It was a Tuesday in January. I was two miles into a snowshoe trail in the Catskills, and I was already soaked. Not from rain. From sweat. I’d worn a thick fleece over a cotton long-sleeve and figured that was enough. By mile two, the cotton was plastered to my skin and I was getting … Read more
For summer hiking, wear a lightweight moisture-wicking shirt, a UPF-rated sun hoodie or hat, breathable hiking shorts or pants, and merino wool hiking socks. Avoid cotton. Every layer should manage sweat and block UV rays. A few summers ago, I drove two hours to a trailhead in Shenandoah National Park and stepped out in a … Read more
I was four miles into a cold October morning on the Appalachian Trail when I realized I’d made a serious mistake. I’d pulled on a cotton long sleeve, loaded my pack, and headed out before dawn. By the time the sun hit the ridge, I was soaked through with sweat. Then the temperature dropped. I … Read more
I was two days into a solo traverse of the Hoh River Trail in Olympic National Park when the sky opened up. Not drizzle. Full Pacific Northwest rain — the kind that hits horizontal and doesn’t stop for hours. I had on a jacket I’d grabbed on sale the previous season. Rated 10,000mm. Looked fine … Read more
I was three days into the Southern Terminus stretch of the Arizona Trail, somewhere between the border monument and Patagonia, when I noticed something. My feet were moving easy. My pack sat flat against my back. I wasn’t grinding — I was just hiking. That wasn’t always how it went. A few years earlier on … Read more
I was about fourteen miles into a night hike on the Presidential Traverse in New Hampshire when my headlamp started fading. Not dead — just dim enough that I couldn’t read the trail markers on the rocky ridge. I slowed down, stopped twice to second-guess the route, and added an extra thirty minutes to a … Read more
It was mile four on a July day hike in southern Utah. The sun was hammering the red rock. I reached for my water bottle — a standard gym bottle I’d grabbed on the way out the door — and the water was so warm it almost made things worse. I still had six miles … Read more
I was about 1,800 feet into a loose shale descent on the Maroon Bells–Snowmass Trail in Colorado when my right knee started talking back. My pack weighed close to 40 pounds, the trail was crumbling under every step, and I had nothing to lean on. I made it down. But I swore I’d never do … Read more
It was 14°F on the north face of Mount Washington, and I couldn’t get my pack buckle open. My fingers had gone stiff inside gloves that were supposed to be “warm enough.” I was fumbling like I had mittens on a piano keyboard — except I had neither mittens nor control. That moment cost me … Read more
It was June in Arizona. I was knee-deep in a slot canyon crossing, and my waterproof boots were soaked straight through within sixty seconds. The water had poured in from the top. My feet were heavy, wet, and miserable for the next four miles. I kept thinking — why didn’t I just bring sandals? That … Read more