Where This Comes From
Trekking has a way of stripping life down to its basics. Your legs burn, the rain finds every seam in your jacket, and someone ahead of you is either setting a brutal pace or waiting patiently while you catch your breath. In those moments, I stop thinking in terms of career goals or five-year plans and start wondering what actually makes a life feel worth living.
For me, the answer keeps coming back to four things: trust, values, relationships, and fun. They sound like separate drawers in a well-organized cupboard, but on the trail they behave more like weather systems—overlapping, influencing each other, sometimes colliding. I’ve been thinking through how they show up in my life, and where I still get them wrong.
Trust, and Its Two Ways of Breaking
Trust breaks in two ways, and I’ve learned to tell the difference. Someone can be inept—well-meaning but clumsy, like the friend who insists they can assemble IKEA furniture without the instructions and ends up with a bookshelf that leans like it’s had a long night. That I can forgive, because I’ve been that friend, holding the wrong screw and blaming the furniture.
Manipulation is different. It leaves a deeper mark because it wasn’t clumsiness; it was intent. I’ve had moments where misplaced trust left me burned, and the temptation afterwards is to stop trusting altogether. But I’ve also seen what happens when I keep betting on people despite the risk. There’s something magnetic in trusting someone wholeheartedly—it challenges them to rise to the occasion. I’ve watched a colleague step up for a tough recruitment challenge, and a trekking partner keep the group together through a brutal climb, simply because someone believed they could. Some people will let you down. The ones who don’t tend to remain by your side for life.
Relationships Beyond the Ledger
We all hear that relationships count, but the phrase has become so familiar it barely registers. What I’ve come to see is that true relationships aren’t balanced like a bank ledger, where every favour gets returned with interest. They thrive when both people feel they’re gaining more than they give—not because they’re selfish, but because the connection itself is fulfilling.
On one trek, I shared a punishing uphill stretch with someone I’d met only hours earlier. By the summit, each of us insisted the other had done more to keep us going. Neither of us needed to win that argument. We were stronger together, and that was enough. That’s the sort of connection that remains with you long after the trail dust has been brushed off your shoes.
Values as Trail Markers
Values work like trail markers. When the path turns foggy, they tell you which direction to take. Talking of them is easy; living by them is where the discomfort begins. I’ve realized that commitments, big or small, define you. Saying you’ll show up and then showing up—even when it’s inconvenient—builds the sort of trust that words alone never can.
Honesty is one of my core values, and it isn’t always convenient. Sometimes telling the truth creates extra work. Sometimes it means an uncomfortable conversation. But every time I’ve chosen honesty, it has been worth carrying. It’s like hiking with a heavy pack—tough in the moment, but essential for the journey. Living by your values requires constant self-correction. Like steering a ship, you wander off course, notice it, adjust, and keep moving. That ongoing correction is where a meaningful life gets built.
Fun as Butter on Waffles
And then there’s fun—because what’s the use of building trust, honoring values, and nurturing relationships if you’re not enjoying the ride? Fun isn’t the icing on the cake; it’s the butter on the waffles, integral to the experience rather than a reward at the end of it. On one trip, rain soaked every piece of gear I had. I was miserable until someone made a ridiculous joke regarding waterproof socks. We laughed until our sides hurt, and in that moment the rain stopped being the whole story.
I can’t control how long I live, but I can control how much joy I pack into the years I have. Life is short, even when it’s long, and I’m learning that enjoyment works best when it’s built into the everyday rather than saved for a someday that keeps moving further away.
How It All Weaves Together
Trust lays the foundation, values guide the direction, relationships make the journey worth taking, and fun keeps you moving when the path turns steep. These aren’t boxes to tick. They’re layers of the same life, constantly overlapping.
As I write this, I think of how I want to show up: for the people I trust, for the values I claim, for the relationships that feel like shared victories, and for the laughter that makes rainy trails bearable. Life isn’t perfect. It becomes beautiful when you weave these threads together.
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