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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.

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.

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.

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.

I'm actually anxiously still waiting for a freeze-dried ribeye meal to hit the market...

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, 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 HV UL4 tent ($800, 91 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. At some point and once the group size gets larger, taking multiple smaller separate tents will 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.

As my son and I took the mandatory trail class by Parks Canada we were warned of many things that one might encounter. Along the shore there were the tides that can block beach routes and river crossings, fast changing surge channels that were responsible for the only death documented on the trail, and the remote possibility of a tsunami. Along the West Coast Trail, time and logistics turns more by a maritime clock, whether by tide or ferry. The trail itself owes its creation to the sea, initially created as mariner rescue trail alongside the northern, lee shore to the entrance to the strait of Juan de Fuca, also known as the ship "graveyard of the Pacific". Along the shore sections of the trail metal bits and pieces of these wrecks can still easily be seen. The trail consists of the main overland trail, as well as many options to walk the shoreline that in total extends 75 km (47 miles) in length. To permit passage of the shoreline, Parks Canada attaches a tide table to their map. On the map proper, locations are listed showing the maximum tide height allowing passage, while other sections of shoreline are shown as off limits due to surge channels or cliffs. By land, there were the usual suspect hazards, and many manmade. Already that year someone had to be rescued from the trail. Others had been injured by crashing through rotten boardwalk planks. The trail while refurbished in the 80s has been slowly decaying in many sections, with not enough federal or user funds to do all the work needed. Nevertheless, the physical infrastructure of the trail is impressive; 38 ladder "sets", five suspended cable cars across rivers, and 108 bridges. Hikers also pass two lighthouses. The trip was planned as an adventure for my 16 year old son and myself. We had done many hikes through Scouting, and I had wanted to find a hike that we both would find challenging. The number of risks detailed in the class initially sounded a bit overblown. However, the speaker got our attention when we found out that the speaker herself had to be rescued on one trip, and that 100 people are medically evacuated and another 200 become injured (but hobble off) each season. With those sobering thoughts in mind, we left for the day, to return the next morning to catch our starting ferry. There are two "ferries" (actually small boats) that enable you to traverse the 47 mile trail that are run by the people of the First Nations who are the guardians of the trail. Coming from the south in Port Renfrew, one takes a remarkably short crossing (3 minutes) across Gordon River to the trail start. Roughly half way along the trail is another ferry (about 5 minutes) across the extremely fast, tidal driven Nitinat Narrows. Both crossings costs are added to your trail fee, and both ferries have particular hours of operation. After a certain point in the day (4 or 5 pm), you are just out of luck til the next day. This can leave you scrambling for a place to camp as no campsites are located in the vicinity of these locations. One can hike the trail from either direction. South to north covers the most difficult land sections while you have a full pack, while the north to south starts easy and becomes progressively more difficult. We chose south to north for two reasons, 1) I wanted to get my old legs over the worst section while somewhat fresh, and 2) that direction worked best for our plan to take the water taxi as a celebration of our journey. Impressions of the West Coast Trail This is not your normal Forest service or National Park trail in any way, shape or form. Progress is very slow except for the most northerly 12 kms of trail. Movement in many spots feels more quadrapedal than bipedal as you are hanging on trees, roots, ropes, climbing ladders, and wading through calf deep mud. We found these challenges were well handled by a single bamboo hiking stick due to the ability to position hands at just the right position for the unpredictable climbing, descending, and balancing requirements the trail demanded. Along the shoreline, stride is constantly being adjusted either due to slipping on seaweed, jumping or climbing between rock formations or trudging through soft sand. The trail makes you a very fast learner about which seaweed species one can walk on and which will land you on your backside or worse. Traveling by either land or shoreline is very much a full body work out. While individuals have somehow managed to run the trail in less than 24 hours (they must have had angels protecting them from broken ankles), for most experienced backpackers their daily mileage expectations need to be greatly scaled back. The park map and hiker preparation guide recommends taking 2 days to cover the first 22 kms (13.5 miles) of trail heading north. We took 2.5 days to do this section, partially to do more beach hiking that required staging campsites for tides, but I would say that those first 22 kms were very challenging and tiring. The guide also suggests taking 5-7 days for the entire trail. We did the trail in 6 days. In retrospect 7 days would have been more appropriate for myself. On 2 days, my son urged me on an extra 3 and 7 kms in order to keep up with the cohort of folks that we began the trail with. Such is traveling with the young and nimble! For us packing as light as possible was important under these strenuous conditions that required balance and radical weight shifting maneuvers. We entered the trail with 34 and 38 pound packs fully loaded with 2 liters of water. We saw other packs that were both much lighter and much heavier. Surprises on the Trail It was a wonderful experience for my son and I to get to know the hikers that we camped with each night. There was a Swiss family of 3, a German fellow, and a large Canadian contingent including folks who had hiked the trail before. Sharing a fire, relaxing, and telling our war stories of the trail each evening with folks from varied places added much to the trip. The extended one on one time with my son, and seeing him fully engage in our route planning each day will be memories I will never forget. Due to the popularity of the trail and limited campsites, if one is looking for a solitary wilderness experience, this is probably not the trip for you. For these folks, I would suggest looking into the North Coast Trail at the northern tip of Vancouver Island which my early research suggested was less well known. For those tired of reserving campsites, you will be pleased to know that beyond the start date reservation requirement, the West Coast Trail has no campsite reservation system or total hike duration. The downside is that popular campsites like Tsusiat Falls or pre-ferry staging campsites such as Thrasher can get really full. For such locations early arrival in the day can be very helpful. One of the pleasantries of the trail are the two oases of quality, fresh cooked food! Approximately 31 kms (day 3 on our trip) north is Chez Moniques. Located on First Nations land, it is a covered outdoor eatery where you get a well decked out burger. Heaven! Similarly, another 12 km further up the trail (day 4 on our trip), at the Nitinat ferry dock one can get salmon, and fresh boiled crab taken from a pen hanging off the dock that was so naturally sweet you thought it had already been dipped in butter. Lastly, I can't speak more favorably of using the Juan de Fuca Water Taxi that runs between Pt Renfrew and Bamfield. While one must have contingency plans to make this work, it is the perfect culmination to the trip, as you get to see the trail from the water. One must put in an early reservation as there is just 1 trip a day that leaves at fixed times, and the daily trip can be cancelled due to weather. Therefore, one must have at least a day of flexibility. For us, this flex was best placed after the hike in Bamfield because if you miss your start date, your trail reservation is lost. Brian Grisbone is a fantastic guide, and the trip is more of a field excursion than a taxi ride. Brian, who assists biologists researching marine mammals, stops several times along the way to observe feeding gray whales and to watch the antics on sea lion-filled rock islands. Seeing the gray whales was a real treat for us as we could only hear them blow offshore on our last days trekking north. Compared to the $80 per person to sit on a bouncing bus on logging roads, the water taxi is really an excellent value for the extra $55 (at the time this article was written). Costs The trek is not cheap. On a per hiker basis, trail reservations at the time of this writing cost $28 CAN, and $28.50 CAN per night, with trail ferry costs at $32 CAN for both. Much of the cost of the trail fee is to cover emergency injury extractions. One nice aspect is that if you do become injured and are extracted by Parks Canada, the cost is covered by your trail fee. Add in the water taxi at $135 CAN per person, one is looking at just over $300 CAN per person for logistics from trailhead and return. Money well spent in our book....the trip was awesome and one we will always remember! I recall fondly asking our Canadian friends who had done the trail multiple times, "why more than once" during the harder days of mud and soft sand. The reply was, "with time you only remember the good stuff". Within six months, I completely understood and agreed with their explanation. If you are up for a challenge, physically and logistically, and crave a change of pace from mountain trekking, this trip is worth a look! To obtain a trail reservation, dates for June 15-September 15th open on April 17th. I would recommend using their online reservation system for high use periods simply because the online system begins to take reservations at 12 am, while phone reservations do not open up until 8 am. Best Time to Go The trail is open for overnight hikers from May 1st to September 30th. From June 15th to September 15th, reservations and hiker number limits are in place. Weather along the exposed coast is unpredictable at any time in the season. The most popular time is August due to the slightly improved odds on weather, however early September can also be quite nice. Getting There Access to Vancouver Island is most easily obtained by the BC Ferry from Vancouver, BC (Tsawwassen) or from Port Angeles, WA (Black Ball Ferry). The drive from Victoria to Pt Renfrew is approximately 1.5 hours, and Victoria to Bamfield is 4 to 4.5 hours and includes driving on logging roads. For those without a car, West Coast Trail Express offers a shuttle, and includes a pickup option in Victoria. Juan de Fuca Express Water Taxi is another option. Books & Maps Hiking the West Coast Trail: A Pocket Guide. Tim Leadem. 2006. Greystone Books. This book is really useful as it describes the hike starting from both directions. An additional comprehensive guide is also available. Other resources include the Utmost West Coast Trail Hiking Guide and more reading can be found here at Amazon.com. You can find an official map of the trail and additional information here. Editor's Note: This article by contributor Jim Grob originally appeared in Issue 15 of TrailGroove Magazine. You can read the original article here for additional photos and content.

