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As one of the most important decisions you can make when it comes to backpacking gear, your choice of a backpacking tent can have quite the impact in regards to your comfort in camp and protection from the elements. Additionally, choosing the best backpacking tent can also have an impact when it comes to weight carried on the trail (as one of, if not the heaviest items in your pack), and a tent decision can have quite the impact on your wallet, as well. With many factors to consider, in this article we’ll look at the top backpacking tents currently on the market, with a preference towards tents that of course offer protection from the elements, but also are lightweight and include plenty of space for the weight (including headroom), while remaining sufficiently durable and easy to use. Additionally preference here leans towards tents that haven’t had any flame or fire retardant chemicals applied, and for tents that are easy to get in and out of and have space to store gear. Best Solo & Ultralight Backpacking Tents For solo use I look to save just about as much weight as possible and space is less of a concern – I find a little extra space to be much more useful and important when there’s more than one person sharing a tent. If it’s just me and in this day and age, I’ll look to go with a Dyneema Composite Fabric tent every time and will look for an ultralight tent under the 20 ounce mark or so. Previously my choice has been the (discontinued) Zpacks Hexamid Twin, which while designed for two was much more workable for one person having only a single side door and one vestibule. This tent however still only weighed around a pound. An ultralight Dyneema Composite Fabric tent from Zpacks Luckily there are modern-day alternatives available from Zpacks via their Plex Solo tent ($599, 14.6 oz.) as well as their Altaplex Solo tent ($669, 16.5 oz.), with the Altaplex being designed for taller hikers. I like a rectangular, non-tapering floorplan whenever I can get it no matter what tent I’m looking at, and as such the Altaplex would be an intriguing ultralight option. That said for those using standard-width pads who want the lightest pack, the Plex Solo and the Plex Solo Lite tent (featuring more ultralight materials and further weight savings) are equally interesting choices. With the solo tent category one door and one vestibule work great, as can be found in the tent designs discussed above. However, especially for those that backpack with a wide pad and like space, the Duplex Lite tent ($669, 14.9 oz.) should be given strong consideration. The Duplex Lite is also an option for 2 with standard-width pads, who want to save as much weight as possible and don’t mind bumping elbows. Regardless of which Zpacks tent you go with, I’d suggest at least considering their .75 oz. canopy material over the default .55 oz. Dyneema. I’ve used the .55 oz. material for years without issue – it’s not a bad default material and my tents have withstood years of use and severe weather. However, future DCF tents that I purchase will likely be of the .75 oz. variety just for all-around insurance. The .75 oz. material will be stronger and offer greater puncture resistance, which may be appreciated over the long haul and when you need it, without too much of a weight penalty. As you might have guessed, Zpacks offering buyers the choice of this fabric option is one reason their tents are recommended so highly in this article. Note that as you might expect, their "Lite" tents are not offered in this heavier duty fabric, but are still worth consideration as the lightest of the light. However, if you’re not sold on Dyneema and prefer a more traditionally-designed tent, one that does stand out in this category can be found in the NEMO Hornet Elite Osmo 1-Person tent ($550, 29 oz.). With 39” of headroom this tent may not be the most ideal choice for the tallest of users, but this height is on par with other tents in the more traditional, double-walled and freestanding (or semi-freestanding) tent market. At less than 2 pounds this tent will not weigh you down and can even fit a rectangular large and wide sleeping pad. If you’re looking to save some cash, NEMO also offers a standard version of the Hornet Osmo, which still comes in at a respectable weight with slightly smaller interior dimensions. Best 2-Person Backpacking Tents For a 2-person backpacking tent, I look for 2 doors with side entries and 2 matching vestibules, without question. This allows each person their own entry and exit (no having to crawl over anyone) and their own space to store gear at night. Generally, around 3lbs. or less is a good target here. For many years my go-to option here was the Six Moon Designs Lunar Duo ($395, 45 oz.). This tent features all the prerequisites above, but the weight of their lighter backpacking model (previously known as the Explorer model, and suggested if budget allows over their heavier Lunar Duo Outfitter) has crept up a bit in recent years. The Six Moon Designs Lunar Duo 2-person backpacking tent That said, the Lunar Duo backpacking model is not exactly heavy by any means and is a wonderful design with a 54x90” floorplan. This is one of the best floor measurements for a 2-person tent I’ve ever used. It’s long enough for tall hikers, wide enough for 2 wide pads, and isn’t excessive even with 2 standard pads…extra space is always nice. Additionally, the 45” centered height is great for sitting up in the tent. If at least one hiker uses a shorter pad, you can easily fit 2 people plus a dog or very small child in this tent as well, with gear being stored in the large vestibules. Find our Lunar Duo review here. About the only downside to this tent is that, as with all silnylon / silpoly tents including those to follow from Tarptent, you’ll need to seal the seams with something like SeamGrip SIL seam sealer at home before you head out, although many manufacturers are now offering this as an add-on service. Many backpackers – including myself – have long hoped that Six Moon Designs would come out with a Dyneema Lunar Duo to take things from lightweight to ultralight...we’ll continue to keep our hopes up. With its 90" long floor, the Lunar Duo from Six Moon Designs can fit 2 people with extra room, especially if at least one person utilizes a shorter sleeping pad. For something lighter but significantly more expensive, the Zpacks Duplex tent ($699, 17.9 oz.) or the larger ZPacks Triplex tent ($799, 21.4 oz.) are worth significant consideration. Zpacks tents are made from Dyneema Composite Fabric to save weight and you’ll end up with a tent that won’t sag in the rain like you can get with silnylon. At a 45” floor width, the Duplex will be tight for 2 people and both hikers will have to use standard-width sleeping pads, unless you want to absolutely max out the width of the floor with 1 wide and 1 regular-width sleeping pad…something I don’t recommend. The Triplex however, at a 60” floor width would be extremely tight for 3, but has plenty of room for 2 people with wide pads and room for gear or possibly a dog or small child as well. For 2+ look at the Offset Trio tent which will offer a little more width at the head of the tent, and a bit more length as well which can make fitting a dog in much easier. The Zpacks Triplex features a 60" wide floor, offering room for 2 people using wide sleeping pads with room to spare. Mainstream manufacturer Big Agnes makes some interesting tents in their Platinum and Carbon lines that are either freestanding or semi-freestanding, however there are some compromises to be had related to interior space or entry configuration (a side door, even when solo, is preferred). For example the Tiger Wall 2 Platinum tent ($650, 40 oz.) will get you a semi-freestanding tent for 2 using standard-width pads, but the 86” length and 39” peak height combined with a lengthwise sloping ceiling would be cramped for taller users. The Copper Spur 3 Platinum ($700, 52 oz.) is an interesting tent that boosts the interior length and height while using a more domed design, and is fully freestanding. This tent would be a palace for something like 2 people using wide pads that want plenty of personal space, or two and a dog (and as a 3-person tent of course – more on that later). All said, the Zpacks Triplex (for more see our full Zpacks Triplex review) is a top choice in this category for maximum flexibility (tents only seem smaller in the field). 60” is a bit much, and something close to the width of the Lunar Duo would be closer to perfect for 2. That said, we’re not making a custom tent here and beggars can’t be choosers. For two using wide pads who also have a dog along, the aforementioned Offset Trio would be a better fit. Both of these tents feature 2 doors and 2 vestibules. You can view both the Triplex and the Offset Series of tents here at Zpacks.com. Best Family or Group Backpacking Tents There is not much discussion to be had here when it comes to the best group and family backpacking tent, as unfortunately it seems manufacturers pour most of their research and development into their 1 or 2-person tent designs. The Tarptent Hogback ($569, 63.2 oz.) is my choice in this category with few competitors. The Hogback is a 4-person tent that weighs in around 4 pounds and features an 86x86” floorplan that can fit up to 4 standard-width pads, or 3 wide pads, and features double-wall construction with either mesh or partial-solid fabric inner options. 4 people in the Hogback will be a squeeze and you’ll be fighting for vestibule space, but we’ve used it for 3 plus a dog on many occasions. Tarptent Hogback 4-person backpacking tent Although for years Tarptent declined to entertain the idea of making Dyneema Composite Fabric tents, in recent years they began to utilize this weight-saving non-stretch fabric, but it hasn’t made it up the line to the Hogback quite yet (which would save quite a bit of weight in a tent this large). That said, we’ve been quite happy with the silnylon fly utilized in our Hogback and about 4lbs is still quite light for a tent of this size. You can read our full Tarptent Hogback review here. Although more of a backpacking shelter than a tent due to its floorless nature, the Black Diamond Mega Light tent ($400, 45 oz.) is also worth considering in this category and these tents and tents of a similar design have been successfully used by educational expeditions for many years. Depending on where you’re backpacking however, the extra bug and weather protection you get with an integrated floor like you’ll find on the Hogback may be appreciated. There is an optional nest available for the Mega Light; however it more than doubles the weight and almost doubles the price. For a lighter option Hyperlite Mountain Gear offers their UltaMid 4 pyramid ($1440 as a tent, 62 oz. with the floored mesh insert and pole). With either of these shelters you'll need to be aware of some compromises pyramid shelters can have – like a pole in the center of the tent, typically one (relatively) small door for entry and exit, lack of vestibule space, and the possibility of rain getting into the tent when entering and exiting due to the slanted walls. For freestanding options, the previously mentioned Big Agnes Copper Spur 3 Platinum ($700, 52 oz.) can fit 3 people with standard-width pads with room to spare, or 1 person with a wide pad and 2 others with 20” wide sleeping pads. The Copper Spur UL4 tent ($800, 88 oz.), with its larger 86x96” floorplan can fit 4 people with up to 3 of those 4 people even using wide sleeping pads, and this tent also has an impressive 50” inside height. This will get everyone in the same tent, although you’ll be well over 5lbs. And if the HV UL4 still isn’t enough space, you can take a look at the 86x108” Copper Spur HV UL5 ($900, 117 oz.) which, as you might expect, is designed for groups of 5 and features 60” – or 5 feet, of headroom. The Copper Spur UL line is typically a leader on the spec sheets – just be aware that to achieve light weight in a traditional design Big Agnes uses very light 15 and 20D fabrics that are lower on the hydrostatic head scale and feature a PU (polyurethane) coating. Coatings are very waterproof and allow manufacturers to tape seams, but coatings wear off, unlike impregnated silicone or Dyneema waterproof fabrics (it would be suggested to use a groundsheet – I use one made of window insulation film). At some point and once the group size gets larger, taking multiple smaller separate tents may make the most sense and can even save weight over a single larger tent – although depending on your tent choice, this can potentially be more expensive. Best Budget Backpacking Tents Budget is relative, but for this category we can go ahead and rule out ultralight Dyneema tents and set our focus on the much more affordable nylon and polyester options. The Six Moon Designs Lunar Solo ($260, 26 oz.) can be had for less with free shipping and a sign-up discount, and if you catch it on sale it can even go for under $200. The Lunar Solo is roomy for one, fitting either standard or wide pads. The REI Half Dome Series of tents with a 2-person as well as a 3-person option has also been a go-to choice for many years. The REI Co-op Flash Series of tents offer lighter weight options, and can typically be found on sale at intervals throughout the year. The venerable Six Moon Designs Lunar Duo can also be found in their heavier but much cheaper polyester Outfitter Tent version, which will get you a palace for 2 people in a package under 4lbs. for around $200. If you’re looking to save and aren’t too picky on an exact model, checking the REI Co-op Outlet from time to time can lead to some good savings on a variety of tent models from various manufacturers. Best 4-Season Backpacking Tents All the tents listed here thus far are primarily targeted towards 3-season use, but if you’re wanting to extend your trips into winter where heavy snow load can be expected and freestanding features become more important, you’ll need to look into 4-season options. The Black Diamond Firstlight 2P ($450, 54 oz.) has been a popular option for solo and 2-person use for years – you can find our full review of the Firstlight 2P tent here. If you like the Firstlight but want a little more space for 2 people, look at the Black Diamond Firstlight 3P ($500, 64 oz.). Black Diamond also offers their Hilight 2P tent as well as the Hilight 3P tent, which are very similar to the Firstlight except with upgraded features at a weight penalty. Tarptent Scarp 2 4-season tent For my use, I like the Tarptent Scarp 2 ($489, 56 oz.), however the weight is getting up there with the crossing poles and you’ll need to set a couple snow anchors with this one. For more, take a look at our Tarptent Scarp 2 review. When it comes to 4-season tents and winter backpacking, you don't want to make any compromises in regards to protection from the elements or the sturdiness of your tent, and extra weight carried here is typically worth it. Final Thoughts Overall when selecting the best backpacking tent you need to find a balance between weather and bug protection, weight, space, and price – and getting that balance just right will be a little different for each of us. However, with hundreds of options on the market the perfect tent is likely out there for everyone no matter your needs. For more on baseline information and factors to consider when choosing a backpacking tent or shelter, see our guide on how to choose a backpacking tent that goes into tent design and factors to consider on a more overall and general level. For a list of additional backpacking tents to consider from various manufacturers that you can narrow down by capacity, season, and more, check out this page at REI.com.

Dyneema Composite Fabric, often shortened to DCF and previously referred to as Cuben Fiber, is a fabric made from Dyneema fibers that are embedded in a polyester film to form a single material or fabric. Due to the high strength to weight ratio of the Dyneema fibers and its low stretch combined with inherent waterproofness, DCF and Cuben Fiber has proven to be a popular option for lightweight and ultralight backpacking gear over the past several years, and usage continues to grow in popularity for use in tents, tarps, backpacks, stuff sacks, and other accessory items. What follows is an introduction and review of the material across the different options and applications that are available. Ultralight tent from Zpacks DCF vs. Silnylon Most of the time, DCF / Cuben Fiber will compete directly with waterpoof silnylon due to the similarities in weight, but the materials are very different. Typically, the silnylon utilized for shelter applications weighs around 1.1 ounces per square yard+. DCF utilized for the same applications usually weighs between .51 ounces and .74 ounces / square yard. With the amount of material that’s utilized for something like a tent or shelter, this can offer significant weight savings. Additionally, Dyneema Composite Fabric has extremely low stretch; with a silnylon shelter you most likely need to re-tension guylines after initial setup and once the material relaxes, or when it gets wet from rain or condensation – DCF just stays taut, and in my experience DCF shelters also simply accumulate less condensation to begin with. When it’s time to pack up in the morning, DCF holds on to less moisture after it gets wet, resulting in less of a soggy (and heavy) shelter to carry along on wet trips. However, DCF is significantly more expensive (culminating in the antiquated $1800 Sierra Designs Mojo UFO) and while it’s durable, it is not very abrasion resistant – the main caveat in the DCF durability department. Dyneema Composite Fabric Stuff Sack and Tent Stake Bag Common DCF Variants and Types Many variants of DCF are offered with two factors at hand: the density of the Dyneema fibers and the thickness of the polyester film. Increasing either boosts the strength and durability, while increasing weight. Very thin and light versions are made as well – getting so lightweight that durability will be a significant concern, but here we’ll look at the most popular weights that feature a good blend of durability while still saving weight. .51 oz. DCF Weighing about half of what typical silnylon weighs, .51 oz. / sq. yd DCF is a very lightweight material that is still quite strong. This is the material I’ve used in two different shelters (both from Zpacks) over the years, and durability has been good. Even though this material is so thin it’s slightly transparent (you can see the stars through your tent at night), it’s surprisingly strong and I’ve had shelters made from .51 hold up very well in strong winds. One of my shelters did develop a small pinhole in the canopy over time, from abrasion I would guess – which was easily and quickly sealed with a dab of Seam Grip SIL. I’ve used .51 stuff sacks as well over the years, which taking more abuse and abrasion have eventually self-destructed. However, I’ve had an equal amount of silnylon stuff sacks suffer this fate as well, and additionally have had to perform the exact same pinhole repair to a Lunar Duo silnylon tent. In my experience .51 offers similar durability to typical silnylons. .51 Dyneema Composite Fabric .74 oz. DCF / .75 DCF / .8 oz. / CT2E.08 Dyneema Composite Fabric This variation has the same polyester film thickness as .51 above, but features a higher density of Dyneema fibers bringing the weight up to around .8 oz. / sq. yd. This additional strength and durability adds some peace of mind and as such, some manufacturers default to this weight for shelter usage, and it’s still lighter than silnylon. While still considered a bit thin for something like a backpack or for shelter floor usage, I have many nights in a shelter that utilizes a .74 DCF floor, and it’s holding up very well, albeit when used with a lightweight and cut to size window insulation film groundsheet. .74 vs. .51 DCF is a pretty common decision to make, and it’s all about application and how important saving an ounce or two is to you along with the application. This DCF weight is colloquially referred to by the names in the title of this section, and naming conventions have changed a bit over time, but performance is much the same (although newer versions have been updated with a "type E" Mylar film promising increased durability). 1 oz. to 1.5 oz. DCF Of the pure DCF options (those not combined with another material) these weights, usually seen in either 1 or 1.43 oz weights are the heavy duty offerings. Featuring both a thicker film as well as a higher density of Dyneema fibers, these will be the strongest and most durable of offerings that we’ve discussed so far, and are useful for applications that may be under higher stress or subject to possible abrasion scenarios from time to time, like shelter floors, or for ultralight backpacks. We are moving into a weight range where we’re not really saving any weight over silnylon at this point however, even though this heavy weight DCF can still offer some advantages, but not in regards to price. Hybrid DCF Material Showing Outer Polyester Layer Hybrid DCF This is a heavier DCF fabric, that has an outer laminated polyester fabric for more strength and durability, with the inner side being the exposed DCF / Cuben Fiber. This is a heavier duty fabric mostly used for backpacks and accessories – not shelters. This fabric has some appeal for high strength and extra durability with the extra polyester outer layer that offers more abrasion resistance. The fabric also absorbs very little water, and with the DCF inner layer it is very waterproof by nature (no PU coating needed here), making this a popular choice for backpacks that also comes in an array of attractive colors. I’ve found hybrid DCF / Cuben offers a good balance of weight and durability – it’s a very appropriate choice for situations where abrasion may be encountered and strength is needed, like in a backpack. It will require a little more care than (the heavier) Nylon / Dyneema Gridstop fabrics that are also used by many backpack manufacturers like ULA Equipment, while being more waterproof. As with anything, tradeoffs are to be considered and as we move into the heavier DCF and hybrid DCF weights, you’ll notice the comparison is no longer vs. silnylon, but is to be had with heavier duty and stronger fabric options like Dyneema Gridstop and X-Pac. The Hybrid DCF / Cuben Fiber pack lid shown above turned inside out, revealing the DCF inner layer. Specialty DCF Just as soon as you seem to get a handle on all the different types of DCF out there, new weights are released and new innovations hit the market, including Dyneema Composite Fabric featuring a waterproof / breathable eVent membrane that’s being used in some rain gear applications and even a tent. For shelter usage, it’s also common to see an option that adds a camoflauge outer layer to existing weights, and the camo layer gives the shelter a little more strength and more privacy. Other, more standard DCF offerings hit the market from time to time as well offering varying levels of film thickness and Dyneema density, and often it will come down to the preference of the gear manufacturer as to the options that are available. In all cases though, with a starting point to go off of all of these options can be evaluated based on weight, thickness, and Dyneema fiber density for an idea of how the field performance will pan out. Made from DCF, this Zpacks Triplex 3 person tent weighs just 24 ounces. Final Thoughts Whether it’s an ultralight dry bag, a lightweight and spacious shelter from Zpacks, or a hybrid DCF backpack offering, Dyneema Composite Fabric or Cuben Fiber is an intriguing option where high strength and waterproofness is desired at a low weight. As with any other backpacking fabric many tradeoffs are to be had, and with the advantages of DCF come some durability concerns, that can often be comparable to an existing popular fabric like silnylon, or mitigated with a little care. High price is the other tradeoff that’s always attached to DCF, and in the end it’s up to each one of us to decide if the advantages are worth the cost. One thing is for sure: DCF is here to stay and has been proven to perform very well in the outdoors and in typical lightweight backpacking scenarios.

