Money, budgets and the cost of freedom

Hiking is expensive. Walking is free. Nature is free. You sleep on the ground. What could cost money?

All. Absolutely everything.

The cost of two lives: the one on the road and the one at home

I’ve been budgeting for the AT to make sure I can afford this trip. And here’s the uncomfortable truth: while the path itself It’s not cheap, what really makes a hike expensive are the things about home life that you can’t pause while you’re gone. In a way, you’re not leaving reality: you’re paying rent to reserve your seat for when you return. At least that’s my case. While I’m looking forward to my Appalachian Trail adventure, I’m also aware that I want to have something to come home with.

When the “life on standby” framework is added to the surge budget, the actual cost easily doubles. Possibly more, depending on how fond you are of roofing and financial stability. That’s why for me making a budget was not an option, but rather the keeper. I needed to know, not hope, that this was doable.

So… how? Am Can I afford it?

Short answer: time, consistency, and boring decisions made years ago.

Longer answer:

• Saving: I have been saving money since I graduated from college. No grand plan, no vision board, just a beginning and the knowledge that future me might be grateful for it one day. Turns out it was quietly brilliant, because I’m so grateful for it!
• Sensible spending: I’ve worked full-time continuously since graduating, and while I’m not very frugal, I’ve made sound financial decisions along the way:
  • I didn’t buy a new car just because the old one seems tired, makes some strange noises, and feels a little emotionally fragile. No, I drive that little blue machine with pride.
  • I didn’t renovate my apartment to keep up with Instagram interiors. I have cheap IKEA furniture and buy it secondhand when I can.
  • My holidays have mostly consisted of tents, boots and weather.No flights, cocktails and hotel robes.
  • I cook at home. A lot. Like a responsible adult with onions and carrots in the refrigerator.
• Gear: Hiking is my main hobby, which means I already have most of the gear I’ll need.
• Mortgage: I suspended mortgage payments for six months (interest only) and rented my apartment, covering most of the expenses associated with my apartment.
• Student Loans? Also suspended for six months.
• Earn extra: I’ve had two side hustles to help save more: dog sitting/walking and freelancing on a small scale as a consultant on contracting jobs.
• Additional Plot Twist: my last paycheck from work was not included in my original budget and I did not consider it to arrive on my start date. That means all of this can go towards my expenses on the road. Surprise buffer unlocked.

Dog walking has helped me stay in shape AND save some extra money for my trip.

My Spending Strategy (aka Controlled Freedom)

My goal is an average spending on trails. I don’t want to waste, but I also refuse to turn this walk into a sad experiment in resistance to deprivation. This will be the adventure of my life and I want to live it fully (although somewhat sensibly).

Some non-negotiables:

• Shoes. When they’re done, they’re done. Foot care is not where we take shortcuts.
• Hostels from the beginning. I’m starting early in the season, which can mean cold, wet, and sometimes exhausting weather. Hot food, showers and morale are important. If that costs money, so be it.

I think the budget should support the experience, not stifle it. However, I want to spend wisely and have done some thinking about how to save money along the way, but also what I’m willing to spend more on:

Things that will help me save money

Several small decisions add up:

• I intend to consume a minimal amount of alcohol along the way (both my wallet and my body will probably thank me).
• I hope to find a Tramily, who could help by sharing the costs of rooms and logistics when possible.
• Whenever possible, buy grocery items instead of backpacking meals.
• A strict six-month visa deadline, no epic (and expensive) side quests.
• Mid-hike trips home are not permitted. Too far, too expensive and too disruptive.
• I’m starting with the equipment I already have and only replacing things when I really know what I’ll need. It’s so easy to get obsessed with gear before the trail, but let’s be real: I won’t know what’s right for me and what I’ll need until I’m there.

Things that could cost me more than planned

Let’s be honest:

• More hostels soon. I haven’t been the best at physical preparation, so I might even be doing a little slackpacking if my body needs more time to adjust to walking every day.
• Shoes. Lots of shoes. My grandmother always said «take care of your head and your feet. Then your head and your feet will take care of what’s in between.» I’m following that.
• As it gets warmer, I will switch to a new quilt and throw to set up my hammock. Buying new ones will probably be easier logistically than shipping my kit from Norway. But it’s going to cost me.
• Coming from abroad also means not having refill boxes to help me save money on food.
• Sending equipment home—internationally—which basically consists of paying shipping per gram.
• Weight loss. I’m starting off heavy. If I go down a few sizes, I’ll need new clothes.

None of this is surprising. It is simply reality that carries a price tag.

Shoes are something I won’t skimp on. 11 Blisters on West Highland Way taught me how to take care of my feet!

Financial fears

Honestly? My fears and concerns about the trail are not primarily financial. One of the big potentials for me was the fear of getting injured and needing medical attention. I’ve heard some horror stories of people who went bankrupt due to medical bills. Norwegian healthcare has spoiled me as it is basically free. Going somewhere very different means paying for adequate travel and medical coverage, and I absolutely did that.

The greatest uncertainty occurs after the increase. I return home without work. And since I voluntarily resigned, there is an 18-week waiting period before receiving any government support. That makes finding a job relatively quick… important. Let’s cross our fingers. Maybe toes crossed too.

I’m sure I’m privileged

I am deeply aware that this type of freedom is not universal and perhaps not even common. I’m not rich by any means, but I am incredibly privileged:

• I live in a country with strong support systems.
• I have had a stable job for years.
• I have been able to save consistently for a long time.
• I live very close to nature, which makes my hobby affordable and accessible.

Money probably won’t be my biggest challenge along the way. Time, fitness, resilience, mindset – that’s where the real work begins. It turns out that freedom comes at a cost, and it’s a big deal.
But, for me, this is the right investment.

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