As I approach a place as remote as Grand Staircase-Escalante in the middle of a hot summer I know I'm not going to find something tangible that I require to continue existing. I will, however, encounter some things that I want. Beauty, solitude, adventure. Maybe I'll find inspiration. Challenge. Do I need any of those things? Perhaps not, but what a dull existence it would be without all of them. My use of the word remote is not an exaggeration. This is a remote place, in a remote section of a sparsely populated region. That's a mouthful...let that sink in for a minute. There are 2,933 square miles of the monument, and the two nearest towns contain less than 1000 permanent residents combined. To put it in perspective, that's nearly as large as Delaware and Rhode Island put together, with considerably less than 1% of the population. This monument is quite new in the grand scheme of things, which means it's vastly under-developed when compared to some of the long-established national parks or monuments. That means a lot more opportunity for adventure. Depending on your point of view, being so remote can offer both pros and cons. The area is loaded with slot canyons formed by violent busts of flood water carving out the hard desert stone. They are some of the most fascinating and beautiful places to explore. Escalante offers some canyons that are easy to access and traverse, and some that require professional canyoneer guides to locate and navigate. Hiking Wolverine Canyon This article will focus on a lesser-known hike: Wolverine Canyon. In my experience, I have found Wolverine to be fairly straightforward and less extreme than some other Utah canyon hikes. On the hike described in this article through Wolverine, I was mostly concerned about storms and heat. This hike can provide a peaceful, fascinating, and beautiful environment to spend the better part of a day. This is certainly a quiet hike, too. If you go in a less-popular season as I did, you'll likely have absolute solitude on a trail like this. After leaving the main road out of Boulder, Utah, I did not see a single person. No trucks on the road, no hiker’s vehicles in the parking area, no backpackers...not even livestock! There hadn't been an entry in the trail log for two days. With all the elements that make slot canyons so appealing to adventurers, I know weather is always a factor. I like to speak with a ranger at the BLM office in Escalante before heading out to get more info regarding the potential for rain over the area I'm interested in hiking, and to get up to date info on road conditions. Unexpected floods turn violent in a hurry down here, carrying rocks, trees, sand, dirt, and anything else in their path. Unfortunately, there's no shortage of horror stories of those folks who ended up at the wrong place at the wrong time. While one could potentially get to this location in a car, knowing that the roads can wash out or turn very slick after rains, my drive to the trailhead is in a 4WD. My hike begins at a fenced entrance near a pull-off from the dirt road. It's open desert here with almost no opportunity for shade, so I bring as much water as I can carry, sunscreen, and a wide-brimmed hat. Shortly after beginning the hike, evidence of the cattle grazing is displayed, often in the form of sun-bleached bones of the less-fortunate livestock. I noticed several morbid trail cairns in the form of vertebra, jawbones, and other skeletal remains. Desert culture, I suppose, but it serves as a reminder to respect the land, that's for certain. Like all canyon hikes, the route is likely to flank or use a wash as the path. This trail is no exception. In this case, it criss-crosses a wash many times until entering the canyon proper. After about a mile, remnants of an ancient forest make themselves apparent in the form of huge petrified logs. And I do mean huge! Some of them are up to 20 feet in length, with a 5 or 6 foot circumference. Wolverine Canyon is actually home to the largest collection of petrified wood outside of Arizona's Petrified Forest. Leave them where you find them, though...it's illegal to take them with you. I must say, I thoroughly enjoyed unleashing my imagination around these ancient relics. They're around 225 million years old. To my mind, that's pretty much incomprehensible in any practical way. Where there is now desert, there was once a swampy forest, and this is all that remains. What kind of creatures made these trees their home? What sort of beasts sharpened their claws on the bark? It's fascinating to think about, especially while walking among tangible evidence. As though the petrified forest wasn't enough, I felt as though I were transported millions of years back in time as soon as I reached the canyon proper. It's pure, raw earth here. Boulders larger than full-size pickup trucks tossed from the red cliffs dominate the periphery. I wondered how often these fall, and how spectacular it would be to witness it happening. Well, it would only be ideal if you're not in its path, of course. In some places, it looks as though it happened a few days ago. As though someone strapped TNT to the upper canyon walls and just blasted it all away. There's little apparent erosion like one may find in a wash or creek bed, just giant red squares and rectangles strewn about. Underfoot, the amount of petrified wood has remained significant. Large logs weighing several hundred pounds can be seen all throughout this hike, which is a reminder of the astounding power of floodwater. I struggled mightily to hoist a small section of log, but these temporary rivers are capable of tossing them around like rag dolls. Another mortality reminder, for sure. Deeper in the canyon, the walls gain height while losing width. Not in an intimidating way, but certainly noticeable. It's never narrow enough to earn the slot canyon designation. A tank could likely be squeezed through the majority of it, so there's no scrambling, squeezing, or claustrophobic nightmares here. Another feature that introduces itself rather dramatically are the 'amphitheaters'. Found at curves in the river's path, these overhangs loom above the trail and help create some interesting acoustics for the singing traveler. They are carved out by the brute force of floodwaters over time, which is another mind-boggling feat to ponder on this quiet hike. Pressing on further, the canyon walls seem to vary wildly turn after turn. Some are flat, with multi-hued streaks running vertically, as though they were hewn by an ax-wielding giant. One swift, clean cut. Others are craggy and porous like a giant red coral reef. Much like the oceanic reefs, some critters find refuge in these pocked walls. Tiny lizards scurry along the facades as though they're defying gravity. Birds claim some of the lofty miniature caves for their nests, high above the flood waters that will arrive with the monsoons of late summer and autumn. What a view they must have! Some walls in particular stand out. Rounding another shaded bend about halfway into the hike, an intricate pattern was proudly displayed about 30 feet up an orange canyon wall. It seemed to have an eye-like quality to it, and I didn't notice any other similar patterns in the canyon. The explanations for these observations can be left for the geologists, but the diversity of texture and color in a single canyon is quite fascinating. Approaching the last section of the canyon, the walls squeeze to their most narrow about a mile or so short of the terminus. Again, not quite slot canyon narrow, but enough to be obvious. There are still large pieces of petrified wood, and they aid in making this one of the more beautiful and colorful sections of the canyon. Soon, the walls open up to a wide gap again before its confluence with Horse Canyon. There's a great opportunity for a loop hike here. My schedule didn't permit my attempt so I can't detail it, but it looks pretty appealing. If you hang a left at Horse Canyon, you will meet with Little Death Hollow after a short while, which can eventually be looped back to the parking area. Rangers would likely have more information. Apparently backpackers may encounter difficulty squeezing their packs through the narrows of Little Death Hollow. Even though I only planned on doing the 10 mile round-tripper, I brought more than a gallon of water. 100 ounces of that was in an insulated Camelbak and loaded with ice cubes at the onset of the hike. It was still fairly cold at the end of the day, which was quite a nice luxury. I also had a handheld breadcrumb-style GPS unit, which isn't much use in the canyon, but was helpful when trying to trace my steps in a place where the trail isn't always apparent. An emergency GPS beacon was also in my pack. In a place like this, I was worried about even a twisted ankle and the peace of mind was worth the weight. Peace of mind lifts the metaphorical weight off your shoulders anyway, right? Back to the Trailhead Speaking of taking weight off my shoulders, it was now time to turn around and head back to the truck. This was also my last day in Escalante, so I made sure to take my time and soak in as much of this desert as possible. As flat and 'easy' as this hike is supposed to be, the heat had finally got to me. Though I only had 1.5 miles remaining, the fact that it had been 97 in the shade for most of the day had taken its mental and physical toll. Our local star had relented and slipped behind the canyon walls. The rock and sand had soaked up all those rays though, and they were still spitting heat and cooking my feet. Though I had plenty of water left, it was hot. I knew I had to take it easy the rest of the way. After plodding along in the waning light with several long breaks, I beheld the mercy I sought: My trusty Nissan, complete with an ice filled cooler in the back. Thankfully, the two bricks of ice stood up to the heat. I stuck my head under the cooler's drain spigot and let the melt water cool the rest of me off. These are the moments that make hiking in the heat worth the trouble. That relief...there's nothing quite as satisfying. It feels like victory. Information Getting There From Boulder, Utah, take the Burr Trail Road (100) east to the Wolverine Loop Road (110). Continue along the Wolverine Loop approximately 11 miles to the signed trailhead parking area. Maps Canyons of the Escalante Grand Staircase-Escalante NM National Geographic Trails Illustrated map. For getting to and from the trailhead an atlas like the Utah Delorme Atlas & Gazetteer can be useful. Books Hiking Grand Staircase-Escalante & the Glen Canyon Region (A Guide to the Best Hiking Adventures in Southern Utah). All images in this article Copyright © Sean Sparbanie. Editor's Note: This article by contributor Sean Sparbanie originally appeared in Issue 19 of TrailGroove Magazine. You can read the original article here for additional photos and content.

I spent a Thanksgiving break backpacking up to Guadalupe Peak. We camped at the site near the top. It can get very windy up there many times of the year and that site is fairly exposed with limited tree cover. It was a chore setting up camp and boiling water that evening! Very worth it to watch the sunrise on the peak!

This is a great meal in the shoulder-seasons as it warms you up and the citrus from the lime offers fresh flavors and really enhances what might otherwise be a fairly mundane dish. Clean up is easy, too, as you only need one pot for this dish. This has become one of my preferred dishes for dry camps since the water required is minimal compared to most pasta or rice meals or freeze-dried dinners. It also offers options for tailoring it to your tastes, since the type of jerky you use can change things a bit – I prefer to go with Krave Chili Lime Jerky, which is on the spicier side of the spectrum. If possible, you will want to use jerky that is already fairly tender although most jerky becomes supple after it’s added to the noodles and immersed in the boiling water. Ingredients (Makes One Filling Serving) One box of A Taste of Thai Pad Thai Noodles 2.5 ounces jerky (Chef’s Cut or Krave recommended) Small avocado Cilantro and lime (optional) At Home Pack the contents of the Pad Thai noodle box and jerky. Bring along a small avocado, as close to ripe as possible if you plan to eat it on the first night or a bit more firm if you plan to wait a few days before preparing this meal. Cilantro and lime are great options to add more flavor to this dish. If bringing cilantro, I’ve found that it is best to place it in a small ziplock back and to not cut it prior to packing it. At Camp Pour contents of Pad Thai noodles into pot with 8 oz. of water. Bring to a boil. After three minutes, drop in jerky – shredding it with your fingers into smaller pieces as you drop it in. Boil for an additional minute or until noodles are soft. Cover and let sit for a few minutes until it is cool enough to eat. While it is covered, slice the avocado and lime. I typically add some lime juice, stir, then add the avocado slices and cilantro and add more lime juice on top. This seems to help spread the citrus taste throughout the ingredients. Options You can easily turn this into a filling vegetarian meal by skipping the jerky and using a larger avocado. For those looking for a dinner with more heat, adding diced jalapenos is a good option. A Taste of Thai Red Curry Noodles can also be used for those seeking an even spicier dish. If you’re looking for an easy to cook meal that doesn’t use much water but is still savory, this is a great entree to keep in mind. The ingredients are stable for a few days into most trips, although the cilantro can sometimes start to fade after a few days depending on the climate. Editor's Note: This recipe originally appeared in Issue 43 of TrailGroove Magazine. You can read the original article here.

