Why I Choose to Hike Alone

The idea of hiking alone can be daunting. And, it's true, there's plenty of risk—unexpected wildlife encounters, injuries on the trail, or accidentally getting lost—but too often, we tell women it's something they specifically need to be afraid of, while pointing to dangers that aren't actually gendered.

Safety on the trails is far more nuanced—every hiker has their own set of concerns, in an outdoors space that has traditionally catered to very few of them. But more women are traveling solo than ever before, and that includes hiking, finding ways to consider safety while enjoying the chance to simply get out, move around, and take advantage of the benefits of natural spaces at home and abroad.

We spoke to four women who prefer to hike solo about their time outside. From short day trips in the Canadian Rockies, to week-long treks beneath Vermont's glowing fall foliage, they told us what ultimately inspired them to hit the trails alone, what they learned along the way, and why they keep going back for more.

Miranda Kennedy

Kennedy is an HR manager based in Alberta, Canada.

I live in Calgary, so my backyard is the Rocky Mountains, and I really lean on physical activity and exploring to de-stress. I feel quite confident about doing solo hikes in the Rockies because of the close proximity to home, and I always let someone else know exactly where I’m going in case something does happen.

It was a solo hiking trip in the Rockies that sparked my interest in going to Italy to do a trek when I turned 40 last November. I knew I wanted to do something big and bold to celebrate. I'm single, I'm quite independent, but I haven't done a lot of traveling by myself. But being out in the Rockies inspired something in me, and I got home and began Googling hikes in Europe that night.

Over the course of 10 days, I hiked 90 miles on the Alta Via One to Belluna. One of the best parts of the experience was that, in every house that you stay in on the route, there are travelers from all over the world, and they're so welcoming. It was rewarding to be able to talk to them about my day, or get tips and tricks for the next. Many of them were also on their own and had never done anything to push themselves this much.

While I felt a sense of safety because there are many connecting towns on that hike—and there’s WiFi—there was also a small side of anxiety because I was out there on my own. I'd never been there before. I didn’t know what to expect. No matter how many blogs or guide books you read, they do not explain the extent of what you will experience. For me, that was an overwhelming sense of pride and joy and accomplishment.

The feeling of solitude, especially as a female, was just incredible. That’s what kept pushing me. There were some eight-hour days of pouring rain, rolling thunder, and whipping winds. I have two nieces, they are 11 and 13, and I just want to inspire them to become strong, independent women. I thought of them.

I have a few friends that think they can never do it on their own—they don't feel safe or they worry they'd be bored and lonely. But I always say, I don't travel alone, I travel with myself.

Sandra Torres

Torres is based just outside Chicago, where she works in biotech sales.

I'm born and raised in Chicago, and I live out in the burbs now. I have a lot of long distance friendships, and a few friends in upstate New York were always raving about the fall foliage in the northeast. Last year, I suddenly had a gap in work, and I found a mistake fare to Burlington, Vermont. I'd been wanting to do an outdoors-oriented solo trip and it was the perfect opportunity. I had recommendations from friends, so I felt safer knowing I wasn't going into it completely blind.

I ended up going through Vermont, New Hampshire, and ended in Providence, Rhode Island, and I did it in a week. I hiked from 12 to 14 hours a day. I probably packed too much in. I wasn’t up for camping, so I stayed at bed and breakfasts.

I ran into some families outside Burlington, but it got more isolated the deeper I went into the Northeast, and especially in the White Mountains in New Hampshire. But that made it much more calming. This trip was at a time in my life where I really needed it. There was no cell service, no distractions, and it was a nice way to decompress and reflect.

The takeaway was just how restorative being in the outdoor and green spaces could be. I didn't grow up like this. The part of the city that I grew up in was a concrete jungle. My family are immigrants from Latin America, so really my vacations entailed international travel to see family—summer wasn’t going to summer camp. Having access to outdoor spaces and to public lands was not a thing.

Growing up low income and working class, in adulthood, you find out all the things that other people seem to have access to that you never did. State parks, national parks, they're free, but getting there sometimes is a challenge, especially if you're in major cities and you don't have access to transportation. One of the days, when I was just sitting there, eating a packed lunch on the trail, I was just thinking of how wonderful it would have been if I would have had access to these spaces 20 years ago.

