(Photo: Hypershell) Published November 3, 2025 02:36PM The look on their faces could not have been more nonplussed had they crossed paths with a trekking-pole-carrying Borg. It was a couple I pass often, as our early-morning schedules frequently overlap on the national forest trail system closest to town. Our interactions are always cordial but truncated, as they are usually heading down while I am heading up. This time, though, they froze mid-tread, jaws agape, as though they were searching for the right words. The man eventually spoke. “Are you OK?” he asked, with a bemused smile. “Yes, why?” I replied. “Well … ” He then pointed to the very obvious contraption—a sci-fi-looking “exoskeleton” ambulatory enhancement device—that was strapped to my hips and thighs. “Oh, that,” I responded nonchalantly while staring down at the lower half of my body. “It’s supposed to help increase my hiking performance and efficiency. It’s designed to help turn me into a super hiker!” “I have always thought you were already a very strong hiker,” the woman graciously chimed in. They then went their way, shaking their heads, and I went mine, with the subtle sound of two miniature electric motors aiding my forward momentum in ways I would have once thought unimaginable. As I walked on, I asked myself: Is this really the future of backcountry travel? ADVERTISEMENT As anyone who pays attention to hiking-related YouTube videos and social media likely knows, over the course of the last few years, exoskeletons designed for use by self-propelled outdoor recreationists have entered, if not the mainstream, then at least the conversation. A dozen or so companies now purvey these devices, which cost anywhere from $500 to more than $2,000. The reason for the sudden proliferation of exoskeletons is fairly simple. AI, robotics, and micro-motor technology have simultaneously evolved at a dizzying pace. Engineers, mostly in China, have figured out ways to mate those three disciplines into integrated power packs/control panels that weigh less than a tablet and can fit in the palm of your hand. Given the increasing popularity of outdoor recreation in the People’s Republic, it did not take long for tech-savvy entrepreneurs to recognize a potentially lucrative means of putting those ultralight advances to use. Exoskeletons designed specifically for hikers were born. Sage Dong founded exoskeleton manufacturer Dnsys in 2020 after spending several years researching robotic motion-control algorithms for Segway. “Many people are seeking new and distinctive outdoor experiences. On familiar routes, wearing an exoskeleton creates surprising sensations or helps you take on goals that once felt out of reach,” Dong says. ADVERTISEMENT He hopes exoskeletons will help people reconnect with nature, especially folks for whom high peaks and long routes may feel out of reach as they age. Various exoskeleton websites aim to appeal to a broader demographic of hikers. They are targeting not so much senior citizens limping their way through the woods, but, rather, well-toned extreme outdoor athletes striding at breakneck pace toward distant summits. Being more a member of the limping senior-citizen demographic because of recent hip replacement surgery, I decided to test drive a couple of exoskeletons—one made by Dnsys, the other by a company called Hypershell —in the wild country that surrounds my home. I wanted to get a feel for devices that, according to their designers, could redefine, if not revolutionize, the sport that has served as the foundation of my life for more than 60 years. ADVERTISEMENT Familiarizing myself with the two exoskeletons was not as simple as fine-tuning the adjustments on a new daypack before taking it out for the first time. Each required scanning a QR code and then downloading an app to my smartphone, neither of which are part of my usual pre-hike checklist. (From this point, I will meld my experiences with both brands together because, though they each have unique characteristics, they are pretty much conceptually the same species.) Even after watching the exoskeletons-for-idiots-type orientation videos, it took me 45 minutes to figure out how to turn these devices on and off. Then I had to convince my phone to talk to the exoskeleton’s control center via Bluetooth. Then there was ascertaining what each of the buttons on the exoskeleton were for. Only then did I dare to actually don the devices. This process required numerous adjustments to assure a correct fit around my waist and thighs. I assume more tech-savvy (read: younger) hikers would be able to complete this process using far less foul language. I stood, smartphone in hand, with various blinking lights letting me know that all I had to do was push the correct button and I too could instantly become an extreme outdoor athlete, bounding effortlessly toward a distant summit in record time. ADVERTISEMENT