Just the name Fiery Gizzard sounds like an adventure doesn’t it? The Cumberland Plateau is known for spectacular waterfalls, spring wildflowers, and panoramic views overlooking wild gorges extending for miles in the distance. The Fiery Gizzard Trail has a little bit of everything for the hiker or backpacker looking for a true wilderness experience any time of year. The official name of Fiery Gizzard is the Grundy Forest State Natural Area which is part of the South Cumberland State Park complex in Tennessee. Much debate surrounds the origin of the name Fiery Gizzard and some stories link the name to Davy Crockett who lived for a time in the region. I’ve come to know the area over the years because it offers a rugged beauty throughout the seasons and is less than a two-hour drive from my home. I think too that the appeal for me is that you can choose between a short two-mile hike, a 10-mile loop or a 13-mile end-to-end hike for a variety of experiences depending on the amount of time you have. Most of the time I enjoy exploring the gorge itself and just take in the streams, waterfalls and wildflowers. Spring is my favorite season to hike the Fiery Gizzard Trail, but fall can also provide some spectacular colors when the maples and other hardwoods paint the forest in yellow, orange, and red. A Loop Hike on the Fiery Gizzard Trail The best way to experience Fiery Gizzard on your first trip is to plan for the 9.7-mile loop hike. Pick mid-April for spring wildflowers or maybe late October in hope of catching the fall colors on display. If you hike very far into the gorge, be prepared for some challenging hiking. There are stretches of the trail that consist mostly of boulders and the going can be very slow. But going slow is nice because you can take in so much more of this beautiful scenery. Beginning the hike is a somewhat surreal experience. One minute you’re leaving your vehicle in a small parking area next to a school and residential area. The next minute, you’re rapidly descending into the gorge next to a rushing creek surrounded by massive hemlock trees that are hundreds of years old. The transition is instant and seems impossible. Leaving the trailhead, you’ll head left down the trail and make a sharp right turn and find yourself under a massive “rock house.” It’s a giant rock bluff called Cave Spring Rockhouse. You can already hear the echoing sounds of Little Fiery Gizzard Creek bouncing off the huge formation. Take your time in this first section of the hike to enjoy the gentle flowing cascades. Several spots are worth the view even before you get to the beautiful Blue Hole Falls which is waiting for you about a half mile from the trailhead. If you do hike Fiery Gizzard in summer you’ll quickly notice a 5 to 10 degree drop in temperature as you descend into the gorge and hike next to the cool waters under the canopy of evergreens and hardwoods. You’ll be able to see a variety of trees including hemlock, beech, birch, bigleaf magnolia, and maples. Carve out some quality time to enjoy Blue Hole Falls that you’ll reach in your first 15 minutes or so of hiking. Blue Hole gets its name from the deep blue-green color of the pool at the base of the falls and invites you to stop and enjoy this peaceful scene. Shortly after Blue Hole Falls, the trail splits. You’ll see a wooden bridge going left over the creek and a trail which is the Grundy Forest Day Loop which continues straight. Take the bridge and head left over the creek. If you happen to be hiking in mid-May, keep your eyes on the area just to the left of the trail after crossing the bridge where the Little Fiery Gizzard Creek joins Big Fiery Gizzard Creek. This particular section is home to quite a few Pink Lady’s Slippers, a wild orchid that is somewhat rare but can often been found in bloom here. Just after the confluence of the two creeks to the right of the trail, you’ll want to stop and view the Black Canyon where the creek is forced through a narrow passage in the dark rock. The trail winds around a limestone bluff and eventually comes to a place called Chimney Rocks at 1.2 miles from the trailhead. This formation consists of several tall and narrow rock towers that look like large chimneys. Here the creek takes a sharp right turn and creates a bit of mystery about what might be just around the corner. As the trail heads down from Chimney Rocks, start looking for the spur trail to Sycamore Falls with blue blazes. It’s a short walk to this 12-foot high falls but definitely worth it. It’s also an excellent swimming hole and wonderful place to take a break. There’s a great spot to photograph the falls if you cross the creek and position yourself to the left of the falls and frame the big sweeping limestone curve with the falling waters blurred by a long exposure. This view is easily one of my favorite scenes to photograph on the entire trail. Stay as long as you can, but pull yourself away as even more adventure is waiting for you in the rugged forest ahead. At mile 1.5 from the trailhead you will come to the intersection with Dog Hole Trail as you see a massive limestone bluff to the left with the creek on your right. My preference is to stay straight and continue hiking through the gorge. The Dog Hole Trail will take you up the ridge and on top of the plateau where you will head toward Raven Point. But, you would likely return through the gorge which is a much tougher although more interesting section to hike. Past the intersection with Dog Hole Trail, the going can get really rocky in the gorge. And at mile 2.0 you’ll come to a large pyramid shaped boulder that signals your entrance into an area called the Fruit Bowl. Here the boulders are about the size of a truck and a set of stone steps will lead you down the trail. I’m interested in early spring wildflowers and this is usually the point on the trail where you start to see them. Early favorites in March would be Bloodroot and Hepatica. During the middle of April you will find all sorts of Trillium and many other wildflowers. Around mile 2.5, the trail meanders close to the creek again so look for a gentle cascade with flat, rocky sections which make for a perfect lunch or snack location. Unless there has been heavy rain, you’ll be able to enjoy a spot on the dry rock bed and sit next to a cascade in the middle of the creek. Take your time here and enjoy the scenery. This particular location doesn’t have an official name but for me it’s simply the “Lunch Spot.” Don’t let the boring name fool you, though, the view up the creek from here is incredibly beautiful. If you have just enough time for a short hike in, this is a perfect place to target before turning around. But, my advice is to keep going and hike the loop. You’ll continue along the boulder field disguised as a trail as it goes up and down the bluffs and moves toward and away from the creek. In some stretches it’s pretty difficult to stay on course. There are white blazes on the trees but since you’re walking on boulders for much of the way there really is no trail to follow. And since you’re looking down with every step, it’s easy to miss a white blaze. But, that’s all part of the adventure! Think carefully about your footwear too before you head out on the trail. A well constructed trail shoe with some firmness in the sole is about right. Stiff soled backpacking boots don’t provide enough flexibility to grip the rocks and trail shoes that are too light won’t protect your feet very well. Eventually at mile 3.7 the rocky trail will turn left and head up the bluff toward Raven Point. At mile 4.4 you will come to an intersection with the .4 mile spur trail to the point. Make the short walk out there and take in the expansive views of the valleys below. Take your time here also before heading back to the trailhead. Back to the Trailhead When you retrace your steps back from Raven Point you will have another decision to make. Should you return to the trailhead back the way you came through the gorge or take the easy walk along the rim and return via the Dog Hole Trail? Much depends on how tired your legs might be. I love all the time I can get in the gorge so I’m usually inclined to head back that way. But, if you want to see some views from the rim and have a little more relaxing time on your way back, take the Dog Hole Trail. From the campsite at Raven Point, the Dog Hole Trail is 2.8 miles long until it intersects with the Fiery Gizzard Trail which will take you back to the trailhead. In planning your hike along the Fiery Gizzard Trail, think about mid-April to mid-May when the wildflowers are on full display and the greens of the forest become electric. The creeks are usually full and the waterfalls can be spectacular with the spring showers. Fall is hard to beat also. Some years are better than others and the colors can definitely start early or late. I like to target late October as fall color is prime time on the plateau. Also come prepared for a variety of temperatures in any season and definitely plan your footwear with care. The rocky and rugged terrain can be a challenge. But, mainly come prepared to enjoy a truly wild and beautiful region that’s one of the best hikes on the Cumberland Plateau. Need to Know Information Total Distance of the Fiery Gizzard Trail: 9.7 miles total which includes hiking in through the gorge and returning via the Dog Hole trail. Total time to hike: 5 hours minimum. Best Time to Go Spring for wildflowers and fall for autumn colors. Getting There From Interstate 24 you’ll take the Monteagle exit (134) and head east on 41A. You’ll drive a short distance and turn left when you see a brown state park sign indicating the left turn to the Fiery Gizzard. Continue on US 41A toward Tracy City and note the South Cumberland Visitor Center. Stop in and grab a trail map and ask about trail conditions. From there you’ll continue traveling on 41A toward Tracy City and will turn right onto Third Street in 2.3 miles past the Visitor Center. Follow the signs to the trailhead parking lot from there. If you arrive before sunrise, the gate to the parking lot will be closed but there is a small parking area just outside the gate that you can use. Maps & Books Fiery Gizzard Trail Map. For getting to and from the trailhead and exploring other destinations in the state the Tennessee Delorme Atlas & Gazetteer can be helpful. The book Fiery Gizzard: Voices From the Wilderness offers some background reading and information on the area. Hiking Tennessee as well as Hiking Waterfalls Tennessee are two guidebooks that cover additional hikes in the state. Editor's Note: This article by contributor Dusty Doddridge originally appeared in Issue 23 of TrailGroove Magazine. You can read the original article here for additional photos and content.

This high energy quick prep meal loaded with protein makes spicy Thai noodles with peanut sauce a good choice for dinner at the end of a long day of hiking. There’s very little advance prep for this recipe that uses a simple sauce of just three ingredients, but still has the feel of a home cooked meal. Spicy Thai noodles can be made at a fraction of the cost of similar commercially freeze dried meals and is a much tastier option. This meal can either be made backpacker style, or for shorter overnights fresh ingredients can be added to take the meal to the next level. Ingredients (Makes Two Servings) 4 oz thin rice noodles (half of an 8 oz package) ¼ cup peanut butter 4 soy sauce packets 2 Sriracha packets ¼ cup dried chives ¼ - ½ tsp dried pepper flakes ¼ cup chopped peanuts At Home In a resealable plastic freezer bag combine noodles, chives, and pepper flakes. Pack the rest of the ingredients separately. Tip: breaking up the noodles at home by hand will make the meal easier to eat later on the trail. In Camp Add soy sauce packets and the Sriracha packets, as well as the peanut butter to bag. Add 1.5 cups hot water, stir, and let sit for 5-10 minutes / until noodles are fully cooked. Stir again and top with chopped peanuts to add some crunch. To cook in a pot add the contents of the bag to your cookpot and add all ingredients except the peanuts. Bring this plus 1.5 cups of water to a boil, turn off heat, and allow 5-10 minutes for the noodles to cook, lastly topping with peanuts. Overnight Option For a fresher taste and consistency and if on a quick overnight, substitute ¼ cup soy sauce for the packets, use 1 TBSP Sriracha, and combine with peanut butter all at home in a leak proof container. Separately pack 2 green onions or scallions, along with 2 mini red peppers (in place of the chives and pepper flakes), again packing the peanuts separately. Once in camp, cook the noodles as described above with 1.5 cups of water (either in a pot or using a freezer bag method). Allow the noodles to sit 5-10 minutes until fully cooked. While noodles are seeping, chop green onions or scallions and mini red peppers. Stir sauce and veggies into the noodles and serve topped with chopped peanuts. Thin rice noodles can be found in the Asian section of most well stocked grocery stores and are a favorite of backpackers because they require only a quick boil on the trail, conserving precious fuel. For a ready-to-eat lunch, cover noodles with warm water in the morning and let soak until lunchtime. I like to heat extra water for my coffee and use it to rehydrate the noodles while I’m hiking. The fresh red peppers and green onions are optional but add a nice crunch and a healthy feel to this meal. This is a vegan recipe that can be made gluten free by using gluten free soy sauce. For a less spicy version just reduce the Sriracha and / or pepper flakes. Editor's Note: This recipe originally appeared in Issue 40 of TrailGroove Magazine. You can read the original article here.

