Go Wide or Go Home

Redlining.

It means hiking every New Hampshire trail in the Appalachian Mountain Club’s White Mountain Guide.

I have one friend who is attempting to do it.

(Note: It's not me.)

But I started thinking about how cool it would be to redline the planet. To travel the whole of the world, or as much of it as you possibly can.

One of the objectives of redlining is to give heavily trafficked trails a break. Hiking boots pound on the same old 4,000-footer trails again and again— exposing granite and bare soil, tearing up roots. The bark of some trees has been stripped by hand after hand grabbing on to navigate tough rock slopes. Micro spikes leave visible scars on rockface.

Redlining brings hikers to other, less explored and still beautiful parts of our state.

But this concept of redlining is also useful in life.

What does it look like to redline your life?

Think about the trails you have visited again and again. Those same restaurants you go to and have the same meal. The same movies or series you watch again and again. The same old fights you have with your spouse. Those familiar neural pathways that reinforce thought habits you know and love.

What new trails have you yet to explore?

This makes me think of a quote by Diane Ackerman: “I do not want to get to the end of my life and find that I just lived the length of it. I want to have lived the width of it as well.”

What does living the width of a life look like?

I imagine opening corners of the heart that have not seen the light of day. Tasting foods that have never hit your belly. Having coffee with someone you do not know. Reading a book in a genre different from what you normally read. Traveling to places you have never been before. Having a new, conversation you have avoided with that person you love. Even tackling an old fear such as parachuting out of a plane.

They say there are 1,420 miles to hike in New Hampshire depicted in the White Mountain guide. But if you decide you want to redline, you must hike way more than that to accomplish a redlining goal.

Why?

Because there are dead end trails. There are out and back trails. Difficult trails that will take you a roundabout way. There are trails you can reach only through other trails.

Redlining is not necessarily efficient.

It’s about living the width of life, not the length of it.

I met a hiker the other day who has done the entire Appalachian Trail, the Long Trail, and the Pacific Crest Trail. When I asked him what he took from all of that, he said, “I hiked with my full pack every step of the way. If a shortcut appeared, I always circled back. If someone offered to take my pack, I insisted on carrying it.”

I pointed out that there must be some value he holds that made this important to him. There was something about experiencing every painful, blissful moment that brought him joy. This is what brought him a sense of accomplishment. Of completion.

The man is in his 70s, still hiking, and you can tell he has lived the width of his life.

What does that look like for you?

And as you consider that, remember this: Why does the dog stick his head out the window, even though he gets bugs in his eyes? Because the ride is so worth it.