I spent 4 months in the wilderness, and this is what I learned.

Quick disclaimer: my wilderness experience was not a recreation of a Survivorman episode. It was not a lay bushcraft experiment in which I built a shelter from tree boughs using a pocket knife, nor did I set small animal snares or harvest grubs from fallen logs to survive. 

Having just retired from 22+ years active duty Army service, I hiked 1280 miles of the 2198.4 mile Appalachian Trail (AT), which runs between Baxter State Park, Maine and Amicalola Falls State Park, GA. The goal of the hike was to reclaim potential authenticity and autonomy sacrificed in the course of service to my country. 

In belonging to a time honored professional organization such as the Army, one potentially forfeits aspects of his/her identity to adopt the organization’s values. Having stripped away the uniform I wore since I was 18 years old and having been removed from the Army hierarchy and leadership responsibilities, I wanted to know who I was beyond my identity as a Soldier. What better place to search for oneself than the Appalachian Trail? 

This article is not intended to immerse the reader in the experiences, hardships, and lifestyle of a national scenic trail ‘thru hike’. Rather, I have distilled many lessons learned on the trail down to 3 which I feel could be relevant to others in their professional and personal lives. Lastly, although I set out to complete the entire 2198.4 mile trail in one adventure, my endeavor was cut short by a preexisting injury which worsened as the miles went on. Now on to the lessons.

1. Hike your own hike

“Hike your own hike” is hiker slang for “you do you”. A translation might be to follow your own convictions or to be authentic. On the trail this is an important credo because there are so many ways to conduct a long distance hike, and many accomplish the feat differently. Any given hiker will likely have strong convictions on what to bring, how far to go each day, what types of food to eat, and what luxury items he/she prefers. 

Most hikers exclusively use digital maps, apps, or navigation software. I used those as well, but I also retained a good old fashioned paper map with grids. Old habits die hard. During a workshop at an AT hostel, an experienced hiker who ran the workshop strongly advised me to get rid of the ‘heavy’ map book. I did not - mainly because my experience over the last few decades taught me to always have an analog backup. It turned out I was right.

During the first week of my hike, central Maine experienced historic rainfall and flooding which resulted in official closure of water crossings. Fording streams at such high levels was very dangerous. Authorities rerouted portions of the trail near the southern end of the remote 100-mile wilderness around the flooded areas. So instead of hiking the AT directly into the remote town of Monson, ME, I was rerouted onto backroads several miles away. My spare battery and phone were both dead, rendering my navigation apps worthless.  My ‘heavy’ paper map suddenly became invaluable. Had I not kept it, I would have only been able to guess how far to go down any given road and which turns to take to get me into town. This is only a small example of how I ‘hiked my own hike’. 

Backpackers will oftentimes have strong opinions on how much your pack should weigh. One northbound hiker I met in Gorham, NH told me he had sent home his down sleeping bag and down jacket to reduce his packweight. I was aghast at his decision as he was preparing to enter White Mountain National Forest, where I had just left. Lower temperatures and high winds in “the Whites” can be unforgiving even in the summer. Nevertheless, I gave him a fist bump and said “good luck, bro”. 

Before his classic fight with the Philistine giant Goliath, the young shepherd, David, tried wearing Saul’s armor and sword before stepping into the ring. After walking around in the armor, David said, “‘I cannot go in these,’ he said to Saul, ‘because I am not used to them.’ So he took them off.” (1 Samuel 17:39). Furthermore, when he selected his rock-sling as a weapon, Goliath mocked his non-traditional choice. I think we all know how that turned out.

The takeaway is that when experienced or knowledgeable friends, family or co-workers make helpful suggestions, we should weigh the advice against our own experience, skills and abilities and only then decide whether or not to adopt a new method or tool.

As I became a more experienced backpacker over the miles, I adapted my inventory, routine, and hiking techniques based on carefully considered suggestions along the way. I even ditched the hard copy map several hundred miles in, but it was only after I had gained enough experience to become confident in making the change. 

2. Nature is uniquely equipped to quiet the mind

There is something sacred about being alone in the wilderness. It provides a natural quiet not reproducible in civilization. Even forest sounds such as wind blowing through trees or birds singing have the ability to ground the human traveler. Immersing oneself in Nature allows one the opportunity to observe the stillness of the trees, mountains, waters, grasses, wildflowers, and animals. In our busy societal roles, it is easier for us to classify ourselves as human doings rather than human beings. Functionally this is true. Creation, however, seems to have perfected the art of being just as it is. We are always navigating some sort of turbulence (sometimes self induced) compared to forest life, which seems to just go with the flow. 

Trees are not self conscious about how their bark looks or how straight their trunks are. Animals instinctually hunt and gather without regard to the stress of a looming organizational deadline. They toil for their nourishment and survival rather than to outcompete another for promotion. The sun, wind and rain distribute their resources indiscriminately on the land. Even the apparent chaos of violent storms brings with it water to quench the thirst of dry land and replenish lakes and streams. 

Contrast this with human nature. We are constantly preoccupied by news headlines, social media feeds, political drama, or when the next episode of Selling Sunset is coming out. Or perhaps we’re home relaxing after work and cannot jettison the stress of a big project that waits for us the next day. I’m not advocating for ignorance of current events, to delete social media from our phones or to neglect the importance of a hard day’s work. The point is that when backpacking in the wilderness and walking for the majority of the day, it’s easier to abstain from social media reels, binge watching shows or thinking about work (especially if you’re recently retired). The mind is free and available to observe and contemplate the stillness and presence of the wild. 

