It ended the same way it began: with a dimly lit pool game on the second floor of a hostel in Chicago.

It’s February, and rows of green paper hearts line the wall of windows overlooking the busy street, each one carrying some small, scribbled confession. Beyond them, the city presses itself against the glass, thrumming with life and love inside the cold dark of night.

I arrive dressed in black, a ballcap pulled low over my brow, headphones in, listening to the same ten songs that have carried me through the past couple months. The hostel is more or less empty; a blessing in disguise. I grab a pool cue and rack the balls the way I always do: solids and stripes alternating around the rim, the yellow one at the top, the black eight at the center, and the two bottom balls switched in the lower-right corner. My hands move slowly, following the familiar sequence. As silly as it may seem, these small, seemingly insignificant gestures have become something of a ritual for me. Somewhere between the break and the last shot, my scattered thoughts always seem to organize themselves into a shape of their own.

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My flight leaves at 10 a.m., and despite having only decided to leave for India a week and a half prior, I am obnoxiously prepared. All pertinent travel documents have been saved offline and printed out, my passport still exists in the zippered pocket of my carry-on after the seventh double-check, and the details of my airport pick-up from New Delhi IGI have been confirmed. Regardless, the wait keeps me awake.

I recite how to ask where the bathroom is in Hindi several times, wondering if all the intel Yogi fed me about his mother country was more or less correct: Can I really get by with just English? What’s the deal with only drinking bottled water? And is the air pollution really that bad? Later, he and his wife Shivani will call, providing an additional layer of context: what markets are worth hitting up on the way (and when to negotiate a fair price), how to stay safe in a taxicab, who to call if I need help.

The message is clear — I’m a solo female traveler heading into a country with a Level 3 Travel Advisory — but there is a warmth in their voices that reminds me fear is not the intended destination. My imagination, having never known ordinary parameters, blooms at the thought that this feels less like a trip and more like a defection: not from a country, exactly, but from the life I had been living for the past six months.

After the Colorado Trail, I’d thrown myself headfirst back into my work, no longer convinced I’d need to come back up for air.

Thru-hiking had proven to me that I was capable of far more than I had given myself credit for. The debris of other people’s opinions — about what I should do with my life, how I should present myself, and the priorities I should be adopting moving into my thirties — had begun to erode, and there was no stopping the evolution taking place inside me. No going back from the knowledge I’d unearthed while in the backcountry.

But what to do with that knowledge? Up until just last year, I had been putting my all into the rat race of conventional goals (albeit at a crawl). If asked what I wanted out of life at that time, the answer would have been simple, mundane: someone to love, and a way to survive inside the cage I’d created for myself. The comfort of success, the distraction of wealth. The fairytale version of love.

Betrayal was (and perhaps always is) what made that old operating system collapse. Several updates have taken place since.

Besides, I’m certainly not the first to raise my white flag after suffocating under the heap of pressure modern life creates — especially when it’s met with outdated tradition. There were many conversations, held with hushed voices in the corner of some nondescript cafe or house party, that led me to this juncture. Sincere people with honest reservations about starting a life they weren’t sure they’d finish, so they created one beyond the manual. It was impossible to ignore the way my heart leapt at this beguiling periphery. I wanted in.

The buy-in was simple: set fire to fear.

But now, standing on the precipice of a life I am meant to design, I find myself oscillating between sheer, brute-force confidence and the terror that something else may come along and wipe it clean once more. Is this a practical way of life, I wonder, or just another game of survival in disguise?

It seems that no matter how many times I strike down fear, it rises again to challenge the courage I have fought so hard to keep. The pool table becomes a battlefield of my own thoughts, marred by indecision and doubt. I knock the balls around and around, holding onto the hope that, somewhere in the chaos, they will find their way home.

And, in their own time, they do. I place the cue back on the wall rack and pick up one of the heart-shaped Post-it notes near the window. On it, I write:

And press it onto the glass pane so it falls in line with the others. The same ten songs carry me back to my 10-bed hostel dorm room, and in the morning, the CTA blue line, where I’ll connect to the free Airport Transit System towards O’Hare International.

Before I leave, I run through one last checkpoint, ensuring I have everything I need to depart. All seems to be in order, but considering I’ve accidentally brought a pocketknife with me to TSA three separate times, I decide to perform my own screening, running my hands through every compartment.

My fingers brush up against something cold and squishy deep inside one of the pockets. I pull it out to inspect. During a recent Galentine’s Day event, my friend Claire had given me a stretchy little red bear with a white heart for a stomach, which I had decided to stow away in my luggage.

I wouldn’t exactly consider myself sentimental, but it seemed appropriate (and small enough) to bring. Claire’s friendship represents something sacred to me: the sanctity of sisterhood. In turn, so does this little bear. I stash it back inside, zip everything up, and head to the front desk to return my room key.

On the way out, I see a formidable yet fitting poster of a hand hovering over a red button. It reads:

GOOD LUCK HAVE FUN DON’T DIE

I snap a picture. It’s a movie poster for a film directed by Gore Verbinski, but it reminds me of the basic instructions my family and friends gave me before sending me on my way to India. Which, in turn, reminds me that they are all waiting for an update.

I pause for a moment there on the bustling city street, surrounded by my luggage, sending out a series of mixed messages from my phone:

I’ll be okay, see you soon, to my parents.

I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing, to my brother.

I’m not sure when I’ll be back, to all the loose ends and responsibilities I’ll be leaving behind.

I arrive at the airport terminal around 9 a.m. and am pleasantly surprised to find that the departure process for an international flight is not vastly different from that of a domestic one. I drop off my bright pink suitcase, clear the passport check and airport security, and just barely make it to my gate before they start calling up the line.

Air India’s plane is easily the oldest aircraft I have ever boarded, which feels appropriate for an international voyage built almost entirely out of vibes. The touchscreen on the seat in front of me is cracked beyond repair, so I can’t read the monitor, let alone use it. The seat seems damaged as well, or at the very least, not operating how it should. The speaker system overhead warbles in and out like something from a B-list horror movie.

My nervous system doesn’t really seem to register any of this as a concern, though. It’s a blip on the interface of much bigger concerns, like speedballing myself toward a country (and culture) I can’t even pretend to understand.

I look out the window and wonder what the next 48 hours will look like instead, thinking back to Yogi and Shivani’s words of wisdom:

Be very careful whose car you get into.

Don’t go out at night.

And try not to worry too much.

That is, until D.K. sits next to me.

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Before we go any further: have you ever made a decision that looked reckless from the outside but felt necessary from within? Tell me in the comments. I want to hear about the moment you knew you were leaving one life for another.

If you have been following along, you already know the point of this whole project: most people train their engine and ignore the parts that actually take the damage.

Pack weight is one of those parts.

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Here’s the core argument: load tolerance is not cardio. A pack changes posture, breathing mechanics, gait, balance, and the amount of abuse your feet and calves absorb with every step. You can be fit and still fall apart the moment you add 25 pounds. Load carriage has measurable effects on the shoulders and chest wall, and it can push people into a forward-lean posture that changes everything downstream.

The heaviest pack I’ve ever carried on trail

My ugliest carry day was 36 pounds. I weighed it at Bailey Two Bridges Lodge, old-school: weigh myself, then weigh myself with the pack, subtract, and stare into the abyss.

This was early, right before Segment 4, when I was still learning how to translate resupply research into real life. My base weight was about 16 pounds (lightweight, not ultralight), so the damage was not coming from my big gear. It was coming from consumables: too much water, too much food, too many snacks that I took comfort in because they were calorically dense and I was already wearing too thin.

A couple veteran thru-hikers giggled when I told them the number after stepping off the scale. Not in a mean way. More like: yep, you are right on schedule. Then they gave me the advice that matters most on long trails: you will figure it out, and the trail will teach you faster than YouTube ever could.

By mile 50-60 of the CT, my body felt compressed. I had hot spots on my shoulders, my hip belt was digging hard enough to bruise, and my upper back added insult to injury. This is the moment most hikers mistake for being “out of shape”.

A lot of the time it is not that. It is load tolerance.

How “ultralight” do I really need to go?

Some people will tell you pack weight is everything, and if you are not ultralight, you are doing it wrong.

I disagree.

Ultralight purity is overrated. Pack weight still matters, but so does being warm enough to sleep (without being too warm), having the proper assortment of layers, and carrying the few “comfort” items that keep your brain stable when you are living outside for weeks, and sometimes months, on end.

For a lot of hikers, a 12 to 18 pound base weight is a sweet spot: light enough to move well, real enough to keep you functional. REI’s broad guideline for a loaded backpacking pack is often cited around 20% of body weight. Use it as a baseline if you’d like, or start where you think makes the most sense - with the caveat that you should always go a little lighter than you think at first.

The problem is not that you are not ultralight. The problem is when you have never trained your tissues for hours under load, and you discover that gap on day two.

If you skip ruck training, your body improvises on trail.

Improvisation is how you get hot spots, numb hands, angry shins, bruised hips, and a low-grade rage at your pack straps.

Rucking is tissue tolerance training. Shoulders, hips, feet, and core learning how to hold shape under load for hours. Load carriage can literally reduce sensation and blood flow in the upper limbs with relatively modest loads and short durations, and it can restrict the chest wall enough to make breathing feel harder.

Where pack weight hides (even when you swear you packed light)

On my CT, I kept cutting weight as I went. I left genuinely good, sometimes expensive gear in hiker boxes because I simply could not justify carrying it anymore.

My favorite example of trail karma: I picked up a portable battery in a hostel hiker box in Salida and got excited like I had found buried treasure. Goldfinch laughed out loud and told me it was his. He put it there that morning. That is the thru-hiker version of a wellness check.

Also: town clothes. Many hostels keep a whole wardrobe of donated clothes you can borrow while you do laundry. That matters because it means you do not need to carry a full extra town outfit “just in case.” Most hikers can get away with one functional clothing system and let towns do what towns are for.

From your gear list, the weight creep almost always comes from a few buckets:

• Extra water (the easiest way to accidentally add 4 to 8 pounds fast)

• Duplicate clothing (extra pants, extra shirt, extra “sleep outfit” that is really just anxiety)

• Hygiene extras (full-size anything, too many wipes, too much “what if”)

• Electronics (extra batteries, extra cords, backup backups)

• Organization bulk (too many bags, too many containers, too many hard cases)

The fix is not suffering. The fix is clarity: what must be carried every day, what can be bought in town, what can be borrowed, what can be mailed, and what is just fear wearing a Patagonia label.

Pack fit: the part people avoid because it is annoying

If your pack hurts at mile 3, it will be violent at mile 12.

A simple fit checklist, in human language:

• Hip belt rides on top of your hip bones (iliac crest), snug but not pinching.

• Shoulder straps wrap your shoulders but do not carry significant weight.

• Load lifters angle back roughly around 45 degrees, tensioned snug, not cranked.

• Sternum strap sits comfortably across the chest; overtightening can restrict breathing and distort the harness.

This is exactly what I learned the hard way: I did not understand the load lifter and shoulder strap relationship at first. I also had days where my sternum strap was subtly too tight, and I did not notice until a few miles in. Then I loosened it and felt immediate relief, like my lungs got their lease back. REI explicitly warns people not to overtighten the sternum strap because it can constrict and affect breathing.

If you get numb hands, shoulder hot spots, or bruised hips, treat it as information, not as something to power through. Overloaded packs are associated with posture changes and symptoms like tingling or numbness.

Ruck training: the hiking plan to match your current system

Rucking is not a substitute for hiking. It is the bridge between gym fitness and trail fitness.

Start light, then earn heavy

A conservative baseline I can stand behind:

• Start around 10% of bodyweight if you are new to load, then build gradually.

• For backpacking, broader guidelines often land closer to 20% of bodyweight for a loaded pack, but that is context-dependent.

• If you have not been exercising regularly, start with regular walking first, then add the backpack.

Progress weight OR time, not both in the same week

Pick one lever at a time:

• Either keep the load steady and go a bit longer, faster, or hillier, or

• Keep the route steady and add a small amount of weight.

UCLA Health describes this exact concept as a strategy: keep the weight the same but increase distance or intensity, and build gradually.

Two rucks per week max at first

If you are already training strength and doing other hiking-specific work, start with once or twice a week and let tissues adapt. UW Medicine’s guidance is straightforward: don’t jump to rucking daily, start once or twice a week and build up.

What to do on those rucks

You do not need a complicated plan. You need repeatable exposure.

Ruck A (quality, shorter):

• 30 to 45 minutes

• Moderate incline if possible

• Focus: posture, steady breathing, no strap pain

Ruck B (longer, easier):

• 60 to 90 minutes

• Flatter or rolling terrain

• Focus: feet and hips tolerance, consistent pacing

And yes, stairs and treadmill incline absolutely count. I used both, plus weekend hikes, and the boring consistency paid off. I did not have major posture collapse on the CT, and I am confident that baseline strength and structural integrity is a huge reason I stayed uninjured.

Pack organization is a science

I learned that if anything was out of place in my pack, I could feel it. Like Princess and the Pea, except the pea is a fuel canister sitting one inch too far left.

At some point mid-hike, I realized my pack routine had become ritual: the same order, the same locations, the same nightly layout in my tent. I had grown a fond dislike of rummaging. It wastes time, makes gear dirty, and turns simple tasks into chaos. A stable pack carries better. A stable brain hikes better.

Water: the easiest way to ruin your day

I packed my fears in water on the CT. Early trail, I carried 3-4 liters in conditions that did not require it. Later in the hike, I trusted the trail and my decision-making more. In many typical Colorado Trail conditions (not extreme heat, not a major dry stretch), I could comfortably do about 1 to 1.5 liters per 15 miles. That is my personal data point, not a universal rule.

