IS IT POSSIBLE TO BECOME AN OUTDOORSY PERSON? I BACKPACKED FOR A WEEKEND TO FIND OUT.

On a brisk October morning, with 20 pounds of gear on my back, I trekked up a steep, rocky trail. With each step, I felt my throat constrict and my lungs heave.

As a city person, my idea of an invigorating activity is walking up a broken escalator. Maybe strolling to the library. Now, I was spending my weekend hiking 10 miles in two days along the Appalachian Trail’s Kittatinny Ridge in New Jersey. Even more remarkable? I appeared to be enjoying myself.

This was an experiment. Growing up, my family’s annual “hikes” in Illinois often left me weeping with exhaustion after only 2 miles. Decades later, I wondered, at the ripe age of 26, could I learn to love the outdoors? I decided to start in the deep end with this backpacking expedition.

Online searches had led me to the Appalachian Mountain Club (AMC), an outdoors organization founded in 1876, which offers free beginner backpacking trips. I knew I’d need help. I’d found my mentors.

During our first phone call, Greg Fogarty, one of the group leaders, vetted my fitness. Asthma? Afraid so. Never camped? Check. “You’ll be the newbiest of newbies,” he said.

Fitness, Fogarty emphasized, mattered more than cramming YouTube tutorials on wilderness skills. “If you have the right gear, we can teach you how to use it.” He recommended some beginner-level equipment (see “Gear Up” below) and prescribed 4 to 5 miles of walking a day. In the weeks leading up to my trip, I diligently walked 4 miles from Midtown to Chinatown after work—sometimes.

All too soon, I found myself at the trailhead with my group near the Pennsylvania-New Jersey border. Setting off, I met Maria Ottinger, a 49-year-old English teacher from Philadelphia. She hadn’t backpacked since her 20s, she explained, but loved the outdoors and rowed on a dragon-boat team made up of breast-cancer survivors. My insecurities intensified.

Together we navigated a stretch of felsenmeer (“sea of rock” in German), a common geological feature in the Delaware Water Gap. An hour in, gasping for breath, I fell behind the group. Fogarty slowed down to join me.

“Look at the sky, the trees!” he implored me.

Wheezing, I stopped to crane my neck. Nature chose that moment to show off. The wind whistled, rustling the yellow canopy overhead. Continuing on, I made a point to stop and look around every few minutes.

After 3 hours, we reached our campsite, a grassy expanse so high up that the Delaware River looked like a fine blue thread below. Fogarty offered tent pointers. One of his chipper tips: Avoid setting up under “widowmakers,” the unstable tree branches that could lead to your untimely demise. Snorers were instructed to pick a site far from others.

I ably pitched my own tent, having studied up beforehand, a confidence booster after a demoralizing morning.

Sunfish Pond, formed by glacial retreat after the last ice age, was our only water source. Perched on boulders lining the shore, we filtered water into our bottles.

On the hike back to camp, I repeatedly lost my footing. Each time I slipped, my concerned hiking companion asked if I was OK. After the umpteenth time I fell, I stopped swearing—and she stopped asking.

Back at camp, I started a fire with nothing but flint sticks—another tiny triumph. I ate a dinner of rehydrated Pad Thai in a bag and then joined the others to roast s’mores, watch the stars blink and trade stories.

I had been warned that sleep could be elusive when camping, but I wasn’t prepared for just how hard it would be. My cheap sleeping pad kept deflating, and my sleeping bag did little to keep the 38-degree air out. Around 2 a.m. I teared up in frustration. From that point on, I lay awake with my beanie pulled down to my chin.

Emerging from my tent into the misty morning, I felt my mood shift. Autumn seemed to have kicked in overnight and the leaves glowed. As I walked, I felt myself opening up to my hiking companions, sharing reflections about my life I wouldn’t usually divulge to strangers.

Back at the trailhead where we started, Fogarty asked us what we were grateful for. I piped up about the vulnerable and funny conversations I’d enjoyed with fellow hikers—and the space to reflect. The forest and its temporary denizens, I enthused, had convinced me I was capable of much more than I thought possible.

Lisa Chou, the other group leader, didn’t question my suspiciously transformed attitude or discount my philosophizing as the ramblings of a sleep-deprived city slicker. When walking in nature, she explained, the back and forth motion of your eyes quiets the amygdala, the part of the brain that processes threats and controls fear. In that zone, getting in tune with other emotions can also feel less scary.

So did the experiment work? Memories of that sleepless, freezing night might give me pause before I crawl into a tent again. But that doesn’t mean I’m swearing off the woods completely. I returned to New York smelly and sore, but when I stepped off the bus into the din of Manhattan, I also felt oddly serene.

GEAR UP / A Newbie Trekker’s Starter Kit

“Avoiding cotton socks is critical,” said Chris Varian, an REI Experiences guide, since the material absorbs moisture, leading to blisters and cold, wet feet. Darn Tough Women’s Light Hiker Micro Crew Lightweight Hiking Sock, $24

For an overnight trip, Varian recommends a backpack that’s around 40-50 liters. Gregory Jade 53, $250

According to Varian, 15 and 30-degree [sleeping bags] are great lightweight, very packable three-season choices. REI Co-op Magma 30 Sleeping Bag, $380

For comfortable camping on cold nights, look for a sleeping pad with an R-value of at least 5, said Varian. Nemo Tensor All-Season Ultralight Insulated Sleeping Pad, $200

For our terrain, Fogarty suggested forgoing hiking boots for trail runners, which are like sneakers, but with better traction and a more durable exterior. “They are also lighter on your feet,” he said. Brooks Cascadia 18 Trail-Running Shoes Women’s, $140 at REI

“Sawyer is better than most [other systems] because the filter is light and simple to use,” said Fogarty. Sawyer Squeeze Water Filtration System With Pouches, Straw and Pack Adapter, $41 at Amazon

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2024-10-25T21:32:03Z