Water and sand, water and sand, water and sand – it’s been a few years since I visited the canyon country of Utah and I forgot about the mix of water and sand here that can permeate one’s hiking shoes. I should have worn sandals. I read about walking the wet canyon bottom, but I stuck with my hiking shoes anyway. This time I arrived to explore Coyote Gulch, a photogenic but crowded canyon which cuts across Grand Staircase National Monument and the Glen Canyon National Recreation Area of south-central Utah. After bouncing an hour down the 33 miles of dirt-covered Hole-in-the-Rock Road, my hike began at the Hurricane Wash trailhead. You can obtain a free permit here to cover your hike, if there are still some available. My goal for this trip was to explore the Coyote Gulch area thoroughly from Hurricane Wash, connecting with Coyote Gulch and walking it to its convergence with the Escalante River Canyon. I’d then retrace my steps for awhile up Coyote Gulch and jutting right when Hurricane Wash juts left. I’d take this route back up the gulch until it meets up with the Red Well Trailhead, walking the road from here back to my car, and creating a large 30 mile letter “Y” of a hike. A Coyote Gulch Backpacking Trip Begins The hiking was easy enough at first, as the trail crosses sandy mounds of desert and dry wash beds. A few groups of backpackers were leaving as I walked in, but I was to see many more hikers before the day was through. This is not the place to go for solitude; as a matter of fact I saw more people on this backpacking trip than all my 60-70 Utah canyon hikes put together (excluding Virgin Narrows in Zion National Park). That was ok with me. I had hiked many other canyons in the Escalante region, but this was still on my list to explore and photograph. As I walked onward, Hurricane Wash slowly deepened and the walls narrowed as I approached Coyote Gulch. A spring generated a small stream which grew deeper as I hiked downward, and it was here along the trail I began to find poison ivy. Since I’m horribly allergic to the stuff, I watched where my arms and legs were at all times. Water was never a problem on this hike, but because there is so much of it, I also felt more mosquitoes and chiggers than any time in canyon country. Once Hurricane Wash converged with Coyote Gulch, the canyon widened and so did the creek. Here campers and tents were seemingly around every bend. Lizards scurried across last year’s fallen leaves, and you’d swear they were rattlesnakes – that took a little time to get used to. Coyote Gulch deepened and opened up to huge alcoves. From here to the meeting of the Escalante River, you can choose to try and keep your feet dry or just walk the sandy bottom of the creek (good luck keeping your feet dry). In a couple of miles the route passes by Jacob Hamblin Arch, and after a couple more miles you’ll walk through Coyote Natural Bridge. If you take the higher slickrock route (instead of the bowed canyon cascade route) you’ll get a good view of Cliff Arch. Along the way, you’ll pass a panel of Fremont Indian pictographs too. In the lower part of Coyote Gulch the waterfalls begin, and with that the hike begins to lower off ledges and down benches. I wanted to spend time with these photogenic cascades and take advantage of some of the morning light bouncing off the canyon walls. The lower part of the canyon seemed more flower-filled too which added to the ambiance. Somehow I followed a rock cairn towards a ledge. Here I got off-route, until a Good Samaritan backpacker came along to direct me back up canyon. The trail at this signed junction actually goes south uphill between cliff faces. A few hundred foot slog in sand gives you a view of the large Stevens Arch across the Escalante River. Further uphill will bring you to a trailhead and also a junction with the Escalante below. A longer hike can be taken from here, but for me this was trail’s end. And a reverse route was begun. I always like reversing my route in canyon country for the different perspective. I took a different route at times or walked the other side of the canyon for a change of scenery. Once I reached the confluence of Hurricane Wash and Coyote Gulch I continued my walk up Coyote Gulch to its beginnings. Every time I thought the canyon was about to peter out I’d round the bend and there would be another 500-foot alcove shading me from the sun. Once the trail passes through a gate at a barb-wire fence you start hiking through cow country. Cow pies litter the water and splatter the sand, and within a few miles the water turns to dust. From here it’s a dry hike back to the Red Wall Trailhead along sandy-bottomed washes and over slickrock. I followed the road from here for about 4-5 miles back to my car. Need to Know Information Permits are available at the trailhead. Good lightweight footwear helped make my feet more comfortable, and get ready for wet and sand, wet and sand, wet and sand. Best Time to Go I recommend taking this hike in spring or fall. If you’d like more water along your walk, then go for spring; but if it’s the fall color of cottonwoods that you’re after, choose autumn for your seasonal hiking. Getting There From State Route 12 just east of the town of Escalante in south-central Utah, take the Hole-in-the-Rock road (may be impassible if wet) 33.5 miles to the Hurricane Wash Trailhead. Car shuttles can also be arranged ahead of time through local outfitters if you’d like to drop your car off at one end and shuttle to a starting point. Maps I used the National Geographic Trails Illustrated Canyons of the Escalante #710 Map. For getting to and from the trailhead and exploring other Utah hikes, an atlas like the Delorme Utah Atlas & Gazetteer can be useful. Books There are many hiking and canyoneering books covering the Escalante region of Utah, you might want to check out the Falcon Guide: Hiking Grand Staircase-Escalante & Glen Canyon Region by Ron Adkison. All images in this article © David M. Cobb Photography. Editor's Note: This article by contributor David Cobb originally appeared in Issue 9 of TrailGroove Magazine. You can read the original article here for additional photos and content. See more of David’s photography at dmcobbphoto.com.

The words “wintry mix” are horrible enough to hear if you’re just commuting to your job, but they’re even more terrible if they’re in the forecast for a backpacking trip. When a wintry mix is predicted, it often means that a backpacker will have to deal with multiple forms of precipitation – rain, sleet, snow, and perhaps even freezing rain – as the temperatures fluctuate from night to day or due to elevation during a trip. What might start off as a miserable cold rain can shift to sleet before you go to sleep and you might wake up with a few inches of wet snow to deal with. Or if you’re incredibly unlucky, you might have to handle frozen gear and slick conditions resulting from freezing rain. In over a decade of four-season backpacking, some of the most uncomfortable conditions I’ve ever had were temperatures in the low to mid 30s with mixed precipitation in December in Great Smoky Mountains National Park. I would eagerly have traded those conditions for temperatures ten degrees colder with snow rather than having to endure soaking rain that only shifted to sleet, freezing rain, and then snow after the sun went down. Hiking in a Wintry Mix Aside from avoiding trips where wintry mix is in the forecast, I’ve found that the best ways to deal with its misery are to have a separate rain fly / tarp for cooking and gear, and a sacrosanct set of midnight base layers that you only wear when in the total dryness of your tent. In such conditions I prefer insulating layers that aren’t impacted by moisture or humidity to help stay warm and comfortable in these conditions. For insulating layers, synthetic insulated jackets using Primaloft, Coreloft, or APEX for example, are much more preferable than down. Lightweight fleece midlayers worn under a rainshell are often an ideal combination when hiking in the temperature range where a wintry mix occurs and typical hiking and backpacking rain gear / rain hiking techniques work well and can be used with the these additional layers. Your hiking footwear will be the hardest to dial in and likely will be dependent on personal preference and the duration of your trip. Both waterproof and non-waterproof footwear options have their pros and cons and you’ll likely need to try them both out in similar conditions to see what works best for you. For ultralight hikers, non-waterproof footwear is often combined with some type of vapor barrier liner (there are various options, but large oven bags are one ultralight option) to add warmth in these types of conditions, while going with a waterproof / breathable boot combined with a pair of hiking / backpacking gaiters is another direction that can be successful. For hands adding a pair of waterproof rain mitts can work well when combined with normal gloves underneath. Another option for dealing with wintry mix in the forecast, although geographically limited, is to simply plan your trip to a hot spring – which shine in cold weather – or around shelters, like those on the Appalachian Trail. Cabins or lookouts are also good options. Warming up around a wood stove after hiking in bone-chilling cold and damp conditions is a sublime and a simple pleasure. Additionally, in mountainous terrain you can often choose to hike out of the snow zone (albeit, into rain) by descending and hiking a lower trail or route. Lastly, admitting you are outmatched by the elements and choosing to day hike instead of backpacking can often be a wise choice. Discretion can be just as important when it comes to backpacking as valor. Editor's Note: This trail tip originally appeared in Issue 50 of TrailGroove Magazine. You can read the original article here.

The people of Idaho know what a gem they have in the Sawtooth Range, but few people elsewhere in the world have a clue it exists. Recently my travels took me to Stanley, Idaho which lays claim to being the gateway to the Sawtooths, and from here it’s an easy drive to numerous trailheads in the Sawtooth Range. I have photographed this mountain range many times around its periphery, but this time I wanted to backpack through the heart of these mountains. With the help of a shuttle, who would shuttle my car while I was backpacking, I could make a linear trip from one end of the Sawtooth Range to the other. Stanley is a small town, but it does have a grocery store and a shop where gear can be purchased. It also has the Stanley Bakery which serves the best breakfast around for hundreds of miles. With the owner’s recent purchase of the Sawtooth Inn and Restaurant just a few blocks from the bakery, the local dinners are not to be missed either. The Sawtooth Mountains & Sawtooth Wilderness This 217,000-acre Wilderness was signed into law and protected by congress in 1972. The land is filled with granite spires (with 50 over 10,000 feet) and over 400 alpine lakes. There are hundreds of miles of trail and more off-trail routes to secluded valleys and isolated lakes. During the month of September the Sawtooths are usually dry, with temperatures in the 70s for highs and 30s for lows. Of course snow can fall at any time in this range, and I’ve been in the foothills of these mountains when the mornings were in the low teens. It’s pretty easy to get to the high country in the Sawtooths, the town of Stanley already sits at 6,260 feet and so by walking 5 miles from the Iron Creek trailhead you’re already at a high alpine lake. My walk began at Iron Creek – an early evening start that allowed me to reach a classic Sawtooth lake for my first camp. For the majority of my hike the trail I walked for 55 miles would undulate between timberline and alpine with an occasional dip into a deep valley. After leaving the lake behind, my high valley trail passed numerous tarns, rubble, and a couple small alpine lakes. Walking around the backside of Mount Regan, I soon left the high country and descended into a lowland sage-covered prairie to ford the raging North Fork Baron Creek. In early season this crossing is potentially hazardous, but in late season it’s only a shin-deep wade. A few switchbacks later I’d descend to the lowest point on the hike when I crossed Baron Creek. From here, I began another climb towards a large hanging valley of the Baron Lakes area, which is bordered by the jagged Monte Verita and Warbonnet Peak. I climbed to 9,160-foot Baron Divide for views of my upcoming travels (in the Sawtooths passes are called divides), and then took a 1,700-foot descent down into the forested Redfish Valley where I began my 2,000-foot ascent to the Cramer Lakes under Sevy Peak and the Arrowhead and 9,480-foot Cramer Divide on the shoulder of the Temple. At the lakes I found a scene artist Albert Bierstadt would have loved, with a picturesque waterfall and a backdrop of serrated peaks. Above the lakes to the divide is a walk though glacial moraine amongst fallen boulders and glaciated stone. All the hiking is under the watchful eye of The Temple, a magnificent spire of a mountain. Once I topped Cramer Divide, I recognized that the Sawtooth Range abruptly changes from jagged peaks to more rounded mountains. The land looks softer and more approachable. A quick drop to a beautiful lake brought me to meadows filled with huckleberries. I wish I had camped here, since this was the most beautiful lake I had seen on my hike. My route took me to Edna Lake with its views of majestic Glens Peak. After two more climbs and two more 9,000-foot-plus passes, my path descended into the Yosemite-like Toxaway Valley. A walk west brings you to spectacular Toxaway Lake, but east lowers you into a wide, low, forested plain. After a climb over the shoulder of Parks Peak I descended for the last time to the shoreline’s calm waters of Pettit Lake. My shuttle had moved my vehicle during the hike (as planned) and I was pleased to find my automobile right where expected. Final Thoughts on Hiking the Sawtooths A walk through the spires of the Sawtooths is strenuous and impressive. In late summer be prepared for all sorts of weather. Even though most months bring ample sunshine, I was pummeled by rain for one night on my route. This land has abundant amounts of wildlife and large mammals abound: sheep, goat, bear, cougar, deer, elk, and even a few moose make their way through this wilderness so keep an eye out for them. Bark beetle and fire has devastated the lower lands, but near timberline the trees look healthy and are devoid of much disease. Outside of Idaho the Sawtooths are a lesser known wilderness area, but the land is enchanting and some of the most beautiful I’ve visited. If you start planning a trip here, I have a few more suggestions for you listed below. Need to Know Information Free permits are available at the trailhead and there’s a lot of information online. Camping is allowed most places within the Sawtooth Mountains. Best Time to Go Early summer can have heavy runoff and the stream crossings can be treacherous, and mid-summer can get crowded in the backcountry. I prefer the warm days and cool bug-less nights of early September, but you’ll need to check for possible trail closures due to fire. Getting There Stanley, Idaho is the gateway to the Sawtooth Range, and the Iron Creek road to the trailhead is about 3 miles west of Stanley off of highway 21. My end point at Pettit Lake on Pettit Lake Road is about 20 miles south of Stanley. Maps and Books I used the Sawtooth & White Cloud Mountains Trail Map. Also available is the National Geographic Trails Illustrated 870 map. In regards to books, Trails of the Sawtooth and White Cloud Mountains by Margaret Fuller, published by Trail Guide Books offers hiking suggestions, maps, and trail descriptions. See the Hiking Idaho Falcon Guide for more hiking ideas in the state. All images in this article © David M. Cobb Photography. Editor's Note: This article by contributor David Cobb originally appeared in Issue 11 of TrailGroove Magazine. You can read the original article here for additional photos and content. See more of David’s photography at dmcobbphoto.com.

There’s a geologically interesting Chinese Wall that’s not in China. It is part of the million-plus acre Bob Marshall Wilderness of Montana and consists of a 15-mile, 1000-foot cliff of limestone that runs north to south along the Continental Divide. The last time I hiked along the base of the wall was in mid-June during my hike of the Continental Divide from Canada to Mexico. That time I post-holed through 4-12 feet of snow, so I wanted to return in nicer climes and for the opportunity of better photography. Golden hour light in the Bob Marshall lights up the Chinese Wall. The Bob Marshall Wilderness The Bob Marshall Wilderness (or “The Bob” as it is nicknamed) is named after the founder of the Wilderness Society. An avid hiker of the backcountry, Bob Marshall spent his short life advocating for wilderness – so it’s fitting that his name was attached to the preservation of this land in 1941. On my recent trip to this area in late July, I covered only a small portion of this wilderness, but there are many loops that can be taken from the Chinese Wall through different routes of return. The trailhead begins at the South Fork Sun River near Benchmark, Montana. It stays fairly level for the first 10 miles, undulating through prairie, lodgepole pine forest, and burned areas of the valley. In summer, the fireweed blooms fill the hillsides and can be quite spectacular. Like much of the surrounding area along the north Montana divide, fire has taken its toll as the burnt hillsides attest (on my hike, a grizzly kill had occurred near the trail and warning signs alerted hikers to this fact). I always feel like I’ve entered Dracula’s lair when near a grizzly kill, so I stayed alert and walked quickly past. On my return along the kill site, I followed three grizzly tracks and a black bear sow and cub track which made me quite uncomfortable. After a couple of pack-bridge crossings, the route curves westward along the West Fork of the Sun River. This entire section of trail is part of the Continental Divide National Scenic Trail, so CDT trail markers keep you on course. After passing a backcountry ranger station along the Indian Point Meadows the trail begins to ascend, at first gradually and then steeply northward. After a few last fords of the West Fork Sun River, the trail bends even further westward up Burnt Creek and then switchbacks up to Cliff Pass alongside Cliff Mountain. Views of the “Chinese Wall” begin to appear, and as you reach the pass at 7600 feet the 1000-foot limestone wall extends south and north for many miles. Along the wall the trail undulates for many miles past streams, tarns, and through flower-filled meadows. The mosquitoes were never bad during my trip, but the biting blackflies and horseflies were tiresome. Side trails drop down into drainages and any of these can be taken for a side trip or a longer loop back to your vehicle. My goal was to hike to Larch Hill Pass or Spotted Bear Pass, but a nearby fire closed these areas to me. This large area of the Bob Marshall Wilderness is also a game preserve with no hunting allowed, so wildlife abounds and tracks are everywhere. I spent a couple of days walking around the high country exploring, photographing, and just sitting in the shade reading. My return trip was much better than my initial one along the divide. “The Bob” is a lesser known wilderness area, but quite spectacular in its vastness, and “The Chinese Wall” is a place to visit time and again. Need to Know Information Free permits are available at the trailhead and there is lots of information online. Camping is allowed most places within the wilderness, but some areas may be closed due to overuse, fire, or grizzly bear activity. Best Time to Go June is too early unless you like a lot of wet snow and rain. At this time it’s more like “The Bog” instead of “The Bob.” July is a good time to visit to view the prolific beargrass display and other wildflowers. August is fire season; so many trails may be closed due to forest fires in the area. Getting There From Augusta, Montana follow the Benchmark Road to the west as you and look for the Benchmark Wilderness Ranch signs. Turn left onto the Willow Creek Road, and after a few dusty miles of driving go past the Benchmark Wilderness Ranch and drive onward to the South Fork of Sunriver Trailhead. Maps I used the U.S. Dept. of Agriculture’s Bob Marshall, Great Bear, and Scapegoat Wilderness Complex map from 1990, 1:100,000. National Geographic has subsequently released their Trails Illustrated Bob Marshall Wilderness map and Cairn Cartographics offers a Bob Marshall North as well as a Bob Marshall South map. Books Hiking Montana’s Bob Marshall Wilderness by Erik Molvar, published by Falcon Guides offers hiking suggestions, maps, and elevation guides. An interesting book published by The Mountaineers and authored by James M. Glover is called A Wilderness Original: The Life of Bob Marshall. It is a wonderful read about this iconic man’s life and stewardship of the wild. All images in this article © David M. Cobb Photography. Editor's Note: This article by contributor David Cobb originally appeared in Issue 10 of TrailGroove Magazine. You can read the original article here for additional photos and content. See more of David’s photography at dmcobbphoto.com.