On the CDT, on parts of the PCT, and even on the AT during brutal heat waves, your water math changes. But the principle stays the same: carry what you need, not what you fear.

The “rest trick” that made me adore my pack

When I needed a real break, I would set my pack against a tree and kind of nestle into the frame while it braced me upright. It was weirdly awesome; 10/10, highly recommend.

Where this fits in the bigger series

If you want to make this useful, reply in the comments with two numbers: your current base weight estimate and your heaviest expected water carry:

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If this section feels overwhelming, take that as a signal. You can self-run this, or you can get it periodized for you.

Next Up

Next up: Recovery While Moving / Fatigue Management. This is where you stop thinking of recovery as something you do in town, and start treating it as something you do all day, every day, while still putting miles behind you.

Until next time, go with love.

— Freda

If you missed the previous demand, jump back to balance and reaction time on uneven terrain so you don’t skip an important part of the formula.

Now we go higher.

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And if you missed the last one, the downhill problem comes first for a reason.

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Downhill is where hikers learn humility.

The a…

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There is a specific kind of gym confidence that evaporates the moment you step onto a real trail with a real pack and a real timeline. It usually happens somewhere between the first long climb and the first real descent.

Your lungs feel fine, your heart rate is manageable, and your brain tries to declare victory early… then your quads start barking on t…

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The path is a singular loop, the terrain a mess of gravel, sticks and cobblestones. Seasons tend to either mute or fortify any savory color and life, but the scenery remains much the same. It’s the life I used to know, and it doesn’t fit anymore — it’s no longer comfortable or easy — yet I’ve slipped into it all the same.

As it stands, I have been running that track for the past two months (since my last update on Type Two Fun). Now, it’s time to bench myself and pour into what that’s been like. I apologize to those who subscribed expecting weekly newsletters about outdoor recreation; it turns out, I am still trying to eke out a life for myself that encompasses and reflects everything I am passionate about. I’m not there yet, and at least for right now, I want to share the struggles I’ve had trying to get there.

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In the next entry, I will get back to writing about the Colorado Trail. If you’d prefer to hear about thru-hiking only, I recorded an episode earlier this month with the Adventure Sports Podcast that I’m sure you will love! Give it a listen below.

To those who are still with me, thank you for your patience. I write for you.

In the beginning of October, I drove down to Tampa (from Michigan) and singlehandedly loaded up a U-Haul with all the furniture from my storage unit, drove it to the city dump, and threw away nearly everything to my name.

I tried to give most of it away, but in reality, free things don’t seem to inspire the same amount of material lust as things that cost money, so instead I watched a massive truck with steel wheels covered in spiked teeth compact everything I had once used to create a sense of “home” into a few cubic feet of wood, metal, and plastic. It was the final nail in the coffin of my love affair with Florida, one that had started nearly five years ago. I was no longer bonded, be it by trauma or Ikea bookshelves, to this physical space. The relief was immediate.

When I wasn’t actively removing all trace of me from Tampa, the place I used to call home, I found myself slipping back into a past version of myself pretty quickly. I revisited the community garden I used to volunteer for to help them battle the never-ending scourge of weeds. I had one more Lucky Charms iced matcha with the people I used to call family, those with me through thick and thin. In the early morning hours, my brother and I took the boards out to Fort De Soto and paddled around as dolphins and cormorants followed closely by.

My mind always jumps to the cormorants first, with their slick black silhouettes vying for sustenance. They work together to hunt, then fight without hesitation wherever bounty is found.

Back in April of this year, I’d fled Tampa after finding out the man I was in love with (and living with) had been unfaithful. It was a sordid affair, to be sure, but I ran from that life with giddiness and glee; I recall laughing in his face when I found out, because in that singular shattering moment, it was as if all the feelings I had left over for him had been exorcised from me, and I could be free once more. No longer did I need to worry about the profundities that lie in being tethered to this man for the rest of my life; I didn’t feel the insatiable need to iron out our inconsistent plotline anymore. Our story was over, the final chapter complete.

Now, eight months later, I’m realizing that there are still many things I need to process and heal from.

Walking the Colorado Trail helped me take pause and clearly see, through my own lens, what I wanted from this little plot of life I’d been given. After moving back into my family’s house the same month I turned thirty, I had a big hankering for drastic change, and I felt I had the resources at my disposal to execute on it.

I bought the seeds, I tended the soil.

I measured my own faith against the odds and swelled with gratitude and pride when my soul yelled back “to hell with the odds”.

Then I planted with abandon, intent on never looking back or remaining in the present moment for too long.

When I got back to Michigan, I set out to find a full-time job; one that would help me save as much money as possible before moving to Colorado. I landed on a fine dining gig thirty miles away from my family’s quaint country home, a downtown staple I felt I could bet the next several months on. Despite my ability to adapt to various workplace environments, however, I have felt as if I’m standing on the cliff’s edge of my own being since I started there.

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I wake up from the perfect sleep, my body refreshed. Peeking through the no-see-um netting of my tent’s open vestibule, I find the massive trunk of the Ponderosa pine still looming above.

Lost? Catch up with the trail here…

Type Two Fun

Segment 1.5: CT Mentors, Big Ramhorns, & A Literal Meltdown

[ Day #: 1 | Total Miles Hiked: 6 | Miles Remaining: 485 …

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8 months ago · 3 likes · Freda Heights

Morning dew dresses the pine needles and wild grasses nearby, seeping i…

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If you didn’t catch the most recent update, this is where we started:

At around 3 p.m., I stop on the side of the trail to drink some water, eat a snack, and record a quick video. I’m already struggling; it’s beyond sunny, dry, and the elevation has given way. After only 2 1/2 hours and 6 miles, i…

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It’s August 12th, 2025.

Waking up at 3:30am in a hostel — and respectfully extracting oneself from a full dorm room without waking a soul — is an artform I am just beginning to hone. Thankfully, my anxious mind gets the best of me, and I wake up a few minutes before my alarm is set to go off. I pe…

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My second alarm, 3:31, came quicker. Usually I give myself a ten-minute delay in between, but this time was different.

Even in my sleep-fogged brain, I understood the signal: no time to waste. My subconscious searched through the mist for a reason to lock in until ultimately, it landed with a somersault, and I zapped out of …

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In the first installment of this series, we peeled back the curtain on what it actually feels like to hike solo as a woman. We rifled through key aspects of the mental game, emotional unraveling, and power in reclaiming our stories, one switchback at a time. Now, we’re getting down to brass tacks: the gritty, glorious, and sometimes gross realities of lady logistics on trail.

This is the no-fluff, full-truth guide to managing your health, your gear, and your resilience when you’re out there alone. Whether you're bleeding, bloated, or battling a UTI at 10,000 feet, you are not the only one. And you’re definitely not the first.

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This part of the journey is where practicality meets empowerment. From packing a “just for me” luxury item to digging a cathole in the rain with cramps, this is where trail baddies are born. Welcome to the Sisterhood of the Traveling Baddies: where every step forward is a declaration that you belong in the wild.

Let’s get into it!

The “Lady Business”: Menstrual Health and Hygiene on Trail

One of the most common questions women ask is the pragmatic: “What do I do about my period out there?”. The thought of managing menstruation without bathrooms can be intimidating, but with some preparation it’s totally manageable.

As thru-hiker Allison “Bandit” wryly states, “The bloody truth about getting your period while backpacking? It sucks… now take away flushing toilets, sinks, showers… Piece of cake.”

Her tongue-in-cheek tone tells the real story: it’s not fun, but women handle it on trail all the time – and you can too. “Anyone who has gone through menses in any type of wilderness environment deserves five gold stars and a trophy just for existing,” Allison jokes. In other words, give yourself credit – it’s a challenge, but nothing you can’t overcome with a bit of strategy.

Plan ahead for your “period kit.” Many experienced hikers swear by the menstrual cup (e.g. Diva Cup, MoonCup) as a game-changer for backpacking. Cups are reusable, need to be emptied only every 8-12 hours, and eliminate the waste (and weight) of packing out used tampons/pads. If you go the cup route, practice using it at home before the hike – there’s a learning curve, but “you’ll thank me,” promises Allison. Another benefit: you won’t need to hunt for your preferred tampon brand in tiny trail-town stores.

That said, use whatever method you’re most comfortable with, whether it’s tampons, pads, a cup, or period underwear. Tampons and pads are perfectly fine on a thru-hike – just remember the Leave No Trace rule: pack it in, pack it out. Carry a dedicated zip-top bag (opaque or duct-taped for discretion) to store used products until you can throw them away in town. A pro tip from the trail: an empty Pringles can or a duct-taped bag can hide the “bag of bloody tampons” so you don’t have to visually confront it each day. If you use disposable products, bring a few more than you think you’ll need (cycles can be unpredictable under the physical stress of hiking). Also pack some unscented wipes or a small bottle of water for cleaning up; many hikers bury fluid waste in a cathole when emptying a cup, for example. Hand sanitizer is a must in your toiletry kit for general hygiene, especially before and after handling any menstrual products.

Some women choose a different approach: skip your period entirely during the hike. Extended intense exercise often makes menstruation lighter or irregular, but there’s no guarantee you won’t bleed on trail. To play it safe, a number of thru-hikers use birth control pills continuously (skipping the placebo week) or opt for a hormonal IUD to suppress menstruation during their big hike. Hiker “Nala,” for example, decided “Aunt Flo is not invited to join my tramily this year” and continuously took birth control to avoid periods on her thru-hike. This can be a convenient solution if it works for your body – just consult with your doctor and test how your body reacts well before you hit the trail. And remember, nothing is 100% – even with hormonal help, you should carry some backup pads or liners, because the mountains love surprises.

Beyond menstruation, general hygiene on a long trek just takes a bit of adaptation. You’ll be sweating, going days without a real shower, and yes, you’ll feel dirty sometimes – but so will everyone else! To stay healthy, focus on a few key things: keep your hands clean (carry hand sanitizer and use it often), practice good bathroom hygiene (dig proper catholes for waste, and pack out your toilet paper or use natural alternatives), and take care of any areas prone to infection or chafing. Many women bring along a pee rag or pee cloth – a dedicated bandana or quick-dry cloth to wipe after urinating, which can prevent UTIs and eliminate the need to carry tons of toilet paper. (Pro tip: clip the pee cloth to your pack to dry in the sun – UV rays help sanitize it.) Hiker blogs also recommend packing a few yeast infection pills, UTI antibiotics, or other personal medications just in case, since the combo of sweat, synthetic clothing, and disrupted routines can sometimes trigger these issues on a long hike.

Above all, don’t be embarrassed to address “women’s issues” on trail. Plenty of female hikers swap tips for dealing with it – you might be surprised how openly topics like cramps or menstrual mishaps are discussed around the campfire. One hiker suggests finding a “trail sister” you can commiserate with: “Buddy up with another hiker who gets it and just let those hormones flow…it’ll be over soon.” You might not want company when you’re bloated and cranky, but knowing another woman out there “gets it” can be a huge morale boost. And rest assured, every woman who has backpacked through her period will tell you: if we can do it, so can you. Come prepared, then embrace the fact that it might be messy and uncomfortable for a few days – but it’s just one more challenge you’re strong enough to handle.

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Gear: 7 Must-Know Tips for the Solo Female Hiker

When it comes to gear, there are sworn-by cottage companies and equipment brands that nearly all thru-hikers tend towards. That said, there are a few special considerations and hacks that experienced female hikers in particular swear by:

1. Backpack fit: Many packs are available in women’s models, which typically accommodate shorter torsos, narrower shoulders, and curved hips for a better fit. The right fit is crucial for comfort on a 2,000-mile trek. Try on packs with weight in them and don’t hesitate to choose the “men’s” version if it fits you better. Aim to keep your base weight (gear not including food/water) in a manageable range – around 20% of your body weight or less – but don’t sacrifice too much comfort or safety just to shave ounces.

2. Sleep system: Women tend to sleep colder than men, so a warm sleeping bag or quilt is important. Many women-specific sleeping bags have extra insulation, especially around the feet and torso. If you’re tall or don’t like the fit of women’s bags, size up in a unisex bag but consider a bag rated a bit warmer than the lowest temps you expect. A sleeping pad with a high R-value (insulation) can also make a big difference for warmth. Test your sleep setup before your thru-hike – being cold every night is miserable, and something you can often prevent by tweaking gear.

3. Hydration & hygiene gadgets: One item frequently recommended by female hikers is a pee cloth (as mentioned earlier) or a lightweight trowel for digging catholes when nature calls. Some women also like using a pee funnel (like a She-Wee or GoGirl) so they can urinate standing up and with less hassle – this is personal preference, but worth trying at home to see if it makes life easier for you. And everyone needs a water purification method, but no matter which you choose (filter, chemical tablets, UV pen), make sure you’re comfortable using it solo. Practice backflushing that Sawyer Squeeze or changing the UV lamp batteries ahead of time.

4. Personal Locator Beacon (PLB) or Satellite Messenger: As a solo hiker, consider investing in a device like the Garmin inReach Mini or SPOT beacon for emergency communication. Many thru-hikers carry these now for peace of mind – you can hit an SOS button if you have a serious emergency, and some devices allow two-way texting so you’re never completely out of reach. It’s an extra safety net well worth considering for solo adventurers.

5. Trekking poles: Not a women-specific item per se, but a must-have for many hikers – they improve balance and reduce strain on downhill knees. If you’re new to using poles, give them a try on training hikes; they can also double as tent poles for some ultralight shelters.

