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The first time I ever climbed a mountain with a boyfriend, it did not go well. In retrospect, it’s not hard to see why: He had traveled from a breezy East Coast beach town to visit me in Phoenix, Arizona—at the height of summer. He had never climbed a mountain, let alone a desert peak. Here, the horizon shimmers with heat. Shade is scarce, and even the land itself appears sunburned.
I was sure everything would be fine. We drove to the Camelback Mountain trailhead with a group of my friends he’d never met. It was early in the day, but not early enough to escape the swelter. This close to the city, it never really cools down, anyway, even after sunset; the heat just keeps radiating from the pavement all night long.
These days, I wouldn’t take a first-time hiker up a mountain as steep as Camelback. But at the time, it seemed like the perfect way to introduce my partner to a new hobby I’d fallen head over heels for. I loved hiking. How could anyone not?
Not long after we started, however, the trouble began. At first, his comments were just minor complaints—annoying, but forgivable. After all, this wasn’t easy. It was hot, and the trail rugged. In the dry heat of the Sonoran Desert, even your sweat goes on strike, seemingly evaporating before it has a chance to cool you down.
Partway up the mountain, his complaints evolved into something that felt more like a tantrum. I don’t remember exactly what he said, but in my memory it was something like this: “I hate this. This is so hard and I hate this so much. Why did you bring me here, why did you do this to me? I’m going to die. It’s so hot. It’s so [expletive] hot. I’m going to die. I’m going to die! I never want to do this ever again. THIS SUCKS AND I AM DYING.”
I knew he wasn’t actually in danger. It was warm, but not unusually so. We were moving slowly, we had plenty of water, and we were caked in sunscreen. Complaints are contagious in the mountains, and bad moods make the heat feel ten times worse. I would like the record to show that I worked very hard not to roll my eyes. And not to give into a brief but sudden urge to abandon him on the side of the mountain.
I was 21 and embarrassed in front of my friends, so I tried to calm him down. But nothing I said reassured my now-ex that he was not, actually, in mortal peril. Our relationship, however, was. It ended a couple of weeks later.
This hike wasn’t the whole reason we broke up—we were friends who’d fallen into something more, and distance revealed that it wasn’t the right fit—but hiking became my go-to litmus test for analyzing new relationships.
Before you dismiss me as a judgmental fitness elitist who inflicts suffering upon innocent men for sport, hear me out: This isn’t about analyzing their physical aptitude on a hike. It’s about analyzing their attitude.
It’s easy for a new partner to behave on a dinner date or to stay cheery during a relaxed walk in the park near home. But I believe the best way to test-drive relationship compatibility is to experience challenge together.
Sure, you could try this at a high-pressure escape room, or in your home office while reassembling secondhand flatpack furniture that is definitely missing crucial pieces. But hiking is a little more scenic. Plus, you can learn so much about someone by observing how they approach a physical challenge, and how they act when they’re either much faster or much slower than you are. Imagine stripping away all the pretensions and small talk, and compressing the first two months of a relationship into just two hours. (Please will someone give me a reality TV show to showcase this? I will not disappoint you.)
Some might warn you against stressing a relationship too early. Psychologist Mark Travers wrote in Forbes that he suggests waiting 100 days before going on vacation with a new partner. You want to make sure you’ve navigated challenges together in the past before trying it in a difficult setting. Otherwise, you might expose elements of their personality that cause conflict, he writes, to which I say: Bring. It. On.
I’ve taken many “too soon” trips with men I was dating or interested in dating and have always found these adventures enlightening. What better way to evaluate whether you want to spend time with someone—or to figure out how you navigate stress, conflict, and detours or disruptions together—than actually putting your dynamic to the test?
Once, I met an old flame for a semi-spontaneous camping trip. A month or two later, just a few dates in, I joined his family trip to climb the Middle Teton. Right around the halfway point of the hike, I was horrified to realize I was out of my depth and unable to safely make the summit push. My knees were shaking and I was devastated at the idea of burdening the group. I knew how badly they all wanted to make it to the summit, as they had tried and failed twice before, and I started crying at the prospect that it might be my fault they wouldn’t make it this time. But my then-boyfriend smiled, dried my tears, promised me the peak wasn’t going anywhere, and sent everyone on ahead while he hung back with me. I felt cared for, supported, and protected. This was someone who wouldn’t ask me to push myself beyond my limits for his benefit. It was a signal to me that we would allow each other to be imperfect, and that we were both willing to navigate challenges together. We stayed together for four more years.
