On social media, women describe alpine divorce as going on a hike, climb or other outdoor adventure with a male partner, only to be abandoned or left behind – perhaps he went too fast and neglected to wait, or a fight on the trail resulted in him storming off. Breakups have quickly followed.

“It’s such a common thing,” said Julie Ellison, the first female editor-in-chief of Climbing magazine who now works as an outdoor lifestyle photographer. She has heard “so many stories” about men fumbling outdoor dates. “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.”

A recent case study illustrates this point: last month, an amateur Austrian mountaineer was found guilty of gross negligence manslaughter for leaving his exhausted girlfriend behind on his country’s highest peak while he went in search of help. The man, a Salzburg chef identified only as Thomas P, said he was “endlessly sorry” for her death, and his lawyer called it a “tragic accident”. But Thomas P could not explain why he failed to wrap his freezing girlfriend in her emergency blanket before heading down the mountain without her. Earlier in their trek he had also told a police officer over the phone that they did not need any help, even though a rescue helicopter was made available to them.

A man walking 100ft ahead of his girlfriend because he cannot be bothered to wait for her is bad manners. But failing to properly care for someone in an environment they’re not prepared to handle alone can cause real harm. “I can’t see how leaving someone in a highly unsafe position wouldn’t qualify as an abusive dynamic, especially if [the man] is aware to some degree that that’s what they’re doing,” said Jacov.

Naomi, 46, an educator and member of the Wine Hiking Society, a community organization for women that promotes outdoor exploration and socialization, was not surprised when she saw discussion of alpine divorce on TikTok. “It feels like another version of a #MeToo story to me,” she said. “My response is like, well of course [this happens].”

About 20 years ago, Naomi hit Deseret Peak, an 11,036ft (3,363-metre) mountain close to her home in Salt Lake City, with two friends: another woman and a man who she had a “close” but not romantic relationship with. On the way up, Naomi started to feel disoriented, possibly from altitude sickness. But the man, who was chasing a goal of hiking the highest peak in every county in Utah, did not want to stop. (Naomi requested to use only her first name for the sake of privacy.)

The man and woman left Naomi on the way up. She knew that they would not come back for her because the trail was a loop, and she feared she would pass out. “I felt like I had to crawl on my hands and knees, and finally I made it to the top.”

Naomi eventually stopped hiking with the man. “I realized at some point that every bad thing that would happen to me outside, he was the common denominator,” she said. “I would find myself in sketchy situations that were way outside my comfort zone, which is often a theme in these stories of either being left behind or pushing yourself beyond your limit.”

A few years ago, Naomi was hiking Arches national park in Utah when her group noticed a woman lying on the ground in distress.

The woman told them she suffered from severe vertigo – not ideal given the park’s topography – and her date had gone to retrieve his camera after she accidentally dropped it into the bowl near Delicate Arch. “There was no way she was going to get out by herself, and we hiked with her back down to the trailhead,” Naomi said. On the way, they learned that she was on a “second or third date” with the man. “We were asking her, like, ‘So … this might be the last date, huh?’”

MJ calls what happened to her in Zion national park “small ‘T’ trauma”. She knows women have experienced worse from their partners. But she still feels the anger of being left behind on a hike by her now ex. “It brings up stuff in my body that maybe I have not cleared out yet,” she said.

Five years ago, MJ and a new partner – he was not exactly her boyfriend, and the pair were not exclusive – traveled from Los Angeles to Utah for an adventure getaway. MJ, who is 38 and works in PR, was looking forward to exploring Zion’s striking scenery; its vast sandstone canyon and pristine wading trails were on the list. But on the morning of their big hike, MJ was not feeling well. She could not shake the feeling that something was “off”; indeed, MJ would learn on this trip that her partner was seeing other women.

As they made their way up Angel’s Landing, MJ’s partner started walking faster than her. “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 caught up at the top of the mountain, they took a picture together. Then her partner hiked down the mountain with a woman he had met on the way up, leaving MJ to finish by herself. They broke up shortly after that trip. (MJ asked to be referred to by her initials for the sake of speaking openly about a past relationship.)

Last month, MJ opened TikTok and heard the phrase “alpine divorce”, a label she now attaches to her experience in Zion.

If there is a feminist spin on alpine divorce, it’s what comes after the women are left behind. When her ex ditched her in Zion, MJ hiked alongside a friendly female stranger and her young son. Naomi helped the woman with vertigo in Arches. “It happened to me many years ago,” one user wrote in the comment section of the viral TikTok clip. “I met 2 girls on the mountain and told them what happened, and we walked down together. They wouldn’t let me go alone.”

MJ did not hike for a year after her alpine divorce. She figured her inability to keep up with her ex meant that she wasn’t fit enough for the type of activities she grew up loving: “When I got home I was like, something is wrong with me that I wasn’t able to keep up with him.” It took two of what she calls her “Eat Pray Love trips” to the wilderness of Montana, alone, to find that spark again.

MJ is in a loving, committed relationship with someone in North Carolina, where she lives. He’s not that outdoorsy. Sometimes he jokes: “Aren’t you glad I don’t like hiking?” After her Zion trip, MJ is content to have a personal relationship with the outdoors unencumbered by a man.