6. Clothing hacks: Lots of women sport braids/buns on a long hike or even cut their hair short – easier maintenance and fewer tangles. Some hike commando (no underwear) to reduce moisture and chafing, especially under leggings or shorts. Others prefer breathable quick-dry undies. One veteran advises hiking in a dress or hiking skirt for ventilation and easy pit stops – “Every woman’s gear list could use some cute clothing pieces, and I much prefer hiking in dresses for so many reasons,” she says. Try different options: you might be surprised that a lightweight skirt is both practical and fun (you get to feel a bit more you, not just a hiker in uniform). Just make sure whatever you wear won’t cause chafing after hours of walking – Body Glide or similar anti-chafe balm is a lifesaver for many, especially for thighs and sports-bra lines.

7. “Just for me” items: Finally, don’t shy away from packing a couple of small luxury or personal items that can hugely boost morale. Whether it’s a notebook, a tiny vial of your favorite essential oil, or a lightweight personal vibrator (hey, it’s on some gear lists!), bring what you need to stay sane out there. One solo hiker included a 3.5-ounce “stress relief” device on her trek – proving that self-care in the wilderness can take many forms! You’ll be out there for weeks or months; a little treat that’s just for you can make a tough day so much better. Do keep it small though – you’ve got to carry it the whole way.

Remember, there is no one-size-fits-all gear solution for anyone. Part of the thru-hiking journey is dialing in what works best for you. Do shakedown hikes to test your gear, read blogs by other female hikers for ideas, and don’t worry if your kit looks different from someone else’s. As long as you have the essentials – shelter, weather-appropriate layers, navigation, first aid, food, and water – the rest is tweaking comfort and convenience. With time, you’ll refine your gear preferences and carry only what truly serves you on the trail.

Mental Resilience: Solitude, Struggles, and Strength

Thru-hiking isn’t just a physical test – it’s a mental and emotional journey as well. Solo hiking can swing from glorious freedom to bouts of loneliness or self-doubt, sometimes in the same day. Building your emotional resilience is key to thriving on a long trail. The good news is the trail itself will toughen you up in this regard, mile by mile. But it helps to go in with realistic expectations: there will be incredible highs – and there will be days you want to quit, when you’re cold, wet, tired, and missing home. This is normal. Almost every long-distance hiker, male or female, goes through low moments out there.

To cope, draw on the “why” that inspired you to do this hike. Perhaps you crave the confidence that comes from self-reliance, or you’re seeking healing or a fresh start. Solo adventurer Renee Hahnel (aka “Renee Roaming”) notes that one of the greatest rewards of solo backpacking is the sense of “empowerment and accomplishment” it brings: “It will prove to you just how brave, strong, and capable you truly are.” On the hard days, remember that why. Remind yourself, “I chose this, and I’m stronger than I think.” Some hikers even carry a few motivational quotes or a letter to themselves to read when morale dips.

Loneliness is a common fear before a solo hike, but many are surprised by how they come to appreciate – even cherish – the solitude. Embrace the positives of being alone: journal by that alpine lake, sing out loud on the ridgeline, revel in having total freedom in your day. As Renee says, there’s nothing quite like sitting in silence with nature – experiences we rarely get in our hyper-connected daily lives. That said, if you’re an extrovert or simply hit a point where you need company, don’t be afraid to seek it out (more on trail community in a moment). Many solo hikers strike a balance – hiking alone during the day for peace and reflection, then camping near others or teaming up occasionally when they crave conversation. It’s your hike; you can tailor the social vs. solo mix as you go.

Fear management is another mental skill you’ll develop. It is absolutely okay (and smart) to admit you’re nervous about going solo.

“I wanted to try solo backpacking for a long time before I actually gathered up the courage to do it,” Renee shares. “It’s totally okay if it takes you a little while to feel brave enough to get out there on your own.”

You can build confidence through small steps: do a solo day hike first, or camp solo in your backyard or a local park before the thru-hike. Renee suggests a “pseudo solo” trip – hike with a friend but stay independent (camp separately nearby, carry all your own gear) to get a feel for being on your own while having a safety net. Each little taste of solo adventure will expand your comfort zone.

When on trail, take it day by day. It’s normal to have twinges of anxiety, especially at night or in unfamiliar terrain. Many women report the first night alone is the hardest; after that, you realize you can do this. You start trusting your routines and wilderness skills. If anxiety flares – say, you hear a strange noise outside your tent at 2AM – run through logical steps (is it likely just a raccoon? can I use my light/voice to startle anything away?) and remind yourself that hundreds of women before you have successfully done this. You are not the first, and you won’t be the last – you’re carrying the torch for all the future women who will look to your example.

It’s also important to acknowledge that post-trail blues can hit after the hike ends. It might seem odd to think about the finish when you’re just starting, but it’s worth knowing that many thru-hikers experience a sort of emotional hangover when they return to “normal” life. Heather “Anish” Anderson – a legend who’s completed 15+ long trails – has spoken openly about this:

After months of pure freedom, fresh air, and a simple mission each day, re-entry to regular life can be jarring. If you feel a bit lost or down when your hike is over, know that it’s normal – even Heather still experiences it. Have a support plan for post-trail: keep in touch with trail friends, set a new goal to channel your energy, or simply give yourself grace and time to adjust. As Heather emphasizes, we should talk about this aspect as a hiking community so no one feels alone in it. The trail changes you, and that’s a wonderful thing – just be prepared for the emotions that may come with accomplishing your dream.

Throughout your hike, practice self-compassion. Some days you’ll crush 20 miles and feel on top of the world; other days, you might crawl into your tent early, utterly spent and emotionally raw. Both are okay.

“The journey doesn’t end at the terminus,” Heather says. “Learning how to create space for the grief (of ending) while cherishing the memories is crucial… If you feel alone, you are not – find your tramily or other thru-hikers you respect and talk to them about it… I guarantee they have felt it too.”

In short: you are tougher than you think, but you’re also human. Solo hiking will test your mettle, but it will also show you new reserves of strength, resilience, and faith in yourself that you never knew you had.

Cheers to Trail Sisterhood

Thousands of women have successfully navigated the trails before you and I, each overcoming their doubts and fears. Remember: you are brave, strong, and more capable than you realize. Hiking solo as a woman is empowering, transformative, and profoundly rewarding. Step confidently onto your next path, and I assure you the trail sisterhood will be cheering you on.

📍 Inspired by this journey and want to support more adventures? Every contribution helps - support my upcoming thru-hike and buy me a ramen!

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Resupply planning is a crucial part of thru-hike logistics. It’s the answer to that burning question every beginner asks: “Where do I get my next batch of food, and how do I send myself stuff on trail?”

If you’re new to long-distance hiking, this whole resupply thing can sound a bit overwhelming. (I’m literally neck-deep in it right now, prepping for my first big solo thru-hike in August – picture me surrounded by a mountain of ramen packets, protein bars, and post-it notes with town names.) The good news is, with a little strategy, resupply becomes a much smoother, almost routine part of your adventure.

Let’s break down how to plan your resupply like a pro, in a way that keeps both your stomach and your sanity sound.

Know Your Trail Towns and Distances

First up: do your homework on where you can actually resupply along the trail. Before you even set foot on the trail, spend some quality time with maps, guidebooks, and apps plotting out the towns or outposts you’ll pass. Every trail is different. On the Appalachian Trail (AT), civilization is never too far – you can often stumble into a store every 3–5 days if you plan it right. The Pacific Crest Trail (PCT) or Continental Divide Trail (CDT), on the other hand, have some gnarly remote stretches (100+ mile wilderness segments where the only “store” might be your own backpack).

Use trusted guides and apps (FarOut, AWOL Guide, Yogi’s Handbook, etc.) to figure out where the trail crosses a road and what towns or facilities are nearby. Mark those spots on your map or spreadsheet along with the mile marker.

Know your distances: if you see two towns are 70 miles apart and you typically hike ~15 miles a day, that’s about 5 days of food you’ll need for that section (I always tack on one extra day of snacks just in case something throws me off schedule).

On a shorter trail like the Colorado Trail (~485 miles), for example, many hikers plan resupplies roughly every 4–6 days. Plotting it out this way gives a clear picture of how many days of food to pack between each town.

The goal here is to never have to hike hungry because you miscalculated the gap to the next store. Better to carry a bit more food weight than to run out of snacks a day short of town (hiker nightmare fuel, right there).

Mail Drops vs. Buying as You Go

When it comes to actually getting your food, there are two classic approaches: mail yourself packages ahead of time, or buy food locally as you go. Most of us do a little of both. Each method has its perks and pitfalls, so let’s lay it out:

• Mail Drops (Sending Boxes Ahead): You prep boxes of food before your hike and mail them to post offices, hostels, or friendly trail angels along the route.

  • Pros: You get to curate every calorie – great if you have dietary needs or just really love your Aunt Marge’s homemade jerky. It can be cheaper overall since you can buy in bulk at Costco and divvy it up (also, no sticker shock from tiny mountain-town grocery prices). Plus, in really remote spots with maybe only a gas station store, you’ll have exactly what you need waiting for you.

  • Cons: Less flexibility. You’re committing to meals weeks (or months) in advance… tricky if you suddenly cannot face another packet of oatmeal by Week 6. You also have to time it right to pick up during post office hours (nothing worse than rolling into town on a Saturday afternoon to find the post office closed until Monday). And let’s not forget those shipping costs and the mild absurdity of paying postage to mail yourself instant rice and Clif bars across the country.

• Buy As You Go (Resupply Locally): This is the freestyle approach – roll into town, hit the local grocery or outfitter, and buy whatever food looks good in the moment.

  • Pros: Ultimate flexibility. Craving pickles and ice cream by the time you hit town? You can satisfy it immediately. You only carry what you decided you wanted that very week. It’s also fun and supports local businesses; you get to explore every quirky small-town store (there will be plenty of old general stores with personality).

  • Cons: Selection can be extremely limited and prices high. We’re talking $8 for a mediocre dehydrated meal in some outposts, or stores where dinner options boil down to canned chili, Pop-Tarts, and maybe an onion. If you have any special diet needs (vegan, gluten-free, etc.), the one gas station in Nowheresville might not have your preferred fuel. So you could end up surviving on potato chips and candy if you’re not careful. Also, shopping while ravenous is dangerous to your wallet – everything looks delicious when you’ve been hiking hungry. (Pro tip: try to get a snack or meal before hitting the store so you don’t buy three times what you actually need. Hiker hunger is real, y’all.)

Many hikers find a happy hybrid strategy: mail yourself boxes to a few key remote locations where stores are nonexistent or lousy, and buy-as-you-go in trail towns that have decent supermarkets. If you’re a fan of meal-prepping, prepare to save even more money!

here’s a good rule of thumb: if a stop has no grocery or only a sketchy mini-mart, plan a mail drop there. If the town has a real grocery store (or better yet, a Walmart or large supermarket), save your postage and just resupply on arrival. This way, you ensure you’re covered when options are slim, but you still get spontaneity (and fresh avocados, if you’re lucky) elsewhere. It’s all about balancing cost and convenience: mailing in bulk can save some cash per meal, but don’t forget you’ll pay for shipping those boxes and maybe a fee if you send to a hostel. Meanwhile, buying along the way might cost a bit more day-to-day (small stores can be pricey), but you won’t overspend upfront on a ton of food that you might not even eat.

For the budget conscious, here are a few more things to keep in mind when mailing resupply boxes:

• Buy labels online through a shipping aggregator (Pirate Ship, Shippo, EasyPost): You’ll save 10-25 % on UPS Ground—the platforms pass through negotiated commercial rates. UPS often undercuts FedEx by a couple bucks.

• Lock in dimensional weight: Measure the box and keep the girth small. Anything over 1 cu ft gets billed like an 11-lb package instead of 6 lb. Slice flaps off; use “book fold” if needed.

• Ship mid-week and schedule free pickup. Dropping on Tuesday-Thursday avoids Monday lobby lines and any Friday “additional handling” rush fee some UPS Stores tack on.

• Skip extra insurance. UPS/FedEx cover $100 by default. Your ramen and gummies aren’t worth an up-charge.

• Consolidate to fewer, heavier boxes. Two 6-lb Ground boxes (≈$70 total) nearly always cost more than one 12-lb box (≈$41).

• Send bounce boxes only to the toughest gaps. Buy fresh food in towns where the grocery there is cheaper than shipping tuna packs. Reserve mailed drops for genuinely remote stretches.

Personally, I’m planning to mail myself some of my favorite homemade dehydrated dinners to a couple of remote spots (because I know I’ll want real veggies and my special curry noodles out there). For everywhere else, I’ll wing it with local shopping, even if it means paying a few extra bucks or getting creative with whatever the store shelves offer. Budget-wise, it tends to even out, but if you want more detailed money talk on thru-hiking, check out this blog:

Leverage Your Planning Tools (Miles, Meals, and Spreadsheets)

So, there’s a bit of math involved in resupply planning. Before you flash back to high school algebra, know that there are awesome tools and tricks to make it easier. Resources like Craig’s PCT Planner, the FarOut app, or good old Google Sheets can help you estimate how many days are likely between your resupply points.

Essentially, if you know the next town is 70 miles away and you typically hike ~15 miles a day, you’d plan for about 5 days of food. Always, always throw in an extra emergency day of food if the stretch is long or terrain is tough – stuff happens. Maybe you get injured and have to slow down, maybe a lightning storm forces you to hunker down and stop early one day. You’ll never regret having one more packet of noodles or an extra Snickers bar for “just in case.”

