The Worst Moments of the John Muir Trail (2024 Survey)

During the John Muir Trail Hiker Survey, in addition to sharing the scariest moments of their JMT thru-hikes, JMT hikers also share the lowest moment(s) of the trail.

Hiking the JMT means more than blindly wandering down a path through the mountains while staring at your phone instead of the beautiful scenery all around you. A lot of the trail can, to put it plainly, suck. And sometimes, it sucks a lot (especially when there’s someone out there with a speaker or playing music from ther phone – if this is you, you suck).

If you are concerned about a loved one hiking the John Muir Trail or have doubts about undertaking this journey yourself, you may want to consider stopping reading now (or perhaps you need to continue).

Notes on the Data

• There were 468 completed surveys. Sign up for the survey here if you’re hiking the John Muir Trail next year.
• I refer to respondents collectively as the year’s “class.” Remember, this is a sample, not a comprehensive survey of every JMT hiker.
• Please note that each bullet point below is from a different JMT hiker (and not from me personally).
• I will release more detailed posts focused on other aspects of the John Muir Trail Survey data. To be notified of new posts, click here.

Social Challenges

• I have backpacked a lot alone; it’s something I’m accustomed to. However, I was unprepared for how lonely I got on this thru-hike. I think it was the length, combined with seeing all these groups of people enjoying each other’s company. I was hiking nobo, and I only met one other duo going NOBO – we hiked together and were friendly, but then our pace diverged. This loneliness made it harder when I had to make the difficult decision to hike out – I wanted to bounce my reasoning and thoughts off others, but there wasn’t anyone. (was north of Pinchot Pass and saw one person all day).

• Camping at Thousand Island Lake was way too crowded. It was a goal of mine to stay there, but the large number of people detracted from the experience for me. There were a lot of weekenders there. People were even playing their music out loud at camp, which was annoying. I wish my group had had the energy to push on to the next spot or wander around a bit more for something more secluded. It was still breathtakingly beautiful!

• My friend was screaming at me about everything that wasn’t perfect and was blaming me for everything wrong, almost every day. It was so bad that sometimes other people in camp or passing by hikers would ask if he was abusing me and if I was okay or not.

• The other instance was when I got into a heated argument with my friend and partner because they were unhappy with the campsite we found at Rae Lakes, and we had to spend another 20 minutes finding one that would make them happy. I was hot and tired and it was supposed to be a nearo day and we were supposed to enjoy the afternoon, but all they did was looking for a damn campsite.

• I saw eight domesticated dogs on the trail. There were two occasions when the dogs pooped, and their owners did not pick up the poop. In fact, they were defiant about it.

• Perhaps around halfway through, I began to feel really lonely. I didn’t feel like I had to leave the trail, but was looking forward to finishing. That only lasted a day or two, then I started feeling more connected with the trail and met some people. Also, the hike from Whitney Summit to Whitney Portal was physically and mentally grueling.

• Camping at Charlotte Lake — there was a horde of weekend backpackers making noise all night, and camping on vegetation right by the lakeshore. I wish I had taken a swim, filled my water bottles, and then packed back up to find a solitary camp.

• Encountering toilet paper under rocks numerous times, and when a father/son duo camped two feet (0.6 m) from our shelter, assuming we wanted to “hang out” and be a “trail family“. We were never asked if we were comfortable with how close they were.

Emotional Pits

• We completed the Glen and Kearsarge passes in one day to reach our resupply at the Onion Valley campground. I was exhausted, not just physically, but also emotionally and mentally, with a mix of feelings about the trail being almost over. I was ready for a break, but I was heartbroken to see it end. One of our party members was so eager to be done that they were pushing it harder than I felt up to, discussing the possibility of trying for Forester the next day. That was the only night I did not journal. I fell into bed and cried like a baby.

• It snowed and hailed the morning I was supposed to do Glen Pass, and it was consistently cold for five nights. I didn’t have enough layers to stay warm at night or early in the morning those days. Being cold was mentally challenging, and I had a harder time getting out of my tent those mornings.

• Descending Whitney to the Whitney Portal. Long, difficult trail in rain/hail. My shoes were no longer effective, and the trail was challenging in those conditions. I was physically and probably emotionally spent.

• After clearing Muir Pass southbound, it had been three pretty unenjoyable days in a row of hiking, and we were squarely in the middle of our 16-day itinerary. That was the lowest moment for me; I had to accept that the actual hiking aspect would often be unpleasant.

• Either ascending the first step of Muir Pass while overheating in my raincoat and getting eaten by mosquitoes, or bushwhacking through the massive blowdown section on the north end of Glen Pass.

Physically Broken

• The night before crossing Muir Pass, I camped below Evolution Lake. The next day, by the time I reached the pass, I had been hiking for six hours and was exhausted. My legs were shaking; I had no appetite, no water, and I seriously considered turning back, just to be able to bail out from the trail, which was going all downhill. I panicked for an hour in the hut, then decided to go on. I checked my map and told myself I had to reach the first proper campsite before I fainted. I spent the next two hours descending on the most rugged part of the trail so far, and made it. Dropped my pack on a lakeside, grabbed some snacks, and watched the nearby pikas running around for an hour.

