This is a guest post by Alex McClain (full bio at the end). Submit your own hiking story to The Trek here.
YoIt’s surprising how often the 358-mile Long Path is overlooked as a long-distance hiking route. Despite its rich history, diverse landscapes and one of the best detailed online guidesIt remains a hidden gem, even among avid hikers.
I first came across the Long Path during a day hike in New York’s Harriman State Park. At first, it was just an occasional flash of aquatic flames along a path. But soon I started seeing them everywhere in Schunemunk, Minnewaska and the Catskills. Curiosity took over him. A few maps were spread out on the floor of my small Brooklyn bedroom, and I realized that it was a continuous path that stretched from New York City all the way through Albany, New York. An authentic long-distance route, hidden in plain sight.
I had always dreamed of completing a long distance hike, although a traditional hike was not in my plans. Instead, I set out to hike sections of the entire trail in a year using only public transportation. Living in Brooklyn, I was no stranger to the ins and outs of the train and bus system.
So, one morning in January, I grabbed my backpack, took the 5 train, transferred to the A, and got off at 175th Street. There, at the edge of the George Washington Bridge, the Long Walk officially began.
And also my trip.
The beginning of something new
The George Washington Bridge. Photo: John O’Connell
At the time, I was looking for a new challenge, something to anchor me when I couldn’t go north with my friend to hit the peaks for the Catskills 3500. Hiking had never been about marking peaks anyway. It was the excitement of discovering new trails and the satisfaction of pushing my physical limits.
Still, my desire to walk the Long Road was much deeper than that. I was overworked, creatively exhausted, and battling depression. Feeling alone in the city, trapped in a fog of tiredness and doubt.
After completing the first 12-mile section from 175th Street to the New Jersey/New York state line, I was hooked. That night, I shared my progress on the Friends of the Long Walk Facebook page, seeking advice. That’s when Andy, the president of the Long Trail, reached out and offered to walk sections three and four with me.
I had no idea that he would later become my follow-up angel. He helped me navigate the sections that public transportation doesn’t reach, making sure I could continue north. As we walked, he shared stories about completing the trail with his son, his efforts to reroute sections of pavement into the woods, and the challenges of working with private landowners. Through it, I learned about the history of the land, the old logging roads, the countless stone walls that mark the boundaries of forgotten properties and farms.
Alone but not lonely
I hiked alone for most of the trail, but occasionally my friend or Andy would join me on sections where it made sense to travel together. While I tried to walk north in order, life and logistics sometimes involved radical changes.
One weekend, my friend needed Peekamoose for his list and I needed that section of the Long Path, the perfect excuse for an overnight trip. Another weekend, Andy dropped me off at the end of Section 6 so I could connect it to Section 5. That day, I hiked the entirety of Harriman State Park, 19.5 miles, my longest day hike yet.
A very long night
Minnewaska State Park. Photo: roman fucs
One especially meaningful stretch was a backpacking trip through Minnewaska State Park, where my mother flew from the Midwest to accompany me. I chose this section for its scenic views and gentle terrain, easy enough for her to hike with just a backpack while I carried most of our gear.
The hike began uphill across sun-drenched, fire-scarred ridges dotted with oak trees. Later, we walked through halls of ferns dotted with animal tracks and a musky smell. I mentioned that there might be bears nearby, but tried not to alarm her. As we approached the camp, the evidence became impossible to ignore, scattered everywhere.
Neither of us slept much. The signs of bear activity were all too recent and disturbing sounds of growling and crunching echoed in the darkness. Finally morning came; We had spent the night. That day we shared panoramic views, laughter and many kilometers. After so many failed backpacking attempts in the past, this was the first trip we completed, reaching our original goal together.
Hey bear
The northern part of the Catskills Trail is much less traveled. I found myself standing next to towering pine trees, it was immediately beautiful and charming. Not long into the hike, a red fox crossed the trail in front of me and the feeling of magic in the forest only deepened. Somewhere along the way, I ran into Andy while he was doing trail maintenance. After a brief chat, I continued alone.