Recently I set out to explore the Seven Devils Wilderness in Idaho and walk a 27-mile loop through those mountains, but a large fire in Hell’s Canyon diverted that plan at the last minute. The Ruby Mountain Wilderness of Nevada had long been on my “to do” list, and this seemed like a good time to change plans and head south. The Rubies were misnamed in the 1800s during the gold rush, when a group of army explorers thought they’d found a range filled with rubies; instead they discovered only garnets. The range is about 60 miles long, with the width being a bit narrow at an average of 11 miles across. The Rubies are also moister than the surrounding basin and range landscape of the high desert, and the summer wildflower display is impressive. The range is covered with healthy stands of lodgepole pine, and on its higher windswept peaks a handful of ancient bristlecone pine. It holds a large herd of mule deer, some elk, mountain goat, bighorn sheep, and the usual predators of cougar, bobcat, and coyote. If you’re lucky, you might also get a rare sighting of the Himalayan Snowcock, transplanted here in the 1960s from Pakistan (the Ruby Mountain range is the only place in North America to view this bird). My real surprise in the Ruby Range was the lack of mosquitoes. Maybe it was the altitude or maybe the surrounding dry desert air, but those pests were not a problem on my trip. The range boasts ten peaks over 10,000 feet, which includes the highpoint of 11,387-foot Ruby Dome. Since the Rubies are a wetter range, the area is also dotted with lakes which hold a number of trout species (including the endangered Lahontan cutthroat trout). I’m told the fish are smaller in the more popular lakes, and quite large in the more inaccessible ones. Backpacking in the Ruby Mountains If you’re interested in hiking the Ruby Mountains, there is the 42-mile Ruby Crest National Recreation Trail which cuts across the range lengthwise. You can either call a guide from nearby Elko, Nevada to shuttle your car to the trailhead or plan a two-car shuttle with a friend. Since my time didn’t allow for a longer backpacking trip, I decided to head for the lake country at the end of the glacially carved Lamoille Canyon (this range’s equivalent of the Yosemite Valley). The drive up Lamoille Canyon to the trailhead is beautiful; aspen line the streambeds and peaks jut out from the ridgelines above. A slow ascent brings you to 6,725 feet and the parking lot trailhead at the end of the Lamoille Canyon Road. From here it’s a gradual climb to 10,450-foot Liberty Pass, and if you’ve come from sea level like I did the breathing will get tougher as you go. Before Liberty Pass you’re still not in wilderness, so watch out for mountain bikes bombing the trail past backpackers, day hikers, and families with children. Unfortunately I’ve only seen bikers yield to hikers twice in all my thousands of miles of backpacking. At Liberty Pass you say goodbye to the canyon behind, and look out towards Lake Peak across a valley and scenic Liberty Lake below. You might choose to stop here and camp to avoid an afternoon thunderstorm or just to stay high to acclimate to the new-found elevation. If you need to descend, you’ll reach Favre Lake in another mile and a half, or you can climb from there cross-country to Castle Lake which sits in a beautiful cirque of mountains. Once you cross Liberty Pass, you enter the Ruby Mountain Wilderness and leave most day hikers behind as your solitude increases. From Liberty Pass, you can also climb and travel cross-country anywhere you wish. I found the rock of the area to have a firm grip on hiking shoes and cross-country routes and passes abound. I chose to stay in the lake basin photographing the landscapes and wildflowers of the lush high country. Travelling onward the Ruby Crest Trail drops and then ascends to Wines Pass, then drops to North Furlong Lake sitting below a crest of mountains. I had planned on climbing the Ruby Crest Trail over 10,892-feet Wines Peak and onward along a high ridge walk of the Ruby Mountains, but stormy weather bringing heavy rains, lightning, and dime-sized hail put the kibosh on that. Instead I waded into North Furlong Lake for some photography, where I found my legs covered with leeches. A bit of medieval doctoring I guess. For the return route I just reversed the way I came, stopping at different lakes on the way. There are a number of loops you can take in the Rubies, and some trail access routes are more difficult than others. Many of the four-wheel-drive roads are accessible in drier times, but once it rains the road mud can become slick and treacherous. If you’re planning to hike the 42-mile Ruby Crest National Recreation Trail, plan on parking at the Lamoille Canyon Parking lot and leaving another car or shuttle at Harrison Pass along Route 57. Much of the trail features ridge walks and high passes; afternoon thunderstorms are common and I planned any hiking that traversed these areas for morning. For maps I used the Ruby Mountains and East Humboldt Wildernesses map, published by the Humboldt National Forest. Both the Forest Service and BLM offices in Elko, Nevada were closed when I arrived Saturday afternoon and they weren’t due to open again until Monday, and no retail outlets in Elko carried topo maps either. I bummed my map off some hikers finishing their trip (maybe purchasing your topo maps online would be a better option). Final Thoughts on the Ruby Mountains The Ruby Mountain range is an impressive site. Scenes like this are usually reserved for states like Montana, Wyoming, and California – but rarely Nevada. I’ve heard Nevada called the “poor man’s Alaska” and this state contains more than meets the eye. My guess is the Ruby Mountains could be the “crown-jewel” of the Great Basin Desert, an area that includes Great Basin National Park in Nevada, the Steens Mountains of Oregon, and the Book Cliffs of Utah. These are all beautiful places I’ve explored and visited, but the Rubies are truly a gem. Need to Know Information The U.S. Forest Service site for the Ruby Mountains can be found here. Best Time to Go Peak time for the Rubies is July 1 - August 31, but September can be nice for fall aspen color in Lamoille Canyon. Getting There: From Elko, Nevada take Hwy. 227 (Lamoille Hwy.) toward the Ruby Mountains. Before the town of Lamoille turn right on NF 660 up Lamoille Canyon to the trailhead. Maps and Books Ruby Mountains and East Humboldt Wildernesses map. For getting to and from the trailhead and exploring other Nevada hiking destinations, an atlas like the Nevada Benchmark Atlas can be useful. For books on hiking in the area and Nevada see 50 Classic Hikes Nevada: From the Ruby Mountains to Red Rock Canyon as well as Hiking Nevada, a Falcon Guide. All images in this article © David M. Cobb Photography. Editor's Note: This article by contributor David Cobb originally appeared in Issue 18 of TrailGroove Magazine. You can read the original article here for additional photos and content. See more of David’s photography at dmcobbphoto.com.

Nature has a rhythm. The snows covers the landscape in winter. There is beauty to be found, but the beauty is a cold, ethereal one. A landscape with a palette of a few colors. Green trees, white snow, brown grass, gray rocks, and blue skies. But then the snow starts to melt. The mountain streams grow from a bare trickle to a steady flow and then become a raging torrent. The birds are making their morning calls more frequently. Old man of the mountain wildflowers gracing the high country. Wildflower Season Begins A fragrant smell is in the air. New colors appear in Nature’s palette. Vibrant colors start dotting the landscape. Trees bud and then leaf. A vivid color of green starts to appear in the mountain and hillside meadows. The streamsides, forests, and even the plains start teeming with splashes of color. The aptly named pasque flowers are often seen first. Their delicate lavender seeming to fit well with our holidays associated with spring. And the sand lilies soon appear as well. The delicate white flowers, dark green leaves, and yellow styles are a contrast to the white, gray, and brown colors seen just a few weeks earlier. Even the desert seems to rejoice in the turning of winter and the start of spring. The red rocks and brown sands start to have colors not usually associated with the harsh landscape. A dark red claret flower or the pink blooms of other cacti give testimony that even in harsh environments, life can flourish and be beautiful. And, soon, even the high mountains start to shed their winter cloak and don a much more colorful one. Spring has come. Summer is now here. The blue columbines are a direct contrast to the still snow-covered mountains above. And, incongruously, glacier lilies are often seen blooming bright yellow in the very snow that is rapidly melting. Seems the mountains almost have a patchwork quilt over them. Bright red flowers, yellow-orange “old man of the mountain” are found in the high passes. Countless colors are seen with pinks, purples, reds, blues, and yellows reaching even up the summits of the mountains themselves. The world is alive. But summer is brief in the mountains. Soon a chill is felt in the air at night. The flowers retreat with perhaps a few stalwart harebells standing testimony to the season that is rapidly passing. They are in slumber until next spring and summer. Frost is starting to appear on the ground. A slight damp smell is noticed in the air. A new cloak is worn. The russet and golds of autumn are displayed. The cycle is repeated until next spring. The wildflower season in the backcountry is brief and beautiful. And one to rejoice in. More Information As beautiful as it is to look at wildflowers, knowing their names is much like getting to know the names of strangers that will become friends. While saying, half-jokingly, “little yellow flower” or “yet another red one”, knowing the names of wildflowers can add much richness to a backcountry experience. Many regions and states have wildflower guides organized by color that makes for easy identification. These books are often small enough to fit into a good sized cargo pocket. My favorite for Colorado is the Rocky Mountain Wildflowers Pocket Guide by David Dahms. A constant companion for me on day hikes and often found by my side when going over my post-trip photos. Many copies can be found online for less than five dollars with shipping included. Other states should have similar books available. Additional titles for this area include The Best Front Range Wildflower Hikes as well as Wildflowers of Utah's Colorado Plateau. For more easterly and central hikers, see A Peterson Field Guide To Wildflowers: Northeastern and North-central North America. Editor's Note: This article by contributor Paul Magnanti originally appeared in Issue 22 of TrailGroove Magazine. You can read the original article here for additional photos and content.

Something is evoked in people when they envision hiking in the Southwestern United States. The unique and remote terrain triggers that wanderlust for exploration in remote and untouched places that few travel. There is that excitement and fear of the terrain and elements mixed with the calm and clarity of the scenery. In the late 90s, two men who had a great affinity for the Southwest, Mike Coronella and Joe Mitchell, wanted to do something that would encourage more to venture to those hard to reach places and explore. They decided to create a route that would connect the best of the Southwest in one continuous 800mi thru-hike. The result of their efforts is a backcountry route now known as the Hayduke Trail. The guidebook was released in 2005. Maybe a handful to a dozen or more attempted to thru-hike the Hayduke each spring and fall the first decade. Now, as more have completed a Hayduke thru-hike, word has spread and much of the fear of the unknown has been dispelled. Those seeking more remote and challenging experiences are now turning to the Hayduke as numbers are growing and a couple dozen are heading out each spring and fall. I was one of those hikers in 2015 and this is an overview of my experience over two months hiking from the National Parks of Arches to Zion through Canyonlands, Capitol Reef, Bryce Canyon, and Grand Canyon National Park. Hayduke Trail Overview To understand the Hayduke Trail, it’s important to understand its namesake. George Washington Hayduke is a fictional character in Edward Abbey’s 1975 novel The Monkey Wrench Gang, set in the Colorado Plateau. Those not familiar with Abbey’s work and his influence should know he was deeply passionate about the deserts of the Southwest. The Hayduke is a route, not a trail. Unlike other well-known long distance trails in the U.S., the Hayduke is not signed in any way. The route does connect many well-known and traveled trails, but between those trails is much remote backcountry travel through washes, canyons, rivers, and dirt roads. There is often scrambling required (our route had one class 4 chimney climb) and we had some exposure along the trail as well. If we were to get hurt or need assistance, there is not a high chance that another person would walk by, or that there would be an immediate exit to civilization. Yes, this all comes off as quite intimidating and daunting. That is why so few have chosen to hike the Hayduke Trail. There is more mystery and suspense around the Hayduke Trail than most other trails given how few have fully hiked it. Reading and hearing experiences from previous Haydukers makes the endeavor more realistic and approachable. My goal here is to hopefully lift that veil over the Hayduke and show that it isn’t as unattainable as many may think. I will honestly say that the Hayduke is not a comfortable trail to hike. Mostly due to the discomforts that are inherent to desert hiking. The most influential element in hiking in the desert is water. It will dictate the pace and daily schedule of each day. Long water carries are to be expected along the Hayduke Trail and they become the new normal. If a carry is less than 4L, that is to be celebrated. Once the long carries are accepted mentally as a given, the body seems to follow. By no means will the carries become comfortable, but they are just part of the overall discomfort that comes with hiking the Hayduke. The Hayduke Trail in Arches National Park. Water on the Hayduke Trail There is a data book for the Hayduke Trail that helps with knowing where water can be found and the chances of water actually existing at those sources. Unfortunately, there are a lot of maybe sources that have you either gambling that they will be flowing, or carrying extra in case the source is dry. Another fun factor in this is the alkalinity of the water in many of the sources. There are a lot of minerals in the water and there is nothing that can be done to change or avoid alkaline water. So not only is the weight a discomfort, but the water is not the cool quenching relief you’ll crave. Each hiker has their own reaction to alkaline water and my stomach was not a fan. I learned to carry more of non-alkaline water when I knew I was approaching an alkaline source as the level is mentioned in the data book notes. In addition to the long water carries, there are often long food carries along the Hayduke. Six to ten day legs are common and combining that with heavy water carries can make the simplest of hiking uncomfortable. Fortunately, there is a way to minimize carries along the Hayduke. There are many places for hikers to cache food and water for themselves and I wish I had chosen that option. I had a pride in not caching and later came to realize that caching in the field is not different than my cache (in the form of a package) waiting for me at a post office. Those that cached could be on a more relaxed schedule and were not pushing big miles with unnecessarily heavy packs to make it to the next water source or town. That would be the biggest lesson I wish I had learned before taking on the Hayduke and I do think that it would have greatly impacted my overall enjoyment and comfort along the trail had I cached. In Canyon Country Hayduke Highlights Now that I’ve realistically laid out the not-so-great parts, I do want to say that the Hayduke Trail is jam packed with an amazing variety of hiking! There were countless days where I felt like I’d had three different hiking days in one given the vastly varied terrain and experiences. There are canyons filled with boulders, washes with deep sand, slickrock to speed over, pour-offs filled with water to slide into, steep scrambles in/out canyons, road walking of all sorts, wading in rivers for miles, hitching a raft across the Colorado River in the Grand Canyon, quicksand in water so murky you can’t see the bottom, slot canyons so narrow you can reach out and touch both sides, ruins and petroglyphs from ancient inhabitants…just uniquely amazing experiences that make it all worth it at the end of the day. There are many highlights along the Hayduke and the popular alternates that can be reached as a day hike or weekend venture. Some of the main ones that come to mind are Devil’s Garden in Arches, Peekaboo Trail and Dark Canyon in Canyonlands, the 11,419’ highpoint of Mt. Ellen in the Henry Mountains, Lower Muley Twist Canyon in Capitol Reef, Coyote Gulch in Glen Canyon, Round Valley Draw, Hackberry Canyon, Bryce Canyon, Buckskin Gulch, Grand Canyon, and Zion. In Canyonlands National Park Navigation Many prospective hikers ask about navigation. The Hayduke is a unique kind of “choose your own adventure” type of experience with many alternates and ways to make each hike unique. There was even a pair of brothers also out last spring that were out for three months, no phone, no gps, and no towns. They cached the whole way to avoid going into town and basically worked off the descriptions in the guidebook to help with navigation with a compass and overview maps of the area. For those seeking more beta, there is a wealth of info and even a gps track available online to assist those wanting a backup to map and compass. Be aware that it is more time consuming to navigate solely by map and compass and to factor in that extra time if that’s your preference. Following the Arizona Trail section of the Hayduke Trail. Final Thoughts on the Hayduke Trail Given all of this, it’s safe to say that 2-3 months along the Hayduke is not feasible nor desirable for most people. The good news is that the Hayduke guidebook does a great job of splitting the trail into 14 sections that can be done in any order or just to pick and choose parts. It’s a great way to get out and have that experience that Edward Abbey so encouraged others to seek. Experience the Southwest as it’s intended. Get out of the car, hike in a bit, and get scratched up. Invoke the inner Hayduke that lies within all of us and have fun exploring. Need to Know Information Head over to hayduketrail.org for links to Hayduke resources and previous hiker journals. The Hayduke goes through 6 National Parks, so permits and reservations are a more significant factor in planning than most other trails. The priority for most thru-hikers is obtaining the Grand Canyon Permit as early as possible before they fill up. Permits are also needed for the other 5 National Parks, but some require purchase in person. All part of the fun of hiking the Hayduke! Getting There Most start the Hayduke Trail at Arches National Park and walk westbound. There are multiple start locations. The Klondike Bluffs Trailhead is even an easy 8 mile hike directly from the Moab Airport. The trailhead is also just 30 minutes from Moab, UT on BLM 142/Klondike Bluffs Rd off US-191 North. Best Time to Go The most ideal window to complete a 2-3 month full thru-hike of the Hayduke is in the Spring (~March-June) and Fall (~Sept-Dec). Maps & Books The original guidebook for the Hayduke is The Hayduke Trail: A Guide to the Backcountry Hiking Trail on the Colorado Plateau. USGS topos can be utilized to navigate and for getting to and from the trail and for big picture navigation, the applicable sections of the Delorme Arizona Atlas & Gazetteer as well as their Utah Atlas can be useful. The Author Erin “Wired” Saver is a long distance backpacking blogger that has hiked over 10,000 miles since 2011 including hiking’s Triple Crown (Pacific Crest Trail, Continental Divide Trail, and the Appalachian Trail). She is well known for her detailed daily hiking journals that can be found on her blog at walkingwithwired.com. Editor's Note: This article by contributor Erin "Wired" Saver originally appeared in Issue 26 of TrailGroove Magazine. You can read the original article here for additional photos and content.

