Hiking Poles

 Judy. Ted has been hiking much longer than I have, but some years ago—maybe thirty years?—he got me interested enough to give it a try, and now I’m really hooked. Several years ago we joined a hiking group at our church and hiked monthly, mostly on the Appalachian Trail. Our leader Chuck was a tough taskmaster, so early on I began using a wooden hiking stick our son Stefan had carved at Boy Scout Camp, complete with plastic beads dangling. I added bells to scare the bears away. Ted had a stick as well; I think Stefan gave him that one as well. We found them helpful, especially when pulling ourselves uphill.

Then one year we decided we’d walk the Portuguese Camino Santiago de Compostela from Tui, Spain, to Compostela. That Christmas Stefan gave us both hiking poles—the kind that collapse so you can adjust the height and also fit them into your baggage.

We smiled at each other and shook our heads, hoping Stef hadn’t spent much money on something we probably wouldn’t use at all. (Sorry, Stef, but it’s true.) Shortly after Christmas we did an overnight hike from Amicalola Falls five miles up to the Len Foote Hike Inn, one of those ecological lodges located in the Appalachian Mountains not far from Atlanta. We decided we might as well use the poles, as well as the new raincoats we’d bought for the Camino.

I don’t think it took us two miles of uphill climbing to fall in love with those poles. Because that’s the kind of guy Ted is, he researched how to use them, and gave me clear instructions on the best use of hiking poles when on level ground, going uphill, or going downhill.

What they’ve done for me is take the pressure off my legs and hips and distributed my weight throughout my body. Suddenly my arms were getting a workout as well, and the pain in my knees subsided. Pushing off by putting them behind me as I go uphill and, even better, placing them in front of me as I come downhill has made the walking so much easier, even if I do look like an ack-ack from Star Wars.

They give me stability as I walk, and something to lean on when we stop to rest. We use the tips of the poles to look under leaves on the ground or beneath plants to study flowers. It’s an easy way to point out something at a distance, and when I panicked while walking a narrow trail by a sheer cliff, I clung to the rope with one hand and put the handle of a pole near my eye to hide the dropoff in my peripheral vision.

Not planning to do much hiking, we didn’t take them with us on our last six-month jaunt. In Bariloche, Argentina, we found ourselves sorry we’d made that decision as we hiked in northern Patagonia, and jealously watched a friend use his as we weekly walked the six miles from our apartment to the top of San Cristobal Mountain. The decision to bring them with us on this trip was a no-brainer (especially since we’re driving).

Ted has collected stickers from important hikes that he’s put on his black poles: a yellow arrow from the Camino, the tree symbol of the Appalachian Trail, and, now, a GNP sticker from Glacier National Park. It reminds us both of good times outdoors and that we can still do pretty tough hikes. My blue poles remind me of that every time I finish a hike with slightly sore arms but pain-free knees.

Thank you, Stefan.

Ted and his hiking poles