Walking the GR5 in 70 Days: The Numbers, Challenges and Lessons from My 2,200km Adventure
From Hoek van Holland to Nice, crossing the Netherlands, Belgium, Luxembourg, Switzerland and France. Seventy days of walking, wild camping, mountain views, hard kilometres and plenty of lessons along the way.
On 20 July 2026, I set off from Hoek van Holland to walk the GR5, a long-distance trail that would take me all the way through Europe to Nice in the south of France.
My plan was to cover approximately 2,200km in 70 days, averaging around 31km a day. I wanted a big physical challenge, an opportunity to spend time in nature, and the chance to document a women's fastest known time (FKT) attempt on the full route.
On 27 September, I finished in Nice.
Seventy days of walking. Thousands of kilometres. Hundreds of hours on my feet. And a whole lot of time spent in my own company.
Since finishing, I've been sharing photographs, videos and daily updates from the trail. I've also received so many brilliant questions from the Tough Girl Tribe about everything from training and kit to wild camping, food, costs and how I kept myself motivated.
So, I recorded a GR5 solo reflections episode of the Tough Girl Podcast to talk through the experience in more detail.
In this blog post, I'm sharing some of the key numbers, what the trail was really like, how I prepared, how much it cost and the lessons I'm taking away from the experience.
Why the GR5?
If you've followed my adventures for a while, you'll know that I love a big challenge.
Before turning 32, I had a relatively conventional life. I graduated, moved to London and spent around eight years working in banking and private banking. Eventually, I became burnt out and knew I needed to make a change.
After leaving my job, I spent time travelling, went on a ski season, climbed Kilimanjaro and backpacked around South America. That period gave me the space to think about what I wanted from life and how I wanted to spend my time.
It also helped lead me towards creating Tough Girl Challenges and launching the Tough Girl Podcast in 2015.
The podcast exists to motivate and inspire women through the stories of other women doing adventures and challenges, while increasing the number of female role models in the media.
But if I'm talking the talk, I also want to walk the walk.
Since 2016, I've taken on a variety of personal challenges, including the Marathon des Sables, the Appalachian Trail, cycling down the Pacific Coast Highway and the Baja Divide, numerous long-distance trails and, in 2025, the GR10 across the French Pyrenees.
The GR10 was a huge adventure, and I loved being in the mountains. With the Tough Girl Podcast celebrating its tenth anniversary in 2025, it felt like the right challenge for that milestone.
For 2026, I wanted something different.
I knew I would have a window of time available from 20 July, but I couldn't disappear for three months. I wanted a substantial challenge that would fit into the time I had.
The GR5 seemed to tick all the boxes.
At approximately 2,200km, it was long enough to get my teeth into. I could travel to the start by train, rather than needing to fly halfway around the world, and the route offered the opportunity to finish in Nice.
I also knew that the trail would be a challenge of two very different halves.
The first section through the Netherlands and Belgium is relatively flat, with considerable road and hard-surface walking. The second half, through Switzerland and France, takes you into the mountains.
I knew I would find the mountain sections more enjoyable, but I wanted to challenge myself to embrace the whole route rather than just choosing the sections I liked best.
I also discovered that there were no recorded women's entries for the full route on the Fastest Known Time website when I was researching the trail. That presented another opportunity to document a women's achievement and hopefully encourage other women to record their own adventures.
The FKT was an additional motivation, but it wasn't the only reason I was going.
I wanted to walk the GR5. I wanted to put in the work. And I wanted to see what I could achieve in 70 days.
How I trained for the GR5
Training for a long-distance hike isn't just about being able to walk a long way once. It's about building the ability to keep walking day after day, carrying a backpack, while managing fatigue and recovering sufficiently to do it all again.
At the beginning of the year, I was juggling several commitments, including college, part-time work and regular gym sessions. I needed a training plan that fitted around my existing life.
I used ChatGPT to help build a structured programme around my commitments, available time, starting fitness and the demands of the trail. I then adapted the plan based on my experience, how my body was responding and the training I was already doing.
My preparation included:
Long endurance walks: gradually increasing the time I spent on my feet.
