So You Want to Move to a Trail Town? Here's How to Make It Work.

Whether you’re a casual trekker or diehard thru-hiker, chances are you’ve experienced the near-magical draw of a trail town and been tempted to kick off your shoes and stay awhile. Many hip and funky mountain hubs boast incredible scenery, nifty amenities, unparalleled proximity to amazing routes, and an electric concentration of backpacking and outdoors culture.

“The overwhelming majority of people in our community will go out of their way to make a hiker feel welcome and help them out on their adventure,” says Paul Gadola, who relocated to Damascus, Virginia, after a 2004 AT thru-hike. “Pretty much everyone who lives here is here because they have a deep love and respect for nature, and feel a kinship with people that share those values.”

Like countless trekkers before him, Gadola fell in love with a trail town, dreamed of it for months, then finally took a leap of faith and moved.

But for hikers who decide to move to a trail town, settling in is almost always harder than anticipated, warns Appalachian Trail Conservancy Vice President of Regional and Trail Operations Hawk Metheny. The organization estimates that most trail town transplants who move solely due to considerations around backpacking rarely last more than 18 months. And newcomers that make it past the threshold often still struggle.

“I’ve seen a ton of people come and go over the years,” says Gadola. Trekkers are in the throes of a bucket list experience and it’s easy to get swept up in the magic of a place. But if you move without a significant nest egg or well-paying remote work, “you need to understand it’s going to be tough—and probably stay that way for a good while.”

Yet Gadola is quick to add that, for those who truly want it, achieving their trail hub dream is by no means impossible. Here, he and other longtime transplants share insight around how to not only make the transition, but build a badass life once you’re there.

Pick The Right Spot

It’s easy to fall head-over-heels for a remote mountain town when you’re neck deep in a life-altering adventure like a thru-hike. But it’s important to consider your daily life off the trail.

“Your head’s full of endorphins and you’re seeing the world through a different lens,” says Adam Stanley, owner of Around The Bend Lodge and Stanimal’s 328 Hostels. The 45-year-old has logged more than 10,000 miles on long-distance routes and lived full-time in trail towns since 2010.  “I think if you’re serious about moving and the intent is to put down roots, I’d definitely consider more than just one spot.”

On one hand, Stanley acknowledges access to killer trails and trail culture—not to mention a palpable sense of home—is often the star attraction of trail town living. On the other, he urges would-be transplants to be as pragmatic and honest with themselves as possible.

For instance, how far are you willing to drive to a decent grocery store or big box retailer? Is access to fiber optic internet, quality restaurants, breweries, and entertainment options important to you? Do you have adequate savings or remote work that will help minimize stress and keep you afloat through the transition? What kind of jobs are available in and around the region, and what are potential commutes like?

“I spend most of my time on-trail, so I really enjoy having cool, [metropolitan-type] shit to do when I’m home,” says pro hiker and Mountainsmith sponsored athlete Tom Gathman, aka “The Real Hiking Viking.” Gathman lives in the 20,000-person Denver suburb of Golden, which offers proximity to amazing backyard hikes, small-town-meets-big-city vibes, nearby access to the Continental Divide Trail, and a major airport within an hour’s drive.

Both Gadola and Gathman recommend making a checklist of non-negotiables and doing some homework to narrow down options. Pick two or three finalists then spend a week or so exploring each spot.

“Some of the really small towns are amazing to visit, but the isolation makes it hard to earn a living,” says Stanley. He learned the lesson the hard way in 2010 when he attempted to settle in Wrightwood, California after a 1,300-mile stint on the Pacific Crest Trail. “It’s a beautiful little resort town and I loved being there,” he says. “But I started to miss the greenery of the Blue Ridge Mountains and could never seem to get beyond living paycheck-to-paycheck, so I had to pull the plug and pack it in.”

Maintain a Backpacker Mentality

As a backpacking enthusiast, you’ve crushed countless obstacles, tackled a deluge of logistics, and achieved things that very few people can even fathom. That adaptability will serve you well when making a big life change.

“For instance, the idea of walking through the woods for hundreds of miles sounds insane to about 99 percent of the population,” says Gadola, now 53. And the achievement means something: Chances are, you’ve endured extensive hardship, cultivated a MacGyver-esque ingenuity, and learned to get by with what you have on-hand. “For me,” he says, “the takeaway was that, if I want it bad enough, I can do anything I set my mind to.”

The outlook is crucial when you’re looking to relocate and establish yourself in a trail town.

“Most of these places are rural and have an extremely seasonal economy,” says Gadola. That means you’ll “need to be resourceful to get by. So, having that I’m-going-to-succeed-no-matter-what thru-hiker attitude is a tremendous asset. ”

Be Flexible, Network, and Keep Your Eye on the Prize

You’ve fortified your determination and are ready to make a move—what now? Stanley, Gathman, and Gadola urge newcomers to seize a foothold, then work overtime to integrate into the community.

The process begins with affordable housing. If you’re flying solo, sites like Roommates.com or Facebook Marketplace are great for finding cheap initial digs. It also doesn’t hurt to phone hiker-centric businesses like hostels and ask around.

“Don’t be afraid to knock on real or metaphorical doors,” says Gadola. He found a steal on a sweet rental home in 2006 by asking a local outfitter about leads then leaving a note wedged in a farmhouse door.

Finding work can take a parallel tact. Stanley moved to Waynesboro, Virginia, in 2012 with $300 in his pocket after an injury-shortened AT attempt.

“I had a business degree, but back then there weren’t a lot of opportunities in the immediate area,” he says. “I knew I wanted to stay, so I just got on the hustle and did whatever I needed to do to get by.”

Stanley took odd jobs, bought and resold items from local estate sales, and taught winter ski lessons at nearby Wintergreen Resort. Gadola nabbed a gig as a server at a cafe in a neighboring town, took shifts tending bar wherever possible, and led occasional guided hikes.

“You tread water, network like hell, and jump on whatever opportunities come up,” says Stanley. In his case, it was working with a girlfriend to found a lowkey basement hostel and amend Waynesboro’s near-total lack of a reliable hiker shuttle service. The venture grew exponentially with time and blossomed into a wildly successful business that now includes multiple properties across two states.

“If you’re kind, authentic, and willing to work hard, people will notice and sort of take you under their wing,” says Gadola, who’s sat on the Damascus planning commission and works as a bar and special events manager at The Old Mill Inn and Restaurant. One thing always leads to another, says Gadola, and if you stick with it, next thing you know “it’s smooth sailing and you’re living [your] dream-come-true.”

Cory McCall, co-owner of Franklin, North Carolina’s famed Outdoor 76 outfitter and Rock House Lodge craft beer bar, agrees. His shop routinely employs AT thru-hikers and has at least five on-staff right now.

“In my experience, the vast majority of people who live in a trail town appreciate and want to help out hikers,” he says. And if said hiker has fallen in love with the place and wants to make a life there? According to McCall, “that impulse and willingness to help out is only going to increase.”