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It’s a land of seemingly infinite slickrock and canyons, anchored by the Escalante River and its tributaries. The landscape’s intense colors are dominated by red and ivory sandstone and accented by brilliant green cottonwoods and willows along the waterways. In the deep slot canyons, the reds take on shades unimagined…maroon, purple, and indigo. Easy it’s not. Exceptional, it is, and worth every ounce of effort for the experience.

Within the massive Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument of southern Utah, the canyons of the Escalante region offer endless opportunities for hiking, with plenty of tantalizing slot canyons to entice the adventurer. On a recent trip to the area I met my hiking buddy, Joan Whitacre, for a stay in the town of Escalante and three days of exploring the canyons. She had traveled from Idaho and I had come up from Oklahoma; we intended to make the most of our time in southern Utah and planned three hikes, Neon Canyon/Golden Cathedral, Lower Calf Creek Falls, and Spooky Gulch.
Escalante Hiking: Golden Cathedral & Neon Canyon
It is mid-September and the weather is warm. We get a late start our first day, arriving at the Golden Cathedral Trailhead a little before noon. Getting there is an adventure in and of itself, traveling 16.3 miles from Utah Highway 12 on the legendary Hole-in-the-Rock Road before turning off onto Egypt Bench Road. Hole-in-the-Rock is named after the actual “hole” in the rock, a crevice in the western rim of Glen Canyon which Mormon pioneers laboriously expanded, building a road 2,000 feet down the side of the cliff to the Colorado River. On a “dugway” with an average grade of 25 degrees (and in some places as steep as 45 degrees), they lowered 250 people, 83 wagons, and more than 1,000 head of livestock on their journey to establish a new colony on the San Juan River.
The actual Hole in the Rock is still there, 55 miles down this road, but we are not going there today. Once reaching Egypt Bench Road, we travel about 10 miles to the Egypt Trailhead. The dirt road is washboarded and it’s a teeth-chattering ride to the trailhead. There we scramble over the lip of a ridge for a long walk down the slickrock to the Escalante River. The day is heating up as we look back at the long, steep ascent we will face on our return.

The Hike to Neon Canyon
As we approach the river we appreciate the shade offered by the riparian vegetation, and after 2.8 miles, the trail actually enters the shallow, brown-yellow waters of the Escalante River. The stream cools our feet as we cross, boots on. At this point, the trail becomes very difficult to follow, winding in and out of the river and through jungles of willow and salt cedar growing along the muddy banks. Eventually we decide simply to use the river as our trail. Its waters are only ankle-deep and our path takes us downstream. At mile 3.7 we reach the turn-off for Neon Canyon, marked by a huge cottonwood tree. The canyon’s colors range from pink to ochre, bright greens of trees and grasses illuminated by the afternoon sun. From the turn-off it is an easy 0.9-mile walk on a well-trod, sandy path to our destination, Golden Cathedral.
What a sight with the sun’s rays entering the skylights of the massive cavern. In the floor of the alcove the pool of water is golden, its surface reflecting the sunlight. Two people are there ahead of us, sitting on the sandy floor, contemplating the amazing scene.

It’s definitely a place that invites a pause for quiet contemplation. The waters of the pool are tempting but I am reluctant to disturb them by stepping in. Ferns grace the moist, red stone walls and the filigree of lichen suggests manmade pictographs. It’s easy to see how this place got its name, as its high-ceilinged structure calls to mind soaring gothic cathedrals and their homage to the almighty.
Eventually we turn back and decide to simplify our return by using the Escalante River as our trail. We now travel upstream, but in the shallow waters it’s only a little more effort. And, being in the water helps us stay cooler. Without incident we make it back to the spot where we first entered the river and take a dunk to soak our clothes before beginning the 1,260-foot ascent in the heat of the day. It is a grueling climb, especially in its steep final stages. The trail is dim and we get off trail. The line we end up on is likely steeper than the actual trail; nevertheless, we can see the lip of the ridge and keep moving toward it. It is a great relief when we pull ourselves over the edge onto the plateau, get in the car and turn on the air conditioner after this challenging, nearly 10-mile hike.
Lower Calf Creek Falls Hike
A rest day is in order on day two, and a hike to Lower Calf Creek Falls is an easy option. Unlike the isolated Golden Cathedral Trail, this one is busy with all manner of folks. From Escalante, we drive 15 miles north on Highway 12 to the Calf Creek Recreation Area and the trailhead. Much of the six-mile round trip through Lower Calf Creek Canyon is shady and offers interesting sights such as an ancient granary on a distant cliffside, with signposts so you know what you are seeing.

