No question, contest, discussion necessary. Hiking alone is freedom. Hiking with somebody(ies) is not.

I hike solo quite a lot. Every year I do a 10-14 day section hike on the Appalachian Trail, usually solo. It's a bit by choice and a bit by circumstance. My kids are grown and I just don't have buds to hike with for that long. I could probably find a companion through the hiker sites or on the trail, but frankly I really like the solitude.

That being said, it's the AT. Fairly highly traveled, extremely well annotated trails, campsites, water sources, even trail ups/downs. I have gone several days without seeing other hikers but if I had a problem I'm fairly confident it wouldn't be too long before someone came along. I don't think I would be so quick to hike solo on a less documented and traveled trail.

I'm a careful hiker, including how I step over logs and climb. I carry Doug's Survival Kit plus other selected items. My wife knows my itinerary and I check in by cell at least every other day. I sign every trail register. I greet other hikers and exchange names.I don't go off trail and no shortcuts.

Hikermor raises a good point - in some cases you could be less safe with a buddy because you may take more chances!

Great thread - I look forward to what others say.

I like that!

Yes.
I regularly hike, ski, road bike, trail run, snowshoe, mountain bike, flat water paddle, jeep and climb solo on trips ranging from a few hours to several days. I'd get out a lot less if I had to find a partner every time I felt like going outside. I've never had any serious problems in more than 20 years of solo activities. It could happen someday but that possibility isn't enough to keep me sitting inside or just doing "safe" things alone.

Three benefits of a hiking buddy:
- Another set of shoulders to carry the load.
- A conscience when you are about to do something needlessly stupid.
- Someone to outrun in case of a bear attack.

Things can very quickly go wrong in the wild. A buddy can do for you what no other piece of gear can: they can call for help when you are unable to do so. Aron Ralston and Bill Jeracki would still have their limbs had they decided that a buddy was an essential piece of gear.

And now, a cautionary tale:

Years ago when I was much younger and dumber, I went on a three-day, solo, ultralight hike in the Santiam Wilderness in Oregon. I think my pack weighed under 15 pounds, and that's counting food and fuel. The only flashlight I had was on my Swiss Army knife, which also happened to be my only sharp. For shelter I had a bivy-sack sewn from Tyvek and a space blanket for warmth. I think the heaviest piece of gear I carried was a water filter, because I'm too impatient to wait for tablets to do their work.

It was wonderful. I didn't see another human being for three whole days! I don't think I've ever felt quite as free and easy as I felt when that Oh-my-God-I-just-climbed-four-miles-in-one-hour feeling set in. It's amazing what you can do when you abandon sanity and charge head-long at the wild.

But when I arrived at Chimney Peak ahead of schedule, I decided to climb it. There was a trail most of the way up, but it got progressively more wild as I neared the top. On the way down, I lost the trail.

That area of the Santiam Wilderness is basically two halves of a large ravine leading down to the headwaters of the Santiam. By the time I was able to find a landmark after scrambling my way down the peak, I had completely separated myself from any reasonable hope of returning to the trail without some rope.

What followed was a day-long scramble following a tributary down into the ravine, slogging wet through the creek as I descended about 1500 feet over the space of about a mile. I camped at the river that night, completely exhausted.

On day two I waded several miles up the river, and then scrambled up the other side of the canyon only to find a critical bridge that I had intended to cross had been washed out by a storm earlier in the year.

Then I attempted to follow a deer trail over the mountain and quickly got rather hopelessly lost. With night approaching I stupidly began to run, hoping I could find a vantage point to get a bearing. I lost the light, and it was overcast, so with no other alternatives, I settled in on a ledge, made my peace with God about perhaps not getting home, and tried to get some rest in the rain.

That night my pack was visited by a large mammal with big teeth. I'm not certain it was a bear -- I just woke to a very loud, very mushy chewing of my rucksack. I grabbed the safety whistle on my neck and nearly hyperventilated while blasting it until those deep, moist sounds moved on down the hill before I drifted off to sleep again.

In the morning I woke to clear skies and found Chimney Peak mocking me from across the ravine. I took a bearing, picked my way across the hillside, and found the Forest Service road I had intended to walk out on. I actually arrived at my designated pick-up location well-ahead of my ride.

I wouldn't trade the experience that I had, especially considering that one of the imponderables that became crystal clear that night on the ledge was that I hadn't told my girlfriend that I loved her, and that I deeply wished I had. I later did, and today we're married. Given that I'd rather be with her than without her, I won't go it alone in the wild again without a buddy.

I know that I was both overconfident and under-prepared when I left for that trip. While I was an experienced hiker, my youth led me to accept some unnecessary risks. I deviated from my plan just over one hour into day one. I made increasingly foolish decisions until I had a clear-headed moment at daybreak on day three. Any number of times, particularly during the jaunt down the ravine, I could have fallen and knocked myself unconscious and been unable to get out of there. Even if I had been carrying proper gear, even if I had stayed on course, if something critical and debilitating had happened to me, I wouldn't have come home alive.

Excellent post djlmwh, Thanks for sharing your experience. Mike

I can't think of any downsides to going with another person.

With all things being equal, you each carry your own gear. You may share food/cooking/cleaning.

I fall and break my leg, otherwise ok - Partner calls for help, makes camp, we wait.
I fall and have some sort of head injury, but am ambulatory - Partner calls for help and shelters me, worst case guides me out.
I fall and am unconcious, not able to move. Partner secures the area, calls for help - and in worst case scenario, shelters me and beats feet for help.

If I'm alone in first case, possible second, I call for help and wait, alone. In third case, I'm hosed - the chipmunks devour me and I am never heard from again until some hunters stumble across some bones 10 years later.

I will go on short hikes, in the local area, solo, but nothing overnight.

All good responses. Thanks to Dagny for the ladies' perspective. Here in the SouthEast we've had a few lone women attacked on trails.

The whole "solo or no?" question has to be rooted in what you want to get out of the experience. If the sole issue is safety, then never go in the woods at all. Beyond that, know the risks, know thyself, and reap the rewards of prudent adventuring.

One big thing I'd say to my fellow solists is this: be MORE willing to back off than you would if you had partners. IMO the threshold for bailing on "the plan" has to be lower for the soloist.



Word! Years ago I rope-soloed a challenging 2 day big wall climb. It went off without a hitch (get it...?). The closest I came to dying was on the drive home when a guy ran a stopsign and almost crashed into me.

I would agree there is no "right" answer. The odds of you getting the help you need are far better when you have someone with you. But, doesn't the odds of something happening to either one of you double? I was hiking/camping with a buddy, I fell and was trapped between 2 rocks in a small section of a river we had crossed two days earlier... he froze up on me. Make sure you carry someone capable of helping should the need arise.

I once told my wife that when I'm old and decrepit, to drive me into a forest, drop me off facing west, and let me turn into bear poop.

I guess chipmunk poop isn't too bad an alternative. No nursing home for me, thank you very much. I'd hang myself with my catheter.