It is 4.30 in the morning as I write this. And this hasn’t been my only sleepless night the past few weeks. There is something on the horizon for me. The dawn of a great adventure is slowly creeping up over the horizon, and the mere thought of it is keeping me awake out of a mixture of sheer anticipation, enjoyment and a sense of anxiety I cannot seem to shake.
In two weeks’ time, I will fly over to the United States. It has been almost three years since I last visited, on another adventure of a lifetime. In 2022, it was the PCT that was beckoning. This time, it is something larger.
Larger than 2650 miles, you might ask? What could that be?
The adventure ahead
Let me introduce you to the Hayduke Trail. 800 miles through Utah and the Grand Canyon. A ‘create-your-own-adventure’ kind of hike if ever there was one. There is no path. There is no route. Merely a suggestion of which way you could be taking, should you feel so inclined. The hardest, most arduous and roundabout way of getting from Arches to Zion National Park.
True, in terms of mileage, it is not larger. But in almost every other aspect, the HDT will be more than the PCT.
More solitude, more challenges, more prep work, more worries, more adventure. Just…more. The only things that are less on the HDT are the available water sources, the amount of people I will encounter, the available information and the expected daily mileage.
And so, I am trying to assuage my worries by preparing myself as well as I can. Digging through resources and compiling data sheets. Printing maps and brushing up on my route-finding skills. And all too often, my brain whispers to me in the dead of night: ‘You must be forgetting something crucial’ or: ‘Where the hell did you get the silly idea that you can do this?’
I try to ignore the voice and assure myself that I am doing all I can. That it will be alright. That I am capable. And while I manage to convince my mind of this in the daytime, the night affords me no such luxury.
All that is left for me to do, is to review the steps I’ve taken, and go over them time and time again: the maps, the GPS tracks, the cache locations, my gear list. The repetitiveness of the task reassures me.
All that is left for me to do is to trust I will have the strength and willpower to carry me through this.
And lastly, when all is said and done, all that is left for me to do is to write an article in which I unburden my fears upon you.
But…why??
So why exactly am I going to attempt the Duke?
Glad you asked…
I’ve been thinking about this a lot. It all started out with a great desire to test myself. My longest hike to date has been the PCT, and while that was certainly no walk in the park, I also did not feel it pushed me to my absolute limits.
There were incredibly hard days on that trail. I have been cold, hot, hungry, dirty, in pain, in tears, in hospital, in doubt and in absolute terror. And with every passing day, all these memories seem to become softer. The sharp edges have long since been polished off, and all that remains are the glorious memories of some of the best times of my life. All pain has been forgotten. All hardships brushed over. But even as I was living it, I was acutely aware that there was more inside. I never reached rock bottom. The hardest days made me feel most alive.
Can I bear more? Can I make things even harder on myself without quitting? Do I have what it takes? And, of course, the most crucial question: how do I find out? Where can I go to test myself to that extent?
Before I start my hike on the HDT, I will spend a month rafting down the Grand Canyon, so the choice to look for a challenge in the USA was easy. And pretty soon after I started digging, I found the Hayduke. Close to the Grand Canyon, and even passing through it near the end. Billed as America’s most rugged thru-hike. No set route, but more of a route suggestion. Only for those who can truly take care of themselves out there. And to top it all off, the perfect time window to hike it started just after I was scheduled to end the rafting trip. It seemed the universe was gently shoving me towards Utah, all the stars aligned at just the right time.
And the decision was made, rashly and unequivocally: I would try to hike the Hayduke. Once I make a decision, I stick to it, so now there is no turning back for me.
What I hope to find
I dream of the solitude, the nights I will spend cowboy camping, contented to just stare at the night sky, mesmerized, and muse upon the vast expanse up there. Of the beauty of unspoilt nature around me, not a single other human in sight. Of the excitement of discovering a new world.
It is for these reasons the Hayduke was created, after all. To give us a chance to connect to nature again. To go and get yourself lost among these crevasses and canyons. Experience nature as it was meant to be experienced. Without a calendar, a beeping phone, the rush of civilization. To connect to the earth, to myself.
And like I mentioned, I want to know what I am made of. Where my breaking point lies. If I can handle this both physically and mentally. Because I know, this won’t be all fun and games. There will be hardships and cursing. Pain and frustration. Fear, confusion and doubts.
So after all the planning is done, all the worrying behind me, there remains only one question: what if I still won’t find my limits out there? I will have to start looking for an even bigger challenge. (Any suggestions??)
This article was originally posted on The Trek on Feb 7, 2025.
