Hikers tend to have a lot in common — a love for the outdoors, a respect for nature, and an ease that comes from going without some everyday luxuries for a few nights. There are other traits, let’s say more interesting traits, that are sure-fire signs you or someone you know is a hardcore hiker.
- You keep a backpack in your trunk filled with a tent, sleeping bag, cooking tools, water bottle, change of clothes, and headlamp just in case.
- You can neatly and efficiently pack gear into a pack in less than ten minutes.
- Cashiers give you looks when you purchase $100 worth of Ziplocs, trash bags, and travel-size products.
- Your wardrobe consists of moisture-wicking trek shorts/pants, dry fit shirts, and merino wool socks.
- Many of your shirts have worn, or thin spots where your daypack rubs your side.
- Bandanas, scarves, and towels are one and the same in your eyes.
- You’re on a first-name basis with the employees at your local outdoor retailer.
- You can sleep comfortably anywhere other than in your own bed.
- Your knowledge of a given region consists of the best trails or nearby mountains to climb.
- Your Bucket List is filled with places without cell phone reception.
- You’d rather spend $300 on a tent than $50 on a hotel room.
- You prefer the smell of campfire on your clothes to perfume or cologne.
- Your thoughts when you pass a tree are “Toilet,” or “A bear bag would work on that.”
- You know the calorie count in a variety of foods off the top of your head.
- You think of objects only in terms of weight and cubic inches.
- You think wearing one pair of underwear for a week is normal.
- When you move to a new city, you have no clue where the post office is, but know where the nearest trails are.
- Any white T-shirt you own is now some shade of brown.
- You have multiple Nalgene water bottles in your home, in your car, or at work.
- When you get engaged, you register for gifts at REI.
- Your budget includes trail food, park memberships, and hiking gear, but not things like basic cable or “normal” groceries.
