Finding Strength in Strangers

Taking on her first long-distance hike, Taneika discovered that the trail’s greatest gift wasn’t the miles but the people who helped her feel seen.

Taneika never set out to be a long-distance hiker. In fact, it was her first time taking on a multi-day hike and her first time shouldering a heavy load as a backpacker. These facts alone tested her limits before even stepping foot on the trail.

Yet what might seem like a story of exhaustion and doubt came to be one of discovery. Through moments of struggle, she found joy – not in the miles or the summits, but in the people she met along the way.

In hikers whose identities stood apart from the “typical” trail crowd she met along the way, Taneika caught glimpses of herself and found in those connections the grit and motivation to keep going.

Here’s her story of finding strength in others on her section hike on the John Muir Trail (JMT).

Embracing the Struggle

When Taneika stepped onto the JMT in July 2025, she faced a challenge unlike anything she’d taken on before. An accomplished cyclist with years of experience pushing her limits on two wheels, she had never attempted a long-distance hike.

Her very first surprise wasn’t the steep climbs or rocky paths – it was the weight strapped to her back. At 45 pounds, her pack was far heavier than most of the others (who were all strangers to her) on her guided hike. She combed through her gear, convinced she must have overpacked, but there was no luxury item hiding in the pile. While she deemed them essentials, they were still heavier than expected.

“Itoldmyself,thisisaliteralweight,butIthinkinthegranderschemeoflife,thismightbeametaphoricalweightthatIneedtocarry.”

Despite the weight, she made a choice to carry it. Not just as a pack, but as a symbol of the new challenge she had willingly embraced. The load wouldn’t break her; it would be the weight that shaped her journey.

Searching for Belonging

Taneika quickly realized the journey would be far from easy in the first dozen miles. The pace of the group was faster than she liked, and at times, she felt as though she was missing the very landscapes she had come to experience as she continually fought the uphill battle.

On top of that feeling of being alone came homesickness and missing her kids. She reminded herself that through the struggle, she aimed to discover a new part of herself. She hadn’t joined this trek in search of simple happiness. She had come to challenge herself. To take on something entirely new. To be a rookie again.

Still, a deeper loneliness lingered. She scanned the trail and the campsites, looking for someone who looked like her – or at least carried a presence that felt familiar. It wasn’t about gender alone, or even age. It was about identity, perspective, and shared experiences.

“Bydaythree,Isaid,‘OhmyGod.Idon'tthinkI'veeverfeltlonelier,’notseeinganybodywholookslikeme.”

On trail, she longed for even the smallest gesture of connection: a head nod, a glance of recognition, a sign that she was “not the only one.”

Finding Connection in Unexpected Places

Eventually, she found it.

Her first moment came in the form of an elderly hiker, moving slowly and steadily up the path, whom she endearingly nicknamed “Gandalf.” He seemed out of place at first, yet he was proof that perseverance comes in many forms.

When she stopped to talk to him, she discovered a surprising common ground: he had once been a cyclist, just like her. They swapped stories, and for a moment, she felt seen. That connection, though brief, lifted her spirits in a way she hadn’t expected.

Later, she met two brown-skinned men – the first she’d seen on trail – who shared that they had carved out three weeks from their lives to hike a portion of the JMT. Their commitment to creating time for adventure, despite demanding lives, left her inspired.

And near her last days on the trail, she met a trans person who spoke about the acceptance they had found within the trail community. That conversation struck her deeply, reminding her that the outdoors can be a beautiful and accepting space where people connect as fellow hikers, not as hateful labels or judgements the outside world might cast.

Each of these encounters was small in the grand scope of her hike. But to Taneika, they were monumental. They were reminders that identity, in all its forms, exists on the trail.

"Ionlyhadthreeofthoseinnerencounters.Butthoseencounterswerenothingshortofmagnificent."

Beyond the Destination

Taneika’s hike was not defined by an endpoint. It wasn’t about how many miles she completed or whether she reached a particular summit.

It was about the breakdowns and breakthroughs along the way. Like the day when she nearly crumbled on a climb because her watch stopped giving her the metrics she was relying on for motivation. She cried at the top, worn down and frustrated. Or when she opted to ride horseback for several days due to an injury rather than continuing her hike on foot. She felt defeated to accept support she didn’t think she’d need so soon.

Nonetheless, she persisted.

The true success of the trip wasn’t measured by distance. It was measured by the strength she uncovered in herself – and the faces she met that reminded her she wasn’t alone.

The trail showed her that it’s never just about the destination. It’s about the community you find along the way, sometimes in fleeting but powerful moments of connection.

Taneika’s Takeaways for Life On and Off Trail

• Lean into discomfort. The weight you carry, whether in your pack or in life, may feel overwhelming. Fighting it only makes it heavier. Accept it, and you’ll discover the strength you didn’t know you had.
• Look for connection. Even when you feel out of place, some people will surprise you with their kindness, their stories, and the ways they mirror your own values.
• Redefine success. Often, the real reward lies in the people you meet and the lessons you learn on the journey – not what you set out to conquer.