I Hiked the John Muir Trail – Here’s What I Wished I Knew Before I Did

Hiking the John Muir Trail

Okay, so here’s the thing about hiking the John Muir Trail: you think you know what you’re getting into, but you really, really don’t. Well, I didn’t anyway.

Here are some things I wish I knew before I stepped foot on one of the best hiking trails I’ve ever had in my life.

Getting a Permit is HARD

In case you didn’t know, you can’t just start walking on the JMT. There’s a lottery process where they give out hiking permits.

I had my mind set on Happy Isles -> Whitney Portal permits. Denied, denied, denied.

Ended up going NOBO starting in Cottonwood. I did learn of this too late though: Recreation.gov releases unclaimed permits at 7 AM PST (22 weeks before your Yosemite date, six months for Inyo).

Set alarms, refresh the page right at 7, and check out within 15 minutes. Or, just keep refreshing because some people fail to check out in time.

You can also walk up at the ranger station wayyyy before they open and take a chance. Do this for a few days and you’re very likely to get one.

My ‘Training’ Was a Joke

I honestly thought weekend hiking would be enough. HA! The trail starts at 8,000 feet and tops out at 14,505 feet on Whitney.

The first week, I couldn’t sleep because of the altitude, could barely eat, and my legs felt like concrete.

People don’t realize that training for altitude means more than just walking uphill. You need targeted strength training for legs and core, plus serious cardio work.

Weight Matters More Than You Think

My first pack weighed 35 pounds. By day three, I was pulling stuff out and leaving it at resupply stations.

That fancy camping chair? Gone. Extra clothes? Gone. Camera with three lenses? Kept one. My shoulders were killing me and I still had 180 miles to go.

Eventually got down to 25 pounds with food and water. The ultralight gear I’d dismissed as unnecessarily expensive started to make sense.

Things like down sleeping bags, titanium cookware, and compact water filters. And I should’ve used a digital scale to weigh every item.

Felt obsessive at the time but it made a lot more sense when I was climbing my fourth pass of the day.

Food, Water, and Math

Main resupply points are Tuolumne Meadows, Muir Trail Ranch, Red’s Meadow Resort, and Kearsarge Pass. I brought a Sawyer Squeeze filter – barely 3 ounces and worth its weight in gold.

Sierra streams are clear but still need filtering – giardia is no joke at 10,000 feet. Food was trickier.

You need 3-4 days worth between resupply points. I packed too much for some sections, not enough for others.

Didn’t account for how altitude kills your appetite the first week, then doubles it the second. Or how four days of trail mix makes you never want to see another raisin in your life.

Maps Don’t Show Everything

The trail disappeared under snow three times. Once in fog so thick I could barely see my feet. Phone GPS died in the cold.

The paper maps I almost didn’t bring became my lifeline. I used Tom Harrison Maps which are specifically made for California trails.

Also carried a Garmin eTrex 10 with extra batteries and downloaded offline maps.

Dress for the Worst

The Sierra Nevada has its own weather patterns. Bright sun at breakfast meant nothing by lunch.

My worst day: clear skies turned to hail, then snow, then rain. All before 2 PM. In August.

I’m still thanking my past self for packing layers. I had my trusty Patagonia and Arc’teryx waterproof shell, moisture-wicking base layers, and insulating mid-layers.

Brought a SOL Emergency Bivy that weighed nothing but gave me huge peace of mind.

The Alone Part

Here’s something they don’t tell you in all those JTM trail guides. You spend A LOT of time alone with your thoughts. Like, a lot a lot.

The physical stuff is hard, sure, but dealing with loneliness? They don’t mention how it feels to walk alone for eight hours straight. Or what happens to your mind when it rains for three days and everything you own is damp.

Started talking to marmots by week two. They’re surprisingly good listeners.

Real Talk About Money

Final cost: about $1,300. Could’ve done it cheaper, could’ve spent more. Most of it went to gear, transportation, and food.

The gear I tried to save money on – my sleeping bag, rain jacket, shoes – all had to be replaced eventually. Better to buy the right stuff first.

Luck Had a Lot to Do With It

July worked out for me. Snow was mostly gone, rivers were manageable, and the weather was decent. But that’s just luck.

Met people who hiked it in June and had to deal with dangerous river crossings. September hikers hit early snow. You pick your dates months in advance and hope the weather cooperates.

Things Will Break and That’s Okay

My stove died near Muir Trail Ranch. The water filter clogged twice. Lost a trekking pole somewhere after Forester Pass. You adapt.

The trail teaches you what’s actually essential and what just seems essential from your couch. So if you’re thinking about hiking the JMT: yes, it’s hard. Like, really hard.

But it’s also incredible in ways I can’t even explain. Every brutal climb, every incredible view, every random person I met along the way.

And most importantly, it’s learning how little you need and how much you can handle. Sometimes both at once.