Nature‘s erstwhile NatureJobs editor, Paul Smaglik, writes (Nature 449, 253; 2007) a dispatch from the wilderness:

Long-distance hiking is a lot like doing science. After leaving my post as editor of Naturejobs this spring, it took me about 1,200 kilometres, 20 thunderstorms and 12 rattlesnakes to really understand the similarities. While walking a portion of the 3,380-kilometre Appalachian Trail, which runs from Georgia to Maine, it seemed that there was always farther to go, with no promise of an immediate payback. Days could go by without even the reward of a scenic vista. Some days, the walking felt akin to the daily slog of accumulating data without the guarantee of a publication or a grant.

My wife and I experienced obstacles ranging from the mildly irritating (ticks and mosquitoes) to the potentially dangerous (wind, sleet and hail on exposed ridges). These obstacles have their professional analogues. Ticks are akin to professional parasites trying to take credit for your data. Mud could be compared to the fallout from controversial findings. And weather that can change from sunny to cataclysmic in an instant sums up the mercurial funding world in which scientists function.

There are positive analogies, too. The panorama of layers of blue and green mountain ridges, glimpsed from above the clouds, feels like a eureka moment in an experiment. And the occasional hiker’s high of striding effortlessly over 30 kilometres of peaks and valleys felt like one of those rare lab days when everything clicks.

The experience gave my wife and I insights that will serve us off the trail — and that scientists may well appreciate. Both on the trail and in the lab, there are so many things that can go wrong every day that there’s no point in blaming anyone: just accept the situation and get on with it.

My wife developed a hiking litmus test, which could also be applied to scientific careers. If we woke up in the morning eager to walk again, no matter how much we had been beaten up by the elements the previous day, we would continue. That feeling of excitement never subsided, no matter how cold, wet, sore and dirty we got. So too in science, if you no longer have that sensation of hope, curiosity and anticipation, it might be time to stop — or at least to look for another job.