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I’ll be hiking the 400 miles of the Oregon Coast Trail north to south. This will keep the summer winds at my back rather than a headwind of sand in my face. I’m hoping to hike it in roughly five sections, but section hikes take the time they take.
Before I moved back to Oregon more than two years ago, I was living in eastern Tennessee close to Great Smoky Mountains National Park — and I was on a mission. Week by week, month by month, I worked on hiking every trail within the park’s boundary, about 900 miles of them. Though I didn’t realize it at the time, it was the start of my life as a section hiker.
When you hear the phrase “section hiking,” you might picture a long national scenic trail like the Pacific Crest Trail or the Appalachian Trail. Section hikers complete these routes in pieces over time rather than attempting a single, continuous hike the entire way through.
The main appeal is practical: You don’t need to take months away from work or daily life to experience these iconic trails. But section hiking also invites a different relationship with the trail. Without the pressure to push big miles, you might linger beside an alpine lake, hike shorter days or stay an extra night just to watch the stars.
For me, section hiking is about getting to know a place intimately — prioritizing the experience and a connection to the landscape over the goal of completion. And while the term is often reserved for point-to-point trails stretching hundreds or thousands of miles, it’s not about length. Whether you’re summiting high peaks in the Cascades, exploring the trails right here in town, or visiting every Lane County park, you are a section hiker developing a relationship with a space.
The Smokies weren’t my idea. They wouldn’t have been my first choice of places to land. But as a backcountry fisherman once told me in the Everglades, “Love will make you do all sorts of things.” Shortly after I moved there, a breakup and the pandemic left me feeling adrift in unfamiliar terrain.
So I bought a trail map of the park, taped it to my new apartment’s door and started walking. Each time I finished a trail, I came home and traced it with a magenta marker. At first, I thought I’d hike as fast as possible, finish every trail in a year, then flee Tennessee and never look back.
Instead, my section hike took nearly three years, exactly the amount of time it needed to.
That long-term project completely changed how I connected with the region. I learned its layered history and Indigenous cultures. I memorized the names of spring ephemerals and early-autumn blooms. I listened to wood thrushes and scarlet tanagers sing in the canopy. Along the way, I met hikers and community members who became dear friends and walked beside me as I healed my heart and figured out my next chapter.
When I hiked my final trail in the Smokies, they were there, holding their trekking poles aloft to form an aisle for my last steps on the map. By then, the Smokies felt like a soulmate. I had rested at its foggy blue overlooks, forded its rocky streams, slept beneath tulip poplars and eastern hemlocks, and scratched my legs on summer greenbriar.
After finishing my Great Smoky Mountains section hike, I knew where I wanted to go next: back to Eugene. Since graduating from the University of Oregon, I had lived everywhere from the Midwest to the East Coast to the South. While I had visited Eugene over the years, I hadn’t spent extended time here since I was an undergraduate.
I was thrilled to return to the West Coast after more than a decade away. But once I arrived, I found myself overwhelmed by the sheer abundance of outdoor options. I bounced from park to park, unsure where to begin, without the sense of connection I’d found in the Smokies.
Then, I returned to my section-hiker roots. I chose a few places I wanted to know deeply — areas where I could, in my own time, hike every peak, valley and plateau.
As someone who was born and raised on the far northern California coast, I’ve always been pulled toward the ocean. One of the things I love about living in the Eugene area is its easy access to rugged shorelines and majestic coastal forests. Over the last year, I’ve become increasingly smitten with Oregon’s seaside towns, ecology and lore, and have wanted to root in further, become good friends with the landscape.
So, this May, I’ll be starting a section-hiking adventure I’m particularly excited about: the Oregon Coast Trail. The trail runs about 400 miles from the South Jetty of the Columbia River near Astoria to the California border just south of Brookings. While I’m hoping to finish it by the summer’s end, I also know that section hikes take the time they take. Various combinations of available paid time off, weather conditions, logistics and personal life can affect even the best-laid plans.
Right now, I’m deep in local author Bonnie Henderson’s book, “Hiking the Oregon Coast Trail: 400 Miles From the Columbia River to California.” Her wisdom from her own years of section hiking the trail has already helped me with one key decision: I’ll be hiking the trail north to south.
This will keep the prevailing summer winds at my back rather than a headwind of sand in my face. I’m hoping to hike it in roughly five sections, some solo and some with friends. As the trail passes through many towns along the way, I plan to enjoy a mix of camping and inn-hopping, community and nature.
I’ll plan to check in with Lookout readers again on the other side. I hope these stories and practical tips become an invitation to explore this beautiful place we call home, together, and that, step by step, we’ll find a deeper connection to the greater Eugene-Springfield region.
And maybe you’ll be inspired to choose a section hike of your own, whether something the magnitude of the Oregon Coast Trail or the dozens of miles in Thurston Hills Natural Area or the Ridgeline Trail system. Whether you’re someone who just likes to take a walk, or someone who enjoys trekking deep into the backcountry, you too can embrace the life of a section hiker.
