When I decided to hike every day for 30 days, I had a few goals in mind. I wanted to challenge myself, explore more of the Oregon Coast, and give my YouTube channel a much-needed kick in the butt. Things had started to feel a little mundane, and nothing says let’s shake things up like voluntarily walking into the woods 30 days in a row.

What could possibly go wrong?

As it turns out, a lot can go wrong. It mostly involved rain and my rickety, old lady knees.

But somewhere between the muddy trails and days when I questioned why I hadn’t simply taken up pickleball instead, I learned a few things about myself that I didn’t expect.

The Intimidation Was Mostly in My Head

Going into this challenge, I genuinely wasn’t sure I could do it.

Thirty hikes sounds reasonable when you’re sitting comfortably on your couch, scrolling through beautiful trail photos and imagining yourself as the kind of person who wakes up excited to put on hiking boots.

The reality is, 30 consecutive days of actually getting off the couch is really difficult.

I worried about the physical challenge, the time commitment, and whether I’d run out of places to go. I also had a YouTube channel to run, which meant every hike came with the added responsibility of filming enough footage to turn the experience into something people might actually want to watch.

Apparently, I couldn’t just go for a walk like a normal person. I had to make a literal scene out of it.

The biggest lesson was learning how to pace myself. Not every hike had to be a five-hour sufferfest that left me googling how safe it was for my heart to be doing that weird little fluttering thing it was doing. Some days could be challenging, while others could be short, easy walks that got me outside without completely destroying me for the next day.

Once I started alternating the tougher hikes with easier ones, the challenge became much more manageable.

It turns out you don’t have to absolutely demolish yourself every day to accomplish something worthwhile. Who knew?

Mother Nature Was Not in Communication With My Schedule

One huge lesson I learned was that the weather forecast on the oregon coast is a GUIDELINE, it’s not an actual “this is exactly what will fall out of the sky today”trustworthy forecast. I mean zero shade to the fine folks at Accuweather, by the way. I’m told no one could accurately predict the weather here, and I believe that now.

Some days were cold. Some were rainy. Some were both, because apparently one form of discomfort wasn’t enough.

And then there was the day it snowed.

Snow. During my 30 Hikes in 30 Days challenge. THAT was fun to experience before I got my first pair of microspikes. But I’ve since formally apologized to the weather gods for whatever I did to deserve that. And luckily, it happened on a day when the hike was short and the climb wasn’t at all technical.

There is something uniquely soul crushing about voluntarily leaving a warm house to hike in freezing rain when I could very easily stay home, make a coffee, and watch someone else’s hiking video instead while I sat in my fleece onesie curled up with my chiweenie.

There were days when getting out the door was the hardest part. About a week in, I was very low on motivation to finish, and even lower on energy. And I certainly didn’t wake up every morning bursting with enthusiasm at the prospect of putting on damp hiking gear.

But I went anyway. Partially because it’s embarrassing to fail at something when you know people are watching you. And partially because it was embarrassing to myself that something like this would be so hard for me. Especially when it was ME who was setting the schedule.

Almost every time when I felt tired and went anyway, things felt easier once I was actually out on the trail. The fresh air helped. The greenery helped. Being away from my usual, sedentary routine helped.

Even on the miserable-weather days, I never regretted going. Not once.

I did, however, develop a much deeper appreciation for my space heater that dried my boots at the end of every day.

The Hikes That Stayed With Me

Not every hike was life-changing, and I think that’s important to acknowledge. Some trails were simply nice walks in the woods, which is perfectly fine. Not every outing needs to deliver a spiritual awakening and a new personality.

But a few hikes really stuck with me.

Sweet Creek Falls

Sweet Creek Falls was one of those places that made me wonder how more people aren’t talking about it. Maybe they are and I just never hear about it, but this trail is unbelievably beautiful. Like, Lord of the Rings beautiful. Aside from the main cascade, the greenery on this trail is so lush that it looks like a movie set instead of a real, natural place. And the trail meanders through the forest alongside the creek, with lots of little places to relax and check out smaller falls.

