Why Many Women Fear Hiking Alone — And How We Can Change That

The forest wraps around you, dense and quiet, the air thick with the earthy scent of damp leaves. Towering gums reach toward the sky, their bark weathered by time, while the distinctive call of a lyrebird echoes through the stillness. It should be serene, a peaceful escape from the world. But your heart races, fingers tightening around the strap of your backpack. Every crack of a branch beneath unseen feet sends a jolt through you. Your mind keeps returning to the same thought: What if someone’s out there? What if someone’s watching, waiting, stepping from the shadows?

It should be serene… But for many women, it isn’t.

Taking Up Space in the Wild

As I’ve prepared for my own hikes, I’ve been reflecting more on the unique barriers many people face in the outdoors, barriers that go beyond the usual challenges of skills, fitness, and logistics, and are influenced by factors like gender, identity, or experience. Recently, I received a message from fellow hiker Vicky Explores that captured something I’ve felt many times but never quite put into words:

“My first solo camp was an act of defiance. They told me not to go, that it was too risky and too dangerous. Funny how different the warnings are when you’re a woman. I wish there was a button I could push to make this world safer for women. But until then, let’s be part of the resistance and keep taking up space in the wild.”

She followed it with a truth many women know all too well:

“I don’t think there is a woman out there who hasn’t been subjected to some kind of harassment or abuse. We feel scared walking to our cars alone at night. I think statistically we’re safer in the bush than anywhere else. But there is still that ‘what if’. Especially in areas without reception.”

Reading Vicky’s words stayed with me. As a guy who grew up with three sisters, I’ve always seen how this fear quietly follows so many women, but I’m still struck by how early and deeply it takes root, and, quite frankly, that it exists at all. I still can’t understand why some men fail to offer the basic decency of courtesy and respect. It’s a terrible tragedy that so many women have to navigate the outdoors, and the world, with that extra layer of vigilance.

Creating a Safer Outdoors Community

The Australian outdoors offers some of the most breathtaking landscapes in the world, yet for many women, the prospect of exploring these spaces alone carries an undercurrent of fear that many men may never experience. It’s not just about being alone in nature. It’s about lived experience, statistics, and a lifetime of being told to be careful. Despite the profound joy and empowerment solo hiking can bring, many women find themselves caught between their desire for wilderness solitude and persistent safety concerns.

Starting with Safety: The Benefits of Hiking in Groups

Before we dive into why women fear hiking alone, it’s important to acknowledge that many outdoor safety experts recommend hiking in groups for the added security it provides. Solo hiking can be empowering and transformative, but there are inherent risks that come with it, especially in remote areas. For those who are hesitant or new to solo hikes, hiking with a group is a great way to build confidence and experience the outdoors in a supportive environment.

But for many, solo hiking also offers its own unique rewards — it’s a deeply empowering act of self-reclamation, and it’s crucial to recognise that everyone’s comfort level is different. As we explore the dynamics behind women’s fears of solo hiking, it’s clear that these concerns are often shaped by personal experiences and societal factors, rather than the activity itself.

And while group hikes are often seen as a safer alternative, they don’t always guarantee a sense of security either. Safety is not just about numbers; it’s about culture. More on that a bit later.

The Reality Behind Women’s Fear of Solo Hiking

Women’s hesitation to hike alone isn’t based on irrational anxiety but rather on documented experiences and statistics. To those who haven’t felt it, the fear may seem exaggerated. But the numbers tell a different story. A 2017 U.S.-based report by Outside Magazine found that 53 percent of women have experienced harassment while engaging in outdoor recreational activities^[1].

Within this alarming statistic, 93 percent were catcalled, 56 percent were followed by someone, 18 percent were flashed, and 4 percent were physically attacked^[1]. These numbers reflect a troubling reality that shapes how women approach outdoor spaces.

In Australia specifically, the concern extends beyond hiking trails. Research shows that 46.6 percent of Australian women aged 15-19 feel “unsafe” or “very unsafe” when walking alone in their communities after dark^[2]. This general sense of vulnerability naturally extends to remote outdoor settings where help might be even less accessible.

The socialisation process begins early. As one outdoor writer notes, “As women, most of us hear these messages of fear from the moment we’re old enough to take them in. The world is dangerous, and it’s not safe for you here as a woman. Someone wants to hurt you. You need protection“^[3]. This conditioning manifests in seemingly well-intentioned but ultimately restrictive advice: “Be home before 11 p.m. Are you sure you want to wear that dress? Why don’t you see if a friend can go with you? Did you remember your pepper spray?“^[3].

For many women, the outdoors paradoxically represents both freedom and potential danger. The mental calculations required, constantly assessing strangers’ intentions, planning escape routes, remaining vigilant, create an exhausting cognitive burden that can significantly diminish the joy of outdoor experiences.

The Universality of This Experience

Women’s reports of uncomfortable trail encounters follow predictable patterns. Many describe experiences of men deliberately slowing down when passing them, asking intrusive questions like “Are you alone?“, or making inappropriate comments^[1].