Back-to-back walking days: practising walking for several hours on consecutive days.
Weighted backpack training: gradually increasing the load I carried.
Strength training: working on single-leg strength, my posterior chain and back strength to help manage the demands of carrying a pack.
Incline treadmill sessions: building familiarity with sustained uphill walking.
Mobility and ankle work: giving extra attention to areas where I wanted to build strength and resilience.
Recovery: incorporating recovery sessions and lighter periods into the programme.
One of the most useful parts of my training was the incline treadmill work.
When I was out in the mountains, there were moments when I reached a sustained incline and my brain almost seemed to recognise it. I'd done this before. I knew what I was doing. I could settle into the climb and keep moving.
I also made use of the local coastal paths around the Wirral. These gave me opportunities to practise walking on hard surfaces, which I knew would be a significant part of the early GR5.
Sometimes I'd finish a full day at college and then walk home, adding several hours on my feet when I was already tired.
Those sessions weren't always easy, but they were useful preparation for the reality of the trail.
I printed out my training plan and tracked my sessions, making adjustments when necessary. By the time I left for the GR5, I had completed approximately 89% of my planned training.
For me, having a structured plan made a real difference. I could see what I needed to do, tick sessions off and monitor how I was progressing.
The aim wasn't to arrive at the start line completely exhausted from training. It was to arrive healthy, confident and ready to build into the challenge.
The GR5 by numbers
I
love the numbers from a long-distance adventure. When I'm researching a trail, I want to know how far someone walked, how much climbing was involved, how long it took and what it cost.
I track this information throughout my own adventures so that I can share it afterwards.
Here are some of the key figures from my GR5 journey.
Statistic | My GR5 adventure |
Total duration | 70 days |
Total distance recorded | 2,141km |
Distance in miles | 1,333 miles |
Average daily distance | Approximately 31km / 19 miles |
Total steps | 2,757,161 |
Average daily steps | Just under 40,000 |
Total ascent | 66,895m |
Total descent | 66,826m |
Biggest ascent in one day | 2,282m |
Biggest descent in one day | 2,334m |
Total expenditure, including travel | £2,682 |
Average daily cost, including travel | Approximately £38 |
The total distance recorded on my tracking is slightly different from the approximate 2,200km route distance commonly used when describing the GR5.
And while the daily average gives a useful overview, the reality was that some days were much harder than others. The terrain, weather, elevation and availability of places to stay all influenced how each day unfolded.
My biggest climbing day came on day 55, when I gained 2,282m of elevation. My biggest descent was on the final approach to Nice, when I descended 2,334m.
Those numbers give you a sense of the physical demands of the second half of the trail.
What was the GR5 actually like?
One of the things I wanted to test was whether I could mentally prepare myself for a trail that included a lot of road walking.
I'd previously walked the Te Araroa in New Zealand, and the amount of road walking on that adventure had been a real challenge for me. I found some of it frustrating and difficult to enjoy.
With the GR5, I knew in advance that the first section would involve a lot of hard surfaces and relatively flat terrain.
That knowledge helped.
I wasn't expecting every day to be beautiful mountain hiking, and I wasn't surprised when the early stages felt repetitive.
The walking through the Netherlands and Belgium was often hard on my feet and joints, but it was also an opportunity to practise patience and keep moving towards the mountains.
It reminded me that not every part of an adventure has to be your favourite part.
Sometimes you need to put in the work to get to where you want to be.
The route gradually changed as I progressed through the different countries. The terrain became hillier, and eventually I reached the mountains of Switzerland and France.
And that was where the experience really came alive for me.
The mountain views were phenomenal. The Alpine lakes were incredible, with turquoise water unlike anything I'd seen before. There were mountain passes, wildlife, dramatic valleys and long stretches of walking through beautiful landscapes.
One of my favourite sections was around the route towards Chamonix, looking down into the valley.
Those are the moments that stay with you. The moments when you look around and think, I'm incredibly lucky to be here.
The GR5 wasn't a technically difficult trail in the same way as some more demanding mountain routes, but the distance, daily mileage and cumulative elevation made it a substantial challenge.
