A post on female hiker safety and why you should not be afraid to go out there on your own.
I’ve created this post as part of my Pacific Crest Trail planning series, although the content is not PCT-specific. It’s applicable to any trail of any length in any country. If you’re a woman and worried about backpacking on your own, then this blog is for you!
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You are reading:
• Safety for Female Hikers
Also part of this series:
• PCT Questions Part 1: Planning
• PCT Questions Part 2: Trail Life
• Food and Resupply Strategy
• How to get the B-2 Visa
• My 2019 PCT Gear List
• Daily PCT blogs
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• What could happen on trail
• … compared to living in the city
• My experiences of being terrified when backpacking alone in Tasmania
• The biggest issue is dealing with fear itself and letting it hold you back
• Taking self-defence classes
• My experiences in Iceland
• When hitchhiking is part of the trail
• Breaking this down into some practical advice
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Safety is a concern that every woman has ingrained in her mindset and it keeps a lot of women from doing things that are unfamiliar. Heading into the outdoors alone is certainly one of those things. Our worry is largely the usual – bears, dodgy water sources and not bringing enough M&Ms. General safety concerns. But this is not a post that discusses the universal backcountry risks – on learning how to navigate, know what animals live in the woods and how to deal with weather conditions. This post won’t discuss what gear you need to keep you safe. It’s about female safety specifically, and how to deal with the one thing we have learned to fear most: men.
Unfortunately, for good reason. This world and humankind is not as evolved as people often assume, especially when we are living under this guise of what we call the ‘modern world’. There is a lot of violence, and as women we are all too aware of being a target when walking home alone.
And so we take these fears with us into the outdoors. Because what if, what if. People around us fear for us and question women going outside alone. To me, the premise that men can go outdoors without question but women can’t – is insane. Hence this post. Because you shouldn’t let anyone convince you that you can’t. Now male violence is a much larger issue that we are not going to solve in this post. While our fears and precautions are real and very valid, I also want to help you put them into perspective. I don’t want them to influence your decision to go outdoors. I want women to go wild and roam free and chase their dreams, whatever they may be.
My aim for this post is to share my personal experiences – how I got introduced to hiking, the fear I felt during my first hikes and how I decided to deal with it so I can now go out and hike happily. I hope you’ll read this and fear less.
What could happen on trail
Crazy people hide in the woods. We’ve all heard the stories and they really do exist. We’ve probably seen a movie about it or read some news articles. And people love to tell them to us when they find out about our plans. When I walked around Tasmania (my very first long hike) a woman stopped me on the road to tell me about a madman who had been murdering hikers in the area I was headed to. He was only found when a hiker managed to escape. (Thanks for telling me this, lady.) I’m sure most of us have heard about the recent murders on the Appalachian Trail. Often these horrific stories include hikers being followed back to the trail after visiting town. Yes, these stories are real, and these things do happen. But they become headlines for a reason – it’s not a common occurrence.
… compared to living in the city
Most people in the outdoors are just like you and me. Hikers who enjoy nature, breathing in fresh air, scaling mountains. Many will be excited when seeing another human and stop for a trail side chat. These people are the ones that dominate the trail. They are not axe murderers who have gone out into the wild where there are hardly any people so they can hunt down a desired specimen and chop them down. Most people with aggressive tendencies live in cities. Cities, where murder rates are much higher and where you can also get hurt from getting hit by a car, carbon monoxide poisoning, stress… Cities are where you and I feel unsafe. In fact, safety issues on trail arise when you get close to a town or camp close to a road. The farther you’re out into the backcountry, the safer you are.
My experiences of being terrified when backpacking alone in Tasmania
My introduction to hiking and wild camping came out of the blue. I didn’t grow up hiking. My parents were avid cyclists and we would usually go on a summer holiday with the bikes strapped to the top of the car. Cycling so much made me less interested in it, but it wasn’t until I took a break from my regular life in London that I got introduced to real hiking. I was travelling around East Asia when I did my first hike. I hiked up Mt Hallasan on Jeju Island in South Korea. I took the earliest bus to the trailhead and by the time I went down again, scores of Koreans were going up. While I hadn’t been enjoying the other touristy things I did, hiking was a real exploration in my eyes. An integration. I started looking up more hikes and when I found out you could stay at mountain huts and do multiple day routes, I was immediately determined to do so. My second hike was a two day furore into Seoraksan National Park. And I was hooked.
Perhaps it was luck that I started out hiking in a country that’s so inherently safe. Koreans love hiking, and they seemed so happy to see a foreigner enjoying their mountains. I was in awe of the views (I’m still longing to go back and hike the Baekdu Daegan Trail) and I didn’t need to worry about running into crazy people. After that I did a few short trails in Japan, where all I needed to worry about were brown bears and bad weather conditions.
And that’s when I met someone who was thru-hiking, and the whole idea of a long distance hike baffled and intrigued me so much that I decided I had to do the same thing. This turned into my first experience of hiking around Tasmania, which ended up taking 2.5 months. I started the hike with another person, someone who had a lot more experience. I changed all my travel gear to hiking gear and we got a tent together. And you know what, walking and camping around Tasmania didn’t worry me at all – I was with someone else. We were safe. But it only took a week for everything to fall apart and I was left on my own, wondering what to do. I ended up buying my own tent and I continued the journey, alone. And this is when everything changed, because I was terrified.
