An Ode to My Walking Stick (& an Apology to Pole-Loving Hikers)

Is Ruby finally embracing nerdy hiker chic? Or is there more to hiking poles than flexing your carbon-fibre on other trekkers?

I used to delight in judging he who strolled past me on a hike, donning his branded shirt and matching branded pants, his clean hiking boots and pack, his two glistening silver poles.  

I’d walk past and smile my customary smile, internally elated at the fact that he looked like a cut-and-paste from an adventure brand catalogue. ‘He’s probably not a real hiker’, I’d think. ‘All the gear and no idea. Ha!’

My favourite was definitely the poles. Here I am, coasting along the Otford to Bundeena Track and this guy’s got poles. Poles. What a loser.

I walked the Jagungal Loop Track a few years back, alongside WAE Editor Amy and a few other friends. Amy had been lent a hiking pole for the endeavour from a mutual friend of ours. The rest of us couldn’t help but chuckle. ‘A hiking pole, really?’

By the end of the 50km, we were knackered, hauling our bodies and packs up Kosciusko National Park’s relentless terrain in 40ºC heat. The blowflies were lapping up the pools of sweat in our collarbones and taking chunks out of our exposed legs. Amy offered me her hiking pole, and with reluctance, I took it. If it’d alleviate my exhaustion in any way, my pride would happily suffer.

Then I walked the Overland Track in Tasmania (in the off-season), alongside my friend Rhianna from Amble. She brought two poles with her, and I laughed and went without. We started from Lake St Clair, adding the extra 12km around the lake, skipping the ferry. By the end of the first day, I’d found a stick and became so attached that I’d backtrack if I left it by the side of a boulder after a snack break.

I completed the entire 80km with that stick, and I’ve gotta say folks, I’ve been well and truly converted. I fell in love with its misshapen body and the areas I’d peeled away on my lunch breaks. I learnt to appreciate every fall it caught and every exhausted lean it allowed after a steep incline. I whispered a prayer of thanks when I dug it into knee-deep snow and found an uneven surface before my hiking boots did.

‘See!’ Rhianna tells me.

‘See!’ says every other pole-loving hiker out there.

Okay, okay. I get the fuss. I’m sorry. You were right.

I decided to Google why exactly people (who seem perfectly fit and capable) use hiking poles. This is mostly so if I do invest, when I’m met with laughter from friends (and an eyebrow raise from other hikers), I can lay out the facts.

This is probably no surprise to anyone but me, but it turns out poles do amazing things for your joints.

When you’ve got a 20kg backpack, this is a welcome benefit.

Hiking poles also help with balance (which I learnt all too well while walking through the rivers in Tasmania). They protect your knees when going downhill and improve your power and endurance when going up. According to the internet (the most reliable of sources!), you actually burn more calories because you’re giving yourself an upper body workout as well as a workout on your legs. 

I haven’t yet invested in a set of hiking poles, but the same rules apply when using a stick. You want your poles/sticks to be long enough to allow your arm to be at a right angle, with your forearm parallel to the ground. It’s important that your pole/stick fits you as well as your backpack does. If you haven’t been fitted for a hiking backpack, you should do that too. 

So, readers, this is my public declaration of my newfound love of hiking poles. Fellow pole-using hikers, please take this as a formal apology for my arrogant snickers and judgmental eyebrow-raising. I am reformed. My life as a hiker has been transformed. Thank you.