I have led more Mountaineers hikes than I ever imagined possible—23 of the 43 hikes hikes I’ve done so far in 2025. And we’re only in July. Yet I find myself quietly wondering: So what? Is it enough? The answer, it turns out, is layered. To build a personal hiking community, yes. To reach as many people as possible within the 17,000 club membership, no. What am I trying to do with my hikes? Are they purely for me, or for those I lead? Is it enough to have the time of my life? Should I be diversifying? Should I be doing more? Herein I ponder the concept of “enough” based on reflections from this week’s outings.

Three Recent Hikes
I participated in three very different outings the past week. The first was a lovely scouting trip to Wallace Lake on Saturday with my husband and Ajax, our dog. The second was a fifth annual hike with an old college buddy of mine, her son, and my daughter to Mirror Lake on Tuesday. And the third, Thursday, was an open-to-all Mountaineers hike including people I’ve hiked with outside of CHS (Conditioning for Hiking Series, the class I’ve helped lead since April). My trip to Talapus and Olallie Lakes was purely for fun rather than a target pace, distance, and elevation gain.
Each brought me face to face with a different part of myself. This week, I’ve been revisiting an old question with new eyes: What does “enough” really mean? Can leading hikes fulfill multiple purposes?

Wallace Lake: Setting a Boundary
Last week my husband and I went to Wallace Lake, completing 10 miles and 2000’ gain with our dog Ajax. As soon as we departed from the main Wallace Falls trail, it felt like we had the trail mostly to ourselves. We had no timeline, no group dynamics, no pace to manage.
My husband enjoys talking on hikes, whereas I’m generally a listener. We ended up discussing our business, something I tend to avoid in the mountains. At one point I felt “pushed” into something that I “should” do and immediately felt my inner rebel stamping her foot. I needed space and told him, “That’s enough.” A few minutes later, I explained what happened, and the rest of the day went wonderfully. That’s the first time I’ve set a conversation boundary while hiking. It shows how much I’m growing this year.

Takeaway
Enough isn’t always about distance or difficulty. Sometimes it can be about depth and meaning. At Wallace Lake it was more about my personal boundaries and why I go to the mountains in the first place. I could physically discern when I was feeling threatened, and I put up the barricade to self-protect. Difficult? Yes. Necessary? Absolutely. Recovery? Fortunately we could discuss, learn, and grow from it.
When have you “had enough”? What physical signals mean “enough” to you?
Mirror Lake: Letting Go of Control
Last Tuesday, my daughter and I rode with an old college friend of mine, ES, and her teenage to hike Mirror Lake on the Pacific Crest Trail, a 7-mile trip starting from a rutted gravel road. Rather than the leader, I acted more like the coordinator.

This was my and ES’s fifth annual trip, one we look forward to every year. It was my daughter’s second hike to this particular lake with a big “jumping rock” near the shore, and her second hike this summer. I wanted to give her time and space to enjoy swimming.
After 1.5 hours at the lake, we headed back. I started worrying about rush hour traffic through north Seattle. As we looked for frogs and picked blueberries on the trail, I realized I had another worry: my phone had stopped working. No amount of tapping, cursing, or cajoling could get the black screen to change.

Without my Ebird app, a way to keep notes, camera, or tracking device (all of which I enjoy but none of which are essential), I realized I’ve become too reliant on technology, even in nature. It became a preoccupation, and I felt hot, sweaty, and slightly irritated with two hours of driving before us.
My win? Calmly solving my tech issue without freaking out and without asking for help. A huge first. Maybe, finally, I can befriend technology instead of battle it constantly.
Takeaway
Enough may be about who we influence and help, not just what we achieve. It can also be about keeping your cool long enough to get through traffic, solve a minor irritant, or get some nourishment in your belly.
When was the last time you felt triggered? How did you keep cool until the trigger passed?
Talapus and Olallie Lakes: Thriving in My Element
On Thursday, nine of us enjoyed perfect conditions for a club hike to Talapus and Olallie Lakes. I’ve led this trip in all four seasons, one of the aspects of leading I love: seeing how trails change.

What made this trip unique is it’s the first open-to-all hike I’ve led since April when I started helping with the CHS course. On this trip I made new friends, but I also hiked with people I haven’t seen in months, including one person who last hiked with me 25 years ago.
Forging Connections
On this hike, I shared with one participant that my mission is help people to thrive in the mountains, in whatever way possible. That is my legacy. Whether I help with their physical conditioning, get past mental blocks, lead them to new beautiful places, or support them through discomfort, I am meant to be leading in the mountains.
As soon as I got back from this third hike, I started researching another I might add in August. Why? What is the compulsion to keep leading? What does it give me? How can I stop “chasing THERE”? Can I realize that what I have right now is great enough? Or am I having so much fun that I want that enjoyment to keep happening? Have I become addicted to the mountains?

Takeaway
Enough may require pausing the striving and letting ourselves witness what already is. Physically, I feel better than I ever have. My body, mind, and spirit return refreshed and invigorated, and I am meeting dozens of great people. Can you have too much of a good thing? What is the difference between joy/liveliness and obsession/addiction? As I embark on the last two months of CHS, with hikes stretching into the 15-20 miles range, part of me is excited to stretch my limits. Without injury, of course.
What “Enough” Means to Me
This morning, I perused a few Mountaineers trip reports. Summits I’ve climbed including Eldorado. Sahale. Shuksan. Baker. Rainier. Vistas that I require scrambling or technical climbing. And I felt a yearning I haven’t had in years. Almost jealousy.

And I realize that maybe “enough” has less to do with matching others’ summit photos, and more to do with claiming my own terrain: the relationships I’m building, the memories I’ve shared, the lives I’ve touched in classes and CHS. More importantly, the fun I’m having. I am doing what I set out to do in November 2024. Leading hikes. Making a difference. Building community.
These three hikes reminded me that the work of a lifetime doesn’t always result in reaching a snowy peak. Instead, it’s the shaded trail, the encouragement offered to a struggling hiker, the lovely alpine lake, or a familiar face I haven’t seen in a while. That is more than enough.

Takeaway
So what? Is it enough? Yes. When I see the faces of those I hike with, when I feel my body humming with joy, and when I know I’m doing exactly what I was meant to do—then yes, it is enough. But that doesn’t mean I’ll stop leading anytime soon. I have more people to meet, more trails to explore, and more challenges to face.
What does “enough” look like in your own life right now? Are you getting enough of what fills you up, or have you had enough to make a big change? And if you’re ready to make a change, I’m here to help!