Can You Hike the CDT Before the AT or PCT?

Can you hike the CDT before the AT or PCT? “If you’re planning to hike all three Triple Crown trails (AT, PCT, and CDT), most experienced hikers recommend doing the CDT after the AT and PCT, as it is generally considered the most challenging due to its remote nature, high elevation, and unpredictable weather conditions.” At least, that’s what the AI overview tells you if you put the question to Google. I’m here to tell you otherwise.

I stood at the northern terminus of the CDT before ever attempting the PCT or AT and wouldn’t change that decision for anything.

I embarked on the CDT this year — not as my first thru-hike, but as my first of the big three. In all fairness, completing the Colorado and John Muir trails before the CDT enabled me to start the trail with a non-negligible amount of backpacking experience, but at no point did I wish I had hiked the AT or PCT before taking the leap to the CDT. In fact, I often thought about how lucky I was to hike the CDT without memories of the other trails clouding my experience. 

In this article, I won’t be trying to convince you that the CDT is better than the other two trails (even though it is). Instead, I am hoping to reach a very specific audience: those who feel passionately about the CDT but don’t think they’re able to attempt a thru-hike without having one of the other two under their belt.

Many of us only have the time, desire, or finances to thru-hike one of these trails in our lifetime; I am here to convince you to pick the trail you truly want to hike without worrying about your experience level.

Unique Challenges of the CDT

Some parts of thru-hiking are universally terrible no matter the trail. Mosquitoes, homesickness, and sore feet don’t care where you are — they’ll be there. Some challenges, though, are unique to the CDT, and they’re likely what people talk about when advising against hiking the CDT first. 

Navigation

People love to talk about navigation on the CDT, and how the lack of signage can be confusing at the best of times. Sure, there were a handful of times when I realized I’d wandered half a mile off trail, but for the most part, I just download the map on FarOut and follow the red line. You may need to check your phone a little more often to ensure you’re on the correct trail, but I certainly never felt the need for a compass or whatever else people love to say while fearmongering. If you want to go the extra step, I’d recommend downloading the app Gaia GPS to create routes that are not on FarOut. 

The CDT was much better marked than I’d expected. Sometimes there are signs, sometimes blazes, and sometimes piles of sun-bleached bones. When in doubt, just keep your map handy!

Water Sources

This is another fearmongering talking point that I consider overhyped. Before starting the trail, I’d seen so many pictures of absolutely repulsive water sources — specifically in New Mexico — and I’d resigned myself to the misery. In reality, the most photographed and unappealing water sources were conveniently close to better options, allowing me to bypass the worst ones. I’d recommend packing electrolytes or flavor packets for the first two weeks, but then you’ll be fine for the rest of the trail. 

I didn’t have to drink out of this muddy tire! There was a tank full of mostly clear water (and hundreds of bees?) just a few miles north.

As a reward for finishing New Mexico, the crystal-clear alpine streams of Colorado have some of the best-tasting water I’ve ever experienced. The only other water-related issues I had were in southern Montana, where the streams had started drying up later in the season. I managed the entire trail north of New Mexico with a 2L water-carrying capacity, but if you’re worried about it, add another liter to your bag in Darby, Montana. 

Altitude

We now move into the CDT-specific challenges that I give a little more weight. While altitude doesn’t affect me very much (thanks, genetics?), plenty of hikers struggle through Colorado, where the average elevation of the trail hovers above 10,000 feet. If you are unfamiliar with spending time at altitude, the best advice I can give is this: drink more than you want, eat more than you want, and try to sleep at lower elevations when you can.

I will love the San Juan Mountains every single day until I die and then even more after that. Who needs oxygen when the views have already taken my breath away?

At higher elevations, your body works harder to function, and you lose more water from breathing. While you may not feel hungry or thirsty — altitude can suppress appetite — your body desperately needs water and calories to continue to function at a high level.

Resupply

The longest resupply on the AT is the 100-Mile Wilderness, which, appropriately, spans 100 miles. On the PCT, the stretch between Stevens Pass to Stehekin clocks in at around 130 miles. On the CDT, going 130 miles or more between resupplies is incredibly common. I had three eight-day food carries on the CDT: Pagosa Springs to Spring Creek Pass, Lander to Dubois, and Lincoln to East Glacier. However, all of these had a bail-out option if you could not carry that much food. 

