BACKPACKER LONG TRAILS

After slogging through miles of soft snow—sometimes falling in up to my waist—I reached a dry patch of grass at the end of a steep cliff looking down on a valley. I was in the South San Juan Wilderness, hiking at the end of May—a less than ideal season to be above 12,000 feet on the CDT. Three of my friends joined me in the respite from the snow: two Germans and a Spaniard.

“Can you believe it?” they asked each other, in English. Yes, it was beautiful, but there were other places like this. It wasn’t extraordinary. Yet the Europeans’ eyes were sparkling with an intense look usually reserved for a romantic meal in Paris.

“There’s no cell towers. No roads. No houses or lights,” the Spaniard explained to me. How foolish I was to take the view for granted. We Americans are so spoiled to have large swaths of landscapes and views that are wild.

When I’m hiking a long trail and haven’t seen another person for a while, sometimes I look around and pretend I’m an explorer seeing these great lands for the first time. Of course, this is silly—to begin with, someone built the trail I’m walking on. But that’s the magic of a long trail: to be able to walk relatively easily into a wild place and see landscapes that—aside from the trail—don’t have obvious signs of a human’s touch.

But even in these places—even in designated wildernesses—humans can impact the land. And sadly, the humans that do this are sometimes our fellow hikers. Graffiti, trash, and human waste on the trail immediately take the magic away from what is otherwise an enchanting place. And as hiker numbers go up, these occurrences are becoming more common.

Equally harmful is the impact of humans on the small communities near the trail. For many, the greatest healing power of hiking is walking into a trail town, meeting different people, and learning to accept the kindness of strangers. For those who have been neglected, abused, or otherwise hurt by others, it is healing and empowering to receive hospitality from those who seemingly have no reason to be kind. Yet as hiker numbers increase, a class of so-called entitled hikers are disrespecting local people, trashing up these treasured communities, and giving hikers a bad name.

Every long trail’s future depends on your actions—toward both the natural environment and other people. Those who work to build and maintain trails and protect our natural areas need to know that hikers are on their side. Good stewardship sends a clear message to land managers and communities that long-distance hikers are using the trails and our lands responsibly (and I can only hope they will see this and decide to give us more). This chapter is about how to become the best trail citizen you can be—perhaps the most important lesson in the whole book.

I don’t want to seem like Miss Manners or your nagging parent, but it’s important to remember that, even though we’re off in the wilderness, we’re still part of a community. And just as the world is a kinder, better place when we all follow etiquette rules in our normal lives (like not cutting in line at the bank), understanding the rules of behavior for the wilderness means you’re ready to be a positive citizen out there as well. I truly think that most of the time when someone acts improperly in the wilderness, it’s because they just don’t know any better. So it’s with complete faith in your courtesy and compassion that I dedicate this part of the book to what being a good trail citizen means. Please do take the time to reflect on these topics and take this stuff seriously—it impacts not just hikers now, but the future of hiking itself.

Leaving the woods a better place than you found them is always important, but even more so on a long-distance hike, especially on trails that see lots of hiker traffic, like the AT and PCT. That’s where following the principles of “Leave No Trace” travel are especially important. Thru-hikers have a responsibility to know, practice, and promote Leave No Trace principles. Set a good example by studying up at lnt.org and taking a Leave No Trace awareness workshop. For more details on each principle, visit www.Int.org. Leave No Trace also offers Awareness Workshops across the United States.

Here are the seven key guidelines of LNT as they apply to thru-hikers, with comments from Ben Lawhon, education director for the Leave No Trace Center for Outdoor Ethics, a nonprofit group dedicated to reducing recreational impact on the wilderness.

“An unprepared hiker creates a higher risk for impact,” explains Lawhon. “If you didn’t know you needed gaiters, you might trample vegetation to keep your boots dry instead of hiking through the puddles.” Call a ranger to learn about terrain, weather, and regulations.

Don’t hike with all your friends in a line. Split larger parties into groups of four to six and camp apart.

Repackage food to minimize waste that can fall out of your pack or get taken off by the wind.

Use a map and compass to eliminate the use of marking paint, rock cairns, or flagging.

“Durable surfaces rebound better than delicate ones,” says Lawhon. Hike on rock, sand, gravel, and established trails; avoid stream banks, cryptobiotic soil, and alpine plants.

Durable surfaces include established trails and campsites, rock, gravel, dry grasses, and snow.

Pack it in, pack it out. This phrase is used often in the outdoor world and means that any item you bring into the woods—from candy wrappers to toilet paper to that annoying tag on your hat—needs to go back to civilization with you.

Inspect your campsite and rest areas for trash or spilled foods. Pack out all trash—both yours and trash you discover—and leftover food. To wash yourself or your dishes, carry water 200 feet away from streams or lakes and use small amounts of biodegradable soap. Scatter strained dishwater. Deposit solid human waste in catholes dug 6 to 8 inches deep at least 200 feet from water, camp, and trails. Cover and disguise the cathole when finished. Pack out toilet paper and hygiene products. (We’ll talk more about those last two shortly.)

