Hmmm. Well, a couple of weekends ago, I found myself at a conference in Tahoe, and as it turns out I had 4 hours of unexpected free time on Saturday afternoon. I took stock of my surroundings and my gear and decided that I would head out towards nearby Mt. Tallack and see where I got. My gear included one fleece top, one precip top, and a pair of wind pants, in addition to the shorts, teeshirt and running shoes that I was wearing. I was starting at ~6700' and Tallack is 9700' or so, and the round trip distance was somewhere around 10 miles. I had no water bottle or food, but I was carrying along a sizable hangover.
I passed many people on the way up, most with nice Gore-tex outer layers, hats, etc. With about 1000' vertical to go the snow became a little bit more of a factor as the few wet inches made the talus underneath somewhat more complicated. On the upside, the snow was very wet at first, and just sucking on it got me a few nice gulps of water and cooled me off a bit.
I reached the summit 1hr 40 after getting on the trail, and the summit was beautiful! Lake Tahoe on one side, the snow-covered Crystal Range on the other. Blue sky with a few cotton ball clouds and white all around. Breathtaking.
Unfortunately, I was not the only person at the top. There was a group of 4 rather monopolizing the summit perch. Oh well, I moved down a little ways and found a nice sunny spot out of the breeze and basked in the sun.
As I continued to ponder the meaning of happiness and take in the beautiful surroundings, I couldn't help but overhear the conversation of the group at the summit. Words like "crazy", "tourist", "unprepared", "cityslicker", etc. with a nod in my general direction rather disrupted my tranquility. Apparently, the fact that I was not wearing my Gore-tex wind shell, gaitors, double plastic mountaineering boots, and carrying two technical ice tools caused these people worry. (note: I'm exaggerating there...)
Some things about the situation were amusing to me. For example, as I had worn very little clothing on the way up and now found myself dry, I was much warmer still wearing my shorts and teeshirt than the group on the summit in the wind looking down their noses at me with their sweat-soaked layers under their Gore-tex. Also, the hike had not been especially taxing for me, although the summit crew was clearly worn out.
The hour or so hike down gave me some time to think about some things, and so I'll humor you with some of those thoughts now.
First, for me, part of the joy of hiking and climbing and backpacking and mountaineering is the freedom and independence that I feel when I'm doing it. I don't have a boss. There is no glass ceiling. I have no time card to punch. I am only me. Second, there are times in life when you leave your standard bag of tricks at home, yet you find yourself in a spot where you still want to work some magic. In those times you can either take a risk and go on with the show, or you can wait until later when you are again "prepared". It's ok to weigh the risks and make your own decision. Third, what is difficult or dangerous or risky to you may quite literally be a walk in the park for someone else. You'll save yourself a lot of worry if you recognize that your way of doing things is just that: your way. No more, no less. It is not the right way. It is not the best way. It is your way.
I recognize that the situation that I have described and the one that plays itself out every Summer weekend on Washington are not perfectly analogous. Nevertheless, I urge you all to stop evaluating others while you hike. Truth is, you know very little about those people, in spite of how sure you are of your own hiking prowess. And that evaluative attitude inevitably takes away from the beauty of your surroundings.
Perhaps I have vented a bit here too, and I apologize for that, but I hope there are some useful nuggets in there.
Peace.