Fearing that I might become reliant on wearing these contraptions, my plan was to take the exoskeletons out twice each and call it good. The first sessions would follow a remote, 5-mile section of the Continental Divide Trail, where the chances of running into other hikers were slim. I wanted to avoid embarrassing myself until I had these machines under basic control. Then I would take them out on a more-challenging, popular front-country trail that terminates at the summit of a modest peak on a Sunday morning, when it was guaranteed that I would cross paths with other trail users. Standing at the CDT trailhead, mentally preparing for my inaugural exoskeleton experience, I was concerned that, by pushing one of those buttons, I would end up being dragged through the woods, my torso bouncing on the tread behind disembodied legs that were being powered by overenthusiastic machines with minds of their own. Turns out, exoskeletons do not work that way. Using the inexplicable magic of AI, they react to your body in ways that I found both impressive and frightening. It was like they could read my mind. Ghosts in the machine, as it were. The author testing a Hypershell exoskeleton. I started walking and they began assisting my forward momentum by pulling on the struts that were attached to the front of my thighs. Those struts did not pull unless I took a step. When I stopped, they stopped. The entire mechanism was very intuitive, a word that appears frequently in the marketing literature of the various exoskeleton companies. When I stopped on the trail, however, it took a couple steps to wake the AI back up. Until I got used to that issue, I almost fell flat on my face. Both exoskeletons have a wide array of adjustments that control pace. Using your smartphone, which you pretty much need to keep handy, you can tell the device whether you are up for a stroll or an intense experience. Within those parameters, you can decide if you would prefer to hike faster or slower. You can further program them for uphills, downhills, and flat sections of trail, among numerous other gradations. There were settings for sand, gravel, snow, sidewalks, and stairs. Though I toyed with them at first, I found the constant process of fine-tuning amusing but distracting, so I soon defaulted to “hike” and found that perfectly acceptable. ADVERTISEMENT On the two hikes along the CDT, I opted for the upper end of the stroll setting, which synchronized with my usual pace of about 2.5 miles per hour. Both Dnsys and Hypershell advertise that their exoskeletons decrease effort by something like 30 percent. According to the post-hike display on my smartphone, I had maintained a pace of 3.2 miles per hour. I did not even notice that I had been hiking faster than usual. On the second two hikes, as predicted, I did run into many other trail users, covering the gamut from mountain bikers, rail-thin trail runners, and a slew of casual hikers. The reactions of those I passed were wide-ranging. I got some finger-wagging for corrupting the backcountry with unnecessary mechanical devices. Members of one group all wordlessly shook their heads. One lady crossed herself. But most people were curious and wanted detailed information. An older gentleman, whom I have passed on the trail numerous times over the years, wanted me to remove the exoskeleton so he could give it a try. (I declined, fearing that I would never get it back on correctly.) He had been suffering from an array of mobility-related challenges and thought an exoskeleton might prove to be his salvation. As I explained how it worked, I suddenly felt like an exoskeleton apostle. The man offered to buy the device from me on the spot. ADVERTISEMENT I wouldn’t say the ascent, which covers 2.5 miles each way and gains 800 vertical feet, was effortless, but, despite the conversational diversions, I did shave almost five minutes off my previous best time to the summit. After using the Dnsys and Hypershell exoskeletons for a total of 10 miles each, here are my observations: I did not find either of them particularly comfortable on the trail. There was some chafing on my thighs, but I suspect that, were I to ever adopt either as part of my day-to-day trail ensemble, I could tweak the adjustments enough to achieve a more comfortable fit. Since both models attach with a substantial waist belt that includes padding, battery pack, and some controls, it’s tough to simultaneously utilize the waist belt of one’s daypack. I had to rest my pack atop the back part of the exoskeleton’s belt in such a way that my chest strap ended up nearly at nostril level. On the Hypershell and Dnsys websites, it looks like hikers overcome this issue by using daypacks that ride higher on the back. Use of a fully laden backpack with an exoskeleton would likely be problematic. ADVERTISEMENT My test hikes were short enough that the battery packs on both brands