It’s one of those trails that’s so beautiful AND so unbelievably easy that it doesn’t make sense why it’s not overrun. And while I’m glad it’s mostly unknown, I’m still thoroughly shocked.

I felt hesitant to include it on this list, despite it leaving such an impression on me. Why? Because SO many people are oblivious to Leave No Trace ethics and I didn’t want a crowd to appear there and destroy it. So I’m doing my due diligence and imploring you to stay out of the wilderness until you’re familiar with LNT, which you can learn about in this video. If you go outside and leave anything behind other than your tracks, then you shouldn’t be outside at all.

Neskowin Ghost Forest: A Beautiful Reminder That Nothing Lasts Forever

The Neskowin Ghost Forest was a very different experience.

It’s one thing to read about the history of a place. It’s another thing entirely to stand there and see the evidence of what happened with your own eyes.

The ancient tree stumps scattered along the beach are haunting. They make the landscape feel almost otherworldly, but there’s a sobering reality behind them. These trees were once part of a living forest, and a major geological event left them exposed across the sand. Walking up to the stumps, I could clearly see the wood grain and imagine the beautiful evergreens towering around me in a vibrant and peaceful forest. And the geological event that plunged them into the sand and ocean seems like science fiction.

It’s beautiful, because it’s simply the physics of our planet doing their thing. But it’s also unsettling.

Living on the Oregon Coast, it’s easy to become complacent to the scenery. The cliffs, beaches, and forests become part of every day life.

But places like the Ghost Forest remind you that the coast isn’t a static postcard. It’s constantly shifting. Sometimes it’s subtle and unnoticeable, and sometimes it’s planet altering, like the event that created the ghost forest.

It’s a certainty that a mega thrust earthquake will happen here again, and if that thought doesn’t sober you up, you should really go to Neskowin.

I spent more time at this spot thinking about what had happened here instead of looking for things to film. Which, for someone who regularly stops to film approximately 47 angles of every mushroom she sees, is saying something.

God’s Thumb (How Did I Not Know This Was Here?!)

God’s Thumb was another highlight, largely because I hadn’t even known this beautiful hike existed until I started actively searching for places to visit.

Just north of God’s Thumb sits Cascade Head, one of my FAVORITES on the coast. Cascade Head looks down on God’s Thumb, and even though the view is spectacular it never occurred to me to head down and explore what was in that view.

That’s one of the things I loved most about this challenge. It gave me a reason to stop assuming I already knew what was around me.

Instead of repeating the same familiar outings for every hike, I was constantly looking for somewhere new to explore.

And sometimes the reward was a view like God’s Thumb. Whenever I think I’ve seen everything there is to see on the oregon coast, it casually produces something else that makes you reconsider your entire ranking system.

Very inconsiderate of it, honestly. How am I supposed to choose a favorite hike in a place like this?!

Hiking Alone Became Much Less Scary

One of the biggest personal changes from this challenge was becoming more comfortable hiking alone.

Before I started, solo hiking felt intimidating. Being out in the woods by yourself can make your imagination work overtime, especially when you’re somewhere unfamiliar and every suspicious rustle suddenly sounds like it belongs to a bear, mountain lion, or serial killer. A perfectly ordinary branch snaps in the distance, and suddenly my brain is producing a full-length Netflix documentary about how I died.

But the more I did it, the more comfortable I became.

I learned that I could navigate trails on my own, spend time in nature without needing someone else there, and enjoy the experience without constantly thinking about the fact that I was alone.

I didn’t need to wait for someone else’s schedule to line up with mine. I didn’t have to convince anyone to come along. If I wanted to hike somewhere, I could just go. That freedom was surprisingly confidence-boosting.

Of course, solo hiking still requires common sense. I made sure to consider trail conditions, weather, and safety, and to let someone know where I was going. Becoming more confident didn’t mean pretending the outdoors was completely risk-free.

It simply meant realizing that being alone wasn’t automatically something to be afraid of.

