The Mountain Hike - A Rite of Passage
A question I often ask myself on a mountain hike is, "Why am I really doing this?"
"Above all, do not lose your desire to walk. Every day I walk myself into a state of well-being and walk away from every illness. I have walked myself into my best thoughts, and I know of no thought so burdensome that one cannot walk away from it. When one keeps on walking, everything will be alright."
These words are from a letter Søren Kierkegaard wrote to his sister-in-law. They are beautiful words we can acknowledge, but what exactly happens during this walk? Let me start with the walk I know and love best - the mountain hike.
Shoes are tied, the backpack is packed, and in front of you lies a long and strenuous journey up to an alluring mountain peak, a shimmering mountain lake, or a mountain cabin. Is it to enjoy nature, or is the hike itself the goal? Is it the view, the big trout, or the cozy cabin you seek? Could it also be something else? Something difficult to put into words.
A question I often ask myself on a hike is, "Why am I really doing this?" Especially at the start of the hike, this question often arises. The truth is, I don't actually know what is so great about a mountain hike if I really think about it.
In the separation phase, the hiker experiences a detachment from the time pressures of everyday life. It could be from the expectations of work, the obligations of family life, or the electronic gadgets that prevent us from fully disconnecting.
In 1909, the book "Les Rites de Passage" by Arnold van Gennep was published. Translated to "The Rites of Passage" in English. The book is still considered the classic study of rites of passage, often linked to religious rituals. During the rite of passage, a change of status occurs. One is cleansed from one's former self and "reborn" as a new person. All rituals involve a transition from one level to another and have a three-part structure where the individual undergoes three phases: separation, liminality, and incorporation. Hiking can also be divided into these phases.
The separation phase: Just wait, the voice says, just wait, for soon it will get better. Soon the magic will happen.
In the separation phase, the hiker experiences a detachment from the time pressures of everyday life. It could be from the expectations of work, the obligations of family life, or the electronic gadgets that prevent us from fully disconnecting. At the beginning of the hike, one is in a state different from the usual. Yes, even before the hike begins, one must pack and gather equipment, shop, and if with family, that process can make the separation phase even more demanding. So, when we finally hit the trail, muscles feel as heavy, cold, and unwilling as a winter morning with a vibrating alarm clock in a chilled bedroom. How many times have I not had heavy and destructive thoughts in this state? You have steep climbs, difficult rivers to cross, tough snow patches, heavy swampy bogs, and your body resists this toil you have chosen to subject yourself to. Already, you feel the chafing both in your groin and shoulders. You burn and you sweat.
Is this necessary, then? the body asks, trying to reason with you. And you respond with heavy breaths and sweat on your back and forehead, no, it isn't. Maybe we should turn back? But the moment you ask yourself this question, the experienced mentor emerges, the inner voice, which sees further into the future than the present's easily seductive temptations. The voice that has formed from countless hard-earned experiences all the way back to childhood when I trailed behind my dad, wondering what the hell was so fascinating about hiking.
Just wait, the voice says, just wait, for soon it will get better. Soon the magic will happen. When you get over that ridge, a new landscape will open up, maybe a plateau, maybe a peak, but often it's another mountain shelf you have to struggle over to get the view or perspective you strive for.
And suddenly you're walking, and you realize your body is moving all by itself. The muscles from the cold bedroom have had a warm shower and invigorating coffee. Suddenly, even the steepest climb is a game, a sparring partner you conquer, shake hands with, and share a drink with after the fight.
I don't know how or when the moment occurs when you suddenly notice how good and meaningful it is to walk. Even more interesting is to ask what happened before this insight. What was I thinking then?
The Liminal Phase: A boundary state where the hiker falls into a rhythm connected to breathing, steps, and surrounding sounds and is not fully aware of it. One is in a void between two existences. Both mind, body, and surroundings merge. Drawing parallels to Eastern meditation, these are the moments when one transcends.
It is in this span of time that I suspect the secret behind the hike's powerful effect arises. The explanation for why many choose to go hiking again and again. An ambiguous state that is impossible to grasp. This 'neither-nor' phase is a state where one does not possess one's previous status, but has not yet gained the new one. This state is called the liminal phase. A boundary state where the hiker falls into a rhythm connected to breathing, steps, and surrounding sounds and is not fully aware of it. One is in a void between two existences. Both mind, body, and surroundings merge. Drawing parallels to Eastern meditation, these are the moments when one transcends. In other words, where we transcend the usual experience of thoughts without being fully aware of it. It is indeed an elusive and isolated state. Self-reflection and analysis are set aside, and the thoughts just are. And when something is, then it lives in the moment. And this living in the moment, that is you and me. We live in the moment. Nothing before, nothing after, but now. The moment never lasts long. We frequently stumble upon a thought that demands our attention, but only for a moment before the brain's pace shifts down to the leisurely, to the now, to nature, to walking.
From Trolltunga Adventures trail to Trolltunga on the Trolltunga Classic overnight stay: We walk until the thoughts disappear. Walk until the experience is elevated to well-being and enjoyment. Walk until we are back to the starting point, to everyday life.
We let the landscape and nature surround us with all our senses. We feel the mighty mountains rise above us. We walk towards them, climb them, and descend again. Tired and sweaty. We rediscover how small we are in comparison to everything around us. We go up, we go down. We walk on crooked paths and slippery rocks. We walk in spongy bogs, through ravines, and climb up screes with loose stones. If a big stone falls, you know many small ones will follow. Just like thoughts. Simple transferable insights emerge, and the longer you stay in this wild and unpredictable landscape, the closer you get to yourself. Who you are. Who you were as a child before you adapted and let yourself be shaped by the surroundings. We walk until the thoughts disappear. Walk until the experience is elevated to well-being and enjoyment. Walk until we are back to the starting point, to everyday life.
A sure sign that we are in the final phase of the rite of passage — the incorporation. When you return to society with a new status and vigor. The hike's mental rite of passage has cleansed the mind.
The hike often ends with a good meal and a fine bottle of wine. A sure sign that we are in the final phase of the rite of passage — the incorporation. When you return to society with a new status and vigor. The hike's mental rite of passage has cleansed the mind. The longer the hike has lasted, the longer and more liminal phases you have been through, the longer the restlessness will likely stay away.
Until one day, you're sitting on the couch or in the office and notice that the grime of everyday life has begun to cling. The stimulation junkie has hit wall after wall and received repeated overdoses of digital injections. The symptoms are stress that knots in the neck, shoulders, and settles along the spine. You are heading to a place you do not want to be. A place with inner tensions that are as claustrophobic as being inside a transformer box.
Then the inner mentor sneaks forward and whispers that now it's time to head to the mountains again. Out into the open landscape. Walk until the thoughts disappear and you are once again changed by this unconscious now that connects you to existence — a ritual you have become addicted to.
This article was written by one of guides and founders and was published in Harvest Magazine ten years ago. Translated from Norwegian to English by ChatGPT.