man hiking alone

Hiking your own hike, physically, mentally, emotionally.

There is a saying in the hiking community that is so true: ” Hike your own hike.” This basically means hiking in the way you want and need. It can change, and you may need to adapt, especially during a long-distance hike. You hike with an intention, and you follow it, not someone else’s plan. You hike too fast to keep up, and you injure yourself; you walk slower for someone else, and you become frustrated. 

The same goes for hiking gear. There can be much pressure to have the right gear and the right weight on your back when actually there isn’t. How many people never begin a hike because they don’t have the “right” boots or sleeping bag? My brother-in-law and nephew hiked over 400 km over 3 years in $40 Kmart hiking boots that did not break and had no blisters. 

Ultralight-weight hiking gear is useful for people who need it or choose to carry as little as possible, and others who choose not to are driven mad by hikers who ram it down their throats. I acknowledge that there is a level of blockage on my part, or positive for me, but a multiday hike does not feel right unless it pushes my limits and makes me work for it. Carrying more weight or gear that pushes the boundaries of practicality builds great resilience inside of you and may also increase your chance of injury. 

I learnt all of this firsthand in 2016 when I began a 1000 km Bibbulmun Track end-to-end with only the gear I knew and could afford at the time: a 2-person 2.7kg tent and a synthetic sleeping bag I bought at half-price that was not warm enough for the minus-degree mornings around Collie. As I left Kalamunda, I was carrying 24 kg. By Pemberton, I lost 15 kg in 3 weeks and was experiencing daily dizzy spells. In those 3 weeks, I hiked 80% of the way by myself, including at the campsites. But I had been hiking, my own hike. 

I intended to hike this thing if it was the last thing I did following the end of my 20-year marriage: my very unhealthy weight, zero fitness and burnt-out brain. The so-called wrong gear became my right gear.

The mental, physical, and emotional benefits of multiday hiking are extraordinary; the beautiful scenery is a bonus. It became my hiking mantra. Over those two months on the trail, at 48 years old, I lost 19 kg by the time I reached the end in Albany. The average hiker loses around 11 kg, but you have to have it to lose it.

Work out your intention for the hike, then research, plan, and prepare accordingly. Control what you can prepare with the information you have, and then let it go and walk. 

It does not mean you don’t take advice from others wiser than yourself.

“Learn how to hike comfortably, 4 km per hour, including breaks, 20 km in one day, with a 17 kg backpack. Then you hike, eat, sleep, repeat.” When I knew almost nothing and was completing my second overnight hike, a 72-year-old man who was in the middle of 12 months of training for his second end-to-end gave me this magnificent yet simple advice: change it through choice and necessity. 

Hike your hike responsibly, which means considering other people’s right to do the same, following authority guidelines and accepting the consequences. What may seem like a good idea is your right not to carry a tent or shelter on the Bibb because the trail has huts, to arriving at a campsite and making others feel guilty because they have their spot in the hut. A snorer is keeping you up at night, but you have no other option, so you complain. If something goes wrong during the day, you won’t reach the campsite; you get yourself lost, and now there is an expectation of being rescued. Carry or not to carry an emergency device. Consider every consequence of your decisions.      

During my end-to-end hike, I met a middle-aged lady from Hungary who loved taking the entire day to reach the next campsite. There was another reason, which I discovered later. She averaged 3 km per hour. She also experienced a high level of social anxiety and pitched her tent away from the hut and other hikers. This decision and action were her intention to place her in the best position to complete her 1000 km quest, which she did. The other reason for hiking all day was less opportunity for other hikers to want to socialise at the campsite.

I have worked in disability and mental health mentoring for many years. Resilience, independence, and empowerment play big parts in my business and my life. They say hiking longer distances is 90% mental; I’d have to agree. Even before you begin the 1000 km journey on the Bibb, you may have to deal with financial, work, and family responsibilities and expectations. If you begin with these over your head, mentally and emotionally, hiking your hike can be a struggle. I experienced this myself; it almost caused me to walk off the trail a third into my hike. But I hesitantly and gratefully accepted support from my family. If you are hiking end-to-end for personal growth or healing like myself, it brings the term hiking your hike to a new level. Before I departed, I spoke to my GP, Psychologist and an Exercise Physiologist. 

In most cases, your family, friends, and boss will not understand your drive to hike for 60 days, have one shower a week, and risk your life (they think), but it’s okay to live a life that others don’t understand, even your parents, kids, and boss.

Hiking is always authentic. You can research every step of a trail and how to prepare physically with the perfect food and gear, but in the end, you will experience the journey in whatever way you want until the hike has other plans.  

The most interesting end-to-end hikers I meet without judgment are the ones who do it their way; they break the hiking mould if there is one. A guy with broken boots and no shoelaces. Another older guy was carrying and eating one very big bag of two-minute noodles that would last him weeks, and that was all he was eating. A lady would stop for lunch and nap on the trail for an hour or two under a tree before continuing to the campsite. 

I met a guy hiking south-north who parked his campervan in Albany. He had heard of the Bibbulmun Track and intended to walk the four days to Denmark, the first town going North. He never had the intention to continue, so his campervan was parked on the side of the road. He was using a $30 tent and sleeping bag from Kmart and enough food for 4 days. He decided on the spot in Denmark to continue to Walpole, the next town; he continued and completed his end-to-end with the same gear he started with, except for buying a fleece and rain jacket along the way.

Hiking for a week with a group of beautiful people you meet along the trail and deciding to either fall behind or walk ahead can be one of the more challenging decisions you will make. I once met a hiker in her 20s who had just completed her end-to-end with a guy she had fallen in love with during the hike. She decided to follow his journey instead of her own; she imagined a future life together with this two-month hike as the grounding of their relationship. Two days after completing the hike, he jumped on a plane, and she never saw him again. I wanted to know how she would later reflect on this Bibbulmun Track nightmare, which was supposed to be the solo life-transforming experience it intended to be.  

Except for when I lead a group of teens, which I love doing, I tend to hike alone during the day. I have respect for couples and small groups who can hike after hike, and over 1000 km, I’m not sure I could. 

Whether your hike takes 30 days or 68 days, you carry 12 kg or 20 kg of gear from Paddy Pallin or Kmart. Be safe, responsible for others, and hike your own hike.      

  

 

 

 

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