And the hard-surface walking at the beginning certainly had its own demands.
The weather: heat, rain and one very memorable thunderstorm
Overall, I was incredibly fortunate with the weather.
There were heatwaves during the early stages, and the heat could be brutal. Walking long distances in high temperatures meant paying attention to water, electrolytes and how I was feeling.
I would much rather deal with heat than be cold, but that doesn't mean the conditions were easy.
Later in the journey, I had a day of torrential rain that forced me to change my plans and find accommodation earlier than expected.
And then there was the thunderstorm.
I was wild camping, lying inside my tent as lightning lit up the sky and the wind battered the fabric around me.
I remember repeatedly telling myself, "I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine."
I'd anticipated the storm and chosen a more sheltered place to pitch my tent, but it was still frightening to be out there with only a thin layer of fabric between me and the elements.
It's a good reminder that even when you have experience, outdoor adventures can still make you feel vulnerable.
You can prepare, make sensible decisions and carry appropriate equipment, but you cannot control the weather.
How much did the GR5 cost?
I spent a total of £2,682 over 70 days, including my travel to the start and home from the finish.
I think it's important to be transparent about the cost of adventures because money can be a significant barrier for people considering a long-distance hike.
Here's the breakdown.
Expense | Total |
Accommodation | £998 |
Food | £1,273 |
Miscellaneous expenses | £145 |
Travel | £265 |
Total | £2,682 |
The figures are rounded, so the individual categories may not add up exactly to the overall total.
Excluding travel, the adventure cost approximately £2,417, or around £35 per day.
For me, the two main costs I can influence are accommodation and food. I enjoy eating, and I don't want to compromise on food simply to save money. Accommodation offers more flexibility, particularly when wild camping is a suitable option.
Where I slept
Over the 70 days, my accommodation looked like this:
56 nights camping
42 nights wild camping
14 nights in a bed
7 stays through Welcome to My Garden
4 hostel stays
The camping total includes the wild camping nights, so these categories overlap.
I was really pleased with how much I was able to camp. Wild camping helps keep costs down, but I also genuinely enjoy it. There's something very satisfying about spending time in nature, waking up outdoors and getting on with the next day.
I used Welcome to My Garden, a network where members can contact people offering space in their gardens to camp. It was particularly useful during the more urban early stages of the GR5, when finding a suitable place to wild camp could be difficult.
The annual membership cost €36, and I stayed in seven different gardens.
Not every night was cheap, though. Campsite prices varied considerably, and I sometimes had to pay more than I would have liked for a small patch of ground to pitch my tent.
My most expensive accommodation night was £87 for a hotel, including breakfast and my own bathroom. After spending so much time outdoors, those nights in a proper bed could be a welcome change.
I also had two extended stretches of wild camping: one lasting 14 days and another lasting 12 days.
That meant going without a conventional shower for long periods, but it was something I was comfortable with. I've been camping and wild camping for years, and it's part of the experience I enjoy.
Food on the trail
Food cost me £1,273, averaging approximately £18 per day.
My eating habits on a long-distance hike are very different from how I eat at home.
When I'm walking all day, I'm hungry. I want energy, quick carbohydrates, salty snacks, chocolate, crisps and whatever else appeals to me. I also look for protein drinks and yoghurts when they're available.
I don't approach food on the trail with the same priorities as I do in everyday life. I eat to fuel the walking, and I don't deprive myself of food because I'm trying to keep costs down.
There were times when I struggled with food fatigue. When you're eating similar things day after day, even foods you normally enjoy can become unappealing.
I also found myself making different choices as the journey progressed, and my diet in the second half was probably better than it had been at the beginning.
Food isn't just fuel, either. It's enjoyment, comfort and something to look forward to after a long day.
I still remember the disappointment of reaching into my bag for a beautiful cookie I'd bought at a bakery in Switzerland, only to discover it wasn't there.
After a big climb, that missing cookie felt like a much bigger deal than it would have done at home!
What I carried: kit and life on the trail
People often ask what you need to carry for a long-distance hike, particularly when you're camping for much of the journey.