Along the Lower Calf Creek Falls Trail
The falls themselves are spectacular but the crowds of people picnicking and playing in the pool at the base of the falls make it seem more like a city park than a backcountry hike. Still, it is just the right level of activity after the Golden Cathedral effort.
Hiking Spooky Gulch
Our third day of hiking is the one I am most excited about. We are heading down Hole-in-the-Rock Road yet again, to Peekaboo and Spooky Gulches, two well-known and relatively easy to reach slot canyons. This time we drive 26 miles down Hole-in-the Rock Road from Highway 12, then another 1.7 miles to the trailhead. The hike involves another descent over slick rock, but this time only for a short distance. We have gotten an earlier start today and are slightly ahead of the heat.
We decide to trek around Peekaboo to the upper end of Spooky Gulch and descend from the top of Spooky. We start at a sandy wash which narrows, leading to a rock jam. We stop, stymied about how to negotiate it. Soon we hear voices ahead, and two young women climb up through an opening in the boulder field. One is a skilled canyoneer, and she helps the other to ascend the six-foot climb. When we talk with her, she realizes we are going to struggle, and offers to help us down. We don’t hesitate to accept her offer and she climbs back down to the canyon floor, coaching each of us on the descent. An angel of mercy, we decide.

The canyon continues to narrow, its passages serpentine and eerie. In places the floor is so narrow that chimneying is required. Daypacks have to be taken off and carried in order to squeeze through, scraping chests and backs against the sandstone, which has a strange, knobby texture in spots. In the darkest, twistiest sections, the sandstone takes on hues of purple. It’s exhilarating. I am disappointed when the slot begins to widen and we reach the end.
We leave Peekaboo for another day, although the usual progression for these two slots is to hike up through Peekaboo and down through Spooky. As we drive back to Escalante, I notice cars parked at other trailheads on Hole-in-the-Rock Road, and feel a twinge of regret that we’re not staying longer for more hiking in the Escalante. But Escalante will be here, and I will be back.
Hiking Utah's Escalante: Need to Know
Information
The Canyons of the Escalante area is one of three regions of the Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument (GSENM), one million acres of protected land in southern Utah administered by the U.S. Bureau of Land Management. The erosional landforms of the region include high vertical canyon walls, slot canyons, waterpockets, domes, hoodoos, natural arches and bridges. The other two components of the GSENM include the Grand Staircase and the Kaiparowits Plateau.
Best Time to Go
Fall and spring are the best times to go; ideally, mid-March through April and mid-September through October. The heat of summer can make for difficult hiking. Rainy weather can cause flash flooding in slot canyons.
Getting There
Boulder and Escalante, Utah are the closest towns to hiking in the Escalante region. Both offer lodging and dining options, Escalante more so than Boulder. The closest major airports are Las Vegas, Nevada and Salt Lake City, Utah.
Maps and Books
WOW Guides: Utah Canyon Country, Kathy & Craig Copeland, Hiking the Escalante by Rudi Lambrechtse. The Trails Illustrated Canyons of the Escalante Map by National Geographic covers much of the area. For getting to and from trailheads, the Utah Delorme Atlas & Gazetteer can be useful.
Editor's Note: This article originally appeared in Issue 41 of TrailGroove Magazine. You can read the original article here for additional photos and content.

Reasoning that I’m not getting any younger, I decided recently that the Grand Canyon was something I needed to do before I no longer could. Such a decision, by its very nature, triggers some urgency. And “doing the Grand Canyon” meant, for me, a rim-to-rim hike.
But as I began to navigate Grand Canyon National Park’s backcountry permit system, I realized that actually hiking the hike might not be the hardest part. Obtaining the necessary permit for camping within the canyon on a multi-night backpacking traverse of the gorge seemed at first to be hopelessly challenging. The park has a lottery system for handing out permits and, thanks to much greater demand for campsites than supply, many hopeful hikers face rejection. My first attempt involved an application to camp in the park’s most popular corridor campgrounds in the middle of May and was, not surprisingly, denied. But I learned from a friend that it’s wise to include in one’s application several of the canyon’s less-trafficked areas as itinerary possibilities, and I went about identifying options other than the popular North Kaibab to Bright Angel/South Kaibab route.