The path narrowed between ferns and rocks and, suddenly, there it was. my first black bear well, its backside. He ducked into the ferns before I could blink. I was paralyzed, with my heart racing, trapped between amazement and adrenaline. I shouted a few “hello bears,” just to make sure he was gone, and then laughed half-relieved, half-astonished.
The rest of the day I walked differently, more alert and aware. When I got to the trailhead, Andy was there and the first words out of my mouth were, “I saw my first bear!”
By fall, I had covered 284 miles.
In mid-October, I completed my longest backpacking trip on the trail, three days, four sections, and forty-six miles. After hiking through Mine Kill State Park, Andy joined me. Day One: 17.5 miles to Rossman Hill Shed. Day two: The fiery climb to Vroman’s Nose, rewarded with views of the Schoharie Valley and a well-deserved pepperoni pizza in Middleburgh.
Later, we camped at Cotton Hill Lean-to, where we encountered some rowdy campers who were ignoring the rules. Andy handled the situation calmly and eventually they left. I slept soundly that night, with the trekking poles nearby, but the morning brought me peace of mind and relief.
Andy left early for breakfast while I continued north alone. We met again at the end of the stretch and he handed me a bagel sandwich, which I devoured instantly. I then finished the six miles I had missed and joined him at the Middleburgh cliffs, a tricky lemon descent through some narrow rocks.
There were thirty miles left.
The final stretch
It was the last weekend of October and my goal was to finish in two days. The forecast called for sun on Saturday and rain on Sunday. Andy suggested finishing in one day. I hesitated; Thirty miles was more than I had walked in a single day, but the terrain was forgiving and I finally agreed.
We start at 7 am. The path was full of leaves and puddles. By mid-morning I found my rhythm. Somewhere along the way, Andy moved on, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I reflected on how far I had come since I started in January, stronger, more stable, more myself.
Nature had eased my depression, quieted the noise that once consumed me in the city. The journey gave me purpose, hope, and a reason to keep moving forward.
Later, I came out of the woods and found Andy waiting with a giant slice of pizza. I took some Advil, devoured the portion, and felt a renewed energy course through me. Ten miles to go.
We planned to meet again at John Thatcher State Park for the last few miles. The trail softened beneath my feet, the pine needles, the smell of resin, the sound of small streams running through the forest. I finally reached the top of the falls. I had missed the turnoff that led below them, but from the ridge I could see the Adirondacks and the Green Mountains in the distance. Little did I know then that one day I would live in the shadow of those peaks.
«I am who I am today thanks to this path.»
John Boyd Thatcher State Park. Photo: Connor McManus
When Andy and I reconnected, we were both eager to get to the finish line before dark. As daylight faded, the flames became difficult to detect. We missed a turn, backtracked and kept going.
We passed some late night hikers and when I told them what I was about to complete, they cheered me on. His words fueled the final stretch. Emotions rose and I tried to hold back tears.
Finally, I came out of the woods for the last time and there was the sign marking the north end of the Long Road. I did it. Thirty miles in twelve hours. Three hundred and fifty-eight miles from New York City to Albany, most of it solo.
I stood there in the fading light, exhausted, proud, and deeply alive.
This trail took me through more than just forests and mountains; took me through myself. It helped me overcome depression and the dark thoughts that once brought me down. The Long Walk became my therapy, my healing, my reason to keep moving forward. The trail became my companion, listening without judging. He encouraged me to keep moving forward, not just step by step, but forward in life.
I am who I am today thanks to this path. If I hadn’t found it, maybe I wouldn’t have found myself at all.
About the author
By day, Alex McClain designs socks at Darn Tough Vermont. On the weekend, she becomes the bird detective. She walks around in the same socks she designs and can be found outside walking and identifying birds by their sight, song and attitude. Alex has completed the Long Path, Northville-Placid Trail, and Wonderland Trail. He is currently rebuilding the Long Trail Side-to-Side, NH48, and the Cohos Trail, while planning a full Appalachian Trail hike in 2026.
Guest post by Alex McClain. Do you want your writing to appear on The Trek? Submit your own route story.
