It’s hard to know what to expect when you sign up to hike 100 miles with a group of strangers you’ve never met. There are only two guarantees: the way will be beautiful and the way will be hard.
This summer, I’ll be trekking a long stretch of the John Muir Trail with a guided group from Wildland Trekking: Two weeks of alpine lakes, intense elevation gain (essentially 300 flights of stairs per day) and one major summit—Mount Whitney, the tallest peak in the lower 48 states.
It’s not my first time hiking, but it is my first time going on a group trip like this. I’ve always been more of a solo strategist than a group project type of person, but hiking the John Muir Trail intimidated me greatly. It also requires more planning than I’m naturally inclined for, so when the opportunity came, I couldn’t pass it up.
Is training enough?
I signed up for a gym membership and have a training plan, but my thoughts drift between which trail runners to pack and whether I’m out of my depth. Generally, I like to take things easy, trusting I’ll figure it out when the moment comes. But this time, the margin for error feels narrower. In their welcome email, Wildland Trekking ominously stated that this was one of the hardest trips they offer. And it wasn’t just that I had to train for myself. I had to train to make sure I could keep up with the rest of the group.
That’s something Abbey, our group leader (trail name: “Dirtnap”), reminded us of on our first call. “You’re not training for yourself,” she said. “You’re training for the person next to you.” She emphasized that as a trail family, we weren’t just responsible for ourselves but for each other. Training properly before our trip meant we’d all enjoy the journey more.
I keep turning that over in my mind.
During that same call, we went around and introduced ourselves. One hiker mentioned she’s great at staying positive when others feel down. Another chimed in with a similar gift. I bit my lip. What do I bring besides a decent sense of direction and a bad attitude toward blisters? When I’m in a bad mood, I’d rather nurse it alone than be the cheerleader at mile 16 in pouring rain.
I’m nervous. Not just about the weight of my pack—35 to 45 pounds, according to Wildland’s prep email—but about what it means to join a “trail family” I didn’t choose. There’s a part of me that resists the predetermined closeness of a group trip.
But this tension between forced proximity and genuine connection isn’t unique. It turns out that shared hardship really does bring people closer.
In 2021, 12% of U.S. adults said they had no close friends, quadrupling from just 3% in 1990, according to the American Survey Center. When forming friendships feels harder than ever, maybe sharing miles—and the inevitable struggles that come along with that—offers a different kind of shortcut. I think it’s also part of why more travelers are turning to guided group adventures. In a world where loneliness rates have surged, structured discomfort offers a rare chance to forge real connection. It’s like summer camp, but for adults.
Of course, proximity doesn’t guarantee friendship. It only creates the opportunity. The rest is up to us. And that’s where I falter. I’ve done enough solo adventures to know how well I can show up for myself. When times are tough, it’s easy to retreat inward, to protect my energy. This trip leaves no option to ghost the dinner circle or pretend I didn’t hear someone ask how my day was. I’ll need to show up repeatedly for people I don’t yet know. It requires trust, empathy and a willingness to see and be seen.
Right now, I don’t have the answers. I haven’t started the hard part. I’ve only just started training (looking at you, inclines on the treadmill). But, I haven’t spent a night sweating in my sleeping bag or laying out laughing after an afternoon alpine swim.
The benefits of physically challenging yourself
But there’s good news. If it works, things might actually feel easier. Research suggests that when we face physical challenges, support makes the load feel lighter—literally. In one study from the Journal of Experimental Social Psychology, participants who stood at the base of a steep hill with a friend perceived the hill as less steep than those who were alone. Simply thinking about a supportive friend had a similar effect.
Maybe that’s the real summit: not just getting up the mountain, but learning how to share the climb. In the process, I’m hoping to learn whether I can really show up for a group—emotionally and physically—in ways I usually save for myself.
Photo by nd3000/iStock.com
