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RSS Feed. Mail from the trail. Home Stories In the media About Contact. Mens sana in corpore sano is not a one-way street. While hiking in nature can positively impact your mental health, you also need good mental health to be a strong hiker. I recently met a young woman at a campsite who was ending her Chartreuse thru-hike on day two. Just two weeks earlier, I had dragged myself uphill during a 9 km hike. The only difference between now and then: my morale. We hikers love to put our gear on the kitchen scale and contemplate every gram. Cutting off the handle of our toothbrush to save a bit of weight? Yes puh-lease! But what about our emotional baggage? Unsurprisingly, it does not often come up when we prep for a trail. Still, their burden can be debilitating. Deciding which dehydrated veggies to pack. The pocket knife gets to come on the hike: 41 g! Hiking is nothing more than putting one foot in front of the other repeatedly. Easy enough. The decisive factor is your grit. I had been planning this hike for years, so why did something suddenly feel off? I decided to ignore my gut and concluded it was just nerves. I was on the brink of a great adventure after all. Or so I told myself. The more other hikers started to speed up, the more my body was begging me to stop. Frustrated and overwhelmed, I would cry while hiking. I too had dreamt of touching the green sign that signals the end of the 1, km desert stretch. But when I finally stood there, I felt nothing but exhaustion and shame for not reaching it faster than I had. Week after week my symptoms got worse: extreme fatigue, dizziness, brain fog. We tested and ruled out every possible cause: iron deficiency, shortage of electrolytes or protein, altitude sickness, sleep deprivation Nothing could explain my complaints. Nobody could explain what was wrong with me. On paper, I was healthy as a horse, but I could not walk up a flight of stairs without panting. At the time, I was convinced I was suffering from long Covid, but I now believe it was the onset of a burnout instead. What I needed, was safety and comfort. My stubbornness could have put myself and others in danger. What if I had fainted in Yosemite, far from any road or town? There are undoubtedly plenty of mental health benefits to exercising outdoors. Still, a hiking pole is not a magic wand. The trail may provide, but you need to show up with enough to give as well to face the challenges. Visiting Naples? Then most likely Mount Vesuvius is also part of your trip. Taking the shuttle up to the ticket gates, you'll get to peek into the world-famous crater. You might even spot some fumaroles, before buying a souvenir and heading back down with the crowds. Pretty good. Mix-and-matching Along the Cognoli path two with the Valley of Hell path one , we finally reach the icing on the cake: il Gran Cono path five. A shaded forest trail gradually takes us up for the first kilometres. Despite the mild temperatures, the coverage of the foliage is still pleasant. More open, narrow stretches follow, bordered by the yellow and pink of broom and red valerian. While the view of Ottaviano in the valley is beautiful in and of itself, the real magic happens when we turn up a little hill and the giant suddenly looms over us: Mount Vesuvius, causer of great destruction. In 79 AD, an eruption buried the entire town of Pompeii in ash. Although the volcano is in a quiescent stage, it is still an active threat to the densely populated city of Naples. Three million people live near enough to be affected by a future eruption, making the Vesuvius one of the most dangerous volcanoes in the world. Hiking up and down mounds of volcanic ash, we regularly have to stop to empty out our shoes. Not only the views of Mount Vesuvius are stunning; to our left, the Gulf of Naples appears below in all its azure splendour. We finally descend into the Valley of Hell. Despite its name, it looks nothing like the inferno : lush, lush and lush. The only hellish suffering it inflicts is an acute case of hay fever, when we cross its colourful fields that are in full bloom. Four other hikers, two mountain bikers and countless lizards. Those are all the living souls we meet until the trail joins the paved road that winds up to the ticket gates. Bored bus drivers are parked along the street, leaving their engines running while they wait. Vans manoeuvre in the crowded parking lot and souvenir shops demand our instant attention. Hordes gather by the gates, where the security staff only create more chaos when trying to clear up their confusion. Instant sensory overload. This allows you to skip the hustle and bustle in the congested parking lot altogether. Make sure to have a valid ticket, however, as the back entrance is also staffed by a ranger. In our case, a friendly woman opening the gate for us an hour ahead of our reservation. Under the threat of dark, menacing clouds, we swiftly make our way up a narrow trail to reach the popular semicircular ridge. There, we join the crowds to glance into the elliptical crater. At its widest, its diameter is m. Along its inner walls, some fumaroles give us the feeling of looking into an active volcano. No time to linger, though. A thunderstorm is imminent. The first lightning bolts pierce the sky as we start heading back down to the gate. Though probably not in the sense he intends it, we do agree. We are crazy in love with the mighty mountain towering over his hometown. Buy your ticket for the crater online before your visit. By combining the Vesuvius National Park trails one, two and five, we