I Hiked The AT With Less Than $2000: Here’s How

YoIf there is one thing that hiking has taught me, it is that I can do anything I set my mind to. And last spring, when the idea of ​​hiking the Appalachian Trail for the second time occurred to me, I didn’t want to wait. I wanted to start right away.

The only problem? I had about $2,000 to my name.

And unfortunately, walking in the woods for a few months costs a lot of money.

According The annual Trek surveyA hike on the Appalachian Trail cost nearly $8,000 on average last year. On my first hike in 2018, I spent about $6,000 in five months. So trying to do the same trip on a third of that budget seemed, objectively, a little unreasonable.

I knew the risks. I could run out of money. I might be forced to get off the road early. You could spend the entire walk stressing over every dollar.

But I also knew I wanted to try.

Before I started, I made it a goal to cut costs wherever I could. I saved aggressively, planned carefully, and let it sink in that this hike would be very different than the first. It would require more flexibility, more creativity, and more discomfort.

Here are the strategies that made it possible.

1. I almost never paid full price for accommodation

One of the biggest expenses on the road is time in the city. A single night in a hostel or motel can easily cost between $25 and $150, and those costs add up quickly over the course of a hike.

I made it a goal on my hike to try to avoid spending more than $10 on a place to stay, if possible. And I definitely achieved this goal.

How did I do it?

I contacted friends and friends of friends who lived near the trail and asked if they would be willing to put me up. That alone opened up more opportunities for me than I expected. People are usually more willing to help than we assume; all you have to do is ask.

I leaned heavily on the FarOut app to find shelters that were free, donation-based, or offered work per stay. And when possible, I opted to camp for free near the city instead of paying for a bed.

It required more planning and sometimes slightly awkward questions, and it wasn’t always glamorous. I didn’t have too many clean, fluffy beds or long, luxurious showers. But it saved me hundreds, if not thousands, of dollars over the course of the hike.

2. I mastered the art of Nero (and the hero)

If you’ve spent any time on a trail, you know how quickly «one day zero» can turn into two…or three…especially when you’re tired, it’s raining, and there’s a comfy bed and fun hikers involved.

This time I faced the days in the city in a different way.

I leaned a lot towards the “neros” (almost zero days) and the “heroes” (entering and leaving the city on the same day). Instead of automatically planning to spend the night, I would go into town with a specific mission: resupply, eat, charge my devices, maybe sit somewhere comfortable for a while, and then get back on the trail.

It required discipline, especially on days when I was exhausted and really wanted to stay. But it kept my momentum going, which actually made the hike feel smoother overall. I didn’t have to deal as much with that feeling of slowness and difficulty starting over that sometimes comes after a total zero.

And, of course, he saved money. Every night I wasn’t in town was money I didn’t have to worry about later.

3. I limited spending in restaurants

The food in the city is one of the most fun parts of hiking… but it also adds fast.

I set a simple rule: one restaurant meal per city, max. Everything else came from grocery stores.

This forced me to be intentional about what I really wanted, rather than impulsively ordering everything in sight, and helped me appreciate those meals so much more. That veggie burger and fries or whole pizza I ate in every city was always so good.

4. I avoided paid transportation

Transportation is one of those sneaky expenses that doesn’t seem like a big deal right now, but adds up quickly over time. Ubers are expensive and few in small trail towns, and local transportation services are incredible resources, but they can contribute to draining your budget.

I planned my resupplies carefully. Whenever I can, I choose towns where the trail passes directly or very close. That way, I could walk to grocery stores, shelters, restaurants, post offices, and anywhere else I needed to go.

This not only saved money, but also simplified everything. Without coordinating trips, without waiting, without depending on someone else’s schedule.

As a bonus, it also meant that I rarely had to hitchhike alone. When I hitchhiked, I tried to do it with other hikers if possible.

5. I looked for technical support for equipment

Equipment can be one of the biggest financial burdens when starting a hike. Fortunately, I already had a good number of items that saw a lot of use and still worked. For anything I needed to replace before I started, I did something I hadn’t done before. I reached out to a handful of gear companies I already knew and was happy to ask if they would consider supporting my hike.

I was very intentional with this. I only contacted brands that I actually used and would recommend anyway. Some were kind enough to help me, which significantly reduced my initial equipment costs. It’s something I don’t take lightly and I feel incredibly fortunate that my experience and connection to the hiking community has created those opportunities.

6. Maxxed Hiker Box

On this hike, I mastered the art of foraging. I went through every hiker box I could find and took everything I would use: fuel canisters, snacks, ramen, electrolyte mixes, toilet paper, KT tape. For anyone unfamiliar, these are basically boxes (usually at shelters or resupply points) where hikers leave food, gear, or supplies they don’t need.

There are so many things out there that need a home that might otherwise go to waste. Why buy new consumables when used ones are enough? Hiker boxes are one of the best resources on the trail if you’re trying to keep costs down.

One of the best ways to forage: foraging for wild blueberries!

7. I didn’t waste food, even when it was disgusting.

It’s simple: if I took or bought something, I ate it. Even if I didn’t like it, even if I had to swallow it.

It sounds insignificant, but wasting food is wasting money. And on a tight budget, every dollar counts. I definitely suffered through some dry, tasteless protein bars and some strange dinner combinations, but I reminded myself: It’s fuel, not a dining experience.

8. I accepted the magic of the spontaneous path

I don’t know if it was how tired I looked or the fact that I was alone, but hikers often offered me their extra snacks. At the beginning of my walk, I would politely decline. But eventually I was so hungry that I started accepting the offers. I started saying, «Sure, that would be great! I’m running out of money.» Because the truth almost always was I was getting exhausted, because of how much I was eating due to my hiker hunger.

Strangers often smiled when they realized they would be a small part of supporting my walk. People feel happy when they can help someone. Accepting assistance offered freely is not taking advantage; It is participating in something that is deeply rooted in the culture of the trail.

I think I can speak for many hikers when I offer a HUGE shout out to Fresh Ground for providing countless amazing meals on the trail.

9. I simply spent less time on the trail.

This one is easy: I walked faster than on my last few walks. Fewer days of walking meant fewer resupplies, fewer stops in town, and fewer opportunities to spend money. On my first hike, it took me about five months. This time, I moved with more intention and finished much faster, which naturally reduced my overall expenses.

The price I chose to pay

Hiking the AT for under $2000 wasn’t always comfortable. It required constant decision-making, a willingness to be resourceful and let go of many luxuries. But it also reminded me how little I need to survive and be happy. I loved having to get nervous and connect with people to find resources.

It also made every little luxury seem bigger. Every warm meal in the city, every dry place to sit, every quiet moment felt earned in a way that’s hard to replicate any other way. I didn’t take any part of my experience for granted.

Would I recommend this approach to everyone? Probably not. If you have the means to walk more comfortably, there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. Hiking is difficult enough.

But if money is the only thing stopping you from getting started, know: it’s technically possible to do it this way. You just have to decide what you are willing to trade for the experience and be willing to pay that price.

Cover image: Photo via Livvy Weld. Graphic design by Zack Goldman.