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I am a photographer. I am a hiker. I am a backpacker. I am a mountain biker. Sometimes I am all of those in the same day. But most often, I am on an awesome trail and am trying to take an award-winning photo of the area. My trips are usually built around getting to an area to photograph its beauty. I am always searching for beautiful photographic exposures of scenes that not everybody has viewed, looking for vistas that excite my eyes. Sometimes hiking or backpacking is the best way to get there, and sometimes a mountain bike the preferred way. Over the years, I have had the privilege and pleasure to visit a lot of places, particularly in the American west. This is a story of my quest to get to some of these places.

Trails that I have hiked and ridden are often multiuse trails, open to hikers, mountain bikers, hunters, cross-country skiers, equestrians, and other users. Some are designated as National Recreation Trails and others are simply great local trails. Some of the best of these multiuse trails that I have ridden and/or hiked include Gooseberry Mesa and Little Creek Mesa in Utah, Berryman Trail in Missouri, South Boundary Trail and the High Desert Trail System in New Mexico, Black Canyon Trail in Arizona, Palo Duro Canyon State Park in Texas, and Hermosa Creek Trail in Colorado. As I get older and more inclined to hike instead of ride, I will no doubt return and hike more of these.
Gooseberry Mesa and Little Creek Mesa, Utah
These trails are some of the most beautiful trails that I have ever experienced. Both mesas tower above the surrounding landscape, offering views better measured in miles than feet. Located on Bureau of Land Management lands east of Hurricane, Utah and just a few miles from Zion National Park, the vistas from the north rims of each mesa display Zion in all its glory. Looking west you can see views of the distant often snow-capped Pine Valley Mountains plus a panorama of desert canyons and plains in every direction. The trails on both mesas feature a combination of sandy tracks and solid rock, known locally as ‘slickrock’, although being solid sandstone, there is really not much ‘slick’ about them – your grip when hiking or riding is great. Navigation on a slickrock trail often involves some amount of searching for the trail. Gooseberry is in many places marked by white paint dots on the rock.
Little Creek is mostly marked by widely-spaced cairns – sometimes you will come to a large flattish area of sandstone with a single cairn in the distance – it often takes a sharp eye to spot them. Other segments of the trails on both mesas are on more traditional singletrack trail and are easy to follow. Gooseberry has over 20 miles of trails of various lengths which can be combined into hikes or rides of almost any distance, depending on your stamina. Little Creek is a bit more isolated so is not as busy, and has two interconnected loops of about 9 miles each. Getting to Gooseberry and Little Creek Mesas require driving on several miles of sometimes rough dirt roads. These are both places seldom seen by the average visitor to the Zion area, but well worth the effort of getting there. Gooseberry Trail has been designated as a National Recreation Trail.

Gooseberry and Little Creek Mesa offer stunning views and classic Utah terrain.
Uses
Bicycling, camping, dogs (on leash), and walking/hiking/running.
Best Time to Go
Best April through November. Summers can be extremely hot! There is no water on the mesas, so carry plenty. Restrooms are available near the trailhead of Gooseberry Mesa; there are no facilities at Little Creek Mesa. Primitive camping is allowed on the mesas.
Getting There and Resources
The Delorme Utah Atlas and Gazetteer has maps of the entire state that will assist with getting to and from this area as well as to other areas of interest in Utah. For additional exploration and hiking opportunities Hiking Utah offers a guidebook that covers many hikes in the state.
Berryman Trail, Missouri
This is a 24 mile loop trail in central Missouri near Potosi. This 70-year old National Recreation Trail passes through two campgrounds (Berryman Campground and Brazil Creek Campground) on an up and down route through heavy woods. Several crossings of small streams are included. The trail surface can be rough at times, with exposed rocks, eroded areas, and hoof tracks from horses. One can travel in either direction from either campground, but I have always started at Brazil Creek and gone clockwise. Beginning as I have from the Brazil Creek Campground (no facilities are available, except for a few fire rings and picnic tables), and going clockwise, the trail heads uphill through the dense forest, and thereafter a series of descents and climbs greet you until you reach the Berryman Campground (picnic shelter, vault toilet, no water) in about the ten miles.
From this point, continuing clockwise it is about fourteen miles back to the starting point at Brazil Creek Campground. The western half of Berryman Trail is also part of the 390-mile Ozark Trail. Starting at Berryman Campground and continuing to the north you are following the Ozark Trail until the trails eventually split. There is water available from several creeks (treat it!) and from an old trough about two-thirds of the way along the trail (I think this is from an artesian well, but I would treat it too). Overall, Berryman Trail is a great hiking, backpacking, and mountain biking loop. The trail can be easily divided into a two or three-day backpacking trip, or shorter out-and-back day hikes, or an epic one-day mountain bike adventure.