of exoskeleton were not even slightly drained. Still, I wonder about battery longevity on longer treks. Dnsys and Hypershell contend that their batteries are good for 20 or so miles of continuous use. Battery-life technology seems to be increasing every year. So, while the exoskeletons now seem most appropriate for dayhikes, it is not out of the realm of possibility that people could carry numerous batteries for hikes of longer duration. Whenever I took the exoskeletons off at the end of a hike, it felt like my legs weighed 200 pounds each. The devices surely made my hiking less effortful, but the tradeoff was taking a bit longer to walk from my car to the bar afterward. Though the feeling dissipated after a couple blocks, this makes me wonder what the long-term effects of exoskeleton use on human physiology might be. They are new enough that, to the best of my knowledge, no studies exist. The Dnsys X1 in action. (Photo: Dnsys) From the minute these two exoskeletons arrived on my front porch, my interest has been focused less on how, and how well, they work and more on how they might fit into a broader outdoor-recreation context. I was living in Colorado’s Roaring Fork Valley, near Aspen, when e-bikes hit the outdoor world like a philosophical maelstrom. It was amusing—from the perspective of a non-mountain biker—to observe the often-vociferous back-and-forth that dominated local social media and letters-to-the-editor. Those arguments centered to a large extent on whether e-bikes should be prohibited on paths—both paved and dirt—designated forever solely for non-motorized use. Safety issues were frequently raised. There were heartfelt admonitions regarding the integrity of the sport of cycling. There were accusations of laziness and cheating. But, here we are, less than a decade later, and e-bikes have become common, being used even by those who once denigrated their entire existence. ADVERTISEMENT It seems possible that exoskeletons will become the hiking equivalent of e-bikes, that they might initially be scoffed at by hiking purists, even as they are gradually accepted by those contending with legitimate orthopedic issues and those looking to hike farther, faster, with less strain. In the meantime, though, there is one salient question I feel compelled to address: access to legally designated Wilderness Areas. The 1964 Wilderness Act prohibits the use of mechanized forms of transport in legally designated Wilderness Areas. But when it comes to exoskeletons, there are no specific restrictions on the rulebooks—yet. Attempting to get national-level media-relations people at the U.S. Forest Service, which administers the vast majority of Wilderness Areas in the country, to address the issue of exoskeletons elicited non-responses that amounted to “uh, tell me again what exactly exoskeletons are.” Then: crickets. One regional Forest Service public information officer, who commented on the condition of anonymity because she was not authorized to address the topic, was of the opinion that, under certain circumstances, exoskeletons might be allowed in Wilderness Areas, if you overlay provisions of the Americans with Disabilities Act onto the Wilderness Act. ADVERTISEMENT “Congress has reaffirmed that nothing in the Wilderness Act prohibits the use of battery-powered wheelchairs in Wilderness Areas,” she said. “So, I would think that, if the devices were being used by mobility-impaired people, then they would be allowed, the same as electric wheelchairs.” In other words, there’s more than a bit of interpretive ambiguity at play here. Time will tell. Meanwhile, exoskeleton technology is advancing at a breakneck pace. There are already models made specifically for mountain bikers and skiers. There are some designed for hikers with knee and hip problems. And, says Dong, “Looking ahead, Dnsys aims to make exoskeletons into powered clothing that everyone can own and truly wants to wear.” According to one website, the company’s goal is to make exoskeletons “as common as fitness trackers.” This is not as far-fetched as it may seem. Exoskeleton rental kiosks are already popping up at resorts in China. I have seen YouTube videos showing fashionably attired folks striding down busy sidewalks in China wearing exoskeletons. ADVERTISEMENT I wonder if, at some point in the not-too-distant future, we will forget that there was once a time when, in order to gain access to a distant summit, we had to move through the backcountry under our own power, even if it sometimes required limping along the trail. No QR code required. I plan to continue hiking under my own power as long as I am able. But if there ever comes a day when physiological circumstances give me a choice between using an exoskeleton or giving up walking through the woods, well, as the Borg say, “resistance is futile.” Source: https://www.backpacker.com/stories/testing-ai-exoskeleton-hiking/