I love backpacking with other people. Some of my favorite trail memories were made over shared sunrises, or while passing snacks back and forth on a long, dusty trail. But every so often, what I really need isn’t connection, it’s solitude. I want to wake up to quiet. I want to move at my own pace. I want to go to the places that call to me, without compromising a single mile.

I didn’t take my first solo backpacking trip until I was 35. Before that, I’d done plenty of things alone. In my youth, I traveled solo, road-tripped all around the midwest, wandering cities and small towns without much thought. But somewhere along the way, my life got fuller. I moved to Los Angeles. Shacked up with my boyfriend. Got a full-time office job. Spent my weekends out in Hollywood or Malibu. Got married. Built a wonderful, connected life.

But with that connection came something else: a slow erosion of my independence. I didn’t even notice it until one day I felt anxious just having to run a simple errand by myself. And that kind of shook me.

So I decided to take myself backpacking. Alone.

Since then, I’ve gotten a lot of messages, all from women, that all circle around the same question: “Aren’t you scared?” And it breaks my heart a little. Not because the question is unreasonable, but because I know that if I were a man, no one would ask it. Men aren’t expected to be scared just for being alone. But unfortunately, we are.

So here’s the truth: Yes, I definitely think about safety. Yes, I plan extremely carefully and meticulously. And no, I’m certainly not fearless… BUT I refuse to let fear keep me from doing what I love.

Why I Started Backpacking Solo

I took that first trip partly out of necessity. My husband, Mark, is many, many things: a wonderful partner, a great dog dad, a killer conversationalist — buuut he’s not really partial to backpacking. Will he accompany me worst case scenario? Definitely! But, I hate to force him into something he doesn’t whole-heartedly enjoy. And at the same time, I didn’t want to miss out on something that I feel super passionate about just because I didn’t have a hiking buddy.

And honestly? I don’t have many friends here in LA who hike or backpack the way I do. So, it was either go alone, or not go at all.

And I also reminded myself: I’m an adult. I have free will. I can do whatever I want.

My First Solo Trip: The Trans-Catalina Trail

For my first solo trip, I decided to go big with a multi-day, 38.5-mile trek across Catalina Island: The Trans Catalina Trail. But it turned out to be the perfect choice. Here’s why:

1. It Felt Safe

The island is relatively self-contained, you need a ferry to get there, and there are designated campsites you have to book in advance. That meant there was a paper trail of where I’d be each night, something that helped both me and my loved ones feel more secure.

2. It Had Infrastructure

There were bathrooms, water spigots, and even a restaurant and gift shop partway through. Knowing there were resources available gave me peace of mind.

3. It Was Well Traveled

The trail is well established and even intersects with roads in some places. If I’d gotten injured or needed help, I knew I wasn’t far from other people.

I’ll admit, when I stepped off the ferry and headed off for the trail, I had a real “what the hell am I doing?” moment. I was alone, on an island, about to hike nearly 40 miles without a familiar face in sight. For a second, the nerves crept in hard (it might have just been motion sickness from the boat though).

But the trail didn’t give me much time to spiral. As soon as I started walking, the rhythm of the hike pulled me out of my head. The sound of my boots on dirt, the ocean views, the hot, steady climb — it all brought me back to the present. By the time I reached camp that first night, I was totally spent, but super proud. I had managed to complete my first day and I was ready for more.

I brought a little journal with me to jot down thoughts during breaks and at camp. It helped me stay grounded, and made the experience feel more intentional. And while I set out on my own, I never felt truly alone. Trail kindness is real, and there's an unspoken camaraderie that forms among people doing hard things in wild places.

When I walked into Two Harbors on the final day, sore and sun-kissed and hiker hungry, I felt like a slightly different version of myself: stronger, calmer, and more sure of what I was capable of. That hike gave me more than beautiful views and sore legs. It gave me back a part of myself I hadn’t realized I was missing.

Leveling Up: The Eastern Sierra

After the TCT, I knew I wanted to go deeper, both physically and mentally. As much as I loved the structure and comfort of hiking across Catalina, I was craving something a bit wilder. And for me, that meant heading back to my favorite place to hike: the Eastern Sierra.

I’d backpacked in the Sierra plenty of times before, but always with a group—friends, my brother, even guided trips, but never alone. So choosing to do it solo felt like a whole new level of stepping outside my comfort zone.

To ease the transition, I picked a trail I was already familiar with in the Sabrina Basin. I’d been there a few times before, so I knew the terrain, the general elevation profile, and what to expect in terms of water sources and campsites. That familiarity gave me just enough confidence to quiet some of the what-ifs. I didn’t want the logistics or uncertainty to distract me from the experience. I wanted to be present with it, not overwhelmed by it.

Still, it was intimidating. The terrain in the Sierra is more remote and rugged than Catalina. You’re at higher elevation. There’s more dangerous wildlife. The weather can shift drastically and quickly. There’s absolutely no cell service, and much fewer bailout options. I felt the gravity of being really out there.

But at the same time, that’s what made it beautiful. There were other people out on trail—fisherman, day hikers, families with kids and dogs — and seeing them now and then gave me a sense of security. I wasn’t totally isolated. But there was also plenty of quiet. I could hike for miles without seeing another soul, stop beside an alpine lake and hear nothing but wind and water and the sound of my own breath.

It was really the perfect mix — enough people to feel safe, enough solitude to feel peace — that was exactly what I needed. It reminded me that being alone in the backcountry doesn’t have to mean being on edge. It can mean being completely immersed. Completely connected. And completely free.

Let’s Talk About Solo Safety

Backpacking solo as a woman means carrying more than just gear. It also means carrying a lifetime of cultural messaging that says: “You’re vulnerable. You should be afraid.” Womp. Womp.

I totally get that, and I prepare accordingly. But I also want to push back on the idea that fear should stop us from doing the things that make us feel alive.

Here’s how I approach safety, both physically and mentally:

What I Bring for Safety

Satellite communicator (I use a Garmin InReach): lets me check in with loved ones or call for help if needed
Mace or bear spray: depends on where I’m going and what’s legal
Knife or multitool: practical and gives me peace of mind. This one is super lightweight to carry.
Whistle + headlamp: small but essential
First aid kit: always

What I Practice

Take a self-defense class: I highly recommend @adventuresofnik — she teaches practical, empowering skills for women who love the outdoors
Don’t overshare: If someone on trail asks where I’m camping, I don’t tell them. You don’t owe strangers your itinerary, no matter how nice they seem
Trust your gut: If someone or something feels off, move on. Change your plans. Leave. Your comfort is more important than being polite

I personally don’t carry a firearm — it’s not something I feel I need — but if it’s legal where you’re hiking and it makes you feel safer, you do you

Final Thoughts

Solo backpacking isn’t about being fearless, it’s about being prepared and intentional. It’s about honoring your needs, trusting your instincts, and remembering that you are more capable than you give yourself credit for.

So if you’ve been thinking about going solo, take this as your sign. Start small. Pick a place you know. Prepare well. Trust yourself. The trail is waiting. And you don’t need anyone’s permission to take it.