The Hidden Cost of Feel-Good Fundraising Adventures

In recent years, adventure fundraising has surged in popularity. People sign up to trek through rugged terrain in so-called “third world” countries—like the Kokoda Track in Papua New Guinea—raising money for causes back home. On the surface, it seems like a win-win: personal challenge, good PR, and charity support. But scratch beneath that glossy surface, and a confronting ethical question emerges: is it fair to take from these communities without giving back?

Too often, the answer is no.

Many adventure fundraisers channel tens or hundreds of thousands of dollars to first-world charities, while the host communities—who carry the packs, cook the meals, build the huts, and welcome visitors with open hearts—are left with the scraps. The economic boost is minimal. The infrastructure remains unchanged. And the “thank you” is often a photo op, not a legacy.

Worse still, a whole industry has emerged around this model: foundations, marketing agencies, and “impact brokers” who profit from facilitating these experiences, but who rarely, if ever, return anything meaningful to the people on the ground. Corporates jump on board for the branding and optics, talking about global citizenship while ignoring the inequality under their feet.

Take the Kokoda Track for example. Our organisation doesn’t run a foundation, but we consistently reinvest into the villages and families who make this journey possible—whether through education, medical support, infrastructure, or employment. It’s not for show, it’s because we believe in walking with, not walking over, the people who host us.

Fundraising adventures don’t have to be morally wrong. But they do need to be conscious. Ethical. Reciprocal. It’s time to ask not just what we’re raising funds for—but who we’re walking past to do it.

Let the adventure uplift everyone it touches—not just those back home