How To Get Started Adventuring – Even Later In Life
You’re invited to WANDER WITH us. Over the coming months you’ll meet several adventurers who will share their knowledge and lived outdoor experiences. We’ve lined up a wonderfully eclectic crew of folks – everyone from an outdoor adventure seeking mama to a solo survivalist. We all experience the outdoors through a unique lens, let’s celebrate that and learn from each other.
How To Get Started Adventuring – Even Later In Life by 40-something hiker, camping enthusiast, & fledgling backpacker Meagan Francis
Growing up in the Upper Peninsula, regular outdoors time – whether plunging into the frigid St. Mary’s River or just wandering around in the woods – was a regular part of my life. In my teens, I maintained a connection to the woods, venturing out whenever I got a chance. But as an adult, I started to find myself losing touch with that side of myself.
Sure, I’d still take my passel of small kids on short hikes or overnight car camping trips, but adventuring with kids can be a lot of work – and I have a lot of kids (five, to be exact.) Between keeping the entire family in gear and not losing any of my offspring on the trail, the whole thing started to feel overwhelming, and I never seemed to have enough time to myself to venture out alone.
In my early 40s, with my kids older and a divorce behind me, I decided it was time to get back to my roots as an outdoorsy gal – and guess what I learned? It’s really never too late. Over the past few years I’ve put hundreds of miles hiking under my belt, camped more than ever, learned a ton about gear, and even went on a solo 6-day camping and hiking trip in the UP the summer I turned 42. I’ve got plenty more adventures planned: the way I see it, I’m just getting started!
If, like me, you took a hiatus from outdoors adventure because you got busy with your career, raising small kids, or binge-watching endless TV series – or, if you were just never outdoorsy in your younger life, but have been feeling the pull to step away from flickering screens and go get lost in the woods – I’m here to tell you that now is your time. Here are my tips to claiming your status as an outdoor adventurer – while staying safe and sane, and without going broke.
Take Baby Steps.
A few years ago I signed up for a beginner’s backpacking trip with Wanderlust to the North Country Trail in the Manistee National Forest. The trip included food, loaner gear including an Osprey backpack, group transportation to the trailhead, a guided 6-mile hike, an overnight stay in a rustic campsite, and a 2+ hour paddle down the Pere Marquette River.
The Wanderlust crew transported tents and food to the campsite, so all we had to pack in were our own clothes, sleeping bags, and whatever other items we deemed necessary for a 24-hour excursion. (I learned a lot about what is truly “necessary” on a short trip by carrying it on my back!)
The trip was a perfect baby-steps experience that allowed me to dip a toe into backpacking and learn some things without the pressure or fear of going it completely alone.
After that trip, my sister-in-law Jenna and I took our three young sons on to hike-in backwoods camping area along Lake Michigan for a two-night backpacking adventure. Since we were “only” a couple of miles from the car and could hike back for extra water or food – or bail entirely if the weather got too bad – it felt manageable.
After that, I started venturing out alone – longer and longer hikes, leading to a weekend hiking trip with my dog in a cabin in the woods a few hours north to see how I’d handle being in a remote area alone at night. And later that summer, I decided I wanted to return and hike the Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore alone. I wouldn’t have felt ready to make that trip a year earlier, but each mini-excursion taught me new things and made it feel really doable. Now, I’m planning more ambitious adventures.
Get (The Right) Gear.
Upon returning home from North Country Trail trip, I immediately (like, before I even got in my car to head home) purchased my own backpack. The Wanderlust team helped me narrow down my choices to the Osprey Kyte 36 Liter.
Sure, I could have gone with a bigger, beefier pack, but realistically, I knew that multi-day solo backpacking trips were not in my immediate future and that I’d get more use out of, and feel less intimidated by, a more moderate pack. Plus, as a chronic over-packer, I knew that less space would force me to be more judicious about what I brought along on the trail.
My Kyte 36 and I have been on many adventures together, including dozens of day-long hikes, a couple two-night backpacking adventures where a partner and I split up the weight and bulk of our food, tent, camp stove and other “shareables”, and a solo backpacking trip to Grand Island where I opted to sleep in a rustic cabin (so I wouldn’t have to lug a tent, and also -since it was my first solo excursion – so I wouldn’t worry about being eaten by bears in the night.)
Three years after purchasing my Kyte 36, I’m ready for a bigger pack and am eyeballing the Osprey Renn 50 Liter. But I really appreciated that the team at Wanderlust listened to my needs when I was just getting started, and didn’t recommend something bigger or more advanced than what I was ready for. The way I look at it, I’ll still get plenty of use out of my Kyte 36 on shorter trips, and adding to my gear stash slowly and strategically has felt manageable and wise.
And that approach applies to any kind of gear, not just backpacks! While I invested in good hiking footwear right from the start (first, the excellent Salewa Wildfire hiking shoe and later, my beloved Salewa Alp boot), I put off a LOT of other purchases because I wasn’t sure what I wanted, or didn’t feel like I needed to take the plunge just yet.
Nearly three years after I first carted a tent on my back for a long hike, I’m just now starting to think seriously about upgrading to a lighter model. I’ve been on dozens and dozens of hikes in shorts or workout leggings and just bought my first pair of real hiking pants last week. I mostly eat PBJ sandwiches and the like on the trail (works for me!) and haven’t really invested much in my camp kitchen.
My point is that you can take your time on a lot of this stuff. Shop slowly and wisely and if you’re on a budget, look for last-season gear and sales opportunities. The Vault is a great place to start.
Take (Smart) Risks.
On my solo trips in particular, I often find myself striking a delicate balance between adventure and safety. I love pushing myself, but particularly when I’m in the middle of a remote forested area with sketchy cell service, I often find that the additional risk isn’t worth the huge potential bummer of getting lost and spending a scary night alone in the woods, or possibly getting injured and missing out on future adventures.
I find I enjoy the slight edge of alertness I get when I am in an unfamiliar situation and need to lean on my wits to help me navigate. As soon as that edge crosses over into something more like fear, I back off.
Maybe when I was very young and didn’t have a big family to care for and 40-something muscles and joints, I’d have felt differently, but these days, “enough adventure” is truly enough.
I also make sure to be traceable and to let multiple people (including, when possible, people in the area where I’m adventuring) know where I’ll be and when I expect to return.
And I’m not afraid to change plans if I get to the trail and my plan suddenly seems too risky or rigorous. Often while out on adventure, I have to make a snap choice between adventure and comfort, or risk and reward.
The handful of times I’ve chosen comfort over adventure, or have tamped down the risk level because it didn’t seem worth the reward, I have later felt it was the right choice.
The way I see it, if I protect myself and make adventure fun and sustainable, I can always go back and try again with new knowledge, skills, gear, or a partner to help.
The Rewards
Over the last few years, I’m amazed at some of the adventures I’ve taken all by myself, with a lot less fear than I anticipated. I proved to myself that I can learn new things and try new experiences, in my 40s and beyond.
I’ve also learned that I don’t have to rush it and do everything at once. I waited more than two decades to really embrace the outdoors lifestyle I know I was made for; I can definitely take my time adding new skills and experiences to my repertoire.
Right now, I can’t wait to give myself a few gear upgrades this season and then head out on some new adventures – pushing myself just a little more each time. I’ve learned that I’m capable of so much more than I ever thought – and also, that I’ve got plenty of time. So do you!