Take advantage of planning tools to crunch the numbers for you – input your pace, the distance, and it will spit out an estimate of days. Or create a spreadsheet listing each leg of your hike with the start and end points (Trailhead to Town X, Town X to Town Y, etc.), the mileage, your expected miles per day, and voila: you have a resupply schedule. You don’t need to be meticulous (in fact, expect to tweak this on the fly), but having a ballpark plan is key.

As you go, you might hike faster or slower than expected, so those estimates will shift. That’s okay! The plan isn’t carved in stone; it’s just giving you a roadmap so you’re not playing calorie roulette in the wilderness.

The “Bounce Box” (Your Traveling Treasure Chest) – Optional

Ever wish you could have a magic stash of goodies that follows you up the trail? That’s basically the idea of a bounce box. This is an optional resupply trick some hikers use: you fill a box with items you’ll need eventually but not all at once, and you mail it from town to town ahead of yourself as you hike. It’s like leap-frogging your own supplies. For example, maybe you have specialized items like vitamins, extra toiletries, backup charger batteries, or those amazing home-dried mango slices you don’t want to carry 500 miles at a time. You can put them in a box and send it to a town 200 miles up trail. When you arrive, you pick it up, take what you need for the next stretch (maybe grab a new tube of toothpaste, swap out your broken headlamp, or finally get those mangos), then seal it back up and mail it forward again to another town further up.

This strategy can be super handy if you’re trying to avoid carrying everything from the start, or if you know you’ll need certain gear seasonally (like a thicker jacket for the Sierra Nevada, or your microspikes once you hit the Colorado high country).

Beware, though: postage costs can add up each time you bounce the box, and you’ll have to coordinate pickup just like any mail drop. Some hikers love their bounce box because it provides a safety net of supplies and a bit of home comfort in each town. Others skip it because it can be a hassle or expense they don’t need. It’s totally a personal choice – weigh the cost vs. the joy of having that jar of peanut butter or extra batteries waiting for you every few weeks. If you do use one, try to keep the box light and filled with useful stuff (heavy or cheap items might be easier to just buy as needed instead of mailing over and over). Think of it as your traveling pantry/gear closet that you can dip into along the journey.

Stay Flexible and Adapt on the Fly

Now for maybe the most important piece of advice: even the best resupply plan will hit some bumps. And that’s okay! Flexibility is the name of the game in thru-hiking, and resupply is no exception. Maybe you roll into a town only to find the lone grocery store closed for a local holiday (it happens). Maybe you planned for 5 days of hiking but the section was tougher than expected and it’s going to take 6. Or perhaps by month two on trail, you cannot stomach the thought of another protein bar and you’d trade your trekking poles for a fresh apple. The key is to adapt and not panic.

You can always adjust as you go. In a pinch, you might find an unexpected side exit to a highway and hitchhike into an earlier town if truly necessary (safety first – only if it’s a safe option and you’re comfortable; solo hikers, always trust your gut and check out our guide on Solo Female Thru-Hiking: Sisterhood of the Traveling Baddies for staying safe and confident out there). You can also get creative: maybe you overbought food in the last town (those 12 packs of Pop-Tarts seemed like a great idea at the time...). If your next leg is shorter, you could mail some of that surplus ahead to yourself at the following town, effectively turning your oversupply into a mini mail drop rather than lugging it all on your back.

Hiker boxes – communal bins where travelers toss unwanted food/gear – are another wildcard. You might swap out your extra oatmeal packets for someone else’s spare mashed potatoes, keeping your menu interesting.

The point is, stay flexible and resourceful. A resupply plan is not a rigid contract; it’s a living, breathing framework. The trail loves to throw curveballs, but with a little flexibility, you’ll catch ’em and carry on. By the end of your trek, you’ll feel like a resupply ninja, effortlessly adjusting on the fly.

Quick Logistics Tips for Resupply Stops

To wrap up, here are a few rapid-fire tips that can make each resupply stop efficient and even enjoyable:

• Have a Game Plan for Town: Before you stroll into a trail town with mud on your boots and dollar signs in your eyes, know what you need to accomplish. Typically my routine goes:

  • 1) Get some real food first. (Trust me, attempting a grocery run on an empty, calorie-deprived stomach is a recipe for overspending and ending up with five cans of Pringles and no actual dinner food.)

  • 2) Sort out your resupply. If you mailed yourself a box, go pick it up pronto and sift through it (bonus points if you mailed it to your hostel). If you’re shopping local, hit the store with a list (mental or written) of how many breakfasts/lunches/dinners you need for the next section. Stick to the essentials first, then add treats if you have room/budget.

  • 3) Repack your food before you leave town. Ditch excess packaging, organize meals by day, and make sure it all fits in your food bag. This prevents the nightmare of discovering a mile out of town that you forgot to buy coffee or that your new jars of peanut butter don’t actually fit in your pack.

• Pre-Mark Your Maps or Notes: Before your hike (or during a zero day), jot down how many days of food you plan for each segment and where your boxes are sent. Having a little cheat-sheet in your phone or notebook saying “Neels Gap: 3 days to Hiawassee (buy in town); Kennedy Meadows: box mailed with 7 days food for Sierra section” is super helpful. It’s like leaving bread crumbs for your future self. You’ll roll into each stop already knowing “I need to buy for X days” or “I have a box here.” This reduces decision fatigue when you’re exhausted from hiking.

• Listen to Your Body (and Taste Buds): Your appetite will likely explode a few weeks in. If you find yourself consistently running out of food between towns or fantasizing about cheeseburgers 24/7, adjust your plan. Add an extra snack per day or up your daily calorie count. Conversely, if you always end up with two uneaten dinners in your bag, you can probably pack a bit less next time. Also, don’t be afraid to change up the menu as you go. That trail mix you loved in Week 1 might become utterly gag-worthy by Week 5. Swap it out, hit a different snack aisle, spice up your life.

Resupply planning might feel like a lot to chew on at first, but with practice it becomes second nature.

By the time you’re a few weeks into the hike, you’ll know exactly what and how much you need, and stops in town will be exciting instead of stressful. Embrace the process, and remember that every hiker’s strategy can be a little different – you’ll fine-tune what works best for you.

You’ve got this! With a solid resupply plan, you’ll keep your engine fueled for all those miles to come. And if you need a little extra help figuring out what to pack or how to lighten your load (because carrying six days of food is easier when your gear is dialed in), don’t miss our official lightweight backpacking gear list for tips on trimming weight without sacrificing the essentials.

Comment below: What’s your resupply style?
Are you Team Mail Drop, Team Buy-as-You-Go, or a hybrid hustler?
Got any pro tips or hilarious mishaps from the resupply rollercoaster?

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We’d love to hear your stories and questions! Happy trails and happy munching!

Embarking on a thru-hike is not just a physical challenge – it’s a financial journey too. In fact, money woes are one of the top reasons hikers end their trek early. But with a solid budget and smart planning, running out of money won’t be what stops you.

This “Adventure Finance” series will empower you to take charge of your thru-hike finances so you can make it happen. We’ll break down typical cost categories (from gear to gummy bears), lay out strategies for different hike lengths, and share creative ways to fund your adventure. By the end, you’ll have a clear plan to fund your dream trail - and a handy worksheet to build your own thru-hike budget. Let’s dive in and remove the financial fear from your solo adventure!

Gear & Equipment

Gear is oftentimes the biggest upfront expense. A full lightweight backpacking kit (pack, shelter, sleep system, etc.) can easily cost $1,000–$3,000 if bought new. In fact, many hikers can outfit themselves with quality gear for around $2,000, though ultralight enthusiasts might spend more.

The good news: you don’t have to pay retail for everything. Here are some tips to manage your gear costs:

• Take Inventory: First, see what you already own. Start a gear list on PackWizard.com and begin to build it out using what you already have in stock.

• Buy Used or on Sale: Check secondhand gear sites, local gear swaps, or online forums for gently used equipment. Thriftiness pays – a pre-loved backpack or tent can be hundreds cheaper than new. If you’re unsure where to start, check out our recent guide on buying second-hand gear.

• Prioritize Quality & Weight: It’s tempting to buy the cheapest gear, but remember that durability and weight matter on a long trail. A budget tent that leaks or a pack that causes pain can ruin your hike.

• Female-Specific Gear Needs: Solo female hikers may consider gear like a female-oriented backpack (for a better fit) or hygiene items (e.g. a Kula cloth, menstrual products) – factor these into your budget to avoid surprises.

• Budget for Replacement: Gear doesn’t last forever, especially over thousands of miles. Plan for consumable gear costs: you’ll likely destroy 3–5 pairs of trail runners on a long hike, for example. It’s wise to set aside funds for new shoes, busted trekking poles, or a replacement phone charger later (things will break out there). “Rainy day” gear money is a thru-hiker’s safety net.

By being gear-savvy – mixing new and used items, and focusing on value – you can fully outfit yourself without bankrupting your bank account. It’s entirely possible to gear up on a budget and still have reliable kit for the trail. Once you have your core gear, that expense is mostly behind you, and you can reuse equipment for future adventures.

Food & Resupply

Keeping yourself fueled is a significant ongoing expense on any hike. Think of food & resupply as the “monthly grocery bill” of your thru-hike. Budgeting for food involves two things: the meals and snacks you’ll eat on the trail and the treats and restaurant meals you’ll enjoy in town.

For on-trail food, many hikers estimate spending about $10–$15 per day on food. If you’re hiking for 100 days, that’s roughly $1,000 in trail groceries. Hiker hunger is real – as the miles add up, you’ll eat a lot more, so bump up your food budget for longer hikes. You can control costs by buying typical supermarket items (ramen, tortillas, peanut butter, etc.) which are calorie-dense and cheap. Purchasing in bulk before the hike can save money per meal, but remember you’ll have to ship those supplies (which adds cost). Mail drops – sending yourself resupply boxes – offer cost predictability but include postage fees. Meanwhile, buying food in trail towns gives flexibility but prices might be higher (small mountain town stores can be pricey and have limited options). Many hikers do a mix: mail yourself staple foods (to save money by buying in bulk) and then supplement locally as needed. If you go the mail-drop route, budget for shipping costs and potential pickup fees at hostels or post offices.

For in-town food, be realistic (and kind) with yourself. Part of the joy of a thru-hike is celebrating a tough stretch with pizza, burgers, or that giant ice cream sundae in the next town! But those restaurant bills add up quickly. Plan a “town food” budget for each stop – e.g. allow yourself one restaurant dinner and a beer, plus maybe a resupply of fresh fruit. By setting a limit (say $30-50 per town stop, depending on your tastes), you can indulge guilt-free without blowing through your cash early. Track those small purchases; a soda here and a coffee there every stop might silently siphon a lot from your funds.

Tips to Stretch Your Food Budget

Embrace simple, filling foods (oatmeal, instant rice, tuna, trail mix). Look for dollar stores or big-box supermarkets in trail towns to resupply cheaply when possible. And consider your nutrition – sometimes spending a bit more on healthier, protein-rich food can keep you strong and maybe save money on town recovery costs (like vitamins or medical needs). Bottom line: food is fuel, and you want enough of it. Budget generously here so you’re never tempted to skimp on calories to save money – that’s a false economy when you’re hiking 20 miles a day.

Travel Costs (Getting There & Back)

Unless the trail runs by your front door, you’ll have travel expenses to start and end your hike. Travel costs include transportation to the trailhead, and the trip home afterward – plus any mid-hike travel for flip-flops or breaks. This category can range from minor to major, depending on distance and mode:

• Flights: If you’re flying cross-country to hike the Pacific Crest Trail (for example), airfare might be one of your larger expenses. Book early if you can, but thru-hikes often have uncertain end dates – you might not know exactly when you’ll finish, making return tickets tricky. Consider buying one-way tickets or refundable fares for flexibility. Using airline miles or credit card points (see Travel Hacking below) can significantly cut these costs.

• Shuttles and Rental Cars: Many long trails start or end in remote areas with no public transit. Hiker shuttles, buses, or even rental cars might be needed. Research the typical costs. These can be $20, $50, sometimes $100+ for long distances. Joining up with other hikers to split a shuttle or rental car can save a lot – keep an eye on hiker forums to carpool.

• Driving: If you drive your own car to the trail, budget for gas, possible lodging on the road, and parking fees. Some hikers have a friend drop them off to avoid parking a car for months. If you do leave a vehicle, consider the cost and safety (and factor retrieval of the car at the end into your return travel plans).

• Return Trip: Don’t forget to set aside money for getting home. Many hikers finish broke and then struggle to afford a way home – let’s avoid that! Plan for a bus ticket, flight, or one-way car rental at journey’s end. Prices can be higher last-minute, so pad your return-home budget just in case (an open-ended plane ticket might be $300–$600, for example).

For solo female hikers, also think about safety/convenience versus cost. You might choose a slightly more expensive transportation option if it feels safer (e.g. a reputable shuttle driver over hitchhiking alone). That’s 100% okay – budget for your peace of mind. With planning, travel logistics will be smooth, and you can start and end your hike without financial stress.

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Lodging & Zero Days

A hot shower and a soft bed – pure bliss after weeks on the trail. Lodging on a thru-hike refers to those nights you spend in town: hostels, motels, the occasional Airbnb or friendly trail angel’s home. It also includes the cost of zero days (rest days when you don’t hike) or “nero” days (nearly zero mileage days), since usually you’re in a town spending money during those. This can become one of the largest budget categories if you’re not careful!