Conquering each state’s high point could take a lifetime and, unfortunately, I didn’t start peak bagging soon enough to expect to claim all fifty. But I’ve acquired a small handful – that of my home state of Oklahoma (Black Mesa, 4,973 feet of elevation) and neighboring states Arkansas (Mount Magazine, 2,753 feet) and New Mexico (Wheeler Peak, 13,167 feet). Being right next door, Texas was a logical next step. Texas being Texas, however, it’s a very long drive from central Oklahoma to Guadalupe Peak (8,751 feet), in the far southwest corner of the Lone Star State. Six hundred miles in fact. I needed some additional incentive to make the trip. That came along when I was pondering training locations for a Grand Canyon backpacking trip. It turns out that Texas’ high point provides 3,000 feet of ascent over 4.2 miles, an incline that adequately mimics the elevation I would be doing in the Big Ditch, in reverse. Guadalupe Peak rises from the southern end of the Guadalupe Mountains, surrounded by the Chihuahuan Desert. Access is regulated by Guadalupe Mountains National Park, which protects the 86,000-acre hiker’s playground just south of the New Mexico state line. My trip was planned for late February, a popular time for recreation in South Texas, with mild temperatures and plenty of sunshine. The small campground near the Pine Springs trailhead for Guadalupe Peak had very limited availability by the time I inquired on behalf of my group of hiking friends, so we decided to find lodging in Carlsbad, New Mexico, 45 minutes away. Some members of my team were also training for the Grand Canyon, and others were there to summit Guadalupe just for fun. “Fun” is definitely a subjective term. The more prepared you are for such an undertaking, the more likely it is to be an enjoyable experience. The opposite is also true. I certainly saw examples of both. The National Park Service (NPS) states the 8.4-mile round trip hike to Guadalupe’s summit takes from six to eight hours. It’s a number hard to fathom if you’re a flatlander accustomed to a steady 2 mph hiking pace and haven’t experienced a similarly steep ascent. In this case, six to eight hours is a reasonable estimate. Hiking Guadalupe Peak We arrived at the Guadalupe Peak Trailhead, 48 miles southwest of our hotel on the southern edge of Carlsbad, at 9 a.m. on a sunny, 50-degree day in late February. The parking lot was full, so we backtracked and parked at the visitor center, about half a mile away. Note to self: arrive earlier the next day. We planned to tackle two other trails the following day, but conquering Guadalupe was our first priority. Just four weeks out from my Grand Canyon trip, I was eager to get on the trail and test my mettle with my loaded backpack. Guadalupe is definitely a more challenging trail than anything in Oklahoma, although my home state’s Ouachita Mountains have some steep inclines…they’re just shorter. The Guadalupe Peak trail’s elevation profile looks like a fairly constant grade, but the first mile is rumored to be the steepest and it did indeed feel that way. Once beyond that distance, the remainder of the ascent felt fairly moderate. The lower part of the trail lacks shade which, with cool temperatures, was not a problem. I could, however, imagine, how grueling it would be in the summer heat and what relief one would feel when the trail turns a sharp corner after about a mile and a half and enters a pine forest on the north slope of the mountain. But why would you hike this trail in the summer? (Being a cool weather hiker I often ask myself this question.) Three miles from the trailhead, the terrain flattens out a bit to an area with high grass and a spur to a backpacker campground. A temporary community of hikers had formed along the trail, leapfrogging each other as one group would stop for a rest and be passed by another, only to pass that group just up the trail. Carrying my big backpack, I was often asked if I were camping up there. “No,” I would say, “I’m training for a backpacking trip.” Where to? “The Grand Canyon.” This often evolved into a friendly conversation, which helped to pass the time. Beyond the campground spur, as we approached the summit, the trail became narrower and more exposed. We crossed a wooden foot bridge built on the edge of a cliff over a deep fissure. Soon, I was looking up at the summit, thinking, “We still have that far to go?” As we approached the top, the trail became more and more rocky and the backside of the El Capitan formation came into view. The south-facing limestone cliff is one thousand feet high, and a striking sight when approaching the park on Highway 180. Reaching the summit involved a bit of scrambling, and crossing one or two areas which felt quite exposed but were not difficult to negotiate. We joined a small crowd at the top, taking time for lunch and a rest, and I donned my down jacket as, not surprisingly, it was cooler up there. It wasn’t terribly windy, although winds at the summit are reported to reach 80 mph at times. And, while I expected a summit marker, I was surprised to see a metal obelisk, placed there in 1958 by American Airlines to honor the centennial of the Butterfield Overland Mail stagecoaches, which passed through the Guadalupe Mountains in the late 1850s on their way from St. Louis to San Francisco. After enjoying the panoramic view of the salt flats to the west, the Chihuahuan Desert to the south and east, and the forested top of El Capitan, it was a quick and easy hike down. Pinery Station Near the Pine Springs Visitor Center is the ruin of Pinery Station, one of about 200 relay stations along the 2,800-mile Butterfield Overland Mail Route. All that remains are stone walls now propped up by timbers. Named for nearby pine forests, Pinery Station was the highest station on the Butterfield Route, at 5,534 feet of elevation, and one of the most isolated. There’s a 3/4-mile trail from the visitor center to the ruins. It can also be accessed from a parking lot along Highway 180, just outside the park entrance. Waterman L. Ormsby, the only through passenger on the first westbound Butterfield stage, wrote of this location, “In the bright moonlight, we could see the Guadalupe Mountains, sixty miles distant on the other side of the river, standing out in bold relief against the clear sky, like the walls of some ancient fortress covered with towers and embattlements.” At Pinery Station he wrote, “it seems as if nature had saved all her ruggedness to pile it up in this form of the Guadalupe Peak.” Devil’s Hall Trail Our second day of hiking began with the trail to Devil’s Hall, which leaves from the same trailhead as the path up Guadalupe Peak. Having learned our lesson, we arrived earlier and were able to capture parking spots at the trailhead. We were again blessed with good weather, although the day started off a bit overcast. The trail is 3.8 miles round trip and starts out unremarkably on a gradually increasing slope, flat compared to the previous day but still about 650 feet of elevation change. The Devil’s Hall trail is rated as strenuous because after the first mile it enters a wash filled with huge boulders and loose rock, requiring cautious footing and careful attention. Unless, that is, you are a small child, several of whom we saw blithely clambering through this section without a thought, provoking great anxiety in their parents. At the end of the trail, we approached a “hallway” of high stone walls, but to reach it first had to climb up a steep, stair-like rock formation called “The Hiker’s Staircase” and edge around a water-filled tinaja. The effort was unquestionably worthwhile. Devil’s Hall is a spectacular 200-foot long narrows with walls 100 feet high and only fifteen feet apart. Very slotcanyon-esque. As we headed back, we were startled to see a small child tumble, really almost slide, down the “staircase,” out of the reach of anyone who could stop him. He emerged unhurt, thank God. Not surprisingly, he was one of the children we saw provoking parental anxiety earlier in the hike. This hike took about three hours and was really the highlight of the trip for me, a slot canyon fan. We ate lunch at the picnic tables outside the visitor center, then prepared for our afternoon hike into McKittrick Canyon. McKittrick Canyon The McKittrick Canyon Visitor Center and trailhead is about 4 1/2 miles northeast of the Pine Springs Visitor Center on Highway 180 and another 4 1/2 miles back northwest on McKittrick Road. As we left the highway, we noticed a sign saying the gate at the exit would close at 4:30 p.m. We would have to be very conscious of our time on this 6.8-mile hike to the Grotto and Hunter Cabin to ensure we didn’t get locked in. Fortunately, this is a flat and easy trail, much of it graveled and on an old roadbed. Although it involves about 800 feet of elevation change, the grade is so gradual as to be barely noticeable. The trail crosses dry washes a couple of times and one wash which had clear water flowing over stark white rock, reflecting the mountains aglow in the lowering sun on our late afternoon return. A prime attraction along the trail is the Pratt Cabin, built by Wallace Pratt. A petroleum geologist, Pratt bought land in McKittrick Canyon in the 1920s and later donated it to the NPS. His land and that of others eventually purchased by the park service were combined to form Guadalupe Mountains National Park in 1972. The stone cabin was built in 1931-1932 of limestone blocks quarried nearby. It is currently used as an interpretive site and is not open to the public but, looking through the windows to the interior, it’s tempting to think of it as an interesting place to overnight. For us, it was a very brief stop but pleasant nonetheless. And here one begins to really appreciate the beauty of the canyon. Even in winter, the Texas madrone trees with their distinctive red bark and berries, and the faded leaves of maples, added color to the landscape. I kept thinking, “In the fall, this must be spectacular.” Indeed, it’s rumored to be quite a sight when the foliage colors reach their peak. Beyond the cabin, the trail narrows and follows a stream, dry when we were there. Our turnaround point was marked by a small cave and rock tables in a shaded alcove near a spring. This is the Grotto. A short distance farther is Hunter Cabin, a structure once used as a hunting retreat and part of a 1920s ranching operation. The trail continues steeply up to a backcountry campsite and eventually connects with other trails, but this was the end of the line for us. Because of its length the NPS ranks the trail to the Grotto and Hunter Cabin as “moderate” but it was for us otherwise easy. We completed it in three hours’ time and escaped before 4:30. The Guadalupe Mountains turned out to be much more than just another place to check off a state high point. Two days of hiking barely scratched the surface of all this remote and beautiful region has to offer. Need to Know Information Guadalupe Mountains National Park offers a substantial network of trails and backcountry camping. It is also adjacent to the Lincoln National Forest and near Carlsbad Caverns National Park. Ample lodging and dining are available in Carlsbad, New Mexico. For authentic Mexican food, I recommend El Jimador, 509 S. Canal Street in Carlsbad. Best Time to Go Mild winter days offer comfortable hiking and you can expect temperate weather in spring and fall. Colorful foliage also makes autumn a good time to go. The heat makes summer less desirable for hiking. Getting There Guadalupe Mountains National Park is located in far west Texas, 110 miles east of El Paso, Texas and 56 miles southwest of Carlsbad, New Mexico or 62 miles north of Van Horn, Texas on Highway 54. The closest large commercial airline service is El Paso, Texas. Books and Maps Available guidebooks include Best Easy Day Hikes Carlsbad Caverns and Guadalupe Mountains National Parks by Stewart M. Green, and Hiking Carlsbad Caverns and Guadalupe Mountain National Parks by Bill Schneider. For a map see National Geographic Trails Illustrated Map 203, Guadalupe Mountains National Park. Editor's Note: This article originally appeared in Issue 53 of TrailGroove Magazine. You can read the original article here for additional photos and content.

