The long daily miles of the PCT through-hike provide endless opportunity for contemplation. Here in the high Sierra, I find myself considering the notion and experience of awe, not just daily but often hourly, sometimes continuously.

What is awe?

Awe can be defined as the mental state we enter when we encounter something vast and mysterious. It’s the combination of both magnitude and mystery that can catapult us into this uniquely-blissful state. For me, stepping into the back country is often the most immediate reminder of the incredible richness and texture this state brings to life.

The Physicality of Awe

Scientists note that there exist special physiologies of positive states. Perhaps most familiar to many of us is goosebumps, the spontaneous dimpling of our skin that occurs when we witness the vast and mysterious, the beautifully inexplicable.

Goosebumps are not unique to humans; other animals experience awe just as we do. Jane Goodall has observed this phenomenon in chimps – goosebumps when they witness an especially powerful storm or majestic mountains.

Awe can also feel colored by fear and anxiety. I’ve absolutely experienced this on the PCT, in the high Sierra. The majesty and grace and wonder of the spectacular granite peaks stand in sharp contrast to the harrowing feat of ascending their snow- and ice-covered vertical grades, knowing that a misstep could mark the end not just of my wonder, but of this through-hike or even of my life. Similarly, the astounding power of snow melt-swollen rivers is not just awe-inspiring to regard, but terrifying to cross.

The Spirituality of Awe

Walt Whitman asked, “If the soul is not in the body, where is the soul?” Hiking in a state of awe brings me to this question, when my soul feels larger than my self. I sense that I am simultaneously smaller than a grain of sand and also as expansive as the vastness of the universe. Awe is transcendent.

When we allow ourselves fully to experience it, the state of awe can equate to the absence of the ego – the momentary dissolution of the awareness of self as separate from the sacredness in which we are physically located. You have likely, as I surely have, teared up in awe.

The Sociality of Awe

Dacher Ketner, on awe, says, “It’s about merging with others to make sense of mystery.”

Moral beauty can move us to this state. It’s not just the mountains and rivers around us, but the people. Witnessing my skilled, determined, laser-focused daughter successfully summit Mt Whitney in extremely adverse snow conditions, and also her deep caring for those around her and her tireless pursuit to ensure their – and my – safety, has absolutely brought me to tears of awe.

Ketner notes that awe “is not just fundamental to the human imagination, it’s what’s most humane in our human experience.”

States of awe can make us sharper, more able to think critically and recognize systems, connections, and interdependencies. In short, awe counters polarization. I would argue that we need this now more than ever.

Rachel Carson said, “Teach your child to wonder.” And if no one taught this to your child self, it’s not too late. Wonder is the path to awe.

Get on out there, look around, witness the beauty and wonder – in the mountains, the sea, a palmful of soil, the selfless actions of others – and bask in the richness and interconnectedness of awe.

We are all, each and every one of us, part of something larger than ourselves. We are, all of us, wild.