My approach is to keep things relatively simple. Every item has a weight, and everything you carry needs to earn its place in your backpack.
For clothing, I kept to a small selection of essentials:
My everyday hiking clothes, including shorts and a T-shirt.
A separate top for sleeping.
A warm layer with a hood.
A down jacket.
A lightweight waterproof jacket.
Hiking socks and warmer socks.
A small number of changes of underwear and other essentials.
I didn't carry lots of spare outfits. I wore the same hiking clothes day after day and washed items when I had the opportunity.
For personal hygiene, I used basic face wipes and sunscreen. I washed my hiking top when I could, including rinsing it in suitable water when I was out on the trail.
You have to adjust your expectations when you're camping for weeks at a time. You aren't going to feel as fresh as you would after a daily shower, and that's part of the experience.
My tent
One of the most frequently asked questions was about my tent.
I used a Terra Nova Laser Compact 2, a tent I've relied on for years.
Because I was camping so frequently, I needed equipment I trusted. The tent had to cope with repeated pitching, changing weather and long stretches of continuous use.
I was particularly pleased with how it performed during the extended periods of wild camping.
Having reliable kit matters, especially when your tent is your home for the night.
Staying connected and managing power
Although I spent much of the journey away from towns, I was still able to share daily updates.
I used my phone and had access to mobile data at various points along the route. I also kept my phone in airplane mode when possible to conserve battery life.
My ZOLEO satellite communicator provided an additional way to send messages and share my location, with an SOS function available in an emergency.
I carried power banks to keep my devices charged and took advantage of opportunities to recharge in accommodation, cafés and other places along the route.
The important thing is not to assume that mobile coverage will always be available. Connectivity can be useful, but it shouldn't replace appropriate navigation, preparation and emergency equipment.
Wild camping as a solo woman
I was comfortable wild camping on the GR5 because I have many years of experience doing it.
That doesn't mean I camp anywhere without thinking about it.
I am selective about where I pitch my tent, and I pay attention to whether a location feels appropriate and safe. I generally prefer to camp well before or after a town rather than close to it.
There was one evening when I found what looked like a suitable place to camp, but something didn't feel right.
I couldn't quite explain it. I simply had a feeling that I should move on.
So I listened to that instinct, packed up my plans for the night and continued walking until I reached a campsite.
It wasn't the most comfortable place I'd ever pitched a tent, but I was happier knowing I'd listened to myself.
Experience helps you become more confident at recognising suitable places to camp, but confidence doesn't mean ignoring your instincts.
If you're new to wild camping, you don't need to push yourself into doing something that makes you uncomfortable. You can build your experience gradually and choose accommodation that works for you.
The mental challenge: keeping on going
One of the questions I received was about staying motivated on the difficult days.
For me, one of the biggest things is remembering why I'm there.
I'm on an adventure. I'm choosing to spend time outdoors, challenge myself and see what I'm capable of. Yes, there will be hard days, but the challenge is part of the experience.
I also find that simply showing up is a huge part of it.
When you're wild camping, you don't need to leave a warm bed in the morning. You're already outside, and you just need to get out of your sleeping bag and start walking.
That doesn't mean every morning is easy, but it removes one of the barriers.
I also remind myself that progress is progress.
You don't always need to see the entire route ahead of you. Sometimes you look at a mountain or a huge distance and wonder how on earth you're going to get there.
But you don't have to complete the whole thing in one go. You need to take the next step, then the next one, and keep moving in the right direction.
I've done enough long-distance adventures to know that the path often becomes clearer as you go.
And I've also learned to be kinder to myself.
When I was younger, I could be very harsh with myself when things weren't going to plan. Now, I try to recognise what I've achieved rather than concentrating only on what I haven't done.
Have I got up? Have I packed my kit? Have I walked the distance? Have I dealt with whatever challenges the day has thrown at me?
Those things count.
If you're planning a long-distance hike, remember that you get to do it on your terms. If you need a rest day, take one. If you need two, take two. Your adventure doesn't have to look like mine.
I enjoy the physical challenge of walking day after day, but that doesn't mean it's the right approach for everyone.