The Berryman Trail in Missouri
Uses
Bicycling, hiking, camping, dogs (on leash), wildlife observation, and equestrian.
Best Time to Go
All year, but summer can be hot and humid.
Getting There and Resources
Having the Missouri Delorme Atlas and Gazetteer on hand can help with getting to the trailhead and to and from other trails in the state. For additional hiking ideas in Missouri, see Hiking Missouri.
South Boundary Trail, New Mexico
This National Recreation Trail spans about 20 to 25 miles in the Sangre de Cristo Mountains of Carson National Forest between Angel Fire and Taos, New Mexico. It is heavily wooded with piñon pines, ponderosa pines, junipers, and aspens. In the fall, the aspens turn parts of the mountains bright yellow. There are also wildflower-filled meadows, wildlife, and numerous views of the surrounding mountains. As a mountain bike ride, the trail is often done as a shuttle, starting at the eastern end from one of a couple possible starting points, and ending near Taos at the west end. The trail ranges in elevation from about 7,200 feet to about 10,700 feet, so you will definitely feel like you are in the mountains! The South Boundary Trail is one of the most popular trails in Carson National Forest. The trail varies from old fire roads to long sections of singletrack, and the east to west route has more downhill than uphill. Hiking options would include starting at Garcia Park or Osha Mountain and hiking out and back. This would also be an excellent two or three-day backpacking trip. There are camping areas in the Garcia Park area along the trail, as well as dispersed camping in the national forest along the way.

In the fall, the South Boundary Trail offers hikers views of the turning aspens for those that time things right.
Uses
Bicycling, camping, equestrian, hunting, walking/hiking/running, and snowshoeing.
Best Time to Go
Year-round, depending on your use.
Getting There and Resources
The New Mexico Atlas and Gazetteer will have maps suitable for getting to the trailhead and around the state, as well as locating additional areas to explore. For more on hiking in the state, check out Hiking New Mexico.
High Desert Trail System, New Mexico
Just outside of Gallup, New Mexico is a series of looped trails that start at two different parking areas. The High Desert Trail System is designated as a National Recreation Trail. As you might expect from the name of these trails, this is ‘high desert’ country and has plenty of rock and sand supporting a desert mix of piñon pines, sagebrush, and junipers. Some of these trails are on rocky ground, but most are sandy soil singletrack. There are a few areas of interesting ‘hoodoo’ formations, and quite a few excellent views. Even though these trails were designed for mountain biking, I have seen hikers on them several times and would definitely recommend them as a good hiking location, particularly when higher elevations are less desirable because of weather or trail conditions.
Along the trails are several metal sculptures, such as a coyote, a sundial, a mountain lion, and others. There are also some of the most amazing trail markers or ‘cairns’ that I have ever seen – some are as tall as a full-grown human man! Further proof of the trail builders’ “cool factor” are Native American-inspired trail signs of a backpacker and a mountain biker. There is no camping allowed on the High Desert Trail System, but there is camping available a few miles away in the Zuni Mountains, to the south of Interstate 40.

No camping is permitted along the High Desert Trail System, but day hiking and biking opportunities abound.
Uses
Bicycling, dogs (on leash), walking/hiking/running, and wildlife observation.
Best Time to Go
Fall through Spring. Summers can be extremely hot!
Getting There and Resources
As with the South Boundary Trail, a New Mexico Atlas and Gazetteer can get you to and from the trailhead and others in the state. Hiking New Mexico offers a guidebook that details a selection of hikes in the Land of Enchantment.
Black Canyon Trail, Arizona
This is a nearly 80-mile north-south trail in the Sonoran Desert of central Arizona. It extends from Prescott National Forest near Prescott (north end) to Carefree Highway (Highway 74) near Phoenix (south end). The trail has eight trailheads that break it into manageable sections. The trail runs generally parallel to Interstate Highway 17. I have ridden on a couple of segments of this trail, which winds through areas offering some of the most stunning desert scenery that I have seen; for me it was hard to focus on the trail, as I kept looking around at the scenery. Perhaps next time I’ll hike instead of ride so that I can slow down and better take in my surroundings. The trail is nearly all singletrack and passes through rolling terrain with multiple types of cacti, including barrel, cholla, ocotillo, and a large number of the impressive saguaro. The trail crosses the Agua Fria River in places, and at those crossings the vegetation is sometimes dense mesquite. On one ride on the Black Canyon Trail, I spotted my first and (so far) only gila monster, which is a large venomous pinkish-orange and brownish-black lizard – quite a thrill, as they are rarely seen.

