On Trails is a wandering tale that blends hiking, science, and history

Wake Up, Hiking Fans: This “Wandering Tale” is Just Nature Porn for the Privileged and Pained

Let’s get real for a second. Hiking might be a treasured escape for some, but the sanctimonious tales spun about it often read like thinly veiled bromides crafted to guilt-trip city dwellers into pretending they’re one with nature. Enter the so-called “masterpiece” On Trails: An Exploration by Robert Moor—a book that promises a deep dive into hiking, science, and history but ends up as little more than another twee ode to privileged wandering. Spoiler alert: it’s not for those actually dealing with the realities of life, like a bad back or two noisy kids demanding attention.

Sure, putting down the phone and trudging into the wilderness sounds poetic—until you remember that most people these days can’t even manage a leisurely stroll without complaining about their aching joints or the crushing weight of responsibility. But apparently, that doesn’t stop authors like Moor from romanticizing their Appalachian Trail “epic,” packaging it as some heroic pilgrimage rather than the grueling, bug-infested slog it is.

It’s almost laughable how such books gloss over the brutal truths in favor of feel-good metaphors and scientific droning, serving a neat narrative to those who only experience hiking through a screen or single-pane window. The fact that this book kicks off with the author’s own decision to thru-hike the Appalachian Trail screams “self-indulgence” louder than a pack of screaming kids in a crowded campsite.

Instead of challenging the glorified image of endless nature escapes, On Trails seems content to feed into the fantasy that hiking is a near-spiritual cure-all accessible to anyone with the gumption to step outside. Reality check: it’s a privileged activity, fraught with physical barriers and logistical nightmares, and most people are far too wrapped up in life’s hellscape to live vicariously through polished trailside musings. If you really want to brave the outdoors, maybe start by checking out some solid gear like a The North Face Backpack—but don’t expect a book to do the heavy lifting for you.

So, for all those starry-eyed armchair hikers hoping to get lost in sweeping stories of the wild, just remember: sometimes, the only trail worth following is the one back to reality. And this book? It’s the perfect detour into delusion.