Let’s Just Admit It: Thru-Hiking Is a Vacation

Look, I get that no one wants to hear this. Thru-hikers understandably get upset whenever anyone labels their thru-hike a “vacation.” Heck, I was insulted when people said this to me on the AT. Just last year, I became righteously indignant when someone called my thru-hike of the Pyrenean Haute Route a “walking holiday.”

Thru-hiking is WORK, people. Hard, hard work, and I need the world to understand that. Shun the nonbelievers who say otherwise!

Vacation just doesn’t quite capture the spirit of the thing, you know? When most of us hear vacation, we think of a week at Disney World or cocktails on the beach — not six months of voluntary suffering and relentless discipline.

And yet …

Thru-Hiking Is No Picnic, but It’s Still a Vacation

Photo: Sunney Mahalak (on Te Araroa)

 Thru-hiking is powerful and transformative. It is uncomfortable. For some it is a journey of spiritual healing. It is hard. Thru-hiking is not long, leisurely walks on the beach at sunset.

But it’s still a voluntary activity. It’s still a choice. Thru-hiking is between you and you: no one is making you do it (I hope), and no one’s life hangs in the balance over the success or failure of your journey.

Merriam-Webster defines vacation as “a period spent away from home or business in travel or recreation.” Guys, the word might not evoke just what we mean when we talk about our hikes, but let’s face it. By definition, thru-hiking is a vacation.

I’m not addressing the tiny fraction of people who do earn a living from the trail as professional athletes, content creators, guides, or whatever else. For you, thru-hiking is a cool job, but it’s not a vacation. You have responsibilities out there and will face real-world consequences if you neglect them.

The Litmus Test

Photo: Dan Purdy

That’s the litmus test. Is anyone else a stakeholder in your hike (beyond just emotional investment, that is)? If you wake up one morning and decide you don’t feel like hiking that day, is anyone besides you affected — a dependent who’s relying on your income, an employer or business partner, a client or follower who’s expecting content or other work product from you? If yes, thru-hiking is not a vacation for you: it’s an occupation.

If the answer is no, as is the case for most of us, your hike is a vacation. You may have many reasons for hiking, but if one of the primary ones isn’t “business,” “career advancement,” or “ensuring my family’s survival in this capitalistic modern world,” then this is a recreational activity. No one’s making you do it.

After finishing the AT in 2018, I went through an aimless period career-wise where I didn’t want to return to science, but I wasn’t sure what direction to take next. “Backpacking guide” and “start a hiking website” were both suggested to me frequently.

I shied away from these options because, as much as I loved hiking, I didn’t want to make my hobby into a profession and suck all the joy out of it. I ended up working for this delicious little website, which is just close enough to the hiking world to make me happy without making trail time feel like work.

Hiking Is Not a Job — Thank Goodness

Photo: Katie Frawley

This is a job, these words I’m typing right now for money. I love it to bits, but it’s a job. Hiking is not a job — I’m very clear about that. The time I spend on trail is something completely separate, and thank goodness for that.

That’s kind of the point, right? To get away from the stringent demands of the plastic world and do something that’s just for me? The trail is where I go to refill the well so I can better meet my obligations.

I can recall a climb or two that made me question why I wasn’t spending my time off lying on a sofa somewhere reading books and sipping tea. That would be fun! But no, I just had to go climb this godforsaken mountain instead.

Ultimately, I enjoy those challenges: that’s why I seek them over and over again. How I choose to spend my leisure time doesn’t negate the fact that it is leisure time.

You Badass, You!

The fact that thru-hiking is a volunteer activity arguably makes it even more challenging. We are called to do hard things in our lives, but it’s different when we choose the hard thing. When we are accountable only to ourselves, that requires the ultimate commitment.

Indeed, thru-hiking carries some of the same demands of a job. Rain or shine, you still have to show up on the trail and put in a good day of walking most days if you’re going to finish the trail — even on the hard days when you’d rather stay in bed.

A veteran I knew told me the AT was harder for him than being in the Marines. In the Marines, there was a chain of command, a very clear set of expectations of him, and definitive consequences if he didn’t follow through.

On the AT there was none of that — whether to push through the discomfort and keep hiking fell on his shoulders and his alone. I’m not sure every vet would agree with his assessment, but at least for him, the intrinsic motivation required for thru-hiking was the greater challenge.

So there you go. If someone calling your thru-hike a “walking holiday” makes you feel threatened or insulted, a) maybe look within yourself and examine whether your motives for hiking really have that much to do with other peoples’ opinions of you, and b) just remember, the fact that you’re spending your holiday doing this really hard and epic thing makes you even MORE of a badass. Go you!

What’s Wrong With Vacation Anyway?

Photo: Elaine Che

Many of us tend to get defensive when someone calls our hike a vacation. Non-hikers don’t always grasp the magnitude of thru-hiking — what it means to us or what it takes to actually make it happen. Calling it a vacation can seem belittling and dismissive.

Yet it’s true. I don’t have to thru-hike, I choose to, and I feel lucky that I have the freedom to do so. Certainly not everyone does. I’m proud of my achievements on trail, but I’m also grateful that I’ve had the opportunity to pursue them.

Plenty of people plan extreme vacations. Climbing Mount Everest is very dangerous and requires rigorous training. Does that mean it’s not a vacation? I mean, the Sherpas certainly aren’t on vacation — but their charges are.

I rarely go out of my way to bill my thru-hikes as “holidays,” but if someone says it to me, I embrace the term in the spirit in which it was intended. Heck yeah, I go hard when I plan a vacation.

I’m a human being, and I’ll own that I crave recognition and validation from other people. But at the end of the day, I’m not out on the trail for anyone else but me, so it doesn’t really matter what anyone calls my hike: vacation, odyssey, walk in the woods, Questionable Life Choice No. 4. The point is I’m doing it. So go enjoy your vacation, you badass — and if your budget allows it, treat yourself to the occasional trailside mai-tai. You deserve it.