With long days of hiking, lectures and more hiking, we learned to conserve our energy. Especially on cloudy days when the temperature was 90 degrees. 

We packed light and hiked even lighter. In places we camped without trash cans, we had to pack our own waste in our backpacks and carry the added weight until we came to a place with trash receptacles. Without access to electricity, we had to learn to limit our usage of phones and cameras to conserve battery life. This also meant our meals consisted of dry goods and freeze-dried dinners in bags with a side of hot water and a few spoons for many mouths. Using dishes became unnecessary because washing them wasted time and water. 

One morning, after a single glorious night in a resort bed after completing a nine-mile hike, we found ourselves blessed with a microwave and mini fridge. For breakfast, we had no plates or silverware to consume our leftovers, so I ate steak and potatoes with my hands and did not think twice about it.

With conserving your entire life into one bag for three weeks in a new and unfamiliar place, you learn quickly to alter your routine. Your body, mind and sanity become reliant on your ability to be flexible and take only what you need. Consistent practice of this led me to realize how much around me is excess.

In my own life, I use too many utensils. A new one for every little thing I eat throughout the day. I over pack for everything. I sometimes even justify taking a shower after sweating for approximately five minutes.

Alaska sometimes felt like another world. With 21 hours of sunlight, we formed a habit of pushing our bodies to go on adventures for as long as they could. It didn’t feel like we were missing out on sleep until we felt groggy the next day. We thought how great it would be to live there during the summers and never run out of daylight - until we learned Alaskan winters get as little as four hours of daylight. Talk about real conservation of energy, resources and time.

I think in the rest of the United States - or the "Lower 48,” as they say in Alaska - our default is to take more, make more, use more.

I am guilty of this overconsumption on a daily basis and I bet if you really look around at your own life, you see it too. Our lives are measured by the accumulation of material things. What happens when we have it all and are so weighed down with clutter we cannot see forward? Having less makes for a lighter load. Using less makes more available overall.

We work hard for our lives and we should enjoy the rewards, but there is a fine line between a lot and excess. Conservation can be simple changes to daily tasks to impact your own life and the lives of others in the grand scheme of things.

At all of the nature sites we camped on while in Alaska, we would constantly be reminded to “Take only pictures and leave only footprints.”

What if we could all leave a smaller footprint? Challenge accepted.  

This article appears in the Welcome Week 2018 print edition of The State News.