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On January 6, eight of us enjoyed a snowy hike up from Teneriffe Trailhead over to Mt. Si‘s summit in a “lollipop loop”. We found ourselves battling horizontal snow that made it difficult to see in front of us. Seeking protection from the wind, we stopped at a wooded area below the summit. I dug the snow out of my boots, having neglected to put on the gaiters buried in my pack. Several hikers asked if anyone could spare dry mittens.

Smiling, as people adjusted gear, I reached down and made a small 4-ball snowman to mark my first snow of the year. I found myself beginning again, right where I am. Imperfect. Making mistakes. I couldn’t have expected the snow and wind we actually experienced. But I still loved every snowy, sodden minute of it. The others? Maybe not as much, judging by a few post-trip evaluations about the weather conditions and “not enough stops.”

St. Edward State Park

Two days later, I led a totally different type of trip to St. Edward State Park. It was supposed to be a celebration trip with my dog Ajax. I’d scheduled the outing before he had complications that delayed his sutures removal. But by then I was committed. I led the trip but without Ajax.

As our group of 10 headed downhill along the north trail, I heard a woodpecker. We paused to gaze through the trees and listen. “Flicker!” I called instinctually, “but I’ll double check; it might be a pileated.” The Merlin app confirmed the deeper resonant call was a pileated woodpecker. Another mistake. I laughed and explained how bird calls in the winter can sound quite similar. How the Merlin app can be a helpful back-up for identification.

We continued down to the waterfront, pausing to scan for waterfowl and grab a quick snack and bio break. On the way up the Southern Trail, I pointed out slick, muddy slopes and waited until everyone was up safely. I stopped at mushrooms, regrouped at junctions, and called “Hiker up” whenever smaller parties approached so our larger group could step aside. A post-trip evaluation dinged me for “too many stops.” Darned if you do, darned if you don’t.

A Season of Constraint

The past three weeks have been challenging in unexpected ways. Ajax’s surgical complications meant our own plans got derailed. No Pike Place Market; no Reifel Bird Sanctuary, and no day trip to the snow. We almost skipped the holidays entirely, but scrambled at the last minute to get a tree and a few gifts to exchange.

But through it all, I maintained my Mountaineers trips scheduled weeks earlier: Whittaker Wilderness (a last-second change from a snowy trip to Talapus and Olallie Lakes due to higher-than-expected snow), the Mt. Si Lollipop Loop, and the recovery walk in St. Edward State Park. We even took Ajax with us to Matthews Beach where we participated in the Plunge, although he had to stay in the car.

Recalibrating What Counts

Reflecting on the past three stressful weeks, I realize that I have zero control over what others think about my volunteer outings. As long as I remain mindful and let each moment teach me what it’s there to teach, I am confidently standing behind my personal values and principles. Nobody can take that away from me. If others don’t resonate with my definition of fun, they won’t join me for other adventures. Totally fine.

As I lead new types of hikes, I am learning alongside my hikers: people going on shorter hikes may want to keep moving to stay warm. They also tend to be novice hikers, building mileage in a new season, or rehabbing from injury. A new opportunity to coach in the field. Maybe even land some new clients.

People doing longer and harder hikes may need more explanation of what to expect if we get caught in high winds and snow. Everyone is a teacher. My job is to keep learning.

Reframing 2026

So my reframe for 2026 is not “How can I please everyone” but instead, “What does this particular (client, trip, class, experience) have to teach me?” In that way, I am beginning again, right where I am. I have a solid year of hike leader experience, with merit badges of Hike Leader of the Year (2025) and Service Award (2025) to back me up. But I also have an intense determination to keep growing and learning.

With over 50 years of trying to please others, I now realize I will never, ever please everyone. That is out of my control. So I relinquish that false story for 2026.

But if I please myself, after all these years, and follow my principles and values, I can take that as a win. Mistakes are our most precious teachers. Evaluations highlight any mistakes. Rather than choosing pain, I can label them as learning opportunities.

Ultimately, I’d stand behind every choice I made in the last three weeks. I can be proud of that. And yes, I plan to learn from them and adjust or refine for next time. Because the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over, while expecting different results. I plan to grow and change.

How about you? What’s your intention for 2026?