Big pack means big quads. I’ll make that trade any day.

More than on the other two trails, you’ll need to prioritize caloric density and be a little more proactive in planning out your daily caloric intake to ensure you don’t find yourself a day out from town with no food left. I may not have had the freedom to pack a lot of fun meals or weight-inefficient fruits and vegetables, but I made it to Canada more or less at my starting weight. That’s a win in my book.

Advantages of Hiking the CDT First

Now that we’ve covered the most prevalent reasons people give for not hiking the CDT first, let’s dive into why I actively enjoyed tackling the CDT as my first (very) long trail.

Solitude

You still get solitude on the CDT these days, but likely not for much longer. More and more people are taking on the CDT each year, and this year felt like a sweet spot. I found it incredibly easy to make friends and hike with others if I wanted to, but I rarely shared a campsite outside my tramily and the NOBO “bubble” (which was maybe 10 people) never had to worry about stretching the resources of a trail town past its capacity.

I have endless love for my tramily. Almost as much as I do for the San Juans. (Not pictured: Crumbs, Big Catt, Bug, and Skeeter). These friendships are what kept me laughing on my bad days! But in moments when I wanted space, the trail made it easy to seek that solitude.

If you hike the CDT now, solitude remains an option. However, in the next decade, I predict the CDT will become just as overcrowded as the PCT. There are so few long-distance trails left in the United States that allow for this level of solitude, and it would be a shame to postpone the CDT only to find the opportunity gone.

Mental Toughness

The skills you gain on the AT and PCT aren’t always transferable to the CDT, but the reverse is often true. Facing the unique challenges of the CDT — such as navigating treacherous terrain and enduring high altitudes — builds a mental resilience that will serve you well on other trails. Once you’ve confronted life-threatening fears on the CDT, the challenges of the AT and PCT can feel less daunting. Sure, those trails have bears, but not grizzlies; storms, but fewer above-treeline sections; and long stretches without access to towns, but not as many as on the CDT.

I’m not really convinced Idaho has any trees.

Tackling the CDT first equips you with valuable experience for the tougher aspects of the other trails, allowing you to approach them with a sense of calm rather than anxiety. In contrast, transitioning from the PCT or AT to the CDT means the stakes increase yet again, and you’ll likely find yourself more stressed about the new dangers.

No Expectations

When I say “No Expectations,” I refer to the standard to which you hold yourself as a hiker. The CDT is hard, and the ever-changing conditions and terrain sometimes force you to slow down. Anecdotally, I saw experienced thru-hikers struggling with this far more than people who had never hiked the AT or PCT.

When you go NOBO, the desert section of New Mexico is about as flat as hiking comes. If you’re already used to experiencing your body’s capabilities after hiking for five straight months, it can be difficult to self-regulate your pace at the start to prevent injuries. Many experienced thru-hikers hobbled through the northern stretch of New Mexico with overuse injuries — and many didn’t make it to Colorado at all.

The “trail” between Pie Town and Grants is literally a highway. I’m sending good vibes to your hips and knees — you’ll need them.

Additionally, hiking the AT or PCT won’t prepare you for the toll near-constant altitude can take on your body. Many previous completers of those trails found it hard to give themselves permission to take Colorado a little slower, despite constantly feeling weak, tired, and miserable. Colorado — as an objective fact — is the most scenic and enjoyable state of the entire trail. Do I dare say it’s the best state along any long-distance trail? Yes. I do.

Pro tip: put sunscreen inside your nostrils when hiking on snowpack above treeline. Don’t ask me how I know this.

If you hold your pace to a standard you set while on the AT or PCT, you will not enjoy these 700 miles as much as you could! By setting out on the CDT first, it’s easier to listen to your body and approach each section without expectation.

Missing the Purist Mentality

People have said this a million times: The CDT is a choose-your-own-adventure type of hike. While there is a redline from Mexico to Canada, there are countless accepted alternates along the way. Some of these alternates exist for the sole purpose of shaving off miles, but the majority allow you to see different terrain or a particularly beautiful view.

Or, in the Gila Alternate’s case, it allows you to be around abundant, flowing water for the first time all trail.