Whether you’ve decided to take your first winter trip, or you’re just trying to extend your summer camping in the shoulder months, staying warm during the winter months requires some additional thought when compared to 3-season conditions. Winter and shoulder season adventures are great because areas that are normally very busy in the summer will be empty, and you can experience a new season of adventure. The following is the way I keep warm on my winter adventures in the mountain west, as well as thoughts on winter backpacking gear. Before looking at what to wear, remember that cotton clothing and sweat (no matter the type of clothing) are best avoided in winter. Cotton is a negative insulator and should not be used, but sweat in winter is even worse. I always remove clothing if I'm overheating before I start to sweat, and then add some insulation when I start to get chilled. For active sports in the winter like hiking and climbing, layering is vital to achieving this. Winter clothing requires some additions and additional considerations when compared to more typical 3-season layering systems. Winter Hiking Clothing Winter Base Layers A base layer is first, and will stay on all day and sometimes all night. I use a 250 g/m2 merino wool tights for a base-layer bottom, and a 195 g/m2 merino wool semi-fit hoody for my top. Synthetic base-layers will also work, but I have always preferred wool for the next to skin feel and the lack of smell after a long day or multiple days of use. Mid Layer The next layer is a thin mid-layer. Unless conditions are especially cold, I won’t wear a mid-layer on my legs, but if I do I wear a 100 weight fleece to add to the base layer’s warmth. For the top I will wear a quality 100 weight fleece pullover as I find fleece to be great as it stretches with you and is easy to layer. If you tend to run cold, a heavier weight fleece might be a better option. Outer Shell My last main layer is a shell. A shell is an important layer in regards to helping with windchill and potential precipitation. I always wear a softshell pant since they have enough stretch to accommodate a full range of motion and still keep my legs dry and warm. My legs are also doing most of the work on my hikes, and thus run hotter than the rest of my body, so the extra breathability of the softshell will help with venting. Softshells also insulate, so a softshell under a hardshell is not unheard of, and in very wet conditions a hardshell pant will be necessary. For my top I tend to use a waterproof-breathable hooded hardshell jacket. My upper body is much more exposed to the elements, so I would rather use a fully waterproof, and subsequently windproof shell, and a well-made hardshell should allow for a full range of motion. The 4th Layer For especially cold days, a 4th layer will be needed. I use a synthetic fill puffy jacket for this 4th layer, and for active sports I prefer synthetic over down for since they won’t lose their warmth if they get wet, but down is great too (see down vs. synthetic insulation). A high end synthetic will almost be as warm for the weight as a down jacket, and will pack down almost as well. I will layer the puffy over the fleece and underneath the shell since puffy jackets are not as wind, water, and abrasion resistant as the shell jacket. Insulated pants are also available too, and consider side zip pants to make switching layers easier. A lightweight beanie, combined with a hardshell hood when needed can form a versatile layering system. Head Gear For my head, a simple visor and a lightweight fleece beanie hat is my go to for head warmth. While hiking on a nice day, I will just wear the visor since I will want to dump heat and keep myself from sweating, and then when my head gets cold, I will add the beanie with the visor so I still get the sun protection while keeping my head warm. Wind chill on the face may be a factor, and a simple large neck gaiter that can be worn over the face will work to keep my face warm in most conditions. If it is very cold, the hood from my jacket will provide a wind blocker, and a heavier fleece balaclava will keep the rest of my face and head warm. While hiking in the snow, snow blindness may become an issue as the snow reflects a massive amount of light that can burn the corneas of the eyes. Darker sunglasses or glacier glasses will work, but so will snow goggles. Goggles will also keep your face warmer, so I will bring goggles on colder, windy trips. Hands Hands will really depend on how well you do with the cold and how cold it actually will be. I never use disposable heater packs since they are not reliable. For my hands I will bring a pair of gloves that will keep my hands warm while not so warm that they will sweat, and I always bring a second pair in case to the first pair gets soaked. Also, if you ever take off your gloves and they are in any way wet, stick them inside of your jacket instead of in your pack. If you stick them in your pack, they will freeze solid, and will take a while to thaw out, where keeping them in your jacket will keep them warm. Mittens will work better if it’s very cold out and you don’t mind the loss of dexterity, but for what I do I prefer gloves. Hands (and feet) can offer the first indication of getting a chill – when this happens in addition to adding layers, staying active (hiking faster, jumping jacks, squats, etc.) can help add some quick heat. Feet Lastly, feet are fairly easy to keep warm with a good system. If it’s very cold and snowy, a waterproof insulated boot is needed, and a double boot with a removable inner section is great on multi day trips since you can wear the inner bootie in your sleeping bag at night. In milder conditions, an uninsulated boot may work. Socks should be worn to make the boot fit, not to add to the insulation of the boot. A common mistake is to wear too thick of a sock thinking it will be warmer, which then compresses your foot inside of your boot, reducing circulation and making your feet cold. For my boots, I size them to work with two layers of thin wool socks and a vapor barrier sock in-between those two layers. The vapor barrier keeps my feet even warmer by eliminating evaporative heat loss from my foot, and keeps the inside of my boot dry. A gaiter is always used (see our guide to hiking & backpacking gaiters), and I prefer a gaiter that fits tightly around the boot and pant to keep snow out and heat in. Some pants have a gaiter built in, but I find they don’t work as well. A good gaiter also protects your pants from getting caught and ripped by crampons or MICROSpikes if you are using them. If your boots get wet, use your sleeping bag stuff sack as a dry bag, and sleep with your boots. This will keep them from freezing up overnight, and help the next day. While some 3-season clothing can be utilized, additional cold weather items are needed to form a workable winter clothing system. Winter Backpacking Gear Sleeping Bags, Pads, Shelter, & Packs After you have figured out your layering system to keep you warm, picking out your equipment is the next step to successful winter camping. Parts of my summer setup stay the same in winter, like my toiletries kits. A warmer sleeping bag will be used that will match the expected lows, and if I don’t have a bag warm enough to work in the temperatures I will expect, I will double up on sleeping bags to make a bag that is warm enough. I typically take a sleeping pad system with an r-value of 4-6, and using a closed cell foam pad under my summer air pad is an easy and cheap way to do so since r-values are additive when you layer pads. For more on sleeping bags and pads you can refer to this guide to sleeping bags as well as this article on backpacking sleeping pads. I use a single wall 4-season tent (how to choose a backpacking tent) that I can seal completely to keep the wind and snow out. Snow shelters, like igloos and quinzhees, are a fun way to camp in the winter, and a well built one will be warmer than any tent. A larger volume backpack may be needed in winter because the gear will be bulkier, but not necessarily if you’re careful about how you pack. My go to weekend winter pack is a 38L frameless pack, but that is on the smaller side of the scale and many prefer packs of 60L+ for winter. Stoves A stove will depend on the length of trip and the temperatures that I expect. If I can have easy access to running water during the trip, then a canister stove will work. The canister can be placed into a small bowl of water while running, which will keep the canister above 32 degrees and allow it to burn all of the isobutane. If it will be much colder than 32 degrees with no running water, I will bring a liquid gas stove that runs off unleaded regular gas for cooking. Higher octane premium gas should not be used due to its hotter flash point and if you have some white gas, it will run cleaner with less soot than regular unleaded gas. Some stoves will even run off of diesel, kerosene, and jet fuel, but unless you drive a diesel, using those kinds of fuels are not common in the United States. Wood stoves will work in the winter if you search for dry deadwood in sheltered spots. If going this route, I always bring fire starter for the wood stove. For convenience, some even bring no-cook foods for winter trips, but a hot meal can be valuable on a cold evening and a stove is always valuable for melting snow and more. An inverted canister stove, such as the MSR WindPro II is another option in winter. You can read this guide to backpacking stoves for more on stoves across the seasons. Water in Winter For water, hydration packs will work, but even insulated hoses can freeze up, and bite valves will freeze easily. While I am hiking I always stick my bite valve in my jacket, and I have gotten in the habit of clearing my hose by blowing the water back into the reservoir since it is unlikely my reservoir will freeze in my pack. In especially cold conditions, a hard sided Nalgene bottle in an insulated holder is the only way to keep water from freezing, and sleeping with your water is necessary at night (full article: how to keep water from freezing in winter). Melting snow may be necessary on some trips, but on shorter trips I just carry my water in or find flowing water. However, chemicals do not work as well in cold water, filters can freeze if not carefully dried and stored, and UV lights can take additional time to get up to operational output. Winter offers a unique perspective on the outdoors and offers an experience completely unlike the other 3 seasons. In Conclusion Winter can be a challenge, but with a few tweaks to your clothing, gear, and overall mindset hiking and backpacking in the cold can be an approachable and enjoyable experience. And while the coming arrival of spring will surely be appreciated in hiking circles all around, there’s no reason to wait when you can fight the winter blues and hit the trail now. In the end, there is no replacement for getting out there and figuring out what works for you. Everyone will have different opinions and systems that work. Even though the winter may be a bit more challenging, many memorable trips have happened during the snowy season, and the experience can be rewarding and enjoyable. Editor's Note: This trail tip by Ted "tmountainnut" Ehrlich originally appeared in Issues 11 & 12 of TrailGroove Magazine. You can read part 1 here and find the second installment here. For additional reading you can also see our winter backpacking guide in Issue 26.

One-by-one we traversed the narrow cut in the cliff, careful to lean to the right in case we slipped – the steep drop-off on our left plunged over a hundred feet to the valley floor. The sun had already set behind the western Cascades, painting the sky a burning red but leaving our trail in rapidly increasing darkness. That we were struggling to remain upright on our cross-country skis on even the slightest descent made each step even more nerve-racking. By the time we traversed the top of the cliff and returned to open terrain, there was no question of setting up camp immediately and starting on dinner in the dark. The experience was a far cry from the relaxed ski tour around Crater Lake that we had planned. Looking back, it was plain to see how our problems had compounded themselves to this point. The original plan was to spend three days cross-country skiing the 33-mile loop around the rim of Crater Lake, which seemed an easy feat for our group – Josh and Tim were seasoned cross-country skiers, while Sarah and I were strong athletes with mountaineering experience. But after five-plus hour drives for us all to reach the lake, the permit process, and having to shuttle gear to the rim, we didn’t set out until after 4pm on our first day. With only four hours to sunset, we still planned on making at least eight miles moving quickly on our skis before dark. A Difficult Journey What we did not account for in all our combined experience was a complete lack of balance. Sarah and I struggled on our narrow cross-country skis, face-planting after picking up speed on even the most minor downhills – of which there were plenty, thanks to snowdrifts across the route. Our heavy packs made the matter worse. Every flail instantly gained momentum, and struggling back to our feet after a crash with the weighted pack on felt like a Herculean task. Still, we were feeling excited about the journey and overly confident until we reached The Watchman. The peak buttresses the lake, standing nearly 1,000 feet above the rim road, and is the first obstacle along the rim road that presents a real danger to skiers. We had been warned by the ranger that the road was impassable on the far side where it cut into the mountain above the cliffs, and so we started the climb up and over the mountain. The climb was brutal, requiring kick-turning in our skis while holding ourselves up on our poles to avoid slipping. It took over an hour to reach the top – a negligible amount of distance covered relative to our 33-mile route – and once there we found ourselves staring at a steep wall of snow. Not only could I not imagine myself skiing down it in cross-country skis without falling dangerously, but the face also showed signs of recent avalanche activity. After a lengthy debate pitting fatigue against safety, we decided to descend back to the road and try our luck with the “impassable” road cut. The descent was even worse than the climb. Sarah and I floundered in our narrow skis, unable to move more than a few feet without losing balance and expending tremendous energy to get back up. The experience was cold, frustrating, and, most of all, concerning – what if we hit similarly mountainous terrain halfway around the lake late the next day, when turning back was no longer an option? Thankfully, the road cut proved uncomfortable, yet passable, and after setting camp we were all ready to pass out in our tents. Of course, the lake would not allow us to rest so quickly. After a day so still that reflections were visible in the lake, the wind began howling over the rim as soon as we climbed into our sleeping bags. Although the tents held, their violent shaking all night prevented any of us from sleeping. Even worse, we awoke in the morning in a cloud with snow coming down around us. Enthusiasm for continuing was so low that we lingered in camp late into the morning. With the snow still falling and all of us exhausted from the previous evening’s unexpected difficulties, the question we had to answer was whether we were still attempting to make it around the lake. We had little information to go off of except warnings of a significant storm expected to roll in late on our third day and the knowledge that most of the elevation gain and loss was on the east side of the lake. The combination was especially worrying, since we would be beyond the turnaround point if we ran into more difficulty climbing and descending there like we had on The Watchman. More tortuously slow climbs and descents meant the possibility of taking longer to complete the loop and getting caught in the storm. Ultimately, we decided to split the group – Tim and I would continue on, covering as much ground as we could that day, while Josh and Sarah would turn back and meet us at the end of the loop the following morning. Neither Tim nor I wanted to think about the sufferfest we had just signed on for. In continuing, we committed ourselves to covering almost 30 miles and most of the park’s elevation change in just a day and a half. Once we said our goodbyes, we began moving – and didn’t stop. We reached the north side of the lake by early afternoon and found ourselves in a sea of snowdrifts, each of which required climbing and descending in miniature. Oddly enough, the road was exposed in some places, revealing these drifts to be upwards of 20 feet high. Meanwhile, the beauty of snow-covered Crater Lake was a constant fixture to our right, and even taking brief moments to stop and enjoy it made the day’s effort worthwhile. The real challenge came late in the afternoon when we reached the climb to Cloudcap, the highest point on the rim road. The climb was a long haul – 1,000 feet over 4 miles of road, and with the snow turned to slush in the afternoon sun the going was slow. It was clear that both Tim and I were flagging by this point, and the knowledge that we had to cover at least 5 miles beyond the Cloudcap summit was no comfort. Sluggishly, and with frequent stops, we made our way up. The relief was palpable when we reached the summit, both Tim and I celebrating the end of the most difficult part of the loop. Meanwhile, the views almost made up for our burning legs: Mount Scott towered above the road, while the view over the lake revealed the Phantom Ship sticking out above the lake’s icy surface. From Cloudcap, we skied downhill through slushy snow all the way to our final checkpoint for the day. Leaving the rim road, which was covered in avalanche runout just ahead, we turned down the Pinnacles road and found a place to camp in the woods. The sun was just setting as we set up the tent and began heating water to rehydrate. Our water source was snow, and just heating enough of it for dinner and to refill our water bottles took over two hours of continuous re-filling of Tim’s Jetboil. As soon as that was done, we crashed into our sleeping bags and waited for the throbbing in our legs to recede. A Journey Concludes...Eventually When my alarm went off in the dark early the next morning, I felt so tired that it took me a moment to remember where we were – and then I groaned with the realization that we still had ten miles to ski. Our boots had frozen solid in the night, so Tim and I made quick work of breaking camp and headed back onto the road in an effort to keep our feet warm. With the sun ahead of us, the first two miles was blissful: downhill, on frozen snow, our skis gliding effortlessly. We laughed with a pang of regret, realizing that we could have camped at Cloudcap the previous night and glided all the way downhill to this point rather than fighting our way down through late-afternoon slush. Of course, we had to pay for that downhill glide. The next five miles, still part of our detour around the avalanche zones on the rim road, was reminiscent of the climb to Cloudcap. It seemed never-ending, made worse by the fact that the scales underneath my skis struggled to find grip on the frozen snow. Unlike the Cloudcap struggle, however, reaching the top of this hill and returning to the rim road meant we had only an hour left in our journey. The rim road seemed luxurious relative to the route we had just taken since, this close to the visitor center, it was filled with the tracks of day-skiers. Several of them stopped to ask us about our trip and congratulate us on the feat, which was another boost to our feeling of victory after the past two days. Best of all, with just half a mile to go we found Josh headed towards us on the trail to guide us in. With legs nearing collapse, we had completed our journey around Crater Lake. Need to Know Information Free backcountry permits are required, available at the ranger station next to the visitor center below the rim. Route finding and avalanche safety skills may be necessary. Detours around avalanche-prone areas are marked on the park maps. Best Time to Go The rim road is covered in snow by the end of November in most years, but typically March-early June offer a better chance at clear weather. The lake is often not visible on stormy days. The eastern portion of the rim road is usually skiable until early July. Getting There Only the park’s south entrance, off Highway 62, is open from November-June. There is no overnight parking at the rim. We hitched a ride from the visitor center to the rim. Maps and Books Trails Illustrated Crater Lake National Park map. Maps of avalanche detour routes are available at the ranger station. More information regarding the trails of the park throughout the seasons can be found in the Trails of Crater Lake National Park & Oregon Caves National Monument guidebook. For more general mapping and getting to and from trailheads the Oregon Benchmark Atlas can be useful. Editor's Note: This article by contributor Michael Graw originally appeared in Issue 34 of TrailGroove Magazine. You can read the original article here for additional photos and content.

In backpacking circles, shoulder season refers to the time of season between the full peak (summer) and off season (winter) hiking periods. Shoulder season timing varies by region. In the fall, warm care-free summer days are gone and likely replaced by crisp, but often pleasant shorter days with nighttime temperatures calling for that warmer sleeping bag you may have stashed away for the summer. Sudden cold snaps aren’t uncommon, and in many parts of the country, you can encounter significant snow, then warming and melt cycles. Shoulder season hiking can bring a wide variety of weather and anything from warm to chilly temperatures. Shoulder Season in Spring In the spring, winter still holds its grip on the land and in colder parts of the country the ground in many places will still be covered with a season’s worth of slowly melting snow. Spring is beginning to show itself and winter might be over, but it also might not be…the weather could surprise with a late-season snow storm as well. Overall, shoulder season often calls for a blend of summer and winter gear with most hiking through pleasant daytime temperatures and crisper nights, but with a dose of unpredictability thrown in to make things interesting. Though not quite full on winter, shoulder season may just be the time of the year to get that hot water bottle going at night and would be a great time of the year to add in those down booties you might have left behind on summer trips, and perhaps along with some hand warmers as well. Editor's Note: This article originally appeared in Issue 11 of TrailGroove Magazine. You can read the original article here.

