Misty views at Point Reyes National Seashore, California
My hikes don’t always turn out quite like I planned. (See my post about Epic Hiking Fails if you don’t believe me.) Sometimes it’s really not that bad. Hiking to Lake Isabelle in the Indian Peaks Wilderness of Colorado many years ago, I wanted to hike up to Pawnee Pass, but the trail to the pass was 100% snowcovered. It just wasn’t happening – the destination of the hike was a failure. I was pretty disappointed, but we enjoyed the beautiful views by the lake, then trekked off-trail to where the outlet cascaded out from under a snowfield. It was fun, it was an adventure, it was spectacular to boot.
It was better than this stream above the Virginia Lakes Trail north of Yosemite National Park, California, but you get the idea
But other times, the hike just plain fails. There’s little you can do to save it; maybe throw up your hands and laugh or sit down and pout, but that’s about it.
Icy Charlotte Pier in Ontario Beach Park, New York
It happens that I’m fairly perfectionistic. If I do it, I want to do it well. Add to that limited time and energy, and failure isn’t my favorite word in the world. In fact, I’ve come to exceptionally dislike that word.
Walking around Lion Rock at Arcadia Beach, Oregon
The worst thing that could happen on a hike is that we failed to complete it by my expectations. Failure created fear and insecurity; I did not want to fail, but I also did not want to get my hiking group into a dangerous situation. I was afraid every hike would end in disaster – either failure, danger, or both.
Hiking Star Dune in Great Sand Dunes National Park, Colorado
Insecurity comes from fear. Fear is birthed in the unknown and from the known. The unknown because we don’t know what will happen, the known because we know what is there and it is a scary proposition.
Fisher Towers, Utah
When we have experienced a failure, we try to learn from it – if only I had done this, or if only that had happened. Learning is vital to life; it does mean less likelihood of failure in the future because we have learned from our mistakes.
Mountain views near Tincup Pass, Colorado
We are called to be wise (Matthew 10:16). Wise people look ahead and see trouble coming (Proverbs 22:3) and get out of the way, or at least take measures to mitigate the coming disaster. The problem is that when we’re out in the wilderness, we can have all the available knowledge at our fingertips, and we still don’t know everything we need to make good decisions.
Bristlecone Pines and Badwater Flats from the Telescope Peak Trail in Death Valley National Park, California
Somehow we need to change our perception of failure. We live in a society that has long told us, “You fail once, you have no more options.” As Christians, we know this isn’t the way it goes: “Though he (the righteous person) fall, he shall not be cast headlong, for the Lord upholds his hand” (Psalm 37:24). There is forgiveness when we sin.
Palm trees in Borrego Palm Canyon, Anza-Borrego Desert State Park, California
Sometimes we need to see failure not as the end, but as the beginning of learning. Without the permission to make mistakes, learning from our mistakes becomes fear because we are afraid that what we will make the same mistake again – fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me.
Sunrise on the Mount Elbert Trail in San Isabel National Forest, Colorado
If we want to live in freedom, we must walk beyond the fear of mistakes and in the reality where we learn from mistakes but are not tied down by them. Our mistakes do not define us. We sometimes must live with the consequences of our mistakes, but we must be willing to forgive ourselves for our failure, to learn, and to give ourselves the freedom to keep going. “Though the righteous fall seven times, they rise again” (Proverbs 24:16).
Stream crossing on the Stough Creek Trail in the Wind Rivers of Wyoming
For me, that means being will to hike without the fear of failure – again.
