After five years and five incredible multi-day solo hikes, Explorer Karolina wonders what’s next? Hint: more hiking, but maybe a little differently.

How It Started

Every year for the past five years, I’ve taken myself on a solo multi-day hike. When I was 19, I decided I wanted to do something hard to celebrate my 20th birthday (naturally). I can’t pinpoint exactly where the idea came from, except perhaps, as this reel puts it, having read Wild at a critical juncture in life (in my case, the angsty age of 15).

Read more: How To Start Hiking For Absolute Beginners

Five years ago, I was at a loss with myself, flailing for some semblance of an identity. I’d moved interstate for university the previous year, and after two tumultuous semesters, returned home to take a break. More questions than answers were popping up, rapidly and incessantly. So, I turned to the age-old friends – solitude and nature.

I picked a five-day trail two hours south of Adelaide and made effective use of the EOFY sales at Anaconda. I planned it well – I turned 20 the day I finished the hike.

Keen for a SA Day Hike? Read Karolina’s guide to Dhilba Guuranda-Innes National Park

 

Got the beautiful SA coastline all to myself

 

It was a formative experience. I learnt the importance of proper planning and gear testing, as early on the trail I realised I didn’t bring enough fuel for my little hexi stove.

I experienced the euphoria of hiker’s high for the first time, but also felt an intense fear while wild camping along the trail, painfully aware of being a young woman alone.

Four years later, and with many of Australia’s hiking trails under my belt (Larapinta Trail in 2021, Overland Track in 2022, the Grampians Peaks Trail in 2023) I completed my first overseas hike and the most physically challenging one yet – the GR R2 on Réunion Island.

From the glowy Larapinta Trail

To the snowy Overland Track

Looking Back at ‘Solo’

When I was 19, choosing to go solo was a grasp at identity and a bold claim towards independence. There was a lot of uncertainty surrounding my friendships too. I think I wanted to prove I could do what I wanted without anyone’s help.

‘I wonder if [multiple ex-boyfriends] would be surprised by what I’m doing’, I wrote in my journal.

I finished that hike triumphant, drunk from ticking off the parameters I’d constructed for myself. I swiftly decided it’d be a yearly tradition.

For a long time, ‘solo’ felt like a virtue in and of itself, as if the hike would be worth less if I did it with other people.

‘Take some friends with you’, my darling mother pleaded.
‘The point is to do it by myself Mum!’

But after five years of doing it by myself, the pedestal on which ‘solo’ rests has begun to wobble. That isn’t to say it was unshakably planted atop one from the beginning.

My journal entries from that first hike don’t hide a sense of loneliness, fleeting yet nonetheless present.

‘When I arrived at camp, I wished I had another person with me.’

Similar statements are found in journals from 2021-2024. But this feeling of loneliness didn’t outweigh the pleasure of solitude in nature or the sense of achievement I derived from my hikes. And it still doesn’t. However, I’ve begun to question the endless pursuit of ‘a solo hike every year’.

 

To share this would have been nice from time to time

 

After finishing the GR R2 last October, questions bubbled away. ‘Solo’ at what cost? And to what end? I imagine myself at 60, listing off 40 years of annual solo hikes. Is it doable? Of course. Most things are, with enough time, money, energy, etc.

However, in life you can’t do everything. And I wonder what kinds of sacrifices I’d have to make in pursuit of this numerical, quantifiable goal. What counts as a long enough distance anyway? So far, all my hikes have been five days or longer. Would I be satisfied with a two-night weekend adventure? What if I spent five-months walking a trail like the Te Araroa? Could I take a break the next year?

But, most importantly, do I really want to have such an Excel spreadsheet approach to an activity that’s supposed to be my reprieve from the modern world?

What was it like to go solo for the first time? Karolina shares more reflections from her SA trip.

 

Maybe it’s time to change my perspective to hiking

Looking Forward

Five years after that first solo hike, the glaring question mark of self has mostly dissipated. At 24 I feel a lot more grounded in ‘me’, even if the outer boundaries of ‘me’ are always slightly in flux. The compass needle has found a somewhat consistent direction. I’m not flailing anymore.

In a way these hikes have served their purpose. They’ve no doubt contributed to me growing into a confident, self-assured, and courageous woman, who now has a solid bank of evidence of setting her mind to something and getting it done.

Each step on the trail has been a self-affirming experience

 

And I admit, I don’t feel like I have to prove myself so much anymore (deleting Instagram off my phone for months at a time probably also helped with this one). I’ve found some peace.

And so, upon reaching any milestone, you pause to consider the next one. After all, what’s the value of a goal that’s never ending, never changing?

As I’ve gained experience, my appetite for more challenging terrain, conditions, and navigation has also increased. Some remote and very technical hikes, like the Drakensberg Grand Traverse in South Africa, now sit on my list, but walking them solo starts to push into the unsafe zone.

Read more: Why My First Solo Overnight Hike Was (Almost) a Disaster

It’d be nice to join a group of more experienced hikers and learn from them, and the safest option for me too. There are many landscapes we don’t experience in Australia, and part of respecting the conditions is not going in blind. Learning through and with people keeps you safe.

 

Now I’m seeking company in remote, unfamiliar places

 

Nature is, ultimately, meant to be shared. My many years of individual adventure have fostered a yearning for community. I often think about Christopher McCandless’ quote at the end of Into the Wild, that ‘Happiness is only real when shared’. There are many interpretations, but the core message I think is true. Connecting with community in nature is a special, wonderful thing – one I’ve grown to value more and more.

I must note that ‘solo’ has also been a product of logistical necessity – if I waited for people to join, I simply wouldn’t have done as many hikes. Everyone has their own life and priorities. Nevertheless, I’m increasingly drawn to the idea of making a hike more accessible and inviting people along.

 

Can’t wait to see a few more boots in this frame

 

For the first time, I have a partner who’s as excited as I am about spending two weeks in the bush with no shower. I’d love to experience a long-distance trail with him.

Additionally, I want hiking to be a net-good, especially for tourism. Many places in Asia or Africa require hiking guides.

This ensures that money is spent locally, people have jobs, and that hikers have a more culturally enriching experience. Maybe in these places, the disembodied solo hiker doesn’t always align with ethical tourism values?

So, after at least 726km spent on the trail (of course my goal-driven individualistic-society self counted it up), it’s time to be less dogmatic. I love hiking, with all my heart. I want to do it for the rest of my life and around the whole world.

When I’m 60, I hope I get to look back on a lifetime of hiking experiences, in diverse places, with diverse people. ‘Solo’ will no doubt play a part, but it’d be a shame if it were the only part.

 Breathtaking Multi-Day Treks for Solo or Group Hikers

At We Are Explorers we take great pride in presenting content that is fact checked, well-researched, and based on both real world experience and reliable sources. As a B-Corp we uphold high ethical standards and strive to create content that is inclusive, with an an increased focus on underserved communities, Indigenous Australians, and threats to our environment. You can read all about it in our Editorial Standards.