If you’re traveling on California Highway 395 along the striking escarpment on the eastern side of the Sierra Nevada south of Yosemite and looking for a high-elevation hike deep in the heart of the mountains, but you only have a day or less, various roads off the main highway take you up to trailheads between 8,000 and 10,000 feet quite easily and quickly where you’re immediately immersed in stunning alpine scenery. For example, out of the town of Bishop, you can take Highway 168 straight to the Sabrina Lake Trailhead at about 9,100 feet, or turn off on South Lake Road to reach the Bishop Pass Trailhead at about 9,800 feet, or turn off on North Lake Road to reach the North Lake Trailhead at about 9,300 feet. Or, out of the tiny resort of Tom’s Place, you can take Rock Creek Road up to multiple trailheads between 9,000 and over 10,000 feet. Other roads to high elevation trailheads in the region can be found near Big Pine, Lone Pine, and Mammoth Lakes. Every one of these locations offers many hiking options to serene wilderness lakes and valleys surrounded by spectacular peaks, whether shorter trails or portions of longer trails. Possibilities abound. But what if your time is limited to just a few hours? When mine was limited one late September day in 2018, I decided to drive to the highest elevation trailhead in the Rock Creek area at 10,300 feet and from there hike an out-and-back on the Little Lakes Valley Trail. I would complete the hike in under three hours including plenty of stops to fill my eyes with skyscraping granite and crystalline waters. To the Little Lakes Valley Trail Turning off Highway 395 at Tom’s Place, I drove up Rock Creek Road, gaining 3000-plus feet in ten miles, to the Mosquito Flat parking lot, where the road ends and the trail starts. This drive would be superb at any time, but in early fall it was ablaze with fluttering leaves of aspen trees turned bright yellows and oranges. You know a hike is off to a great start when the drive itself becomes worth the trip all on its own. The road is paved and in excellent condition. However, for the last mile or so, beyond Rock Creek Lake, it narrows to a single lane, often without much if any shoulder. On my way out, coming down one of the narrowest stretches, I managed to gingerly squeak by an SUV in my Honda Civic with little more than an inch to spare. Had we both been driving SUVs, I would have been forced to back up more than a few feet. I’ve seen Rock Creek Road described as a “precipitous ascent” and a “steep and narrow zigzag” with “hairpin switchbacks,” which might give some people pause. But, as one who doesn’t particularly relish treacherous mountain roads, I found Rock Creek Road totally comfortable, with moderate curves and no extended ultra-sharp grades or long stretches of drop-offs. I found it more than sufficiently wide until the last portion, and even then, with my cautious driving, the narrowness was just more inconvenient than anything. Although Mosquito Flat has plenty of parking, the lot closest to the trail fills up early, particularly in summer, although parking can’t be taken for granted in the off season either. Arriving around 9:15 a.m., I was lucky to get the last parking space, and, as I walked the short distance from my car to the trailhead, I saw several cars come in and turn around. Hopefully they had better luck at the overflow parking lots about a quarter to a third of a mile down the road. And, given the narrowness of the road, signs forbid parking along the side, but later, when leaving, I noticed several instances where those signs had been ignored. Not right, but not surprising, given the beauty of the area, that people are reluctant to abandon their plans. A John Muir Wilderness Hike Begins At the start of the trail, a steady stream of hikers slowly treaded up the rocky initial ascent, creating the sort of “traffic jam” I associate more with national park trails. But soon enough, everyone naturally spread out and the trail opened up. From then on, I felt no crowding. In fact, often, over the course of the hike, I encountered no one. Not far beyond the initial ascent, the first lake was visible through a thin cluster of trees, morning sunlight shimmering over its surface. Although it beckoned, I continued on and soon arrived at another lake, where I couldn’t resist taking the short side trail to see it up close. Across the gently rippling lake surrounded by caramel-colored grasses, slopes of evergreens rose toward the tree line and triangular light gray peaks reached into the blue sky where a few diaphanous clouds were coming in. No one else was around, and I felt privileged to have the place to myself. Had this been late spring or early summer, I might have been fishing in my backpack for insect repellent, but it being September, not a single mosquito whined by. The next lake seemed to be a common resting place or end point for those wanting a shorter walk, with a small beach as a bonus. Again, I took the side trail over to its shore, joining several friendly hikers. Two men told me they’d come up this trail earlier in the year, and would never have known, by observation alone, that a lake was there. The lake had still been frozen and completely covered in snow, blending in seamlessly with its surroundings, and walking beyond this point had been impossible. Not quite as far back in the year as I might have guessed, as their trip had been at the end of May. A reminder that, for higher elevation hikes, especially in non-summer months, to check on conditions before starting out. Dogs are allowed on the trail, which undoubtedly adds to its popularity, and at this particular lake I noticed quite a few. Most were on leashes as required, but one lab mix ran free and took a flying leap into the lake. “The frigid water doesn’t bother him – he loves it!” said the dog’s owner, but after a minute he sensibly called the dog back. I couldn’t vouch for all days, but that day, every one of the roughly twenty-five dogs I saw over the course of my hike was well behaved. Plus, I didn’t see a single piece of evidence on the trail to remind me that dogs are allowed. Unlike the previous three lakes, the next lake was below a slope of boulders. Perhaps I’d scramble down another day, but I stopped for a good while to admire it from above, as well as 13,748-foot Mt. Morgan across and behind it. I felt the warmth of the mellow autumn sun and took some deep relaxed breaths of the pure air. Suddenly I heard a rustle nearby. A yellow-bellied marmot scurrying through some shrubs, probably foraging for as much food as possible in preparation for retiring to his or her burrow for a hibernation period of about eight months. As I approached the crest of a small ridge, I fixed my gaze on a mountain that I’d been noticing along the way, Pipsqueak Spire. But now it was even more eye-catching, framed by Whitebark pines lining the trail. The spire’s horizontal striped pattern is the result of igneous (rock formed by cooled magma) intrusions (laid down within the earth’s crust) that occurred during the Mesozoic era, 250-265 million years ago. A geologist later described it to me this way: “Below the earth’s surface, molten rock cracked rocks that were already cooled, and the molten rock filled in the cracks and later cooled and solidified.” Beyond the small ridge, as I crossed a stream intersecting the trail, carefully testing boulders before putting my weight on them, I thought about how, in recent years, I’ve seen more and more hikers using trekking poles. And I’d seen quite a few this day, but I didn’t miss having them myself, even though they could prove useful not only in crossing streams but also in navigating some of the more uneven, rocky parts of the trail. However, if I were on this trail much earlier in the year when the streams are full, I wouldn’t consider trekking poles optional. After hiking a little over two miles and arriving at another lake that would serve as my turn-around point, a different microclimate greeted me with a chill. Having followed the standard recommendation to carry extra layers, I was glad to have both a thin sweatshirt and a fleece vest for this portion of my hike. I sat down on a slanted rock, applied additional sunscreen, drank some water, and ate a package of nuts. Once again, I had the gift of the place to myself as I took in the uplifting scenery all around me. Other than the lapping waves against the stony shore and a nippy but soft breeze now and then, all was quiet. Ahead in the direction of the continuing trail I saw 12,866-foot Pyramid Peak, 13,713-foot Bear Creek Spire, 13,268-foot Pipsqueak Spire, and 13,600-foot Mt. Dade. Across the lake, behind the closer ridges, I could see Ruby Ridge and 13,188-foot Ruby Peak in the distance. After some twenty minutes in this sublime place with still not another soul in sight, it was time to go. I took one more long and grateful look in each direction before turning back. Out of the Backcountry & Back to the Trailhead On my return trip, more clouds began sweeping across the sky, subtly casting a more muted character over the scene. Nearing my return to the trailhead, I met a man who said he planned to drive to some nearby points of interest and then come back to hike the trail again later in the afternoon. I couldn’t recall ever hearing anyone say they planned to repeat a hike on the same day. “I want to see the mountains backlit,” he said. I understood. From the broad panoramas to detailed features, the character of the high Sierra Nevada changes with the intensity and angle of the light. Even on my short out-and-back hike, the return had seemed like a new experience. Someday I’d come back too, and, with more time, continue farther up the trail. But, for this day, my hike was perfect. Need to Know Information Trails out of the Mosquito Flat Trailhead are comfortably wide, well-maintained paths with some rocky sections. There’s a large paved parking lot at Mosquito Flat and smaller overflow parking lots a quarter to a third of a mile down the road. Permits are not required for day hikes. For more information contact the Inyo National Forest at 760-873-2400. Getting There From Mammoth Lakes, drive south 18 miles on Highway 395, or from Bishop, drive 24 miles north on Highway 395, and exit at Tom’s Place. Take Rock Creek Road west 10 miles to the Mosquito Flat parking lot. Other trailheads in the area offer additional exploration opportunities as well. Best Time to Go Summer and early fall are ideal times to day hike the area, in order to avoid winter snowpack and early season storms. Mosquitoes can be prevalent in early and mid-summer. Maps and Books The National Geographic Trails Illustrated 809: Mammoth Lakes, Mono Divide map covers hikes in the area. Best Short Hikes in California’s South Sierra as well as 100 Hikes in California’s South Sierra and Coast Range both offer additional reading on hiking opportunities in the Southern Sierra. Wilderness Press also offers their Sierra South: Backcountry Trips guide. Editor's Note: This article originally appeared in Issue 50 of TrailGroove Magazine. You can read the original article here for additional photos and content.

Declination refers to magnetic declination – the difference between true north and magnetic north. This poses a conundrum when navigating and utilizing maps, as maps are oriented to true north, but your compass needle points to magnetic north. This difference between true north and magnetic north will be listed on any decent map and can be looked up online. Magnetic declination will vary by location, and many compasses allow you to adjust for the exact declination of an area to make navigation easier. Declination by Location and Declination Adjustment Declination varies by location and changes over time. Most baseplate hiking compasses will feature a declination screw or adjustment mechanism, allowing you to quickly orient in the field. Digital compasses can be programmed with the declination (expressed in degrees) so that you’re shown true north in the field and not magnetic north. More on Backcountry Navigation For more on Navigation, see our complete navigation guide in the PDF version of Issue 56 of TrailGroove Magazine ($10 download or all included with an active Premium Subscription). Editor’s Note: This Jargon installment originally appeared in Issue 55 of TrailGroove Magazine. You can read the original article here.

One can easily say that Washington State holds some of the most beautiful, untouched, and rugged terrain in all of North America. At breakfast one could wake up on a driftwood littered beach on the coastline of a temperate rainforest, and by dinner be jumping into a glacial lake of the high Cascade peaks. With some of the most amazing wildlife covered landscapes and best backpacking in Washington and even in the United States, one can spend the rest of their lives trying to explore and conquer all of this untouched terrain. But just a warning, around every corner there will always be something more mind blowing than the last. Beautiful wildflower-filled scenery along the trail while hiking in the Alpine Lakes Wilderness of the Cascades. The Plan A friend and I decided to explore the pristine Alpine Lakes Wilderness region of this range with a planned hike spread out over three days, two nights, and 30 hiked miles reaching nearly 8,000 feet of maximum elevation, with plans to visit Cathedral Pass, Deep Lake, Peggy’s Pond, and lastly a hike to the eastern peak of Mt. Daniel. After a 6.5-hour flight from JFK in New York to Seattle-Tacoma International Airport and after months of planning, the trip finally began. Once settled with our rental car and after a quick trip to Wal-Mart for a few essentials, we were only a quick 2 hour drive from the Cathedral Pass Trailhead, located a short ways down the stunning Forest Service Road 4330 which will mesmerizingly take you deep into the wilderness through valleys and on mountainsides away from any cell reception and civilization. We left our car at the trailhead, paying the fee providing money for trail maintenance in the surrounding area. That evening we slept at the trailhead and at 4:30 a.m. the next morning, with our shoes tied tight, packs on our backs, and walking sticks in hand we began our journey. An Alpine Lakes Wilderness Backpacking Trip Begins The path began with a 4.5-mile hike to Cathedral Pass. This trail takes you on a tough journey beginning with a series of long, seemingly endless switchbacks. Once the switchbacks end after about 2.5 miles you are brought to your first glacial lake at 4850 feet offering a great spot for a break after the initial climb. The next two miles of trail begin to take you out of the woods and place you in more open terrain with plenty of smaller creatures and amazing wildflowers. As the elevation gain slows and the terrain continues to open up Cathedral Pass is then reached. Most of the people who backpack here continue on about another 1.5 miles for a basecamp, but many beautiful hidden campsites abound, so don’t be afraid to take a look around. In the shadow of the massive Cathedral Rock, between a series of small glacial ponds on the edge of a 5,600’ set of cliffs overlooking the valleys below, we found the most incredible area without a soul in sight; true mountain serenity. We setup camp, made lunch, and took a long break before packing daypacks and continuing on with our plan for the day, just before noon. Our original idea was to hike to Peggy’s Pond, then head to Mt. Daniel around sunset, hoping to catch some beautiful evening light, but our hike wouldn’t go as planned The trail to Peggy’s Pond and a trail to Deep Lake intersect with one another, Peggy’s Pond goes right, and Deep Lake goes left. So right we went. The Peggy’s Pond Trail is a high road around the upper half of Cathedral Peak that takes you right along the mountain’s edge about 800’ from the top. Because this trail is so high it is mostly made of loose gravel, which makes staying on the trail very, very difficult at some points. Along the Peggy’s Pond Trail there comes a point where you gaze down a 3000’ rock scramble to the massive glacial lake below, Deep Lake. Around this point the Peggy’s Pond Trail seems to vanish as well, so someone unfamiliar to these parts, as we were, might think that body of water must be Peggy’s Pond. Down we went, over loose gravel and though shrubs to a field of short grass and rocky beaches surrounding the lake. We were now 2 hours past camp, and the temperature reached about 98 degrees. After bushwhacking and the difficult climb down we reached the lake, only to discover no traces of human activity and grass chest high in length. “I thought Peggy’s Pond was a very popular spot, where is everyone?” Vincent asked. “How does anyone do this hike? People from Washington are of a different breed if this is a normal day hike.” We each drank heavily to quench the thirst we’d acquired getting here, and still thinking we had reached our true destination we began to enjoy the sapphire blue crystal clear waters, of what was really Deep Lake. We swam for hours, then filtered water for the hike back. Making our way through the tall grass to the uncharted side of Deep Lake we discovered a series of waterfalls and creeks running into the lake from the glacial covered mountains above; truly a spectacular sight. After 4 hours at the lake, and not seeing a single other hiker we began to realize we were not at Peggy’s Pond at all, and came to the conclusion that we went off trail and hiked down Cathedral Mountain to the side that goes mostly unvisited. So now the big question, can we walk around and take the trails back up on the other side? We could not, unless we wanted to bushwhack for another 2 miles and search through the forest for an unmarked trail back to camp. So back up the scramble we went. An unmarked, 3000’ scramble hoping to find a small gravel trail back to camp in 98 degree weather was extremely difficult to say the least. Up we went, catching our breath every 25 feet, loose gravel giving way from under our feet as we climbed. We aimed for a small patch of dead trees that we’d seen along the trail. The higher we climbed the looser the gravel. An hour later we stumbled upon a small area of overhanging cliffs, the toughest part of our scramble. When we reached the top all hope was lost – all that could be seen was more loose gravel without a defined trail. For 10 minutes we rested. Then a massive smile came across Vincent’s face, and looking up I saw a family of three walking towards us. Little did we know we were sitting just 10 feet below the hidden trail. We began laughing hysterically, hopped up, and walked an easy mile back to camp. Once there we swam in some of the smaller glacial ponds, then finished our evening with a well deserved Mountain House freeze-dried burrito in a bag and we watched the sunset from our camp’s 5600’ cliffside view. This was just the first day, and all we could ponder was what else the wilderness and our trip had in store. The next morning, the 4th of July, we woke early, sore and barely able to move but ready for our next adventure. Mt. Daniel’s east peak was the goal for the second day, with a long trek back to the car to follow after our peak exploring was over. Our hike began again on the same trail as the day prior; it was time to find Peggy’s Pond for real this time. We followed the trail up the mountain, hopeful to find the correct route. Ascending we quickly came to the vanishing point of the trail again, and after some searching we found a small footpath that led back to the main trail. The trick we determined was to climb up the rock formation on the higher elevated side of trail, instead of following the passage down, even though it seems like the correct route. Finally we passed our speed bump and were on our way. After walking on the gravel trail placed on the side of Cathedral Rock for around half a mile we came to a small wooded area, the trail then moving into wide open grassland holding a beautiful small glacial lake. We had reached Peggy’s Pond. With Mt. Daniel in our sights however, we trekked right past the beautiful blue water, planning to stop on the way back to camp instead. Up we began, first through a small wooded area on a faint trail no wider than a small game trail. After 45 minutes of non-stop uphill bushwhacking we eventually broke out of the trees. Here we could see all of Mt. Daniel’s glacial covered face and beautiful meadows lead our eyes to the intense ridgeline we would follow to the eastern peak. We continued upward, resting and reapplying sunblock at regular intervals. The climb was intense, but for an in-shape hiker it was certainly doable, and it only seemed to become more beautiful with each foot of elevation gained. The grassy areas were littered with life; marmots, rabbits, squirrels, mountain goats, and wildflowers stretched in every direction; it was stunning. Although we could have stayed in the meadows all day, enjoying the views, we had a goal in mind. We were halfway there. Again, up we went. At around 9:30 a.m. we reached the ridgeline that would lead us directly towards the eastern peak. Normally in early summer there’s still a large amount of snow remaining on Mt. Daniel, but luckily it had been a light snow year. After some technical sections, the eastern peak provided views of 5 volcanic mountains in Washington State and glacial lakes as far as the eye can see. We did it, nearly 8000 feet above sea level with views of Venus and Spade Lakes, tons of other glacial lakes, various glaciers, and volcanic peaks. Could there really be a better way to celebrate Independence Day other than views like this? I think not. We took in the stunning views and enjoyed our accomplishment for hours. Then Vinny and I (as well as two friends we made on the peak) headed back down at around 4 p.m., with intentions of cooling off in Peggy’s Pond. The way down was as spectacular as the way up, but this time with an added glow as the sun moved towards the horizon and began to set. The trek back was filled with laughter and smiles, a complete opposite of the huffing and puffing miserable faces that were the norm on the hike up. The way down took a quarter of the time the way up had, giving us plenty of time to enjoy a nice swim at Peggy’s Pond. The Hike Out Before we knew it we were back at camp having our last meal in the Cascades and packing up to head down. We hiked out late, making the majority of our downhill hike back during sunset, but we still had to walk a solid hour with headlamps on in complete darkness. But once out of the Cascades Vinny and I could not have been happier with the strength that we had showed and what we had completed. The Cascade Mountains of Washington State are one of the most rugged and beautiful destinations in the United States, and make for an excellent backpacking destination allowing hikers to experience a wide variety of mountain terrain even on limited time. Around every corner there will always be something more amazing than the last. Your feet can take you to some incredible places, let the Alpine Lakes Wilderness of the Cascade Mountain Range in Washington State be one you’ll never forget. I know we won’t. Need to Know Information Overnight permits: Self paid at the trailhead, bring a pen or pencil because one was not available at the permit station. Parking permit: Self paid for at the trailhead, display on dashboard. Best Time to Go Late June - early September. Getting There Drive on I-90 east from Snoqualmie Pass or west from Ellensburg and take Exit 80. From exit 80 go north through Roslyn and Ronald and toward Salmon la Sac, which is about 16 miles from Roslyn. Turn right on Forest Road 4330 (no you did not pass it, it is all the way at the end of the road and well-marked) and drive another 12.3 miles to near the end of the dirt road. The trailhead parking lot for Cathedral Pass will be on the left hand side just before the road ends, the road ends at another trailhead for Hyas Lake-Deception Pass, this can also be used as an overflow parking lot, as they are directly next to each other. Maps Trails Illustrated 825 - Alpine Lakes Wilderness Books Backpacking Washington's Alpine Lakes Wilderness: The Longer Trails as well as Day Hikes and Easy Overnights by Jeff Smoot. Editor's Note: This article by contributor James Parascandola originally appeared in Issue 27 of TrailGroove Magazine. You can read the original article here for additional photos and content.