hiked a loop of roughly 22 km. For the past two months, we walked through barren hills and green forests. We admired the yucca plants, Joshua trees and colourful flowers, while becoming skilled at avoiding poison oak and poodle dog bush. We hiked through snow and fog, were sandblasted by the wind and melted in the heat. We day hiked, night hiked and siesta-ed during the hottest hours. In short: the desert was diverse, challenging and often surprising. We are fortunate to have made it here without any real injuries, although the hiker hobble most certainly is real. This well-known hiker phenomenon turns my body into that of a year-old for the first two minutes after I get up, no matter how briefly I sat down. The desert also reminded us that growth is often painful and messy. While we were hoping to hike bigger days by now, our average daily pace has plateaued at 27 kilometres. Not getting frustrated when we see other hikers fly by is a lesson we are still learning. Our town days in the desert were almost as colourful as the time we spent on trail. From being offered rides and a bottle of wine to accepting cold drinks, breakfast and coffee from numerous trail angels. We slept in makeshift bunk beds next to a creepy, old doll in Big Bear and stayed with a gun loving Scientologist in Wrightwood. My new favourite town hobby is rummaging through hiker boxes on the hunt for free food and gear. I even ate a box of cookies someone had left behind on a bench with a note saying they had never been opened, because free calories. Tomorrow, we head out into the Sierra Nevada with a new pair of shoes, ready to take on different challenges and be rewarded with stunning views. Tomorrow, we will be halfway done with the desert, which is hard to wrap our heads around. I figured, why try to find the right words to describe the desert, when Katy Perry has already summed it up so accurately? We were wrong when we thought we could send our rain gear home and right when buying those microspikes. It was black from all the burnt trees and white from the snow. It definitely was hot and cold, yes and no, in and out, up and down. We are doing great physically. Apart from feeling tired most days and a few blisters here and there, our bodies seem to be handling the daily exercise well and have already gotten stronger. Instead, it is the mental hoops the trail is making us jump through that have been the bigger challenge so far. Constantly being on the move felt draining at first and by trying to keep up with other hikers, we became very focused on our pace. We pushed harder than we should have until we felt burnt out and were questioning why we were even out here. For the first two weeks, we were just going through the motions of thru-hiking: packing up, making miles, completing camp chores and sleeping. We were checking the same boxes over and over again without having the energy to enjoy the beauty that surrounded us. Eventually, we realised we were carrying a lot of social pressure with us on trail, while one of the main reasons for us to be here was to get away from exactly that. So one morning, when everyone had already left by to sprint up the mountain, we decided to slow down instead. We watched the hummingbirds drink, the gopher dig and the rattle snakes sunbathe. And it was glorious. So from now on, this hike is about me. As much as I would love to reach Canada at the end of all of this, arriving anywhere is no longer the main goal. Take Michael, who passionately told us all about the moose he photographs back in Colorado, or Jonah, Kate and Xander, who taught us the important skill of eating Oreos handsfree. What also helps us keep going, are the many encouragements and acts of kindness from strangers. It is all the passersby that strike up a conversation and encourage us. While Canada is still too far to even think about and thru-hiking will always be a lot of hot and cold, we are finding more and more joy in this strange hikertrash lifestyle every day. In three sunny days and two freezing nights, Katrien, Stefaan and I hiked the trail's 52 kilometres from Kautenbach to Ettelbruck. After setting off from Kautenbach, we immediately got served the first of many steep climbs. With 2, metres of elevation gain, the trail is nothing if not demanding, but the scenery is worth the exertion. In , the route was awarded the European label 'Leading Quality Trail' for good reason: largely unpaved, great viewpoints, clear waymarks and easy access to public transportation along the trail! Initial enthusiasm quickly fades into concern, until people learn that I am starting off with my boyfriend. What they are really saying — perhaps even subconsciously — is that it is good that I am going with a guy. When I set off on hiking trips with female friends in the past, not all sceptics were reassured. Conclusion: while going with another woman is good, being accompanied by a man is still considered safer. The disapproval of me adventuring solo is often phrased very subtly. Sometimes as direct criticism, but usually it takes the form of well-intentioned concern. And c oncern is not a bad thing. It is a sign of love and care that should be taken into consideration. But it becomes problematic when it is tied solely to my gender instead of to my skills and experience level. While there are still very real risks involved with being a woman in most places in the world, the dangers I am most likely to face in the wilderness will not discriminate. A bear does not care about my gender. A river will not pull me under more. A tree is not more likely to fall on me. And I am not more