The origin of “the suck” is military slang (there’s a great article from NPR about it), a verbal recognition of the indescribable experiences of soldiers. Over the years this vernacular has made its way into mainstream conversations and to slang used by other niche groups of people. “The Suck” has become particularly noticeable in the outdoor community among adventure enthusiasts and dirtbags alike.
When it comes to backcountry activities of all kinds, something will eventually happen during the time we spend out there that doesn’t go as planned. Sometimes the suckiness is forgetting a piece is gear (or breaking a piece of gear), rain for days, snow in your short shorts, running out of food, shin splints, 40 mile days, and constant pain all over, especially in the feet.
Those of us who have had shit hit the fan in the backcountry know “the suck” applies here too.
My last few weeks on the PCT this summer we’re in the beautiful state of Washington. Towards the end of the weather window near Canada the weather took a significant turn for the cold, wet, and definitely below freezing temps in the Northern Cascades. It’s indescribably gorgeous there, a “green Sierra”, clouds and rain, and blue alpine lakes. I had glimpses of what’s it can look like on a nice day in Washington. For the most part, however, walking through Washington was a lot of the suck.
Being wet for days on end, barely seeing any sun and very very cold nights. Below freezing mornings where ice would gather inside my tent and wouldn’t melt or dry. I’d carry my wet tent around hoping for some sun to stop and dry it out. It was wet shoes always, it was uncontrollable shivering and sweaty shorts and then walking through overgrown, dew-drop-covered plants and just getting colder. It was waking up and eating while I was walking (cold soaking was in this section was a terrible idea).
It was a 32-mile day with only one break to stop and eat lunch when I ran out of protein bars and there was an open patch in the clouds for half an hour. It was trudging, hiking too hard just to be warm enough to keep hiking because if I stopped I wouldn’t have enough food to get to the next resupply spot. It was eating cold ramen noodles every night and sitting around a campfire and not getting much warmer, shaking in my puffy and thermal layers the last night on the trail. It was hard. I wanted to be done, to stop walking, to curl up in my sleeping bag and go to bed at 9am and rest. It was knowing that wasn’t an option.
Earlier on in the journey, the suck was hiking through the night, all the way through the dark until it was light out again stumbling into camp or town as the sun came up and then not sleeping because it was too hot. It was almost falling over my feet were in so much pain and my legs hurt and crying while I was walking.
Then it was being hungry in the Sierra. The suck was rushing to town (again) because I couldn’t carry enough food. Being so hungry and having to eat less so I would make it to town without starving in the mountains. Losing enough weight in two weeks my hip belt didn’t fit anymore.
The suck morphs along the trail and looks different for everyone and happens at different times for everyone. We really only get a fraction of it though. It’s a self-induced “suck.” Suffer by choice. In some ways, we trade our pain for pleasure. I gladly gave my body to the mountains, let them tear me up, drench and degrade me to see those places and hear the quiet roar of stillness that isn’t readily available in the rest of our lives. It sucked, and I’d do it again right now if I could.
Sometimes the only thing to do is keep moving, one foot in front of another. Sometimes alone, sometimes together, we’re all in it suffering along because we love what we do enough to endure.
STUDY HIKE 