I’ll admit: I started out overconfident. 

Getting to Mt. Katahdin, the northern terminus of the AT, went smoothly. My mom and dad drove the seven hours from Massachusetts to Baxter State Park with me, and we camped for the night. When we woke up at 3:45 a.m. the next morning to drive the hour and a half to our trailhead and start early up the mountain, the sun was already rising in a magical, glowy way. My dad hiked Katahdin with me, which I was grateful for since we decided to take the Knife Edge Trail up. I’ve been wanting to do this trail since 2018 when I summited Katahdin in the rain to end my first thru-hike. 

This time, my dad and I pranced up the scrambly rocks, taking in the perfect weather and clear views. We reminisced about our time up there seven years ago, and I had this overwhelming feeling that starting the AT is exactly what I’m supposed to be doing. We took photos at the sign and hiked down the AT to the base of the mountain where my mom was waiting for us with a picnic lunch. 

It was hard to say goodbye to my parents as I walked off alone onto the trail, but not as hard as the first time I stepped onto the AT at age 19, hiking into the Georgia wilderness. This felt like a full circle moment. I could really reflect on the ways I’ve changed over the years since. I now had all different gear, a wealth of knowledge and experience with long distance trails, and confidence that I didn’t have back then.

After summiting Katahdin, the official start of the AT, and descending the Hunt Trail, I hiked the 10 more miles to camp, feeling excited as ever to be out there. I slept like a baby, lulled by the soothing sound of rain on my tent. Day 1 on AT2 (my shorthand for this second go of it), done. 

100 Mile Wilderness

The next few days through the 100-mile wilderness went swimmingly (sometimes literally). Besides a little drizzle the second morning, the weather was spectacular: dry, crisp, sunny and cool but not too cold. I loved seeing the varying greens, mosses, rocks and bodies of water. I feel such a strong connection to these landscapes. I swam multiple times in the pristine lakes, crushed the miles, and my body felt surprisingly fine. Because I’ve been nursing a hamstring injury for several months, I haven’t hiked more than 13 miles since my CDT thru-hike last summer. But out here, 25-28 miles a day was feeling great. I was tired but in a good way, and I was feeling so proud of my body. 

Things changed on day 4. Getting near the end of the 100-mile wilderness, I hiked 28 miles with almost 8,000 feet of vertical gain. If I’d had my “trail legs” (thru-hikers’ term for when our bodies get accustomed to the daily physical and mental demands of the trail), this would have been fine. But unfortunately, for the beginning of a hike with the minimal training I’d done, these big days were too much. The next morning, I started to feel pain in my knee. I tried to ignore it for a bit, see if it would pass. But it only got worse with every step. Eventually, I decided to be smart and accept a ride to town from a dirt road 11 miles from the end of the 100-mile wilderness. So close. 

Feeling failure

I’ve dealt with plenty of overuse injuries, but each time feels just as heartbreaking as the last. I felt stupid, thinking, “if I had just done this or that small thing differently, this wouldn’t have happened.” But the reality is that an overuse injury like this at the beginning of a thru-hike is incredibly common. There is no amount of training that can truly recreate the challenge of rugged Maine trails, especially doing big miles. There is no way to practice walking for 12 hours a day in normal life. So of course it’s an adjustment for the body. 

I took a day off to rest my leg and had a telehealth appointment with my physical therapist, Blaze Physio, who has helped me tremendously with issues throughout my hikes. She diagnosed the injury as a quad strain that’s tugging on my knee cap, and showed me how to use KT tape for some structure. After a day off and some new supports in place, I went back to trail with a plan to complete the last 11 miles then continue onto the next section of trail. But after a few miles of hiking, even with a slower pace and the KT tape, the pain only got worse. 

Reality Check

A few miles in, hobbling with pain, I sat on a rock in the rain and cried. I felt like a failure. I went into this hike feeling like I could do anything I set my mind to, only to be shot down and told by my body that I simply can’t. For a few minutes I let myself feel this, and let myself grieve the idea of my hike that I now had to let go of. If there’s anything I know about thru-hiking, it’s that it teaches one to be patient and flexible. Plans change constantly and that’s okay. I pulled myself together and came back to the thought that this isn’t the end of the world. It’s a small issue that will take a few days to care for and then I’ll be on my way. 

I slowly made my way to the road, got a pick up from an awesome hiker hostel host, and posted up for a few days. Now I am doing some true recovery of my leg, and hoping to get back on trail soon. I’ve met so many awesome hikers coming through the hostel over the last few days, and I’m antsy and excited to get back on trail. I haven’t lost sight of why I’m out here and I think this injury can serve the purpose of keeping me in check. I feel more hungry than ever to be out in the woods, not having to think about anything except walking, eating and sleeping. But for now, rest and recovery.

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Thru-hiking gives you a fresh perspective on life. It gets you out of your routine and forces you to look at things a little differently. Many hikers describe the trail changing their views on consumerism, work-life balance, spirituality, and other Big Things.

For me, thru-hiking did shift my perspective in several fundamental ways — but it also made me more attuned to a myriad of tiny, trivial details of “normal” life that I had never noticed before. Here are a few examples.

1. Perfume Smells

Nothing like spending 95% of your time breathing in a heady mixture of pristine mountain air and suffocating body odor to make the smell of perfumed beauty products seem like a frontal assault on your nostrils.

Thru-hikers often remark in hushed tones on the many overwhelming aromas emitted by passing day hikers — sunscreens, soaps, dryer sheets, etc. — which seem to linger in the air for several minutes after the source has trekked past.

Backpackers tend to avoid heavily perfumed products as much as possible because they might attract bears. In any case, if you’re going 3-7 days at a time between showers, there’s not much point in using fragrances to try to improve your personal aroma.