The Black Canyon Trail offers nearly 80 miles of desert views.
Uses
Bicycling, walking/hiking/running, dogs (on leash), equestrian (riding and pack trips), and camping.
Best Time to Go
November through April. Summers can be extremely hot!
Getting There and Resources
For a guidebook on Arizona hikes, see Hiking Arizona. For a map that can help you get to trailheads and explore various areas in the state, refer to the Arizona Delorme Atlas and Gazetteer.
Palo Duro Canyon State Park, Texas
This State Park is in the Texas panhandle just south of Amarillo. While not on the scale of the Grand Canyon, Palo Duro Canyon is still impressive, and has several excellent trails. The trail to the Lighthouse (the best known formation in the park), combined with Givens-Spicer-Lowry (GSL) Trail, Little Fox Canyon Trail, and Paseo del Rio Trail makes an excellent 10.5 mile loop. The Lighthouse Trail is a wide, well-used trail with little elevation change until you get near the end, at which point there is a steep climb up and over a ridge. Once you’re on the ridge, the Lighthouse is in view. Continuing the last few hundred feet you ascend onto a small mesa where the Lighthouse is located, and where pretty much everybody takes at least one “selfie”. Returning the way you came and then turning left onto the GSL Trail, you get away from the sometimes crowded Lighthouse Trail, and can enjoy many more miles of desert terrain. The next few miles are not too difficult, although there are some short steep climbs, and the trail is easy to follow.
Along the GSL Trail, you can enjoy several sections of especially colorful cliffs and hills and several areas with hoodoos of varying sizes. The Little Fox Canyon Trail is an out-and-back side trail off of GSL, and the Paseo del Rio Trail takes you from the end of GSL back to the parking lot for the Lighthouse Trail, completing the loop. Across the park is the Rock Garden Trail which climbs about 600 feet from the road in the bottom of the canyon to a rimtop view in a 2.4 mile (one way) hike or ride. This trail is not as colorful as the Lighthouse and GSL trails, but makes up for it in the overview of the canyon from the top. The trail is mostly an uphill hike with just a few downhill sections, but overall I did not find it to be especially strenuous. All of these trails are designed for multiple uses, whereas several other trails in the park are designated for hiking only, biking only, or equestrian only.

Palo Duro features some of the most stunning terrain in Texas.
Uses
Walking/hiking/running, bicycling, equestrian.
Best Time to Go
Fall through Spring. Summers can be extremely hot!
Getting There and Resources
The Falcon Guide, Camping Texas can assist with exploring the state by way of a tent. For driving to and from and identifying areas to hike in the state, take a look at the Texas Delorme Atlas.
Hermosa Creek, Colorado
The 25 mile Hermosa Creek Trail is located just north of Durango, Colorado. Starting at the north end gives you a net loss of about 1,500 feet by the time you get to the southern end near the village of Hermosa. Almost all of this trail is singletrack, except for a few miles at the northern end. The trail is not purely a descending hike or ride, as there is a mile-long section toward the south end that includes a 500 foot climb – the price you pay for the rewards of this beautiful trail! Most of the trail is within sight of Hermosa Creek, sometimes from far above it, and sometimes right next to it. Ponderosa pines and Douglas firs are the predominant conifers along the trail, with stands of aspens in some places.
There are also several other trails that branch off from Hermosa Creek Trail, giving you numerous options. One week several years ago, a group of mountain biking buddies and I were planning on a trip to Santa Fe and Durango to ride. Less than a week before we were to leave, I broke my wrist. I decided to go anyhow, and spent the week hiking on trails where they rode, taking lots of pictures, and functioning as their shuttle driver when needed. It was on this trip that I hiked a few miles of the northern end of Hermosa Creek Trail before heading back to the highway to meet up with them after their ride. I’ve also been on the trail when a summer thunderstorm came up – scary, and not an experience I’d recommend. Check the weather forecast before you set off.

The Hermosa Creek Trail runs for 25 miles north of Durango, Colorado.
Uses
Mountain biking, hiking, horseback riding, cross-country skiing, and snowshoeing.
Best Time to Go
All year, depending on use.
Getting There and Resources
Colorado offers a near endless array of hiking and outdoor recreation opportunities. The guidebook Hiking Colorado has information on many hikes in the state. For maps that will help you explore the Centennial State, check out the Colorado Delorme Atlas and Gazetteer. Note that in June and July of 2018 large portions of the area were affected by fire. See the Forest Service web page for current trail conditions.
Final Thoughts
Multiuse trails are a shared experience – enjoyed by hikers, mountain bikers, riders on horseback, and other users. I use these trails as my way to get out in nature and away from the hustle and bustle of civilization and to get to places to use my camera in my never-ending search for new vistas and great photographs. So, whether you are hiking, riding, or using these trails in some other way, just get out there, share the trail, and see the world in your own personal way!
The Author
Steve Ancik is a landscape architect by profession whose hobbies include mountain biking, photography, hiking, and backpacking. He lives in Edmond, Oklahoma. All photographs in this article © Steven L. Ancik.