It is a cold, blustery day in the Colorado backcountry. The mountains are covered in a blanket of snow. The tree branches are bending under the weight of the previous night’s snowfall. A canopy of branches is over the trail. My breath forms a cloud in the morning air. My cheeks are cold. I do not dread heading into the mountains in these conditions. I embrace them. I am about to explore the backcountry. Not plodding through the snow in boots. Or stomping down a path with snowshoes. I plan on gliding over the snow on skis. I will be backcountry ski touring. An elegant, efficient and, dare I say, almost magical way of seeing the backcountry in winter. Backcountry Nordic skiing is all about the journey. What is Backcountry Ski Touring? Ski touring, formally known as backcountry Nordic touring, is a type of skiing that is located somewhere between the classic cross-country skiing in a flat or groomed area and the “big mountain” skiing where the emphasis is on steeper inclines and making turns. Backcountry Nordic is more about the journey than the adrenaline rush. Exploring. Making distance over varied terrain. Seeing what a beautiful, but crowded, lake looks like in the winter with only you and a Thermos of hot chocolate present. It’s akin to hiking on skis: If your idea of a quiet evening at home is poring over a topo map and plotting out a backcountry route, this type of skiing may appeal to you. Why Skiing Instead of Snowshoeing? Snowshoeing has a less steep learning curve but is less elegant and slower than skiing. Once a person learns the basics needed for ski touring, it is amazing how much ground can be covered vs. snowshoes. And while snowshoes do work better in heavily wooded areas, as a person’s skill level increases, the definition of heavily wooded tends to be more elastic. But skiing is not just about covering distance more efficiently. It is also about skiing along in fresh snow, hearing a schuss sound while making your way through the powder and getting into that magical moment as you glide effortlessly through the landscape. With snowshoes, I feel as if I am plodding. With skis? I am in flight. What Type of Skis to Buy? Unfortunately, there is no perfect ski. Some skis are long and straight and great for gliding over flat terrain but not as good for turning. Others are very wide and have a pronounced hourglass shape to them. This type of ski floats well and will make turns easier but makes for slow traveling overall. Backcountry Nordic skis tend to be somewhere in the middle. A little wider to accommodate floating over powder, but narrow enough to facilitate gliding. And a bit of a shape to make turns. Like their classic cross-country skiing cousins, most backcountry Nordic skis have a noticeable arch (known as a double-camber) in them that facilitates good gliding. Much like bicycling enthusiasts, many people who get into skiing end up with multiple skis in their “quiver”. Some skis for touring in rolling terrain, some for mainly flat terrain and still another set for very steep terrain. And so on. It can be an addiction! But to start off, it’s best to get one pair that will be a good all-around ski for a variety of conditions. Besides the type of ski, the boots, bindings, and waxable / waxless skis are additional factors that need to be considered. A whole book can, and many have, been written about these topics. Bindings & Boots: New Nordic Norm – Backcountry (NNN-BC) vs. 75mm 3 Pin For the sake of brevity, to sum things up the NNN-BC systems are best for day use activities. This system is light and excellent for speed and gliding. The older, but still widespread 75mm three-pin system is more robust and allows for better turning ability especially with a heavier load. I find the 75mm three-pin system is less prone to icing up vs. the NNN-BC system and is better suited for overnight use. Waxable vs. Waxless Skis Backcountry Nordic skis are able to climb moderately steep terrain and still retain gliding ability on the flatter areas and downhill sections. There are two methods used in backcountry ski touring to strike to this balance between gliding and climbing abilities. The methods used are either kick wax, or a fish scale pattern built into the skis themselves. Both of these methods allow for gliding on the flats and downhills while also allowing a skier to climb up moderately steep terrain. One method may be better than another based on terrain, type of snow, skier’s ability, or even preference. Waxable Skis Waxable skis use a variety of color-coded hard to soft waxes that work in a variety of conditions. The colder the snow, the harder the wax that should be used. In consistent cold and dry snow, waxed skis allow for better gliding and faster descents vs. waxless skis. There is a bit of an art to applying wax that some people, especially beginning skiers, may find to be a bother or even difficult to apply correctly. Waxless Skis Waxless skis dispense with the wax and use a fish scale pattern that is built into the skis themselves. No need to apply the appropriate wax. This pattern allows for climbing on moderate terrain but has a slower glide on flatter areas and downhills vs. waxed skis. I find that waxless skis do work better in wet and warm snow versus waxed skis. And if a person is climbing up steeper terrain, especially with a heavier pack, climbing skins may need to be used. What are climbing skins? Climbing skins are simply a strip of mohair fabric with a sticky glue-like backing on the other side of the strip. A skier will put the glue side against the bottom of the ski when a climb is encountered and remove the climbing skin when descending. The climbing skins allow a skier to climb up a steep incline and allow for limited gliding on flatter areas and while going downhill. A skier can purchase full length skins that go from the tip of the ski to the tail, or kicker skins that cover the middle underside of the ski, also known as the kick pocket, only. For most backcountry Nordic tours, the full length skins are a bit overkill. Besides being more expensive, the full length skins inhibit the glide quite a bit and aren’t suited for the typical rolling terrain seen in Nordic touring. Kicker skins, however, work well for this type of skiing and they also work very well in spring ski conditions with waxable skis. Climbing skins are probably best purchased later when a person is feeling comfortable skiing in more aggressive terrain. Suggestions for an Initial Kit As a person can see, there are many variables in picking a ski system that will work for them. I always suggest that a person talk to a knowledgeable person at an outdoor store that specializes in this type of gear. The staff will be able to assist in purchasing skis, bindings, and boots that will work for the type of skiing and terrain that will be encountered by an individual skier. Having said that, when I purchased a touring system for my wife, I bought the following setup. Skis As a beginner, my wife did not want to bother with waxing skis. She simply wanted to “ski and go”. The ideal ski would be wider with good flotation and a bit of shape to them that allowed for easier turning, if with a compromise in gliding speed. Basically, an all-around mountain ski was desired. I settled on the Rossignol BC series of skis. These waxless skis are less than $500, versatile, and wide enough to handle turns on moderately steep terrain. Overall, an excellent ski if starting out with a “quiver of one”. Bindings and Boots As mentioned, I am not a fan of the NNN-BC system overall. Though lighter than the older 75mm three-pin system, I find that the NNN-BC is prone to icing up and gives less control when making turns. A versatile, all condition binding is the Voile 3-Pin Cable Telemark binding. Simple and bomber. The removable cable allows for more control on steeper downhills, especially with a heavier overnight pack, but better gliding ability is obtained if the cable is removed. My wife skis with the cable attached almost all the time as the better control and turning ability is more of a concern for her than gliding speed. Many beginners feel similar. Finally, a boot that works well for all-around touring, be it day use, winter overnights and even some steeper terrain, is the Crispi Mountain Boot or the classic Asolo Snowfield boots. Snowfields can often be found online for $75 or less and still in very good condition. An excellent option for the bargain shopper. Both of these boots have however, become very hard to find. For currently available options, you can see a selection of ski boots here at REI Co-op. This backcountry Nordic touring kit is not terribly expensive, is versatile enough for many different types of backcountry skiing conditions, and is good enough to use even when a person’s skill set expands. At less than $1000 for a complete kit, it’s not terribly expensive overall and will last a while. As a side note, another way to bargain shop, besides buying used boots, is to buy gear at the end of the season. Brand new skis and bindings are often steeply discounted by March. An excellent way to get into skiing if a person wants to save money and is patient. Also consider renting a ski kit first to try some different skis, boots, and binding combinations. Some stores are generous and allow part of the rental fee to go towards the purchase of a new ski kit. Skiing vs. Hiking vs. Snowshoeing Speeds A common question asked by many beginning skiers is “How much faster will I go compared to hiking or even snowshoeing?” There are many variables that have an effect on this number: Fitness and skill level of the skier, heaviness of pack, new snow or a packed-down trail, steepness of terrain, etc. In general, I find that on moderate terrain with a packed-down trail (no fresh snow), I can climb about as fast as I hike or snowshoe. On flat terrain, I glide about 1.5 times as fast, if not more, compared to my hiking and snowshoeing speed. And for downhills? I am flying! As a more concrete example, a favorite ski tour of mine is about twelve miles and has approximately 2000 feet of elevation gain over rolling terrain. This usually packed trail takes me 3-4 hours to ski. If I were to hike or snowshoe this trail, it would take me 4-5 hours. A similar loop with a lot of fresh snow and no previous ski traffic may take me 4-5 hours, however. This same loop would still take longer on snowshoes vs. skis. I also find that breaking trail with snowshoes can be more tiring than breaking trail on skis. Exploring the backcountry in winter provides a completely different perspective than the other 3 seasons. Other Gear for Backcountry Skiing When backcountry skiing, other gear may be need to be brought vs. three-season hiking. Some essential pieces of gear I find useful are: A set of ski poles, of course! Trekking poles can sometimes be used if snow baskets are attached. They do however, tend to be less robust than ski poles, and can bend or even break. As more aggressive skiing is done, it may be better to have dedicated ski poles. Compact Snow Shovel: A small shovel that often splits for easy transportation in a pack. Useful for digging a snow shelter, making backcountry “furniture” when backpacking and getting the car out of the trailhead if it snowed while in the backcountry. A Pair of Tall Gaiters: Helps keep the snow out of your boots when skiing through deep powder. Insulated Water Bottle: Not absolutely essential, but a hot drink while overlooking the valley below is always nice. Backcountry Repair Kit: A simple repair kit is a “must have” when backcountry skiing. A multi-tool, duct tape, baling wire, steel wool, zip ties, ski straps and parachute cord are in my kit. If a binding becomes loose or a boot sole delaminates, I can make some emergency repairs to help get back to the trailhead. Reflective Bivvy Shelter or alternative: More so for day skis than overnights (when a person has a shelter, sleeping bag, a stove, and so on), on these excursions I like to pack something of this nature. An uncomfortable night in the backcountry for example, is preferable to a potentially more complicated situation if something unforeseeable happens. An aluminized blanket, a small tarp, or a poncho all can help. Need to Know More? This article only looks at the very basics of backcountry Nordic touring. If a person has more interest in this wonderful type of outdoor experience, more information should be sought. First, find an outdoor shop that has a good selection of these types of skis. If no stores are found locally, there are now multiple stores with an online presence. Call up or visit the store, ask some questions, and the often knowledgeable staff will help pick a ski, boot, and binding system that will fit well and work for the type of skiing that’s desired. If a store is local, consider renting some gear first to figure out what equipment may work best for your skiing style. Next, get some practical know-how. Going out and, to paraphrase a well-known sneaker commercial, “just doing it” is not necessarily the best idea. Exploring the backcountry in winter requires more preparation, gear, and consideration when compared to the other seasons. If a friend who is an experienced skier and winter trekker is not available easily for personal lessons, all is not lost. Many local outdoor groups offer low-cost or even free classes, workshops, trips focused on backcountry Nordic skiing / winter backpacking, and sometimes even avalanche safety classes. And, finally, do some reading. Not quite as good as talking to someone directly for many, but doing some reading and applying that knowledge can work for the right person. For more on winter backpacking technique, you can read this article in Issue 26. Allen & Mike's Really Cool Backcountry Ski Book is also an excellent resource. A short, informative, and humorous read, the book covers not only backcountry skiing but also details winter camping information in a concise and very readable form. In Conclusion Backcountry Nordic skiing is a wonderful way to explore the natural world. Winter is not a time to hibernate and have endless gear discussions online. Rather, winter is a time to see nature in a different way: The winter alpenglow on the mountains is a photographer’s delight. The well-known sights become something new and different in the winter landscape. And nature reveals herself in way seldom experienced by many. Glide on the snow, experience the fresh powder, delight in the cold air and enjoy the wonder that is the winter landscape. Grab a pack, get on the skis and go! Editor's Note: This article originally appeared in Issue 20 of TrailGroove Magazine. You can read the original article here for additional photos and content.

When hiking and backpacking in the winter, having the knowledge and preparation to easily build a snow shelter is an essential skill. Some people even prefer snow shelters over tents during the winter because they are quieter and warmer than even the best 4 season tents on the market, which can be very pricey too. Even for people that do not plan on spending any overnights in the backcountry during the winter, knowing how to quickly construct a solid snow shelter is a good skill to have in case something unexpected happens. Forming the base of a snow shelter after selecting a site Types of Backcountry Snow Shelters There are two main types of snow shelters, quinzhees (also known as a snow cave), and igloos. Neither are quick to make for someone that needs shelter fast. A quinzhee is made by hollowing out a settled mound of snow. Unfortunately it can take 12 to 24 hours for snow to naturally settle into a hard enough pack after shoveling it into an 8 foot snow pile, and is very dependent on the type of snow. Stomping on the snow while you are piling it up can help the process along, which will give quicker results but it’s still not fast enough for an emergency shelter. An igloo on the other hand is built from blocks of snow that are formed. Forming these blocks takes the right kind of snow and is even more time intensive, but igloos are much stronger and considered semi-permanent or permanent with the right kind of maintenance along with cold enough temperatures. In Colorado specifically, our skiing is world renowned because of our champagne powder. Unfortunately this kind of snow is terrible for snow shelters as it doesn’t like to settle densely enough to prevent a cave in, even with extensive work hardening. This means extra thick walls need to be built and a lot of snow shoveled to make a suitable shelter, which can take a lot of time and energy. Instead I prefer a different approach that's much quicker, no matter the snow type and quality. My method is a suspension roof snow cave, and with practice I can easily build one in less than an hour, and it only requires that two things be brought into the backcountry: a small avalanche shovel and a small tarp. How to Make a Quick & Easy Snow Shelter To begin, I like to select a site that is relatively flat and is not in an avalanche prone area, preferably in or near a treed area if possible. Look for a flat snow surface, which will help you avoid obstacles like rocks or downed trees that may be hiding under the snow. Then stomp out a circle around your designated site to help you design a symmetric pile. If you are using snowshoes, keep them on; otherwise take off your skis for the next part. You’ll need a sturdy metal lightweight snow shovel, which is part of my avalanche rescue kit and has an extendable handle to make snow shoveling easier on your back. Unlike a real quinzhee, you only need to pile the snow around 3-4 feet high; work to harden it by walking on it with your snowshoes as you build up the snow pile. If this is going to be used for more than one night, take a little extra time and pile it up higher so that you have more room to sit up when it’s finished. Once you have made your pile and you feel that it’s sufficiently hardened by being able to stand on top of it without sinking into the snow, figure out which side will be the entrance. You want the entrances to be downhill and downwind to help keep snow from getting inside when the wind blows, and to make it more comfortable to sleep in so that your head is above your feet. At the entrance, start to dig out the center of the pile until a horseshoe U is formed into the original round pile. This should be slightly wider than your shoulders and long enough that you can fit your entire body inside without being uncomfortable. Use the shovel to carefully cut the walls of the shelter so that they are straight up and down, giving you maximum room and keeping the walls strong. Once the snow cave is wide and long enough for you, it’s time to build a suspension roof. The roof requires the second item, a tarp. You don’t need a fancy tarp. For example, a classic "blue tarp" as shown in the photos will run you about $10-20 and you can choose from lighter or heavier-duty options if you'd like. There are lighter options, but the nice thing about a cheap tarp is that it won’t matter if it gets abused. That said, if you're looking to go ultralight in regards to the tarp, you can take a look here at Zpacks, but you will likely want to use trekking poles and skis instead of branches if you go ultralight. Next, use trekking poles, skis, dead tree branches, and/or other similarly shaped items to span between the two walls to make the roof support. The tarp is then placed over them, sealing the roof and completing the shelter. I personally used twigs as stakes for the tarp and then bury the edges in snow to seal the shelter from the majority of the wind. Some people may choose to add some snow to the top of the tarp if it’s flat enough to help keep the tarp from accidentally blowing away and to insulate your shelter a bit more, but normally the tarp material is too slippery to make this easy. Using small tree branches around the edges of the tarp to dam in the snow on top is a good idea. If I do add snow on top, I take care to not overload the suspension roof as tree branches and trekking poles may bend easier than expected. Keeping the inside as narrow as possible, again just wider than your shoulders, will help keep the bending forces low. Lastly, building a two person suspension roof shelter is much more difficult because the size of the tarp needs to be much bigger, and the roof will need to be built with a lot of long and thick tree branches that may be hard to find since trekking poles won’t be long or strong enough. A better option for two or more people may be a tool like the Grand Shelters Ice Box igloo making tool. Editor's Note: This trail tip by Ted "tmountainnut" Ehrlich originally appeared in Issue 20 of TrailGroove Magazine. You can read the original article here.

While ultralight disposable bottles reused can make great and lightweight water containers for summer backpacking, as fall begins to make its presence known with crisp nights, the occasional dusting of snow, and with backcountry trips often featuring more extended back to back bouts with wetter weather, staying warm is at the forefront of my mind. While my efforts here focus on selecting the proper, and proper amount of, insulation across the board, sometimes nothing beats a source of warmth other than trying to trap your own. When fall truly arrives and I find myself in the backcountry during that first major cold front with multiple days of wet, rainy, or snowy weather a hot water bottle in the sleeping bag can help combat a little loss of loft in a sleeping bag, help to maintain sanity when I begin to lose the condensation battle in a tent, and perhaps even help to dry out some clothing and gear while getting a better night of sleep at the same time. For shoulder season or winter backpacking trips, a hot water bottle at night can offer a nice mental boost. Backpacking Bottles for Hot Water A Nalgene Tritan bottle (more insulating) or the HDPE Nalgene option (lighter) and some extra stove fuel quickly becomes my best friend after sunset here – each bottle is capable of safely holding boiling water securely and for a less nerve-inducing experience the wide-mouth versions may be best. For a liter of water, allocating around 20 grams of extra stove fuel per bottle will usually do for most modern upright canister stoves when it’s not windy, but at home testing with the exact setup and stove / fuel choice can of course determine a more exact number. Many like to then insert the bottle into a large sock or other non-meltable clothing item to take the edge off the heat and further insulate the bottle. For cold-footed sleepers the footbox of a sleeping bag can make for a good stash point, but I find keeping the bottle closer to my core helps more with overall warmth. While the Tritan Nalgene will hold heat longer, I find that unless I'm on a true winter backpacking trip I'm taking the HDPE Nalgene bottle since it's lighter weight, and although both types of Nalgene bottles are rated for hot water, the HDPE offers a little more peace of mind as it's rated to a higher temperature. The benefit doesn’t stop there – one of the best parts is waking up with a liter of warm water the next morning for drinking, toothbrushing, and coffee that’s not icy cold to start with. While I don't rely on this trick for warmth on a trip of course, a hot water bottle offers a nice backup and bonus, the promise of a better night of sleep, and perhaps most importantly a psychological boost when the weather becomes challenging. When I think I might utilize the trick before a trip, I make sure to pack extra fuel and double check that I've closed that lid securely before placing it in my sleeping bag when I'm out there. For more ways to stay warm at night, see our article: 10 Ways to Sleep Warmer on Your Next Backpacking Trip. Editor's Note: This Trail Tip originally appeared in Issue 30 of TrailGroove Magazine. You can read the original article here.