prone to slipping and falling, getting lost and dehydrated, or being struck by lightning than any man on trail. And yet, the narrative I hear time and time again implies that I am somehow more fragile and less capable of making it on my own in the backcountry. The human brain is wired to believe the information it is fed systematically. Narratives like these leave women — like myself — feeling insecure and hesitant to take on challenges. They place mental barriers in the way of women wanting to explore the outdoors and instill misplaced fears they will actively need to overcome to pursue their goals. It is ironic that we still teach women to ignore and downplay inappropriate male behaviours that could actually harm them, yet discourage them from going after empowering experiences that will better equip them to stand up for themselves in the face of real threats. Because quite frankly, I am tired. Tired of being deemed lucky instead of capable. Tired of hearing the world is too dangerous for me and that it would be foolish to think otherwise. Tired of having to prove my worth, while I know the strength that resides within. Develop mild hypothermia or suffer from heat stroke? After four days of lectures, drills and simulations, I am officially Wilderness Advanced First Aid certified! Disclaimer: I will most likely still faint, so please do try to refrain from breaking any bones. From am until 6pm, we broke limbs, burnt ourselves, fell out of trees, got hit by lightning, cut our arms, went unresponsive, developed severe hypothermia, had allergic reactions, experienced volume shock, hit our heads, choked, suffered from urinary tract infections, had strokes and heart attacks, … You name it, we had it! Four intensive days of lectures and drills taught us how to assess emergency situations and provide medical assistance in the field. Medical conditions have made me squeamish for as long as I can remember, sometimes even making me faint. But with huge hiking plans on the horizon, it only felt right to do the responsible thing and finally take the course …. Two years after the pandemic cancelled my plans to thru-hike the Pacific Crest Trail, Stefaan and I will finally be setting off from Campo this April! If all goes well, we should arrive at the Canadian border sometime in September. But if disaster does strike, I now feel confident that I will handle the situation in the best way possible. Photos by Diederd Esseldeurs, Stefaan Van wal and myself. The sensation of dry feet feels like a distant memory after four rainy days on the GR But on day five, I can pat myself on the back for making it through the solo part of my adventure. In addition to good morale, Stefaan is bringing four days worth of food — a welcome resupply on a trail that does not pass through many towns. Sleepover parties with Pierre, Pierre and the s Larousse After a warm night at La Martinette, we put on our rain gear to defy the showers coming at us from all sides on our 1. Above the treeline, the trail has transformed into an icy stream reaching up to our ankles. Soaked to the bone and shivering, we knock on the door of the fully booked refuge three hours later, but the grumpy staff show no remorse. Commanding us to wait outside, they collect our money and hand over the key to a dilapidated shed ten minutes away. With red, swollen hands, I frantically peel off my wet clothes when we stumble inside. Stefaan picks a battle with the fire stove, while I crawl into my sleeping bag and wait for my extremities to regain some sensation. My feet finally start to tingle when we are joined by butcher Pierre and teacher Pierre, our new housemates. Pages ripped from a s Larousse help keep the fire alive all evening. With the remainder of the encyclopedia, Pierre and Pierre subject us to a challenging game of guessing which word they read the description aloud to. Malheureusement, our grasp of the French language is not quite up to par. What could have been a miserable night in our tents, turns into a candle-lit sleepover party instead, with a three-course meal followed by a couple of beers — I did learn how to hike like the French just two days ago. The cherry on top of the cake is the starry 4 AM sky that heralds a better weather window for the coming days. Un pierrier de merde A humble rainbow brightens up the chilly morning, as we hike past several lakes. Though we only have one outfit on us, we manage to change multiple times an hour by putting on and taking off layers. I wonder what the birds must think of our constant metamorphosis, knowing all too well the answer is probably nothing at all. To avoid the remaining snow patches, we take a little detour and hop from one rock to the next all the way up to the Col de la Vache, where a griffon vulture circles overhead in search of carrion. For the love of crackers We take our time getting ready in the morning, while the sun dries our tents. Descending past the Refuge Jean-Collet, we admire the extensive views over the Chartreuse before toiling up a steep hill to the Col de la Sitre. With two gorgeous valleys stretching out on either side of the rim, I feel on top of the world both physically and mentally. By the Lac du Crozet , we run into our new pal Robert and his friends once again. Unaware that blueberry pie was even an option, we are indeed thrilled by the prospect. Eventually, it is the fresh crepes on the sugar-ridden menu that manage to seduce us. We team up for a group bivouac by the Lacs Robert, trading our parmesan and olive oil for sips of beer. As the crackers and Nutella jar make their way around the circle, eyes close in