“Hikers can spread nonnative species, which is a huge cause of habitat destruction,” explains Lawhon. “By not taking plants or animals, and cleaning your boots before you leave the trailhead, you can make a difference.”

Preserve the past: examine, but do not touch, cultural or historic structures and artifacts. Leave rocks, plants, and other natural objects as you find them. Avoid introducing or transporting nonnative species. Do not build structures or furniture, or dig trenches.

Most thru-hikers rarely use fires. Failing to extinguish campfires properly can lead to forest fires. Don’t be that guy. “If fires are legal, use established rings, a mound, or a fire pan and gather only dead wood no thicker than your wrist,” says Lawhon. Campfires can cause lasting impacts to the backcountry. Instead, use a lightweight stove for cooking and enjoy a candle lantern for light. Where fires are permitted, use established fire rings, fire pans, or mound fires. Keep fires small. Only use sticks from the ground that can be broken by hand. Burn all wood and coals to ash, put out campfires completely, then scatter cool ashes.

“This is a safety issue,” says Lawhon. “Once a squirrel or a bear gets a taste for human foods, it actively seeks them out, which can lead to dangerous behavior.”

Observe wildlife from a distance. Do not follow or approach them. Never feed animals. Feeding wildlife damages their health, alters natural behaviors, and exposes them to predators and other dangers. Protect wildlife and your food by storing rations and trash securely. Control pets at all times, or—better yet—leave them at home. Avoid wildlife during sensitive times: mating, nesting, raising young, or in winter.

“This is the do-unto-others rule—yield to fellow hikers, keep noise levels down, and camp away from the trail,” says Lawhon. “Remember, we’re all trying to enjoy a finite resource.”

Be courteous. Yield to other users on the trail. Those going uphill have right of way (the rationale is that it is harder to get your momentum back if you stop on the uphill).

Step to the downhill side of the trail when encountering pack stock. Take breaks and camp away from trails and other visitors. Let nature’s sounds prevail. Avoid loud voices and noises. If you listen to music, podcasts, or books (and most thru-hikers do at some point), use headphones instead of your phone’s speakers or portable speakers.

If you must make a phone call, step away from the trail and keep your conversation short and quiet. Try texting whoever is calling you instead.

Yes, we just covered this in the “dispose of waste properly” LNT principle, but it deserves a special paragraph or two of its own. For many years, thru-hikers, especially those with an ultralight philosophy (myself included), did not carry potty trowels. The rationale was that you could dig a decent hole using gear you already were carrying. Recently, the potty trowel technology has gotten good enough that you can carry a trowel that weighs 0.4 ounce. (That’s what my trowel weighs.) Now many experienced thru-hikers are carrying trowels because it makes their lives easier. There is nothing worse than digging a bad hole when it’s already almost too late—except trying to dig that hole with a less-than-optimal tool.

Poorly buried poop has become a huge problem on the PCT now—especially in areas of the desert where a lot of people camp near water sources. It was a huge problem on the AT until the ATC installed privies. Don’t be part of the problem. Bury your poop well and carry out your toilet paper.

Wiping method and technique is a favorite topic of discussion for bored thru-hikers. I go into this thoroughly in the Peeing on Trail section (most women have to wipe twice as much as guys so that seemed like a good place to put it). For this section, though, I want to discuss packing out toilet paper. In many climates, especially the American West, TP doesn’t biodegrade quickly enough to simply bury it. There are just too many hikers for the ecosystem to sustain all that TP, and hikers keep pooping in the same places (usually near campsites near water), concentrating the used TP situation even more. Animals are digging up old catholes, further spreading used TP about. It’s just gross—and can easily be solved by packing it out.

Packing out toilet paper initially sounds disgusting, but becomes routine over time. I’ve found the easiest way to do it is by bringing Bark Bags, which are designed for dog owners to pick up their pet’s poop at parks. People are totally comfortable using the bags to pick up actual dog poop—so using them to pick up poopy toilet paper is even easier. I bring a new bag for each time I poop, collect the toilet paper, and tie off the bag letting out all the air. Then I put the tied off bag in my usual trash bag. The color of the bag keeps me from having to see the used toilet paper and it keeps my used toilet paper separate from my other trash (in case I discover I accidentally threw out something that I needed, like a map). This method is clean, quick, and sure beats trying to nudge used toilet paper into a trash bag with a stick like I had done for years before. The same Bark Bag method can be utilized for used tampons and pads. Many hikers find that paying for an extra trash bag in the form of Bark Bags is a waste of money (after all, technically any old bag will work), but, regardless of what bag you use, this system makes it easier to do the right thing.