Since the debacle on Camelback, I have also been on many trips that were not so successful. But I never once regretted taking a trip too early in a relationship. If we had waited to travel together, it would have just taken us longer to figure out it wasn’t the right fit. I’d much rather fail fast.
What to look for when you’re hiking with someone for the first time
Red Flags
Compatibility looks completely different from one couple to the next, so I don’t want to write off certain behaviors as necessarily “bad.” Someone who’s compatible with me could be your worst nightmare. People also do weird things when they’re nervous around someone they really like. So, these “red flags” aren’t necessarily dealbreakers, but whenever I come across them I try to dig deeper and explore better ways to communicate. Sometimes, their response can be even more revealing than the initial behavior.
If they’re fitter/faster/better:
- They offer unsolicited tips to spur me into performing at their level, and don’t take hints (or direct requests) to stop.
- They seem to think they know best, regardless of my experience.
- They’re always hiking or skiing up ahead and taking off again as soon as I catch up, and they won’t entertain conversations about our pace.
- It feels like we’re doing separate activities at separate paces, rather than spending quality time together.
If they’re slower/less fit/less experienced:
- They’re angry or put off by my fitness or experience, and/or they can’t communicate about what’s not working for them.
- They’re overly competitive and always act as if one of us is winning and one is losing.
If the weather is awful:
- They’re constantly complaining—not in a fun, “let’s laugh about this together” way, but in a way that seems self-centered.
- They’re very loud about being uncomfortable, but don’t seem that concerned about my comfort.
- I feel like I need to manage them in addition to taking care of myself.
If one person wants to turn around:
- The conversation feels hostile or full of resentment.
- I feel like the other person is trying to push me into doing what they want, rather than hearing out my desires and perspective.
- The other person won’t accept “quitting,” and/or is dismissive about safety concerns.
Green Flags
Green flags aren’t guarantees, but they can be signs that your partner is being considerate of you and your experience together. These behaviors could show that your partner knows how to put you and the relationship first—even when things get hard. It’s probably worth noting, however, that if you’re constantly analyzing whether your relationship is “working,” that might also be a sign that something is missing. Conversely, when everything is going well, it might not even occur to you to ask that question.
If they’re fitter/faster/better:
- They’re willing to slow down and enjoy a leisurely day.
- They’re conscious of giving too much unsolicited advice and check in with me about what I want to hear before offering tips.
- Despite the differences in fitness or ability, it still feels like we’re doing this activity together.
If they’re slower/less fit/less experienced:
- They seem comfortable trying new things even if they don’t immediately excel.
- They’re happy to let me be better at something without letting their ego interfere.
If the weather is awful:
- They’re able to laugh at the situation or laugh at themselves.
- They show concern about me and my comfort.
- It feels like we’re in this together.
If one person wants to turn around:
- We’re both able to check our egos at the door and have a calm, rational discussion that makes both parties feel heard.
- The decision is reached with obvious care, compassion, and thoughtfulness for both people.
- They show potential for being an equal and considerate partner.
To be clear, I am not suggesting you set out to intentionally test your partner. That is a recipe for failure, and probably indicative of a lack of trust or confidence in your relationship. You don’t have to like hiking to be a good partner. It’s also important to remember that you’re part of the equation, too. You can learn a lot from analyzing the way you respond to your partner and their behavior.
But in my experience, compatibility red flags are never a product of their environment. Conflict that happens in the wilderness, doesn’t stay in the wilderness.
Camelback guy later apologized for his behavior on the mountain, and years later he even gave hiking another try (in a cooler environment) and discovered that he actually loves it. But I see now that that fight was an echo of previous tensions in our relationship, and I bet we would have figured out our romantic trajectory sooner if we’d had an occasion to hike together earlier on.