Many hikers I met — specifically the AT veterans — had a hard time letting go of the idea that a successful thru-hike means touching every blaze and following the trail exactly as FarOut presents it. Starting with the CDT allowed me to define “successful thru-hike” on my own terms while on a trail that presents so many options. Why would I stick to the redline through the Wind River Range when I could reach Dubois all the same by following different and more scenic trails?

Both the Cirque of the Towers and Knapsack Col in the Wind River Range are absolutely worth the deviation from the redline.

A facet of the CDT I hated was the consistent judgment and disparaging of others’ alternate choices. No matter what you chose — the long way, the short way, the hard way, the easy way — someone would magically spawn near you to share why they thought you made the wrong decision. I never had a first-time thru-hiker try, intentionally or inadvertently, to make me feel bad about how I approached the CDT.

No Comparison

Here, we’ve arrived at the crux of my argument. Parts of the CDT — as with any long trail! — simply suck. Hiking the CDT first won’t allow you to feel joy at roasting in the desert sun or pounding pavement between Pie Town and Grants. What it will do, however, is remove your ability to double down on a bad mood by comparing the worst parts of the CDT to the best parts of the other trails. 

Yes, I’m sure Maine in July is a beautiful time. Bemoaning this fact while trudging through the Great Divide Basin, however, does nothing to make the section easier. A lack of comparison allows you to accept the CDT for what it is and roll a little easier with the punches. I promise — for every road walk in the blazing sun, you’ll be repaid in expansive alpine vistas and clear mountain lakes.

I saw more rattlesnakes in the Basin than I did throughout the entirety of New Mexico. And cried more. Perhaps the two are related?

I saw myself having an easier time than my more experienced friends who found it impossible not to hold the most frustrating parts of the CDT to the standards of the AT and PCT.

I’m excited to eventually hike the other two trails and be consistently pleasantly surprised at the clear signage, abundant trail magic, and less life-threatening weather. Or maybe I’ll just find new ways in which the other two trails fail to live up to the CDT and struggle just as hard. That seems the more likely possibility.

The Biggest Predictor of a Successful Thru-Hike

A random injury-causing accident or family emergency can strike at any time on any trail to any person. Overuse injuries don’t discriminate based on previous experience. The controllable factor that will greatly influence your successful completion of a thru-hike is passion.

I met several people on the CDT who were gritting their teeth and suffering through the trail to check this trail off on their way to their Triple Crown. In a way, that’s commendable — it takes a lot of mental toughness to continue forward when your heart isn’t in it. Yet I feel this mentality does a disservice both to the trail and to yourself. 

I would not have made it through the snow in the San Juans if I didn’t feel such unbridled joy at being there.

It saddens me to think anyone feels obligated to hike a trail — whether that be a perceived obligation to “check off” the CDT or feeling they must hike a different trail before attempting the CDT. Every thru-hike will have moments of intense physical and mental struggle. Whether you’re stumbling through Pennsylvania, dreading the NorCal monotony, or reentering the desert in the Great Basin, a thru-hike will test your commitment to the trail time and time again. 

When choosing which trail to attempt, pick the one you feel strongest about. That extra little reserve of passion will certainly bolster your mood throughout the trail and may just be the difference between reaching the terminus and choosing to head home early.  

Trusting Yourself

I’m not here trying to talk you into hiking the CDT (although you totally should) or pretending that you can set out at the Mexican border with zero backpacking experience and expect the next 3,000 miles to be a walk in the park. I am, however, challenging the idea that the CDT needs to be the final thru-hike of the Triple Crown.

One of my first nights on the trail! I may have had no idea what lay ahead, but I certainly possessed the skills to figure it out as I went. (No, I didn’t carry two BearVaults)

The following advice goes for any first-time thru-hiker, regardless of which trail you’re hiking: learn the risks of the trail, familiarize yourself with your gear, listen to advice from more experienced hikers (to an extent), and most importantly, trust yourself.

Life is both too short and too unpredictable to spend time on any trail other than the one you care about most.

My final piece of advice? Jump in the lake at the northern terminus. You’ve earned the dip.

READ NEXT –

• My Perfect Setup: How My Gear Changed From the CT to the JMT to the CDT
• CDT Thru-Hike Stats: Showers Make Thru-Hikers Sad and Other Data-Driven Insights From the Trail

Featured image: Photo via Katie Jackson. Graphic design by Chris Helm.