Thru-Hiking with Irritable Bowel Syndrome (IBS)

The following is a guest post by David “30 Foot” Sweet.

I am not a medical professional. I’m just a guy who was diagnosed with irritable bowel syndrome and went on to thru-hike the Pacific Crest Trail anyway. Given Badger and Chaunce’s obsession with poop stories, I am a little surprised the Trek doesn’t already have an article about IBS.

I do not think my symptoms are particularly severe or even typical — but for anyone out there who has IBS, I want to encourage you not to let your symptoms hold you back. Thru-hiking with IBS is possible, and in my case, I felt it even made my symptoms more manageable. This article is based on my experiences and conversations with my doctors.

Ed. note: We’re hikers, not doctors. The information in this post is not medical advice: always consult a qualified healthcare provider regarding medical conditions.

My Background With IBS

The first time I noticed GI tract problems was in college. Before a big test, I’d frequently have to take bathroom breaks. The first few times I was convinced I had eaten something bad but it kept happening. I entertained the idea that I might have a problem. Before college I was in the army, and I didn’t seem to have the same problems. As an Infantryman I was constantly under stress with no issues. Still, dozens of examples of my GI tract reacting poorly to stressful situations couldn’t be denied. I decided I had developed a nervous stomach.

As I got older my nervous stomach reared its ugly head more frequently. Entering my thirties, just about anything would set it off. I rarely seemed to have “normal” bowel movements. Soft stool became the norm. As I reached my forties, I’d often have to go to the bathroom for a sit down three times before lunch. This wasn’t normal, but I was too embarrassed to bring it up to my doctor.

Then I had my first bout of iritis. Iritis is the inflammation of the iris. I woke up one morning, walked into the bathroom, flipped on the switch, and immediately fell to the floor in pain. My wife carted me and our very young boys off to the ER in darkness. Several weeks later, after religiously treating the eye with anti-inflammatory steroid drops, I was right as rain.

Unfortunately, the bouts of iritis kept recurring. Eventually, my eye doctor ordered a test. The results indicated I had a genetic predisposition for arthritis and IBS in addition to iritis. I answered a couple questions that convinced the doctor I didn’t have arthritis, or at least not yet. When asked if I had irritable bowel syndrome, I described the symptoms of my nervous stomach. The eye doctor looked at me like I was an idiot and said, “you have IBS.” He had me talk to my regular doctor about it.

My GP said she didn’t think it was bad enough to prescribe medicine and handed me a pamphlet. That was 15 years ago. The pamphlet title was something like “Keep Moving.” It said to avoid alcohol and caffeine. Eat lots of leafy greens and keep moving: walking, running, biking. Lots of exercise would improve my chances of having healthy bowel movements.

After the Diagnosis

I took that last bit to heart and started hiking and running regularly after years of letting myself go. In civilization a bathroom always seems to be pretty close. I preferred to hike in the afternoon, when my symptoms seemed better, and I‘d wear a trail vest with toilet paper. When I ran, I’d do a small loop near the house, come home, have a little break in the bathroom, and then do a bigger loop.

The first time IBS seemed to impact my hiking experience was while summiting Mount Shasta in California. There are strict rules about human waste beyond the trailhead. I only got one “wag” bag at the ranger station. I used it early on and I really needed to go again once we were at our camp spot near Helen Lake. I am afraid I left some human waste in between the rocks up there.

My boys got older and were active in Boy Scouts. I became a BSA leader. I really enjoyed it, but I was afraid I’d embarrass myself in front of the scouts and other leaders. It eventually happened. On our first day in Desolation Wilderness, I let a fart fly and was sure I came away unscathed. A leader later said I had something on my pants. I had sat on a sticky log a little while earlier and was sure it was sap. Later, in my tent, I discovered I needed to do some stealth laundry.

In real life I normally have 2-3 soupy bowel movements every morning, and it’s only by afternoon that I start to feel right.

Symptoms Are Better Outside

In contrast, I discovered as I got more and more into backpacking that my symptoms were more manageable on the trail. For the most part, while backpacking, I could hold it. Here are the reasons I think that is.

Like the pamphlet said, hiking keeps you moving. One of the benefits of moving is it jostles the guts. That lets the gas sneak around the stool. While you are moving outdoors you can pass gas without worrying about your corporate neighbors. Working in an office means holding those in, and that builds up pressure. Often, my visits to the office bathroom are to just find a safe place to stink up.

While backpacking, you are always fighting dehydration. I think that means my bowels dry out a little. I pee often; I don’t try to hold that at all. In the woods, every tree is a urinal. I think that further helps dry out my bowels.

On the trail I don’t drink any alcohol and often have no caffeine. If I have coffee, it’s just one small cup a day. I’ve heard from others that dehydrated meals tend to be more binding and can even cause constipation. So, it’s no surprise that they ease my IBS symptoms.

Today

I finished hiking the Pacific Crest Trail at the end of September 2023. Over the course of 125 hiking days, I had less than a handful of accidents. Multiple times I could hold it until I got to camp where a pit toilet was promised. Often I could hold it for the last 10 miles to town, which is unprecedented for me.

The reason I wrote this article was to encourage my fellow IBS brothers and sisters to not let the condition stop you from getting out there. In the woods I feel more normal. I mean, I’m not going to start using a backcountry bidet. I can’t carry that much water. I’ll always have to carry more toilet paper than the average guy, but that’s alright. I have IBS, and I am a thru-hiker.

My words of wisdom: Keep moving, pee a lot, let the farts fly, and if anyone notices a stain, tell them it’s sap.

About the Author

I’m David “30 Foot” Sweet: a US Army Infantry vet, retired BSA Scoutmaster, and 2023 PCT thru-hiker. I just got done hiking the Annapurna Circuit and out to Base Camp to see Mount Everest with my own eyes. Follow me on Youtube at youtube.com/@FocusAlready