10/01/2025
𝐖𝐡𝐲 𝐈 𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐏𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐈 𝐌𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐇𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬
I hate people I meet on hikes.
Not because they were rude or annoying, but because they were the kind of people I wish I could keep forever. The kind of people who’d hand you their last bottle of water without hesitation or who’d help you scramble over a boulder like you’ve been friends for years. The kind who’d share stories under a sky sprinkled with stars, the laughter echoing through the campsite like music. And then, just like that, they disappear when the hike ends.
It feels unfair, really. You climb together, sweat together, marvel at the same breathtaking views, and even get through moments of exhaustion and struggle together. You bond over the simplicity of life on the trail, stripped of all pretensions. For a brief moment, these strangers feel more like home than the people you see every day. But when you reach the end of the trail, everyone goes their separate ways, back to their own lives.
I’ve met people who became like siblings over just a weekend hike. There was that girl who lent me a dry jacket when I got soaked in the rain, the guy who made the best coffee at 4 a.m. at the summit, and the group that sang terribly off-key songs to keep spirits up during a grueling descent. Every one of them left a little mark on me, and yet, most of us never crossed paths again.
I hate that hikes teach me to appreciate fleeting connections and then force me to let them go. I hate that these people remind me of how beautiful human kindness and camaraderie can be, only for it to fade into a memory.
Maybe that’s why I keep hiking—to meet more of these amazing, temporary people. To share more campfires, more stories, and more of those bittersweet goodbyes that remind me how rich and beautiful life can be, even if just for a little while.
ctto - Newhman
