No Poles for Me: The Help I Almost Left Behind

A poem about asking for help, written after a first hike to Victoria Glacier.

On my very first long hike, from Lake Louise up to Victoria Glacier, I almost left my hiking poles at home. I clipped them to my pack just in case. Here is what happened.

No Poles for Me

“Do I need these for my trip?”
Of course not. Who would ask?
I answered my own question
and got on with the task.

Still, I clipped them to my pack,
just in case. I’m no fool.
Support is for the other folks.
Poles are awkward, not cool.

Hours in, my pack felt heavy,
so I pulled the poles free.
Not because I needed them.
They could carry themselves for me.

Tap. Step. Tap. Step.
A rhythm, left and right.
My arms were finally working,
and the trail itself felt light.

Crunch! The pole broke through the ice
and found the ground below.
Squish! It held through slippery mud.
I did not need them, though.

Loose rocks rolled beneath my boots.
The poles held firm and true.
I did not need them. Not at all.
They just enjoyed the view.

Then I climbed the final ridge,
with drops on either side.
The path was thin. The wind went WHOOSH.
I spread those poles out wide.

I planted both and found my ground.
My footing settled fast.
Did I need them? Do not ask.
I gripped them tight. I passed.

Eight hours later, back below,
I had to laugh at me.
“No poles for me,” the woman said.
She finished happily.

With poles.

Most of us have poles clipped to our pack. A colleague who offered to make an introduction. A mentor who said, “Call me anytime.” A friend who knows the person you need to reach.

We carry that support for miles and never use it, because asking feels awkward.

This week, choose one offer of help you have been carrying. Send the message. Make the ask.

Asking for help: use the poles you already carry

• List three people who offered help in the past year.
• Pick the offer that fits a goal you have right now.
• Write two sentences: what you are working on and the one thing you are asking for.
• Send it today. An offer gets harder to accept the longer it waits.

Why asking for help feels awkward

Asking for help feels awkward because it looks like admitting we cannot do it alone. The poles in the poem tell a different story. They did the same job whether they were wanted or doubted. Help works the same way.

Asking for help also gives something to the person you ask. People who offer support want to see it used. A request tells them their offer mattered.

At work, asking for help early saves time for the whole team. A question in the first week costs a few minutes. The same question in the last week can cost the project.

Start small. One ask, one person, this week. The answer is often yes.

For the full story of that hike, read How Does the Bag Know?

For more on making the ask, subscribe to my newsletter, Lead With the Ask.

Leila Kubesch is a keynote speaker, speaking coach, and author. Her keynote, The Art of the Ask, shows leaders and teams how to make the ask with confidence. To bring Leila to your event, write to Leila@LeilaKubesch.com.