Where I live in Colorado, I spend a lot of time on trails solo, often with my dogs. I’m Deaf, which means I move through the outdoors differently. Safety isn’t just about bear spray or backup batteries—although those help, too—it’s about planning three steps ahead, listening with my eyes, and trusting my gut when something feels off.
Yes, independence is cool. But safety, preparation, and communication? Even cooler.
My mantra is simple: I’d rather be over-prepared than under-prepared. Every hike or run starts with that in mind.
Pink isn’t a fashion statement. It’s a visibility tactic. When everything around you is green, brown, or blue, a hot pink jacket practically glows from space. If I ever needed to be found, a rescue chopper wouldn’t have to squint, and hunters will never confuse me with an elk. High-contrast colors are my insurance policy.
When I’m out there, my two dogs are my second set of senses. One’s my right ear, the other’s my left. We move together. They listen for me. I watch for them. It’s like our secret language.
Bear spray? Nice. But I’m more worried about Chad. I carry pepper spray, a whistle, and a knife. They’re not for bears but rather weirdos. When you’re a woman out here, situational awareness becomes your endurance sport. I’m not scared; I’m realistic.
If you’ve ever lost service in the mountains, you know that split second of panic. My Garmin InReach doesn’t rely on towers. It switches to satellite mode so I can message my point of contact or hit SOS if something goes wrong. People think independence means going off-grid. I think it means knowing how to get back on when things go sideways.
Colorado’s weather changes faster than a TikTok trend. One minute it’s sunny, the next it’s sideways snow. My pack always includes a poncho, an emergency blanket, hand warmers, and a power bank. Cold drains phone batteries fast, and having layers ready can make the difference between discomfort and danger.
A mirror might be the most underrated thing in my pack. With the right light, it can flash a signal for help from miles away. Pair it with a whistle, and you’ve got tools that don’t need Wi-Fi or battery bars. Sometimes, the best backup plan is old-school and shiny.
Trail solo-ing while Deaf? It’s brave, but also extremely well-researched. Before I head out, I drop a pin. I text my route, ETA, plate number, and trail snack (for ID purposes, obviously). People might think safety ruins the fun. But for me, it’s what makes the fun possible.