“There’s no need to rush anywhere,” said the Hiker, who was by this point holding court in the conversation. “All you need to do is keep walking. Don’t run — you’ll get discouraged. Just walk. Bring enough water, and have some food ready to refresh yourself if you can. A couple of peanut butter sandwiches will go a long way at the end of the trail. That’s really all there is to hiking.”

“All there is to hiking? That’s great if we were hiking for fun, but we’ve got a purpose,” I protested. “We need to get to this spot on the map.”

The Hiker took the map and studied it, running a few fingers through his enormous white beard. He took his glasses off and breathed on them, then wiped the fog clean with the hem of his shirt.

“I’m not sure why you need to get to that spot on the map in particular,” he said, “Seems to me you just want to get Somewhere. And the best way to get Somewhere isn’t to go all-in on something you don’t understand.

It’s not so important to me that I start with a clear purpose. Sometimes I’ll go to follow a trail on my map and there’s no payoff— no views; a lot of mud; a barely-there path that might be no trail at all.

But the experience is still fine. And don’t get me wrong — I’m not saying the experience is miserable. It’s just that the miserable parts, to me, are painful blips that I laugh at and move past. I can slip in that mud and fall, I can snag my jacket on the brambles, I can see nothing noteworthy, and still have a hell of a time. I’d say you fellas should do the same.”

“So you’re saying we should just go anywhere, at complete random?” asked Romulus skeptically.

“Not absolutely random,” said the Hiker. “Seems to me you already have a path in mind. It also seems to me like that path isn’t totally clear. Maybe winds around a lot? Can’t tell if it’s a creekbed or even just an animal’s favorite place to shit.?”

We nodded.

“Also seems to me that path has some brambles on it?”

We nodded again.

“Well, that’s fine. And as for your buddy who decided to bypass the trail, that’s fine too. Doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you, or with him. You could turn back and pursue those views. That would be fine too. I’ve seen ‘em — beautiful views when the sun sets over the Blue Boulders. The Ocean Mesa is a hell of a spot.

But anyway, here’s what I believe, and I suspect you boys believe it too: the spirit of adventure is found in making the mishaps and moving on from them. Go on and fall in the mud. You’ll get annoyed, or discouraged, but you can have an adventure if you pick yourself up and keep walking. Your clothes’ll wash clean. And then another mile down the trail, you might snag your arm on the brambles and bleed, but you can band-aid it up and keep going. It’ll be healed and forgotten in a few days.

If you want to suffer, you can stay on the trail for days and sit in the mud while you poke at a bramble scratch or get sad about your dirty clothes. But that’s not how I like to hike.

Oh, and hiking in a group is a great idea, too. I see you’ve already got that one down. You need some people to whom you can point out the interesting stuff, and to debate over navigation. The spirit of adventure is very much like fire, in that it can be passed from candle to candle, and if one candle happens to go out, you just light it back up using the other one.

Of course, you can hike alone, too, like I am now. But for the tough hikes, the off-road ones, you really have to bring other folks along. Otherwise it can be dangerous.

The Hiker took a large swig from his water bottle.

Even if the path isn’t well-traveled, you can bet your bottom dollar there’s been others walking it before you. Those are your brothers and sisters: the ones who’ve fallen in the mud too, who’ve slipped in their clothes, and gotten rained on, who found nothing at the end of the trail. Sometimes I go on and give my brothers and sisters a mental hug.”

The Hiker went silent for a few moments. I couldn’t tell whether he was taking his own advice and giving his ‘siblings’ a ‘mental hug’, or whether he’d found himself preoccupied by another thought.

“Now, I know I’m repeating myself, but I think this bears repeating. As long as you get that feeling that walking’s a good thing to do, then just keep walking. You’re already out here on this path — you’ve already started. When you fall, pick yourself up and put the muddy clothes out of your mind. And most of all, be patient, because it can take a while to pick yourself up sometimes.”

We could hear voices coming into focus from the path behind us. As they grew closer, the Hiker clammed up.

“I should get going,” he mumbled quickly, and pushed through some bushes at the side of the path, making his way into the underbrush.

He was already gone when the two voices appeared in their strangely archaic garb: a talking cat, wearing a small saddle, and a child in full knight’s armor, except for his hiking boots on the bottom.