Besides, science says it’s good for you! A peer reviewed study in 2019 showed that simply walking in a forest or greenspace, as opposed to an urban path, “yielded the largest and most consistent improvements in psychological state” (Koselka, E. P. D., et al., (2019). Walking green: Developing an evidence base for nature prescriptions. International Journal of Environmental Research and Public Health, 16 (22))

Still, some might argue that trees and plants are not conscious, and therefore we shouldn’t compare ourselves to them. Or because animals are not metacognitive (aware of one’s own thoughts), they are not capable of self evaluation as humans are. However, this does not mean we cannot learn from nature. After all, when instructing his followers and crowds not to worry in his famous Sermon on the Mount, Jesus directed their attention to none other than birds and flowers to make his point. 

3. Personal decision making is riskier than organizational problem solving 

In Army problem solving methodology, a single person (commander) retains responsibility for decisions, but he/she has the advantage of leveraging a staff or team to develop a broader understanding of the problem through a diverse collective lens not afforded to a single person. Similarly, collective course of action development retains the advantage of a multi-perspective approach over one problem solver doing it all him/herself. 

Personal decision making is different in that one person owns sole responsibility for identifying the problem, developing a course of action and executing the decision. This is not to say, however, that someone may not solicit help from friends or mentors to inform the process. 

In 2017 an MRI revealed I had a labral tear in my right hip. While high impact exercises such as running and jumping aggravated the injury, I was able to maintain cardiovascular fitness through other means. Concerned about the impact the tear would have on my upcoming hike in the summer of 2023, I worked closely with physical therapists in the preceding months to strengthen muscles surrounding my hip joint. 

For the most part it worked. I was able to carry a 35-55 pound pack over very rugged terrain and varying ascents and descents for 1280 miles. I was careful to stretch each morning and evening, before and after my hike. I also carried an ultralight foam roller or cork ball to do ‘backwoods’ myofascial release.

However, around the 1100 mile mark I noticed that preventive exercises and ibuprofen were becoming less effective. The pain increase was gradual, so I was still able to complete daily mileage and just bear with the pain. As it worsened however, I considered unnecessary damage I might be causing by “soldiering on”, so I took an entire day to assess the pros, cons, risks, and benefits of continuing or suspending my hike.

I hunkered down in a small town motel just west of Shenandoah National Park and consulted the infallible wisdom of the internet and YouTube (as well as my wife and mother) to answer several questions and help me arrive at a decision whether to ‘stay or go’. I asked myself ten questions but will elaborate on only one of them here.

What are the risks of staying or leaving the trail?

Staying on the AT would likely have meant continued pain at best, and at worst it would have meant an exacerbated injury. Leaving the trail, however, imposed no risks other than subjective ones such as leaving a goal unfulfilled or questioning my character - would this make me a quitter? On this last point, it was important that I remain objective by not allowing ill-suited questions like that to pollute the assessment, but it turned out to be very difficult.

One of the Army’s four Warrior Ethos is “I will never quit”. It’s intended to become a guiding principle of a U.S. Army Soldier. In the context of basic combat training or another difficult Army school, it encourages the Soldier to remain steadfast in completing a task or mission. I did not explicitly lay the Warrior Ethos on the table to help me assess the situation. Rather, it nagged at me from the inside - a result of 20 years suffusing it into my character.

Voluntarily leaving (quitting) a difficult school such as U.S. Army Ranger school infringes the ethos “I will never quit”. As a matter of fact, when a Ranger student voluntarily quits (called a lack of motivation drop) the school drafts an official memorandum scrutinizing future reapplications. This obviously does not address valid reasons for leaving the school such as a family emergency. It’s more about the intentions of the student.  

In 2005, I had persevered through Ranger school despite having sustained a serious injury in the second phase. Staff at the hospital in Dahlonega, GA and an Army doctor at Camp Merrill felt I could continue given an orthopedic brace, so I was able to finish. Their insights helped me decide to fight on to the Ranger objective and complete the mission. 

18 years later in that motel room outside Shenandoah National Park, I had trouble not seeing my problem through the lens of an injured Ranger school student because the situations shared similarities. This demonstrates the risk of planning in a vacuum without diverse perspectives. Had I included the Camp Merrill doctor in my imaginary problem solving committee, for example, he might have actually advised against continuing my hike. 

I had to concentrate hard to see the problem as a recently retired Army officer on a backpacking trip. After all, that’s who I was. I was a veteran who had already endured and completed decades of difficult schools, combat deployments, and training exercises. I no longer had a superior commander to whom I would report if I came home early - only a loving wife, family, and friends who would care for me and congratulate me on making it as far as I did. 

A Candid Conclusion

I’m sharing these lessons learned, especially the last one, because although we’re human, we sometimes strive for perfection and take it hard when we don’t come through. Failure of a goal is all the more bitter when we have given everything we have to accomplish it and still fall short. It can engender a real sense of isolation for some of us. Deciding to come off the trail was difficult, but accepting the decision itself was much harder. 

The ultimate takeaway here is not that we sometimes fail and it’s unpleasant. It is to dare to live life to its fullest in spite of the risk of failure! Over the course of a 1280 mile journey, I made friends with some wonderful people I would otherwise never have known and saw beautiful parts of the country. I persevered through difficult terrain, pain and horrible weather, and I grew in resiliency. I also learned a great deal about myself out there which would not have been the case had I not taken the chance. Maybe the journey was a success after all.