675km through Jordan.
For Afghan mothers.
A solo, self-supported walk the length of the Jordan Trail — raising funds for electrical infrastructure and other life-saving necessities in women's health facilities across Afghanistan.
675 kilometres. North to south. On foot.
The Jordan Trail stretches the entire length of Jordan, from Umm Qais in the far north to Aqaba on the Red Sea. Along the way, Sarah will cross more than 675 kilometres of mountains, farmland, deep wadis and desert — passing through ancient cities, remote villages, Petra and the vast wilderness of Wadi Rum.
She'll complete the journey solo and self-supported, carrying what she needs on her back and moving through the country one step at a time.
Want to explore the full route? View the official Jordan Trail maps and stages.
Follow the journey, live.
Live tracking goes live in October 2026
Once Sarah sets off, her real-time location will appear here via Garmin MapShare — so you can follow every kilometre of the trail as it happens.
675km is only part of the challenge.
The journey begins through Jordan's northern farmland and shepherd country, where aggressive livestock guard dogs are a genuine risk. Sarah has been warned by locals to be prepared for confrontations — and hikers have reported attacks. Out here, she'll be dealing with them alone.
Further south, the trail drops into Jordan's enormous wadis. Heavy rain can turn these narrow canyons into dangerous flash-flood channels, while loose rock, steep climbs and exposed cliff edges leave little room for error. Weather won't just determine whether the day is uncomfortable — it can determine whether it's safe to move at all.
Beyond Petra, civilisation begins to disappear. The trail crosses vast sandstone and desert terrain where the route can be difficult to follow even with a map. With exposed sections, limited water and long stretches of remote wilderness, every route and weather decision will be hers to make.
The final push towards Aqaba crosses some of the most isolated terrain of the journey. Water becomes scarce and shade disappears. She'll have to carry what she needs and rely on carefully planned water drops to get her through the desert to the Red Sea.
675 kilometres. Solo. Self-supported. No support crew walking beside her — just what she carries, what she's planned, and the decisions she makes along the way.
None of this would be possible without Treks — they reviewed and approved the route, gave invaluable advice along the way, and are organising the water drops that make crossing the desert to Aqaba possible at all. They've been amazing to work with, and we can't recommend them highly enough.
Visit Treks →
We're incredibly grateful to Elements X for helping us capture the journey across Jordan — they're fronting most of the expense, including travel, staff and resources, to capture drone footage across the route. Their generosity and willingness to help, means so much to us.
Visit Elements X →I was born into freedom. I can travel, work, learn, take risks, chase ridiculous dreams and decide what I want my life to look like. I didn't earn that freedom. I was simply lucky enough to be born somewhere that gave it to me.
Afghan women were not.
Women who are no less intelligent, ambitious or deserving than I am have watched freedoms disappear simply because of where they were born. And I can't accept that their suffering matters less because it's happening far away.
I've been fundraising since I was a kid, and I've seen how readily people rally around a cause close to home. But when I started working in developing countries, something changed. The problems seemed too distant, too complicated, too big. Again and again, I heard some version of: you can't fix everything.
Of course we can't.
But if it were your mother, your sister, your daughter or your friend, would that be a reason to do nothing?
If someone you loved needed help, you wouldn't ask whether helping her would solve the entire problem. You'd just want someone to help her.
That's why I'm walking 675 kilometres across Jordan, solo and self-supported. I'll carry what I need on my back and walk every kilometre myself. I have the freedom to choose something difficult, to go somewhere alone and to carry that weight. For millions of Afghan women, freedom itself is no longer a choice.
And if doing something difficult makes people stop long enough to look at what is happening to them — really look — then I'll do it.
The rights women have today weren't simply handed to us. Women before us fought, sacrificed and refused to accept that things couldn't change. We owe it to the women coming after us to do the same.
I don't know the women we're trying to help. They aren't my family or my friends. But they shouldn't have to be for their lives to matter to me.
And this project isn't about pretending we can fix Afghanistan. It's about doing something tangible with the opportunity we have. The money raised through Project 675 will go towards strengthening an existing women's health facility — beginning with reliable power, and extending to essential medical equipment, water systems, rehabilitation and operational support where funding allows.
Because behind every statistic is an actual woman. A woman who needs a check-up. A safe delivery. Emergency surgery. A functioning piece of medical equipment. A light that stays on when she needs it most.
One trek won't change Afghanistan. One project won't reach every woman who needs help.
But I've never believed you have to change the whole world to change someone's world.
So we start with someone.
"
Powering women's health facilities in Afghanistan.
Every dollar raised from this trek goes toward electrical infrastructure for women's health facilities across Afghanistan — supporting the communities who need it most.