pure delight at so much goodness. All that separates us from society is a short descent to ski resort Chamrousse, where pop music blasts through giant speakers. Tourists stroll past market stalls selling regional produce, while their shrieking offspring go nuts on a Spongebob-shaped bouncy castle. A minute ago, we were tracing our way through a herd of goats. But my melancholy is short-lived, evaporating the minute our crepes and cappuccinos are served. Practical info Distance: kilometres How to get there: start and end point Aiguebelle and Vizille can be reached by train there are also frequent buses between Chamrousse and Grenoble. More info: Mon GR. I mumble something about the need to leave my comfort zone after cocooning during the pandemic, but I suspect it is my fear of hiking and camping alone I really want to confront. As I swing my pack over my shoulder and say my goodbyes, I attempt to look confident, though in reality, I am terrified. What if certain stretches of the trail are too technical? What if there is still too much snow? What if a storm erupts when I am on a ridge? Secretly, I pray for an excuse to pop up, anything that will allow me to bail. But no such excuse presents itself, so off to the French Alps I go. Un orage exceptionnel The thunder makes my AirBnB in Aiguebelle shake at night, which does not ease my anxiety. We are sure everything will be just fine. The abandoned Fort de Montgilbert — built around to keep an eye on the valley — looks eerie in the mist, encouraging me not to linger. Forest trails take me up and down hills all day until I reach the Baraque a Michel, an unguarded shelter in the woods, featuring nothing more than a wooden table and a tiny window that barely lets in any light. The predicted storm could hit soon. As I weigh my options, the sound of someone slamming on the brakes makes me look up. I will decide later. Just as I have rolled out my sleeping pad and gotten acquainted with the resident mice, the thunderstorm erupts. Hail the size of marbles and violent gusts of wind batter against the thin walls all night. Rhododendron-lined trails lead me to the next shelter, where I kick off my shoes and wait for my body to stop shivering. Setting off alone, one of my biggest doubts was how I would handle challenging circumstances. When hiking with a partner, you do not have the luxury to throw off your pack and wallow in self-pity for hours. You keep it together. When hiking solo, well, you could. I am proud to notice that quitting does not feel like an option, however, even as I wiggle my soggy feet back into wet socks. The trail is narrow and rocky. The rugged contours in the fog and the sound of the river gushing in the valley make me suspect that the landscape must be stunning on a clear day. When the Refuge des Ferices finally appears around the bend, smoke is already blowing from the chimney. With another storm lingering, I call it home for the night and greet my roommates: six middle-aged hikers and one soaking wet husky. Over homemade bread, I listen to their stories about how the French are never quite satisfied, while the fire crackles nicely. Damp clothes hanging from every beam and nail in the room are checked impatiently for the first signs of dryness, but to no avail. One by one, my companions decide to throw in the towel and come back another day when the weather gods have been appeased. Tormented by their animated fantasies about warm showers, soft sofas and comfy sweaters, I retreat to my bunk. The fog feels like an old friend accompanying me on my ascent to the umpteenth col hidden from sight, as I set off solo again. But then my luck drastically changes: the clouds lift and a glorious valley appears at my feet. With a stupid grin on my face, I descend so cheerfully I could skip. Way past hiker midnight, I crawl into my sleeping bag with a full belly and a big smile on my face. The trail may challenge, but it surely also provides. Turns out 65 kilometres is just enough to make my pre-departure fears feel like a million miles away. As Jordanian summers can be deadly hot, canyons with water running through them are often the only option to hike without suffering from heatstroke. I am sure you have one somewhere! No problem. You can drive up to the dam though. But karma sure is known to be unkind: a few hundred metres further the car starts to sputter and breaks down. For lack of phone service, all we can do is sit and wait. Oh wait. A bearded man and his pick-up truck come speeding to our rescue. Instantly, the engine comes back to life. Visibly pleased with his heroic act, the car whisperer invites us over for lunch, an offer we respectfully decline, as we are still hoping to hike today. As we start our hike, a year-old also rides into the slot canyon on his donkey. A few men have driven their cars into the canyon and are unloading their waterpipes and barbecues. Trying to ignore the rubbish by my feet, I look up and let my hand slide over the horizontal lines carved into the rock by the elements over time. The curvy walls look majestic, as the sunrays bring out the entire colour palette: from yellow to orange to deep red. Our youthful guide comes to a halt by a little waterfall and grabs his funnel and bucket, both cut out from plastic bottles. When the job is done, Donkey promptly makes a U-turn and heads home, while Zaid lingers shyly. A big boulder creates a taller waterfall and blocks our passage, but a few metal handles allow us to climb it. Our little gentleman scouts up ahead, effortlessly hopping from one rock to the next. Along the way, his entire life story pours out: what growing up in a tent as the youngest of 12 is like, how he does not have electricity at home and that he aspires to become an Arabic teacher one day. When the canyon leads to a wider valley, we have nowhere left to hide from the blistering sun and decide to turn back. Zaid does not leave our side until we reach the car safely. I hand him a granola bar, which he politely declines before accepting. Instinctively, he then breaks it in two and offers me the other half. I will be waiting. Powered by Create your own unique website with customizable templates. Get Started. Emotional baggage We hikers love to put our gear on the kitchen scale and contemplate every gram.
