It all started with a pair of hiking boots. My best friend Lila had convinced me to join her on a sunrise trek to Potato Chip Rock, one of San Diego County’s most Instagram-worthy spots. If you’ve never seen it, it’s a thin, gravity-defying slice of granite that juts out over an expansive canyon—prime real estate for capturing that “I’m-so-adventurous” aesthetic. The plan was simple: a 4 a.m. wake-up call, a steady uphill climb, and a triumphant photo session at the top. Easy, right? What could possibly go wrong?
Everything, it turns out.
The Early Signs of Disaster (aka, I Should’ve Known Better)
The morning started with the kind of optimism they only write about on coffee mugs. I laced up my barely-worn hiking boots, tossed some trail mix into my backpack, and grabbed three bottles of water. I was feeling prepared—scratch that, overprepared. I’d watched a YouTube video about the hike the night before, so naturally, I was a self-proclaimed expert on the trail. With Lila’s upbeat playlist and a trunk full of snacks, we cruised toward the hike like two suburban Thelma and Louises.
But have you ever met someone who buys all the right gear but doesn’t actually know how to use it? Hi, I’m Julianne. Nice to meet you. Those hiking boots? They were brand-new and stiff as a board, basically designed for creating blisters, not preventing them. That trail mix? Entirely chocolate chips because I thought I’d earned a little “treat” every mile. And the water? Spoiler alert: three bottles were not, in fact, enough under the merciless Southern California sun.
Mistake #1: Underestimating the Trail
The first mile of the hike lulled me into a false sense of security. It was fairly easy—a dusty, meandering path dotted with wildflowers and the occasional bunny darting across the trail. Lila and I were in great spirits, cracking jokes and debating which Real Housewives cast could handle this hike (spoiler: none of them). But then the incline hit. And kept hitting.
By the second mile, my calves were staging a full-blown mutiny against me. Each turn revealed yet another steep stretch of rock, as if the trail had read my mind and decided to troll me. Somewhere between sucking wind and muttering obscenities under my breath, I glanced over at Lila, who was practically skipping up the mountain like a woodland sprite. Meanwhile, I was tripping on tree roots, sweating through my SPF shirt, and occasionally swallowing a bug for added protein.
Mistake #2: Overcommitting to the Aesthetic
When we finally reached Potato Chip Rock—or rather, when Lila practically dragged my wheezing, blistered self up the last stretch—I was determined to make the most of it. After all, isn’t that the unwritten rule of social media? If you don’t get a picture, did it even happen?
What I didn’t anticipate was how utterly terrifying Potato Chip Rock actually looks in person. I’d seen the photos, sure, but standing on it was another story. The “potato chip” that looks so sturdy on Instagram is shockingly thin, like a tortilla teetering on the edge of a frying pan. And there I was, about to shuffle onto it like some kind of human sacrifice to the content gods.
As I crouched down to edge my way toward the middle, I caught a glance at someone else’s photo—including the drop-off behind them—and promptly regretted every life choice that had led me here. But Lila, bless her determined little heart, was cheering me on. You know in action movies when the hero stares down a crumbling bridge and everyone chants, “You’ve got this”? It was like that, except I was definitely not the hero in this scenario.
Once on the edge, I struck what I thought was the perfect pose. Cute, confident, very much looking like I wasn’t seconds away from peeing my pants. Then Lila snapped a photo, gave me a thumbs-up, and… that’s when I heard a terrifying pop.
Mistake #3: Overlooking the Basics (Like, Hydrating)
The pop wasn’t the rock breaking (thankfully—I’m here writing this, after all). It was my knee. Apparently, crouching awkwardly for the perfect shot while dehydrated isn’t great for your joints. Who knew? I stumbled back onto solid ground with an exaggerated limp that screamed, “This hike is OVER.”
Except, it wasn’t over. We still had to go back down.
Oh, you sweet summer child, past-Julianne. Did you really think downhill would be easier? Descending the mountain felt like navigating a booby-trapped obstacle course, every step a painful reminder of my poor pre-hike choices. My blisters were now fully upgraded to medieval torture devices, my water was almost gone, and Lila was trying to stay positive... but even she had stopped talking about brunch plans. I think she could sense the mutiny brewing in my soul.
To top it off, the trail was now swarming with mid-morning hikers—most of whom looked annoyingly fresh as they breezed past us. One guy asked if I was okay, which was both kind and humiliating. By the time we reached the parking lot, I tossed off my boots and swore to never hike again.
Lessons Learned (or, How Not to Fail Like Me)
So, what did I get out of this misadventure besides a bruised ego and a newfound hatred for rock formations shaped like snacks? Plenty, actually:
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Don’t Overestimate Your Gear (or Yourself):
Break in those hiking boots, people. That fancy gear is useless if it hasn’t seen action before your big outing. The same goes for relationships: before you commit to anything long-term, test the little things—like how you handle each other’s quirks under pressure. -
Preparation Matters, Even for “Easy” Journeys:
Three water bottles seemed like plenty until I was halfway up the trail, sweating like I was running a marathon in a sauna. Similarly, in relationships, don’t assume things will work themselves out without putting effort into the prep work. Communicate, set expectations, and pack an emotional “water bottle” or two for when things get tough. -
Skip the Faux Aesthetics:
If you’re only doing something for the ‘Gram, you’ve already lost the plot. Whether in relationships or adventures, authenticity always wins. I’d have been better off snapping a happy, sweaty selfie on stable ground instead of risking life and limb to look cool. -
Laugh at the Mess:
When things don’t go as planned (and trust me, they rarely do), embrace it. Lila and I still laugh about this hike when we’re a glass of wine deep. If you can find humor in a shared disaster, it’s probably a relationship worth keeping—platonic or otherwise.
The Encouraging Takeaway
While I may never look at Potato Chip Rock without a slight twinge in my knee, that hike taught me a lot about preparation, humility, and the importance of having a friend who stays positive even when you’re a blubbering mess.
Misadventures, whether on the trail or in love, are inevitable. You’re going to trip over roots, underestimate the incline, or pack the wrong snacks. But if you can laugh it off, learn the lesson, and keep going—blisters and all—you’ll come out stronger on the other side. So, here’s to the missteps that make life interesting and—in the end—totally worth it.