With backpacks loaded and my friend Drew in the passenger seat, both of us eager to head to subalpine lakes with hungry trout, I turned the keys in the ignition and proceeded to break one of my cardinal rules of backpacking: don’t start in a trip in the middle of a holiday weekend. As advantageous as having an extra day off work to extend a backpacking trip is, if you’re spending that time on a crowded trail only to end up at an area where all the best campsites are taken the “victory” is at best bittersweet. I usually take precautions to avoid that outcome – picking remote destinations, getting a head start and being deep in the backcountry by the time the weekend rolls around, or going to a national park where the backcountry campsites are crowd-controlled by permits. Neither of those were options for this particular trip, we rolled the dice, rolled out of the driveway, and hoped for the best.

One of the perks of living in a small city on the edge of a 1.3 million acre wilderness area is that if you arrive at a trailhead that is a bit too crowded for your tastes, you can simply drive a bit further to another one without delaying your hike too much. Our plan was to head first to the most appealing trailhead for the type of trip we desired – a trip featuring lots of fishing and not much more hiking than necessary. If our first preference had a packed parking lot, we would just drive a half-hour to the next trailhead, potentially repeating this process a time or two until we found our spot. One of the great luxuries of the Rocky Mountain West. Making this plethora of option sweeter was the fact that, unlike our trip to Yellowstone the previous week, no permits were required. It was simply a “choose your own adventure” situation with no park entry fees to be paid, campsites to be chosen, or miles to be covered regardless of weather conditions or energy levels.
Although there are virtually endless options for backpacking within a few hour drive, I often find myself returning to the same lakes year after year, and sometimes within the same season. Sometimes this is to introduce others to the beauty of a place that I’ve grown fond of, or to be able to plan a trip for a novice backpack where I will more or less know what we will be getting into, or out of the sheer convenience of its location and the time involved in reaching the main attraction. Certain places tend to shine in certain seasons as well. While the lakes we hoped to visit were wonderful in summer, they are truly spectacular in late autumn when the needles of the larch trees turn gold before falling to the ground.

The Bitterroots feature scenic views, as well as ample hiking and fishing opportunities.
Into the Bitterroots
When we arrived at the trailhead on Sunday morning of Labor Day weekend and saw only two other cars, we celebrated our good fortune and contemplated going back to town to purchase a few lottery tickets. The trailhead, less than an hour outside of town and with almost half the driving on a gravel road, is usually one of the more popular destinations for quick trips or family backpacking excursions. The canyon it provides access to is almost too good to be true. Hosting several lakes (four with good fishing), a beautiful stream, a lofty peak with several minor summits on adjacent ridges, and enchanting larch forests in late September, the canyon can reasonably be viewed as a microcosm of much of the high country of the Bitterroot Mountains. A moderate three-mile trail leads to the first lake and the others are reached by bootpaths that are more intriguing than intimidating. Our destination was the third and highest lake in the trio (the other two lakes are separated from the primary chain of lakes) which arguably has the best fishing and the most spectacular scenery. We allocated plenty of time to get there, as the lower two lakes are fun places to wet a line and get some practice catching the small cutthroats before heading up to the larger fish at the upper lake.

In no rush, we plodded along the pleasantly graded trail, occasionally pausing to eat a few of the ripe and brilliant red thimbleberries. Just shy of the halfway point to the first lake, we met a backpacker headed out. Our odds of having the upper lake to ourselves, which were already looking pretty good, had just doubled. Energized by our good fortune, we kept up our pace and soon arrived at a quintessential subalpine lake on what can only be described as a perfect summer day in the mountains. Temperatures in the mid 70s, light breeze, and no clouds in the stunningly blue sky. The icing on the cake was seeing trout rising on the glassy water, well within casting distance, and no one else in sight.
Easing our way along the talus slope on the northern shore of the lake, we stopped often to take advantage of the plentiful room for a backcast. After getting a good warm up of our casting arms and hook removing fingers, we took a lunch break before starting up the faint path to the upper lakes. Adequately but not obnoxiously marked by cairns, the path gained elevation quickly over granite slabs after exiting the patch of forest that clung to the inlet stream. Combined breaks for catching our breath and admiring the scenery slowed our progress, but we reached the middle lake without being too far behind on our non-existent schedule. Relying on the notion that if a lake has fish, and there is daylight, then there is time to fish, we put the lines back on our Tenkara rods (an excellent rig for backpacking) and tossed some flies on the water. Finding ourselves just as successful as we were on the lower lake, we enjoyed an hour or so of relaxed angling bliss before shouldering our packs and heading to the uppermost lake.