There’s another area of LNT I want to expand on: the “be considerate of other visitors” principle and how it relates to cell phones. We go to the trail seeking remote wildness. Yet these days thru-hikers end up getting reception for hundreds of miles. Cell phones are great for safety, and it’s cool that we can live-blog and update our Instagram with photos from the trail. But using electronics (like phones) in the woods is a stark reminder that we increasingly have lost our truly wild places.

If you choose to use a cell phone—whether it’s to check your email, coordinate a ride from the trailhead, or update your blog—avoid doing so at places and times that will impact others. Consider keeping your phone on silent and opting for texting or silent app-based forms of communications over phone calls whenever possible.

Here’s one idea: Treat using the phone like taking a poop. Go away from the trail to do your electronic business. Be courteous to other hikers and keep your voice down.

When you’re on a long hike, you can derive such great pleasure from the simplest things: a can of soda, a warm shower, and a mattress in a bunk room. Long-distance hikers are so blessed to have friendly locals and businesses in many of our resupply towns who want to support hikers and provide those comforts.

But these locals and businesses have to cover their expenses to survive. Trail towns are usually located in less economically well-off areas where folks really can’t afford to be losing money. So it’s really important to remember that any kindness that comes your way—whether it’s a can of soda or a discount—is just that, a piece of kindness. It’s really easy for hikers to feel that just because they’ve accomplished something amazing, they deserve a special treat or reward. But the services and kindnesses we receive as hikers are not a right, they are a privilege that can be revoked. Every year, a hostel closes or a trail angel decides to stop hosting hikers—all because of entitled behavior from a few bad apples. According to the Appalachian Long Distance Hiking Association, bad hiker behavior closed four hostels on the AT just in 2015. This should be obvious, but as ALDHA says, just because you live in the woods doesn’t mean you need to act like an animal.

So how should a hiker act in town? A lot of this is common courtesy—say please and thank you and clean up any messes you create, even if they’re at hotels. Don’t sneak extra hikers into your hotel room—and don’t trash those rooms. Tip your servers 20 percent or more; after all, they had to put up with your smell and multiple orders of French fries for the past hour.

If you’re staying in the home of a trail angel—whether that person is listed in your guidebook or not—always leave a $20 donation to cover their water, laundry, electricity, gas, phone, and food bill. Offer to help with chores and always ask before smoking, drinking, or bringing your hiking dog in their home. Ask before doing things like drying your gear, throwing out trash, or charging electronics—different businesses and trail angels have different rules. Just because one trail angel let you do something does not mean another one will. Trail angels are doing you a favor, so fit yourself into their schedule—not the other way around. If you can afford a beer, you can afford to pay for the services these kind strangers are providing.

Lastly, if you see another hiker who is out of line, approach them and discuss how one person having a bad mouth and bad attitude can ruin the trail for other hikers for years. When we’re out there, we are all ambassadors of the hiking community, so please do your part to keep town services alive and well for years to come.

We’re not going to cover here every survival trick or outdoor skill you might possibly need in the outdoors. But there are some special considerations for thru-hikers you should definitely know and understand, and we’ll also point you to resources for learning more. And there’s good news: The trails most appropriate for beginning thru-hikers also tend to have lots of safety fallbacks, such as frequent bailout points and plenty of helpful, kind people going by. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t take responsibility for your own safety, but rest assured, on a popular long trail you’re hardly out there “alone."

Remember: On a thru-hike you have to live with wet gear and your cold self a lot longer than you would on a short hike, so it’s worth thinking about your rainy-time strategy with some foresight. On the AT, for example, it could rain every day for weeks. Depending on your hiking style, your tolerance for cold and being wet, your schedule, and the climate and local geography, you may expect to hike a lot in the rain or you may not have to hike in the rain at all. Here are some guidelines for deciding if you should power through or sit this storm out:

Temperature. If it’s 90°F out and raining, the water from the sky may be a welcome respite from the heat. I’m much more likely to hike in the rain if I’m feeling plenty warm.

Forecast. Is it supposed to rain for the next week, or will tomorrow be hot and sunny? If tomorrow’s weather looks good, you can walk through the rain and dry your gear tomorrow. Just remember to keep your sleeping system dry.

Proximity to town. If you were planning to head into town that day and are an hour or so away, go ahead and walk through the rain. Soon enough, you’ll be in a warm room with the heater cranked up.

Skill level, gear, and hiking companions. If you have proper gear, walking in even frozen rain is doable. You also need to have the proper skills and experience to know if you are becoming hypothermic. It helps to have another person with you in case something were to go wrong.

Stop and make sure your sleep system (sleeping clothes and bag) is dry and well protected, ideally in two ways (with a pack liner and maybe even a stuff sack if the weather looks nasty). It’s crucial that this gear stay dry no matter what. Make sure any other sensitive gear is protected from water. Put on rain gear and use an umbrella, if necessary. Keep your core warm and dry. If it is really bad and you are getting cold, consider these options.

Stop. Put up your shelter immediately, change into dry clothes, eat something (preferably hot and with a high fat content), and get in your sleeping bag. Getting in a few extra miles is not worth getting all your gear soaked and putting yourself in danger of hypothermia.

