Thru-hiking is an intensely personal experience that means something a little different to everyone. No two thru-hikes are alike, and in reality there is no special ritual you have to go through to earn the right to call yourself a thru-hiker.

All the same, there are a few oddly specific, unifying experiences that almost every thru-hiker can relate to on some level. Some are goofy and charming, others are … less so, but they’re all quintessential aspects of long-distance backpacking.

How many of these thru-hiker rites of passage can you relate to?

1. Shitting Your Pants in the Mountains

You would be amazed by how many thru-hikers have shit themselves at least once on trail. If you see someone hiking in their rain pants on a sunny day for no apparent reason — trust me, there’s a reason.

Maybe it’s the intense exercise playing havoc with the gut microbiome or maybe it’s the large quantity of Spam Singles most thru-hikers ingest daily (or hey, maybe it’s giardia!), but this is a surprisingly universal experience for hikers.

All I can tell you is to carry imodium and don’t feel too bad about yourself if it happens.

This is a common, but admittedly not totally ubiquitous, thru-hiker experience. Here’s an alternative you might find more relatable (or be more willing to admit you’ve experienced): accidentally pooping in front of a traumatized group of day hikers because you didn’t realize the trail curves around to go right by your carefully chosen cathole site.

2. Sharing a Hotel Room With 1-5 Random Strangers You Just Met That Day

Jumping into bed with mysterious strangers you met in the forest two hours ago is generally a no-no. But for thru-hikers, it’s a budget-friendly way to enjoy a night in town.

Motels are expensive for one person, but if two or three hikers share a room, it can be the same price or cheaper than staying in a hostel, only with more peace and a private bathroom.

This is a lighthearted little post, but let me just state here that common sense still applies for thru-hikers, as much as we want to be silly and goofy all the time. Don’t do anything that makes you uncomfortable just because “all thru-hikers share hotel rooms.” Use your best judgment and listen to your gut.

3. Pushing Mega Miles Just To Prove You Can and Immediately Requiring a Double Zero To Recover

I could hike 20 miles per day and advance 60 miles toward my goal over the course of three days. OR, hear me out, I could hike 57 miles in one day just to see if I can and then spend two days horizontal in a hostel bunk recovering.

No shade on the latter strategy. For many of us, thru-hiking puts us in the best shape of our lives, and I understand the urge to push the boundaries a bit and see exactly how much our bodies are capable of.

For those who appreciate the finer things in life (and have the budget to support it), there is also something to be said for hiking big miles and balancing them with more time spent in town. I knew plenty of AT hikers who hiked like this — mostly men who were following this or that major sporting event and therefore needed regular access to trail town sports bars — and they all seemed happy enough.

Still, if you’re under time pressure, remember that consistency often counts for more than big-mile days. Hiking 20 miles per day and taking fewer zeros might get you to your destination faster than wearing your body down by busting out 35-mile days that leave you in need of more rest.

Your mileage may vary with this advice; if your name is Heather Anderson, for instance, you can disregard.

4. Experiencing Existential Dread Over Every Minor Ache and Pain

Every hiker is bound to get down in the dumps sometimes after stubbing their toe extra hard on a cunningly concealed rock or feeling a stubborn mystery pain in their knee. In the photo above, I lost my head completely after experiencing persistent foot pain and compensated by completely encasing both feet in gauze and leukotape, which is admittedly a) unhinged, b) a terrible strategy, and c) a waste of leuko.

Thru-hikers put so much of themselves into the trail — time, money, sweat, tears, hopes, dreams — and the thought of some meaningless freak accident ending it all in a split second is frankly terrifying.

Imagine planning your hike for years and making it a thousand miles down the trail before one badly placed step halts your lifelong dream in its tracks. This kind of thing can and does happen, and we all live with some level of anxiety over the possibility of a hike-ending injury. Every minor ache and pain can therefore feel like an existential threat.

The best things you can do for yourself on trail are to stretch daily, stay hydrated, rest often, wear good shoes, and generally listen to your body.