The push to the final lake went much quicker than from the lower to the middle lake and we arrived at the unoccupied and awe-inspiring body of water just as the sun reached its highest point in the sky. Rising and sizable trout tempted us on our way to scope out campsites and, as expected, we were unable to resist. A crisp and refreshing swim washed off the sweat from the hike and refreshed us for the minor camp chores and a long afternoon and evening of fishing and soaking up the subalpine splendor. Taking time to scope out the best campsite, we set up our tents on a small rise with a commanding view of the lake and near a small granite peninsula that was a perfect spot to cast from.

With camp set up and hours of daylight ahead, we waded into the cold but tolerable waters to fish a drop-off where the water deepened quickly and a cold inlet stream pushed oxygenated water, and whatever bugs it had picked up, to the center of the lake where larger trout swam. This was Drew’s first experience with camping and fly fishing at a mountain lake – each activity being outstanding on its own, and when combined, far exceeding the sum of its parts – and few things could have gone better. No mosquitoes, ideal weather, eager trout, no crowds, and no rush to hike out the next day. Late in the evening, our hunger became more of a priority than catching fish, so we traded our rods for stoves and cooked up dinner as twilight settled over the mountains. The stars eventually became as enrapturing as the fishing had been and we stared upwards until we had no choice but to either involuntarily fall asleep under them or head to our tents. We reluctantly but prudently chose the second option.

Sunset in the Bitterroot Mountains
The Hike Out
Awakening to a mild morning, we once again marveled at our good fortune. An almost empty parking lot, uncrowded trails and campsites, blue skies overhead – a perfect holiday weekend trip. Making the most of it, we took our time packing up and enjoyed a leisurely breakfast and more fishing before beginning our descent. Just as we were leaving the lake, three hikers descended from the larch-filled basin above the lake. Our paths crossed again while we fished the lowest lake. Their dayhike was a long but rewarding route that I was familiar with – it passes four lakes, summits a peak, and features a three-quarter mile ridge walk on stable talus. On our way out, we passed nearly a dozen hikers headed in to enjoy a nice forest walk on Labor Day and arrived at a trailhead with four times as many cars as when we had left.

In the decade I’ve been backpacking, I’ve had some memorable Labor Day trips: a half-foot of snow falling overnight in the Beaverhead Mountains in Montana, starlit soaks in lonesome hot springs in Idaho, a smoky traverse of North Cascades National Park, and a cozy campsite in the Beaver Creek Wilderness of Kentucky. The subtle perfection of this trip makes it a worthy addition to that list and a type of outing that I’ll be trying to repeat in early September for years to come.
Need to Know
Information
Trailhead access in the Bitterroot Mountains and the Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness is often best suited for higher clearance vehicles and for those who have a sense of adventure, but more accessible trailheads can be found. The area offers an array of outdoor exploration opportunities – from backpacking to fishing to hot springs; see this Issue 41 article for more on the area.
Best Time to Go
The Bitterroot Mountains are typical for the Rockies in that prime backpacking season can be found from approximately mid-June to September, snow pack and early fall snow permitting. At other times of the year, winter conditions can be anticipated.
Getting There
The Bitterroot Mountains and Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness can be explored via Highway 93 (east) and Highway 12 (north) and from the cities of Darby, Hamilton, Missoula, and Stevensville.
Maps and Books
Cairn Cartographics publishes their Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness North Half and South Half maps. For a guidebook, see Hiking the Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness by Scott Steinberg.

The expression “timing is everything”, occasionally derided as a common-sense platitude, is compelling when applied to backpacking. Hiking along a knife-edge ridge at sunset, watching sunrise from a campsite above timberline, encountering wildlife unexpectedly, getting the tent pitched at the last possible minute before a storm – meticulously planned or completely serendipitous, such moments are part of the thrill of backpacking. The physical act of backpacking, simply walking with a burden of gear and food attached to one’s body, is objectively not an “extreme” endeavor, but many of the scenes witnessed by us are nothing short of phenomenal.

Seasons, by definition particular times of year, are one of the most common qualifiers used to describe backpacking trips. Fall in New England, summer in the Rockies, springtime in the Southwest. These combinations of time and place are all that it takes to conjure up images of quintessential scenery to most hikers. Backpacking at the height of each season can feel like a journey through the absolute essence of a natural cycle. Rebirth, vibrancy, fading away, and dormancy.