Find shelter. Put on your rain gear and keep hiking in the rain until you reach a shelter with a roof, a pit toilet, a picnic bench, or a tree with good branch coverage.

Book it to town. You may need to take a side trail. This is especially worthwhile if your gear (especially your sleeping bag) is already wet.

Make a fire. Most thru-hikers don’t make fires very often. But when things are really bad, that would be the time to responsibly make a fire and dry out your gear.

Pee. Your body wastes a lot of energy trying to keep urine warm. You’ll feel warmer after peeing, even if it means stepping outside of the tent for a minute.

Lightning is a real and scary risk in the backcountry, especially when you’re out in the open above treeline. It’s a particular concern on the Colorado Trail and the CDT. There’s nowhere truly safe to escape a lightning storm in the backcountry, merely better and worse options. Your best bet is to be in a uniform forest of tall trees. Your worst bet is to be high up in an unprotected area. On trails that cross large stretches of unprotected high country, like the AT in the White Mountains or the CDT and CT, you should be aware of weather patterns and plan your day as best as possible to avoid lightning. In Colorado in the summer, it’s good practice to start very early so that you can cross high country stretches or passes before the storms roll through, typically in the early afternoon.

If you do get caught in a lightning storm, here are some tips on how to minimize the possibility of a strike. Avoid stormy weather if you can: Check the weather forecast and get an idea of local weather patterns (e.g., does a storm always roll in at 4 p.m. here during the summer?). Plan your trip around the weather—especially if you know you will be going above treeline. This may involve waking up especially early to get up and over exposed areas before noon. It may also involve taking a zero (rest) day in town when the weather forecast in the mountains looks dangerous.

Keep alert: Check your maps early for bailout points—trails that will get you off exposed ridges if a weather storm were to come in. Be aware of signs that the weather is changing, such as when your arm hair stands up from static electricity in the air. Even when forecasters claim the weather will be good, systems are often unpredictable in the mountains. It’s better to use your senses than to rely on technology.

When to abandon ship and get out: When you see lightning, count the seconds until you hear thunder. Light travels faster than sound, which is why you can use this as a measurement to determine how far the strike is from you. If you count a number less than 30, get low and off the ridge immediately—even if you need to get off the trail and go cross-country to do so. Pay special note where you came from though. At 30 seconds, lightning is 6 miles away. But because weather can move quickly, it behooves you to head lower right away. When the weather improves, you don’t want to get lost returning to the trail.

How to bail: Get below treeline, but find an area that does not have lone trees, such as areas with low bushes. Lightning generally strikes the highest object in an area (think of weathervanes on houses designed to prevent lightning strikes on roofs). To avoid a strike, get as low on the mountain as you can, and as low to the ground as you can reasonably get in lightning position (more on this below). If you are hiking with others, space yourselves at least 100 feet apart to avoid lightning arcing from one person to another.

Get into lightning position: Crouch and minimize the amount of surface area of your body touching the ground. Ball yourself up and keep your feet together. This reduces the negative effects of ground current. Wrap your arms around your legs to allow electrons to flow from the ground through your arms instead of your torso, keeping you safer if a strike were to occur. This also helps you stay in a crouch longer. If you’re getting too tired to squat, though, it’s better to sit than lie flat on the ground. While scientists agree that lightning position reduces the potential bad effects of a strike, they still argue whether it will actually reduce your chance of being struck.

Avoid natural features that attract lightning: Unfortunately, often the lowest point in an area is near water—which conducts electricity and can harm you during a strike. Keep a distance of at least 100 feet from lakes, puddles, and ponds. Before you are tempted to take refuge in a cave or rock outcropping, you should know that lightning can also create an electric arc that bridges gaps. You should avoid the temptation to take shelter under boulders and rock formations—or in sheds or under picnic tables. Should you be lucky enough to make it below treeline, avoid taking shelter under the biggest trees, too.

Ditch your metal gear: Metal conducts electricity. Place your metal gear 100 feet away from you. Metal gear includes framed packs, jewelry, belts, ice axes, cooking gear, etc. Remove crampons and place then away from you if doing so will not jeopardize your stability on the terrain.

Wait it out and resume hiking 30 minutes after the last lightning strike you’ve heard or seen, as electrical charges can linger in clouds after storms.

For more information on lightning, read NOAA’s Lightning Safety website or the NOLS Backcountry Lightning Safety Guidelines.

As we discussed in the route planning and resupply sections (see chapters 4 and 5), there are often times on a thru-hike where hitchhiking is your best option for getting to a town. Check local regulations before hitchhiking—in some states, hitchhiking is illegal. Hitchhiking may be illegal on certain types of roads or inside certain town limits.