Hotel and flight for <£400. Is this possible?
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Registration's totally free, of course, and makes snowHeads easier to use and to understand, gives better searching, filtering etc. When you register, you get our free weekly -ish snow report by email. It's rather good and not made up by tourist offices or people that love the tourist office and want to marry it either We don't share your email address with anyone and we never send out any of those cheesy 'message from our partners' emails either. Anyway, snowHeads really is MUCH better when you're logged in - not least because you get to post your own messages complaining about things that annoy you like perhaps this banner which, incidentally, disappears when you log in Username:- Password:. Or: Register to be a proper snow-head, all official-like! Prev topic :: Next topic. Poster: A snowHead. So it's a challenge! Quite happy to take a package but have done the independant thing before so that would be OK. Would prefer to be close to the lifts, and if we can get HB for the price even better. Skiers in the group are me rubbish a couple of intermediate's and an advanced. Daughter skies and boards. Interested in all suggestions please! Obviously A snowHead isn't a real person. Well, the person's real but it's just a made up name, see? They advertise all-in packages i. You need to Login to know who's really who. Anyway, snowHeads is much more fun if you do. An apartment would still allow you to eat out whenever you wanted, but being able to sort out your own breakfasts, snacks and if you're close to the piste lunch will save you a fortune. Looks like you've got yourself a free holiday! You'll need to Register first of course. Way inside the budget, just get some more friends to come along - everyone cooks one evening meal. Then you can post your own questions or snow reports But week beginning 19 March you could certainly get a good, piste-side, 2 bed apartment for euros if you were prepared to extend the transfer time a bit. Or maybe Flaine. After all it is free. I know Chamrousse is not the biggest ski area, or, probably, even among the best, but it is adequate for a week, and the proximity of Grenoble might be an asset. You'll get to see more forums and be part of the best ski club on the net. Yellow Pyranha , there are quite a few reports about Chamrousse here - I should think you'll have a great time, and that's an excellent price. And because it's not 'the best' ski area you won't be robbed blind every time you want a cup of coffee or a pee. Ski the Net with snowHeads. Or Easy jet from Liverpool if flights and prices suit more. Peak retreats have some cheap deals that have been cheaper than booking direct with the Hotel, - all areas in Grand massif. And love to help out and answer questions and of course, read each other's snow reports. Part of my reason for going there and having been there in the past is that my brother lives in central Grenoble - I was trying to justify why someone without my personal interests might consider it apart from price! So if you're just off somewhere snowy come back and post a snow report of your own and we'll all love you very much. You know it makes sense. I'll PM you with the details! Otherwise you'll just go on seeing the one name:. I could have done this cheaper though. Of course, it's the other bits - passes, equipment hire, lessons, lunches, beers etc which cost the money. Accommodation is the least expense of many ski holidays. Thanks to everyone, I've got some research to do now. Still open to suggestions. If you need ski school it is village centre so a bit of a walk in the morning, as the free monibus gets full, but its ok to get back in afternoon. You've added the ' metres' criterion - what else? Snowlamb reported buying that holiday today, on another thread. Offer won't be available much longer. Thanks for all the help. Just need to sort the hire car, ski hire, lift pass snowboard lessons! Great help guys, Thanks. New Topic Post Reply. Snow Snow Snow! Solo Skiers v Groups - Orga Archives Lost and Found Ski Club of Great Britain To one side secret Mountain Hideout snowShops You cannot post to forums until you login You cannot read some forums until you login Read about snow conditions : snow conditions And leave your own snow report : snow report Find advice to help plan your ski holidays : ski holidays The snowHeads Ski Club : Ski Club 2. Terms and conditions Privacy Policy. Snow Reports. Is this possible? After all it is free After all it is free. So if you're just off somewhere snowy come back and post a snow report of your own and we'll all love you very much So if you're just off somewhere snowy come back and post a snow report of your own and we'll all love you very much. Otherwise you'll just go on seeing the one name: Otherwise you'll just go on seeing the one name:.
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