I’m at the top of a mountain I frequent often, admiring the familiar view that changes subtly with each visit, as the sun crests the horizon. There is a dull golden hue slowly creeping across the landscape like a sepia filter, when he comes near me – a fellow hiker, equipped with all the latest gear, a friendly smile and pleasant small talk.
“Absolutely gorgeous, isn’t it?” he beams. I agree. “Come up here much?” he asks casually. Yes often, I reply.
“And always alone?” he quizzes me with genuine concern, and something else. Perhaps a hint of bafflement?
Here we go again.
I pause for a moment to contemplate my reply. Yes, alone, I respond, I prefer it this way. I look away.
My change of tone probably indicates something else, some deeper reason for being alone that I don’t want to talk about, and so he promptly wraps up our chat, and continues onwards.
Really, I’m just mildly irritated that being alone is a thing he noticed and decided to comment on, when he himself is also alone and not outwardly concerned for his own safety. I know – it’s not his fault.
Despite what this totally well-intentioned man might think, my solo hikes are a conscious choice – one that many women are increasingly making. Like many others, I simply prefer to hike solo.
Why I Prefer to Hike Solo
My affinity for solo hiking isn’t born from a lack of companionship. Contrary to the stereotype of the lone wolf with no friends to call upon, I have a healthy (albeit small) social circle who love the outdoors. My teenage sister in particular, who’s way more outdoorsy than I am, is often my up-for-anything adventure buddy. But the tranquillity of being alone with nature is something I often actively choose.
The rustle of leaves underfoot, the birdsong, the gentle flow of a stream – these details often become background noise in the company of others. Alone, they are magnified, transforming each hike into a meditative experience, a journey into nature and into my own thoughts. It’s one reason why I don’t wear headphones whilst hiking either. I want to hear – and notice every little detail.
Being a people pleaser by nature, solo hiking is my escape from the constant negotiation of group dynamics. There’s a unique freedom in setting my own pace, choosing my path without the need for consensus, and pausing to admire a view without the subconscious rush imposed by a companion’s presence. It’s empowering to be the sole curator of my adventures and not to worry that I’m bothering anyone else.
Confronting the Stigma
Now, let’s address the elephant on the footpath so to speak – the stigma around solo hiking, particularly for women. The default assumption seems to be that it’s inherently unsafe, a reckless flirtation with danger.
While I won’t deny that there are risks – as there are in any outdoor activity – I firmly believe that with proper preparation and awareness, solo hiking can be as safe as hiking with others. I take precautions, stay aware of my surroundings, and always ensure someone knows where I am.
The underlying issue here isn’t necessarily the safety of the actual footpaths, but the ingrained societal norms that dictate what is appropriate for women, and the view that’s she’s vulnerable if not travelling in a constant ‘wolf pack’, or protected by a man.
There’s a glaring double standard in the outdoor space: when men embark on solo adventures, they’re often seen as brave and fierce explorers, while women doing the same are often questioned or warned about the perils they might face.
This sexism not only undermines the capabilities of women but also perpetuates a narrative where our independence is shadowed by largely unfounded fears.
Normalising Women in the Outdoors
The narrative needs to change. Women enjoying the outdoors alone should be normalised, not sensationalised. Hell – celebrated! In a world where many women are doing it all – maintaining full time jobs whilst doing the majority of caregiving etc, she damn well needs a break from it all.
Every time I set out on a solo hike, I’m making a small contribution toward breaking the stereotype. I’m not an anomaly though; I’m part of an ever-growing community of women who find strength, peace, and joy in solo adventures. It’s great to see that a study by the Outdoor Industry Association highlights that women’s participation in outdoor activities has been steadily increasing year on year, breaking traditional gender roles.
Encountering wildlife, navigating tricky routes, and sometimes overcoming the fear of the unknown – these experiences have sculpted me into a more resilient and self-reliant individual. They’ve taught me that being alone in the outdoors isn’t a sign of vulnerability or loneliness; it’s a testament to strength and independence.
I look forward to a future where this choice to go solo is seen as nothing out of the ordinary – just another hiker out enjoying the trail in her own way.
Final Thoughts
As I parted ways with the concerned hiker that evening, I wondered about the numerous women who might be deterred from solo hiking. It’s time we shift the conversation from cautionary tales to empowering narratives, and have more women represented in the outdoor space.
Yes, it’s crucial to be prepared and aware of the risks, but let’s not forget the immense rewards of solo hiking – the profound connection with nature, the deep introspection, and the sheer joy of discovery on one’s own terms.
So, to the next person who wonders why I’m hiking alone, my answer is simple: I enjoy my own company, and I am perfectly capable of navigating both the trails and the misplaced concerns, as are many others of my gender.
It’s time to get over it. And more to the point – get onboard with it.