I have a predilection for the epic solo journey on foot. Tracking a river, summitting a mountain, crossing unwelcoming terrain — and being rewarded, at the end of it all, with some kind of sublime moment earned through effort and even pain. We lonely traipsers imagine ourselves like the figure in Caspar David Friedrich’s Romantic painting, Wanderer above the Sea of Fog: staring out from a rocky precipice across a vast landscape, in awe of nature, but also feeling like masters of all we survey.  

Solitary wanderers can, admittedly, be selfish narcissists, though often we are just troubled souls needing a bit of me time. We are enabled by plenty of literary precursors. Henry David Thoreau stomped off into the woods “to live deliberately” (implicit in this: he wanted to be alone). Laurie Lee “walked out one midsummer morning” and tramped across Spain. Cheryl Strayed hiked 1,000 miles along the Pacific Crest Trail, then wrote a book about it and was played by Reese Witherspoon in the 2014 film Wild.

There is also something appealing in the archetype of the travelling duo. The gently comic version is Bill Bryson’s A Walk in the Woods, set on that other grand American path, the Appalachian Trail. When rambling as a pair goes wrong, it can feel more like a Cormac McCarthy novel. Still, there is something to be said for the companionship.
But two is mu upper limit.

Or so I thought.

My wife and I recently had the opportunity to hike the Green Mountain Trail in the Elgin Valley, which presented me with a conundrum. Exploring the pristine slopes of the Groenlandberg in the Kogelberg Biosphere Reserve? A slackpacking experience with a comfortable bed each night? Fine dining and wine tasting? Sign me up for all of it.