On May 21st, 2025, I set out to backpack the full Lone Star Hiking Trail in Texas. At 96 miles long, it’s the state’s longest continuous footpath, winding through Sam Houston National Forest with dense trees, boardwalks, and (supposedly) scattered water sources. I had mapped out my mileage, packed my food, triple-checked my gear, and mentally prepared to be alone in the woods for a week.

I made it three days.
And I’m still proud of that.

Summary without the story

This is going to be a bit of an emotional story, so if you’re just here to find out what I did and why I didn’t finish, here’s the TLDR;

• Trail Name: Lone Star Hiking Trail
• Distance Completed: 45.7 miles
• Dates on Trail: May 21–24, 2025
• Start Point: Western Terminus – Trailhead #1
• Conditions: 90s+ temps, low water availability, high humidity
• Reason I Left: Heat exhaustion, dehydration risk, and developed full-body heat rash

*For more photos and more in-depth storytelling, read each individual blog post.

Day 1 on the Lone Star Trail: Enthusiastic, Hopeful, and Sweaty

After two years of trying and failing to make this hike happen—from breaking my toe on a beach trip, to storm damage, to literally having a forest fire shut down the trail hours before I was supposed to leave—it finally happened. My boots hit the dirt at Trailhead #1 in Richards, TX, and I couldn’t stop smiling. I was practically glowing, taking pictures of everything and soaking up every second. The trail greeted me with towering trees and a forest floor glowing green with ferns. The build-up of anticipation for this hike finally came out of me in an almost intoxicating burst.

Although still beaming, by mile three, the heat and humidity were already brutal. I was sweating through my clothes and following a dry riverbed that made me nervous about the water situation ahead. The terrain was more rugged than I expected, with steep dips at dry river crossings that forced me to climb up and down with my heavy pack. I took my first break between miles 4–5, letting my feet breathe and trying to cool my overheated body.

Around miles 6–9, I pushed through thorn-covered raspberry bushes and managed to snag a few berries, but not without getting scratched up along the way. After mile 9, I realized I likely wouldn’t make it to camp before sundown. That added a layer of stress, especially being low on water and carrying a full pack. My body hurt everywhere—shoulders, knees, hips, feet—but I kept reminding myself that the first day is always the hardest. I just had to keep moving.

I reached the road to Kelly’s Pond Campground after 14.2 trail miles and made the 1.1-mile road walk on aching legs. A well-meaning man stopped to chat, but I was so drained and dehydrated I could barely stand to talk. When I finally got to camp, the pond was shallow, buggy, and frustrating to collect water from. But I filtered what I could, set up camp, stretched out my seized-up traps, and fell asleep alone in the Texas woods—exhausted, sweaty, and proud that Day 1 was finally behind me.

Read More: Lone Star Trail Day 1: Starting Strong on a Dream Two Years in the Making

Day 2 on the Lone Star Trail: Still Sweaty, Beautiful Views, and Exhaustion

Day two started early, humid, and buggy. I left camp at Kelly’s Pond Campground low on water and covered in fresh mosquito bites, determined to get back on the trail before the heat set in. It didn’t take long for the sweat to start pouring again. Texas in late May is no joke. By the time I hit the woods, I was already soaked and swatting spider webs with my trekking poles. But despite the discomfort, I loved hearing the birds chirping in the forest and watching the sun rise up in the trees. There’s so much peace in the quiet of the trail.

One of my favorite moments of the day came at Stubblefield Lake. I stopped there for lunch, took my shoes off, and dipped my aching feet into the water while snacking on a tuna packet, a jerky stick, and Nerds Cluster candy. It was the most beautiful spot I’d seen yet—peaceful, still, and exactly what I needed. For a moment, I forgot how tired I was and just felt the joy of being out there.

But don’t let that serenity fool you—this day was also heart-attack inducing. Not once, but twice, I was scared so bad I physically jumped back. You’ll have to read my Day 2 post to find out what happened. Trust me, you’ll want to.

