So, last week I got back from a trip along the North Coast Trail, and I’ve been thinking about it pretty much constantly since then. I’m not sure there’s a better way to test yourself than loading up a backpack and setting off into a stretch of rugged, coastal wilderness. And this wasn’t just one of those casual strolls; the North Coast Trail is a serious undertaking with slippery boardwalks, dense vegetation, steep ladders, and stretches of beach that can be tricky when the tides aren’t on your side.

I headed out early in the morning on my first day, and I have to say, the weather was just about perfect. Crisp air, a slight breeze, and a forecast that promised a few clear days in a row. Which, if you know the Pacific Northwest, is something of a minor miracle. There’s nothing like that feeling when you take your first few steps on the trail, still full of energy, shoulders feeling good, excited to see what’s around the next bend. Every now and then I’d catch a glimpse of the coastline—a sudden opening through dense evergreens—and I’d get this jolt of excitement. Part of the joy in these trips is that you never know what kind of wildlife you might see or which sections will challenge you the most.

Now, I want to spend a good chunk of time talking about the gear I took with me, because if there’s one thing that can make or break a trip like this, it’s the quality and appropriateness of your backpacking gear. I’ll start with the pack itself. I’ve learned the hard way that it’s worth investing in a well-fitted, supportive backpack, something that distributes weight evenly and doesn’t leave you with sore spots on your shoulders or hips. I use an internal frame pack with adjustable suspension. Not the lightest pack out there, but it holds my gear comfortably, and I never find myself cursing it at the end of the day.

Then there’s shelter. For something like the North Coast Trail, you want a tent that can handle moisture, because even when it’s not raining, you’re dealing with humidity and condensation. A lightweight, freestanding tent with a good rainfly was essential for me. It’s also important to have a footprint or groundsheet, because the forest floor can be unforgiving and you don’t want moisture seeping up through the bottom of your tent. A quality sleeping bag—ideally down, if you can keep it dry—is also key. I chose a bag rated a bit warmer than I thought I’d need, just because coastal nights can get chilly. And of course, a sleeping pad that offers enough insulation and comfort to ensure you actually sleep well. Because if you don’t get decent rest, every mile is going to feel twice as long the next day.

Footwear might be the most critical part of all. Good, supportive hiking boots, broken in well before the trip, can save you from blisters and make those muddy, root-filled sections a lot more manageable. Pair them with moisture-wicking socks that help prevent hotspots, and maybe bring along a lightweight pair of camp shoes so you can let your feet breathe at the end of the day. It’s surprising how much of a morale boost it is to switch out of your boots once you hit camp.

When it comes to clothing, layers are king. You want a moisture-wicking base layer, a good insulating mid-layer, and a waterproof shell that can keep you dry if conditions change on a dime. I also always carry a lightweight puffy jacket and a warm hat, even if the forecast says it’s going to be mild, because weather on the Pacific coast can surprise you.

I know all this gear can start to feel overwhelming and expensive. One of the places I’ve found helpful is this resource for outdoor gear. It’s somewhere you can compare different brands, read up on what might work best for your specific style of backpacking, and just make a more informed decision before you fork over your hard-earned money.

Of course, gear is just one piece of the puzzle. The trail itself tests you, and you’ve got to bring a solid set of skills and a certain mindset. But the right gear can reduce some of the stress and let you focus on what’s in front of you—old-growth forests, hidden coves, maybe a sea lion lounging on a stretch of sand just off the trail. It’s all out there, waiting for you, and having a setup that’s dialed in means you can enjoy it without worrying that something’s going to fail right when you need it most.

By the time I got to the end of the North Coast Trail, I was sore and tired, but I felt alive in the best possible way. As I rinsed off that layer of grime and salt back home, I was already daydreaming about the next trip. It’s just something about the Pacific Northwest—there’s always another trail, another stretch of coastline or mountain range calling your name.