It’s understandable to have some hesitation about hitchhiking—even in places where it’s legal. A thru-hike might very well be the first time you’ve ever even considered such a thing. If you feel unsafe hitchhiking, it can be avoided, but it’s logistically difficult, as you’ll have to arrange rides in remote areas at unpredictable times. If you choose to try it, rest assured that it’s scarier in theory than in practice.

Thru-hikers have endless discussions about the best tips for hitchhiking. Here are a few that work for me:

• Never hitchhike in states or in areas where it is illegal. Check local regulations before you head off. This is no joke. I know personally multiple hikers who have been harassed by the local cops.

HIKE YOUR OWN HIKE

HOW I EMBRACED HITCHHIKING

Kate “Drop ’N Roll” Hoch, who hiked the PCT in 2011 and CDT in 2013, explains how her views of hitchhiking evolved.

I grew up as a goody two-shoes who did everything to please her parents. Hitchhiking was not really on my radar as a possibility. The summer before hiking the PCT, I hiked a short section on the AT with a friend who had hiked the entire AT a few years earlier. Rather than set up a car shuttle, she insisted that we’d be just fine hitchhiking back to our car. I trusted her judgment, and I was actually excited about it. We very quickly got picked up by a woman in a pickup truck with a dog. She dropped us off in town, no problem. We got some ice cream, stuck out our thumbs, and again got picked up, this time by an older couple who were vacationing in the area. Both of the rides that we got were from the type of people I didn’t envision picking up hitchhikers. They were normal people. They didn’t have shotguns in their backseats. It was just totally fine. They were just interested in what we were doing. That experience gave me a lot of confidence to hitchhike in the future. I still try to avoid hitchhiking alone, but I have hitchhiked alone, and it’s been fine. Being a woman just makes it easier to get picked up.

—Kate “Drop ’N Roll” Hoch

• If you get cell reception, try calling local hostels or hotels and seeing if you can pay for pick-up instead of hitchhiking. Patronize their business afterwards to show thanks.

• If you get cell reception, let family or friends know where you are and where you are headed. Turn on satellite trackers so they can follow your safe progress to town. Check in after you make it to town to let them know you have made it safely.

• If I am at a trailhead, I will ask people parked there (especially if they look like they have been day hiking) about where they are going and whether they could give me a ride. I always offer to pay them.

• Be a woman or hitchhike with one—people are more likely to pick up female hitchhikers.

• Hitchhike with another person. This may slightly decrease your chances of getting a ride, but it makes you both safer.

• Hitchhike in a place with a lot of visibility (so drivers have time to react).

• Don’t wear sunglasses or a hat when hitching, so that drivers can see your eyes.

• Try to make yourself look nice: Wash your face, run your hands through your hair, put on your town/sleep clothes or a puffy jacket or rain jacket.

• Make yourself smell nice: Give yourself a sponge bath or put on sunscreen to try to mask your hiker scent.

• Have your pack and gear ready to go—drivers don’t want to wait for you to pack up your gear.

• Observe the driver and passengers and make sure you feel safe before you enter the car. Trust your gut and don’t feel bad about turning down a ride after you’ve seen the driver. Never get in a car with a driver who appears intoxicated or under the influence.

• If your driver wants to discuss religion, politics, or any other awkward subject, humor them (at least if the conversation feels harmless). Who knows? I’ve learned some of the most fascinating things about our country and its people from my hitchhikes.

Hikers are more often concerned about being mauled by bears than they are of the real danger—that bears will be accustomed to hikers’ food and as a result, be killed. Safe travel and food storage is as much about keeping bears safe as it is about you, and with some common sense, advanced preparation, and knowledge about the area you’re in, you’ll be a lot safer traveling through these areas. To prevent an encounter:

Don’t hike alone through serious grizzly country. Bears are less likely to attack groups than individuals. Parks Canada suggests that in peak grizzly season and dense habitat, groups should include 4 people minimum (and in some extreme cases, 6 people).

Make noise. For real. Bells are a nice thought, but loud conversation or singing will better alert bears to your presence. Given the opportunity, most bears will avoid a human encounter.

Carry pepper spray in grizzly territory. Keep it handy and know how to use it. Wait until a charging bear is within 60 feet, then sweep the spray to create a cloud at ground level. Bear spray is like pepper spray except with width and power more attuned to a fire extinguisher. Depending on the brand you use, it can shoot 25–40 feet. According to the Interagency Grizzly Bear Committee (IGBC) it should last for at least 6 seconds. Studies have shown that bear spray is significantly more effective in reducing rates of injuries from charging bears that carrying a gun (depending on the study, bear spray success is 90 percent versus firearm—only success is 50 percent of the time).

Be scent-smart. Store food in bear canisters, an Ursack, or hang it properly. Avoid fragrance-heavy shampoos and hygiene products; they smell just like food. Never, ever preemptively fire pepper spray around your tent; it’s like marinating your campsite. Do not spray it onto another human’s body. This does not work like insect repellent.