When I say terrified, I mean terrified. The chosen route included a huge amount of gravel road, some highways and sections of actual hiking trails. Those long, sizzling, empty gravel roads were the worst – I was scared when I was out there all alone, and then I was scared when a lone car appeared and passed me. I felt so unbelievably vulnerable – anything could happen to me and no one would even know that I’d been gone for days. I spent a lot of time during the day dealing with these fears (and the physical pain from my ever-throbbing feet.)
When I hit the north coast I walked long sections along the main road. I remember passing a parked truck driver who called out to me (truck driver! Scary! Take cover!) and he told me he’d been passing me walking along this road for days now, and wished me all the best. I felt such relief to hear that someone so unexpected only had good intentions. But my fear didn’t dissipate. When I hit the west coast there was a long road with hardly any cars and whenever someone did drive by, I held my heart tight.
But the days weren’t my worst worry. Finding camping spots was my biggest concern. During my first night camping alone, I was woken by something crashing into my tent. I was paralysed with fear. I thought drunk men were falling all over my tent and I thought the worst was going to happen. It took me a long time to dare to move and I opened my tent, finding an angry animal glaring back at me. Only a few days later I set up in a paid campsite right in town, when a motorcyclist who was part of a larger group, started talking to me. He terrified me. That night I tied the strings on my tent’s zipper together so it couldn’t be opened from the outside and I kept the tiny scissors I travel with close to me. I cried all night. I was at my wit’s end – if I couldn’t even camp in a safe, paid campsite on my own, how in the world was I going to walk around the entire island?
Finding safe camp spots became my main focus during that trip. Tasmania is littered with free campsites – areas where anyone is allowed camp, often without any amenities, sometimes with very basic ones. Often you can find people who have taken up permanent residence in these sites, which makes the whole place a little uncomfortable. I would search these campsites thoroughly before setting up – selecting the ones that weren’t too busy or too empty. I’d try to camp close to families and steered away from solo men. I would circle around for ages and still feel unsure and get back on the road and walk to the next one. It was awful. The few times that I wild camped next to the road I struggled to find a spot hidden from passing cars and I just kept on walking until it was dark and I didn’t have much of a choice anymore. But when I woke up after that first time wild camping, I felt so strong. I can really do this, I thought. And I knew I had to find a way to let go of my fear.
The biggest issue is dealing with fear itself and letting it hold you back
Bad things happen everywhere, and yes they could happen to you. Statistically, it’s more likely to happen to you in a highly populated area – but that hasn’t deterred you from living in a city, has it? So why should it deter you from going out into nature. Grab that tent and go for that walk.
Unfortunately, knowing something and feeling something are two very different things. If you’re like me, you’ll still be scared. You took that step but you still feel the fear. And that’s what I realised is the biggest problem – the worry. Not the thing that might happen, because we know the chances of that are extremely small. All my human interactions were actually quite amazing. Many people (both men and women) I met were impressed with what I was doing, especially as a solo female. Often people would offer help in some way. And it’s a beautiful experience to realise that you’re actually inspiring others by simply going on a long walk.
But still, those negative feelings haunted me, and I felt exposed and vulnerable. What if someone appeared from behind that corner? What if someone didn’t appear from behind that corner and I was the only person on this entire mountain? Where would I end up camping tonight? Will there be any other people, will I be alone? Will I end up in a town at the end of the day with nowhere to hide? In my experience it was the constant worry and uncertainty that made hiking alone a struggle.
Taking self-defence classes
After Tasmania (and a winter hike through urban Japan) I decided to do something about it. I was back in London for two months before exploring the vast expanses of Iceland for another adventure. I knew I didn’t want to walk around worrying so much. I just wanted to hike. I’d be wild camping most of the time and the landscape wouldn’t allow for much cover. I had to overcome my fear.
So I did the only thing I could think of: I signed up for a self-defence class. While I’m not one for contact sports or group activities, I decided that learning some self-defence was going to make me feel a lot more confident. And while I knew that four classes of Krav Maga weren’t quite enough for me to actually remember all the moves, it was enough for me to stop worrying. It allowed me to build confidence, and to know that there was a way out if something did happen. It made me feel stronger. And that’s really all I needed. Because after all those months on trail in Tasmania and Japan, I’d only had good experiences with people. It was clearly my negative thinking that was holding me back. And now I was able to let go of those thoughts.
My experiences in Iceland
My walk around Iceland was arguably my biggest adventure – the weather conditions, the loneliness, the alien landscapes. I walked a lot of roads and struggled to find camp spots in those areas. I’d walk deep into the night because I couldn’t find a rock big enough to hide behind. At times I had to suck it up and camp in view of a (often deserted) road. But things were different. I made sure to stay safe, but I no longer struggled with that overwhelming fear I experienced in Tasmania. Those Krav Maga classes were just the encouragement I needed, and they’d put things into perspective for me. My emotions had now caught up with what I knew intellectually.