As a result, whenever we do encounter “town smells,” the result is sensory overload. Even walking down the cleaning-supply aisle at the grocery store during resupply becomes an olfactory nightmare.

Don’t get me wrong. No one’s arguing that thru-hiker smells are in any way superior to, say, Axe Body Spray. It’s just that perfumed products hit different after you’ve spent a decent amount of time away from that sort of thing.

2. Town Water

Hey, I’m all for water treatment. Water treatment improves health outcomes and is the reason I can drink water straight from my tap without having to filter it first.

But I have to admit, after drinking nothing but clean spring water straight from the source for even just a few days, the taste of chlorine in the tap water on town days can be overwhelming, almost like slurping directly from a swimming pool.

Some municipalities chlorinate their water more heavily than others, and other factors like water hardness can also impact taste. But when I’m spending most of my time frontcountry, the flavor is rarely noticeable.

Not so when I’m backpacking. I sometimes struggle to stay hydrated on town days simply because the taste is so unpleasant compared to the water I filter from stream crossings while hiking.

Side note: My AT privilege is probably showing here. Any desert thru-hiker who reads this after having filtered water from a fuzzy green cow tank will probably be rolling their eyes right about now.

3. The Existence of Power Outlets

When thru-hiking, one must take every possible opportunity to charge. My eyes are already scanning the bottom third of the wall as I walk up to the grocery store, searching for a vacant outlet half-concealed behind the vending machines.

Eating in a restaurant? If there are enough tables available that it’s not obnoxious to ask, I always request a table with an outlet nearby.

I carry a battery bank, but if I have a chance to top up my electronics from the grid, I’ll always take it. Better to err on the side of caution. Even to this day, I can’t walk into a Food Lion without mentally cataloging all the sockets near the entrance of the store.

4. Every Vaguely White, Vaguely Rectangular Thing (AT Hikers Know What I Mean)

Do you have any idea how many white rectangles the average person encounters in a day? No? Go hike the AT and then take a walk through your hometown. Suddenly you’ll find yourself noticing random white signs, paint swatches, and suspiciously boxy lichen patches all over the place.

The AT will develop your backcountry abilities, mental toughness, and physical fitness. But there is no other skill that the trail trains quite like the skill of spotting white blazes.

Spend a few weeks navigating through a snowy forest on a trail marked almost exclusively with white paint and then try not to notice white rectangles everywhere you go for the next eight months.

After 2,200 miles on the AT, your brain will be in pattern recognition overdrive, and everything vaguely white and vaguely orthogonal will look like a blaze to you.

5. “That Looks Like It Would Be a Good Campsite”

For someone who allegedly loves hiking so much, I pass an awful lot of miles anticipating how great it will feel when I can finally make camp, and my mind occupies itself throughout the day by cataloging all the flat, vegetation-free spots I could potentially pitch a tent on (even if I know I’ll still be hiking for hours).

Much like with the white blaze thing above, once you’ve spent a certain amount of time scanning the surrounding terrain with desperate acuity in search of a flat patch of earth on which to camp, your brain’s pattern recognition superpowers take over and suddenly every flat surface stands out to you as though it had a spotlight trained on it.

I often notice amazing “campsites” while out on day hikes, in city parks, and occasionally in friends’ backyards.

Since we’re on the subject, consider this your friendly reminder to always sleep on durable surfaces and in established campsites, y’all.

6. Trail Couches

Comfortable seating is not a feature most hiking trails are known for. As a result, backpackers become freakishly attuned to the various kind-of smooth rocks and “pretty dry” logs that can serve as makeshift seating arrangements alongside the trail.

My friend Sally Forth used to call them trail couches — and every once in a great while, you’ll find a big rock that’s so comfy, so perfectly ergonomic that it should be illegal. Once you’ve experienced your first really primo rock-sitting experience, there’s no going back, and you’ll be searching everywhere for that next special trail couch.

Thru-hiking changes your perspective in many ways, and I don’t mean to neglect the bigger stuff. Of course, spending an extended period of time in the mountains on a thru-hike will probably also make you more attuned to deeper things like your own thoughts and feelings, the rhythms of the natural world, and the special synchronicity we often describe as “trail magic.”

What are some details you never noticed before thru-hiking but now can’t unsee?

Featured image: Graphic design by Zack Goldmann.

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To learn more, please visit the About This Site page.

South Africa has secured the impressive title of the fourth-best country globally for travel in the 2025 Telegraph Travel Awards, standing as the highest-ranked African nation on the list.

This accolade reinforces South Africa’s status as a leading global tourism destination, maintaining its place in the top 10 for over a decade.

Voted for by tens of thousands of Telegraph readers, the annual awards celebrate the world’s most cherished travel spots. South Africa’s appeal lies in its diverse offerings—from the cosmopolitan allure of Cape Town and the wildlife-rich Kruger National Park to the stunning Garden Route.

Cape Town, notably, earned praise beyond the national spotlight, ranking highly in the Telegraph’s city-specific polls. Additionally, the city was named one of the world’s top 20 nightlife destinations in The Times’ 2025 global nightlife rankings, recognised for its vibrant after-dark scene.

From gritty warehouse raves to glamorous rooftop lounges, Cape Town pulses with Afro-house and amapiano beats that keep locals and visitors dancing until dawn.

Botswana also features prominently, placing 10th on the Telegraph’s list. Though its rank remained steady, Botswana continues to captivate travellers with its pristine wilderness and commitment to conservation-led tourism, securing its reputation as one of Africa’s most timeless travel gems.

Top 10 Countries in the 2025 Telegraph Travel Awards:

1. New Zealand
2. Japan
3. India
4. South Africa
5. Greece
6. Australia
7. Peru
8. The Maldives
9. Costa Rica
10. Botswana

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