Stay vigilant. Paying attention to terrain features can give you an advantage: If you come to a section of trail with recent evidence of bears (such as scat or overturned stumps), make extra noise. Give bears a chance to hear you and flee before their protective instincts kick in.

• Making yourself really big by waving your arms works too. You want to scare the bear away and show it that you aren’t afraid of it.

• Don’t run. Bears are fast. A black bear can run up to 35 miles per hour. Grizzlies can reach up to 30 mph. The fastest human speed ever? About 27.44 miles per hour by Olympic sprinter Usain Bolt.

• Don’t climb. Climbing a tree is a poor idea. Bears love to climb, and they are good at it. At the very least, they are better at it than you. Basically, running or climbing shows weakness and fear, something a bear will literally feed off of.

• Use bear spray. Bear spray is like a combination of mace on steroids and a fire extinguisher. As mentioned earlier it’s been proven to be more effective against grizzly bears than using a gun. Follow the directions on your bear spray to determine distance and where you should aim it. And avoid getting any of the bear spray on yourself or other people—it burns.

• Play dead. Lie face down with your pack on, spread your legs (so it can’t roll you), and protect your neck and head with your hands.

• Fight. If a grizzly starts to feed or you’re attacked by a black bear, you have to fight. Go for the nose, eyes, and ears. Give it your all.

Being female on the trail isn’t really that different—except for when it is. Some of this advice—especially the safety advice—is important for all hikers. No matter what gender you identify with, I suggest at least skimming this section.

I’ve hiked thousands of miles as a solo woman. It’s really okay for women to hike alone (well, as okay as it is for any gender). The chances of getting attacked in the wilderness are much lower than the chances of being attacked in civilization. That said, there are still some smart precautions you can take to help stay safe and healthy.

Regardless of your gender, you need to let folks at home know that you are okay—especially if they have been instructed to call search and rescue if you don’t communicate for a while. Remember that someone at home should have your itinerary and be expecting you to check in. On most major trails, a cell phone can be used to communicate with the outside world about every five to seven days. If that isn’t often enough, or you or a loved one is very worried, consider getting a satellite communicator, like a SPOT or DeLorme (now Garmin) InReach. These devices give you a way to communicate with the folks back home every night and tell them you are okay. All models have an emergency button that should contact search and rescue from any location. Some models will allow people at home to track where you are on a map on their computer. With the DeLorme, you can even text the outside world from the middle of nowhere. Sometimes the hardest part about being a woman on the trail is how much friends and family back home will be worrying about you (unfairly—I suspect that many people would worry less about a man doing the same trip).

Don’t camp near roads. I avoid staying at campsites or shelters within 1 mile of a road. I don’t have a ton of evidence on this, but my logic is that if someone’s going to cause trouble, they’re likely not going to bother hiking too far to do it.

Keep your location private. Delay your social media updates and resist the temptation to real-time update your location or sweet campsite to the world.

Hit roads in daylight. Avoid parts of a trail or route that involve road-walking during the night.

Use your trail community. Other people on the trail become your family and will go to extreme lengths to help you if you go missing or if someone is giving you a hard time.

Learn the facts. Realize that while safety from human predators might feel like a big priority, it’s really not a primary concern on most trails in the United States.

In many of the clinics I teach, women take me aside and meekly ask, “Can you tell me about women’s hygiene?” It seems like these issues are often treated like something to be discussed in backrooms and in whispers instead of in print in a book—maybe because so many books are written by men. But we’re addressing this issue head-on here.

Many women find that their period stops or becomes less heavy or doesn’t last as long during a thru-hike. For some women, it can also become less predictable on a thru-hike—so be prepared, even when you don’t think you have anything to worry about. If you’re using a menstrual cup, you should shop around for one that is the right fit for you. Most companies offer “before you’ve given birth” and “after you’ve given birth” options, and even then, depending on your anatomy, some cups may work better for you than others. Test out your cup for at least one cycle before your trip to get the hang of how to use it and how to get it in and out of your body (believe me, you don’t want to figure that out on the trail). Follow directions on the box, especially regarding keeping it clean. Definitely don’t use a cup if it is painful. Do your research in advance, because only a few companies allow you to return a used one if you are dissatisfied.

Hygiene Rules

Follow these women’s backcountry hygiene rules from a wilderness doctor to stay clean and healthy on your next backpacking trip.

The Expert: Luanne Freer, MD, is the founder and director of Everest ER, a nonprofit medical clinic at Mount Everest Base Camp.

Let it flow. Holding your pee could cause a urinary tract infection. Make sure you go whenever you feel the urge. Also not okay: drinking less water in order to avoid peeing.

Change into dry clothes. You might not mind lingering after hiking in the rain, but your body does. Damp or wet clothes can lead to a yeast infection.

Wipe smart. If you’re using natural wiping materials, try using two, one for the back and one for the front, to make sure that you don’t get fecal matter where it shouldn’t be.