Moving away from the central corridor, I studied trails located a bit more on the edges. These are more challenging and less maintained, but a few seemed mild enough for a seasoned backpacker who just happened to be trodding the innards of the Grand Canyon for the first time. Among the ones I listed on my application for a September 2021 itinerary was the Hermit Trail, a rim-to-river route in a “threshold” zone, meaning it’s not the hardest, most remote trail in the canyon but it’s fairly rugged. Admittedly, it would lack the cachet of a rim-to-rim route but, lo and behold, it was the one for which I received a permit.
What joy ensued when I got the good news in May of 2021. In anticipation of an approval, I had recruited hiking companions on whom I could fully rely: my son, Mark Fields, and his wife, Jessica, and my friends and hiking buddies Mary and Kurt McDaniel. Together we planned the details of our adventure, which would involve a day and a half driving to the Grand Canyon from Oklahoma, a night camping on the South Rim, and two nights in the canyon, at the Hermit Creek campsite, 8.2 miles from the trailhead at Hermit’s Rest. On the second day of our hike, we would make a round trip from our campsite to the Colorado River, another mile and a half each way, and would climb out of the canyon on the third day.
A Grand Canyon Hike on the Hermit Trail Begins
Every detail sorted out and our bodies conditioned for the effort through an ambitious training program, we arrived at the south rim of the Grand Canyon on September 19, 2021 for a night at the Mather Campground. This experience turned out to be surprisingly pleasant and uncrowded, thanks no doubt to the weekday, late September timing. On the eve of our big adventure, however, I wondered…would this be an ordeal I was happy to get behind me, or an experience I would want to repeat?
The next morning, we were on the trail just before sunrise. The descent was expected to take about five hours, so we hoped to reach our campsite before the heat of the day. Each of us was carrying an extra two liters of water to cache on the way down, so our average pack weights were around 33 pounds at the start. We looked forward to dropping off the extra poundage somewhere between Lookout Point and the Cathedral Stairs.

The Hermit Trail was built in 1911-1912 by the Atchison, Topeka, and Santa Fe Railway to bring tourists into the canyon. The path was named for Louis Boucher, a French-Canadian prospector who lived alone in the area. The railroad also built Hermit Camp near Hermit Creek on the Tonto Platform, allowing visitors to stay overnight in the canyon. Many of the original paving stones remain on the steep upper reaches of the trail, which comprise the most difficult section. While we anticipated it would be challenging to climb out of the canyon, we were surprised at how taxing it was to descend. Picking our way down the trail, we relied heavily on our trekking poles for support and stability. Soon a woman passed us, practically running down the rocky path. Before reaching the bottom we met her as she returned, explaining she had gone to the top of Cathedral Stairs to retrieve a backpack someone had abandoned. It was clearly not her first rodeo, and we admired her strength and agility.
From the trailhead, at an elevation of 6,640 feet, we dropped about 1,200 feet over 1.5 miles, encountering the junction with the Waldron Trail at 5,400 feet. In another quarter mile, we intersected the Dripping Spring/Boucher Trail. Two and a quarter miles down, Santa Maria Spring offered a welcome break, with its tiny oasis and rest house sheltered by an ancient grapevine. Our legs were trembling, unaccustomed to the down climbing and having descended nearly 2,000 feet. Thankfully, since the first miles of the Hermit Trail hug the eastern wall of the canyon we hiked in shade for several hours, falling into a rhythm with Mark as our hike leader.

About four miles from the start, we reached Lookout Point and cached our water amid some brush, and hoped it would remain there undisturbed for the return trip two days later. Thankful to be rid of the extra weight, we continued at a steady pace. Just before the Cathedral Stairs, a steep drop through a narrow chute within a turret-like formation, we lunched in the shade of an overhang. It was starting to get warm by this time, but the temperature felt mild by Grand Canyon standards, though none of us had a thermometer.
Once below the Cathedral Stairs, the trail looked easier and was indeed less vertical, but our depleted quadriceps felt every inch of what we named the Eternal Switchbacks of Hell. Finally, we reached the Tonto Platform and, at seven miles, the intersection with the lengthy east-west Tonto Trail. There the path leveled off, providing welcome relief. Soon we dropped into the Hermit Creek campsite, 8.2 miles and, at 2,900 feet, 3,740 feet from the top. We didn’t know it at the time, but the hardest part was over.