Be kind to yourself. Think about how you would speak to a friend who was having a difficult day, and offer yourself the same kindness.
Did I ever feel lonely?
Yes, occasionally.
I enjoy my own company, and I'm comfortable spending long periods walking alone. In many ways, that's one of the things I love about long-distance hiking: the opportunity to think, decompress and spend time in nature.
But that doesn't mean you never feel lonely.
I didn't meet many other people walking the full GR5 in the direction I was travelling. I met one hiker called Walter during the early section, and after that, there were long stretches when I wasn't sharing the trail with anyone else doing the same journey.
The GR5 is different from trails such as the Camino routes, where you may meet lots of other walkers, stay in shared accommodation and develop a trail community.
On the GR5, particularly when you're wild camping, the experience can be much more solitary.
There were times when I would have enjoyed meeting more people. And although I was prepared for that, it was still something I noticed as the weeks went by.
I stayed connected with family and friends, shared my location and occasionally spoke to people when I needed a bit of conversation.
Sometimes you want solitude. Sometimes you want company. Both can be true.
The highlights and the hardest moments
If you ask me about the best part of the GR5, the answer is easy: the mountains.
The scenery in Switzerland and France was phenomenal. The Alpine lakes, mountain passes and views across the valleys were unforgettable.
The section around Chamonix was a particular highlight, and I would love to return to some of those mountains in the future.
The hardest parts were less about one specific section and more about the cumulative demands of the journey.
The heat at the beginning, the repetitive road walking and the impact of hard surfaces all required patience.
I also had one particularly difficult day, when I woke up expecting an easy downhill section but found that I could barely walk. I felt hot and cold, struggled to keep moving and had to stop frequently to rest.
I couldn't identify exactly what was causing it. It could have been a combination of factors, including fatigue, food, hydration or the conditions.
What I do know is that it was a reminder to pay attention to how you're feeling rather than assuming that every day will go according to plan.
The weather was another factor. I was fortunate overall, but that thunderstorm in my tent was a very different experience from walking through sunshine in the mountains.
Even so, I wouldn't say there was one particular section of the GR5 that I hated. Some days were harder than others, but the whole experience was worthwhile.
How did the GR5 compare with the Camino and the Appalachian Trail?
I've walked several Camino routes, including the Camino Portugués, Camino Francés and Via de la Plata, as well as the Appalachian Trail in the United States.
They offer very different experiences.
The Camino routes tend to be busier and more social. You're often staying in albergues or shared accommodation, meeting people from around the world and having conversations with other walkers.
The Appalachian Trail has its own hiking culture, with a strong community of long-distance hikers and the tradition of trail angels helping people along the way.
The GR5 felt more solitary. I carried my tent, managed my own accommodation and often spent the day walking without meeting another person doing the same route.
Language was another difference. My French is very limited, and communicating in France and Switzerland could sometimes be difficult.
I knew that going into the GR5, so I wasn't expecting to build a trail family or make lots of new friends along the way.
Each trail has its own character, and that's part of what makes walking different routes so interesting.
Did I experience post-adventure blues?
Possibly, particularly when I first arrived in Nice.
After 70 days of having a clear purpose, walking long distances and following a daily routine, suddenly stopping can feel strange.
When you're on a big adventure, so much of your day is structured around moving from one place to another. You wake up, pack your things, walk, find somewhere to stay, eat, sleep and do it all again.
Then, suddenly, that's over.
I can sometimes feel a little lost when that structure disappears.
Coming home and returning to my routines helps. I get back to the gym, see my gym friends, record podcast episodes, edit podcasts and work through the footage from the adventure.
There is also a lot to look forward to in sharing the experience afterwards.
I think it's worth recognising that finishing a challenge can bring mixed emotions. You can be proud of what you've achieved and still feel unsettled when it ends.
Both feelings can exist at the same time.
What would I change if I did it again?
Honestly, I don't think I would change anything major.
The GR5 was an experience I wanted to have, and I'm pleased I committed to walking the full route rather than just choosing the mountain sections.