Wear wool undies. Wool is naturally odor-resistant and pulls moisture away from your skin. It’s ideal to have fresh underwear every day. Dr. Freer recommends choosing one of the following: bringing one pair and washing them daily, bringing a pair for every day you are out, or somewhere in between—it depends on how you feel about backcountry laundry. In 2015, BACKPACKER ran a survey where very few of the respondents reported that they’d carry a fresh pair of undies every day for a seven-day trip. Most female thru-hikers carry extra pairs.

Never use antibacterial soap on your body. This kills both the good and bad bacteria, which makes it difficult to fight infections. For backcountry bathing, try biodegradable wipes.

Prevent chafing. Moisture plus friction leads to painful, abraded skin. Thru-hikers use lubricants like Body Glide, Gold Bond, Anti-Monkey Butt Powder, and Vagisil in problem areas.

Some women opt to use tampons or sanitary pads in the backcountry. If you go this route, you need to pack out all your used hygiene products. If you don’t want to see them in your clear trash bag, you can always wrap them in a ramen or granola bar wrapper first. I’d recommend the same Bark Bag method for packing out used toilet paper described in the Scoop on Poop section. Just like at home, clean your hands (ideally with treated water and biodegradable soap, but hand sanitizer or wet wipes will work in a pinch) before and after switching out your cup, tampon, or pad. If you’re wondering, research has shown that being on your period in the woods does not attract bears or lions.

A lot of women ask me questions in clinics I teach about how to pee in the woods (or more specifically, how to wipe after peeing). The more I have discussions with other women, the more I realize there is no one right way to do it. Here are a few methods that work for me or for other female thru-hikers I know:

Air Dry: This is the method I use and find many experienced female thru-hikers use. It involves crouching and wiggling to drip dry and break some surface tension. It involves the least gear and works well for ultralight hikers, though it can lead to a scent and residue and is definitely not for everyone.

Pee rag: It’s exactly what it sounds like: a bandana or other lightweight cloth to use in lieu of toilet paper after peeing. We know, sounds gross. But it won’t smell, and if you tie it to the outside of your pack, it’ll be dry by the next time nature calls. “Many viruses and bacteria [on the rag] can be inactivated by exposure to heat and by drying,” explains Paul Auerbach, MD, author of Wilderness Medicine. Wash the rag every few days—but always at least 200 feet from a water source and never directly in a water source. Pee is sterile and UV from the sun can help disinfect. Choose a pee rag with different colors on each side so that you always grab from the “clean” side and always wipe from the “dirty” side. Whatever you do, only use this for number 1, not number 2.

Natural Wiping Material: Use wide, soft leaves as you would for wiping after number 2 (watch out for poison ivy). Sticks (the long way) and smooth stones are great for breaking surface tension. Snow is . . . refreshing. It’s also a great way to clean yourself.

Backcountry Bidet: Amanda discusses this method in her gear list, but we will summarize it here. Fill a small (1–2 ounces) goo tube with clean water (some add a drop of two of biodegradeable soap—any scent but Peppermint). Squeeze onto yourself to clean. Use your non-dominant hand for extra cleaning (soap and hand sanitizer will help keep your hand clean afterwards). Blot with a pee rag or air dry.

Toilet paper: In a recent BACKPACKER survey of more than 1,000 female hikers and backpackers, more than half said they use toilet paper when peeing in the woods. That number shocked us, because frankly, we can’t quite figure out why. Toilet paper should not be buried because it takes a heck of a lot of time to decompose (especially in dry areas). Plus if you’re just peeing, you’re not going to dig a hole, right? And it’s definitely not OK to just leave toilet paper in the woods (and TP used for pee is far more common to find on the trail than TP used for poo). That leaves packing it out, which for weight-conscious backpackers, seems like a totally unnecessary pain in the behind. Still, I have at least one very experienced partner who swears by TP. She’s very prone to UTIs and says wiping with clean TP is the only way she has found to prevent infection. To expedite packing it out, she uses the Bark Bag method to pack out used toilet paper (described in the Scoop on Poop section on page 250).

Wet Wipe/Shop Cloth: Far more common for use on cleaning up after pooping than peeing, this heavy duty wiping material will definitely need to be packed out but can feel refreshing and gets the job done with less material. Some people dehydrate their Wet Wipes or use pre-dehydrated Wysi Wipes instead.

Female Urination Device: How about not needing to wipe at all—or even drop trou? Enter FUDs, which are anatomically designed funnels that let women pee standing up almost as easily as a guy can. There are about a dozen brands out there. Look for a design that has no parts to lose and has boil-proof plastic. Find a FUD that sits securely against your body and gives confidence you’ve got it positioned correctly. For any FUD, make sure to practice at home in the shower, and know it might take a while to get used to going this way. Unlike outdoor activities with limited drop-your-pants mobility like bigwall rock climbing or mountaineering, I personally don’t understand why a woman would need one of these devices and have never used one. Nonetheless, a small but dedicated group of long distance hiking ladies swear by them.

