Backpacking Across the USA to Find Myself: A 6-Month Journey of Rediscovery

I don’t remember the exact moment I stopped feeling alive.

Maybe it was sometime during the monotonous 9-to-5 days that all started to blur together. Maybe it was during the five hardest years of my life—the kind of years that leave invisible scars you don’t even notice until everything feels numb. Or maybe, if I’m being honest, I never truly figured out what happiness even looked like for me.

What I do know is this: I can’t keep living this way.

So I’m choosing to reset my life by backpacking across the lower 48 states of the United States. Not for content. Not for likes. Not even for a bucket list. But to feel again. To heal. To listen to myself. To learn what excites me, scares me, comforts me—and what doesn’t. This is my personal version of pressing Ctrl + Alt + Delete.

This isn’t your typical influencer road trip. There’s no van makeover, no fancy gear haul, and no brand deals waiting on the other side. Just me, a car, a burner stove, a secondhand tent, and a burning need to figure myself out.

Why I’m Backpacking the USA Alone

Before we get into routes, budgets, and gear, let me share why this journey matters to me.

I’m not someone who takes big risks. I’ve played life fairly safe: stable job, rented apartment, minimal chaos. But the price of that safety has been high—emotional burnout, disconnection, a deep longing for something different.

This trip is more than miles—it’s a journey back to myself.

I want to see the redwoods of California, the canyons of Utah, the stillness of Montana’s valleys, and the soulful music in New Orleans. I want to be alone with my thoughts under a starry sky and see who shows up when the noise fades.

This is part healing, part challenge, part spiritual sabbatical.

My Route Across the United States

Like many wanderers, I stumbled upon that viral “perfect USA road trip” map. It traces a loop across the continental U.S. and hits every major region—from small towns in the Midwest to iconic stops like the Grand Canyon and Big Sur.

My route is inspired by it, but it’s more fluid:

• Start: Northeast (New York, Pennsylvania)

• Loop through: The Midwest (Illinois, Minnesota), The South (Tennessee, Texas, Georgia), The Southwest (Arizona, New Mexico), The West Coast (California, Oregon, Washington)

• Return via: The Rockies (Colorado, Utah, Wyoming), The Great Plains (Nebraska, Kansas), and eventually circling back to the East Coast.

I’m skipping Alaska and Hawaii for this leg—but someday, I’ll get there too.

This route gives me exposure to every kind of landscape: coastal cliffs, desert skies, mountain ranges, forests, and farmlands. Every region of the U.S. has something unique to teach me.

How I’ll Travel: Vehicle + Backpack Combo

I initially fantasized about walking the entire way—Forrest Gump-style. But reality had other plans. Instead, I’ll be using a modest vehicle for transport, supplemented by hiking, biking, and public transport when I’m staying in one spot for a while.

This setup gives me flexibility: I can sleep in my car when needed, camp out in national parks, or crash at a budget motel when I need a shower and Wi-Fi.

Where I’ll Sleep

🏕️ Public Campgrounds

These are my top choice—especially national and state parks. They’re affordable, scenic, and usually safe. But they book up fast, especially during peak seasons, so I’m learning to reserve ahead.

🛖 Private Campgrounds

A little more expensive but often with useful extras like showers, laundry, and Wi-Fi. Many even have community areas, which I hope will help balance the solitude.

🛌 Budget Motels + Hostels

Sometimes I’ll need a real bed. I’ve budgeted for 4–5 motel or hostel stays per month. Platforms like Hostelworld and Booking.com will be my go-to for last-minute deals.

🛋️ Friends’ Couches or Couchsurfing

I’ve reached out to old friends, friends of friends, and online communities to find the occasional couch. It’s not just about saving money—it’s about connection.

What I’ll Eat on the Road

Food is both a comfort and a budgeting challenge.

I’ve got a single burner stove, a set of collapsible cookware, and a cooler in the backseat. My food strategy:

• Breakfast: Oats, fruit, coffee

• Lunch: PB&J, canned soup, instant noodles

• Dinner: Pasta, rice with beans, stir-fries when I can

• Snacks: Trail mix, jerky, apples, granola bars

I’m allocating $200–$300 per month on groceries. It’s not fancy, but it’s enough to stay full and functional. Every once in a while, I’ll splurge on a local dish—because food is part of the journey, too.

Budget Breakdown for 6–8 Months

Here’s my rough cost estimate for the trip:

To prepare, I’m aggressively saving and cutting back on unnecessary spending. That Netflix subscription? Gone. Eating out? Rare. Every dollar now is a moment of freedom later.

When I’ll Travel (and Why It Matters)

Timing this trip is crucial—not just for the weather but for my own safety and sanity.

Here’s my plan:

• Summer (June–August): Northern states—think Oregon, Montana, Michigan. Perfect for camping and avoiding extreme heat.

• Fall (September–November): The West and Southwest. Ideal for hiking and desert views without the summer scorch.

• Winter (December–February): The South. Think Texas, Florida, Louisiana. No snow camping for me.

• Spring (March–May): Wrapping up in the Mid-Atlantic and East Coast.

By mapping my route around seasonal patterns, I can enjoy the outdoors without frying or freezing.

Emotional & Mental Preparation

The hardest part of this trip isn’t the budget. It’s the emotional weight I’m carrying into it.

This isn’t a vacation—it’s a pilgrimage. I want to confront the versions of myself I’ve buried under responsibility, trauma, and fear. I want to understand what it means to feel free, even if I have no idea what comes after this.

I know there will be loneliness. There will be moments when I want to quit, drive home, and sleep in my bed. But I also know there will be magic—unexpected conversations, breathtaking sunrises, and quiet moments that shift something deep inside me.

What I Hope to Find

I’m not sure I’ll come back with answers. But I’m hoping to return with:

• A stronger sense of self

• Peace with my past

• A rekindled joy for life

• A deeper appreciation for solitude and silence

• New friends from places I never imagined going

Your Stories Welcome

If you’ve ever done something like this—solo traveled the USA, took a sabbatical to find yourself, or lived out of a car for months—I want to hear your story.

• What helped you through the tough days?

• What gear or apps did you swear by?

• What changed about you by the end?

Drop your thoughts in the comments. Let’s build a space where people chasing clarity can find each other.

Backpacking across the USA is more than a road trip—it’s a radical act of reclaiming my time, my energy, and my story.

I don’t have it all figured out. But I’m going anyway.

So here’s to the road. To dirt paths and diner booths, rainstorms and red rock canyons. Here’s to sleeping under stars and waking up not knowing what the day will bring—but feeling excited to find out.

Because sometimes, the only way to find yourself… is to get completely lost.

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