Memories can be painful and happy. As I drove through the darkness past the national park boundary near Moran Junction, I reflected a bit on my last trip to the Tetons. In June 2001, my Boy Scout troop took a trip to Grand Teton and Yellowstone, and during that trip we backpacked one night up Granite Canyon. I know it was my first backpacking trip outside of Colorado and maybe my second or third backpacking trip ever. Two distinct memories pop out from that trip. I remember how beautiful the mountains were, and how much my feet hurt afterward because they had outgrown my old boots. I ended up losing a toenail, but the experience stuck with me, and the Tetons have always been a special place to me. In the past I had looked into backpacking the Tetons, however my goal was the John Muir Trail prior to my Tetons trip. Life got in the way with a job change and some medical bills, so flying to California and taking two weeks off wasn’t going to work. I needed another plan for the Labor Day weekend and the Teton Crest Trail came to mind. The Crest Trail was too short for a 4 day weekend and I wanted something a little bit longer and remote. After studying the maps a bit, I figured that continuing on from Hurricane Pass north and linking up with the trails just west of the park might be a good way to traverse the entire park. Some research led me to Petzoldt’s Teton Trails, an old guidebook from the 70’s, where Paul Petzoldt described a route he called the High Adventure Trail. The High Adventure Trail begins with the Crest Trail from Teton Pass to Hurricane Pass, following the trail through the southern end of the Tetons. At Hurricane Pass, an off trail shot straight to Table Mountain begins a whole new adventure in the Jedediah Smith Wilderness, eventually following a different Teton Crest Trail #008 through the east side of the Tetons. Eventually after Jackass Pass, the High Adventure Trail starts to bushwhack north to Lake of the Woods and Grassy Lake Road, ending at the road. I liked the idea, but it needed some refinement for someone that doesn’t live in the area and doesn’t want to end up in the middle of nowhere on a narrow dirt road. I noticed another trail that led from Jackass Pass to Berry Creek, eventually leading to the Glade Creek Trailhead near Flagg Ranch. Flagg Ranch is just off the main road that passes through Grand Teton to the south entrance of Yellowstone, making it easily accessible. Even better, a shuttle runs every day from Flagg Ranch to Jackson Hole, making a thru-hike of the park a real possibility. From Jackson Hole I could easily hitchhike or take a taxi to Teton Pass to start the trip. Permits were my next concern. I almost dismissed the trip thinking that getting a backcountry permit late in the summer would be too much of a hassle. However, with much of the trail through National Forest, which does not require overnight permits and has plenty of campsites, planning and logistics became much easier. Next I made myself a datasheet for the trip with mileage splits, elevations, a few waypoints, and figured out the approximate mileage and expected campsites. Everything seemed to fall in place, making the planning part pretty easy. Unlike most of my past trips, I decided to go solo this time, so my gear list was minimized even more than normal. I was packing a summer alpine backpacking kit and brought my ACR satellite beacon as my only lifeline and just in case, along with a can of bear spray, and I made sure that all of my food and smellables during the trip would fit within my Ursack food bag. A Grand Tetons Hike Begins After passing Moran Junction, I drove through the darkness to Flagg Ranch and Grassy Lake Road. Since Glade Creek was a few miles down the road from Flagg Ranch, I brought my bike to help with the shuttle, a 4.5 mile ride. After locking up the bike at the trailhead, the plan was to camp along Grassy Lake Road at the primitive designated sites along the road. However the sites had been closed off with no trespassing signs and dirt mounds blocking them. Eventually however, I found a spot with permission to sleep for the night. Seven A.M. came early, and as I boarded the shuttle to Jackson, I was too excited to let the lack of sleep affect me. As we drove south, my heart sank. A thick haze covered the horizon where the Tetons should have been, blowing in from an Idaho fire. I was afraid that the haze was not only going to ruin the views for the trip, but possibly aggravate my dormant asthma as I completed the trek. Soon enough, I made it to Jackson, thanking my driver Joe for the shuttle ride and having Tim from Flying T Taxi pick me up at the Home Ranch parking lot to head to Teton Pass. Both drivers were excellent and professional, and I recommend both services highly. Tim dropped me off at the Phillips Trailhead, which is a 4wd road for the first quarter mile. The trailhead was very busy, but the crowds disappeared immediately as I headed up the road. As I worked my way up Phillips Pass, my worries about the haze dissipated. The valleys below me were hidden under the thick cloud of haze that had settled there, but the mountains were clear, without a cloud in the sky. The weather was perfect, and was predicted to stay that way through Monday, with some rain on the last day. After Phillips Pass, I headed towards the next high point, Moose Creek Divide, and I passed into the National Park. At this point, I anticipated a busier trail than the previous morning, since an alternate route to the Teton Crest intersected there, coming from Teton Village, where one could ride the aerial tram to avoid most of the elevation gain. From there the trail headed north to the first named lake of the trip, Marion Lake, a beautiful alpine lake against a steep rock face. Past Marion, the trail dipped out of the park, and then back in at Fox Creek Pass, the start of the Death Canyon Shelf. The shelf is a very beautiful area, with perfect views to the east and the Grand Teton consuming the skyline to the north. As I headed north, the Grand kept getting bigger and bigger, with the best view just before dropping over Mount Meek Pass into the Alaska Basin. Here, the Grand disappears behind a ridgeline, and Buck Mountain to the east becomes the focal point. As I passed the lowest point in the basin, the last rays of sunlight lit up Buck Mountain with a pinkish orange alpenglow before disappearing below the horizon. I had a little more light left in the day, so I hoofed it in the last bit of twilight to Sunset Lake, a beautiful little lake with great tasting water on the north side of the Alaska Basin. I set up camp at an obvious spot just below the lake, enjoying some dinner before falling asleep under the stars in my bivy sack. Almost 20 miles down, and over 6000 feet of gain had worn me out. The Second Day Day 2 started off late, and set me back for the rest of the trip. The lack of sleep from driving so much the night before had caught up, and I shut off my alarm, waking up much later and hitting the trail at 9:45, feeling well rested. I headed up the last stretch of the Teton Crest Trail to Hurricane Pass, where the massive block which is the Grand came back into view, seeming almost so close you could just jump across the valley to it. Here the new route began with a social trail that ran just to the west side of the ridge toward Table Mountain, the obvious high point just north of Hurricane Pass. The social trail disappears after a short bit, but it’s fairly easy to navigate through this trail-less area. The south slope of Table Mountain is a terrible scree field from the saddle till 10,600 when the grade eases. I found sticking next to a thin line of shrubs more to the east kept me away from the loosest rock, but there was still unstable rock in this area. I found the last couple hundred feet of Table Mountain to be better, and as I made it to the top, I was surprised to find a small crowd at the summit. Along the trail the prior day and a half, I had only seen about 20 people, most of them in camps along the Death Canyon Shelf and Alaska Basin. There were close to 20 people at the summit as I stopped to enjoy the view of the Grand, directly to the east of Table Mountain. A strange swarm of lady bugs covered the summit. The hike down Table Mountain is fairly steep and long, losing over 3000 feet before the turn off to Fred’s Mountain. I ended up having an enjoyable conversation with a local named Blair and a group on horseback. After the turn off, another 1500 feet of gain brought me to Fred’s Mountain Pass, where I enjoyed my last view of the Grand, still massive against the eastern sky, and then went north over the ridge towards South Leigh Creek. From here on, the characteristic of the trail seemed to change. The trail was below tree line more, with thicker trees, a narrower trail, and more of a wilderness feel. As I made it down to Leigh Creek, my heart sank. I was nearly out of water, and the wide stream bed which I assumed would be flowing was completely dry. I decided to take a quick break, slipping off my shoes to fix a hotspot. While I was working on my feet, a couple on horseback came by, and told me the stream was just underground at that point, and there were plenty of springs and streams just ahead. Sure enough, I quickly found some water, and I headed up towards the Granite Creek Basin. As the sun set, I found a nice spot to camp near 8700 feet. Again the sky was clear, and I setup the bivy after having some supper, enjoying the stars above. At three A.M. I woke up, feeling something wet on my face. The stars had disappeared, blacked out by thick clouds, and I felt a few more rain drops. I didn’t have the motivation to fully wake up and set up my tarp. Instead I lazily draped it over me and my backpack, tying it off to my bivy in case the wind picked up and tried to blow it away, falling back to sleep. A few hours later I woke up, with the rain clouds still looming over me. Apparently the weather decided to move in a day early, and the sky opened up within a half hour of getting on the trail. The first pass was between Granite Lakes and Green Lakes. The area between the two basins was beautiful, making me wish I would have hiked a little faster the day before to make camp there. After Green Lakes, I encountered my first stretch of missing trail just before descending to Badger Creek. At the creek I took a short break to dry out, running into a pair of locals doing the same trek as me, south bound. From the creek, I headed up to Dead Horse Pass, with the rain breaking just before I crested the pass. I took a moment, and started the long descent into South Bitch Creek. As I descended into the creek, the rain came back as I passed several beaver dams in the lower section of the creek, spotting a beaver momentarily just before the trail junction. At the junction, I headed uphill, through the rain again, towards Camp Lake and Nord Pass. As I headed uphill, I noticed something I thought was unusual on the trail; snails. Hundreds of them had appeared on the uphill stretch, and soon I passed through the clouds at tree line, above the rain just in time for the soft light of the evening to illuminate the valley. I found the area around Nord Pass striking, and as I crested, the sun disappeared over the horizon. Immediately on the north side I ran into thick fog moving up valley, making navigation in the dark nearly impossible. As I descended, the trail disappeared, forcing me to make camp as the fog started to become disorienting. On this day in the Tetons, the fog increased to such a level that visibility became limited. A Last Day in the Tetons The last day began with a beautiful sunrise. The fog and rain passed during the night, and I had 26 miles to finish ahead before driving back to home. I was still off trail, but I could see down valley where the trail should intersect North Bitch Creek, where I filled up on water for the dry stretch ahead. After bushwhacking down the valley, I found the trail coming in from the east and the trail intersection. The next high point was just around Red Mountain near Young’s Point, and the faint trail headed up around the side of the mountain. After finding the trail intersection on the side of Red Mountain, the trail disappeared completely. Cross country travel from here is pretty straightforward, heading towards Grizzly Creek and my last uphill climb to Conant Pass. I made it to Conant Pass just after noon, and with 16 miles left, I knew that I needed to dig deep for some speed. The rest of the trek was downhill on good trails, turning at Jackass Pass to head down into Berry Creek. Berry Creek ended up being one of the highlights of the trip. While being a very pretty hike, I ended up running into a black bear and a full size black wolf, a first for me. Ultimately I made it to the Snake River Corridor and made it to my bike at six, with a few hours of light left. The ride from the trailhead to Flagg Ranch was fast and enjoyable, and was a great finale to the trip. Thoughts on Backpacking Through the Tetons As I drove back to Moran Junction, the sun dipped below the Tetons, no longer shrouded in haze, and I enjoyed the views of the eastern face of the range I just traversed. The light disappeared as I exited the park, and a long drive took me back to Denver. In retrospect, a few ideas jumped out at me. From my experience, the Tetons were fairly dry during the late summer. Maybe it was just from the low snowpack, but there were several extended dry sections that made water planning harder than other alpine backpacking trips. Late summer means almost no wildflowers. Blair, the local I met on the trail, said that if I wanted to hike during wildflower season and get the most of the seasonal water runoff, early July may have been a better time to visit. Insects were nonexistent for most of the trip (except the swarming ladybugs at the top of Table Mountain), and the only part of the trail that felt crowded was actually the Table Mountain Trail. Otherwise I only ran into a fellow hiker occasionally, and I did not see anyone on my last day until I started biking along Grassy Lakes Road. The most memorable pieces of the trip was Alaska Basin, Hurricane Pass, the Green Lakes area just north of the Granite Basin Lakes, and the area between Nord Pass and Camp Lake. Berry Creek was very exciting with abundant wildlife. While I was hiking, I noticed on the map an interesting alternate route. Hiking east from Nord Pass will drop you into Moose Basin, which will give you a few different routes in the remote areas of Owl and Webb Canyons. I think using either canyon as an alternate ending would be fun, and I look forward to exploring the Teton Range again in the years to come. Information Best Time to Go Mid June - September Getting There Jackson, WY is the closest major town and has a regional airport and rental car services for travelers needing to fly in. Flagg Ranch is 55 miles north of Jackson, just south of the entrance to Yellowstone. Maps and Books National Geographic Trails Illustrated #202 covers the entire trail. Petzoldt's Teton Trails offers a historic perspective and information on the area. A modern-day guidebook can be found in Hiking Grand Teton National Park. Editor's Note: This article by Ted "tmountainnut" Ehrlich originally appeared in Issue 12 of TrailGroove Magazine. You can read the original article here for additional photos and content.

Southern Utah, the Colorado Plateau Desert; of all the world this place is unique. Here the desert is a maze. Canyons and gulches dissect the plateau into a great network, a labyrinth of lost alcoves and secret glens which one could spend a lifetime exploring without even scratching the surface. This is a land of colorful sandstone sculpture, carved by water as the artist. Water can do incredible things when sandstone is its canvas. Given time, a tiny river here carves a grand canyon. The Grand Canyon itself is an example of what water has done to the Colorado Plateau, but in southern Utah, there are thousands of canyons sculpted from the rock by the Colorado River and its tributaries. Take a look at the mysterious Escalante River, you’ll likely agree the canyon it’s carved is equally as striking and similar to the Grand Canyon of the Colorado River. The sandstone earth in Utah is bright and it is red. It’s so red the contrast of the blue sky begins to hurt your eyes. Viewing the river at the bottom of the great red canyon, it looks as only a swathe of green trees snaking through the land. The Colorado Plateau isn’t truly a desert, it is borderline, receiving enough rain to be classified not as desert but as semi-arid or a steppe climate. All the water which falls here heads for the Colorado River, the main drainage for the area, by way of many smaller rivers like the Escalante. The Escalante etches the sandstone as it carries along, likewise, smaller streams which drain to the Escalante cut the sandstone as they travel through. An incredibly complicated maze is what we’re left with, and of course, the beauty is in the details. I went one day with my brother to explore some of these details, in the vicinity of the remote and still pristine wilderness around the Escalante River. There are so many little niches of this river to explore, it’s hard to choose what to see if you only have a couple days. The country here will call me back for further exploration time and time again. The hike we did took only a couple hours, and is actually quite far from the river itself. Peekaboo Gulch and adjacent Spooky Gulch have been carved by the rapid drainage of water during floods, carved somehow into such narrow channels through malleable stone. These are slot canyons. Hiking Peekaboo Gulch and Spooky Gulch We arrived at the Dry Fork Trailhead early in the morning and it was a springtime drizzle. My brother donned his hiking boots but his feet were chewed up. We had been having a week of extreme Utah adventure before this and now he had a blister on every toe and a festering sore on his heel. He decided he couldn’t walk and would spend the morning reading in the truck, waiting for me to do the hike. I went in Spooky Gulch. Most people will begin the loop in Peekaboo first but I had received a tip from a local to start in Spooky. I’d stand by this tip. To find Spooky, walk down from the first slick rock bench at the trailhead to come to the Dry Fork Gulch. There you will see a slot canyon entering the rock off to your left and one slightly to your right. The right hand one is Peekaboo. Walk past Peekaboo, follow the cairns leading up the wash and when you see Spooky, it will be obvious. Tentatively I walked in. I quickly found myself in the slots. I pressed on, and they just keep going farther and farther back. Boom, I heard a sound echo through. Extreme tightness for a long ways in both directions, it’s a squeeze. Hopefully it’s not a flash flood up there. Confronted by such claustrophobia, panic ensues. I found myself full of adrenaline and racing through, get out of the slots! Time to climb out of Spooky, and spooky it is. You must navigate a boulder choked chute to exit. All of a sudden I was free, the top of the spacious slick rock bench was exhilarating after coming out of the dark canyon depths. I decided it had been one of the best experiences of my life. I followed an excellent cairn trail to bring me across the plateau and to Peekaboo Gulch. Peekaboo Gulch was far less claustrophobic, just beautiful and serene, filled with artful rock formations, and had a few small obstacles to navigate. I went back to the truck, having hurried, the hike took an hour and a half. I showed my brother these pictures, and now he was convinced. He had to put his shoes back on, suffer through the pain and come see this place. He was so glad he did. I was more than happy to do the hike a second time. It was later in the day and other groups had showed up to do this fairly popular hike. You usually will have the world to yourself if you rise early in the morning. We found ourselves now stuck behind a family of 10 people and 2 dogs in Spooky Gulch. Finding it impossible to pass them, we just waited in the narrows and listened, laughing to hear them having a spooky time of their own navigating the slots. The mother screamed at the kids, the dogs barked, the sounds of shuffling, scrambling, and panic echoed back to us, we saw fur clinging to the canyon walls. Yes, hilarious traffic jams are a common occurrence on this dazzling and fun filled Utah slot canyon loop hike. Definitely put this hike on your list, it’s an experience of a lifetime. Need to Know Information If you plan to stay overnight, you can fill out a permit at the trailhead, no permit is required for a day hike. Still a good idea to check in with the BLM at the interagency visitor’s center in Escalante. The rangers there will be able to give you any advice or directions you want about the hike as well as current weather information. Rain anywhere the area can cause flash floods in the canyons. Getting There Head to the remote town of Escalante, Utah, along scenic Highway 12. Take the famous turn for Hole in the Rock Road, a well graded, 2 wheel drive gravel road. From my experience it’s a comfortable ride for about the first 17 miles. After that it gets a bit rougher, the left turn you’re looking for is 26.3 miles in, look for a sign for Dry Fork Trailhead. Take this road for .7 miles and then bear to the left, where you will see a sign “high clearance only”, the trailhead is .9 miles further. The road past the sign was terribly washed out so one side of my truck was much lower than the other side. It was a roller coaster ride! Best Time to Go The best seasons of the year to be here will be spring or fall. Summer can be ok too, but much hotter especially mid-day. In mid-July through mid-September especially it's typically monsoon season in the canyon country. Assuming the road is open, a winter hike here could potentially be quite enjoyable, but more challenging if the slick rock is icy or if there’s snow on the ground. Rangers would have up to date information on conditions. Books Utah’s Favorite Hiking Trails, by David Day. A comprehensive guide to 77 excellent trails in Utah including the Peekboo/ Spooky loop hike. The guide touches base on all aspects of the dynamic state of Utah, which can be divided into 3 regions: The Rocky Mountains, The Great Basin Desert and the Colorado Plateau Desert. These three totally different environments are sparsely populated and in fact 63% of the state is federally owned land, protected as wilderness. This book guides you through many of the endless hiking opportunities in Utah’s 5 national parks, 7 national monuments, 2 national recreation areas and 6 national forests. The author also includes 250 photos in color and black and white, as well as 80 detailed trail maps. 100 Hikes in Utah, by Steve Mann & Rhett Olson. Another great option, this book is packed with information for 100 hikes in all corners of Utah. The maps are detailed and read easily, and the book contains many photos mostly in black and white. Maps National Geographic, Canyons of the Escalante. The map I used, a beautiful edition to any map collection. This map will not replace a 7.5 minute topo map for a trip requiring extended route finding. It is, however, a useful tool for exploring the various sights off Escalante’s Hole in the Rock Road. For getting to and from the trailhead and exploring other destinations in the state, the Utah Delorme Atlas & Gazetteer can be useful. Editor's Note: This article by contributor Michael Swanbeck originally appeared in Issue 24 of TrailGroove Magazine. You can read the original article here for additional photos and content.

When temperatures never rise above freezing on a winter backpacking trip, or even for day hiking in very cold conditions your tried and true 3-season methods of carrying water may not offer the best approach. In this trail tip, we’ll take a quick look at different containers that will give you an advantage when it gets cold, as well as some other tips to keep your water in a liquid state. Storing water bottles upside down is one trick that is helpful when it comes to winter water storage. Winter Water Containers and Storage While hydration reservoirs make staying hydrated easy on summer hikes and while insulated drink tube options exist, in winter I prefer to dig out the venerable wide mouth Tritan Nalgene bottles. The wide mouth deals better with icy conditions, and the bottle provides a fair amount of heat retention simply on its own – enough that you won’t be racing against time to keep the water from freezing as you might be with lighter weight solutions. But contrary to habit, storing the bottle upside down in your pack or while in camp can help even further (with the lid well-closed, of course), as any ice will begin to form towards whatever the highest part of the bottle is at the time – stored upside down, this will keep the lid and opening ice free. While I like the Nalgene Ultralight for typical 3-season conditions, in deep winter cold the heavier Tritan excels. Nalgene does make an insulated water bottle sleeve – I haven't found something like this necessary to keep water from freezing when using the other techniques described here, but it certainly would not hurt. Water containers buried in snow for insulation Storing water inside your pack while on the move will help as well, and at night while backpacking one technique I've utilized is to keep well-sealed bottles inside my sleeping bag (preferably filled with hot water first!). Alternatively, I've had good success burying my water containers thoroughly in the snow (again upside down), which actually serves to insulate the bottles from overnight cold. This can help get you through the night. But, if you’re tired of sipping on near-freezing or perhaps only remotely warm water, consider throwing in a small vacuum insulated bottle like the Klean Kanteen insulated option, or something with more capacity (a 32oz. Hydro Flask bottle is a workable option) if you're willing to carry the weight. A vacuum insulated bottle will retain heat best, but will be the heaviest option. Final Thoughts In any case, if you're at least keeping your water in liquid form you're doing well when temperatures are bitter cold. For me, I'll be taking the Nalgene Tritan (or multiple) as my main water storage solution on most winter backpacking trips and as extra water in my pack on cold day hikes, but I always take a vacuum insulated bottle as well on any very cold winter hike or backpacking trip. Whether it’s hot coffee in the tent on a below 0 morning, sipping tea throughout the day while hiking a chilly trail, or whatever your camp beverage of choice might be while waiting for snow to melt over the stove, sipping a piping hot beverage on demand offers both a physical and mental boost when the conditions turn downright arctic. Editor's Note: This article originally appeared in Issue 26. You can read the original article here.