Some long-haired folk bring a comb, while others leave their hair in braids for days. I usually throw my hair in a topknot and ignore it—only dealing with it when I’m in town. What you do with your hair—and your face—depends a lot on how much you care about looking and feeling good in the woods. Many hikers (male and female) will give themselves a sponge bath every night (remember: never dip your sponge directly in a water source and wash up at least 200 feet from water). Others wipe themselves—or at least their faces—down with wet wipes every night. Some people can’t live without their moisturizer or mascara. Whatever you take to clean and groom, if that will make or break your hike, then by all means, bring some with you (ideally, in a small container). Like almost any item you may want to bring on the trail—if you’re not going to be happy without it, you should bring it so you can more fully enjoy the outdoors. Just make sure you follow Leave No Trace rules (including keeping soap out of water sources).

For me, the best thing about being outdoors is not having to care. I just embrace being dirty. It may not give me the most attractive Instagram photos, but I’m not out there to show others what I’m doing. I’m out there to live my hike.

While the majority of thru-hikers are in their 20s and 30s, the second most common group is hikers living their post-retirement dream. The freedom that comes with retirement means that plenty of folks over 50 attempt—and complete—long hikes as well. Compared to young people, retirees may find that their muscles take longer to build or heal after injury. It’s worth paying special attention to make sure you don’t get injured in the first place. Older bodies have a different metabolism than young folks. Here’s some special advice for hikers over 50 that will help get your body performing decades younger.

Starting at age 50 age-related muscle loss sarcoponia starts ocurring. But exercise and training can almost give you younger muscle mass, especially with vitamin K and calcium-rich food. On the trail, all hikers’ bodies tend to need more vitamins and minerals than they would otherwise need in a sedentary life. If there are supplements that you take in real life (or should be taking), be sure to take them on the trail as well. By age 70, total body water decreases by about 8 percent, which increases the risk of dehydration, heatstroke, and hypothermia. The fix: On trail days, drink, at minimum, your body weight in ounces (150 pounds = 150 ounces), even more on hot days. Average thru-hikers easily go through 6 quarts a day.

When it comes to gear, going light is always important, but that’s even truer for less resilient older bodies. Pay special attention to trimming your load. Older hikers tend to have lower metabolisms so get cold more easily. Be sure to bring adequate layers and a warm sleeping system. As you age, you lose fat in the one place you want it: your feet. Make up for lost cushion and increase comfort with extra-padded socks and aftermarket insoles. When it comes to specialized gear for older hikers, I have two words for you: hiking poles. They’re proven to help reduce impact on your ankles, knees, and hips.

Older bodies can’t repair injuries as well as younger ones. The best solution is to avoid getting injured in the first place by pacing yourself well and listening to your body. Much like in “real life,” older hikers are more susceptible to heart attacks, including on thru-hikes. Hikers like to say, “It’d happen if he were sitting in an office, too. At least he went doing what he loved.” You should still know the signs of heart attacks before you go, though, and have a plan for what to do in case of emergencies (including discussing medication with your doctor, having a will in place). Skin thins with age, and your ability to heal wounds decreases. That makes open cuts more susceptible to infection, especially in the backcountry. If you do get a cut, flush, clean, and treat the wound promptly and thoroughly. And make sure to slather on the SPF 40 sunscreen, especially at altitude.

Two of my older clients shared advice they got from their doctor before starting their first thru-hike. Because older bodies take longer to repair, these hikers take two to three days off in each town to let their bodies recuperate, regenerate, and heal. While it ends up making the hike a lot longer (they are section hikers who cherry-pick the best seasons for walking), this tends not to be a problem for them. This couple also sleeps 10 hours per night to give their body maximum time to heal between days of doing nothing but walking. Their trick seems to work. They say they never feel tired or injured on the trail (despite doing this for years). Maybe this is great advice for hikers of all ages.

Remember to call home. Older hikers tend not to update on social media as much as younger hikers, and family members get worried. If family members are skeptical about you going out, consider carrying a SPOT or DeLorme InReach satellite messenger, so you can communicate with the folks back home every night and tell them you are okay. These devices track your GPS location on a map and send that information via satellite to the Internet. Your movement and position are shown on a map to those who want to follow your progress. You can set a password so only your loved ones can find where you are, or make it public so all your fans can follow along on your trip from their desk. You can decide how often you want to send out your location, updating every minute or just updating when you want others to know where you are, like at your campsite each night.

With the Delorme InReach, for a subscription fee, you can even two-way text message with loved ones from the middle of nowhere. If the folks at home are super concerned, this is way cheaper and lighter than a satellite phone. Before you go: Make sure you know how to use it and your family members know how to check up on you.

If you do have family that is concerned, invite them for some training hikes or encourage them to visit you on the trail. Share your itinerary with them and get them excited about your trip. Show them before you leave how physically and logistically prepared you are for your adventure.

+SAFETY, ETIQUETTE, AND SPECIAL CONCERNS