The Lessons I Learned In Oregon By Doing This at Age 60

I did it. You can, too. I promise.

By

Julie Frieder

 
Published July 01, 2025
photo collage of woman surrounded by sights in Oregon
Elena Lacey (Courtesy Julie Frieder, 2; Getty Images, 12)

When I turned 60, I made a deal with myself to do my first solo thru-hike. By first, I mean being a beginner, that’s right, a 60-year-old rookie. By solo, I mean by myself. Not with a group. Not with my family. All by myself. And by thru-hike, I mean walking the full length of an established route, from start to finish.

I wanted to mark the occasion of turning 60 with a major challenge. I wanted a break from the mayhem of modern living. Most importantly, as one who thrives on adventure, I just wanted to see what I could learn and how it would feel to take a really, really long walk.

The Oregon Coast Trail is 413 miles of spectacular coastal terrain. My first night on the trail, I camped at Fort Stevens State Park. From there, it’s all south for 30 days to the California border. A significant portion of the trail, approximately 70 percent, is uninterrupted beach walking, and this time of year, the prevailing winds are northerly, so I’d have a nice tailwind most days.

Lying in my tiny tent that first night, in a rainstorm, and emerging dry the next morning, prepped me for the adventures ahead. I knew there’d be wooded sections with hobbit-like rainforests, towering Sitka Spruce trees, giant ferns and velvety mosses. I’d read about the river crossings, sand dunes and fishing towns and was surprised by 1000-foot rocky headlands that served up salt air, mist and exhilaration.

Oregon's natural beauty has something for everyone, which is one of the reasons it’s a fabulous choice for older adults. Hikers can chunk adventures into 3-5 day segments with challenging day hikes, historic lighthouse visits and evenings in hotels or B&Bs with a warm, dry bed. I wanted the whole enchilada, so I trained consistently for a few months and went in with 413 miles of determination. I was ready.

My 30 days on the trail was everything I hoped for and more. I camped most nights but mixed in a hostel, a couple of hotels and two nights in a cottage in Yachats. I intentionally veered off track quite frequently and dropped into every independent bookstore on the Oregon Coast. Turns out, indie booksellers know the best coffee shops, so my trek included stops for cappuccinos and a wide sampling of Oregon berry scones. Day by day, I encountered high and low tides to contend with, routes to navigate and fascinating people to befriend.

On my first solo thru hike, I found a deeply satisfying rhythm, a quietude I never knew I had and many unexpected lessons of the trail. The biggest takeaways are:

Lesson 1 — When solo hiking, you may be alone, but it’s never lonely. I chose to hike in the shoulder season from mid-September to mid-October. Summer crowds were back to school and work, but most services and shops remained open. My walks were long and steady, 10 to 15 miles per day, often with no human contact, but plenty of anemones, jellyfish, shorebirds and my own thoughts. Meeting locals and other travelers brought a burst of enthusiasm and stories.

Lesson 2 — On the trail, age is irrelevant. No one cared that I am 60. Age simply does not matter. Wisdom comes from trail miles, not years. Though it’s cliché to say, motion is lotion, and hiking makes us all young at heart.

Lesson 3 — Solo hiking invites focus and simplicity. Walking a dozen miles a day is a purposeful and liberating existence. It helped me clear away the chatter, clutter and distractions. All I had to do was wake up, brush my teeth, drink coffee, eat oatmeal, pack stuff, and notice and appreciate the gorgeous tall trees and rays of morning light. It’s so simple. Everything I needed was on my back. That nagging feeling of always having to be productive vaporized into the Pacific Northwest humidity.

Lesson 4  — Fear takes up a lot of space; letting go of fear makes room for discovery. The possibility of a tsunami scared the dickens out of me. But guess what? Tsunamis mostly don’t happen. And if there is going to be a tsunami, there are warning systems and evacuation routes. When I finally accepted this, I was able to completely fall in love with the Pacific Ocean. I noticed the different colors of the water, the quality of waves, the variation in texture and the sound of the sand.

When I had to turn inland at night to camp, I missed the ocean. And each morning, upon hearing, smelling, seeing and feeling the ocean, I’d smile with deep delight. The ocean filled me up. I would never have known this true love without letting go of fear.

Lesson 5 — Trail angels are real. Gratitude begets goodness. Your trail angel might be a local who gives you directions or a park ranger who tells you about a special camp spot on top of Tillamook Head with a secret perch looking out to the ocean and a heart-shaped mossy spot to pitch a one-person tent (best night on the trail!). You might happen upon a perfect place to sit and take a break at exactly the time you need to take a break. Noticing and appreciating these gifts is a choice, a traveling mindset.

Solo hiking is challenging in unexpected ways and rewarding in a million other ways. Walking the Oregon Coast Trail filled my 60-year-old tank. I hope you push through sweaty-palm fear as you flirt with your next big adventure. Being a beginner is good for us, so laugh and humble yourself. Enjoy figuring it out on your own or seeking guidance from a 20-year-old who’s done it before.

You only get to be a rookie once, and it’s luscious, fleeting, blessed, scary, satisfying, funny, hard and meaningful. I have nothing but gratitude and contentment. I did it. You can too. I promise. Happy Trails.

Would you ever consider doing a hike like this writer? Why or why not? Let us know in the comments below.

Eleven years ago my family and I took a 13-month road trip around the US. We traveled 25, 000 miles through this gorgeous country and used the world as a classroom for our nine year old son. That year of year of travel informed my first book, Wonder Year: A Guide to Long-Term Family Travel and Worldschooling (Wonderwell Press, September 2023). Today, I live in Boulder, CO and I am planning my next big adventure! Give me a shout if I can help you plan yours!