The 5 Stages of Emotional Combustion When Your Hike Gets Cancelled

Ah, hiking. The magical blend of suffering and scenic views. You have it all meticulously planned—the trail, the post-hike feast, the blog post that would finally make you internet-famous (or at least mildly admired by your three loyal readers)—But then, out of nowhere, a cruel external force (weather, your indecisive friend, or, the worst possible villain, your own child) swoops in like a wrecking ball and initiates a catastrophic chain reaction.

Science tells us that chemical reactions require specific conditions to proceed smoothly. When those conditions are disrupted (i.e. your hike is rudely snatched from your grasp), a predictable emotional meltdown ensues. Let’s analyze the five inevitable stages of your (okay, my) emotional combustion.

1. Denial – "No, no, no. This hike is happening."

At first, your brain flat-out refuses to process this level of injustice.

The weather app must be wrong. "100% chance of rain? Please. Meteorologists are basically just highly paid fortune tellers. Also, I own a raincoat. And an unshakable will to suffer in the name of adventure."

Or your group/friend changes their mind because of the weather.

Or—oh, the betrayal—your own child will decide that fresh air is overrated and start wailing about the horrors of waking up early on a Sunday.

You refresh the forecast, reread the group text, or stare at your child like a scientist observing a disappointing lab rat. But deep down, you know the truth: The hike is dead.

2. Anger– "WHO DID THIS TO ME?!"

And so, the rage begins. Perhaps it’s aimed at Mother Nature, who, despite her reputation for beauty, has once again proven herself an unpredictable tyrant.

Or at your friend/hiking group, who had to cancel.

Or at your own short-sighted past self, who dared to reproduce a small human with their very own opinions.

The injustice burns bright. Your heart rate spikes. You then need a hike more than ever!

3. Bargaining – "Wait, wait, I can salvage this."

In an attempt to stabilize the reaction, you begin desperate and highly irrational problem-solving.

"What if we hike a different trail? What if we leave earlier? What if we just embrace the storm and call it ‘extreme hiking’?" Your messages to your hiking buddies grow more unhinged: “What if we do a NIGHT hike? A full-moon summit? Maybe just relocate to an entirely different province?”

Your friends and/or offspring, worn down by your relentless denial, begin taking evasive action. Texts go unanswered. Read receipts taunt you. They eventually leave you shouting into a digital void, feeling like an unhinged toddler throwing a tantrum that no one is willing to witness.

4.Depression – "Everything Is Awful, and I Am Trapped Indoors Forever"

The inevitable collapse. The combustion reaction has burned through its fuel, leaving only smoldering ashes and your shattered dreams.

You kick off your hiking boots, fling yourself onto your bed with the grace of a tragic Victorian heroine. Face buried in your pillow, you whisper to the universe, "What am I, if not a hiker robbed of their hike?"

Scrolling through old hiking photos, you reflect on what could have been—enlightenment, fresh air......continue to whisper "But why??"

In your grief, you consider eating both the pre- and post-hike meals. You do. You regret nothing.

5. Acceptance – "Fine. Bigger, better hike next time."

Eventually, the storm (internal and external) passes. You find solace in other activities—perhaps a moody walk around the block, or passive-aggressively sending your friend/child a series of stunning mountain photos captioned “someday.”

You consider ordering new gear because, well, retail therapy.

Final Analysis:

Hiking dreams may combust, but a true hiker regenerates like an indestructible catalyst.

And then, like any good hiker, you start planning the next trip. Because the cycle must continue.

"Okay, forget that sad little hike. I’m going bigger. More extreme. Snow? Bring it on. Swamps? Oh, absolutely. A multi-day trek through the wilderness, where cell service is a myth and blisters are a badge of honor? TOTALLY!!

Unless, of course, your hike gets cancelled again.

At which point—and let’s be honest, you already know where this is going—please return to Step 1 and relive the cycle like the emotionally unstable, nature-obsessed creature that you are.

…Or wait. Seriously? Is that just me??

Because, in the end, no amount of meticulous trail planning or poetic odes to the great outdoors can defeat the most ruthless villain of all: the cruel, unpredictable chaos of plans.