Growing up my Father was an accomplished cyclist. Later in life, when I began to become interested in cycling myself, I asked him “Without taking short-cuts, what is the most efficient way to improve as a cyclist?” He simply replied, “Ride the Hills”. By this he meant that by focusing my attention on the hardest aspects of riding – going up and down hills – my muscles and skills would improve and I would develop a way of thinking that meets challenges head-on. This, to me, is what Barefoot Hiking represents.

It has admittedly been quite some time since my last barefoot hike – 2 or 3 years at least. During that time my well-earned calluses have turned to soft-skin, the kind that enjoys carpets and slipping into a comfortable Berkinstock. But no more! This year is the year I welcome barefoot hiking back into my life. It’s been long enough that I’ve ignorantly forgotten the pain of those first few hikes, the frustration of cutting or breaking your foot for the umpteenth time, or the lovely feeling of incredible hot sandpaper-esq pavement in summer. Perfect.

I decided to start with something “easy” – a warm-up for the upcoming year. Just behind my home in Wellington, New Zealand there’s a small mountain bike track that leads up the hill to an overlook. It’s only about 2km there-and-back so I felt it was the perfect training course to harden my feet for the trails to come.

The trail isn’t too terrible but wasn’t great for first-day-back barefooting; mostly sharp rocks and packed dirt that was ideal for mountain bikes but not so ideal for fresh-feet. My pace was relatively slow as I wanted to ensure I took this first hike somewhat easy and to avoid injury that may prevent me from doing future hikes anytime soon. It was a lovely day for a hike and the trail was basically empty, so ‘leisurely stroll’ was the motto of the day. Upon reaching the top, I took some time to enjoy the soft-grass of the overlook, snap some charming pictures, and have a nice sit to take in the lovely weather.

It’s at this point in our story I should mention that I neglected to bring a pair of shoes with me in case I might need them. And by neglected, I mean I was adamantly against bringing a pair of shoes because “It’ll be fine”, and “I don’t want to be tempted!” What a fool I was.

The way down was arduous. My feet now tender and sore from the hike up would learn a new meaning of pain on the way down. I could feel every single rock and stone, expertly placed by some diabolical nature-spirit right under where I needed to land my feet. Each section of the journey turned into a game of “how can I make it to that next patch of grass near the side of the trail”. I could at this point accurately tell you each section of the trail that had long been dry from the sun and those that are wet from recent rain, I could tell you which had the most activity from hikers or mountain bikers based on how the rocks had been scattered – heck, I could even tell you how recently the last biker made their way up or down based on recent tracks. I could tell you all this because I could feel the trail – intimately. For all the pain and suffering those rocks caused me, I gained a new appreciation for the trail, the land, and myself.

When I finally “made it out”, I had such a feeling of accomplishment. I endured through the hardships, I pressed on when my mind told me to quit, and I did something difficult. It felt good. I respected the trail and the trail respected me. It will probably be a few days till my next hike, but it was good to meet the challenge head-on, one that I had no choice but to overcome, and I feel like a stronger person because of it.

And that, to me, is what Barefoot Hiking is all about.

Until next time, safe travels out there.