Typical Costs

Hostel dorm beds in trail towns might range $20–$40 per night (often with a free pancake breakfast!). Budget motels or private rooms can be $60–$100+ depending on location and season. Popular spots near national parks or during festivals can spike higher. A single zero day can easily cost over $100 when you add lodging, meals, and incidentals. Plan how many zero days you expect to take.

For example, on the Appalachian Trail (5–6 months long) a common approach is a zero every 2–3 weeks. If you estimate ~10 zero days at $100 each, that’s $1,000 in your budget. Some hikers take more; some power through with fewer – know thyself and err on the side of a few extra rest days (your body may demand it!).

Strategies to Reduce Lodging Costs:

• Share Rooms: As a solo hiker, you can team up with others to split motel costs. It’s common for hikers to throw 4 people in a cheap motel room and divide the rate.

• Stay with Trail Angels: Trail angel networks or platforms like Hostel sites, Couchsurfing, etc., sometimes offer free or donation-based stays. Always do your research and ensure it’s a safe situation. Many trail communities have legendary hostels or church bunkhouses that are very low cost (or work-for-stay). Take advantage of these when available to give your budget a break.

• Plan Town Stops Wisely: One pro tip is to hike into town early in the day and handle all your chores (shower, laundry, resupply) then hike out by evening to camp on-trail – effectively enjoying town food and services without paying for a night’s lodging. This “nero out” strategy can cut down the number of paid overnights. Of course, some nights you will want to sleep in a real bed – just try not to turn every town stop into a multi-night stay unless you’ve budgeted for it.

• Budget “Extra” Nights: Unexpected things happen – maybe you get sick and need to hole up in a motel for two days, or bad weather convinces you to zero unexpectedly. Build a cushion for a few unplanned nights indoors. Having a little extra in this category means you can handle surprises (or treat yourself to an extra rest day with less guilt).

Lodging is as luxurious or as Spartan as you make it. Some thrifty hikers hardly spend a dime on lodging (preferring to camp outside town), while others “platinum blaze” with frequent hotel stops. Decide what level of comfort keeps you healthy and happy. As a solo female, you might value the occasional secure, private room – that’s okay! Just work it into the plan. With a degree of mindfulness, you can enjoy the magic of trail town hospitality without derailing your finances.

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From Dreaming to Doing: Mastering Your Trail Budget

Planning a thru-hike means prepping for a journey that’s as financial as it is physical (and mental, but that’s for a different blog entirely). By getting a firm grasp on your gear, food, travel, and lodging budgets, you’re setting yourself up for an adventure defined by joy and freedom—not stress and penny-pinching.

In the next installment of our "Adventure Finance" series, I’ll break down budgeting strategies based on hike duration, guide you through the art of saving and creatively funding your adventure, and tackle the essentials of managing money effectively while you're out on the trail. Whether you're heading out for two weeks or six months, we’ll ensure you have the tools to budget smart, save effectively, and spend wisely on your epic trek.

Stay tuned; financial freedom on the trail is within your reach!

If you spend five minutes in the hiking corner of the internet, the algorithm will try to feed you a steady diet of disaster. One tragic story paired with a comment section full of courtroom energy. Then the same question, repeated like it is wisdom:

Women hiking alone is not reckless.

It is a matrix of deliberate planning, judgment, and the quiet skill of noticing small problems early (before they become big ones). It is also Type Two Fun in its purest form: challenging in the moment, but enormously rewarding once you realize you trusted yourself and everything turned out okay.

I thru-hiked the Colorado Trail solo last fall, and I’ve also backpacked major sections of the Appalachian Trail on my own. I have done the 20-mile long water carries where your brain starts bargaining with the next creek, and I have dealt with altitude symptoms that did not care about my confidence. I have even woken up to weird noises near my tent, so I understand the visceral fear that goes along with that experience, as well as the action plan that follows.

This guide will help you understand how to plan, navigate, and stay safe while hiking alone as a woman, without losing the joy that makes solo hiking worth doing.

Is It Safe To Hike Alone As a Woman?

The short answer: with the right precautions, absolutely. Women who hike alone can mitigate a majority of the risk involved when they plan for the most common risks: weather, terrain, navigation errors, dehydration, and human weirdness at predictable pinch points like trailheads.

The wilderness is not a crime documentary. In fact, many female thru-hikers say they feel safer deep in the wilderness than in their own hometowns.

Experienced thru-hiker “Wrong Way” echoes this sentiment:“I feel much more confident being alone on trails than I do on sidewalks. I think that most people in trail settings truly and absolutely want to see each other succeed.” The statistics back this feeling: violent incidents on long trails are exceedingly rare, and you’re far more likely to encounter danger from terrain or weather than from another person.

Here’s What Actually Increases Safety the Fastest:

• Start earlier than you think you need to

• Hike in daylight whenever possible

• Set a turnaround time in advance (if applicable), then obey it

• Download maps offline, even if you think you will have service

• Always carry a map and compass as backup for your phone’s GPS

• Before you set out, leave your route plan with someone you trust

• Choose well-traveled routes first & conduct shakedown hikes to build confidence

The Mindset That Keeps Solo Women Safe

The safest solo hikers follow one rule: listen to your gut. If a situation or person gives you bad vibes, honor that feeling. Don’t worry about being polite – “I am an advocate for being rude, standoffish, and lying to people while backpacking if needed,” writes one female thru-hiker bluntly. You don’t owe anyone your trust.

Three Mindset Rules:

• If your gut says leave, leave. No debate.

• If you are unsure, slow down and reassess.

• The bottom line: safety > niceties, every time.

With that said, don’t be afraid to make friends on trail – you can camp together or hike in loose groups when desired, and go solo when you crave solitude.

As hiker “Lady Scout” discovered on the PCT, even after her initial hiking partner left, “At a certain point on a thru-hike, the only people around you are other long-distance hikers. The community gives a sense of comfort.” On popular trails like the Appalachian Trail, you might actually have to seek solitude at times, since there are so many fellow hikers.

Pre-Hike Safety Checklist

Before you hike alone, lock in the basics: route, weather, time plan, check-in plan, navigation, and minimum survival layers. This reduces 80% of avoidable problems before you ever step on trail.

• Route: saved offline, including bailout options

• Weather: checked for your start time and your return window

• Time: turnaround time set before you start

• Check-ins: one person at home knows your plan and your return time

• Navigation: offline map app plus a backup method

• Water: enough for the conditions, plus a buffer

• Layers: insulation and rain protection even on nice days

• Light: headlamp always

• Food: extra calories beyond the plan

If you are undertrained, you will make more bad decisions. Fitness is a safety factor.

Route and Timing: How to Reduce Risk Fast

The easiest way to reduce risk is to be picky about where and when you hike alone.

Popular trails are not a failure. They are a training ground.

When I was building confidence hiking solo, I chose routes with predictable terrain and steady traffic. I saved remote, exposed routes for days when my judgment felt sharp and the weather window was generous.

Best practices:

• Start earlier than you think you need to, especially in mountains

• Pick popular trails for your first solo hikes

• Avoid late-night returns to empty parking lots

• Plan a conservative turnaround time, then obey it

• In summer mountain ranges, assume afternoon storms and schedule around them

Trailhead Safety: Where Awareness Counts Most

Uncomfortable encounters are usually distilled down to trailheads, not deep in the backcountry. Trailheads concentrate strangers, vehicles, and uncertainty. Your job is to look prepared, limit your exposure, and leave a clean footprint of information with someone you trust.

Trailhead protocol:

• Arrive in daylight when possible

• Keep your keys and phone accessible

• Do not announce you are alone

• Avoid lingering by your vehicle

• If someone is making you uncomfortable, change plans without explaining

Simple security upgrades:

• Share your route and ETA with your check-in person

• Use location sharing when you have service

• Park in visible areas, near other cars when possible

The trail community also includes Trail Angels and kind strangers who help hikers out. Many towns along major trails have locals who offer rides (shuttles or friendly hitchhikes), maintain water caches, or even host hikers for a shower and meal.

As Heather Anderson eloquently puts it, “People of varying walks of life, ages, and means come together in search of a shared goal… This community extends far beyond the bounds of the narrow thread of trail we walked together.” The friendships you form out there can indeed last a lifetime, connected by the indelible memories of mud, blisters, sunsets, and summit triumphs shared.

Accepting generosity from strangers can be a beautiful part of the solo hike experience – it reminds you that people can be wonderfully good. Of course, exercise normal caution (as discussed) and stick to verified trail angels or those with good reputations among hikers.

On-Trail Habits That Prevent Problems

Solo hiking safety is mostly micro-decisions: drink before you are thirsty, eat before you bonk, keep checking your position, and stay ahead of weather.

On-Trail Habits:

• Navigation checks at every junction and at regular intervals

• Snack and water cadence, not reactive panic eating

• If you feel off, stop and troubleshoot early: blisters, hot spots, fatigue

• Keep your head up near streams, cliff edges, scree, and slick rock

• Do not wear headphones. If you’re going to anyway, wear one earbud max

Remember: most emergencies begin as ignored inconveniences.

Campsite Selection and Night Security

Good campsites are found, not made. Choose established sites on durable surfaces, keep distance from water sources, and prioritize visibility and exit options over perfect views. Night security is about calm routines: food storage, camp hygiene, and choosing the right neighbors.

Campsite Selection Checklist:

• Choose established campsites and durable surfaces when available

• Camp at least 200 feet from lakes and streams to protect riparian areas and reduce animal traffic

• Avoid low points where cold air pools and water collects

• Avoid exposed ridgelines when storms are likely

• If vibes are off, move. Your camp is not a contract.

Night Routines That Reduce Risk:

• Food storage: follow local guidelines (bear can, hang, or lockers)

• Keep a clean camp: smellables packed, trash managed

• Headlamp and shoes staged where you can reach them fast

• Know your bailout direction before you sleep

Lightning & Severe Weather: What to Know

Lightning is one of the most likely life-threatening hazards in exposed terrain.

Use conservative timing, avoid ridgelines when storms build, and follow the 30/30 rule: if the time between lightning and thunder is 30 seconds or less, descend rapidly (if you are exposed) or seek shelter, then wait 30 minutes after the last thunder before resuming.

Lightning Safety Checklist:

• Check forecasts and start early

• Get off ridges and peaks as clouds build

• Avoid isolated tall trees

• If you must wait it out, spread out from others

• Put metal items like trekking poles away from your body

• Resume only after the storm has clearly passed

Wildlife and environmental hazards

Most wildlife danger is management, not combat. Give animals space, secure food, and learn region-specific hazards. Environmental hazards like heat, cold, snow, and smoke are often more dangerous than animals.

Wildlife Basics:

• Bears: give space, do not run, speak calmly and slowly, back away without turning your back, and as a preventative measure, always secure food and smellables

• Snakes: watch footing, especially in warm rock areas

• Bugs and ticks: treat prevention as routine, not optional

Tick Prevention Essentials:

• Use repellent and check your body after hiking

• Stay on trail and avoid tall grass when possible

What to Carry: Safety Gear Non-Negotiables

Safety gear should solve real problems: navigation failures, weather shifts, injury management, and emergency communication. The best setup is small, lightweight, and actually used.

Core Safety Gear Kit:

• Offline maps on your phone plus a backup navigation method

• Headlamp

• Minimal first aid for blisters, cuts, sprains

• Emergency warmth layer and rain protection

• Extra water capacity and a treatment method

• Whistle

• Battery or charging solution

Optional but high-impact for solo hikers:

• Satellite communicator for remote routes

• Personal safety tool you are trained and comfortable using

• Small knife or multitool

If you need a lightweight baseline list for safety (and other) gear, check out my comprehensive gear list for trail-tested recommendations.

When Something Goes Wrong

When you hike alone, your best skill is early decision-making. Stop small issues from becoming rescue scenarios. If you are lost, injured, or weather escalates, slow down, stabilize, and choose the safest exit.

Decision Rules:

• Lost: stop, confirm location, backtrack to last known point, do not wander

• Injured: stabilize, reduce swelling, consider whether you can walk safely

• Weather: if you are unsure, descend and wait or exit

• Human weirdness: create distance immediately, change plans, do not explain

Hiking solo as a woman can be incredibly empowering: you’ll learn that you can thrive in the wild on your own terms, navigate literal and figurative mountains, and find peace in your own company. Yes, you’ll also learn to deal with gross blisters, scary thunderstorms, and the occasional awkward encounter – but those become footnotes in a much larger story of accomplishment.

Trail Community: Solo, Sure, But Not Alone

One beautiful paradox of solo thru-hiking is that although you start alone, you often finish with a trail family. The long-distance hiking community is famously welcoming.

Even if you start your thru-hike solo, you’ll meet others at shelters, campsites, water sources, and trail towns. Swapping stories over dinner or leapfrogging each other for days, you may form deep bonds.

Beyond the trail, there’s a vast online and off-trail community of female hikers sharing wisdom and encouragement. Social media groups, forums like Women of the Appalachian Trail, and blogs/newsletters (sup!) are great places to ask questions and learn from others’ experiences. You’ll find women who have thru-hiked while pregnant, women who started in their 60s, women of marginalized communities building inclusive hiking groups – a rich diversity of voices all cheering you on.

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Have a favorite trail story, solo hiking tip, or gear recommendation? Drop it in the comments—your insight might inspire someone’s first adventure!

What to Do Next

As you prepare for your first solo thru-hike, take heart that thousands of women have done this before you, each with their own fears and doubts, and they are rooting for you. In the words of one veteran, “We must destigmatize this nearly universal experience” of women adventuring confidently outdoors. The more we share our stories and tips, the more we lift each other up. So here is your reminder: you are brave, you are strong, and you are capable – more than you even know. The trail will prove it to you.