This is one of my favorite recipes. I love everything about this soup from the easy five minute home prep to the uniquely satisfying earthy aroma of mushrooms simmering in a rich broth at the end of a perfect day in the woods. Ingredients are easy to find in any supermarket. Dried mushrooms are sold in one ounce packages, typically in the produce section or readily available online. Beef broth powder (or beef soup mix), found in the bulk food section, combines with whole milk powder (Nido milk powder) and butter to create a rich broth. Orzo pasta is slightly larger than rice grains and is a backpacker’s best kept secret, giving this soup a hearty feel and rehydrating in a fraction of the time of more traditional pasta shapes. Home prep is simple; taking the time to chop the dried mushrooms and jerky at home guarantees this soup will be ready in just minutes in camp. Everything fits in one sandwich size bag and weighs only a few ounces. The quick one minute boil in camp conserves fuel for the rest of your trip. The hardest part is waiting the full 15 minutes for the beef and mushrooms to rehydrate without sneaking a taste. Ingredients (Makes Two Hearty Servings) 1 ounce dried mushrooms 2 ounces (2 servings) jerky ¼ cup orzo pasta ¼ cup Nido whole milk powder 2 TBSP flour 1 TBSP powdered beef soup base 1 TBSP dried onion flakes 1 TBSP butter 1 tsp ancho chili powder (optional) Home Kitchen Roughly chop dried mushrooms and jerky into ¼ inch pieces to speed up rehydrating in camp. Wrap the butter in plastic wrap to separate it from the dry ingredients. The ancho chili powder is optional but adds some punch to this soup. Put all ingredients in a zip top sandwich size bag. Camp Kitchen Pour soup mix into a cooking pot and add water to 3-4 four inches over the top (about 4 cups total). Bring to a rolling boil and boil for one minute. Take soup off the heat, cover and let rest for 15 min. Use a heavy rock to keep the lid on tight. Expert tip! To keep the soup from getting cold on a chilly day, create a cozy by wrapping the pot with your coat during the 15 min rest, just make sure not to spill on or melt your jacket. Pair this satisfying soup with crusty bread to mop up every last bite. Good choices are firmer textured breads that will hold their shape such as a baguette or Kaiser buns. This is my go-to soup on the menu for nearly every backpacking trip. One of my fondest memories is sipping this soup along the Loowit Trail in Washington State one chilly evening cloaked in mist while listening to a bugling elk herd in the distance. Satisfying and delicious, creamy beef and mushroom soup is the backpackers’ soup du jour and the ultimate in backcountry comfort food. Editor's Note: This recipe originally appeared in Issue 37 of TrailGroove Magazine. You can read the original article here.

With age comes wisdom, or so goes the old adage. But, as any observer of the world can plainly see, that’s not always true. With age certainly comes knowledge, but whether that knowledge is converted to the making of wise decisions is, so to speak, a crap shoot. Hiking in the Grand Canyon offers an excellent example. First of all, it’s challenging business. For us to successfully descend to the bottom and return to the rim in good health, we would have to gain adequate knowledge but we'd also have to apply it as well. It doesn’t help a thing if you know you should carry three liters of water but decide instead to pop a lone one-liter in your backpack at the last minute. After all, a lot of it’s downhill, right? Sometimes knowledge actually creates the illusion of wisdom, resulting in misguided complacency. In other words, a little experience can make you blasé, and that’s never a good thing. I completed my first rim-to-river hike in the Grand Canyon in the fall of 2021. It was a tough hike, backpacking the Hermit Trail and day hiking to the Colorado River. But it was a complete success, with no accidents, illness or near misses. The campsite at Hermit Creek was idyllic and the hike to the Colorado through Hermit Creek Canyon both lovely and easy. Notwithstanding the steepness of the trail, which was easier going up than down, I couldn’t have asked for a better experience. I fell in love with the Grand Canyon on that hike and the knowledge I gained of that magical place propelled me to schedule another hike with friends the following spring. Wanting to see a different area, one of the itineraries I submitted for my spring backcountry permit was the Grandview Loop. Starting from Grandview Point, on the eastern side of the South Rim, it’s a two or three day backpacking trip with one or two nights at Cottonwood Creek and/or Hance Creek. Going to the Colorado River was a high priority for some of my hiking buddies, and I found in a trekking company’s itinerary a mention of the “Old Grandview Trail” to the river. It looked like a reasonable way to complete the rim-to-river goal and our only option on this route so, once I received approval for my requested itinerary, we decided to hike from Grandview Point to Cottonwood Creek on day one, day hike to the Colorado on the Old Grandview Trail on day two, hike from Cottonwood Creek to Hance Creek on day three, and hike out on day four. A Grandview Hike Begins There were five of us, three totally new to the Grand Canyon – Melissa, Mackenzie and Caleb – and one – my son Mark – who had hiked the Hermit Trail with me the previous fall. At the trailhead, Mackenzie realized she had a leaky hydration bladder. Not a good start. It turned out the opening was not sealing properly, and the bladder could hold only about a liter of water before spilling out. Knowledge = Faulty hydration bladder, get on the trail anyway. Wisdom = Faulty hydration bladder, this is not just her problem. Take time to get her properly equipped. But we got on the trail anyway, mid-day on March 26, 2022. The weather was perfect for short-sleeved hiking although we all wore traction devices on our shoes because there was still snow and ice on sections of the trail. The few patches of snow disappeared as we descended, and soon we shed our YakTrax. From Grandview Point the trail descends very steeply at first; some of the path is built on log “cribs” that were originally attached to the cliff face by chains or pins to provide a foundation for the trail. Steep and seemingly endless switchbacks of cobblestone soon appear. These large slabs of stone were set on their edges many years ago to create a stable walking surface, first intended to facilitate mule traffic from the mines below. At the end of the first mile of hiking and 1,200 feet of descent, Coconino Saddle provides a good spot for a rest in the shade before the slope becomes more gradual and the traverse to Horseshoe Mesa begins. Heavy rains the summer before had washed out some of this section, so on the traverse we clambered over numerous piles of rock and dirt. Some of it was a bit rugged though none of it terribly difficult, when dry. We didn’t stay long at Horseshoe Mesa, 2,500 feet below the rim, just stopping at the three-mile mark for a breather and a quick look at the mining remnants around the old stone cabin. Our goal was to reach Cottonwood Creek to make camp that afternoon, another one and one-half miles. The trail down the west side of Horseshoe Mesa was very poor, much of it washed out, leaving just loose rock and dirt. It was very easy to lose footing and slide, placing a great deal of strain on the knees and requiring heavy reliance on trekking poles to prevent a spill. Several of us ended up on the ground anyway. After another 1,000 feet of descent to the bed of Cottonwood Creek, we walked to the point where we could see water flowing in the creek and some other campsites. We made camp, filtered water, and soaked our feet in the creek…downstream from the spot where we were filtering. Except for some high winds, the night was uneventful, thanks to having solidly staked out our tents. The next morning, after cleaning out the sand deposited in our tents by the wind, our goal was to continue along the bed of Cottonwood Creek to intersect the Tonto Trail, traveling west to the point at which a “big cairn” would be found, marking the entrance to the Old Grandview Trail, which would take us about 1,200 feet down to the river. I had done all the research I could to determine the nature of this “trail”. I had read that it did not require serious scrambling, but was steep. Also that it was rough but not scary, and did not have exposure if the correct route was taken. Well, yes. It was all of that. Let’s not be careless, after all! Deceptively gentle at the top, toward the bottom it was little more than a rock slide. But we all made it to the river. There’s nothing you can reasonably call a beach at this spot on the Colorado, but there are a couple of very small sandy areas on the shore and some rocks where you can take a rest. We ate lunch and waded in the river. Surprisingly, the river was colder than the waters of Cottonwood Creek. All in all, it was a pleasant interlude. Mackenzie had to filter water at the river because of her leaky hydration bladder. That was okay but it would have been so much better if she hadn’t needed to. It was just a few weeks later when Norovirus was reported in the canyon, with the river its likely source. The climb out was rough, but we were elated to have made it to the river and back to the Tonto. At camp, we gathered at the creek again to filter and soak, and began to talk about a possible change of plans. With rain in the forecast, I was concerned about the challenge which wet rock and slippery mud could present for our ascent. The washouts on the traverse above Horseshoe Mesa were my primary concern but there were plenty of sketchy places that could be a problem. Would the group want to hike all the way out the next day rather than camping that night at Hance Creek? It would mean about nine miles rather than five. There was unanimous agreement to hike out the next day and get ahead of the weather. On tired legs the next morning we began what would be a 4,000-foot ascent over a nine-mile distance. Our route would take us around Horseshoe Mesa to Hance Creek, up the east side of the mesa, and back to Grandview Point. My idea, perhaps not well thought-out, was to go ahead and complete the loop we had first intended and give people the option to change their minds and stop at Hance Creek. From Cottonwood Creek we first traversed north and east on the Tonto Trail for a pleasant walk around Horseshoe Mesa, enjoying the long views. We soon came upon a marker for the mesa’s northernmost trail, which ascends the east side of the western arm of the "horseshoe" and is reportedly the most “civilized” of the mesa’s three trails. Not having planned to use that trail, I hadn’t considered its possible value for a good re-route (knowledge lacking, in this case). But looking back, it would have made our hike shorter and our day much easier had I captured that knowledge and transformed into wisdom. Arriving at Hance Creek, everyone was ready to keep going and complete the hike that day. Climbing up the east side of Horseshoe Mesa was challenging, on a trail both difficult and exposed, but beautiful and, frankly, exciting. We stopped to explore a mine tunnel and take advantage of its shade. Back up on Horseshoe Mesa it seemed as if we should be nearly finished, but the toughest part still lay ahead for our tired crew. It was a long, slow slog up to Grandview Point and Mackenzie ran out of water. Thankfully, her husband Caleb was able to spare some. And of course the heat diminished as we ascended, lessening the difficulty somewhat. Another Grand Canyon Hike Comes to an End Finally we made it out. As I approached the finish line, fatigued, I saw tourists standing on the rim taking selfies and thought, “but...you haven’t done anything!” Don’t judge me, you might think that too at such a moment, and after such an exhausting, trying, and tiring experience. Now, we had to go find a campsite at Mather Campground for the night. It was cold at the rim and we quickly set up our tents, then spent the evening keeping warm in the restaurant at Yavapai Lodge. None of us was really prepared for cold weather camping but we managed. During the night, it began to snow and we awoke to a beautiful layer of white on our tents, the towering pines in the campground, and the upper layers of the canyon. We were thankful then, both to be already out of the canyon and to be seeing the Grand Canyon in the snow. It was a good end to the trip. After all, we’d just spent two nights camping in the Grand Canyon and hiked all the way to the Colorado River, and now we deserved to feel satisfied with our accomplishment. But I could have been a better leader. I wasn’t a paid guide, but I was the "organizer". Looking back, we were lucky no one twisted an ankle on the Old Grandview Trail or completely ran out of water while separated from the group. I won’t depend on luck again. In the future I’ll not take anyone new to the Grand Canyon on trails I haven’t already experienced. And, when leading a trip, I’ll also focus more on the corridor trails. My next Grand Canyon hike is a rim-to-rim dayhike, with an entirely different set of challenges. Hopefully I’ll fully arm myself with knowledge and translate all of that into wisdom, depending neither on luck nor illusions. Need to Know Information The Grand Canyon, located in northern Arizona, is considered one of the seven natural wonders of the world. Grand Canyon National Park occupies 1.2 million acres and nearly 2,000 square miles and was established as a national monument in 1908 by President Theodore Roosevelt, then designated a national park in 1919.The Colorado River runs 277 miles through the great gorge, which averages 10 miles in width and one mile in depth. The park averages 6 million visitors a year and was the second most visited national park in 2019. Camping in the inner canyon is controlled by a backcountry permit system. Best Time to Go For inner canyon hiking, summer months are better avoided because of very high temperatures. Spring and fall are typically good times to go, although between October 15 and May 15 the North Rim is closed, so the canyon must be accessed via the South Rim during that time. Getting There From Flagstaff, Arizona, take Interstate 40 west to Exit 165, AZ-64 N, in Williams. Take AZ-64 north about 55 miles to Grand Canyon Village. The Grandview Trail leaves the rim at Grandview Point, located about 12 miles east of Grand Canyon Village via the Desert View Drive. Use the upper parking lot for overnight parking. Books and Maps Hiking Grand Canyon National Park by Ron Adkison. National Geographic Trails Illustrated map, Grand Canyon North and South Rims. Editor's Note: This article originally appeared in Issue 54 of TrailGroove Magazine. You can read the original article here for additional photos and content.

