Back in 2004, after I turned 50, I began to worry about my age and what it meant for my physical ability. In 2007 John and I traveled to Tanzania with REI Adventures for a trek up Mount Kilimanjaro. When we met the others on our tour, I immediately noticed that we were the oldest in the group. I was 53 and John was 54. He was more physically fit than I was, and I feared I would trail far behind everyone else. But for the first four days, I held my own. Sometimes I was even in the lead.
On the fourth night we slept only a few hours at Kibo Hut, situated at 15,430 feet. We planned to get up at 10 PM, eat something, and begin our final push to the summit. Mount Kilimanjaro is 19,341 feet, so we had nearly 4,000 feet to gain over about three miles. Our group left Kibo around midnight and started up the steep, scree-covered trail.
When hiking at night, one’s world becomes small. The only thing that exists is what is illuminated by one’s headlamp. We felt the intense cold and the difficulty of getting enough oxygen as we climbed higher. I lost track of the others, so I didn’t know how my progress compared to theirs. John and I continued toward the summit through the night.
When the sky finally started to lighten, we could get our bearings. The only person from our group we could see was Kevin, the most physically fit, and we were right behind him. John stopped to wait for our guide, Peter, who was carrying John’s pack. He wanted to retrieve his camera from it. I kept trudging along behind Kevin. Then Kevin began to feel sick and stepped off the trail.
I was surprised to find myself alone as I continued. Rather than bringing up the rear as I had feared, I reached the summit first. I was shocked. I was tougher than I had thought. Being the oldest woman in the group had not kept me from holding my own. I learned that I didn’t have to define myself by my age.
Since that trip, we have done extensive backpacking both in the U.S. and abroad. You can see our list of trips here. In 2011 we did the 211-mile-long John Muir Trail including summiting Mount Whitney (14,505 feet). John was 58 and I was 57. In 2018 we backpacked the 500 miles of the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT) through Washington. John was 65 and I was 64. In 2024 John backpacked all 800 miles of the Arizona Trail (I was laid up with plantar fasciitis). He was 71. In 2025 we did a 250-mile trip through the Sierra. John was 72 and I was 71.
We have not been without medical challenges. John’s biggest was his 2018 diagnosis of polycythemia vera, a type of blood cancer. It is currently controlled by daily oral chemotherapy. For me, it was aortic valve regurgitation. I began having symptoms in 2021, and my heart compensated for as long as it could. In 2025 I had open-heart surgery to replace my aortic valve. There have been other illnesses and injuries, but despite these challenges, we are both still backpacking.
Rather than dread the passing of every year, I have truly celebrated every birthday.
In 2008 we were on a trek up the Khumbu Valley in Nepal on my 54th birthday.
In 2013 we were backpacking on the west Tonto Trail in Grand Canyon National Park on my 59th.
In 2015 we were backpacking down South Canyon in Grand Canyon National Park and John surprised me with cupcakes to celebrate my 61st birthday.
In 2026 we backpacked the PCT from Kennedy Meadows to Cottonwood Pass. Although Kennedy Meadows is referred to as the Gateway to the Sierra, this section lacks the dramatic mountain views the Sierra Nevada is known for. The sights that stayed with us most were the trees beside the trail. We loved the sequoias.
While we certainly enjoy seeing lush and healthy green trees …
… on this trip, the ones that stood out had weathered fire, strong winds, and heavy snows.
I found that I identified with these trees. Like them, despite the years I have seen and the insults my body has endured, I am still growing. We both are!
As a kid, I loved to be outdoors. As a younger adult, I didn’t have as many opportunities as I wanted. Now, as a retiree, I have more freedom to explore, and the natural world is my playground.
I can go exploring.
I can splash in a creek, …
… and play in water as much as I want.
I can even go skinny dipping.
I can play in the snow.
I can climb on rocks …
… although there might be times when I need someone to give me a hand …
… or loan me the use of a different body part.
And I might want somebody to catch me at the bottom of a slide.
We are not the only ones who enjoy the playground, and it is fun to meet kindred spirits.
I am amused by my 53-year-old self who thought she was old. I am now nearly twenty years older than she was, and there is still so much I want to do. Age has brought real challenges, but it has also brought experience and a better understanding of what I am capable of. Since that climb up Mount Kilimanjaro, I have learned that age alone doesn’t tell me what is possible. Like those weathered trees, I’m still going! I’m still growing!
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