Around 11:30 a.m., my boots finally hit the dirt at Trailhead #1 in Richards, Texas for my official Day 1 on the Lone Star Trail. After over two years of dreaming, detouring, and delays, I was finally on the trail. I was absolutely beaming—grinning from ear to ear, stopping to snap pictures of every fern, tree, and bend in the trail. Mother Nature was showing off, and I was just so happy to be out there existing in it.

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Read More: My Complete Packing List for a Lone Star Trail Thru-Hike

This hike had been a long time coming. I first planned it for February 2024, but broke my big toe playing soccer on a beach trip (brutal timing). Then, in November 2024, massive storms shut down parts of the trail due to blowdowns and flooding. I tried again in February 2025, literally packed and ready to go, when I saw a forest fire had sparked up near the trail and was steadily spreading. I decided ‘safety first’ and stayed home. Each time my plans got delayed, it was an emotional roller coaster. So, finally stepping onto the trail felt personal. I was really doing it.

The first few miles were pure bliss. Towering trees shaded the trail, and these wild neon-green ferns blanketed the forest floor like something out of a dream.

But by mile 3, the Texas heat and humidity were already in full swing. I was absolutely drenched—my clothes were soaked, my pack was sticking to me, my headband was drenched, but my spirits were high. I’d been walking along a dried-up riverbed for about two miles, and while it was pretty, it definitely had me eyeing my water stash nervously.

I’d expected a flat trail—everything I’d read said Lone Star was easy terrain. But the river crossings? Steep. Even dry, they demanded some serious ups and downs. Climbing in and out of those creek beds with a full pack was a lot, especially in the heat. I was very thankful for my trekking poles at a few of the crossings.

Read More: Planning a Lone Star Trail Thru-Hike

I took my first real break around mile 5. My body was heating up fast, so I stopped, kicked off my boots, and aired out my feet—anything to prevent blisters this early on. I snacked, sipped, and reminded myself how blessed I was to be out there attempting this hike.

Sometime between miles 6 and 9, the trail took me through a wild patch of overgrown raspberry bushes. They were everywhere. A few ripe berries were worth the grab, but most were tiny and hidden under thick, thorny branches. I couldn’t really avoid them, so I pushed through, getting scratched up along the way. My arms and legs were a mess, but it was still kind of beautiful. I felt so outside, so wild.

By mile 9, the sun was dropping faster than I’d hoped. I realized I probably wouldn’t make it to camp before dark, and that added a layer of stress I hadn’t felt all day. I was prepared to night-hike if needed, but I don’t love it. It’s easy to miss hazards, mistake twigs for snakes, or take a wrong step, and setting up camp in the dark is never ideal. My pack felt heavier than ever, my water was low, and everything—shoulders, hips, knees, and feet were starting to ache. I had to continually replay my mantra “just one foot in front of the other” until I made it to camp. I was completely out of gas.

At 14.2 miles, I stepped out of the woods and onto a rough, stony road—just 1.1 miles left to reach Kelly’s Pond Campground. I was so close. The only thing keeping me moving at that point was the continual reminder that there was water at camp. I was so thirsty.

While walking along the road, a truck slowed down beside me, which made me a bit nervous, but he leaned out and asked if I was hiking the trail. He wanted to share his experience hiking the trail years ago. He was kind, but I was completely spent and had no interest in being an active listener at this point. I stood there trying to smile and nod while silently begging for this conversation to end. As soon as he drove off, I basically speed-shuffled the final stretch.

When I reached camp, I threw up my tent like it was second nature. I was exhausted but proud—I had made it through a seriously tough day. I wiped off with my wilderness wipes (a trail luxury), then walked to the pond to get water. Unfortunately, the mosquitoes were out in full force, and collecting water was a nightmare. I only managed about 8 ounces before giving up and retreating to my tent, itchy and frustrated.

Just a minute or two after lying down, I noticed my traps had completely seized up. I panicked a little, wondering if I’d even be able to move in the morning. So I got up, did a full-body stretch session, and set an alarm to wake myself up two hours later to do it again. It turned out to be one of the smartest decisions I made on the trail.

That night, I was the only one at the campground. I slept in just my underwear, limbs sprawled out, attempting to cool down. Despite everything—the heat, the thorns, the pack weight, and the lack of water stress—I fell asleep thankful for this opportunity.

Lone Star Trail Day 1 complete.

If you prefer to watch vs. read – Here’s my Youtube Recap