Grand Canyon Backpacking Campsite
Hermit Creek Campsite & Hermit Rapids
It was about 1 p.m. when we arrived in camp, having taken six and a half hours to descend. Deep in the canyon, it was getting warm. Most of the day, there was shade in Hermit Creek Canyon, but mid- to late afternoon, when the sun was directly overhead, it was hard to escape. A few steps below the campground, however, Hermit Creek offered cold, fast-flowing water, a good source for filtering, and the bonus of a small waterfall and pool for soaking. In the heat of the day, it was just the thing. We had the entire campground to ourselves at this point and whiled away the afternoon.
About 4 p.m. the sun dropped behind the canyon wall and the air began to cool. As the hours of darkness approached, boredom began to creep into our technology-attuned brains. We had all been together for several days by this time, and none of us had brought a book or a deck of cards, since our goal was to carry as little weight as possible. Yes, we had electronic devices but their batteries were in preservation mode. We did, however, have something to celebrate that evening, Jessica’s birthday. Mary had brought a birthday card and my contribution was a Blueberry Crunch Clif Bar and candle. We sang happy birthday to Jessica as daylight waned, deep in the shadows of the Grand Canyon.
Three other groups eventually showed up at the campground, one of them after dark. My sleep was fitful, ultralight backpacking not being the most comfortable sort, and the long hours of darkness with no entertainment made it something of an ordeal. At Jessica’s insistence, we made ourselves stay up until 8 p.m., hoping to avoid waking up at midnight thinking it was time to get up. The nighttime temperature was comfortable, almost too warm for my very light sleeping bag, but not quite.

We awoke the next day ready to be moving again, planning to hike down Hermit Creek to Hermit Rapids on the Colorado River. The other campers had left and again we had the campground to ourselves. As we began the mile-and-a-half hike, we were delighted with the beauty of the narrow gorge, walking sometimes at creek level and sometimes above, sometimes back and forth across the narrow stream. Then we emerged onto the sandy beach of Hermit Rapids on the mighty Colorado. Seeing it up close was momentous and required that everyone take a dip, just to say we’d done it.
A Final Evening and the Hike Out
Hiking back to the campground was equally glorious and the rest of the afternoon was whiled away in the same manner as before, this time punctuating the day with a birthday party for Mark, whose special day followed Jessica’s by only one, and a be-candled Peanut Butter Banana Clif Bar as a backpacking substitute for a birthday cake.
Again, we forced ourselves to stay up until 8 p.m. but I was awake the next morning before 4 a.m., managing to stay in bed until close to 4:30, by which time I thought the noise of my rustling around and unzipping things was justified. We were on the trail about 6 a.m., the Eternal Switchbacks of Hell feeling much less hellish going up. Soon we were past the Cathedral Stairs and would reach our cache in short order. At Lookout Point we found our water supply intact, and were glad to have it. By this time we were hiking in full sun and found the fluid useful not only for hydration but also for pouring over our bodies to cool down for the remainder of the hike. Another mile and a half or so found us back at Santa Maria Spring with the steepest part of the trail ahead. After lunch in the rest house, we continued on at a steady pace. It was slow going but not as hard as the descent. Soon the top was in sight and I heard Mark and Jessica, who were in the lead, exclaim that they’d reached it. A few yards behind them, I realized I was ready to end the climb, but not the experience.

What a thrill to be back at the trailhead with my family and friends. It was not just an accomplishment, but something I am eager to repeat. Being deep in the canyon was like being on another planet, separate from all the noise and hubbub and strife of the outer world. Its beauty was mesmerizing and its draw magnetic. As a result, I’ve become fixated on the Grand Canyon and have two trips scheduled for the future…depending, of course, on the success of my permit applications.
Hiking the Hermit Trail: 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. Find more information on obtaining a backcountry permit here. See TrailGroove's Grand Canyon Hiking and Backpacking Logistics article for more on trip planning in the Grand Canyon.
Best Time to Go
For inner canyon hiking, it's usually suggested that the summer months be 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 trailhead is located at Hermit’s Rest, at the end of Hermit’s Road, which is accessed from Grand Canyon Village. Access to Hermit’s Road is restricted from March 1 through November 30 but backpackers with a valid backcountry permit for the Hermit or Boucher Trails are allowed access during this time. Drive eight miles west along Hermit Road to Hermit’s Rest then continue on the dirt road one-quarter mile to the trailhead. From December 1st through the end of February the Hermit Road is open to all traffic.
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 52 of TrailGroove Magazine. You can read the original article here for additional photos and content.

Nights are long on the trail in late October. The sun sets early and there we are in camp, 13 hours of darkness ahead. The camp fire – if we build one – provides amusement for only so long, and after hiking together all day there is little left for the four of us to talk about. We try to stretch the evening all the way to 8 o'clock but typically give up and retire to our tents by 7:30. Once inside my MSR Hubba, I use the light of my headlamp to review what the trail guide says about the miles we did today, and read ahead for what tomorrow will bring.

