Returning from hiking 1,300km across New Zealand, Jon was feeling like a new person – but things didn’t pan out quite how he expected.

 

Setting out on a three month thru-hike comes with a wonderful mix of emotions… excitement at the impending challenges; joy for newfound freedom, and anticipation of the simplicity of the trail. 

Months of route planning and logistics, gear shakedowns, and preparing the body are finally paying off. There’s a healthy dose of trepidation mixed in too – but it’s a good nervousness that signals something challenging yet super exciting. 

Then the routine settles in, you get your trail legs, start meeting other thru-hikers, and life is good. Step by step, peak by peak, the adventure unfolds. 

 

 

But if you’re in the planning stages of your first thru-hike (or any other properly big adventure which means months away from home), have you ever stopped to think: ‘What happens when the adventure ends?’

And no, I’m not talking about booking your return flight, cleaning out your pack, and returning to work. I’m talking about the much deeper impacts your adventure will have on your life… and how to cope with the fact that your experience will (sometimes drastically) change you, but the world you return to may not have changed much at all.

The Strangest Part of the Journey Was Coming Home

Returning home after spending three months on the Te Araroa trail in New Zealand was such a mixed bag of feelings. After waking up each day with very few decisions beyond, ‘Where am I hiking today?’ and ‘Which flavour dehy meal will I cook tonight?’, being back home felt familiar – yet strange.

 

 

I knew my outlook on life had changed quite profoundly over the course of the hike, but I wasn’t quite sure how it would feel to step back into familiar surroundings with such a changed perspective. 

Reuniting with my partner Kate and my two pups was so welcoming, and such a comfort to return to. This mingled pleasantly with overwhelming gratitude for Kate’s acceptance and support while I chased my dreams.

Yet while setting off on this adventure felt like stepping into the unknown, returning home wasn’t all wonderful reunions. I was deeply uncertain of how well I could integrate back into the routine of home life after having the adventure of a lifetime. 

 

 

I mean, how do you even begin to explain to folks back home what it was like to scale peaks before dawn for the most amazing sunrise you’ve ever seen; to drop your sweaty pack after a 30km day and jump into a crystal clear mountain river for the best swim of your life; or to watch a fellow hiker get swept down rapids?

And to wake up and do it all again, day after day, for months on end?

Luckily, thru-hiking (especially solo, as I did) gives you lots of time to think on the trail. So as the finish line approached, I started pondering the knotty problem of how to navigate a successful return to home. 

Going from hiking 25km a day to… what exactly?

Life on the trail is simple. Each trail day has clear goals: hike from A to B; fuel your body; soak up the landscapes you’ve worked so hard to reach; set up camp; and sleep. 

You have very few possessions – just what you carry – so life is simple. You’re constantly moving and coming into new surroundings, and it’s been well documented that novelty causes the brain’s perception of time to slow down. 

 

 

After the simplicity of the trail, coming home can seem… well, less free. 

You have obligations again. You’re bombarded by notifications. You settle back into familiar surroundings but realise that the routine of the trail is very different to the routine of home, which rarely gives the constant sense of achievement and wonder that the trail provides. 

On top of all this, I’d just had an absolute banger of a time hiking through magical landscapes, yet friends and family back home had just been ticking along in their daily lives, not really understanding what it’s truly like on the trail.

The People I Came Home to Didn’t Understand the Joys of Trail Life

Kate had spent three challenging months working full time in a demanding job, managing the household and the two dogs, all while flying solo. She was my biggest fan cheering me on, but obviously her attention was focused on getting through until I made it home. 

And then there were the catchups with friends and family. Try telling someone you’ve just spent three months hiking over 1,300km through New Zealand, and believe me – you can’t do justice to the magnitude of what you’ve experienced in a single conversation.

 

 

I found the whole experience quite isolating – feeling like no-one really ‘got’ what I’d been through. And it wasn’t until after I was home that I truly started to value the friendships I’d formed on the trail – keeping the trail banter going with these kindred spirits was priceless. 

It’s funny how I felt more lonely after coming home than I ever did while hiking solo in the New Zealand wilderness.

I Wasn’t the Same Person After This Adventure

While planning my Te Araroa thru-hike, I naturally went down the rabbit hole of books, blogs, YouTube, and Instagram posts. A common theme I discovered was that thru-hikes are often an escape for people who are struggling with something – toxic relationships, unsatisfactory careers, physical or emotional abuse.

 

 

Whatever the reason, there’s no doubt that completing this kind of adventure is, quite simply, life-changing. This will mean different things for everyone, but for me, it meant quite unexpected and deep personal growth. 

My decision to thru-hike wasn’t driven by a need to escape anything toxic (thankfully!) – just a sense of adventure and a hunger to challenge myself. I hadn’t even considered personal growth as a by-product of my adventure, but as the kilometres started racking up I began to notice change.

I became acutely aware of what both my body and mind were becoming capable of. Smashing a 30km day with over 2,000m of vertical ascent, while carrying a pack laden with eight days of food surprised me, and my mental baseline of my limits kept shifting. 

Meanwhile, chronic aches and pains I’d had for years from long hours at the computer faded away – the constant movement and focus on my posture gradually setting my body right. 

 

 

But the biggest change by far was an increased ability to adapt to change. My personality has always been fairly rigid and controlling – I like order, organisation, and efficiency. I’ve worked hard at tempering these traits over the years, yet progress was slow. 

By comparison, my ability to cope with change had increased exponentially during the thru-hike. 

I became much more open to changing plans based on what the trail threw at me – an absolute necessity to avoid putting myself and others in danger in the more remote and challenging sections of the trail.

So, after recognising what had changed within me, how could I hold onto these newfound superpowers?

How do you keep the good bits?

I’m quite fortunate that by becoming more adaptable to change, I could naturally tackle these new challenges and emotions head on and start integrating Jon 2.0 back into home life. 

Approaching each decision with my new mindset of openness, curiosity, and flexibility helped the transition immensely. 

I was also enjoying unprecedented levels of fitness after this adventure, which I desperately wanted to retain. This motivated me to get back on my mountain bike with renewed passion, focusing on structured training and cross country racing. 

Naturally, I aimed to keep hiking and spending time outdoors, and I loved how my time in New Zealand had given me such valuable experience and confidence in the wilderness.

 

 

Simply put, it made sense to prioritise what I valued and enjoyed most from my thru-hike, and also keep building on how my body and mind had strengthened and grown. 

It’s been challenging to integrate these things around work and home commitments, while filtering out aspects from my previous life I’d chosen to let go of. But hey – I’d just hiked 1,300km – I knew I was more than capable of making it work.

Finding a New Normal

Some of what I’ve said may not resonate with you if you’re still in the planning stages of your big adventure, so let me leave you with a few nuggets to carry with you on the trail:

  • Undertaking a challenge of this magnitude will change your perspective on life
  • If you can be receptive to these changes while you’re on the trail, and recognise how you’re changing and growing, you can take time on the trail to process what it means for you
  • Processing this change will help identify potential challenges for when you do finish the adventure, and perhaps give some insight into how your new superpowers can help navigate these challenges

I truly hope that your adventure allows you to overcome your own set of challenges and come out the other side as a more complete version of yourself.

You won’t figure out everything on the trail itself – the journey within continues long after the adventure ends. But if you can figure out how to hold onto the trail once you stop walking, then I guarantee life itself will continue to be one big adventure!

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