What Solo Hiking as a Woman Has Taught Me

Did he turn around and follow me?

Luckily, I’d gone up a side trail to check out an old viewpoint. It was there that I stood, watching as he passed by on the main trail, a cold feeling washing over me. He didn’t see me. I weighed my options. There was another route back, but it was longer. It would start getting dark in an hour, and I was already exhausted from trudging through a foot of snow. Even with pathways through, it was tiring.

That was where I’d first passed him, on the packed snow footpath winding down the logging road. My cheery hello had been met with silence. An out-of-towner, I thought. A local would say hello and maybe stop to chat. After we passed each other, I stopped to take a photo, then turned and watched him disappear around a bend in the road. I continued on my way.

Not five minutes later, there he was again. I couldn’t figure out how he’d gotten there so quickly. I was suddenly very aware that I was alone on the hill with this man and that he could easily overpower me.

While I could have gone a longer route back, I was exhausted from trudging through snow, and it was going to be dark in an hour. So I ended up following him, tracking him at a distance with my knife tucked up my sleeve. The prey had become the predator. Though I told myself I was being silly, my entire being was screaming danger. I watched for footprints veering off the path.

At the next trail junction, I noted where his tracks went and took the other trail. A few weeks after my encounter with him, I was snooping around for updates on a semi-local murder case. Some busybody had posted the prime suspect’s hiking app profile. I went and had a look at it and immediately recognized one of his maps, because it showed where he’d turned and doubled back on the mountain. The date and time on the photos I took matched his hike.

One might think that being creeped out while alone on the trail might deter me from hiking solo, but it hasn’t. For me, the benefits far outweigh the risks, and being alone in nature is a need like air or water. It’s taught me a lot about preparedness, health, and happiness.

Why Solo?

Someone in my local Facebook hiking group described solo hiking as lonely and dangerous. I heartily refute this. I love being alone.

I’ve been going it solo in the outdoors for well over a decade. Surprisingly, most (if not all) of the criticism comes from other women. Men don’t bat an eye. Women, on the other hand, think I’m nuts. They make remarks like “Good for you,” and “You’re so brave,” and “Does your mother know you’re out here?”

Yes, my mother knows. I’m sure she hates it. It’s probably partly her fault, because I come from a long line of strong-minded and stubborn women who don’t like people telling us what to do.

Going it solo is not a statement of bravery. It’s a necessity.

As someone who is extremely noise sensitive, I crave the silence of the woods. In modern society, there is almost nowhere left where it’s quiet. There’s a constant din anywhere you go in the world, even the library, which was once the last city refuge for those who desperately need quiet spaces. That’s why some of us lose our minds when we come across someone with poor etiquette blasting music aloud in the woods. You have the whole city to make noise. Leave the outdoors alone.

The other reason is that in 2011, I was in a car accident. Afterwards, dealing with what was probably post-traumatic stress, I was terrified of going anywhere, and I didn’t hike for years. I was convinced that I’d die. One day it clicked that nature made me feel better, and I started heading out alone. It was hard at first, battling with my catastrophizing brain, but the more I went, the better things got. So I kept going. Slowly, it re-taught my brain that nothing bad was going to happen, and it killed most of the fear. In the end, one of the biggest reasons I go solo is because I refuse to go through life being afraid.

I’ve lived my life scared before. I won’t do it again.

Bored? Lonely? Never

What do I do when I’m alone in the woods? Well, I greet the birds, try to talk to the squirrels, stop and inspect mushrooms, sing out loud, and get my whimsy on like Cinderella. Mostly, I think a lot. Having a good, long think about something or nothing is becoming a lost art. It’s also my best writing place. When I’m writing fiction, and my head is in the story, I let my characters do the talking and figure out a scene.

I’m never bored in the woods, and I’m never lonely. In fact, I’m far, far lonelier in a crowded room than I am on my own. I’m terrible at making friends, so if I were to wait around for someone to go with, I’d never go. As someone who has been disappointed by people in the past, I find solitude the happier option. There’s a bit of an art to being a lone wolf. It makes some things harder, but most things better, so long as I’m prepared.

Man or Bear?

