Trusting our knowing

On hiking, mansplaining, and becoming ourselves

Even when it’s fifty-five degrees in the morning, I can work up a sweat hiking. Especially if I’ve just climbed up a very steep section gaining at least 300 feet of altitude in a very short stretch of trail. I’d just emerged from climbing up the side of a gulf and through the Great Stone Door in Middle Tennessee when I saw a couple, probably in their sixties, approaching me. The man turned to the woman and said, “See dear, I told you you had nothing to worry about with that pack. It’s not nearly as big as hers.” 

That smile and the fake sweet tone, plus the woman’s response about, “Trying to get back into shape” spoke volumes. Sure, I’m red in the face and sweating, but that’s just me going uphill. I wasn’t even that out of breath thanks to all the work I’d been doing. 

“Oh we were backpacking yesterday,” I replied, keeping my tone friendly, “I just pulled all the sleeping stuff out to day hike today. But I always hike with the ten essentials,” at this point I directed my gaze to the wo…