After slowly becoming familiar with the terrain and timing of the Northern Rockies, I’ve began to embrace the magic and ephemera of landforms during the in-between seasons. Without a doubt, the early summer ice-out of high country lakes is one of the most surreal and rewarding of the fleeting transition and dramatic changes from one distinct season to another. Recently unfrozen water lapping against the shore as well as sheets of ice covering the lake is a mesmerizing sight to behold.
Varying with elevation, latitude, severity of winter, and the unique aspects and exposures of individual lakes, ice-out in the Bitterroot Mountains of Montana begins earnestly in the second half of May and continues through June. Visiting at least one high mountain lake when its ice is just beginning to melt is on my annual and continually growing backpacking “to do” list. Watching ice recede further from the shore while wearing short-sleeves and whiling away an afternoon drinking tea and reading is a sublime pleasure.

While it might seem to be about as entertaining as watching paint dry, I’ve found that the setting is an excellent one in which to more easily ponder the concept of geological deep time and experience an exaggerate microcosm of glacial pacing. Hearing the gushing of snowmelt swollen inlet streams, looking at craggy ridgelines ringed with snow and still pockmarked with ice formations, admiring the perfect level surface of a partially ice-covered lake; all with temperature swings of 50 degrees likely within a 24-hour period. When extrapolated from the local to the global, the present to the past and to the future, postcard scenes become as profound as encyclopedia entries.
Into the Bitterroot Mountains of Montana
The first of three lakes I visited on a recent overnight trip to enjoy prime ice-out conditions was an unnamed tarn that I reached after an hour of motivated hiking. Completely melted and with patchy snow around its shores, its waters reflected the blue sky above and the talus slope on its southern shore with mirrorlike precision. Pressing on towards the highest lake and the one I intended to camp at, I swatted mosquitoes, admired wildflowers, and tried to keep my feet dry when crossing the numerous melt-water streams.

Reaching Kidney Lake, I was treated to a stunning lakeside panorama of a lake that I’d been to three times before but which seemed to be a totally different place. The remaining ice and snow both muted and amplified features of the lake. The background noise of a waterfall on the inlet stream provided a soundtrack that would slowly fade away in the coming weeks as the snow that fed it melted away. I had hoped for successful ice-out fishing, but neither the trout below the lake’s surface or the two I spotted in a pool in the outlet stream were interested in the flies I tossed onto the water.
Although several feet of snow persisted around the shore of the lake, I was able to find a spot with dry ground for my tent and an adjacent snow-free area to cook. The “dining room” of this trip featured a breathtaking view of the crags and a peak above the lake, with a small channel of open water at my feet before it turned into a sheet of ice stretching across the lake to the base of the slopes that stretched upward to the aforementioned attractions. A delicious meal of pasta, tuna, spinach and mushrooms warmed me up as the sun set and a chilly night that would stall any continued melting descended upon the lake.

During consumption of coffee the next morning, I was treated to watching the rays of the rising sun wash across the white and ice-blue canvas of the lake. Not wishing to leave anything left unseen, I made a detour to the far side of the lake to enjoy a closer view of the waterfall before making the short trek to Camas Lake. The third lake of my trip, Camas Lake had already completed the “defrost” cycle that Kidney Lake was in the midst of.
Only 500 feet lower in the cirque and barely a half-mile away, the contrast was astounding. Almost totally ice free, aside from a few small floes, Camas Lake provided a true taste of summer in the Northern Rockies. A few fish snatched bugs from the surface of the water, but avoided the various flies I tossed their way. However, moving around the lake the action was much better and several gorgeous cutthroats were hooked, landed and released.

Early spring blooms in the Bitterroot Mountains
Back to the Trailhead
As the fishing waned later in the afternoon and a thunderstorm brewed to the west, it seemed like a good time to begin the pleasant downhill jaunt to the trailhead. Two crossings of rushing streams served as reminders during the warm but mostly shaded hike that summer, with its more moderated stream flows, ice-free lakes, and snow-free mountain passes, was still a few weeks away. I couldn’t help but smile knowing that while I’d have a few months to enjoy the summer hiking conditions favored with good reason by backpackers, I’d also perfectly hit the narrow window of opportunity for experiencing enchanting and crowdless pre-season scenery.
Information
The best time to visit the Bitterroot Mountains (winter hiking and backpacking conditions aside) can be found roughly from mid-June to September. A high clearance AWD / 4WD vehicle can be useful for accessing trailheads. For National Forest areas, and for getting to and from other hiking and backpacking destinations in the state the Montana Delorme Atlas and Gazetteer can be very useful. For the Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness Area, see the Cairn Cartographics North Half and South Half maps, and for a guidebook on wilderness hikes see Hiking the Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness.