Apparently, I Also Became More Opinionated

The hiking challenge was originally supposed to be about getting outdoors and challenging myself physically. I wasn’t expecting it to change the way I approached my YouTube channel, but it did.

Before the challenge, my content had started to feel a little ho hum. I wanted to shake things up, find new places to explore, and give myself a creative project that forced me to try something different.

As the month went on, I became more confident in my editing style. I got more decisive about what I wanted my videos to look and feel like, and I became much more cutthroat about what deserved to stay in an edit.

Not every clip needs to make the final cut. Not every beautiful view needs a 45-second montage. And just because I spent 20 minutes filming something doesn’t mean it automatically deserves screen time. It would break your heart to know how many videos of amazing mushrooms and rocks were left on the proverbial cutting room floor.

I think the challenge helped me become more comfortable trusting my own judgment. I had a goal, that goal had a deadline, and I had 30 separate hiking experiences to turn into something creative.

There wasn’t time to endlessly second-guess every decision.

Sometimes you just have to make the call, move on, and accept that the world will continue spinning even if your transition isn’t perfect.

The Secret Wasn’t Motivation. It Was Going When There Was Zero Motivation.

If there’s one thing I want people to take away from this experience, it’s that you don’t have to be an experienced hiker or an exceptionally athletic person to get started. I certainly wasn’t.

You don’t need to tackle a difficult mountain trail every weekend. You don’t need expensive gear, an elaborate fitness plan, or the ability to hike 10 miles without breaking a sweat. You just need to start somewhere.

The hardest part was often convincing myself to go in the first place. Once I was out there, I usually found my rhythm. Even when the weather was awful or I was tired, the actual experience was rarely as uncomfortable as I had imagined.

I also learned that consistency doesn’t mean doing the same thing at the same intensity every day. Some days were harder than others, and planning around that made a huge difference. The easy hikes counted just as much toward my goal as the difficult ones. They kept me moving, gave me time outdoors, and allowed me to recover without abandoning the challenge.

We tend to think that if something isn’t difficult, it doesn’t count. If I’m not exhausted, I’m not making progress. If I’m not pushing myself to the absolute limit, I’m somehow cheating. But I think there’s something valuable about showing up consistently, even when what I’m doing seems small.

A short walk is still a walk. An easy trail is still time spent outdoors. And 30 days of small efforts can add up to something much bigger than you expect.

I didn’t have to make every day impressive. I just had to make an effort. Preferably while wearing wool socks. Learn from my mistakes.

Thirty Days Later, I Wasn’t a Different Person. I Was a More Confident One.

I didn’t finish this challenge as some magically transformed outdoor athlete who now wakes up at 5 a.m. eager to run uphill in the snow.

Let’s keep expectations realistic.

But I did finish knowing that I was capable of more than I had initially given myself credit for.

I became more comfortable hiking alone. I explored parts of the Oregon Coast I might never have visited otherwise. I found beautiful places that reminded me why I love living here. I challenged myself creatively and became more confident in the content I was making.

Most importantly, I learned that something can feel intimidating before you start and still be completely manageable once you plan for it.

Thirty hikes sounded overwhelming when I looked at the entire list of hikes I created all at once. But I wasn’t really doing 30 hikes all at the same time. I was doing one hike today, then another tomorrow, adjusting when necessary and figuring things out as I went.

That’s a much less intimidating way to approach just about anything.

Would I recommend hiking every day for 30 days? Yes, as long as you choose trails that suit you, plan for recovery, and pay attention to weather and trail conditions.

I would absolutely recommend finding a small daily challenge of your own. It doesn’t have to be hiking. It doesn’t even have to be particularly difficult. Just find something you want to do, start small, and keep showing up. I feel like this logic applies to most things in life.

And if nothing else, you’ll probably discover a few beautiful places, get some fresh air, and develop a deeply personal relationship with nature and how welcoming it can be.

Honestly, that’s not a bad deal.

Thirty hikes. Thirty days. And a pretty good reminder that sometimes the only thing standing between you and a great experience is the decision to get off the couch.