As one solo hiker wrote after finishing her trek, “It proved to me that I could do anything. Now, whenever life gets hard, I remind myself: I walked from Georgia to Maine – I can handle this.”

Pack your bag, prepare well, then step onto the trail with confidence. There is a whole community of solo female badasses in your corner, some ahead of you leaving footprints to follow, and others behind you, inspired by your example. As the miles unfold, you may find that being a “solo” female hiker is paradoxically the most connected and supported you’ve ever felt.

What’s next? 👉 Check Out Part 2: Health, Gear, and Trail Resilience for Solo Women

Frequently Asked Questions

What is the best first solo hike for a woman?

Pick a popular, well-marked trail you can finish in daylight, with clear cell service for most of the route. Save offline maps anyway. Build confidence with repetition, not heroics.

Should women carry pepper spray while hiking alone?

Carry what you understand and can access quickly. Training and familiarity matter more than the item itself. Your first safety tool is awareness and early exits.

How do I deal with fear before hiking alone?

Fear drops when your plan gets specific. Choose a short trail, start early, set a turnaround time, and commit to leaving if anything feels off.

What should I bring for protection while solo hiking?

The answer is simple: carry the protection that makes you feel at ease. For some, that’s a small knife and a whistle; for others, a canister of pepper spray or bear spray. Many experts don’t recommend firearms for backcountry self-defense unless you’re highly trained, as a gun can create new risks.

“Where’s the turnoff for the rest of the trail?” he muttered, flipping through a folded topo map. The rest of us exchanged glances. The route had seemed straightforward enough on AllTrails; yet here we were, caught off-guard at a popular waterfall viewpoint, surrounded by casual day-hikers snapping selfies. It was hardly the isolated adventure we’d anticipated. Quickly, I opened the AllTrails app, pulling up our loop in real-time. The blinking blue GPS dot placed us precisely at the falls, with a discreet trail marker hidden behind a curtain of rhododendron leaves indicating our onward route. “Found it!” I grinned, as Omar shook his head with a half-smile.

This little episode was a wake-up call: even seasoned hikers can underestimate the nuances of navigating with AllTrails. While continuing our journey along Cove Mountain Trail, winding toward Cataract Falls and onward through the dense forests of the Smokies, we began to appreciate fully the app’s capabilities. By the end of the full 16-mile loop - legs tired, spirits buoyant - Omar conceded (reluctantly) that perhaps this digital companion had earned a spot alongside his treasured paper maps.

Below, I’m spilling the hard-earned tips from that day – and years of other adventures – on how to use AllTrails correctly, especially if you’re a mileage-hardened hiker who’s new to hiking apps. Think of it as a guide to avoid the common missteps seasoned hikers make when underestimating this digital tool. Let’s dive in (before Omar prints out another 12-page trip plan).

AllTrails: The Hiker’s New Best Friend (Yes, Even for Old-Timers)

If you’ve spent decades bagging peaks or logging long trail days without any app, you might wonder what the fuss is about. Well, AllTrails has become the go-to trail companion for millions – and for good reason. As of late 2024, over 75 million outdoor enthusiasts use AllTrails to connect with nature. The app’s database boasts some 450,000 trail maps worldwide, complete with crowdsourced reviews and photos. In other words, odds are that even your secret local loop or that obscure backcountry route is indexed in there somewhere.

AllTrails isn’t just popular, it’s also trusted. The platform has racked up over 1 million 5-star reviews, earning a reputation as one of the world’s most trusted outdoor platforms. It even survived the pandemic hiking boom and came out stronger – in a recent Inc. Magazine piece, AllTrails was fittingly described as the “gateway drug” that gets people outside. Don’t let that scare you off: for veterans of the trail, AllTrails can be a powerful ally rather than a crutch. It’s like adding a high-tech tool to your hiking arsenal – one that can enhance (not replace) your hard-won wilderness savvy.

Why bother if you already know how to navigate?

Think of AllTrails as your hyper-efficient research assistant and on-trail guide. It aggregates up-to-date information on trail conditions, helps you plan routes on a laptop and sync them to your phone, and provides GPS tracking to keep you on course. The key is knowing which features to use (and how), so you don’t fall into the traps that many experienced hikers do when first using the app. Let’s break down those features and some trade secrets to get the most out of AllTrails.

Plan and Organize with Lists (Omar Approves)

One feature we seasoned hikers often overlook is the humble Lists. If you’re like Omar, you might be used to planning hikes via spreadsheets or dog-eared guidebooks. AllTrails Lists can simplify that process – and even make it fun.

Lists let you save and organize trails into custom collections.

Found an interesting trail you want to tackle later? Add it to a list. Planning a multi-hike trip? Create a list for it (e.g., “Smokies Spring 2025”) and save all your target trails there. During our Gatlinburg trip, we could have saved ourselves a few headaches by putting all our planned hikes (Cove Mountain, Chimney Tops, Mt. LeConte, etc.) into a shared list ahead of time for easy reference.

Creating a list is straightforward: in the app, tap ‘Saved’ at the bottom, then go to the ‘Lists’ tab and hit ‘Create new list’. Name it, add trails, done. You can also add any trail to your default Favorites list with a tap of the heart. According to AllTrails, adding trails to your favorites or custom lists is quick and easy – and a great way to organize future adventures. In fact, the app’s own help center encourages making lists for things like specific trip plans or goals, noting that “Lists are a great way to organize trails and a fun way to share your plans with friends!”. (Sharing is optional – you can keep lists private or only share with select people. More on privacy soon.)

For example, AllTrails itself publishes curated lists to inspire users. Their recently announced “25 Trails to Explore in 2025” list spans the globe – from chasing bioluminescent insects on South Carolina’s Congaree Firefly Trail to trekking a high alpine route in the Swiss Alps. You can follow such official lists or just use them as inspiration to build your own bucket list. The point is, Lists help you plan like a pro. Omar, notorious for his binder of printed hike notes, now begrudgingly admits that having our itinerary neatly organized in the AllTrails app (and synced to everyone’s devices) beats emailing PDFs around.

Share Type Two Fun

Speaking of syncing – a common question is whether your planning on the computer carries over to your phone. The answer is yes.

AllTrails syncs seamlessly between desktop and mobile.

You can scout trails and create maps on the AllTrails website from the comfort of your big-screen monitor, and those changes will instantly reflect in your app. During planning, I often flip open my laptop to draw routes or read long reviews, then later access all that info on my phone when it’s go time. This app-to-computer collaboration is clutch. No more fumbling with printouts at the trailhead – just pull up your saved list or map on your phone.

Know Before You Go: Trail Details Matter

Experienced hikers pride themselves on knowing trail mileage and elevation like the back of their hand. But when using AllTrails (or any app), it’s vital to pay attention to the on-screen details — and not make assumptions. Consider this your pre-hike checklist in the digital age.

First, always double-check the trail basics displayed in AllTrails: total distance, route type, and elevation gain. These are usually right below the trail name. One of the biggest mistakes newbies and veterans alike make is not realizing, for example, that a trail is an out-and-back. In AllTrails, a trail listed as “5 miles, out & back” means it’s 2.5 miles each way (5 miles total). But if you only read “5 miles” and assume a loop, you’re in for a surprise five miles in when you have to turn around and do it again. Don’t ask how I know. As Outdoors.com notes, many beginners (and, ahem, some seasoned folks on autopilot) “don’t quite realize what they’re getting themselves into” and lack a full understanding of specs like distance, trail type, and elevation gain. Take a moment to digest those specs.

“One of the most crucial mistakes I see beginners make is that they don’t quite realize what they’re getting themselves into. It’s important to have a full understanding of specs like distance, type of trail, and elevation gain.”

— outdoors.com

The quote above might target newcomers, but the wisdom applies universally. On our Smokies loop, we initially glossed over critical details, seeing "16.1 miles" on AllTrails and assuming familiarity with similar trails. But deeper inspection would have shown us that the first couple of miles toward Laurel Falls were relatively easy and popular, while the remainder featured significant climbing, totaling nearly 3,000 feet of elevation gain. That elevation gain - most of it after the heavily trafficked falls - shouldn't have been an afterthought. Context is crucial, even for the experienced.

Next, don’t rely blindly on AllTrails’ difficulty rating.

The app classifies trails as Easy, Moderate, or Hard, but those labels can be notoriously subjective. In fact, one frequent complaint (even among AllTrails fans) is that the difficulty ratings are a bit too broad. Travel writer William O’Connor quipped that he felt misled by the app’s ratings – “Two ‘hard’ hikes turned out to be cakewalks,” one hiker complained in his survey of users. The consensus was that you have to ignore the difficulty label or take it with a grain of salt. In AllTrails’ defense, difficulty can be relative (a “Hard” trail for a novice might feel moderate to a marathon runner). So, instead of trusting the color-coded icon alone, read the trail description and recent reviews. Look for clues: Are people mentioning steep scrambles? Was that “Moderate” trail actually super muddy and slow-going? The real intel lives in those user reviews and photos.

While you’re at it, always check for recent trail conditions.

AllTrails is great because hikers post updates about downed trees, closed sections, or anything noteworthy. For example, if there’s a note like “Bridge out at mile 2, had to wade across creek,” you’ll know what’s coming. Bear Grylls’s team emphasizes using resources and apps for updated trail conditions so you’re not caught off guard by, say, lingering snow or mud. A quick scroll through recent comments can save you from unpleasant surprises.

And here’s a pro tip: scan the “Fees & Permits” info on the trail page. AllTrails often notes if a park pass or permit is required. On the Cove Mountain Trail page, it clearly stated that a paid parking tag is required for stops over 15 minute – crucial info in the Smokies, where parking without a tag could get you fined. Make it a habit to glance at that section so you’re squared away with regulations. (Remember how proud we were having bought our tags ahead of time? Gold star for us on that one, at least.)

Finally, interpret the elevation profile if available. AllTrails will usually show a little graph of elevation gain over distance. If you see a sudden spike on the graph, be mentally prepared for a hill climb at that point. One rule of thumb I use: ~1,000 feet of gain per mile is steep. Anything gentler than that is generally manageable. On a topo map, that steep section would show tightly packed contour lines – and indeed, AllTrails’ topo maps will reflect that too if you use the right layer.

The bottom line: before you hit “Start” on your hike, take a minute to read the fine print in AllTrails. Seasoned hikers might feel they can wing it, but a brief digital reconnaissance can confirm (or correct) what you think you know about the trail.

Map Matters: Mastering Map Types and Smart Routing

One of the coolest aspects of AllTrails is the variety of Map Types and the ability to create your own routes. Yet many experienced hikers never venture beyond the default map view. If you’re planning anything complex – or just geek out on maps like I do – you’ll want to tap into these features.

AllTrails offers several map layers to choose from, each with different info.

The default AllTrails layer is a custom topographic map with trail names, mileage markers, contour lines, and more. It’s a great all-around map. But sometimes, switching to a different map type can reveal things the default doesn’t.

For instance, the Satellite view can help you see terrain or landmarks from above (useful if you want to identify a clearing or rock face). There’s also a plain Road map, an old-school USGS Topographic map, and even OpenStreetMap-based layers for international detail. Don’t worry about memorizing them all; just know that if your map isn’t showing something clearly, a quick toggle might. On any trail map screen, look for the map layers icon (usually a little stack or layers symbol) to change the base map.

Then there are Map Details, which are overlays you can toggle on/off to add extra info. My personal favorites are the waypoints and photos layers. Turning on waypoints will display points of interest like campgrounds, trail junctions, or summits on the map – super handy to get a sense of what’s along the route. Enabling the photos layer plasters little photo thumbnails on the map wherever someone took a picture. It’s like a sneak peek of what views or obstacles you’ll encounter at various spots (if you’re into that kind of thing, that is).

Now, let’s talk about the Map Creator and the magic of Smart Routing.

This is where AllTrails truly shines for planners. If you’ve ever bushwhacked your own path or strung together multiple trails into a custom route, you’ll appreciate this tool. On the AllTrails website (it’s desktop-only), you can create custom maps by drawing your route. You can freehand draw, but the genius part is Smart Routing: when toggled on, your drawn line will automatically snap to known trails and pathways. Essentially, AllTrails does the routing for you, following the best path for your chosen activity.

We used Smart Routing when brainstorming a longer route linking Cove Mountain Trail with neighboring paths. With a few clicks, I traced from the fire tower down to a different trailhead, and AllTrails snapped my line onto the connecting Little Greenbriar Trail perfectly, calculating the extra distance and elevation in seconds. No guesswork or squiggly lines – it was like having a trail editor that “knew” the official routes. The result? A neat custom map showing a big lollipop loop. I even added a waypoint for “Lunch Spot” at an overlook.

The image above is an example of AllTrails’ Map Creator in action. On the left, you set your route preferences (we set ours to “Hiking” with Smart Routing on). On the map, the red line is our drawn route snapping along real trails, and at the bottom, you can see the elevation profile and stats updating.

Once you Save your custom map, it syncs to your phone under Saved → My Maps. From there, you can pull it up on the trail (even if offline, provided you saved the area map) and follow it just like a regular trail.

For an experienced hiker, this feature is gold. You can plan bail-out shortcuts, alternate routes, or combine trails into one seamless journey. It basically brings your paper-map scribbles into a GPS-friendly format. And if a trail isn’t in AllTrails’ database yet, you could draw it in manually – though for that, you might also consider contributing a new trail to the community (if it’s legit and publicly accessible).