When it comes to hazards in the outdoors, it’s a pretty level playing field for the most part. Accidents, injuries, animal attacks, and getting lost can happen to either sex. However, women can’t disregard the fact that there is one predator out there that is much more dangerous than any other: men.

Would you rather be alone in the woods with a man or a bear? The gist of this debate is that when a woman runs into a man, she never knows how he’s going to behave, whereas bear behaviour is fairly predictable. Despite what some people think, bears aren’t hanging out on the trail waiting for a snack to wander by. The majority of the time, the most you’ll see of them is their rear end as they run away.

That said, in all my years hiking solo, I’ve only ever run into two creepy men, as opposed to thousands of wonderful guys who have cheerily said hello and passed by. The outdoors are a happy place. Everyone is jacked up on endorphins and having a grand old time. Nearly everyone I encounter in the bush is friendly and happy to be there. That’s the thing people don’t often mention about recreation in the outdoors: it’s the happiest place in the world.

So, man or bear? Ideally, I run into neither, because I like being by myself.

Trust Your Gut

My only other bad encounter with a man in the woods was with one who acted overly familiar with me. I ran into him on more than one occasion. The second time, he made a remark about stalking me. That set off alarm bells. My concerns were dismissed by other women in my life, who told me maybe he just liked me. Really? In this day and age, we’re still telling people that? I refuse to believe that this grown man was so overwhelmed by my resting bitchface that he turned into a bumbling oaf.

It really pissed me off to let one creep ruin a favourite spot, but I avoided the area after that. As much as I hate it, what it boils down to is this: would you rather avoid your favourite trail or be harmed?

One of the most important things you can do in the face of this danger is to listen to your built-in warning system: your gut.

If you’ve suffered from anxiety or trauma, it can be difficult to differentiate between anxiety and your internal alarm system. I often find myself jumping at sounds in the bush that turn out to be my pack strap squeaking or the trees creaking in the wind. When you’re alone in the wild, and something makes you anxious, how do you know if it’s instinct or anxiety? It’s a tough question, so I always err on the side of playing it safe.

Don’t tell yourself that you’re being silly when your instincts are telling you otherwise. The man in the snow that I ran into may or may not have purposely followed me. He said nothing to me. And yet something about his behaviour activated the primal part of my brain and warned me that this was a dangerous person.

Staying Safe

How I go about safety in the outdoors really isn’t much different than anyone else, except I’m more choosy about where I go. There are certain areas in the province where you’re more likely to run into creepy men doing weird shit, as my mom would say. I avoid those places. Some forest service roads, for example, are a hotbed of lawlessness and illegal activity, especially those accessed near major cities.

As a former kayak guide, I know the importance of being prepared. I don’t take risks when I’m in the outdoors. I research where I’m going, leave a trip plan, bring my ten essentials and other safety gear, and know when I need to change my objectives if things aren’t going as planned. When I’m on a multi-day trip, I check in with family whenever I have cell service. I’ve also worked with wildlife in the past and am fairly comfortable knowing their habits and reading their body language.

Many areas of the province are perfectly safe for women in the outdoors. I find Provincial and National Parks to be pretty safe places. Popular trails are also a fair bet. Many multi-day backpacking routes are quite safe as well. I’ve done the West Coast Trail twice on my own. For the most part, I worry about cougars more than men.

“Ever feel eyes on you in the woods?” someone remarked to me recently, during a brief discussion about sasquatch. “You’d better hope it’s a sasquatch and not a cougar.” I think that about sums it up!

There are always going to be risks associated with going it solo in the outdoors. I like to play a game I call Worst Case Scenario. In any situation that you’re in, what’s the worst thing that could happen? What would you do? Are you prepared? Call it the bad habit of a stress-ridden brain if you want, but it’s an effective preparation strategy. When I busted my wrist in the woods, I knew exactly what to do, because I’d already prepped for it in my head beforehand.

You’re going to run into situations that you have no control over. Could a man attack you? Certainly, but a cougar could also jump on your back. A rock could tumble down the hill. A tree could fall on your head. You could be caught in a flood or struck by lightning. You could get injured or lost.

But do you know what to do when those things happen?

Don’t be afraid. Be ready.