When I started hiking with my dog, I thought I just needed a leash and some water. Three years later, I know better. Here’s what I wish someone had told me before our first real trail.

Your Dog’s Fitness Is Not Your Fitness

My first mistake: assuming my dog could handle any hike I could. He’s a dog! Dogs are supposed to be athletic!

Reality check: Rocky was a couch potato before we started hiking. His “exercise” was a 20-minute neighborhood walk. When I took him on a 6-mile hike with 1,500 feet of elevation gain, he was destroyed. Limping the last mile. Exhausted for two days after.

The rule I use now: If your dog’s regular exercise is a 30-minute walk, their first hike should be 30-40 minutes on easy terrain. Build up from there over weeks, not days.

Dogs don’t tell you they’re tired until they’re really tired. Watch for:

• Lagging behind (unusual for most dogs)
• Excessive panting that doesn’t stop when you rest
• Lying down and not wanting to get up
• Limping or favoring a leg

If you see these signs, you’ve already pushed too far.

Paws Are Not Indestructible

Dogs evolved to run on dirt and grass. Modern trails have rocks, gravel, hot pavement, and sharp debris. Their paw pads will toughen up over time, but they need to build calluses gradually.

First few months: Check paws at every water break. Look for cuts, abrasions, or raw spots. If you see pink skin through the pad, you’re done for the day.

Hot pavement rule: If it’s too hot for your palm, it’s too hot for their paws. Early morning or evening hikes in summer.

Consider booties for snow, hot surfaces, or very rocky terrain. Yes, your dog will walk funny at first. They adjust.

Water Is More Complicated Than You Think

Dogs overheat faster than humans. They can’t sweat—they only cool down through panting and their paw pads. On a hot day, your dog might need twice as much water as you expect.

What I carry:

• Collapsible bowl (the fabric kind packs smaller than silicone)
• 0.5L of water per dog per hour in moderate weather
• 1L per hour in hot weather

Stream water: I let Rocky drink from streams in the backcountry, but I’m careful about standing water (giardia, leptospirosis) and agricultural runoff areas. Know your region’s risks.

Signs of dehydration:

• Thick, ropy saliva
• Dry gums that feel tacky
• Skin that doesn’t snap back when pinched
• Lethargy

Leash Rules Exist for Reasons

I get it. Your dog has “good recall.” They’re “friendly.” They’ve “never had a problem.”

Leash rules exist because:

• Wildlife (your dog chasing a deer off a cliff is a real thing that happens)
• Other dogs (who might not be friendly)
• Other people (who might be afraid of dogs or allergic)
• Trail erosion (dogs running off-trail damage fragile ecosystems)

Off-leash areas exist. Use them. Everywhere else, leash up.

I use a 6-foot leash for regular trails and a long line (15-20 feet) when we’re in less crowded areas and I want to give Rocky more freedom without losing control.

Poop. We Need to Talk About Poop.

Pack it out. Every time. No exceptions.

“But it’s biodegradable!” So is the poop from the 500 other dogs who hike this trail yearly. Dog poop concentrations alter soil chemistry, introduce parasites, and contaminate water sources.

What I use:

• Biodegradable poop bags
• A small dry bag clipped to my pack to contain the sealed bag (no smell escape)
• A good attitude about carrying poop for miles

Yes, it’s annoying. Do it anyway.

The Gear That Actually Matters

After trying everything:

Essential:

• Harness (not collar—collars can injure their neck on sudden stops)
• 6-foot leash (hands-free leashes are nice but can be problematic on technical terrain)
• Collapsible water bowl
• Extra water
• Poop bags
• Basic first aid (tweezers for thorns, gauze, vet wrap)

Nice to have:

• Treat pouch for training/rewards
• Cooling bandana for hot days
• Booties for extreme terrain
• Pack for the dog to carry their own supplies (after they’re fit enough)

Skip:

• GPS collars (unless you’re in real wilderness—they’re bulky and most trails are well-marked)
• Fancy “hiking” toys (they get lost, add weight, distract the dog)
• Anything designed to look cute rather than function

Trail Etiquette That Isn’t Obvious

Yield to horses. Step off the trail on the downhill side. Make your dog sit and stay calm. Horses spook easily, and a spooked horse is dangerous.

Yield to uphill hikers. Dogs want to say hi to everyone. Train “let’s go” or “leave it” so you can move aside quickly.

Don’t let your dog approach other dogs without asking. “Is your dog friendly?” before any nose-to-nose contact. Some dogs are reactive, recovering from trauma, or in training.

Keep your dog out of water sources other hikers might drink from. That crystal-clear alpine lake isn’t a dog bath.

Building Trail Skills

Before attempting anything serious, your dog should have solid:

Recall. “Come” means come, every time, even when there’s a squirrel. This takes months to train reliably. Use a long line until it’s solid.

Wait/Stay. For creek crossings, steep sections, wildlife encounters. Your dog needs to stop when you ask.

Leave it. For everything from other dogs to suspicious snacks to porcupines (yes, really).

Loose leash walking. A dog that pulls constantly is exhausting for both of you and dangerous on narrow trails.

Don’t skip training because “they’re just a hiking buddy.” Training keeps everyone safe.

When to Stay Home

Not every dog is a hiking dog. Not every day is a hiking day.

Stay home if:

• It’s above 85°F and you’ll be in direct sun
• Your dog is recovering from injury or illness
• Your dog shows signs of not wanting to go (hesitation at the trailhead, turning back toward the car)
• You can’t commit to carrying enough water
• The terrain is beyond your dog’s current fitness

A bad experience can ruin hiking for your dog. Build positive associations by making early hikes easy wins.

The Long Game

Three years in, Rocky and I have done 12-mile days with 3,000 feet of gain. He’s comfortable on scrambles, unfazed by water crossings, and has better trail manners than most humans.

That didn’t happen overnight. It took hundreds of short, easy hikes building up to longer, harder ones. It took training sessions that were boring but necessary. It took listening when he was tired and turning around early.

The payoff is worth it. Having a trail-confident dog changes what’s possible. But the payoff requires patience at the beginning.

Start slow. Build gradually. Listen to your dog. The mountains will still be there when you’re both ready.

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Rocky is currently asleep in a sunbeam, recovering from yesterday’s 8-miler. The adventure dog life has its downsides.