The Ventana is a designated wilderness just inland from the resort area of Big Sur on the central coast of California. The Ventana Wilderness covers a total area of 375 square miles. For comparison, it is about the size of New York City or one of the smaller Hawaiian Islands. The wild, rugged terrain is in stark contrast with the surroundings, which include nearby major highways and several medium sized cities. And the Ventana becomes wilder every year. I’m sure the Native Americans who lived here until sometime in the mid-nineteenth century never thought they were living in a wilderness. Food was abundant and several sandstone caves provided convenient housing. Life was good. The holes in which they ground acorn meal and their wall paintings can still be seen. In the past, there was an extensive network of maintained trails connecting scores of campsites. As funding for the National Forest Service declined, that agency abandoned trail maintenance. Trail work is now done by a volunteer trail crew that is sponsored by the nonprofit Ventana Wilderness Alliance. These selfless souls are not able to maintain all the trails, so many of the original trails and campsites have disappeared into the chaparral. Other events have conspired to make these mountains wilder and lonelier. Recent fires have closed large areas, and landslides have wiped out sections of trail and blocked roads that lead to trailheads. And the wilderness just gets wilder. A Recent Hike in the Ventana Wilderness On my most recent penetration into the Ventana Wilderness, I drove down Tassajara Road to the eastern end of the Pine Ridge Trail. This is one of the best remaining trails that are still accessible. The access road is one of the worst. The trailhead is reached by way of seven of miles steep, winding dirt road that clings to the mountainside and is lacerated with deep eroded ruts. I made it in a two-wheel drive car, but not without some anxiety and careful maneuvering. The trail began with an easy ascent from the trailhead at 4,300 feet to the high point at 4,900 feet. The winter’s snow was almost melted. This section of trail traverses a north facing slope and is often covered in ice and snow into the early spring. Sweeping views out toward the Carmel and Salinas Valleys were very picturesque – and this is the least scenic section of the Pine Ridge Trail. Just past the summit, I rounded the end of the ridge and started working my way down the south slope. I was soon out of the trees and looking out across a vast expanse of wilderness. The view was down through the varied shades of green in the Church Creek Valley and then out across peak after peak of the Santa Lucia Range. The blue of the mountains became paler and paler with distance. The most distant peak I could name with certainty was 5,200-foot Cone Peak at a straight line distance of nearly 20 miles. I could also see 5,800-foot. Junipero Serra Peak, the high point of the Ventana. The trail drops and climbs again before the long descent to Church Creek Divide at 3,600 feet. This stretch of trail is gorgeous. I have hit the peak of the spring wildflower bloom. California poppies, lupines, owl’s clover, and paintbrush carpet the two stretches of open meadow in orange, blue, pink, and red. I reach a point where I can see the fantastically shaped rock outcroppings that march along the sides of Church Creek Valley to the left and Pine Valley to the right. The divide resembles a peaceful village park. Large oak and madrone trees are scattered among the grass and flowers. This spot divides the watersheds of two rivers. To the right is the beginning of the Carmel River that meets the ocean near the city of Carmel; the Salinas River begins on the left and flows past the city of Salinas on its way to the sea. Trail signs point the continuing Pine Ridge Trail straight ahead, the Church Creek Trail to the left, and the Carmel River Trail to the right. I follow the latter for two miles down to Pine Valley at about 3,000 feet. As the trail levels off, the valley floor spreads out and is bordered by the infant Carmel River on the left and sculptured sandstone cliffs on the right. Ponderosa pines tower over the grassy meadow. Nestled in the trees is the adorable one-room cabin built by Jack English. He started building it in the late 70s, and spent his last years living here until his death in 2016 at the age of 96. This is one of the few enclaves of private land in the Ventana. Somehow the cabin does not detract from its natural surroundings. The Carmel River Trail follows the river for another 11 miles to the trailhead at Los Padres Dam. The middle part of the trail is reported to be in poor condition. There is a very unique feature on this trail near Hiding Camp, called Hiding Canyon. A half-mile wade upstream from the camp brings you to a sharp left turn in the river and a waterfall in a tributary entering from the right. Looking left you see a bigger waterfall at the end of a narrow, rock-walled canyon. The smooth, polished walls are vertical, multi-colored, and sculptured. I set up camp by the river in Pine Valley and headed downstream to get a look at Pine Falls. The route covers a difficult three-quarters of a mile. My choice was between walking in the stream or climbing up and down an uncomforting use trail on the side of the ravine. I alternate. At the falls, I realize that the best waterfall pictures are taken from perches with exposure which I avoid. My photos aren’t the best. Let me explain the “Alone” part of the title. The trail I hiked today is in probably the best condition of any in the Ventana. The weather was perfect, the wildflower bloom was at its peak, and it was the end of a weekend. I saw a total of four couples that day. The next three days I saw no one. The next morning I packed up and hiked up the steep, brushy connector trail to rejoin with the Pine Ridge Trail. When I hit the trail, I turned right and to the southwest. Two miles of fairly good trail brought me to Pine Ridge Camp. On the way I took in panoramic views of the Coast Ridge and the fog-shrouded Pacific Ocean beyond. Silhouettes of large trees lined the ridge top. There is an all year spring at Pine Ridge Camp, which is puzzling because it is located just below the local high point. I refilled my water bottles and headed back toward Church Creek Divide. If I had continued on the trail toward the coast, in a few hours I would have arrived at storied Sykes Camp. In the recent past, Sykes was the only place in the Ventana where you could never, ever be alone. Hot springs at this camp attracted hordes of people up until a recent landslide wiped out the trail. People had built dams to create hot pools. In the more distant past, a hiker could have a very pleasant soak in the company of only a few strangers. As more and more people learned about Sykes, it turned into a crowded scene, resulting in pollution and piles of abandoned trash. Now that the trail has reopened, damming up the springs is forbidden. The Ventana however, has other hot springs that are so remote few people have found them. I spent the next two nights in a cave that only a handful of people know about. Those who know how to get there tend to be tight-lipped about directions, and the chances of stumbling on it by accident are slim (although that is how I found it). The walls are sandstone, and the floor is flat sand. Native Americans lived in this cave at one time. It is sad that they will never return. They must have been very happy here, there’s even a hole in the ceiling that allows smoke from a fire to exit but does not allow rain to get in. Staying here feels like house sitting for ghosts. Perhaps it is respect for the aboriginal past that encourages the few visitors to the cave to take such good care of it. After returning to Church Creek Divide, I spent some time hiking up and down Church Creek Valley. The valley was mostly covered in lush green grass, oaks with bright green spring leaves, and still more wildflowers. On my last day, I hiked back to the Pine Ridge Trail and through the wildflowers to my car. About the fauna: A few lions roam the Ventana. There are also bears and wild pigs here, but they are usually even more reclusive. With some luck you might see a California Condor soaring overhead. Other accessible trailheads not mentioned above are at the end of Tassajara Road, at the end of Arroyo Seco Road, and along Highway 1 south of Big Sur Station. Two roads once used to access many more trailheads are now closed: Nacimiento-Fergusson Road and Palo Colorado Road. The end of Palo Colorado Road is the jumping off place for trails to several excellent destinations, including what some consider to be the most prized spot in the Ventana – The Window! This is a large, rectangular notch in a high, narrow ridge. The floor of the notch is flat, with two small tent sites. One can watch the sunset from one side of The Window and catch sunrise from the other. It is a magical place. The route to The Window goes up the Little Sur River and then up a creek canyon with no trail. After that, the quest is all uphill through trackless chaparral and steep gravel slopes. I have tried to get there four times and made it only once. In The Window, I was very much alone. And – by the way – Ventana is Spanish for Window. Need to Know Information The Monterey Ranger District can give you up-to-date information on road conditions and closures by phone: (831) 385-5434. Dogs are permitted in the wilderness. Fire permits are required and can be obtained online. Best Time to Go Spring: wildflowers, good temperatures, high river crossings. Summer: high temperatures and biting flies. Fall: good temperatures and lower river crossings. Winter: most likely time to encounter rain and snow. Year-round you can expect poison oak and ticks. Getting There From Hwy. G16 in Carmel Valley: NW end of Carmel River Trail –Turn onto Cachagua Rd. 5 mi. E of Carmel Valley Village. Tassajara Rd. trailheads – This road is 12 mi. E of the Village. Arroyo Seco trailheads – Arroyo Seco Rd. is 30 mi. E of the Village. W end of the Pine Ridge Trail is on Hwy. 1 at Big Sur Station 28 mi. S of Carmel. Maps I like the National Geographic Trails Illustrated 814 map. The Wilderness Press Big Sur and Ventana Wilderness map is another option. The Hiking & Backpacking Big Sur guidebook offers information on the Ventana Wilderness. Editor's Note: This article originally appeared in Issue 51 of TrailGroove Magazine. You can read the original article here for additional photos and content.

