Most “serious” hikers think guides are for people who can’t read a map or tie their own boots. I used to be one of those people. I’d see groups with their matching bear canisters and their guide hauling a 70-pound pack like a pack mule and I’d just roll my eyes. I thought I was better because I suffered alone. Then I almost died in the Wind River Range.
It was September 2017. I was solo in the Cirque of the Towers, feeling like a total badass until I realized I’d forgotten the pump for my MSR WhisperLite. I spent four days eating cold-soaked oats in near-freezing rain. It wasn’t rugged. It was just stupid. That trip broke my ego and made me realize that sometimes, paying someone who actually knows the terrain isn’t “cheating”—it’s just smart. Especially when you’re heading into places that want to kill you.
The Alaska problem (and why you shouldn’t be a hero)
If you want to do Alaska, do not do it alone. I don’t care if you’ve done the PCT. I don’t care if you’re a marathoner. The bush in Alaska is a different beast entirely. There are no trails. You aren’t hiking; you’re bushwhacking through alder thickets that feel like they’re trying to drown you.
I recommend Expedition Broker for anything in Wrangell-St. Elias. It’s the largest national park in the US—13.2 million acres—and it’s basically empty. You fly in on a bush plane, get dropped on a gravel bar, and pray the pilot remembers where you are. A guide here isn’t just a map-reader; they’re the person who knows how to not get eaten by a grizzly while you’re trying to poop in a hole.
The tundra in Wrangell-St. Elias is like walking on a thousand wet sponges.
I tracked my pace on a guided trip there last year. We did 4.2 miles in eight hours. That’s the reality. If I had been alone, I would have probably sat down and cried by hour three. Just hire the guide.
I might be wrong about this, but the Grand Canyon is a skip
I know people will disagree. I know it’s on everyone’s bucket list. But honestly? Backpacking the Grand Canyon is kind of a miserable slog. It’s crowded, it’s dusty, and it’s basically just a giant staircase. If you’re going to pay for a guide in the Southwest, go to the Escalante in Utah instead.
I took a trip with Southern Utah Guiding a couple of years back. We spent three days in Neon Canyon and the Golden Cathedral. It was technical, weird, and we didn’t see another human soul. What I mean is—actually, let me put it differently. The Grand Canyon is a monument you look at; the Escalante is a playground you get lost in.
Also, a hot take: I wear a 100% cotton t-shirt when I’m in the Utah desert. Everyone says “cotton kills,” but when it’s 105 degrees and the humidity is 4%, a wet cotton shirt is the only thing that keeps your core temp from spiking. I’ve had guides tell me I’m crazy, but I’ve tested my heart rate—it stays 10-15 beats lower when I’m in damp cotton versus that fancy moisture-wicking synthetic stuff that just turns into a plastic sweat-bag. Don’t do it in the mountains, obviously. But in the desert? Cotton is king.
The REI “experience” is kind of a scam
Look, I love REI for my dividends, but I refuse to recommend their guided trips. They are the corporate HR department of the woods. Everything is sanitized. The food is “safe.” The guides are often restricted by so many corporate safety protocols that you never actually feel like you’re in the wild. You’re in a managed outdoor simulation.
If you want to actually learn something, go with Andrew Skurka Adventures. It’s not a vacation. It’s a literal school. He’ll make you calculate your caloric burn and weigh your gear down to the gram. I went from a 42-lb base weight to 19-lbs after one of his planning clinics. It’s brutal, and he can be a bit of a drill sergeant, but you’ll come out of it actually knowing how to survive.
- Wildland Trekking: Good for families, but too much hand-holding for my taste.
- Lasting Adventures: The only way to do Yosemite without losing your mind in the traffic.
- Alpine Ascents: For when you want to stop hiking and start actually climbing things.
The part about the money
These trips aren’t cheap. You’re looking at $1,800 to $3,500 for a solid 5-day excursion. That’s a lot of money for the privilege of sleeping on the ground and not showering. But here is the thing I’ve realized as I’ve gotten older and my knees have started making that weird clicking sound: I’m not paying for the gear. I’m paying for the lack of stress.
I spent years planning my own routes, obsessing over topo maps, and worrying about water sources. Now? I like the feeling of showing up, being told where to walk, and having someone else worry about the logistics. It’s the only time my brain actually shuts up.
Is it worth every penny? For me, yes. For you? Maybe not if you’re 22 and have more time than money. But if you have a job and only two weeks of PTO, don’t waste it eating cold oats in a rainstorm because you were too proud to ask for help.
I still wonder sometimes if I’m losing my edge by letting someone else lead the way. Does it count if you didn’t suffer through the planning? I don’t know. I’m still trying to figure that out.
Just go to Alaska. Seriously.