A few minutes looking at photos on my camera's small screen and a couple of pages on the Kindle app of my iPhone, and that’s all the battery life I dare use on this week-long backpack. That gets me to about 8:15, when I give up and try to settle into my sleeping bag. Sleep is slow to come and when it does, it's interrupted by coyotes howling close to camp and a chain of hoot owls sending late-night messages. Then I start over, not daring to look at my watch for fear the earliness of the hour will only discourage me.
"Girls, it's 5:35!"
"Thank God," I think when I hear Mary's words, not sure whether I’ve slept at all.
That wake-up call is a huge relief. With Mary McDaniel, Janet Hamlin and Pam Frank, I am hiking the western half of the Ozark Highlands Trail (OHT), in northwest Arkansas. Eighty-five miles in seven days is our goal and we have scheduled the trip for late October to enjoy fair weather and peak fall foliage. The full length of the trail is 165 miles (an update from the Ozark Highlands Trail Association says it is 197 miles and growing) starting at Lake Fort Smith State Park and running northeast to the Buffalo National River. Our end point for this hike will be the Ozone Trailhead, mile 85.7, the approximate midpoint of the trail.

I originally proposed to my Oklahoma City-based hiking buddies, now dubbed "The Lost Girls," that we through-hike the entire OHT but work schedules prevailed. We decided to take a week to hike the western half in 2015 and save the rest for later.
A Hike on the Ozark Highlands Trail Begins
We begin on October 23 and our first stop is the Ozone Trailhead, to leave one of our vehicles at trail's end. After lunch at the Ozone Burger Barn we leave my Subaru Outback a few miles north of Ozone in the parking area off Highway 21. The four of us pile into Pam's Honda Element to return to Fort Smith, and ultimately the trailhead, by way of four water caches. The past few months have been dry in this part of Arkansas and water sources are unreliable east of White Rock Mountain. We spend the day driving dirt roads to trail crossings and stashing 16 gallons of water (one per person per cache). Then we camp at the Hampton Inn in Fort Smith. Nothing like a good night's sleep before a big adventure.

The morning of October 24 dawns cool and drizzly and we don rain gear for our 10:30 a.m. departure from Lake Fort Smith's Visitor Center. We begin the hike with a prayer, a habit we will continue each day of our trip.
In addition to camping gear and water, we each carry seven days' worth of food. We have a short day today, just over eight miles to Jack Creek, actually a short distance beyond milepost nine. Because of trail re-routing, the actual distances are about a mile less than what the mileposts display. So, somewhere along this first stretch of trail, we actually gain a "bonus mile." Kind of like Daylight Savings Time, I suppose. The mileposts are one of the notable things about the OHT. On the Ouachita Trail, which we have been section hiking over the past few years, mileposts are missing more often than they are present. On the OHT, they are virtually always there. And the blazes – metallic with reflective white paint – are easy to see and ever-present.

We pass several old home sites on the shore of Lake Fort Smith and cross a bone-dry Frog Bayou Creek on the lake's north end, arriving at Jack Creek in plenty of time to set up our tents and filter water. There's been a lot of bear spoor along the trail and we take the usual precautions, hanging the bear bag.
Hiking the Ozark Highlands Trail: Day 2
The next morning we start earlier, although we are hiking about the same distance we did on the first day. Our destination is White Rock Mountain, a spot known for its spectacular sunsets. It has a lodge, cabins and campsites, running water, and who knows what other amenities. Several weeks ago, I called for reservations in the lodge or cabins and was told they were full, but things could change. As we hike we fantasize about what might await us there. Maybe someone cancelled and a cabin is available! Perhaps there is food – something cooked in a pot on a stove, not rehydrated with water from a JetBoil! And this is only our second day on the trail.

It's a hard climb to the top of White Rock and we are disappointed to learn there are no vacancies in the lodge or cabins, but it's okay. We have our choice of camp sites and the campground has a toilet, a water faucet, and picnic tables. Luxury is in the eye of the beholder. Best of all, there is ice cream. At the cottage of the congenial caretaker, we find a freezer full of frozen goodies and a case of cold soda pop and candy bars. I buy an ice cream bar and savor every sweet bite.
Firewood is available here too, at 10 sticks for $5. But the caretaker tells me where to find some scraps and says we can have those for free. We retrieve enough for a nice fire and haul it to our camp site, then eat dinner before heading to the pavilion at the summit's edge to watch the sunset.
Our timing is perfect. Low golden rays set the mountainside on fire, making the greens, reds, and yellows pop. On the verge of disappearing, the sun outlines the distant ridges and once it sinks below the horizon, lights the ragged pink edges of the gathering clouds. It's a feast for the senses and worth the climb. But the wind is freshening atop the mountain and we head back to camp for a fire and the warmth of our sleeping bags.

