“the logic of self-transcendence is based on humility, and respect for the mystery we did not create”
How a Spontaneous Hike Changed My Life: The Start of My Obsession with the Mountains
One random day, my husband and I made an impromptu decision to drive up to Garibaldi Provincial Park, just west of North Vancouver in the Squamish Valley. As busy professionals and avid runners, we rarely took the time to visit lakes or explore nature outside of our structured training routines. But that day, we wanted a change—we wanted movement, but without the pressure of pacing or mileage goals. Little did I know, that simple decision would spark an obsession that would redefine my life.
It started with one hike. A long one.
A 30km day hike—sometimes making it to the destination, sometimes not—became my new form of meditation. The challenge of the trails kept pulling me back. I now realize this wasn’t just a passing phase. This was my calling. Garibaldi Provincial Park was my first, and it will probably hold my heart forever.
I had never been to Squamish, BC, before that day. Hard to believe, right? My entire life, I had lived so close to these mountains but had never ventured into them. Even more shocking—I had never been to a provincial park. My world was tracks, roads, and racecourses. But at that point in my life, I was mentally and physically burned out. Injuries had stacked up, my passion for structured distance running had dwindled, and I felt uninspired. I needed something that would keep me sane, grounded, and fulfilled.
The solution? Hiking up mountains.
It seemed absolutely delirious to me that people would willingly trek for full marathon distances, climbing thousands of meters, multiple times a week. That kind of endurance and resilience was fascinating—and I wanted to know what it felt like. That first hike to Garibaldi Lake, a 20km out-and-back route, was a disaster in terms of preparation. I was in running shoes, carrying only a small water bottle and wearing lightweight gear that wasn’t suited for the mountains. I had no idea what I was doing.
But I made it.
And the moment I saw that vivid turquoise lake, surrounded by glaciers and rugged peaks, I knew I had found something I never knew I was missing.
At first, it was just about completing the challenge—getting to the lake, summiting a peak, finishing the distance. But over time, the hikes got longer, the elevation got higher, and the adventure became more intense. Walking double-marathon mileage in a day or marathon distances every other day became my new normal. What once seemed unfathomable was now just another day out on the trail.
But the real addiction wasn’t the physical challenge—it was the view.
I wouldn’t call myself a peak bagger. I’m not obsessed with counting summits or checking off a list. But I am a view monger. I chase that panoramic, soul-awakening moment of sitting on a rocky ledge at 2,000m+, looking out over the endless horizon, and feeling completely alive. That moment when everything makes sense, the worries fade, and all that exists is the sky, the wind, and the vastness of the world below.
There’s something about that connection with the mountains—it’s primal, it’s spiritual, it’s addictive.
And that’s how it all started.
I didn’t set out to become a long-distance hiker. I didn’t plan on chasing altitude, epic views, and brutal ascents. But here I am, forever drawn to the mountains, always looking for the next peak, the next adventure, and the next moment that reminds me exactly why I started.
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