The first half taught me to accept the parts of an adventure that aren't necessarily my favourite. The second half reminded me why I love being in the mountains so much.
Would I choose another long-distance trail with that much road walking? Probably not, if I had other options.
But I'm glad I did it. I proved to myself that I could manage those sections, even when they weren't particularly enjoyable.
I also came away with a better understanding of what works for me, what I enjoy and what I want from future adventures.
That's one of the reasons I love doing these challenges. Every trail teaches you something.
The GR5 and the women's FKT
One of my motivations for taking on the GR5 was the opportunity to document a women's fastest known time attempt.
I believe women's achievements deserve to be recorded and recognised. When women document what they've done, it gives other women something to look at and think, Maybe I could do that too.
I had submitted my attempt for review, but there were differences between the route I followed and the routes described by the guidebook and navigation resources I used. In particular, there were differences around the starting point in Switzerland and another section of the route.
At the time of recording my reflections episode, I was still waiting for a decision, and I couldn't be certain whether the attempt would be accepted.
I wanted to be open about that rather than claim a record before it had been verified.
Regardless of the outcome, completing the journey was an achievement in its own right.
The FKT was an additional goal, not the only reason I walked the GR5.
I hope that documenting the journey encourages more women to explore the Fastest Known Time website, look at routes in their own areas and consider recording their own achievements.
You don't need to be an elite athlete to take on a challenge. You need to find the challenge that works for you, prepare for it and give yourself the opportunity to see what you can do.
My biggest lessons from 70 days on the GR5
Looking back, there are a few things that stand out.
Preparation makes a difference. Having a structured training plan helped me build endurance, practise with my backpack and arrive at the start feeling confident.
Not every day needs to be amazing. Some days are repetitive, difficult or uncomfortable. You can still make progress on those days.
Keep things simple. I don't need lots of clothes, elaborate meals or a complicated routine to enjoy a long-distance adventure. I need the right essentials and a willingness to adapt.
Listen to yourself. Whether it's changing plans because of the weather, stopping when you're struggling or moving on because a wild camping spot doesn't feel right, it's important to pay attention to what you need.
Progress comes from consistency. A long-distance trail can feel overwhelming when you look at the total distance. Breaking it down into manageable days and individual steps makes it possible.
Be kind to yourself. You don't have to push through every difficulty with a harsh internal voice. Recognise what you're doing well, and remember that your adventure is yours.
Do it your way. My approach to the GR5 involved long days, extensive wild camping and a 70-day target. That doesn't mean you need to do it the same way. You can walk the route more slowly, stay in accommodation, take rest days and make choices that suit your own circumstances.
What's next?
Walking the GR5 was an absolute privilege.
I loved the opportunity to spend so much time outdoors, to challenge myself physically and mentally, and to experience the mountains of Switzerland and France.
There were difficult days, repetitive sections, moments of loneliness and times when I was tired and ready for a rest. But there were also extraordinary views, beautiful places to camp, small moments of enjoyment and the satisfaction of continuing to make progress.
I'm looking forward to sharing more of the journey through the daily statistics, photographs, videos and reflections on the Tough Girl Challenges website.
I'll also be continuing to share stories through the Tough Girl Podcast, where women from all walks of life talk about the adventures and challenges they've taken on.
If you're thinking about a big adventure of your own, I hope there's something here that helps you with your planning, gives you a more realistic picture of life on a long-distance trail, or simply inspires you to take that next step.
You don't have to walk 2,200km. You don't have to wild camp for two weeks. You don't have to set a record.
Find something that excites you. Put in the work. Show up. And see where it takes you.
Wherever you are and whatever you're doing, give it 110%, get after it, go for it and believe in yourself.
Because I believe in you.
Sarah x
Listen to the GR5 Solo Reflections Episode
In this episode of the Tough Girl Podcast, I talk in more detail about walking the GR5, answer questions from the Tough Girl Tribe and share the practical details behind the challenge.
We cover training, kit, accommodation, wild camping, food, costs, motivation, loneliness and what it's like to spend 70 days walking across Europe.
Listen to the episode and follow along with the GR5 journey through Tough Girl Challenges.
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