One hiker recounted a man trailing behind her for an uncomfortable duration, and when asked to pass, he remarked that he had “enjoyed the view from behind“^[1]. Such experiences might seem minor to those who haven’t experienced them, but they contribute to a cumulative sense of vulnerability that shapes women’s relationship with outdoor spaces.

While this piece focuses on solo hiking, it’s important to acknowledge that safety concerns aren’t limited to being alone on the trail. Some of the most uncomfortable or unsettling experiences I’ve encountered as an organiser of the Trail Hiking Australia meetup groups, have occurred on group hikes.

I’ve had women report being followed home after a hike, consistently pressured to catch up socially afterward, or made to feel uncomfortable when someone randomly stripped off for a swim at a rest stop, without any regard for how that might affect others in the group.

These moments leave people feeling uneasy, exposed, or unsure how to respond. In many cases, women have told me they simply stopped coming on hikes altogether.

That, to me, is unacceptable. And when these situations have come to my attention, I’ve dealt with them swiftly.

The Psychological Burden of Constant Vigilance

The psychological burden of constant vigilance goes far beyond the immediate concern of physical safety, it erodes the joy of being in nature, turning every moment into a calculation of risk. For women, solo hiking often involves an internal struggle between the desire for independence and the internalised messages about danger.

The Self-Doubt Factor

Research shows a striking gender gap in confidence that affects women across various domains. A study cited in recent literature found that 75% of female executives admitted experiencing imposter syndrome compared to only 50% of men^[4].

In fact, around 70% of people experience imposter syndrome at some point in their lives. This same self-doubt often shows up on the trail—making us question whether we belong in certain outdoor spaces, whether we’re ‘good enough’ to take on a challenge, or if others will see us as a fraud.

This confidence gap doesn’t stem from innate differences in ability, but from social conditioning that trains women to question their capabilities and judgment.

In outdoor settings, this manifests as women second-guessing their navigation skills, physical abilities, or decision-making, even when they’re highly competent. The internal dialogue might include thoughts like: “Should I really be out here alone? Am I overestimating my abilities? What if something happens and I can’t handle it?”

Joy and Vigilance: The Emotional Trade-off

The constant negotiation between seeking joy and ensuring safety creates an emotional toll. As one writer eloquently puts it, “Walking up a trail in the forest, breathing in the smell of firs and listening to birds calling to each other opens a space for me to breathe deeper and slower, to shed the hustle and stress of work and home life and to focus on the simplicity of getting up the next mountain“^[3].

Yet this profound experience is often interrupted by necessary vigilance, creating a psychological burden that men rarely encounter in the same spaces.

Practical Strategies Women Use to Navigate These Fears

Before diving into these practical strategies, it’s important to recognise that they are, in many ways, a response to a problem that shouldn’t exist in the first place. The burden of safety planning too often falls to women, not because the outdoors is inherently dangerous, but because of how others sometimes behave within those spaces.

These strategies help manage risk, but they don’t address the core issue: the need for a cultural shift in how we respect and engage with each other in outdoor environments.

Despite these challenges, some women have developed effective ways to feel safer while hiking solo. Sadly, many others choose not to hike at all.

Planning and Communication

One of the most common approaches involves thorough planning and communication:

Sharing detailed itineraries with trusted contacts, including start and end times, approximate hike length, and planned camping locations for overnight trips^[5].
Establishing clear check-in protocols and contingency plans if communication deadlines are missed^[5].
Using technology like personal locator beacons (PLBs) or satellite messengers to maintain connection outside cell service areas^[5].

As the Australian Hiker podcast advises: “Tell a family member or close friend where you’re going, your expected start and finish time, and provide them with SMS text updates or GPS notifications at agreed intervals. Have a PLB, know how to use it and be willing to use it if required“^[6].

Equipment and Protection Considerations

Equipment choices often reflect safety considerations:

Carrying multi-purpose items like hiking poles that can serve as defensive tools if needed^[6].
Bringing appropriate protection (though what constitutes “appropriate” varies widely depending on regulations and personal comfort)^[5].
Hiking with your canine buddy, which many women say provides both companionship and a sense of security^[5].

Trail Selection and Timing

Many women adapt their hiking preferences to manage safety concerns:

Choosing more popular trails where other hikers provide a sense of community oversight.
Hiking during daylight hours when visibility is better and more people are likely to be present.
Starting with shorter solo excursions to build confidence before attempting more remote or longer journeys.

Let’s be clear: women shouldn’t have to go to these lengths to feel safe. The real solution lies in reshaping the culture, not just the itinerary.

Reclaiming Confidence: How Women Can Embrace Solo (or Group) Hiking

Despite legitimate concerns, hiking (solo or otherwise) offers profound benefits that many women find worth pursuing. The key lies in building confidence through incremental steps and community support.