Tarptent offers a wide array of 1-4 person shelters that all offer a nice blend of weight and functionality, and once you’ve decided upon the best model to suit your needs one additional factor will need to be considered if you’re going with one of their double wall models (now most of their lineup) – as these models are offered with your choice of interior tent type. Mesh, solid, or partial solid interiors may be available depending on the specific model and the conditions that particular tent is designed for. After spending some time with each type of Tarptent inner tent configuration, here’s my quick take on the pros and cons, and best use scenarios that I've found for each option.

While the outer tent stays the same, Tarptent offers mesh, solid, and partial solid interior options.
Tarptent's Mesh Interior
With a mesh inner the complete interior is no-see-um mesh other than the silnylon bathtub floor. The floor is the same no matter your interior of choice, and I always further protect it with a lightweight groundsheet made from window insulation film. As may be obvious, mesh is the best option for warm weather trips and locales and especially anytime you feel you might be spending time in the tent during the day, as any of these tents are greenhouses in the sun. This is also the lightest option – significantly lighter compared to a partial solid inner on Tarptent’s largest offering, the Hogback, in my experience. While mesh offers the most ventilation while keeping the bugs at bay, it’s also the least warm, and as I’ve experienced, doesn’t help much in a sandstorm. However, if most of your trips are in the summer or you live in the south this is a great option.

Mesh inner with fly removed halfway (Hogback)
Solid Inner
Tarptent’s solid inner tents are made with a water resistant and windproof nylon fabric, and this is without a doubt, the most enclosed (and warm) option, blocking nearly all wind and to be honest, sleeping in a tent with a full fabric inner is a different experience, almost cabin-like. While this option can feel a bit detached from the outdoors, a solid inner is great for winter nights and adds noticeable, significant warmth when the temperatures drop and the wind picks up outside with the most protection from exterior elements, and is quite welcome in those conditions.

Solid inner example on a Scarp 2
Tarptent does offer a mesh ventilation panel at the top of each door here, but I’ve still noticed some condensation on the inner (forming into ice at the temperatures I use this option) using the solid inner on a Scarp 2. I have however, been quite warm regardless of condensation or not, and this has been a good option for Rocky Mountain winter trips when temperatures are very cold. This is the option that will block the most wind and retain the most heat at night.

Small mesh panels at the top of each door offer some ventilation on this Tarptent with a solid inner tent.
The Partial Solid Option
Now offered on many tents in Tarptent’s lineup, the partial solid interior is a compromise between the two above offerings, and if I had to choose is my favorite all around choice for 3 season backpacking here in the Rockies where nightly lows in the 40's are considered a warm night. The top of the inner tent is mesh, offering great ventilation, while the solid fabric extends about 1/3 to halfway up the sides (varying throughout the tent) to block wind, sand, a little shoulder season blown snow, and to seal in some additional heat at night.
Even on my last trip with a cold front approaching, a partial solid inner was quite appreciated – there is simply no direct, straight-line path for wind to reach you, and while there was quite the breeze stepping outside the partial solid-equipped Tarptent Hogback, wind inside was virtually 0. Perhaps the ultimate compromise inner, this option is however a bit warmer in regards to a cross breeze on hot days, although a nice touch can be found with the Velcro-secured end flaps, overlapping no-see-um netting, that can be folded down to increase north-south ventilation. The partial solid inner is heavier than mesh as well, and I was surprised that it added 6 ounces of weight in the case of my Hogback, for instance.

A blend of both types can be found with a partial solid inner.
Final Thoughts
Whichever route you take on the inner tent, all of them are cross-adaptable to various conditions to some degree, and for the best of all worlds you can always get both types of inners as well and change them out based upon conditions – the interiors are simply attached to the fly with a set of plastic hooks and matching rings or loops on the inner. Although this will take a little yard time before your trip – you can twist the hooks to release each, and then push to attach the new inner. And if you’re adding a different inner tent to an existing tent, the seams on the floor should be sealed (as with a new Tarptent) – I use Sil-Net Seam Sealer. I like to add some extra dots or a pattern of seam sealer on the floor as an anti-slip treatment while I’m at it, and I always add zipper pulls of some type to these inners as well. For all options, the mesh utilized is a bit fragile (especially if you often backpack with a dog like me) to save weight, so having a mesh repair kit can come in handy. The inner tents are available separately for around $150 if you already own your tent, or you can simply select one or the other or both if you're buying new.
In my case, having these various inner tent options available simply allows one to extend the tent of their preference further into the next season a bit, and has the ability to add a little more comfort mid-season at anytime of the year as well. For more in general on selecting a tent see our post on factors to consider when choosing a tent, and you can take a look at Tarptent’s full lineup here.

Last fall, my sister, Melissa, and I visited Big Bend National Park in west Texas (see TrailGroove #56). As we left, we decided that we needed to return in the spring – unfinished business! One of the main reasons was to hike the Mariscal Canyon Rim Trail, which we didn’t hike last trip as the temperature was going to be too high.