“Half of Colorado is beautiful and half of it is ugly, and the same is true for Oklahoma. But people only talk about the beautiful half of Colorado and the ugly half of Oklahoma.” Our friend, Steve, said this as we dined together in downtown Aspen, and he is a man who knows, as a fellow native of Oklahoma and longtime resident of Aspen, Colorado. While I think calling any of it ugly is harsh (although, understandably, if you live in Aspen everything pales by comparison), Steve has a point about the way folks view the two states. There’s no need to repeat all the good press Colorado deservedly receives for its scenery. And it may be a similar restatement of the obvious to note that Oklahoma hasn’t shaken its Dust Bowl image in spite of its diverse, well watered terrain. But in my mind the less spectacular landscapes of eastern Colorado and western Oklahoma simply reflect the more subtle beauty of the Great Plains, half a million square miles of broad, flat grasslands reaching north into Canada and south to Mexico. Conventional wisdom says it’s a place to get across as fast as possible, but I’ve discovered on my travels west that it holds many surprises for the inquisitive traveler willing to slow down and sample some of those seemingly empty places on the map. Colorado's Picture Canyon Traveling from our home near Oklahoma City to Utah in early September, 2016, my husband Bill and I decided to route through the corner of southeastern Colorado to explore one of those little-known treasures. Barely north of the Oklahoma border, we left the highway and followed the Baca County roads west to Picture Canyon, a remote outpost of the U.S. Forest Service. The landscape changed quickly as we approached the canyon, the long views of the prairie yielding to sandstone formations as the dirt road wound into a picnic area as devoid of people as the blank space on the map suggests. Picnic tables and a vault toilet are tucked against a bluff, the tables shaded by white-roofed pavilions against the heat of the sun, an unrelenting force here in July and August. Interpretive panels along a concrete path tell the story of the canyon, named for the rock art left by historic Plains Indians and their prehistoric predecessors. Here the native people found shelter and spring water in this gentle sandstone canyon amid rolling hills and low buttes. We planned to hike the Arch Rock Trail to see the rock art but it was a warm afternoon and we decided first to explore in our truck. Miles of four-wheel drive roads wind through the yucca and juniper, up and down the canyon, through deep sand and over rocks. We stopped to examine a stone ruin left by homesteaders who settled the area in the late 1880s. The remaining walls of the structure were filled with gourd vines and probably a rattlesnake or two. The hope for living off this land was lost to farmers during the Dust Bowl of the 1930s. Now it’s part of a half-million acre preserve in southeastern Colorado called the Comanche National Grasslands. Soon it was time to settle on a campsite. We would hike the next day, in the cool of the morning. Dispersed camping is allowed anywhere in the Grasslands and we found a perfect spot in a grove of cottonwoods. Gnats swarmed around my head as we set up camp but a good shot of Deep Woods Off alleviated my annoyance and my irritation faded altogether when, after dinner, we escaped to our truck-top tent. There we listened to heavy raindrops thumping on the roof as a thunderstorm passed through. When the storm dissipated, coyotes announced their presence and we fell asleep to their serenade. The next morning we set out on Arch Rock Trail, a 4-mile loop. Along the canyon walls are alcoves housing pictographs (ancient drawings or paintings on rock walls) and petroglyphs (rock carvings). There was a tour group – four people on horseback – ahead of us on the trail and when we caught up with them the guide, Laneha Everett of Canyon Journeys, invited us to tag along. Some of the markings here have astronomical significance; in particular, those in Crack Cave are illuminated by the sun’s rays at dawn only during the spring and autumn equinox. The Chamber of Commerce in nearby Springfield, Colorado, sponsors equinox festivals and tours of the cave to celebrate the events. Crack Cave is protected by locked metal gates, but another rock shelter I climbed into has markings that look much the same. Everett says that most people believe the inscriptions are of similar origin. “Traditional thinking has them down as calendrical markings for the passing of time. The non-traditional line of thinking says they are of the alphabet Ogam (an ancient Celtic system of writing) and could even potentially give a message such as 'water found below.’ The marks are often found with solar alignment sites throughout the Oklahoma Panhandle and southeastern Colorado.” Everett adds that Picture Canyon is unusual in that it houses several sites with many other types of markings similar to other ancient languages. “The statistics of coincidence seems pretty high here,” she says. Some claim that five ancient languages are represented in the rock shelter I explored. “Picture Canyon offers interesting problems,” says Everett. “Either there are ancient languages, which in the case of Crack Cave were deciphered and the message then proven by the presence of an equinox solar alignment site, or the Native Americans were writing in unusual ways that were highly similar to ancient languages from other parts of the world.” There are two other loop trails here – Homestead and Outlaw – with a combined distance of about 10 miles, including spur trails. The spurs lead to rock art, homestead ruins and Crack Cave, and a rock arch and rock molar. Forest roads accessible by vehicle – including some of those we explored in our truck – are also integrated into this trail system. Camping at Carrizo Canyon After our hike we continued our journey west but on our return from Utah a week later, we camped at nearby Carrizo Canyon. Arriving as the sun set, we sought a camp site right away. The area lacks the web of forest roads we enjoyed in Picture Canyon, but we found an out-of-the-way spot to camp in a cattle pasture. There on the edge of the canyon, perched on a slab of sandstone trimmed with prickly pear, we grilled steaks bought in the last town to celebrate our last night of camping. Next morning, fresh Colorado peaches added sweetness to our breakfast before we hiked the 1-mile loop trail along the east fork of Carrizo Creek. At the trailhead, we greeted a young couple also preparing for the hike. In the high grass of late summer, the trail was difficult to follow and we ended up bushwhacking through a labyrinth of cottonwoods clogged with flood debris, agreeing that winter would be a better time to explore. We waved to two working cowboys as we left Carrizo Canyon, then turned southeast toward home. On back roads we skirted Oklahoma’s high point – not quite 5,000 feet elevation at Black Mesa, just south of the Colorado border in what was once “No Man’s Land,” now the Oklahoma Panhandle. This is what Steve calls the “ugly half” of Oklahoma and, while these buttes are not the 10,000-foot, aspen-covered, snow-capped peaks of the Rocky Mountains, they do have their charm. Lucky for us, these natural treasures of the southern plains will remain obscure as long as most people consider the area less than appealing, and perhaps it’s better not to dispel that notion. We saw a total of eight people in our visits to the two canyons – six of them on horseback. Solitude is one of the benefits of slow travel through the Great Plains and I suspect there is little danger of that changing. Need to Know Information Canyon Journeys, based in Pritchett, Colorado, offers tours of Baca County heritage sites, educating people through interpretation and excursions into and of local legends, historical and pre-historical sites, wildlife, plant life, geology, and astronomy. Their goal is to foster the desire to preserve, support and love the area and its western culture. Springfield, Colorado and Boise City, Oklahoma are the closest towns with dining and lodging. More information can also be found in this Forest Service document. Best Time to Go It’s best to visit in fall or spring, and even winter can be pleasant for hiking here at times. Summers are usually quite hot. Getting There To reach Picture Canyon travel to Campo, Colorado (20 miles south of Springfield, Colorado and about 28 miles north of Boise City, Oklahoma) on Highway 287 and turn west on County Road J. Continue for 10 miles, then turn left (south) at County Road 18 for 5 miles. Turn right (south) at the Picture Canyon sign and continue for 1 mile to the parking lot. To reach Carrizo Canyon, from Springfield, Colorado drive south on Highway 287 for 17 miles. At County Road M Turn right (west) and continue for 22 miles, then turn left (south) at Forest Service Road 539 for 1.9 miles to parking lot. Books and Maps Hiking Colorado: A Guide to the State’s Greatest Hiking Adventures (Falcon Guide) and a good gazetteer is always helpful. We used the Colorado Road and Recreation Atlas by Benchmark Maps. Editor's Note: This article originally appeared in Issue 35 of TrailGroove Magazine. You can read the original article here for additional photos and content.

A staple technique used in pre-packaged backpacking meals, freeze-drying is a process by which food (typically already cooked or a product that could be eaten raw) is frozen and the pressure in a chamber lowered. As a result moisture in the product is almost completely removed and foods that are freeze-dried can last years or even decades without refrigeration. A commercially available freeze-dried meal prior to rehydration. Freeze-Dried Pros and Cons Compared to at-home or commercial air dehydration, which uses heat, freeze-dried products retain more nutrients, taste, and original textures when rehydrated compared to a dehydrated product. Of course this does come with a couple drawbacks – freeze-drying at home is typically out of reach for the home backpacking chef, and freeze-dried foods are noticeably more expensive. More Freeze-Dried and Backpacking Meal Resources See our Top Ten Freeze Dried Backpacking Meals article for more on some of our favorite freeze-dried meals, and for a wide selection of freeze-dried meals on the market, you can see this page at REI Co-op. See our guide to Dehydrating Your Own Backpacking Meals at Home for some quick tips on creating your own meals prior to a trip. Editor’s Note: This article originally appeared in Issue 54 of TrailGroove Magazine. You can read the original article here.

In mountainous areas most live in the valleys and often hike in the mountains – normally a colder environment as you gain elevation. However in winter, often a surface temperature inversion will form in these areas as cold air, in contrast to the norm of temperature decreasing several degrees for every 1000 feet gained, remains trapped in the valleys, and often along with the any air pollution that may exist. Inversions are likely to happen during periods with long winter nights, calm winds, and clear skies. The long clear nights create a scenario where the ground and air closest to the surface is allowed to cool the its greatest extent, is not mixed into warmer air higher in the atmosphere by wind, and the resulting cold air naturally settles in lowest spots and is overrun with warm air. Typical Winter Hiking / Inversion Considerations This is in contrast to typical weather patterns where the sun warms the air closest to the ground, with that air gradually losing heat as it rises. While those below sub-zero winter hikes and backpacking trips can be quite rewarding, taking advantage of an inversion may find you leaving your house in near arctic conditions to find chilly, but pleasant hiking weather higher in the hills. As such, inversions can at times, be a winter hiker’s delight. To learn more about weather patterns and phenomenon Peterson’s Field Guide to Weather is a good resource. See our Winter Backpacking Guide for more on winter backpacking considerations. Editor’s Note: This Jargon installment originally appeared in Issue 32 of TrailGroove Magazine. You can read the original article here.

Vermilion Cliffs National Monument is a vast plateau in north central Arizona and adjoining southern Utah. The 280,000-acre (roughly 20 miles east-west by 20 miles north-south) monument includes the rugged and beautiful Paria Plateau and Coyote Buttes North and South. The plateau is also known as the Sand Hills. Many hikers and photographers visit The Wave, Paw Hole, Cottonwood Cove, and White Pocket. All those are worthy destinations, but going beyond yields even more impressive hikes, views, and experiences. The plateau towers nearly 3,000 feet above the plains to the east, and is bounded by Highway 89A and Marble Canyon on the east, Highway 89A on the south, House Rock Road on the west, and Buckskin Gulch and the Paria River on the north. Everywhere on the mesa are Navajo sandstone outcrops and loose sand. The sandstone originated as a huge wind-blown sand dune field, which was subsequently compacted and cemented into rock and is now eroding into a plethora of bizarre and unique shapes to see and photograph. The dune remnants are visible as striated layers, towers of sandstone, hoodoos, “brain rocks,” and strange twisted layers. Driving in the monument is time-consuming even with a high clearance four-wheel drive vehicle, and impossible for a typical passenger vehicle. Hiking in these areas is not easy either, as there are few established trails. Exploring the plateau is a “look and explore” type of experience. Give yourself plenty of time to wander, backtrack, and take pictures. And then take more pictures! One could easily spend several weeks visiting all the amazing locations in this area and still need more weeks to see the areas you missed the first time! A Vermilion Cliffs & Grand Staircase Trip Begins In September 2021, my usual hiking buddy Ward and I took a week-long trip to visit the plateau and to see more of it than we had been able to in past trips. This was our fourth trip to the monument, and by far the most extensive and inclusive. On previous trips, we had visited Coyote Buttes North (The Wave) and Coyote Buttes South (Paw Hole and Cottonwood Cove) as well as White Pocket (see TrailGroove Issue 33). For several years we had been wanting to camp on the “edge of the Vermilions,” and this was our chance! Peppermint Wave in Arizona's Vermilion Cliffs Arizona's Vermilion Cliffs Our trip started with a long day of highway driving, ending at Tuba City, AZ where we stayed at the beautiful Moenkopi Inn. Continuing the next morning, we arrived at the plateau after crossing Marble Canyon on Highway 89A and entering the national monument from the southern end of House Rock Road. We headed onto the plateau by the best road into the interior of the monument – BLM 1017. Once we reached Pine Tree Pockets, the real fun began. With my sister’s borrowed 4Runner, we were able to travel on the plateau over miles and miles of single-lane tracks, often with deep sand. This first day, we crossed the nearly 20-mile-wide plateau from west to east on a variety of tracks, passing through a herd of cattle in Pinnacle Valley, and stopping at several places on the way, including The Beehives. We arrived at the end of the track at the Soap Creek Tank area and parked. In the area near the end of the road is a good stand of scattered mature ponderosa pines and plenty of beautiful exposed sandstone. Lots to see even if you don’t go much farther, but we had a destination – the edge of the cliff! Backpacks on, we hiked in an easterly direction, knowing that it was just over a mile (as the California Condor flies) to the edge of the plateau. Between our parking spot and the cliff, however, was a ridge that was a couple hundred feet above us, and then about 300 feet back down to the level of the plateau’s edge. Much of the area was easy hiking once we found our way up and down the sometimes steep sides of the ridge. Up and down and across Soap Creek Pasture we went until we got to the eastern edge, then we wandered a bit to find the ideal camping spot. It was a beautiful area, with great views that were somewhat hindered due to smoke from a fire somewhere nearby on the north rim of the Grand Canyon. From the edge of the plateau the cars on the thin gray line that is Highway 89A appeared to be about a pixel wide. Beyond the highway is Marble Canyon, through which the Colorado River flows between Lee’s Ferry and the confluence with the Little Colorado River on its way to the Grand Canyon. One of the highlights that evening was spotting a couple of California Condors, one directly overhead! The next morning we hiked back to our parking spot (about 1.3 miles), then drove back west and north to stop at Joe’s Ranch. This is one of several old ranches on the plateau. Beginning in the 1880s and through several other owners until the 2000s, the ranchers raised sheep, Angora goats, and cattle. Joe’s cabin, some outbuildings, and fences are still present on the site. The area around the ranch is now owned by the Grand Canyon Trust. We parked and hiked around Joe’s, then drove farther west and then north through Cathedral Valley. We drove, stopped, and hiked numerous times most of the rest of the day, with many photos shot. Included in these stops, we saw the Cowboy Hat, Flame Wave, Pink Sink, as well as several unnamed areas (many of the names of these barely-known places came from a hiker named Dave Coppedge, who has explored much more of the plateau than I ever will). We encountered just one section of road that was too steep/too sandy, so we had to turn back – the only time on the whole trip! Our camping destination for the night was White Pocket, a place we had visited several years ago. Just to the northeast of White Pocket, there are a series of mesas that the aforementioned Dave has explored. We decided to hike between the two nearest mesas, going northeastward on the east side of Spur Mesa, then across the valley to hike southwestward in the afternoon on the west side of Caterpillar Mesa. We ended up hiking around 5 miles over 5 hours, with over 600 feet of descent and ascent. During all this, we saw absolutely no sign of any other hikers having ever been in the area, although surely there have been a few (including Dave). Along the way we saw Peppermint Wave and the Paria Puppets (Dave’s names) and the Stacked Pancakes (my name). It wasn’t an easy hike, with many ups and downs and no trail at all – just sand, junipers, low brush, and what I called “those dang yellow flowers” which were everywhere, about 3 to 4 feet tall and stiff-stemmed. Definitely not an easy hike, but very scenic! We got back to our campsite at White Pocket in mid-afternoon, and after a bit of rest I decided that since we were there, I would wander a bit and take a few pictures. Mid-afternoon is not the best time for photography, but still…I could not resist! Once I arrived back at the vehicle, we packed up and headed toward town (Page, AZ in this case). Having driven about 50 miles of sandy tracks over three days (and not getting stuck once!). I handed the keys over to Ward at Pine Tree Pockets for the drive to Page where we got a room for the night (and showers!) and had dinner at The Dam Bar and Grill. Sidestep Canyon in Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument For some added off the beaten track hiking, we next went to the southern part of the nearby Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument (GSENM) to visit Sidestep Canyon. Sidestep is the next canyon west of the better known Wahweap Hoodoos. I’ve had this canyon on my wish list for years, and it did not disappoint! Our hike started at White Rocks Trailhead and went northeast following a dry (at least this time) creek bed for the first mile or so, until we came to a concrete dam blocking further travel. From that point we had to climb up about 300 feet to the top of the mesa and then followed a fairly well travelled path to the edge of the canyon. We saw the upper part of Colorful Canyon (must return someday to see more!) just before we arrived at Sidestep Canyon. The trail followed the southern edge of the canyon for a good distance before finally petering out at a side canyon. We could see a couple possible ways down into the canyon, all quite steep and sketchy-looking. There was one obvious better way down beyond the side canyon, but we opted to turn back at that point. We did get into the upper part of the canyon before heading back to the truck. This ended up being just over 7 miles of hiking with about 560 feet of climbing and descending. That night we camped at White House Campground, saw a beautiful sunset, and had a good view of the Milky Way. The next morning, we packed up and headed north on Cottonwood Canyon Road in GSENM to visit The Box of the Paria River and Red Top. We had been to a nearby and better-known area called Yellow Rock years ago and I had noticed this large obvious red outcropping to the south and had wanted to return. Today was the day! We hiked from the truck for a short distance to the river and then were in and out of the meandering flow (it was less than 6 inches deep in most places) for the next mile and a half, at which point we climbed out on a steep slope, ascending about 400 feet in less than a half mile. After the climb, things got even more interesting – scenic views in every direction and oh so much color! Red, beige, orange, yellow, tan, colors without names, more yellow, and the various greens of the vegetation. It was an up and down cross-country hike the rest of the way to Red Top, and by this time I realized that someday I am going to need to get my knee replaced. The hike ended up being about 5.3 miles with 690 feet of ascent/descent. I suffered most of the way back to the car, but it was worth it for the scenery we saw. The Vermilion Cliffs National Monument and nearby parts of Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument offer a stunning variety of scenery and hiking opportunities. In Vermilion Cliffs, we drove about 50 miles and barely scratched the surface, passing by many scenic outcrops that beg to be explored. In Grand Staircase we merely explored the edge of a monument that covers over 1.8 million acres. If you need to get away from civilization, these are the places for you! During the hikes we took on this trip, we did not encounter a single hiker, with the exception of my short time at White Pocket. The scenery was just as dramatic, and even more so in spots, and the photographic possibilities were endless. There is so much to see in both monuments that I am already planning my next trip to explore even more seldom-seen spots. Need to Know Information General information on Vermilion Cliffs National Monument can be found here. These areas are isolated with no services. The roads are difficult to drive on. You can check conditions before driving – the park service has three nearby ranger stations: The Paria Contact Station, the Big Water Visitor Center, and the Kanab Visitor Center. Cell phone coverage is spotty. We took extra water, extra food, spare tires, and supplies to help get our vehicle unstuck. Best Time to Go Spring and fall offer temperatures that are more moderate and comfortable than summer. Summers can be brutally hot (my first trip to the Wave many years ago was on July 4th when it was nearly 100 degrees). Winters can be cold, with occasional snow. I have not yet visited in the winter, but have seen photos of the area with snow, and it looks amazing! Getting There From Page, AZ go west on Highway 89 approximately 36 miles, or from Kanab, UT go east approximately 39 miles on Highway 89, then turn south on House Rock Road. Drive approximately 20 miles to Pine Tree Road which heads east onto the plateau (there is a corral on the west side of the road at the intersection). House Rock Road is usually passable by any vehicle, but can become impassable after rain or snow. If you are coming from the North Rim of the Grand Canyon, go north to Highway 89a at Jacob Lake, then turn right onto 89a, drive about 14 miles to House Rock Road then turn left and go north to Pine Tree Road. Maps and Books National Geographic Trails Illustrated Map #859 (Paria Canyon, Kanab) and Trails Illustrated Map #714 (Grand Staircase Paunsaugunt Plateau) cover all the areas driven and hiked in this article. Individual USGS topographic maps are also available: For the parts of the Paria Plateau that we travelled on this trip: Poverty Flat, Wrather Arch, One Toe Ridge, and The Big Sink. For Sidestep Canyon: Nipple Butte and Lower Coyote Springs. For help planning your trip to and from the trailhead as well as exploring other destinations in the area, the Delorme Arizona Atlas & Gazetteer and the Utah Road & Recreation Atlas from Benchmark Maps can be useful. For Red Top: Calico Peak and Fivemile Valley. The Paria Plateau is discussed in depth in Hiking and Exploring the Paria River by Michael R. Kelsey and is a great source of information, including the roads, the sights, and the history of Vermilion Cliffs National Monument. Also included in the book are areas from Bryce Canyon to the south through the western parts of Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument. Editor's Note: This article originally appeared in Issue 52 of TrailGroove Magazine. You can read the original article here for additional photos and content.