I was a skeptic for years. Poles felt like something you strapped to your wrists and then spent the whole hike trying not to trip over. Then I did a week with a heavy pack over wet, rooty ground, and by day three my knees were talking to me in a voice I didn't care for. I borrowed a pair of poles from a friend in the next hut. I've carried my own ever since.
The honest answer to whether they're worth it is: it depends on the terrain, the weight on your back, and how willing you are to learn a small bit of technique. Strap them on your pack for a flat lakeside stroll and they'll just clack against your water bottle. Bring them on a long climb with a full pack, or a descent over loose stone, and they stop being an accessory. They become part of your legs.
What poles actually do for you
The main job is simple: they spread the work around. Your legs take most of the load on a hike, especially downhill, where every step sends a shock up through your knees. Poles give your arms and shoulders a share of that job. Plant them right and you're turning some of your body weight into support instead of letting your joints absorb all of it.
On the flats and the climbs, they add a bit of push. Each plant gives you a small amount of forward drive, like a ski pole on dry ground. It's not dramatic, but over several hours and with a heavy pack, the difference adds up. You notice it most on long, steady climbs where your legs are doing the same motion over and over. The poles keep your rhythm honest and give your upper body something to do.
They also earn their keep on wet Nordic boardwalks. Those planks get slick as soap after rain, and a single slip with a heavy pack is a hard way to learn balance. Two extra points of contact with the ground makes you feel far more planted. On narrow, boggy sections where the wood is uneven, they give you something to brace against. I've lost count of the times a pole has stopped me from an unplanned swim in a ditch.
Shorten for the climb, lengthen for the drop
The most common mistake I see is people leaving their poles at one length all day. That's a bit like wearing your rain jacket with the hood up in sunshine. The right length changes with the angle of the ground.
Going uphill, shorten the poles. You want your arms to bend at roughly a right angle when the pole tip is on the ground ahead of you. If they're too long, you'll be reaching up and over, which strains your shoulders and pulls your chest toward the ground. Shorten them and you can push down and back, driving yourself up the slope with less effort.
Going downhill, lengthen them again. Your body needs to stay upright, not leaning back like you're on a ski lift. Longer poles let you plant them below you, taking weight off your knees with each step. The motion is more of a brake than a push. You're not trying to move forward; you're trying to keep your descent controlled and steady.
Getting the plant right
The rhythm matters more than you'd think. You want to plant each pole slightly ahead of your body, but not so far that you're over-reaching. If you're stretching to put the tip down, you're wasting energy and throwing off your balance. The plant should feel natural, like an extension of your stride, not a separate task.
Don't grip the handles like you're trying to wring water out of a towel. A relaxed grip lets the pole swing naturally. If your hands are white-knuckled after an hour, you're carrying tension you don't need. Let the pole do its work.
And learn to use the wrist straps properly. This is the bit most people get wrong. Slide your hand up through the loop from below, then let the strap sit across the back of your hand. The weight should transfer through the strap, not through your grip. When you're pushing down on a climb, the strap takes the load and your fingers stay loose. It feels odd for the first hour, but once it clicks, you'll wonder how you managed without it.
When to put them away
There are times when poles are a nuisance. Scrambling over rocks or climbing a steep, exposed section needs both hands free. Trying to do that while holding a pole in each fist is an accident waiting to happen. Collapse them, clip them to your pack, and use your hands. You can always extend them again once you're back on easier ground.
The tips matter too. Rubber tips are your friend on rock and boardwalks. They grip without scratching and they don't make that terrible clack-clack sound that echoes through a quiet valley. Carbide tips are for the messy stuff. They bite into mud and ice and hold firm where rubber would slide. I switch between them depending on the season and the ground ahead.
A note on materials and keeping it simple
If you're buying your first pair, go with adjustable aluminium poles. They're durable, they take a knock without complaining, and they're affordable. You'll probably drop them, wedge them between rocks, and generally treat them like tools. Aluminium shrugs that off. Carbon poles are lighter, which matters if you're covering long distances day after day and counting every gram. But they cost more and they're less forgiving if you catch them in a crack. For most weekend and week-long trips, aluminium is the sensible choice.
There's also the question of whether you need two at all. On flat, easy terrain, a single pole can be enough. It gives you a bit of balance on the boardwalks and takes some weight off your knees without the fuss of managing two. Some people prefer the minimal kit, and I get that. One pole is easier to stash on your pack when you don't need it, and it leaves a hand free. Try both. See what feels right for the kind of walking you do most.
Treat poles as a tool, not a crutch. They won't fix bad footwork or an overloaded pack. But on the right terrain, with the right technique, they make the hard parts feel a little less hard. And that's usually worth the extra weight.
About Erik Lindqvist
Erik Lindqvist is a Scandinavian trail guide and outdoor writer based in Norway. He has spent fifteen years hiking fjord paths, mountain ridges, and forest tracks across Norway, Sweden, and Iceland.