Navigate Like a Trailblazer (Tech Tips for On-Trail Navigation)

Once you’ve done all the prep work, it’s time to actually hit the trail and Navigate. This is where the rubber (or Vibram sole) meets the road. Using AllTrails’ Navigate feature correctly can turn your phone into a trusty guide, but there are a few things to keep in mind on the trail.

When you arrive at the trailhead, open up your saved trail or custom map in the app. You’ll typically see a ‘Navigate’ or ‘Start’ button. Tapping that will start the GPS tracking and show your progress. AllTrails will display the route – usually as a red or green line – and your current location as the famous little blue dot. As you move, the blue dot moves. Simple, right?

Need to save battery life while navigating? Check out this helpful AllTrails guide on how to maximize efficiency while out on the trail!

A couple of nuances: If you loaded an AllTrails verified trail and hit Start, the app might change the trail’s color to highlight the part you’ve completed versus not. For example, the section you have hiked might turn blue behind you, while the remaining trail stays green. This gives you a visual of how far along you are. If you’re recording your hike (which you should – it’ll save to your profile for later), you’ll also see stats like distance, time, and elevation climbed as you go.

Now, a word of caution from personal experience: It’s easy to get glued to that screen, especially when you see your dot drifting around a switchback. But don’t forget to look up! On that morning in Gatlinburg, we fell into the trap of staring at our phones trying to match the map to reality, when the obvious signpost was right in front of us. AllTrails is an aid, not a substitute for situational awareness. Use the app to confirm your direction at confusing junctions, or to navigate in low-visibility conditions, but keep your senses tuned to the environment.

If you have AllTrails’ pro subscription (AllTrails+), be sure to download the map for offline use before you lose cell service. Even without cell signal, GPS on your phone will still work and show the blue dot on the map – but only if the map is stored offline. Think of it as caching the area. Many a seasoned hiker who scoffed at carrying a paper map has learned this the hard way when deep in the woods with “No Service” and a blank AllTrails map tile. Don’t be that person – download the map ahead or carry a backup map.

Another useful on-trail feature: the Navigate drawer.

If you swipe up on the bottom panel in Navigate mode, you can access options like adding waypoints on the fly (maybe you want to mark that sweet backcountry campsite you found), or checking coordinates, and even switching the map type mid-hike if needed. These little tools can enhance your navigation experience, but they’re optional. At minimum, the big win of Navigate mode is keeping you on the right path and tracking your trek.

And remember, using AllTrails doesn’t mean you have to abandon your compass or innate sense of direction. It’s okay to use both! For instance, when we were descending Cove Mountain, we lost the trail briefly in a leafy section (blame all those beautiful autumn leaves covering the footbed). Instead of panicking, we checked the app – the blue dot showed we were a tad off the red line. A quick correction and we were back on track. In the old days, we’d have done the same with map and compass triangulation. The spirit of navigation is the same; the tools have just evolved.

Privacy Settings: Share Your Adventure (On Your Terms)

By the end of a hike, I often have a neat digital breadcrumb trail of where we went, plus photos and notes. AllTrails will automatically save your activity if you recorded it, and you might be tempted to share it – or not. Here’s where privacy settings come into play, and it’s something even savvy hikers might not think about initially.

AllTrails gives you control over who can see your profile and content. You can keep everything totally private, share only with followers, or make your profile public for any AllTrails user to see. By default, if you never tweak it, some of your stuff might be public. Experienced hikers who value a bit of secrecy (maybe you don’t want to broadcast your secret fishing spot or that off-trail shortcut) should definitely review these settings.

In your account privacy options, you can set defaults for various content types: your completed trails, recorded activities, maps, lists, etc. For example, I set my Activities to “Followers only,” so only people I’ve approved can see my hike tracks. You might choose “Only me” if you prefer to keep a low profile altogether. Meanwhile, I leave my trail reviews public because sharing conditions and tips helps the community (and doesn’t give away any personal info) – that’s the beauty of crowd-sourced knowledge.

If you hike with a group and want to share a specific trip with them, you don’t have to make everything public. AllTrails allows you to share individual links to a trail, list, or map. So for our group, I made our “Smokies Trip” list shareable via a secret link that I sent only to my friends. That way they could view the list and maps without me exposing it to the whole AllTrails universe.

Take a minute to explore the privacy settings in the app (Profile → Settings gear → Privacy). It’s worth ensuring you’re comfortable with what you’re sharing. As AllTrails’ help center puts it, they offer a range of settings “to help you control who can view your content”. You’re in charge here. So whether you want to become the next AllTrails influencer with a public profile, or you’re more like Omar – guarding your GPX files like state secrets – you can adjust accordingly.

Verified Trails vs. User Contributions: Understanding the Source

Ever wonder how all those trails got into AllTrails in the first place? It’s a mix of professional curation and community contribution. Understanding this will help you gauge the reliability of the info you see for any given trail.

Verified Trails (also called curated content) are routes that the AllTrails team has vetted and added themselves. These often correspond to official trails in parks, with accurate names, distances, and descriptions. When you search the app, the results are typically these verified trails – so you can trust that, say, the “Cove Mountain Trail” we did is indeed the established trail and not some rando’s backyard path.

AllTrails had over 200,000 such trail guides published by early 2021, and the number is much higher now. They even have a crew of global trail experts reviewing suggestions submitted by the community. So the platform’s curated database is quite robust.

However, the app also leverages the power of community.

Users (like you and me) can add new trails that might be missing. For example, if there’s a local trail not in AllTrails yet, you can map it and submit it. This is awesome for expanding the map, but it does mean not everything in AllTrails is 100% verified by staff. Occasionally you’ll find a route that’s essentially a user’s recorded track uploaded as a “trail.” Most of the time it’s fine – maybe a lesser-known path that just hasn’t been officially catalogued. But sometimes it could be a bushwhack or social trail that isn’t an official trail at all.

There’s a bit of crowd wisdom needed here. Check how many people have done a trail and what they say. If a trail has zero reviews and a weird name like “John’s Secret Shortcut,” you might be looking at a user-added path that few have tried. One hiking blog pointed out that bad AllTrails info can include “bushwhacks and herd paths passed off as actual designated trails” or even trails crossing private property misrepresented as public. While AllTrails tries to police this, it’s ultimately on us hikers to use common sense. If something seems off on the map, cross-reference with park maps or other sources.

The good news is, AllTrails clearly marks verified routes when you load them in Navigate, and they award a “Verified Completed” badge only if you stick to the official route. That’s their way of encouraging people to follow the known trail rather than wander off-track.

In summary: trust the main trails you find on AllTrails, but be a little cautious of any oddball paths. Embrace the community contributions, but verify critical info if you’re venturing somewhere truly obscure. It’s the same as hearing a tip from a fellow hiker – 99% of the time it’s great info, 1% of the time you raise an eyebrow and double-check.

The Next Adventure (Subscribe for the Inside Scoop)

By the end of our Cove Mountain hike, our group was a little wiser. We had navigated via AllTrails, learned to poke around the app for trail insights, and even Omar had to concede that a smartphone might have a place in his pack. Over post-hike burgers in Gatlinburg, we were already planning our next outing – this time, armed with a shiny new AllTrails list and perhaps fewer printouts in Omar’s clipboard.

I’ll let you in on a secret: there’s a big hike coming at the tail end of this summer. This one’s a bucket-list solo trek—just me, my gear, and maybe a bit of bravery at higher altitude. I won’t spill all the details yet (gotta build the suspense!), but I can hint that it involves an airplane ticket and some serious elevation. Will AllTrails be part of my trail toolkit for this epic journey? Absolutely. Subscribers to Type Two Fun will get exclusive play-by-play updates, location reveals, and behind-the-scenes glimpses when the time comes.

And if you found this guide useful, please consider sharing it with your favorite hiking buddies. Let’s keep the community growing, informed, and ready for whatever trails life throws our way.

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After all, the only thing better than learning from your own mistakes is helping others not repeat them.

Happy trails, and see you out there on the next summit!

I'm sitting in the public library of my hometown, just a stone's throw from the high school I graduated from in 2013. I’ll be thirty this year. It’s a strange landing point, approximately a thousand miles from the place I called home only a week ago.

Poetic, though; I’ll give it that. This was once my launch pad.

My big sister, Allison, used to bring me here when I was younger. Despite being a boisterous kid, I revered the library as sacred. Both Allison and my Aunt Janelle fueled my love for reading, taking me to every library and bookstore in the tri-county area. They taught me that knowledge is its own kind of power.

You don’t get to choose the memories that surface, but I’m glad those ones stuck with me. Nothing much has changed here at the library, not even the musty green sofa chairs or the archaic-looking plastic oak tree towering over the children’s reading nook. These remain steadfast in the annals of my brain as well as in the here and now.

I’ve changed, though—so thoroughly, in fact, that I sometimes wonder if this place would recognize me at all.

The following reflections mark the start of a new series, one that steps beyond trail markers into the denser terrain of lived experience. I’ll be sharing more of the lessons that shaped me in my twenties and the perspective I’m carrying into what comes next.

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If you’d like to continue this journey with me, consider subscribing to the newsletter. Paid subscribers will receive exclusive updates on the big hike I have coming up, along with the occasional deeper interlude. All other issues of Type Two Fun will remain free unless time-locked. Accessibility has always been the heart of this project, and that’s not changing.

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If you've ever been trapped on a long road trip with a toddler, a flat tire, and dwindling snacks, you might question the sanity of anyone who willingly embarks on vanlife full-time with a tiny human in tow. But that's exactly what Anna did: intentionally, enthusiastically, and without looking back.

Her travel buddy, two-year-old Jacob, contributes little beyond giggles, hugs, and the occasional tantrum. Still, their lives, neatly packed into a cozy van, have become an ode to spontaneity, minimalism, and raising a global citizen in a relentlessly complex world.

I've always admired those who throw convention out the van window and embrace uncertainty head-on. After all, the essence of Type Two Fun isn't merely enjoying what's comfortable and known… it's finding fulfillment precisely when things get gritty, uncomfortable, and, dare I say, a bit wild. Anna's journey, shared generously via an extended conversation, is proof positive of exactly that philosophy.

Choosing Wheels Over Roots

For Anna, the love affair with wandering began humbly. She speaks of her early post-university travel days with a distant fondness - think budget airlines, hostel bunks, and strategically rationed street food. But something shifted dramatically in 2019 when she and her fiancé touched down in Australia. They purchased an unapologetically barebones van and decided less would simply have to be more.

Minimalist living wasn't glamorous; it was beans-and-toast simplicity. Yet, somewhere between fixing flat tires and chasing sunsets, Anna found an addiction to freedom.

Then along came Jacob.

Many parents instinctively circle wagons: stability, mortgages, fixed routines become the North Stars of family life. But Anna, refreshingly contrarian, asked herself, “What if home could be everywhere?” In Perth, where Jacob was born, she realized her son’s connection to his birthplace didn't have to be confined to a geographical pin. He could embody Australia’s soul by feeling it deeply, coast-to-coast, sand between tiny toes, laughter echoing through eucalyptus forests.

From Australia’s Ningaloo Reef, where coral blooms beneath turquoise seas, to the majestic, snow-kissed Swiss Alps, Anna insists it's often the mundane, unscripted moments that stand out. Jacob spinning soap bubbles over Thailand's ivory sands or squealing with delight steering imaginary boats on sparkling waters - those small snapshots of joy become indelible imprints.

In a poignant Instagram post, Anna confronts a hard truth head-on:

It’s a bold admission, one many parents quietly grapple with. In an era glorifying hustle, Anna’s choice disrupts expectations, challenging the pressure to achieve while parenting from the sidelines. Careers often trick us into believing childhood can be scheduled around meetings and milestones, but Anna realizes this illusion comes at a cost. Childhood is fleeting; memories are formed in everyday moments, not promised future vacations or postponed adventures.

Prioritizing presence means stepping back from society’s relentless push for productivity. It means trading ambition’s comfort for the uncertainty of life on the road. Yet, Anna's decision reflects a deeper ambition: to fully witness Little Jacob’s growth rather than miss it from afar. This tension resonates with parents navigating modern demands - a reminder that raising children isn't merely about providing materially, but offering emotional availability.

In choosing presence now, Anna gently rebels against cultural norms that equate busyness with worth, reminding us all that sometimes the bravest path is stepping away to honor the moments we can never reclaim.

Practical Tips for Vanlife Parents:

Based on Anna’s insights and additional resources for parents exploring vanlife, here are practical takeaways:

• Start Small: Begin with short trips to gauge your family’s comfort level.

• Embrace Minimalism: Prioritize essentials and ditch clutter to maximize comfort.

• Pack a 'Survival Kit': Favorite toys, snacks, surprises for emergencies, and creative supplies like coloring books and stickers.

• Consider Worldschooling: Choose experiential education, mixing structured online programs or unschooling to match your child’s learning style.

• Create Boundaries for Sanity: Limit screen time on drives, allowing exceptions for long-haul flights.

• Flexibility is Everything: Anticipate delays, detours, and unexpected tantrums - flexibility ensures smoother sailing.

• Practice Self-Care: Prioritize personal routines, no matter how small - morning coffee rituals, yoga stretches, or journaling.

• Engage Your Kids as Co-Travelers: Let children make simple decisions like choosing stops or daily activities to foster ownership of the experience.

• Connect with Other Families: Join online communities for vanlife families for support, tips, and camaraderie.

• Safety and Insurance: Ensure you have robust travel insurance covering medical emergencies, breakdowns, and unexpected expenses.

Keeping a Toddler Entertained on the Road

Anna doesn’t pretend vanlife with a toddler is easy; it's not. But simplicity helps: "Don’t overthink it. Kids belong everywhere," she says.

