Overcoming adversity is a huge part of thru-hiking, or really any type of backpacking and wilderness travel. It’s one of the most valuable lessons the sport teaches us.
In 2023, I attempted a thru-hike of the 500-mile GR11 trail in the Spanish Pyrenees. This was to be my fourth thru-hike, and it presented more challenges than I’ve ever experienced on a single trail including physical difficulty, logistics, and just plain bad luck.
My hope is that this doesn’t come off as a whine fest, but instead serves as a cautionary tale while providing some insight on the raw, unglamorous moments of thru-hiking and how to deal with them.
Sheer Difficulty
To give some perspective, the Appalachian Trail climbs over about 464,500 feet of elevation gain over about 2,197 miles, giving it an overall steepness of about 211 feet per mile. The PCT has an estimated steepness of about 185 feet per mile, and the Vermont Long Trail (considered one of the most rugged trails in the U.S.) is about 242 feet per mile. Now with that perspective in consideration, let’s check out the GR11. With roughly 151,800 feet of elevation gain over 520 miles, the GR11 weighs in at a whopping 292 feet per mile. That is some quad burning, knee pounding, mentally battering steepness. On top of that, much of the trail is poorly marked.
I tackled this particular difficulty with the brute force of an experienced (and cocky) backpacker. I trained for it and figured it would give me no problem at all. My mindset was that of conquering the trail instead of savoring it. This ultimately curbed my enjoyment of what I love to do the most, but I came out the other side humbled.
Sometimes the trail was so steep, we had to pull ourselves up on chains!
Overuse Injuries
Due to the punishing nature of the trail, my partner suffered some overuse injuries in her knee pretty early on. It wasn’t the end of the world, as we figured it would be par for the course and knew to expect such possibilities. Our mistake was simply putting too short of a timeline on our thru-hike and trying to tackle too much too fast. We simply had to take a couple zero days in a small mountain town in the Basque region of Spain and accept that we may have to swallow our pride and skip some miles in order to reach the eastern terminus.
If you are setting out on your first thru-hike, I highly recommend making your plans open-ended. Don’t put a strict time limit on completing the trail and don’t shoot yourself out of a cannon at the start.
Language and Cultural Barriers
Of course when traveling internationally, we knew there would be some cultural and language barriers, but we weren’t prepared for how deeply they would affect us.
In the United States we truly take for granted the amazing community that surrounds thru-hiking, including the beautiful souls that are trail angels. AT shelters are packed with like minded individuals sharing the same suffering day-to-day. Sharing stories and struggles with fellow hikers each evening helps to salve the wounds of the day. When we go into town, there are often hiker hostels that are waiting with open arms to make sure you are washed, nourished, and well rested. Once your needs are met, they send you back on the trail with a slap on the back and a “go get ‘em, Tiger.” It honestly makes me tear up just reminiscing on the kindness I’ve experienced on my US thru-hikes.
An amazing day of trail magic and tramily time on the Colorado Trail
Spain is a beautiful country with a rich and inviting culture, but the culture I experienced around thru-hiking didn’t exactly mirror that of hiking in the states. Although we brushed up on our Spanish, most of the thru-hikers we encountered were from different parts of Europe with first languages ranging from Dutch to German to Slovakian. English was present, but often limited. That’s not to say we couldn’t converse at all with other hikers, but it paled in comparison to the camaraderie on U.S. trails.
Spain does have mountain hostels, or “refugios,” but they were clearly there to profit from tourism and not to live vicariously through your adventure. I don’t blame the Spanish culture for these challenges; I blame my expectations.
Gear explosion in one of the refugios
Food Poisoning
The final challenge that I never really recovered from until after I got off of the GR11 was two debilitating bouts of food poisoning. The cause of the first is unknown, but I’m almost certain that the second was due to unpasteurized cheese.
It is not a requirement in Spain for farmers to pasteurize their dairy products like it is in the United States. Although they are supposed to mark unpasteurized dairy, there are many small, independent farm stands peppered throughout the Pyrenees that seem to go unregulated. The other farming practice to note is the free-grazing cattle over probably about 75 percent of the trail. That means that water sources are very often surrounded by cow pies.
There were horses and cows everywhere!
Although the bouts of food poisoning only lasted for about 24 hours, the typical Spanish cuisine (lots of bread and pork) wasn’t enough nutrition for me to ever feel fully energized again. Although I hiked the rest of the trail in a state of queasy fatigue, I stubbornly pressed on. I had a trail to finish.
Lessons Learned
Now, like I said, I’m not telling you all of this in search of pity or to scare you away from a good old sufferfest. I certainly learned a lot from my mistakes and challenges, and hopefully you will too. Here are the key takeaways:- Be realistic and reasonable with your physical abilities
- Give yourself a large time cushion and budget for plenty of rest days
- When entering a foreign environment, be prepared, but don’t have expectations
- Maintain a positive mindset and live in the moment
- Don’t become overly attached to your goals
None of the challenges I experienced on the GR11 were enough to end my journey as long as I had the means to deal with them. In many of these cases, time was the resource that I lacked. However, it also has a lot to do with your perspective around the challenges. Any challenge is surmountable with a positive mindset and the ability to live in the moment and soak up the sunshine. I know that sounds cheesy, but hopefully it’s the pasteurized kind.
In the end, it’s all worth it to spend time in beautiful places like this.
Brett is a bluegrass musician, outdoorsman, and writer currently based in Golden, CO. He's backpacked thousands of miles in the U.S. and Europe and is always on the lookout for the next adventure. When not behind the writing desk, you can find him bagging peaks, climbing rocks, shredding powder, or jamming at a bluegrass festival.
1 comment
Ray J
I can relate. We’ve done many thru hikes, including Santiago de Compostelo, end-to-end Scotland, Portugal from the southern tip to Santiago, among others. We started the Via Francigena last year and made it to Vitry-le-Francois. We started there this year and made it to Aosta.
The Via was challenging. There were days where three, four, and five (butt) points of contact on the trail were required. I’m writing all of this not to brag, but to second your advice on keeping a positive attitude. I lacked that on the Compostela which made it tougher at times than it needed to be. By this year on the Via Francigena (our ninth thru hike), I had finally learned to accept that things would go wrong, there would be mistakes, there might actuall be some danger involved, etc. My Compostela self couldn’t have completed it.
I still get too wrapped up in things, but I’m getting better. I hope anyone thinking of doing a thru hike takes your advice to keep a positive mindset – it helps. (Also, keep away from foods you’re unsure of :-))