• Going up the Golden Staircase. It was late in the afternoon. We’d hiked many miles (since the Rock Monster) that day already. My energy was extremely low, for I hadn’t slept very well the night before. I had found a single watermelon Jolly Rancher at Muir Trail Ranch and had saved it, so halfway up the Golden Staircase, I sucked on it, and it gave me enough oomph to make it up to camp at the Palisade Lake outlet. I was really dragging by then.

• The Vermillion Valley Resort to Muir Trail Ranch stretch, dealing with terrible blisters on both pinky toes due to my shoes being too small. Hiked in my Bedrock Sandals for three days while nursing blister issues. Trail angel Keith had a whole first aid kit’s worth of medical supplies and Moleskine and cloth tape to donate to me. I thought the blisters would take me off the trail and end my hike, but it was all uphill after my worst day descending Muir Pass.

• I struggled with the altitude – the worst was the day we ascended Whitney. I was so slow; I had a headache and wasn’t hungry. I knew i had to eat because it was our longer day, but the only thing i could eat was sugar. It’s very frustrating to know that you’re in shape, but altitude can mess with you.

• Seeing my brother get Achilles tendonitis the day after doing Mount Whitney (going northbound). Realizing he was done on the trail, he planned a self-evacuation to get him out via Onion Valley. Then going back in to finish the trail without him the next day after he had left town.

Everything Going Wrong

• Going up Pinchot Pass was hard. It’s not a long approach, but it’s steep and rugged. Donahue Pass was challenging, but only because we were still getting our proper trail legs. We had rain, hail, thunder, and lightning on our first two days. My brother, my hiking partner, had a lot of trouble with chafing from his pack’s hip belt, which was far too small, as advised by the sales staff at REI, who insisted it was correct. It’s mid-October, and he still has scars on his hips. It was SUPER EFFING COLD and windy from Trail Crest to the Whiney Summit this year. Ouch. We also hiked this year’s JMT in honor of our late mother, so we had some tears on the Whitney summit. We both miss her like hell every single day.

• Our pack train resupply (Sequoia Kings) was supposed to bring our resupply to us on the trail, and they mixed up our days and didn’t have it with them when they arrived (although we had confirmed with them twice that week about our arrival date). It was my birthday too. I took it very badly and was extremely sad, as I had sent myself special birthday treats, and it had been nine days since our last resupply. We had to pick through other hikers’ leftovers to get enough food for the last leg of our journey. We paid a significant amount for that service and have still not received a refund.

• Going back up Kearsarge Pass in the heat of the day, even though we had gotten there at 7 am. My hiking partner left their phone in a trail angel’s car, and the angel couldn’t return to the trailhead until 3 pm. We had just returned from a double zero in Bishop – it was a super hot day, a storm was coming, we had a full resupply, and the climb seemed never-ending. I almost turned around and went back to Bishop.

• Happy Isles to Sunset Creek was tough as I was still acclimating and getting my trail legs. Having the most ascent of the JMT on the first day is a challenge. We also experienced a thunderstorm and lightning on our first day, which added to the stress and raised questions about whether hiking the JMT was a good idea.

Wanting to Quit

• The evening after we completed both Donohue Pass and Island Pass, they were both wonderful. However, we arrived at Emerald Lake exhausted after trudging through a lot of snow and knew we had a long way to go before Reds Meadow. We considered just quitting at Reds and hiring a car to go to Las Vegas. We struggled with altitude quite a lot in the first week, so we were exhausted, and knew we were only about a quarter of the way. But somehow, knowing we could quit whenever spurred us on. We camped and had a good, long sleep, and eventually it was fine; we continued to the end.

• I had summited Whitney for sunrise and then continued northbound (I had started at Cottonwood a couple of days prior). By mid-afternoon, exhausted from lack of sleep, battered by the sun, and swarmed by mosquitoes, I was mentally and physically defeated, knowing I had to climb Forester the next day. I had also had a nose bleed due to elevation and dryness for more than 1.5 hrs that day. I decided to camp at Wallace Creek, despite the mosquitoes and the fact that it was only 2:30 pm. I doubted my ability to complete the trail.

• I was nauseated for probably 85% of the hike due to pre-existing health issues I hadn’t worked out before going on the trail. It was particularly challenging going over Pinochet Pass because I was nauseous that morning and couldn’t eat much breakfast; it was very hot, we had almost no shade, and we were going over it in the afternoon. I cried four or five times and wanted to bail out to Roads End instead because I was so sick of being sick in the backcountry.

• When we were at Reds Meadow, it rained all night and then snowed in the morning. It was so cold, and we didn’t know if the weather was going to continue to be bad for the rest of the trip. That was the one day I thought we might not make it.

• I realized I left my baselayers and other clothes in the dryer at Reds Meadow. I was already doubting myself at that point, and was quite behind schedule. I called it quits because I was worried I’d continue to lose more items, and I was solo.

JMT Horror Stories Word Cloud

Have a tale of woe from a John Muir Trail thru-hike? Leave a comment below and warn future JMT classes of the awfulness that awaits them on their thru-hikes.

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