During flights, screen time becomes permissible. While traveling in the van, Anna has established clear boundaries, skipping screen time entirely during drives. Instead, they read, color, play with stickers, create stories, and sing together, ensuring every journey becomes quality time.

Flights are an exception to her no-screen mantra; "I enjoy movies at 35,000 feet, so why shouldn’t Jacob?" she quips, embracing reality over parental purism. On the road, the window becomes their screen - nature flashing by, an ever-changing documentary. They sing, invent stories, and occasionally test the patience of fellow road warriors with spirited renditions of "Wheels on the Bus." It's messy, noisy, perfectly imperfect parenting, and Anna owns it completely.

Parenting and traveling continuously remind Anna how kids adapt naturally when given the chance. It’s rarely Pinterest-perfect, but it always works.

Worldschooling as an Education in Life

Worldschooling, or education through travel, has become integral to Anna’s parenting style. The Scientific American article by Jennie Germann Molz highlights how experiences outside traditional classrooms help kids build emotional resilience, cultural awareness, and adaptability - qualities Anna believes far surpass the rote memorization emphasized in traditional schooling.

Though Anna and Jacob have explored diverse locations worldwide, Thailand remains uniquely inspiring for Anna. Having spent six cumulative months there, she recalls the immediate happiness felt upon arriving in Bangkok.

“It’s not just tourist attractions - it’s the feeling of calmness, the warmth of the people, and how beautifully they embrace children,” Anna shares.

She vividly remembers Jacob sitting quietly in a temple, intuitively understanding the moment's serenity. Thailand’s impact on Anna’s perspective is profound, especially concerning motherhood. “Traveling made me much more relaxed. I’ve seen happy children everywhere, even in places with so little,” she reflects, recalling a remote village in Laos. The simplicity and joy of life there challenged her perceptions, teaching her the value of letting go of excessive parental anxiety.

Navigating Discomfort (or How the Nullarbor Plain Isn’t Actually That Terrible)

Anna famously tackled Australia’s notoriously desolate Nullarbor Plain, not once, but twice. What might be perceived as dull became an appreciation for subtle beauty - wild kangaroos, star-filled skies, quirky towns, and, most importantly, perseverance.

Anna openly shares her experience crossing the Nullarbor. On Instagram, she dispels myths about the drive being monotonous, highlighting the subtle beauty and shifting landscapes. Discomfort isn’t failure, Anna insists; it’s growth.

Recounting one particularly challenging country where she felt profoundly out of place, Anna chose to revisit, hoping the experience would differ with Jacob along. Ultimately, it remained difficult but taught her an essential lesson - growth often comes from understanding what doesn't align with your life.

Raising a World Citizen

Anna’s objective is clear:

Each encounter, each new friend across cultures, shapes Jacob’s open-hearted worldview. Jacob’s ability to form connections effortlessly are clear evidence of the positive impact of this upbringing. “Jacob doesn’t see differences; he sees friends,” she says, emphasizing the importance of these global experiences in shaping Jacob’s worldview and personality.

Jacob’s capacity to connect deeply with new people and places continually amazes Anna. A recent encounter with backpackers at a campsite exemplified this beautifully. Upon reuniting later, Jacob enthusiastically greeted them with a heartfelt hug, engaging with them seamlessly through the evening. “It was such a sweet moment,” Anna smiles, reflecting on her son's innate ability to bond with people across cultures. These interactions reinforce her conviction that their unconventional lifestyle is cultivating a sense of global connectedness within Jacob.

Comfort in Simplicity

Amid the dynamic and often unpredictable life on the road, Anna holds tightly to simple comforts. One indispensable item in their van life is a compact coffee machine.

“In my first vanlife experience, every morning meant setting up a gas cooker outside, rain or shine, just for coffee,” she recalls humorously. Now, she cherishes the convenience of a single-button press. “It might seem small, but when living in a van, these little luxuries make all the difference.”

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The Journey Continues

Among their favorite stays, Anna recently highlighted Sahana Villas in Bali, a place instantly feeling like home. Designed thoughtfully for families, Jacob perfected his swimming skills in their private pool, while Anna enjoyed coffee straight from the villa’s plantation.

"Bali is always magical, but Sahana Villas made it even better," she shared on Instagram, noting their attentive staff, spacious gardens, and comforting Balinese massages.

Anna and Jacob’s story of exploration, resilience, and deep maternal connection exemplifies the spirit of adventure and the profound impacts of travel. Their experiences offer valuable lessons on living intentionally, embracing simplicity, and understanding that life's most beautiful moments are often its simplest.

Follow Anna and Jacob's inspiring adventures and heartwarming stories on Instagram at @blonde_and_baby_on_board, where their journey continues to unfold, capturing hearts and inspiring countless others to chase their dreams, one destination at a time!

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Eight months ago, I pressed play on a podcast that would change the way I thought about thru-hiking. At the time, I was in the thick of planning my Colorado Trail (CT) hike - a dream that felt both tantalizingly close and impossibly far away. The logistics alone were enough to keep me up at night. Gear, resupply points, weather, budgeting for weeks on the trail; it was all exhilarating, but the sheer financial reality of a long-distance hike loomed large. By then, my partner Arlo had shared countless stories with me regarding his Appalachian Trail (AT) thru-hike: the highs, the lows, and the ever-present in-betweens.

Being that he and I are at different skill levels entirely when it comes to outdoor survival (he is an Eagle Scout whereas I once had to Google “how to start a campfire” while holding a box of matches), I had doubts regarding my knowledge level and how well it would apply to the idea of solo thru-hiking the CT. People I would share this with weren’t shy about their reservations, either. Despite living in modern times, society loves to tell women they shouldn’t go out of their way to intentionally be alone in the woods.

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Then I found THRU-r. Or maybe it found me.

I remember that first episode like it was yesterday. Carol “Cheer” Coyne, a Triple Crowner and the founder of THRU-r, was deep in conversation with seasoned long-distance hiker Audrey “Glowstick” Payne, swapping stories about trail magic, unexpected obstacles, and the relentless pull of the next mile.

Audrey spoke candidly about how, at the start of her hike, she felt underprepared and uncertain, relying on what she had rather than splurging on the latest ultralight gear. Money was tight, so she made do. But in true trail magic fashion, that resourcefulness led to an unexpected upgrade when she crossed paths with a couple desperately in need of a larger tent, she was able to swap her bulky two-person, four-pound tent for a lighter, more manageable one-person setup. The trail, as she put it, has a way of providing exactly what you need, exactly when you need it.

🎧 Want to check out the podcast? Here’s the episode that stuck with me!

It was exactly what I needed to hear. Content that reached beyond tips and tricks; those are everywhere. I needed real stories from people (more specifically women, in my case) who had done it, who had pushed through doubts and setbacks to reach the other side of something big. And, would you like to take a guess at what Carol does with the information once she’s able to capture and synthesize it?

She databases it.

Not just the big, flashy stories; the “I almost got hypothermia and then a trail angel saved me” kind of stories. She captures everything: the practical, the mundane, the questions you’re too embarrassed to ask, and the details that could mean the difference between success and an early bailout. And she stores it in a way that makes it accessible, organized, and actually useful.

THRU-r isn’t just a podcast or a website. It’s a living, breathing archive of trail-tested wisdom, compiled by hikers who’ve been through it all. The moment I stumbled into this database, I realized just how much I didn’t know and how much I had to gain by leaning into this community.

A Trail Knowledge Goldmine

The THRU-r Video Library is packed with recordings of past events, expert insights, and full-length podcast interviews you won’t find anywhere else. Playlists include:

• Basic Skills – The stuff you don’t want to admit you don’t know

• Finances – How to afford the adventure without maxing out your credit card

• Trail Culture – Unspoken rules, etiquette, and how not to be “that hiker”

• Gear – Deep dives into what’s worth your money and what’s just marketing

• Strategy & Success – How to actually finish a thru-hike, mentally and physically

• Post-Trail Life – Because yes, coming home is harder than you think

And that’s just the videos. The Hiker Forum is a separate entity that offers an interactive knowledge bank where hikers exchange real-world advice.

The THRU-r Map: Trail Angels and Fellow Hikers at Your Fingertips

There’s also the THRU-r Map, which - if you opt in - allows you to see where other members are located. Whether you’re looking for a Trail Angel in your area, someone to carpool with to the trailhead, or just another hiker to grab a beer with, this feature helps hikers connect in the real world. It’s the kind of tool that makes long-distance hiking feel less like an isolated dream and more like a supported community endeavor.

And the best part? It’s all built with hiker values in mind: privacy, respect, and a code of kindness that ensures this space remains helpful, not toxic.

A Space Where Hikers Build Each Other Up

At its core, THRU-r is a community built for hikers, by hikers. What started as a simple idea - a podcast where long-distance hikers could share their stories - has evolved into something much bigger. It’s a hub for knowledge, connection, and support for anyone planning to take on a major trail.

Between the podcast, virtual meetups, expert advice, and a dedicated online forum, THRU-r has become an essential resource for hikers at every stage of the journey. This is a space where people come to help, not judge. I can’t overstate how rare that is. The outdoor world, for all its beauty, isn’t always the most welcoming place for newcomers, especially if you don’t fit the traditional mold of what a “thru-hiker” looks like. THRU-r is different. It makes space for everyone.

And honestly? That’s the kind of support that can make or break a dream. Thru-hiking isn’t just about covering distance; it’s about becoming someone new in the process.

And now, THRU-r is giving five hikers the opportunity to take that journey with financial support. The 2025 THRU-r Scholarship is offering $1,000 each to five aspiring thru-hikers, covering gear, trail expenses, or whatever they need to make their hike possible. If you’ve been dreaming of a long walk, but finances have been the barrier keeping you from stepping onto the trail… this is your chance.

The 2025 THRU-r Scholarship: What You Need to Know

Long-distance hiking isn’t cheap. That’s just the truth of it.

Between the big-ticket gear purchases (tent, pack, sleeping system, clothing, stove) and the ongoing expenses of resupplies, town stays, transportation, and unexpected costs, the numbers add up fast. And for a lot of hikers, that financial barrier is the difference between getting to the trailhead and watching the dream slip away.

The THRU-r Scholarship is designed to change that.

✅ Scholarship Amount: $1,000 per recipient
✅ Use of Funds: You decide: gear, food, travel, whatever helps you hike
✅ Eligibility: Open to hikers planning to thru-hike 200 miles or more in 2025
✅ Application Requirements:

• A short application form

• A 1-5 minute video introducing yourself, the trail you plan to hike, and why you’re applying
  ✅ Deadline: February 14, 2025, at 12 PM PST
  ✅ Selection & Notification: Five hikers will be chosen and notified by February 21, 2025

📌 Apply Here: THRU-r Scholarship Application

This isn’t just a cash award; it’s an invitation to be part of something bigger. Scholarship recipients will have the chance to share their journey with the THRU-r community, creating a ripple effect of inspiration for hikers to come.

Trails, Angels, Magic & The Hiker Community

While I was preparing for my Colorado Trail hike, I found myself returning to one specific THRU-r podcast episode: Episode 143 with Audrey “Glowstick” Payne.

Glowstick hiked both the Appalachian Trail and the Colorado Trail, and in that episode, she unpacked everything, from the unexpected challenges of trail life to the financial realities of getting to the starting line. Her honesty about the difficulties of saving money, affording gear, and stretching a budget on trail hit home.

The Colorado Trail spans 485 miles, running from Denver to Durango, with an average completion time of four to six weeks. It’s known for its high elevations, unpredictable weather, and remote sections, which means preparation is key. Between lightning storms above tree line, freezing temps, and the occasional bear encounter, hikers need the right mindset, skills, and financial support to make it through.

Listening to Glowstick’s experience made me realize just how much goes into a hike like this - and why a $1,000 scholarship could be the difference between making it happen and waiting another year (or never going at all).

More Than a Scholarship – A Community of Trail Angels

If you’re considering applying, take a minute to check out everything THRU-r offers beyond the scholarship itself.

• Virtual Meetups – Connect with other thru-hikers, ask questions, and swap advice

• Expert Q&A Sessions – Hear from experienced hikers about the realities of long-distance hiking

• Hiker Planning Workshops – Learn how to map out your resupply strategy, gear list, and training plan

• See All Events Here: THRU-r Events Page

This isn’t just about a financial boost; it’s about joining a community that genuinely wants to see you succeed.

One Step at a Time – Take the Leap

If you’re reading this and feeling that pull - the nagging thought that this could be your year - then I hope you apply.

Long-distance hiking changes you in ways you can’t anticipate. It strips away the noise, the excuses, the distractions. It forces you to sit with yourself, to test your limits, to find out what you’re capable of. And when it’s all said and done, you come out the other side stronger, braver, and more in tune with the world around you.

That journey starts with a single step.

📌 Application Deadline: February 14, 2025, at 12 PM PST
📌 Apply Now: THRU-r Scholarship Application

And if you need help training for a long-distance hike, I offer one-on-one coaching to help you build the strength, endurance, and mindset for the miles ahead.

💪 Train to Trail Fitness is a customized training program designed to help you hit the trail feeling strong and prepared.

📲 DM me here or on Instagram (@freda.heights) for more info!

The miles are waiting. Go chase them.

It’s an obscene time to crack open a new day (and it drives Arlo, my boyfriend, nuts), but circadian rhythm is not a program we mere mortals elect to participate in.

This ungodly hour just so happens to be the catalyst to my most productive timeframe, allowing me to slip between the cracks of …

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