Every summer now since 2017, I’ve come out to the western states to hike and appreciate the natural beauty, cooler temps, and lack of humidity. The Mid-Atlantic from mid-May through the end of October is atrocious weather-wise, and I’m happy for the break from it, though, returning to the east mid-August if often a shock to the body. Why anyone would choose to live there is beyond me. If I weren’t at the mercy of the job market, I would skedaddle asap. But I am, so I stay – and leave when I can, even if only for 5-6 weeks each summer. Over these last several summers, I’ve thought about my motivations for heading west; beyond a bad weather reprieve, which, depending on where I go out west, isn’t always possible – I was up in Northwest Montana for eight days in early July this year and it got to 100 the last five days I was there. Granted, it cooled off at night significantly, and the mornings were good hiking weather, but those afternoon and evening hours were brutal. I was staying in what resembled a tiny house with no AC, and I felt like I was in a tinder box from about 6:30pm to 10pm every night. I also felt quite claustrophobic, because I spent more hours inside than I would normally like to, as there was little shade near my rented abode. It wasn’t my favorite leg of this summer’s travels, and that’s too bad, because it really is a beautiful and remote place that I would’ve loved to explore more. But I digress, as usual…. Why do I like to hike so much? Do I really like to hike, or is it just something to do? Am I just spending a lot of money to travel to places to kill time?

I’m a very restless person, and also a creature of habit. My routine back in the east is predictable: I get up at 7:30am, walk the dog and then feed her, and if it’s a workday, I check and respond to emails for an hour or so, before taking the dog to a local forest to hike for usually 60 minutes, 90 minutes if there’s time and the weather cooperates. After that, lunch, other work-related duties, then dinner, then evening dog walk, then I unwind, reading for a bit and then close it out by staring at the idiot box for a couple hours. The only difference on weekends is that I don’t check work email, and I’ll only do other work if it needs to be done before the next week begins. Mix in a few concerts each month, a few happy hours, and some other random social events, and that’s basically my life. It’s mostly not exciting, but it’s comfortable and works for me. I always feel as if in many ways I’m saving up for the summer, where the routine is not altered too much, aside from my hikes usually lasting 3.5-4 hours instead of 60-90 minutes.

Who invented time, and why do we need to spend it? Can we save it instead? (Retrieved from here and comes courtesy of Spora Weddings.)

Admittedly, some of my summer hikes are far more enjoyable than others. They’re not all going to be winners, even if you really try to plan them out to be that way. Sometimes it’s crowding, sometimes the trails aren’t maintained very well and hard to follow, and sometimes they just don’t measure up to their depiction in trip reports and hiking guides. But many are truly special and awe-inspiring, and I wouldn’t trade those experiences for anything. But I have to wonder if my militant nature of getting up at 6am every day during the summer and forging head on a hike is more procedural than necessary. While I like my routines, I wonder if sometimes I’m forcing them out here. I couldn’t imagine sitting around and doing nothing (anywhere), and certainly not when I’m paying a lot of money for lodging, but I need to fill my time, and hiking is the way I’ve chosen to do so. By the end of this summer, I’ll have hiked more than 200 miles in Colorado and Montana, gaining north of 60,000 feet of elevation.

But this isn’t the only outdoor activity I like to do, and numerous others are plentiful out here, like rock climbing and whitewater kayaking, but because I don’t typically know people in the areas I visit, I can’t really participate in those activities easily or safely. Maybe if I varied my activities, I’d feel less like I’m killing time, I don’t know. I think it would help. But what I’m trying to figure out is if I’m actually killing time, or if it’s just some thought that popped into my head. I truly enjoy hiking with my dog and seeing waterfalls, lakes, wildflowers, creeks, and peaks. Maybe I just need to accept that I’m doing something I enjoy, and if it “kills time” in the process, so what? I mean, those hours are going to get used somehow, and I’ve certainly developed a desirable repertoire out west every summer – my friends often comment on how envious they are of me and my travels…

Keeping in mind that my summer travels aren’t cheap, I’ve thought about how I’d fill my time if I stayed back east instead. Between lodging, gas, and other vacation-related expenses, I’d probably save myself $6-8,000 each summer (if not more when I factor in the smaller extracurriculars that happen before or between). That could go a long way to other more tangible things (like a second house out west for the future), but getting away from not only the heat and humidity, but the routine I appreciate so much the other 10 months of the year, seems almost essential. What if I didn’t have the capacity to do these travels every summer? Whether it be money or demands of a different career, I could be very easily “stuck” in the east every summer, plotting through evermore monotony, sweating my life away. That would be a different kind of restlessness, and a whole other series of attempts to kill time…

I’ve been having discussions about midlife crises with friends and colleagues in the last few months, something I’ve touched on in this column directly and indirectly before. To be clear, I don’t think I’m having one, but I do think they happen to people. However, I have taken note that there are things I would like to do that I never have or return to some things that I haven’t done in ages, but more generally, make better use of my time. The clock is ticking, after all…

So, maybe restlessness is not a bad thing, because it’s just your mind’s way of telling you that you should be more intentional. I must say that when I return from a really enjoyable hike, it’s a feeling of peacefulness and comfort that is really satisfying. It makes me wish every hike was like that, but if they were, then maybe the positive feelings from the really great ones wouldn’t shimmer as much as they do.

And maybe killing time isn’t such a bad thing either. It’s better than time killing you.

Postscript: The day after writing this, my dog and I did the Highland Mary Lakes Loop near Silverton, Colorado. Six lakes, two waterfalls, and a feeling of solitude like no other. I’m definitely not killing time, and I sure wasn’t restless today.

Marco Esquandoles
Father Time