There was something else I realised. Whenever I spotted a pitched tent somewhere – anywhere – I never imagined a vulnerable girl was lying in it. I’d always assume it was some tough guy who’d set up his tent right there. And that’s what most people will think. I even know women who purchased a camouflage coloured tent because it looks more likely to belong to a guy!
When hitchhiking is part of the trail
It wasn’t until I started hiking official long distance trails that I was faced with the prospect of hitchhiking. I wasn’t looking forward to it. I don’t even like to take taxis, let alone trust a stranger to offer me a ride to the nearest town. But there I was, in New Zealand with a broken phone. I’d lost the trail and the hikers I was with, and I needed a store. With no options available, I stuck out my thumb and the first car stopped. It was a man wearing a wife-beater. I hope you’re laughing right now!
The hitch turned out to be perfectly fine and he drove me all the way to the phone shop, which was amazing. It was the first of a lot of hitches, especially on the Pacific Crest Trail. Although I never enjoyed it, I sort of got used to it. Of course, being a solo female I’ll always opt to get public transport if it was available – even if it’s less convenient. But often you have no choice.
When you’re hiking a big trail like the PCT, most people from the area will know you’re a hiker looking to resupply in a nearby town. Many people who stop will know all about the trail and immediately make you feel comfortable. But this is not always the case. Sometimes the person pulling over seems drunk, or just a bit off, and you have to remember that you can turn down the ride. Yes, it’s uncomfortable – they could be perfectly friendly people trying to help out, but it doesn’t matter. If you don’t feel comfortable taking the ride, then don’t. If you’re not so good with words then have a believable excuse ready. I turned down a ride once. I made sure to thank the man for stopping and told him I could only accept a ride if a woman was present in the car. He didn’t take offence and drove off. I think this is a great way to handle uncomfortable rides, and people will generally be understanding. And if they’re not, then it’s definitely a good thing you turned down the ride!
This post has turned into a little of a manifesto, but I hope it has inspired you to not hold back. I’ll end with some practical advice that might help make the first step, or boost your confidence and determination!
Breaking this down into some practical advice
- Take some self defence classes to build confidence and learn to defend yourself.
- Don’t camp in close proximity or in view of a trailhead, road or town. Be stealth when wild camping. If I’m walking on a road around the time that I need to find shelter, I make sure that no cars or houses are in view when I leave the road to scour for a place to sleep. I don’t want anyone to be able to follow my tracks. When you’re camping near others – consider who they are and if you’re comfortable with them. Worst case scenario you put on your headlamp and you keep on walking until you find a better spot.
- You don’t have to disclose your plans to any other hikers you meet on the trail. You can be vague, say you’re not sure how far you’ll go, or you can flat-out lie, and give a completely different destination, saying a friend is ahead of you. Feel free to say as little or as much as you’re willing to! (At the same time, giving people the correct information can be vital if it ever were to come to a search and rescue operation, so I wouldn’t advise to lie just for the sake of it – only if you feel you have to.)
- Know your surroundings. If for some reason you’re in an uncomfortable situation (say you met a group of hikers going in the same direction but they’re giving you an off vibe) and you want to change your route, have the means to do so. Familiarise yourself with the landscape and other trails and roads nearby, and make sure you have the correct maps downloaded onto your phone so you can find an alternative way out. If you’re on a busy trail, you can approach a group of friendly hikers and ask if you can walk with them for a while.
- Bring some safety tools you’re confident with. Some people carry a small knife – I personally have a small but sharp pair of embroidery scissors. You could keep these on hand if it makes you feel better (although always be aware of the risk of the other person taking them off you and using them against you.) A safety whistle is always good to have, and often this is integrated into the sternum strap of your pack. Always keep a charged phone and a PBL for when you don’t have signal. It won’t be much help in the moment but I’d advise you to carry one for general safety reasons anyways. It will give you (and people at home) comfort that you carry something that can send out a distress call.
- Consider the gear you bring. Depending on where you’re going you might want to bring bright coloured clothing and shelter – or the complete opposite! When I wild camp I prefer to be invisible, and a shelter that blends into nature will be my preference.
- Have an excuse ready for turning down a hitch. Never feel obligated to accept a ride when hitchhiking into a town to resupply. If something feels off, I’ll tell the driver I can only accept a ride when a woman is in the car, and thank them for stopping anyways.
- Consider a stepping stone to going outdoors on your own. I threw myself into the deep end a little bit, but you may want to start slow. You could go on several hikes and camping trips with other people first – with friends or organised local outdoor groups. You could hike a trail you already know, something short and sweet. It might help increase your confidence in yourself and your gear, and that will help you feel confident about going out on your own. At the same time you might just have to dive into the deep end as well. Being alone is always different from being with others, and you won’t know what it’s like until you’re there.
- Lastly – start out in a place that is deemed safe. This could be somewhere local or if you’re ready for a big leap, choose a country that’s known for being safe – Japan, South Korea, New Zealand or Iceland are great options for hiking.
If you have anything to add to this post, please leave a comment! Any suggestions that will inspire women to go out there are welcomed. See you on the trail!