As the penultimate chapter of our Walking & Wellness series, Savannah’s story is one of quiet strength, patience, and learning to trust her body again. Shaped by a lifetime of illness - both her own and her family’s - her journey with walking hasn’t been straightforward or predictable. 

After years of pain and uncertainty, Savannah takes on her first long-distance hike along the Lechweg, reflecting on resilience, preparation, and what progress really looks like. This is a story about moving forward gently, finding confidence step by step, and discovering that sometimes, doable is more than enough. 

You could probably call my family a group of survival artists. My mother was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis shortly before I was born. My father was diagnosed with lung cancer when I was 16 - doctors gave him 4% chance of survival. In 2025, during my very first week at Macs Adventure, the cancer returned and progressed to stage 4. This time, though, advances in modern medicine - and a good dose of luck - worked in his favor. 

By the time I started university, illness had already become something of a familiar companion. At 18, I developed blood clots running from my hip to the back of my knee - a development that made my Orientation Week noticeably lighter on parties and considerably heavier on hospital visits. 

Growing up around illness teaches you early that bodies don’t always behave as expected. Mine certainly hasn’t. For years, bones broke and became inflamed without obvious reasons. Walking often hurt. Sometimes, it wasn’t possible at all. The search for answers took time - years, in fact - until doctors eventually discovered that celiac disease was at the root of many of these issues. It wasn’t an overnight revelation. But it helped things make sense. 

From Crutches to the Alps 

If someone had told me a year ago, when I was moving around on crutches and in a moon boot - pain flaring up again and again - that I would soon be walking 65 miles (104 kilometres) from Austria to Germany, I would have laughed. And yet, six months later, I was planning the Lechweg. When we first chose the route, I wasn’t entirely sure I could do it. But there were buses running along large parts of the trail, which seemed sensible. 

Worst case, I thought, I’ll take the bus. Having a fallback plan helped. I also wasn’t doing it alone. I went with my best friend of nearly 30 years - someone who knows exactly when to motivate me and when to suggest a break instead. This was my first-ever long-distance hike, and it felt like the right way to start. 

Weather, Rain, and Reality 

The Lechweg didn’t ease us in gently. The first day was warm and sunny, the river a striking turquoise, the mountains looking almost unreal. Then came two days of proper, relentless rain. Not the romantic kind - the soaking, heavy kind. Still, we managed. Good jackets, steady pacing, and the shared understanding that complaining wouldn’t make us any drier. After three days, my legs were sore, which felt reasonable, given the circumstances. My feet, however, were fine. Something I noticed with a certain quiet satisfaction.  

Learning to Trust the Process 

Hiking day after day has a way of stripping life back to its essentials. You get up, you walk, you eat, you rest. You listen to your body. You adjust when you need to, and you let go of the urge to rush. Standing by the turquoise Lech, watching it flow steadily through the valley, it became clear this hike wasn’t about ticking off miles or proving anything. It was about trust - in my body, yes, but also in the support around me. 

Hiking with Macs Adventure made that trust possible. Everything was so thoughtfully organized that I could focus on the walking itself. Nearly every B&B had a sauna waiting at the end of the day - a small luxury that made a huge difference. Our hosts went out of their way to make sure I was looked after, especially when it came to celiac-friendly food. Restaurants along the route were just as accommodating. One Italian restaurant even prepared my gluten-free pizza dough a day in advance - and it turned out to be one of the best gluten-free pizzas I’ve ever eaten. 

That level of care changes how you experience a journey. It turns uncertainty into confidence and effort into enjoyment. By the time we reached Schloss Neuschwanstein - a place I’d always dreamed of visiting - it felt like the perfect ending to the trip, made even more special by seeing it through Macs. By the final day, we were already making plans. When I turn 30, we’ll be walking the Camino Português Coastal Route. I’d never been into hiking before, but now I can’t imagine a better way to spend my 30th birthday. 

Forward Is Forward 

The Lechweg reminded me that progress doesn’t have to look impressive. Sometimes it’s slow. Sometimes it’s wet. Sometimes it involves checking bus timetables you never end up using. And sometimes, it simply means realizing that what felt impossible a year ago is now just…doable. For me, that was 65 miles. And that was enough.