While our previous trip (detailed here) involved more extensive hiking and some backpacking, during our latest trip, we hiked several shorter hikes and drove, in her 4Runner, nearly every dirt backcountry road in the park, seeing the place as few visitors do. The highlight for us was the hike to the rim of Mariscal Canyon.
Hiking Mariscal Rim in Big Bend
There are three great canyons in Big Bend National Park. Farthest west is Santa Elena Canyon, and farthest east is Boquillas Canyon. Both of these canyons are accessible on paved roads that lead to relatively short hikes (about a mile each, one way). Along the middle of the southern edge of the park, forming the “big bend” is Mariscal Canyon. Mariscal is visited by far fewer hikers because to get to the trailhead you must have a high clearance (preferably 4WD) vehicle. It is about 30 miles from paved roads to the trailhead via River Road and Talley Road.
We arrived at backcountry campsite Talley #3 before dinner. The campsite is on the edge of the Rio Grande and has some shade from low trees. After dinner that night, we heard rustling and crunching in the woods. We weren’t sure what it was (Bear? Horse? Cow? Bigfoot?). It was just a cow. We heard some frogs during the evening and night (maybe Rio Grande leopard frogs) and watched and tried to identify the bats flying overhead. We didn’t have a lot of luck with identification, since they were out at dusk, and they all look similar when flying (at least to us).

We had a quiet night; there wasn’t anybody around, and it was fairly warm. In the morning, we got up around 6:30, had a quick breakfast, and broke camp. We drove the short distance to the parking area for the Mariscal Rim Trail, parked, and began our hike by 7:30, intent on beating the heat of the day (highs were predicted to be in the low 90s). Most of the first couple miles of the hike was fairly easy, flat with some minor ups and downs. Because of our early start, the trail was shaded by Mariscal Mountain to our east. The next part of the hike turns steeper as it approaches the mountain. For about a half mile, it is quite steep in places as it zig-zags higher and higher. Without cairns it would be very difficult to follow. Trekking poles helped too!

Along the hike, we spotted a hard-to-find living rock cactus and also found what we decided (and later confirmed) was the rare silverspine cholla, which is found nowhere else in the world except on and around Mariscal Mountain. There weren’t any cacti in bloom this trip (too early in the year), but we did spot a dog cholla which was full of buds, nearly ready to bloom (but didn’t reward us with the bloom on the way down). Once we arrived at the top, the canyon was just off to the south. At this point it is about 1,600 feet to the river below, and those cliffs are a sheer drop! We eased our way over to near the edge for photos. While up there, Melissa spotted some sheep in the distance which we thought were rare desert bighorn sheep but as it turned out, they were Barbary sheep (which are apparently invasive and are taking over the bighorn territory).
Another Big Bend Trip in the Books
Hiking back down the steep section was a bit treacherous at times, but we both made it with only a couple of minor slips. We got back to the car at noon, beating the worst of the heat. The hike was seven miles round-trip, with about 1,220 feet of elevation change. It took us 4.5 hours to complete the hike, with numerous photo stops and a long break up top. After we had some lunch, we drove back to River Road and continued to its east end at the paved highway.

A sheer drop to the Rio Grande River in Big Bend National Park.
With over 1,200 square miles, over 150 miles of trails, and environments ranging from desert to grassland to mountains, Big Bend National Park is a spectacular place to spend a day, a week, a month, or return to repeatedly. Hikes ranging from short and easy to multi-day and difficult await a hiker or backpacker in this, one of America’s great national parks.
Need to Know
Information
Four developed campgrounds exist in Big Bend, with reservations required for each campground. More information on camping can be found here. The park has 5 visitor centers and no permits are needed for hiking in Big Bend, but permits are needed for backcountry camping. It is critical that you take enough water on any backcountry excursion in the park – plan ahead. A gallon per person per day is generally suggested.
Getting There
Big Bend National Park is remote – 8 hours from Dallas and 5 hours from El Paso with the closest airports being Midland/Odessa and El Paso. To get to the Mariscal Rim trailhead, drive on River Road (over 25 miles from either end, a high-clearance vehicle – 4WD preferable – is needed) to Talley Road, then south about 5 miles to a parking area on the left. When we were there, no sign was at the trailhead, but it's a large parking area just past Talley #2 campsite. No permit is required.
Best Time to Go
Peak season is November through April with spring break being especially busy. Summer can be brutally hot and it can be quite hot in late spring and early fall as well. Campground reservations are required but can be made up to 6 months in advance.
Maps and Books
For a map we utilized Trails Illustrated Big Bend National Park 225. Take a look at Hiking Big Bend National Park for a guidebook and Nature Watch Big Bend is also a valuable resource.