The Ozark Highlands Trail offers quaint forested hiking, interspersed with ridgetop views.
Day 3 on the OHT
Day three brings longer miles and two lengthy, steep climbs made more difficult by the warmth of the day. We also encounter a great deal of deadfall, requiring us to go over, under or around huge trees killed by the red oak bore. Three miles of hiking on an abandoned railroad bed provides straight and level relief. It is part of the Combs to Cass spur of a railroad that ran from Fayetteville to St. Paul in the early 1900s.
We make it the 13.5 miles to Fanes Creek, where we pick up our first cache and camp. That night around the camp fire, a persistent frog joins us. He is determined to listen as Mary reads from the trail guide, recapping our day and describing what we can expect tomorrow. The frog hops closer and closer to Mary; it seems he likes the sound of her voice. He is unfazed when she shrieks as he hops a bit too close. Of course, we are the invaders and this is his home turf. Still, rather quickly we go to our tents and zip them up securely. None of us wants a frog joining us in our sleeping bag.

A Cloudy OHT View
Day 4: To Herrods Creek
The next day brings our biggest challenge so far. It is day four and our schedule calls for a walk of 15.9 miles to Herrods Creek. It is raining as we get on the trail at daylight. Our first climb, to the top of Whiting Mountain, is long but not too hard. Soon we approach the Highway 23 trailhead and on a narrow, loose stretch of trail Mary, in the lead, slips and falls. She ends up tail over tea kettle on the steep slope below the trail and my first thought is that we're fortunate to be so close to the highway in case we need to get her out for emergency medical care. Thank God, she is unhurt and we continue. Skipping the climb up to the Rock House, an old stone shelter near the trail, we cross Highway 23 and enter the Pleasant Hill Ranger District, marking the beginning of one of the OHT's more scenic sections. The next climb takes us to the summit of Hare Mountain, the highest point on the OHT at about 2,380 feet, and the midpoint of our hike. It's all downhill from here! Well, not quite.
After we descend Hare Mountain we pick up our water cache. This one is not at our camp site and we'll have to carry it for three miles. A gallon of water weighs 8.3 pounds and that's a lot of weight to add to a backpack. It's a downhill walk to our camp at Herrods Creek but that doesn't make it easy. Steep, rocky downhills with a heavy pack lead to sore feet. What a relief to reach our camp site after this long day of hiking. We've had a light rain all day and we're tired and wet. No camp fire tonight, we listen from our tents to Mary reading aloud from a seated position in hers. She was ready to get off her feet!

Fall scenery on the Ozark Highlands Trail
Days 5 and 6 on the OHT
Day five is shorter, just 12.5 miles to our camp site at mile 60. It's not raining when we start out, but my tent and boots have not dried out from the day before. Plastic bags over my socks are the solution for the moment, and I hope my boots dry out as I walk. But they don't. At least not today.
This part of the trail takes us from one beautiful hollow to the next, places where spectacular waterfalls would stop us in our tracks – if only there were water. And in one of those beautiful places – a ravine filled with large beech trees called the Marinoni Scenic Area, a thunderstorm strikes. We take refuge under a bluff until it calms.
When we reach our cache at the Lick Branch Trailhead we find that someone has opened one of our gallons. We hope they really needed a drink, and decide to share the other three gallons. This means less weight to carry and no one minds that. And as it turns out, three gallons is also plenty of water for the four of us. Tonight our camp is in a ravine on the side of Wolf Ridge. Our camp site is small and not very level but we get through the night. Next morning, we walk less than a tenth of a mile before we find a large, level camp site.