For cold weather backpacking, nothing hits the spot quite like a soup. The broth heats up a person from the inside and is welcoming. And if the dish is on the spicy side? Even a little more heat to warm those winter or even early spring nights. Here is a meal that is quick to make, fills the belly and has a bit of heat to keep a person warm during cool weather backpacking trips. This recipe takes ramen noodles to the next level, and especially hits the spot on cold weather backpacking trips. The dish uses the old standby of both poor college students and thrifty backpackers: Ramen noodles. But by adding some vegetables and discarding the flavor packet for a spice mixture made at home, the dish really is quite flavorful and is something to look forward to on backcountry adventures. Ingredients 1 package ramen noodles 1 pouch chicken (7 oz) 2 tablespoons dehydrated coconut milk powder. This item is found at many health food stores or online. Nido powder also makes an acceptable substitute if not quite as flavorful as the coconut milk. 3 tablespoons of dehydrated vegetables Dehydrate your own -OR- Harmony House sells a variety of dehydrated veggies. I like the vegetable soup mix myself with carrots, onions, tomatoes, peas, celery, green bell peppers, green beans, and parsley. It is a wonderful mix useful for many different dishes. Curry powder with dashes of salt, pepper, and red pepper flakes to taste preference. Want a milder taste? Use 1 tablespoon of the curry powder Use 1 ½ tablespoons for a moderately spicy taste Like some heat? Use 2 tablespoons and season liberally with more red pepper flakes! OPTIONAL: 2-3 stalks of fresh green onions. Green onions pack well and add a delightful flavor for backcountry cuisine. At Home Pre-measure the vegetables, milk powder, and curry mix. Place each ingredient in a separate sealable plastic bag. The chicken and ramen noodles are conveniently pre-packaged. If taking green onions, place in a sealable plastic bag as well. In Camp Bring two cups of water to a boil. Add ramen noodles. Discard flavor packet. When noodles are starting to become tender, add dehydrated vegetables. Stir. When the vegetables look to be mainly hydrated, add in curry powder and stir. Repeat step with milk powder. If desired, add chopped green onions. Simmer on low heat and stir. Cover pot Wait for five to seven minutes. Enjoy! TIP: Make the dish with less water for more of a stew. Make the dish with more water to make it even soupier to have a large amount of broth to drink. Adjust the spices accordingly. Editor's Note: This recipe by contributor Paul Magnanti originally appeared in Issue 21 of TrailGroove Magazine. You can read the original article here.

Ramen noodles. The fifty-cent a pack wonder found in the grocery store aisle in every college town, seemingly in every office vending machine for those corporate workers who work late into the late hours while in a beige box, and found in gargantuan packages the local megamart. Ramen noodles are cheap, filling, and quick to cook. And ramen noodles are many backpackers’ “got to” meal for something that fills the stomach, if not overly tasty, when out far into the backcountry. But here’s the thing: Throw out the MSG supreme flavor pack found with the typical grocery store packet of ramen, and you have a base for some tasty backcountry cuisine. With a little curry powder, some salt, pepper, dehydrated veggies and chicken, and a shot of olive oil and you have a dish that hits the spot after a downclimb to the bottom of a canyon or skiing into the backcountry. Add more water with a larger pot, and you’ll be hydrated as well. Ingredients 1 package ramen noodles 1.5 tsp salt 1.5 tsp pepper 1 tbsp curry powder ⅓ cup freeze-dried chicken ¼ cup dehydrated soup vegetable mix Optional: For richness, flavor, and calories, pack a couple of olive oil packets. Note: The freeze-dried chicken and vegetables may be bought commercially through such places as Amazon at the links above. For some ingredients, you can explore dehydrating your own backpacking food at home. At Home Add herbs, chicken, and vegetables in a resealable storage bag. Mix. Add packet of ramen. Place packets of olive oil in if using as well. At Camp Add all ingredients, except for olive oil, to pot with two cups of water. Use three cups for a more soup-like dish. Let sit for ten minutes for ingredients to hydrate a bit and to conserve fuel. Bring mixture to boil and stir. Shut off stove and let sit for ten minutes. Add olive oil at this time and mix. This dish cooks in minutes and cleans up in seconds. Ramen noodles do not have to be just for dirt bag hikers, college students, and over-worked office workers anymore and when used properly, add yet another tasty dish to the backcountry traveler’s kitchen repertoire. Editor's Note: This article by contributor Paul Magnanti originally appeared in Issue 33 of TrailGroove Magazine. You can read the original article here.

I once saw a postcard in an Eastern California gas station showcasing a photo of an impressive blue slot canyon. The earth in the photo looked barren, bleak, and chalky. The rock looked smooth as if carved by water long ago. Clearly no water remained in this place so dry and desolate, and the landscape looked distinctly like it belonged to the unique ranges within Death Valley National Park. The mysterious blue rock was known as Marble Canyon, and I decided the weekend after I had bought a new camera that I’d try to capture the same photograph I had haunting my memory. With some exploring, Death Valley can offer a unique blend of contrasting environments and hues to go along with its namesake heat. Into Death Valley It was March in Death Valley and an incredible heat wave was hanging over the area. Driving the dusty sand road out of Stovepipe Wells, the breeze was blowing 105 degrees across the expansive desert and through the open windows of the truck. This place is more appropriate to hike in winter, but spring and fall can also be managed. In summer here, it is downright extreme. I found the weather comfortable – like being heated in a convection oven, but I did fret a little over the safety of the truck. I didn't want to break down out here. It’s a long, rough drive deep into the seldom explored Cottonwood Mountains to get to Marble Canyon. I crossed the desert to where it meets the rocky edge of the mountain range, then boldly the road navigates a canyon crack and finds a sweeping valley in the interior of the range. The road was in surprisingly good condition compared to many four wheel drive roads in the area, most likely it could be navigated by a two wheel drive car. Four wheel drive is advised on this road, so check the current road conditions at the Stovepipe Wells ranger station before entering. With heart pumping excitement, I found the trailhead and stepped out into the dry heat. The canyon trail, edged by steep walls, takes you immediately into the pleasantly warm shade. I carried about ten liters of water with me for the overnight excursion. I had extra in the end, but better to be safe, who knows how much water I'd find in the desert. I expected none. The Hike Into Marble Canyon The canyon winds deep into the catacombs of this bizarre landscape, and the rocky earth almost completely devoid of plant life showcases the wonders of geology. Every sundrenched peak and rock precipice you gaze up to around each corner is wildly striped with tantalizing patterns of sediment. I made it to the narrowest part of the canyon by midday, but found the slots had totally bad light hitting them for my photography. I decided to continue up the canyon for many miles further. Now I was really in the outland, you never see a soul out here. Such fun hiking through a canyon, turning one mysterious corner after the next and never knowing what you will find. Some areas the canyon widens and you walk through desiccated meadows which in March were blooming with fascinating small and delicate flowers. In some areas the canyon is narrow. Some parts of the canyon are drab while other parts are quite colorful. Walking through patches of sun was alarmingly hot, and I’d make a beeline for the next shaded spot. Climbing ledges, I slowly ascended in elevation and found a spring trickling through a white crust of deposited minerals. The yellow princess plume flower bloomed along it, an indicator of selenium rich soil, and there was no other plant life. The skeleton of a bighorn sheep rested there. Passing up on the water source due to its potentially high mineral content, I saw two rattlesnakes on the way up, hearing them at a safe distance before seeing them. Finally I climbed up a meager dribbling waterfall and through an area where green vegetation had appeared. Green vegetation gave me more confidence on the quality of this water source, though I still would need to filter it. I was then confronted by a third rattler directly in the center of the path where the canyon narrowed. He wasn’t budging, so I decided he was a good landmark to stop and turn back. I rested under a small tree for a while, dozing off with my park map covering my face from the incessant flies landing on me. At this part of the canyon the hills had closed in around me, and now they were covered with scrub bushes and sage. The canyon bottom which I trekked through had slowly transformed into that of the high desert climate, having become choked with boulders and green plant life. It also had become much cooler, which surprised me. At this higher elevation canyon, I had actually found water unexpectedly in such a dry place. It seemed that if there was any water to be found here, it would be in a canyon. The sound is familiar, a specific sort of buzzing to break the perfect silence but not that of the flies. A hummingbird roused me from my nap, looking into my drowsy eyes as I woke up. A Night in the Canyon I decided to spend the night back at the blue slot canyon area, in the most dramatic part of the hike. Evening arrived and the light finally came in perfectly for my photo shoot. As it passed into night, the intimate canyon was very much like an indoor room. It was room temperature, with the air completely still. The ground and walls were hard and lifeless. It was peaceful and beautifully quiet until it had been dark for a while, then the desert came to life. Coyotes yipped with their psychotically echoing cries bouncing through the canyon as though they were just around the corner from me. Bats flew right above my head. Without warning a terrified, lost, and squawking pigeon came fluttering through! Despite the racket, I slept well. In the morning I continued to relax as I slowly hiked out, doing some writing and some thinking. I hadn’t seen a single other person on the trip and had spent the weekend mostly in silence and reverent isolation. To be so alone seems daunting; to those unused to it, it seems scary. In fact, loneliness can be a primary fear. I find I am never lonely when I’m living close to Mother Nature. Everything you see out there is wondrously interesting and will keep you always entertained. I believe we should all to go out and deepen our connection to the natural world, because when you know nature, you’ll never be alone. Need to Know Information The American desert is truly a place of freedom, still if you plan to backpack, the park requests you pick up a free backpacking permit at the ranger station. Death Valley charges admission to the national park, it is an honor system payment of $15 that must be made at the ranger’s station in Stovepipe Wells, Furnace Creek, or at the park’s eastern entrance. Getting There If coming from northern California, drive to Lone Pine and take highway 190 for 80 miles to Stovepipe Wells. If coming from Southern California, drive to Ridgecrest and take highway 178/ Trona-Wildrose Road for 66 miles, through the town of Trona, to the junction of highway 190. Turn right at the junction and continue 30 miles to Stovepipe Wells. If coming from Nevada or Arizona in the east, drive to Pahrump, NV. Pick up highway 190 via Bell Vista Avenue, and drive 85 miles to Stovepipe Wells. At Stovepipe Wells, take the Airport Road behind the campground, turn right at the fork by the airport onto Cottonwood Canyon Road. After 10.7 miles turn right onto Marble Canyon road, a sign will designate it saying ‘Marble.’ To continue straight on the main road will bring you to the Cottonwood Canyon Trailhead, a loop hike could potentially be navigated between Cottonwood Canyon and Marble Canyon. Best Time to Go Winter is ideal, if not slightly chilly with short days. Spring and fall are can be workable depending on the forecast. Maps and Books The National Geographic Death Valley Park map makes a fantastic souvenir and has hiking guides written in the margins, a great map to inspire ideas. The Explorers Guide to Death Valley National Park by T. Scott Bryan and Betty Tucker-Bryan is a knowledgeable guidebook full of insider information. For the western side of the park, Hiking Western Death Valley National Park is another available resource. Editor's Note: This article originally appeared in Issue 28 of TrailGroove Magazine. You can read the original article here for additional photos and content.

