A year on from my experience of a lifetime, I can’t keep quiet anymore. I need to sing the praises of the Black Diamond Trekking Poles.
In my final year of university, I decided my summer would be spent on a pilgrimage from Canterbury to Rome. As the date approached, and I was preparing all my equipment for the trip, I knew I needed trekking poles. My requirements were that they be durable and not too expensive. With their metal construction and reasonable price tag, these were perfect.
Then, I was in Canterbury. After admiring the soaring cathedral, I loosened my poles from my pack, adjusted their length, and started walking. It was my first time walking with trekking poles, and they felt very natural and comfortable in my hands. Here we go, I thought as the poles clack-clacked against the pavement. 3 months. Walking.
Four days in, my achilles tendons were swollen and surged with fire every step I took. I had walked too much, too soon. I could no longer walk properly. I was ready to call it quits. Luckily, I had my trekking poles for support. I used them to drag myself to the next town, where I met other pilgrims who gave me the encouragement necessary to continue.
From Besancon, I clack-clacked my way across the Jura and into Switzerland, my trekking poles always in hand. I would have felt naked without them.
To get to Italy, I had to cross the alps. Up I went, clack-clack morphing into thump-thump as I walked on trails instead of roads. I almost got lost in the mountains. Finally, I got to the alpine pass, having ascended what amounted to two days for most, in one day. Days later I would meet people who had but heard whispers of my feat. Do you think I used trekking poles for this? Of course I did.
As I traversed Tuscany, poles ever-present in my hands, I felt strong walking. All the previous days experience had accumulated into a type of wisdom and rhythm. Periodically, the tip of the pole would get wedged into cobblestone and give me a jolt. But this was not the pole’s fault. I should have gotten rubber tips instead of the carbide ones I was using. As I walked into villages and towns with my trekking poles and pilgrim beard, I didn’t care how I looked. I felt invincible.
On my pilgrimage, I learned to not take things for granted. I felt grateful for my trekking poles, for having been with me every step of the way. And I felt grateful for BD, for making such an amazing pair of magic sticks.
My poles now reside in the garage. They don’t get much use. As a fit 24-year old, I don’t need them to walk around town. But they are ready for the moment I decide to go trekking again. And I look forward to the next time I will get to spend long days with the Black Diamond Trekking Poles.