The next morning begins with fog, which dissipates quickly at our elevation, allowing us to see the mist hanging in the valleys below. Soon we're hiking in sunshine and cool temperatures and today, day six, we have mostly level trail. It is another day of long miles. At first, we had planned to hike 17.7 miles but it became apparent it would be near-impossible for our troupe with the short daylight hours. We decrease the day's hike by two miles and add that distance to our last day.
We come across five other hikers on the trail as we walk and we realize it is indeed a perfect day to get out for a hike. Two of the hikers are a couple of girls who have run out of water. We leave them our 4th gallon at the Arbaugh Road Trailhead and fill up our reservoirs with the remaining three. By this time, we are all carrying several empty gallon jugs attached to our backpacks by whatever means possible. It makes for bulky and comical backpacks, to be sure. Our last night of camping is at the second crossing of Lewis Prong Creek and the night is cold, our coldest so far.
The End of an Ozark Highlands Trail Journey
Day seven...today we will finish! We are on the trail a little earlier than usual, admiring the pink clouds hanging in the pale sky as we start. We have some up-and-down climbing but now our packs are lighter and our spirits buoyant. It's a 10-mile day but that seems like nothing. At one of our snack breaks, a solo hiker comes along. He approaches Pam and says, "I see you're wearing purple. Is this yours?" He holds out a purple bandana which I had lost on the trail the day before, just beyond the Arbaugh Road Trailhead. It has special meaning for me and getting it back is a happy thing! The hiker's name is Mike Wilson and he is a State Park Superintendent at Arkansas' DeGray Lake State Park, hiking the entire trail in nine days.
We reach the Ozone Trailhead at 2:30 p.m. There, to my relief, is my Subaru and, it starts. I always have that niggling worry in the back of my mind...what if the car is gone, or doesn't start? As I drive toward the highway, it feels strange to experience movement without effort. We've hiked more than 85 miles under our own power, carrying all of our food, and are thankful at the end for each other, for God's provision of guidance and shelter, for freedom from injury (although we each fell at least once but none as spectacularly as Mary), and good health.

The realization came, on this last day or two of hiking, that we couldn't have hiked the miles we did in a week's time if we'd had water crossings to deal with. So the drought was a blessing in that respect. But the beauty we had to rush through made me think – do we really want to through-hike the eastern half of the Ozark Highlands Trail in a hurry? Or can we section hike it and schedule fewer miles per day – do it when there is plenty of water so we can see the waterfalls? We've passed this test of endurance – sore feet on long mileage days; heavy backpacks; eating the same oatmeal and peanut butter and rehydrated rice and beans every day; having no shower for a week; trying to sleep cold and on a slope; being unnerved by coyotes howling nearby. We know we can keep putting one foot in front of the other for many miles. Next time, we might just take it a little slower. Maybe.
And for those long nights? I'll figure out something!
Ozark Highlands Trail Hiking & Backpacking: Need to Know
Information
The Ozark Highlands Trail stretches 165 miles from Lake Fort Smith State Park across the Ozark National Forest to the Buffalo National River, then along the Buffalo as Buffalo River/Ozark Highlands Trail, through the Lower Buffalo River Wilderness as a GPS bushwhack route, and thru the Sylamore Ranger District again as hiking trail to near Norfork, Arkansas, 254 miles in all, of which 218 miles are constructed trail and growing, according to the Ozark Highlands Trail Association.
Getting There
The western terminus of the Ozark Highlands Trail is located at Lake Fort Smith State Park, about 40 miles north of Fort Smith, Arkansas off I-49, Exit 34. Additional trail access is available at more than 65 forest road and highway crossings, plus nine public campgrounds and numerous other trailheads. Camping is allowed anywhere along the trail. No permits or fees are required to hike, build fires, or camp (except in the campgrounds). Cabins are available at White Rock Mountain (479-369-4128).
Best Time to Go
Late fall, winter and early spring are best for cooler temperatures, minimal undergrowth and insects, fall colors and spring wildflowers, and great views during “leaf-off.”
Maps
The Ozark Highlands Trail West, the OHT East, and the OHT North maps cover the trail. For trip planning and getting to and from the trailhead the Arkansas Delorme Atlas & Gazetteer can be useful.
Books
Ozark Highlands Trail Guide by Tim Ernst.
About the Author
Susan Dragoo is a writer and photographer living in Norman, Oklahoma who would rather be hiking just about any day of the year.
Editor's Note: This article originally appeared in Issue 29 of TrailGroove Magazine. You can read the original article here for additional photos and content.

While guidebooks lack the high-resolution pictures and crowd-sourced content about trails found in the digital world, they offer hikers information in a tangible, time-tested format that makes them a pleasure to use. Flipping through a guidebook and being inspired to plan trips to a new area is like unwrapping a gift that keeps on giving. Turning the pages on a years old, dog-eared guidebook where I’ve done most of the trips and made notes in the margin is a great way to take a trip down memory lane and an analog alternative to simply looking up pictures posted on social media.