A certain amount of pain is normal when thru-hiking. It is a lot of wear and tear on the body, after all. But pushing through extreme, persistent pain is only going to make a hike-ending injury more likely.

5. Experiencing Existential Dread After Realizing You’re Eating 5x The Recommended Amount of Tuna

Single-serving tuna packets are widely available in most grocery stores and gas stations in the US and seem like a near-perfect hiking food. They come in lightweight packaging and add a punch of flavor and extra protein to your meals. As a result, they’re a staple in many hikers’ food bags.

But in the face of all these great reasons to eat tuna, it’s easy to forget that experts recommend limiting your consumption of tuna to just once per week, since ocean fishies higher on the food chain contain a lot of mercury. Convenient though they are, it’s probably best to lay off the tuna packs if you’re relying on them heavily.

Tuna Alternatives

Salmon packs are also fairly common. Salmon contains mercury but in lower concentrations than tuna, so the FDA recommends up to three servings per week.

Many grocery stores stock chicken packets in the same area, which could be a great alternative.

I hesitate to recommend Spam Singles as a healthier alternative to tuna because, well, you know. But if you’re a carnivore in search of single-serving, protein-rich flavor bombs, that is another option.

6. Hiking 1,500 Miles and Then Calling a Shuttle To Go 0.8 Miles to the Store

OK well first of all, zero days are meant to be rest days. Rest is good! We like rest. No shame in saving as much of your energy for the actual trail as possible.

And second of all, not all trail towns are walkable. Hiking on the shoulder of a busy, narrow road with fast-moving traffic is not the safest plan.

Even just half a mile can become an impassable distance if the shop or restaurant you want to visit is on the opposite side of a six-lane highway with no official pedestrian crossing.

One of the strange dualities of thru-hiking is that you come to love the feeling of traversing great distances but deeply resent the inconvenience of smaller journeys on foot.

7. Eating Hiker Box Mystery Powder

Is it whey protein? Mashed potatoes? Laundry soap? No one knows. But after perusing enough hiker boxes, your curiosity about the ubiquitous, unlabeled mystery baggies is bound to overwhelm your common sense — especially if you’re a hungry hiker on a budget.

Look, I can’t in good conscience recommend eating the unlabeled mystery powders. But if your heart is set on trying, maybe just give the contents a little sniff first and try preparing a small sample in town before adding the lot to your food bag.

Who knows, maybe you’ll discover your new favorite trail food. I sure did. (It was refried bean flakes, if you’re wondering.)

8. Hiking for More Than 1 Hour in the Wrong Direction, Crying

Generally this happens accidentally. But I did know one AT hiker who realized, 12 miles into his day, that he had left his Garmin inReach at the shelter that morning. So he hiked 12 miles back to retrieve it and camped at the same shelter that night, adding 24 miles to his legs but ending up no closer to Katahdin. 

I love alpine starts when thru-hiking, but the combination of low visibility and sleep deprivation makes it all too easy to take a wrong turn early in the morning. The risk is highest when I’ve been camping a bit off trail. When I get back on the treadway, I now know I have to be extra careful to turn the right way.

My worst mix-up was on a predawn ascent of Mt. Washington. In the half light, I accidentally got onto a social trail where many hikers had cut a switchback. When it rejoined the AT, I accidentally turned the wrong way, never realizing I had briefly been off trail. I led my companions more than a mile back down Washington the way we had come up before realizing our (my) mistake. 

Hiking the wrong way is a funny story after the fact, but it feels pretty darn bad in the moment, when you’re tired and hungry and just want to make forward progress. Take comfort in the knowledge that pretty much every hiker has done this at least once.

How Many Can You Relate To?

By no means do you have to experience all, or even any, of the “rites of passage” above to call yourself a thru-hiker. Much like getting a trail name, these are simply experiences many long-distance hikers share or can relate to. How many have you experienced?

Graphic design by Zack Goldman