Artfully Aging #2
Solo wilderness hiking is part of my plan to artfully build courage and regain self-confidence while aging
Currently, I’m at 7,500 feet and slightly out of breath. I have a mild headache. Joint pain has lessened, sleep is sound, sight and hearing are acutely sharp, and I’ve lost seven pounds in less than a week.
I’m staying in a friend’s cabin tucked inside the Uinta Mountains of Northern Utah to acclimate to the elevation before starting wilderness hiking. Aspen trees, deer, bears, bobcats, cougars, and the threat of wildfire reign.
The nearest town with a grocery store is 10 miles away. The closest library and gym with a swimming pool are 14.7 miles away. Phone and high-speed internet are spotty unless you have T-Mobile, and that’s because it was what one of the billionaire seasonal residents needed, so he had a tower put in.
The cost of living is 69% higher here than the US average.
It is extremely remote, the complete opposite of what I’ve been yearning for, a metropolitan city where everything is within walking distance and convenient. Here, the silence is deafening, broken only by the chattering of song birds, the whisper of aspen leaves rustling, and the occasional fluttering of bat wings in the inky blackness of night.
Access to the higher elevations is blocked off by gates that require keys or pass codes and electric fences. It is a place the wealthy have cordoned off from the little people.
Summit County, Utah isn’t a place we can move to permanently, but while I’m out and about scouting potential hubs for us to relocate, it offers me a place to dream and inspires me on where to go next. And, of course, while I’m here, it’s only natural that I return to my first love, second only to my love for my husband: mountain hiking and climbing.
It was time to take my first solo hike in the wilderness since 2019
The last hike I took was in that June when I camped (for the first time) in snow above the tree line, and summited Mount Rose between Lake Tahoe and Reno, Nevada.
I’ve been living in the flatlands since then. There’s been no reason to think about wilderness hiking until now, and I was excited to get started on the trail.
Solo wilderness hiking is part of my plan to artfully build courage and regain self-confidence while aging - which I shared about in last week’s article.
I put on wool socks, hiking boots, slathered on sunscreen, grabbed a sun hat, loaded my backpack with five bottles of water, tossed in my phone for any influencer-worthy moments that might go viral, and headed off to the trailhead.
Let it be known that part of the challenge of wilderness hiking is simply finding the trailhead. If you're unfamiliar with the area, this can lead to difficulties. It took me over 45 minutes of searching, reading a map, and finally stopping to ask someone for directions before I found it. The trailhead was seven miles by car from the cabin, with a few lefts and rights up a dirt road, and clearly in view once I found it.
I wasn’t off to the best start.
I hiked for 20 minutes before needing to stop and catch my breath—and I hadn’t gotten far. What began as a smooth trail quickly became more challenging, with a river to cross a couple times and a steep incline on extremely rocky terrain, not unlike hiking on scree above the tree line. I paused to take a few photos and admire the surroundings, noting how desolate it was.
Then I lost the trail completely.
I walked for another 12 minutes and started to panic.
Preparation is key
What I did wrong:
I didn’t research the terrain first. I assumed the path was mostly dirt and well-marked. I also assumed that, since the parking lot had at least ten cars, the trail would be busy, so I wouldn’t be completely alone. But there was no cell service, and I’d left the paper map in the car.
Not knowing my limits on the first hike. Even though I’d been acclimating for a week, it still wasn’t enough to start hiking with a mission in mind—reaching the summit and returning before dark, especially since I started mid-afternoon—without accounting for errors like losing the trail.
I didn’t bring the essentials. I never used trekking poles in the past, but on this uneven ground, they would have come in handy when I slipped on the scree and came down hard on my knee to stop the fall while heading back down the steep incline.
And I forgot to bring my bear mace.
Where are the most bears in Utah?
If the state of Utah were divided into four quadrants, the upper right quadrant would contain most of the bear population in Utah. Most of the bears live in the Uintah Mountains.—Summit Daily
Dumb, dumb, dumb!!
I found my way back to the car and spent the rest of the day (and the next) icing my lower back and quads, stretching, and taking care of myself, surprised that my knee didn’t hurt at all.
My first hike was an epic failure—or was it?
I adapted to the physical and mental challenges by deciding not to push through to the summit. Instead, I took the time to strengthen and heal my body after the fall, purchased a set of trekking poles, and prepared for the next hike.
Artfully aging is about adapting to the physical and mental changes that come with time, learning to navigate the variability in our energy and reaction time, and finding creative ways to stay resilient and engaged as our bodies and minds evolve.
How have you changed or adapted to aging, and still kept your mind and body active?
Hi Patti - This is quite the adventure - or challenge - you have chosen for yourself and what an interesting story. You asked "How have you changed or adapted to aging, and still kept your mind and body active?" I think of two things. 1. It's a daily - or hourly choice - take the road of growth or decline. Do, I exercise even though I hate it or decide what excuse I can use not to. Do I order pecan pie with whipped cream for dessert which may not be good for my health and tell myself I'll start doing better tomorrow or pick a small cookie. 2. The 85 year-old me just plain can't do what the 65 year-old could. I have to accept that fact and do what I can. So, no sky-diving but maybe a six mile walk on flat ground. Enjoy and take care.
i love that you are challenging yourself. Sounds like you had a great yet painful adventure! At least you are prepared for next time!!! Def not a failure!