A cheerful pumpkin sun peeks over the Coconino Plateau at dawn. It’s Thanksgiving weekend, and the air is frosty as dad and I join a gaggle of backpackers, clad in billowy down jackets evincing a cornucopia of startling colors, lining up outside Grand Canyon Village’s backcountry information center. It turns out the park’s Phantom Ranch and Indian Garden campgrounds are as jam-packed as pilgrims on the Mayflower which renders my hoped-for rim to rim route unfeasible. A bearded ranger suggests we trek the relatively remote East Tonto trail where site-specific camping permits are not required during the off-season months. “Perfect,” I say, elated to spend the night anywhere in the canyon. Dad agrees. A few years ago, I initiated a habit of taking my dad on ambitious backpacking trips. He’s as close to a spring chicken as one can be at 56 and frequently outpaces my otherwise speedy trailtop tempo. We have thus far completed ten days on the John Muir Trail and 70 miles along Wyoming’s rugged Wind River Mountains. Daydreaming over the phone in September 2013, I propose we tackle 30 off-season miles across the Grand Canyon’s spine-tingling landscape. “Let me talk to mom,” he says. He sounds excited. A Grand Canyon Backpacking Trip Begins We join a flow of tourists debarking the South Rim shuttle bus near South Kaibab’s trailhead at 7,200 feet, swiftly clogged by day hikers stretching in all manner of poses, speaking quietly in groups, taking pictures with their smartphones. Although it’s a dry year, a thin mat of crunchy snow carpets the ground. To break away from the throng, we dash harum-scarum down the footpath’s initial cobblestone switchbacks; stretching my legs feels fabulous after yesterday’s 10-hour road trip from SoCal. The scene before us is breathtaking. A bulging sheet of stratus clouds fills the canyon’s vast rift 500 feet below the rocky ledge like a white lawn of Korean velvet grass. Apparently, this phenomenon only occurs once every couple of years – something about weather inversion, calm winds, and rapid ground level heat loss. Forested hills rise above the canyon’s northern rim 17 miles away and float on the diamond sea of mist. Even though I am bursting with enthusiasm, we are silent as we hone a rhythm of placing one foot in front of the next. Periodic wood posts bisect the wide trail’s blood colored earth, struggling to impede erosion and creating a never-ending staircase of shrill steps. Within ten minutes, we penetrate the fog and find ourselves 15 degrees cooler underneath an overcast gray sky. The path winds across the canyon’s fortress-like walls before boomeranging towards an auburn sandstone cupola, lonely and massive, rising prominently on a peninsula of Esplanade sediment like one of the Titanic’s gold smokestack funnels I force myself to cease staring so I can keep at least one wary eye on the trailside’s sheer cliff. Grand Canyon National Park sprawls over 1,904 square miles of the world’s premier canyon system, 277 miles long, 18 miles wide in places, and nearly one mile deep. One friend lulls that “it’s just a big hole in the ground.” It certainly is, but there’s nothing humdrum about it. Endless rockwall rills, gnashing thousands of feet deep, flay every which way. Sedimentary isthmuses connect red mesas to ziggurat plateaus, hints of tufted shrubs clinging to perpendicular ramparts which swell assertively from yawning arroyos. Bands of brown and crimson strata turn coral and Crayola orange under the racing clouds. Unlike the popular Bright Angel Trail’s narrow line of sight, South Kaibab’s six-mile descent offers sweeping panoramas along a snaking backbone passage. In about an hour, we leave most of the crowds behind us. The park’s idiosyncrasies are much the same year-round: bone dry away from the Colorado River, deceptively easy downhill routes obliging exhausting uphill return trips, shadeless trails completely exposed to the elements. In winter, the crowds are smaller, the days shorter, temperatures cooler. Snow and ice may coat trails’ higher elevations. This weekend, despite the spectacular cloud formations, the weather is perfect: balmy high 50’s during the afternoon and a hair above freezing at night. Reaching the fork with East Tonto trail at 4,260 feet, we’ve come across no water, and I discover Dad has committed an uncharacteristic rookie mistake of only bringing two small water bottles, both now empty. Compelling him to take some of mine, we cannot pinpoint a reliable creek or cienega eastward on the map. Despite the extra exertion, we decide to barrel over “The Tipoff” and fill up at the Colorado River’s chocolate tide 1,800 feet beneath us. I love hiking with my dad. After my muddled teenage years, our relationship became distant if not a little estranged. As a young adult, I found myself defaulting into juvenile attitudes and habits whose initial impetuses, perhaps never very legitimate, had disappeared from memory long ago. One day, sipping a steely decaf at Starbucks, I had an epiphany. Why not stop treating my dad like the baggage-laden figure of my childhood? Why not just approach him as someone I know well and who has uncannily similar interests? Letting go of the past freed me to enjoy both of my parents as an adult, building new friendships for a new stage of life. I must admit that like them a bunch – two rather muddled people much like myself. Annual backpacking adventures with my dad, although not the only manifestation of this new outlook, are certainly my favorite. We talk a lot, are silent a lot, and generally enjoy every minute on the trail together. Bravo Starbucks for a good cup of Joe. Retracing our steps back from the inner gorge, water bottles brimming, we encounter our first uphill climb: a zigzag goathill ascent rising nearly 2,000 feet in two miles. Such punishing grades are normal for Grand Canyon trails. Panting back at the junction, we turn onto East Tonto’s noticeably less travelled footpath which traverses the Tonto plateau, an undulating shelf of tumbleweed grassland between the canyon’s rim 3,000 feet above and the Colorado River 1,800 feet below. Flash flood drainages bisect the trail’s course which rises and descends an exhausting series of knolls and gulleys. The trail is full of loose, seesaw rocks which make every stride tedious. Undaunted, we stagger forward with gusto. The sun lurches westward and enflames the entire magnificent backdrop. A gigantic escarpment dominates the view, clenching the tableland like a giant fist from heaven, glowing in the sunset like a split geode, radiating every conceivable hue of orange: amber, bourbon, agoseris, LA smog, extra sharp cheddar cheese. Towering thousands of feet high, bare bluff precipices drop like stairway steps, gilded alluvium drooping from the crags like the folds of a gold lamé dress. Even though I am exhausted from the day’s hike, I stare in wonder. In moments, the light changes, and the colors fade. We pitch dad’s Marmot Limelight two-man within Cremation Creek’s dry sandy gulch containing the only flattish and cactus-free patch of ground we’ve come across in two and a half miles. For dinner, we treat ourselves to Mountain House three cheese chicken pasta. The night is moonless, and I lie on a low boulder gazing at the wild beauty of blinking stars framed by colossal two-dimensional land features. When the cold becomes unbearable, I scuttle into the tent. We sleep in way too late. By the time we are packed and back on the trail, the sun is high overhead behind another thin blanket of wispy clouds. We weave slowly around immense chasms and immense massifs. The path parallels high canyon walls where serrated geologic veins read like a primeval catalogue of long-forgotten cataclysms. Bright Angel shale heaves under Mauv and Redwall limestone. Paleozoic layers with names like Wescogame, Watahomigi, and Manakacha alternate salmon, brown, and gray stripes like a wedding cake fearsome in height, crumbly to touch. The route feels isolated and forgotten, and we pass only two couples and a small group of buddies. The trail is also treacherous in places. Lacing the brink of fingering side canyons, the path tilts sharply over cliffs, loose gravel threatening to unbalance us at every step. Dad stumbles at one point, falling on a knee to steady himself. Heart racing, I take a tumble of my own minutes later. Finally making our cutoff toward Grandview, several groups of day hikers congregate near Cottonwood Creek. Exhausted after 14 miles of rolling desert scrubland, I calculate that three miles and nearly three thousand feet of elevation gain separate us from our destination. We have no reserves of energy left. We’ve eaten all our snacks. With dusk fast approaching, I pull out my headlamp and prepare for a long slog. The steep trail is poorly maintained and eroded in many areas. We mindlessly plod around circuitous switchbacks and along a dusty ridgeline wooded with gnarled Utah and single seed junipers. Hazard signs near an old uranium mine warn “RADIOACTIVE – STAY ON TRAIL.” The temperature drops malevolently as we gain elevation, and blotches of snow speckle the dark ground. Mindful of my falling body heat, I go into protective mode. “How are you?” I huff at dad anxiously, repeating myself every 10 or so minutes. I take the lead and set an inchworm pace. “I’m tired,” dad finally admits with a tired voice. I’ve never heard him acknowledge such a thing before, and I realize he must feel as utterly drained as I do. The cold starts to set in. I calculate that stopping for a warm tumbler of hot chocolate will lift our sprits and stop the chill. We huddle side by side, fumble with our Jetboils, pour piping fluids into our cores. “Thanks Dan,” dad says. “This was a good idea.” The final ascent is perilous. Although we cannot see the cliffs we are hiking along we know they are there. Slush on the trail rapidly freezes to ice. The Decision “Should we spend the night on the trail?” I propose. “I think we can make it,” dad says thoughtfully. Trying to think of the wisest option, a night without food in the freezing cold sounds unappealing, but so does continuing. We finally promise each other to pivot carefully up the incline, taking no chances. Dad goes first. Keeping a hawk’s eye on our step-by-step progress, I gingerly follow up the mass of sleet. Suddenly, blazing headlights alert us to the empty Grandview parking lot one hundred yards ahead. Made it! We stumble like boogeymen out of the blackness, terrifying a wide-eyed couple in a cluttered Ford Focus. They hurriedly drive away once dad, a bit groggy, concludes an uninvited monologue summary of the day’s toils. “That’s so inspiring,” says the woman flatly. No shuttles stop at this time of night, and the main road is an indeterminate distance south. I instruct dad to pull out his sleeping bag and hunker down until I return with the truck, a feat accomplished an hour later after a kind Havasupai couple spots me a ride to the village 13 miles west. Thawing under the heater’s blow-drier gusts, we take a moment to celebrate our accomplishment. “Whew!” I exclaim. “I wasn’t that cold,” dad says. “I don’t know...you looked pretty tired,” I suggest. We both smile ear-to-ear, our next adventure already in my mind. Need to Know Information Trails are strenuous and rocky in places with many stretches along cliff edges; our hike lasted 2 days over 34 miles with 5,500 feet cumulative gain. More information can be found at the National Park Service’s website. Backcountry permits are tightly regulated, so be sure to read the park’s permit guidelines. Getting There I took I-15 out of San Diego, meeting in Barstow where I left my car at a free SANBAG “Park & Ride” lot, then went east on I-40. At Williams, take AZ-64 north which turns into AZ-180. Canyon will be straight ahead. Best Time to Go Every season has its charms, although expect sweltering weather in July and August and freezing temperatures in January and February. Maps We used Sky Terrain Trail Maps’ topographic map of Grand Canyon National Park. Other options include the Trails Illustrated Map Bundle of 261, 262, and 263. Books For guidebooks see Hiking Grand Canyon National Park, by Ron Adkinson as well as Best Easy Day Hikes: Grand Canyon National Park. Editor's Note: This article originally appeared in Issue 30 of TrailGroove Magazine. You can read the original article here for additional photos and content.