What Is an Alpine Divorce? The Hiking Trend That Is Ending Relationships
A phrase originally coined in an 1893 Victorian short story has found new life on TikTok — and it is resonating with a lot of people.
An alpine divorce refers to being abandoned by a romantic partner or friend on a hike or outdoor adventure. One person surges ahead, leaving the other to struggle alone. In many of the stories now circulating online, the hike ends the relationship too.
The term comes from a short story by Scottish-Canadian writer Robert Barr, in which an unhappily married couple travels to the Alps. The husband plans to push his wife off a summit, only for her to reveal she has already framed him for her murder before jumping herself. It was a Victorian thriller. What it has become is something more relatable.
What It Looks Like in Real Life
MJ, 38, a PR professional from Los Angeles, says she experienced an alpine divorce five years ago in Zion National Park. She and a new partner — not yet exclusive — had traveled to Utah for an adventure trip. On the morning of their big hike up Angel's Landing, MJ was not feeling well.
"I could tell it was getting on his nerves that I was slow," she said. "I was like, 'Fuck it, just go ahead of me.'" He did, without hesitation. When she reached the top, they took a photo together. Then he hiked back down with a woman he had met on the trail. MJ finished alone.
They broke up shortly after. When MJ came across the phrase "alpine divorce" on TikTok last month, she recognized her experience immediately.
The Stories Are Everywhere
A TikTok video showing a woman in tears, taking shaky steps down a rock formation alone, has accumulated more than 4.2 million likes. "He left me by myself, I should have never come with him," she says in the clip.
The comments filled quickly. One woman described a 12-hour journey out of the Grand Canyon after her boyfriend left her behind, during which a stranger from Norway carried her backpack. Another said she got lost in the woods after being abandoned and blocked the man's number the moment she got home.
Julie Ellison, former editor-in-chief of Climbing magazine, says she has heard countless stories like these. "There's that male ego element to it that's not necessarily evil or ill-intentioned, but it usually has a negative effect on the partner who's being left behind," she said.
When It Becomes Dangerous
Being left behind on a trail is not always just unpleasant — it can be genuinely dangerous. Many of the women in these stories describe having some level of dependence on their partner: not carrying enough water, unfamiliar with the terrain, or lacking the supplies needed to continue alone.
In a recent case in Austria, an amateur mountaineer was found guilty of gross negligence manslaughter after leaving his exhausted girlfriend behind on his country's highest peak while he went for help. He could not explain why he had not wrapped her in her emergency blanket before leaving. She died. A former girlfriend testified that he had also left her behind on a trail in 2023.
New York-based therapist Doriel Jacov, who specializes in relationship patterns, draws a direct line between the behavior and harm. "I can't see how leaving someone in a highly unsafe position wouldn't qualify as an abusive dynamic, especially if he is aware to some degree that that's what they're doing," she said.
The Guiding World Has a Simple Rule
Among experienced hikers and guides, the principle is straightforward. The strongest person sets the pace from the back. The slowest person leads from the front. The group moves together.
David Webb, editor-in-chief of Canada's Explore magazine, puts it plainly. "If you invite someone on a hike, you're basically acting as their de facto guide," he said. "Would a guide just storm off on their clients? Of course not."
Webb acknowledges he was once guilty of a milder version of this himself — pushing forward on a hike his wife was not enjoying, more focused on reaching the viewpoint than checking in with her. "I came to a realization that our expectations were totally different for the day," he said.
Marriage and family therapist Daniel Duane, 59, an avid backpacker and climber in San Francisco, says most people recognize the mistake in hindsight. "I don't think it's very common to hear, 'I blew off my romantic partner in the mountains and I'm so glad I did,'" he said. "I think it's almost exclusively, 'God, I was a jerk and I really wish I hadn't done that.'"
What Comes After
Some women in the outdoor industry push back on the gender framing embedded in the alpine divorce conversation. Blair Braverman, a writer and Iditarod competitor, points out that the term assumes the woman is always the less capable one. "Personally, if I were with a man and he wandered away from me on a mountain, I'd be more worried for him than me," she said.
But for many of the women who have lived it, the aftermath has been its own kind of reclamation. MJ did not hike for a year after Zion, convinced something was wrong with her for not keeping up. It took two solo trips to Montana to find her footing again.
"The reason why I love hiking is because it doesn't matter if you're fast or not," she said. "It doesn't matter how long it takes. Hiking is something you don't have to be good or bad at. It's just there."
She is now in a committed relationship with someone who does not hike. Sometimes he jokes about it. After Zion, she is happy to have a relationship with the outdoors entirely on her own terms.
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