The Transformative Power of Solo Experiences

Being alone in nature provides unique opportunities for self-discovery and growth. “Being in the wilderness provides challenges that build my skills, strength and understanding of what I’m capable of,” writes one female hiker. “When I have to figure out how to negotiate a tricky water crossing and take care of my basic food, water and shelter needs, I learn confidence that I can apply to challenges in my daily life“^[3].

This sense of competence and self-reliance can counteract the socially reinforced doubt that many women experience. Successfully navigating challenges in the wilderness translates to greater confidence in everyday situations.

Building Skills and Knowledge

Developing technical skills provides both practical safety benefits and psychological reassurance:

Taking navigation courses to build confidence in route-finding.
Learning wilderness first aid to handle potential emergencies.
Practicing with gear in controlled settings before remote adventures.
Joining skills workshops specifically designed for women, where learning can happen in supportive environments.

Finding Community

These fears expressed don’t always stop women from going, but they do shape how they prepare, how they move, and how they’re perceived. And they’re one reason local initiatives like She Summits Adventures, Adventure Girls Australia, and Wild Women on Top are so powerful. These communities offer skills, support, and solidarity, and remind us that women belong in wild places.

Women-specific outdoor communities have become powerful spaces for connection, support, and skill-building. They offer more than just companionship; they create safety through solidarity.

Women’s hiking groups help build skills and confidence alongside others who understand the unique challenges women may face on the trail.
Online communities provide platforms to share stories, ask questions, and encourage one another, even from across the globe.
Mentorships between experienced hikers and newcomers foster learning, confidence, and a sense of belonging.

If you’re looking for inspiration or practical advice on hiking solo as a woman, these accounts consistently share empowering and insightful content:
👉 @earthtokesh
👉 @hikingbec
👉 @_thehungryhiker

How Men Can Help Create Safer Outdoor Spaces

Men, yes, that’s us, play a key role in shaping a more inclusive and respectful outdoor culture. Most of us do the right thing, but like the saying goes, a few bad apples spoil the bunch. Small, thoughtful actions can make a big difference. Basically, don’t be a dick!

Be Aware of Your Impact

What feels like a harmless interaction to you might feel threatening or intrusive to someone hiking alone. Context matters and so does how your presence is perceived.

Respect space: Give people room on trails and around campsites. Close proximity, especially in remote areas, can feel intimidating.
Don’t make assumptions: Just because you’re up for a chat doesn’t mean someone else is. A friendly comment might feel intrusive, especially if someone’s already feeling uneasy or just wants solitude.
Read the cues: If someone seems uncomfortable, avoids eye contact, gives short replies, or tries to move on, take the hint and let them be.
Don’t assume help is needed: If someone’s struggling, ask, “Would you like a hand?” Better still, wait to be asked.
Watch your words: Avoid comments that sound patronising or gendered. Focus encouragement on someone’s effort or skill, not their appearance.
Skip the compliments: Even well-meaning remarks about looks can be unsettling. Instead, appreciate someone’s determination and skill.

It’s also worth mentioning that not all contact is unwelcome. Hiking can be a great way to connect with people. In fact, I met my wife on a hike many years ago. Most people on the trail are friendly, respectful, and supportive. But that makes it even more important to tune into the setting and body language.

There’s no need to swing to the other extreme and avoid everyone. A smile, nod, wave, or “hello” is normal trail etiquette. But again, awareness is key. Respect space, and don’t push for interaction if you sense hesitation or discomfort. Safety and kindness on the trail aren’t about being closed off—they’re about being mindful.

Advocacy for Change

Men can be active allies by speaking up about inappropriate behaviour when it happens, whether that’s intervening in uncomfortable situations or setting positive examples of respect. Men should lead by example, choosing to remain conscious of women’s experiences and advocating for safer outdoor policies. Ask yourself, if this was my sister, how would I want other men to treat her?

By adopting these thoughtful practices, we can help ensure that outdoor spaces are welcoming, safe, and enjoyable for everyone.

Embracing the Wild Together

Women are taking up more space than ever before, in the outdoors and beyond, and that’s a fantastic thing. The future of hiking, and the wider outdoor world, will depend on our ability to foster an environment where everyone, regardless of gender, can feel safe and empowered. The more men and women collaborate to promote respect, knowledge, and equal access, the more we’ll see everyone thriving in nature.

I believe most people out there want everyone to feel safe and included. Sometimes it just takes hearing someone else’s experience to help us all reflect. Thanks, Vicky, for sharing yours and helping me reflect.

So, the next time you hit the trail solo, take a deep breath, trust your ability, and remember: you’re not just hiking, you’re taking your space in the wilderness. And for us guys, we’re part of a movement to make sure everyone has that space.

Women belong in wild places, and not just because they’ve earned it, prepared for it, or proven themselves. But because they want to be there. The trail ahead should be one of possibility, not fear. And it’s on all of us, especially men, to help clear the path.

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