Historical equivalents of modern guidebooks helped (or hurt, as some were notoriously inaccurate) pioneers travel to the American West on the Oregon Trail and other routes such as the California Trail and the Mormon Trail, although those texts were more practical than recreational. Today’s guidebooks help hikers enjoy a landscape for a few days or weeks at a time, rather than guiding them cross-continent to pursue better opportunities. Nevertheless, I think it is safe to say that many hikers have taken the trip of a lifetime after doing copious research via maps and guidebooks and been better prepared for the trek.
The Benefits of Paper Hiking Guidebooks
During the cold, dark evenings of winter, perusing through guidebooks can be a great way to revisit places you’ve hiked and start planning for new places to visit in the more accommodating seasons of the year. Sitting around drinking coffee and immersing myself in a guidebook and corresponding map have gotten me through the dreariest winter days. Guidebooks offer an inspiring mix of escapism and practical planning that I find to be more fulfilling than just sifting through the results of internet searches for information on trails. After a winter of perusing guidebooks, the hard part is prioritizing which hypothetical trips to do in the limited hiking time available before the snow flies again and covers the high country.
Well-written guidebooks can be amusing and entertaining as you travel through landscapes with the author and their insight, observations, and humor. My favorite guidebooks are those where the author strikes a perfect balance between naturalist and comedian. Guidebooks for the Red River Gorge area of Kentucky Red River Gorge Trails and Hinterlands, a Guide to Unofficial Trails by Jerrell Goodpaster strike this balance with excellence. Tim Homan’s guidebook to the Joyce Kilmer-Slickrock Wilderness and Citico Creek Wilderness areas in North Carolina and Tennessee contains an excellent, and all-too familiar for most hikers, description of unmaintained trails as being not easily followed or easily enjoyed (to paraphrase), a thought which I’ve used to describe certain trails to curious hikers. The glowing, adulatory descriptions in guidebooks can also be memorable and it’s remarkable at how many different ways guidebook authors have come up with words to describe similar landforms, such as arches or alpine lakes. Strong legs and strong vocabularies seem to be characteristics held by most persons practicing the craft of writing guidebooks.

The physical aspect of guidebooks lend them, like pretty much all books and physical mediums of art and expression, fairly well to collecting for persons who have that proclivity. While I try to live a fairly “minimal” lifestyle in terms of purchase of inanimate objects, which is a bit of a misnomer when compared to most of this planet’s inhabitants who would be shocked at the amount of gear I own that goes into my “lightweight” backpack on each trip, I do have a tendency to collect guidebooks. Thrift stores, used book stores, and library book sales can be great places to buy cheap and often out-of-print guidebooks. While it’s not a great idea to plan your vacation on 36-year-old information found in a guidebook, they do give you decent insight into general areas and landscapes and make for nice coffee table displays.
Guidebook Limitations
It would be irresponsible to write an essay in appreciation of guidebooks without noting that they do indeed have certain limitations. Most notable of these is the fact they become almost instantly outdated as soon as they are published. Forest fires, landslides, trail closures, deferred maintenance – all these issues make trails that have a five-star appeal on paper turn into a nightmare on the ground. Quick fact checking on the internet combined with a call to the nearest ranger station can help mitigate these unpleasant surprises. On the plus side, out-dated guidebooks can be one of the only ways of knowing what lies at the end of an unmaintained trail – providing impetus for hardy hikers to seek out a reward that they will likely get to enjoy in solitude.

Hiking guidebooks can offer valuable information that can be applied to upcoming hikes, and often offer a historical perspective as well.
Final Thoughts on Hiking Guidebooks
Guidebooks exist for most places with any significant concentration of use and many national parks have multiple guidebooks, even upwards of a dozen or more for the most popular. Some wilderness areas or parts of national forests lack any type of printed descriptions at all, other than what is compiled and released by the land management agencies. Some off-trail areas don’t have chapters in guidebooks, or any digital information about them, and that’s not a bad thing. Some hikers tend to gravitate toward those “black holes” of wilderness…no trails on the map, no mentions in guidebooks, no online trip reports…and relish in the feeling of exploration that venturing into such an area provides.
While I appreciate guidebooks in the fullest, I also sincerely believe that some spots should remain something of a mystery to stay truly wild, their secrets shown only to those who take the time and effort to see them firsthand. The best guidebooks in this respect may provide just enough information to get you started, but leave further exploration up to the reader. For a multitude of hiking guidebooks you can browse a wide selection covering just about any area you could imagine here at Amazon.com.
Editor's Note: This article originally appeared in Issue 33 of TrailGroove Magazine. You can read the original article here.

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.
Curried Chicken Backpacking Ramen 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. For the Curry Powder
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.