My friends want me to teach them how to explore, I want them to learn themselves, what should I do?

 

Our Agony Uncle Pat is here for all of your outdoor woes. It’s the advice column you never knew you needed, and this Explorer is in a pickle.

 

‘Dear Pat,

I escape into the folds of nature for my own personal enjoyment and it’s mostly by myself. However, when I get a bit excited and share my adventures with my non-skiing, non-trail running, non-overnight hiking friends, they get all enthusiastic and want me to bring them along on my next adventure. I started my solo adventures by fully educating myself, and with a bit of trial and error, so I’d like them to do the same! My time is precious and I’m mostly a solo adventurer (people…eewww) so how do I find the balance of having enthusiasm to babysit adults in the wilderness and finding my own zen?’ – Han Solo

 

Dear Han,

I write to you from the confines of my bedchamber. I broke my ankle three weeks ago and have been laid up with my leg elevated, entirely dependent on my partner to keep me alive and somewhat invested in the world. I am the furthest thing from independent and in no way comfortable with the arrangement. I share this with you because I feel it might be relevant – however tangentially – to your question; also, sympathy?

Like you, I’ve long been a proponent of solo adventuring; of solo anything, really. As I write, I should be halfway through a 320km hike in Spain on my lonesome, but instead I am here. The claims manager at WorkCover sent a questionnaire to measure my wellbeing and, upon seeing the results, urged me to speak to someone.

Guess what, Han?

You are that someone.

Congratulations!

It sounds like there are two things at play here. One: you want your friends to educate themselves. Two: you feel like the responsibility of ‘babysitting’ adults is not compatible with you getting what you need from your limited time outside. 

I mean, fair enough. As someone who is paid to take people outside, I can empathise with your aversion to babysitting. I can’t say I return from a work program in the same blissed-out state as when I come back from a solo trip to the mountains. That said, I’d encourage you not to think of your friends’ excitement as a fast lane to babysitting duties. The people you love are so taken by the thing you’re obsessed with that they want to experience it too; that’s pretty cool, no?

If a solo trip brings much-needed solitude, sharing someone’s first tentative steps outdoors delivers something entirely different. For me, there’s a real satisfaction in helping others discover how delightful time outside can be. Don’t get me wrong: I’m impressed you had the motivation – the moxie, the chutzpah! – to educate yourself, but I’m not convinced everyone needs to earn their stripes on their own.

For as long as outdoor recreation has existed, we’ve relied on the wisdom of the community to become better outside operators. Very few people are genuinely self-taught. We are standing on the shoulders of giant mistakes. And while trial and error is no doubt important, nothing beats an apprenticeship under a master of the dirtbag trade. To put it in terms you’re familiar with, Han: a true Jedi guides their Padawan (don’t fact check me on this).

Read more: Introducing Our Outdoors Agony Uncle

Why not set aside a weekend and invite your mates to get involved? Pitch it as an introductory expedition, an easy overnight to give them a taste of the outdoors. Provide some guidance, like a packing and shopping list, but put the responsibility on them. Worst case, you have a tedious trip; best case, you set someone on the path that’s been so beneficial to you.

You could even commit to a quarterly ‘open’ adventure. Let your friends know what you’ll be doing and give them a chance to step up. This way, you’re not committing every weekend to other people’s enthusiasm, but you are holding the door open.

Last weekend, I crutched to the pub to meet one of my outdoorsy friends. We’ve shared a couple of adventures over the past two years and despite my deep-rooted commitment to doing things alone, I always enjoy our time together.

We first met in the lead-up to his own solo trip – cycling from Kyrgyzstan to Scotland – and upon his return, I asked if he’d be down to take me bikepacking. I’d always wanted to try but was nervous about the mechanical side of things, so I felt better going with someone more experienced. In other words, I needed babysitting.

Reaching out for an adventure buddy was a genuine first for me – very nerve-wracking, to be honest – and I’m glad he said yes; had he turned around and told me to go educate myself, I probably would’ve cut ties and texted our mutual friend to say: kind of a dick.

In an attempt to delay buying my round, I relayed your question to him. ‘How nice is it that someone cares what you’re doing,’ he said, and I can’t help but agree. People are eww, as you’ve said, but they’re also kind of brilliant. And you can blame it on my state of utter dependence, but I’m currently into Doing Shit For People as a guiding philosophy. This will no doubt reverse once I’m no longer reliant on others.

Listen, Han. Your solo time is sacred and you don’t owe every enthusiastic friend a crash course in camping. We want more people to love the outdoors and understand how to move through it. Could your friends learn this by scrolling or reading or bumbling around on their own? Absolutely. But how lucky are they to know someone like you? And how lucky are you to have friends like them?

 

Got a question you’d love our Agony Uncle to half-answer with a bunch of anecdotes? Shoot it over to editorial@weareexplorers.co with ‘Agony Uncle’ in the subject line.