The final stretch of the day was a physical battle. I hit mile 28 completely spent, with swollen knees and sore feet, only to face a long, exposed road walk under the blazing sun. But the reward was sweet. I rolled into West Huntsville Camp, a charming little one-tent site with a welcome mailbox, a pond, and just enough comfort to feel like a trail angel had set it up for me. I filtered water, cooked dinner, stretched under the stars, and drifted off to sleep feeling safe, proud, and wildly alive.

Read More: Lone Star Trail Day 2: Sweat, Snakes, and a Starry Sky

Day 3 on the Lone Star Trail: Road walks, a Ray of Sunshine, and a Rash

I woke up at West Huntsville Camp feeling surprisingly okay—well-rested, not too sore, and genuinely optimistic about the miles ahead. The morning hike was peaceful and familiar, with shaded woods, birdsong, and the much-anticipated Elkins Lake Dam crossing. The vibes were a little confusing—some signs warmly welcomed hikers, while others warned us to stay out—but the views were beautiful, and the crossing itself was smooth. I stopped to refill water, take in the scenery, and feel like I was finally hitting a bit of a groove.

That changed fast. The road walking started, and it didn’t let up. The 2.7-mile stretch through Huntsville was brutally hot, fully exposed, and punishing on my already-blistered feet. Every car that passed sent waves of hot air instead of the cool breeze I hoped for. By lunch, I was overheating, my water was nearly gone, and my tuna packet was way too spicy for the situation I was in. I pushed into the Phelps section with sheer determination, hitting the summit of the trail at 445 feet and scribbling a note into the sweaty trail logbook just to prove I’d made it.

But the toughest miles came later—both physically and mentally. My body began to shut down from heat, exhaustion, and a rash that spread across my legs, chest, and between my cheeks (yes, that kind of rash). I had to stop multiple times, collapsing on the side of the road in the unforgiving sun, seriously wondering if I’d make it to camp at all. Just when I was at my limit, a woman painting her mailbox saved my day with two cold bottles of water, a shaded place to rest, and the kindest trail magic I’d ever experienced. Her generosity carried me through the final half mile to camp, joined by a sweet local dog named Puka who stayed by my side.

Four Notch Camp had no water and a porta-potty that could knock you out, but I made it. I cleaned up, tried to air out my rash, and reached out to a few contacts in case I needed to leave the trail the next morning. Day 3 tested every part of me—but somehow, I was still standing.

Read More: Lone Star Trail Day 3: Road walks, a Ray of Sunshine, and a Rash

Day 4 on the Lone Star Trail: Waking up and Calling it Quits

Day 4 on the Lone Star Trail started with a tough but necessary decision—I chose to end my hike. Though my rash had improved overnight, I knew the moment I put my damp, sweaty clothes back on and stepped into the Texas heat, it would come right back. With no reliable bailout point for the next 15 miles, I listened to my body and called for a pickup.

As I waited, I let myself fully absorb the beauty of solo camping one last time. The stillness of the woods, the calls of the birds, and the morning sky reminded me why I love being out there. When my boyfriend arrived, emotions hit hard. I’d spent years preparing for this hike—training, planning, dialing in my gear. Leaving at mile 45, just shy of the halfway mark, felt like walking away from a dream.

But in the end, I made the right call. Long-distance hiking demands deep self-awareness, and pushing forward would have meant unnecessary suffering. I chose to respect my limits and protect my body, even when it meant walking away from a goal I’d worked so hard for. That decision, in itself, was its own kind of triumph.

I may not have finished all 96 miles, but I’m leaving the trail proud. I hiked through intense heat, stretched past my comfort zone, and soaked in small moments of magic along the way. One day, I’ll return—stronger, wiser, and hopefully with cooler weather. Until then, you can read the full Day 4 post for the full story behind this emotional pivot.

Read More: Lone Star Trail Day 4: Hard Choices and Heading Home