That trip fueled my desire to just keep doing it. In New Hampshire, when I was in the White Mountains, one of the guys I met who was also out on his own recommended the All Trails app. It uses your GPS location and gives you trails and public lands that are near you. I used that once I came back home and discovered all these places near me. I was like, Where has this been my entire life?

Chase Lin

Lin is a Los Angeles-based stylist at Chop Chop salon.

I decided a year and a half ago to take my first solo trip out to Banff, Canada. I'm comfortable going out for a meal by myself, and doing day hikes in Topanga Canyon by myself, but I'd never done a hiking trip alone. I wanted to pick somewhere that I would be comfortable. I had gone to Banff a year before with my sister so I’d already done some of those hikes. They speak English, it's not far away, it felt incredibly safe.

I went for five days. It was the fall so it was snowy, beautiful, and peaceful. Sometimes when I realized I was really alone, you know, like nobody else on the trail for miles, I would think, okay, from a physical safety standpoint, I just need to be a little more aware and careful because I don't want to snap an ankle and have no one within shouting distance. Male or female, I think safety on the trail comes down to being savvy about your surroundings and your choices. Not that I always made the right one necessarily.

On the third day, I was at Harvey Pass. I knew there were bears in the area, and I was yelling out every now and again, just trying to alert them to my presence. I ran into some hikers who told me they saw a bear, so I asked to hike with them for a bit. Hikers, generally speaking, are pretty friendly, and open to chatting. But when it got late, I turned around to go back down alone.

Suddenly, maybe 30 to 40 feet off the trail, I saw a big ass Grizzly. Then all of a sudden, two other heads. They’re all standing there with their massive paws, and I thought, Oh, I'm gonna die. I was grabbing my bear spray, backing up. I couldn't tell you how long the encounter lasted, but eventually they took off, and I headed back.

It was nerve wracking, but I kept hiking. It’s peaceful out there, and incredibly empowering to realize that I can go on my own somewhere and have a really good time, enjoy it, be in the moment, and not be lonely or worried about somebody else. Once you make a summit that you thought you couldn't, there's very few feelings that are as satisfying.

Danielle Williams

Based in Washington, D.C., Williams is the founder of Melanin Base Camp and Diversify Outdoors.

When I started out hiking, I was not doing it alone. I was in the military for ten and a half years, and we don't call it hiking, we call it ruck marching. You don't do it for fun. To get out of the army and realize that there are people who are really excited about walking in the woods for long distances, and really enjoy it, and enjoy the mindfulness, that was very new for me.

Two or three years ago, I started getting more interested in hiking, but when I wanted to go never lined up with when my friends were available. I also have a chronic illness. It makes it really difficult to schedule things in advance with other people, because there's always a danger that when the date comes around, I just won't be able to do it. And so for me, going alone made more sense.

I was really excited because there were places I had wanted to hike for a long time, especially in the Roanoke area, and I had never done it because I thought I couldn't do them by myself. I enjoy the excitement of going online, on All Hikes, and finding semi-destination hikes that I can do. Part of the planning is asking, Am I comfortable doing this myself? And I usually am because even if I go alone, more likely than not, I do run into other people.

I'm visibly disabled, and I use elbow crutches, so one of two things happen when people see me: They think my elbow crutches are some type of advanced hiking polls (they're like, Oh, I should get those, which is kind of funny). Or they see somebody who's visibly disabled and I tend to get lots of encouragement. So yes, I'm a female who's alone, I'm also African American. I'm really tall. I get all kinds of reactions to people seeing me alone on the trail. Mostly they've been positive.

I'm a talker so I say hi to everybody I pass. Part of that is just being friendly, but you also tend to get more information that way. I love getting pictures, which is hard to do when you're alone, so that's another reason why I talk to everybody. And, you know, you end up forming connections with strangers, and hear interesting life stories. It’s fun meeting people who are local to the area who can point out like, hey, those are black snakes, but they won’t harm you. Or, hey, those are huckleberries, they’re really good, you should try them. It’s a little bit harder now with COVID. But I still enjoy the community.

I’m 34 and I kind of wish that I knew in my early 20s that, Hey, this is something you can do. You don't have to wait for someone else, necessarily, to enjoy your life or to have these experiences. A big lesson for me has been to not put my life on hold, but to go have these really cool adventures and meet interesting people along the way.