Lines drawn on a map are peculiar. Sometimes they follow terrain features and make complete sense. Oklahoma and Texas, for instance, are divided both politically and geographically by the Red River, a natural enough line of separation although its shifting, serpentine course has made boundary disputes a regular thing.
Other lines are more confusing, and seemingly arbitrary. One example is the region containing the “panhandles” of these two states. Oklahoma’s panhandle is a strip of la
For most hikers and backpackers, when they think of Washington their thoughts tend to drift to the rugged grandeur of the North Cascades or the rainforests, beaches, and mountains of the Olympic Peninsula. The beauty and opportunities for amazing trips in those locales can certainly not be understated. As evidenced by increasing crowds at many trailheads in recent years, and stiff competition for permits in areas where they are required, the public lands in the western part of the state aren’t (
Water and sand, water and sand, water and sand – it’s been a few years since I visited the canyon country of Utah and I forgot about the mix of water and sand here that can permeate one’s hiking shoes. I should have worn sandals. I read about walking the wet canyon bottom, but I stuck with my hiking shoes anyway. This time I arrived to explore Coyote Gulch, a photogenic but crowded canyon which cuts across Grand Staircase National Monument and the Glen Canyon National Recreation Area of south-ce
The Owens Valley and its surrounding mountains are far from the place I grew up and have become one of my favorite parts of this great nation. When I first came here I felt like I had discovered a secret. A lost and secret land. This dry country goes unconquered by man.
The valleys between the mountain ranges are grand, quiet and peaceful, possessing a haunting beauty unique to this area. To many who first look upon it, the starkness of this landscape seems unnatural and provokes confusion,
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 c
Although the quintessential image of backpacking is of alpine lakes, thick forests and craggy peaks, deserts offer the well-prepared backpacker breathtaking scenery and an opportunity for longer hikes months before most mountains have melted out. Desert backpacking is typically associated with the iconic landscapes of the Southwest and destinations such as Canyonlands National Park, Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument, Grand Canyon National Park, and numerous other national parks, forest
Like most Americans who were raised in the East and born after the mid 1970s or so, volcanoes are something I associate with middle school science classes and dramatic pictures of Mount Saint Helens and its 1980 eruption. Even after I became enthralled with backpacking and natural landscapes after frequent trips to the sandstone wonderlands of the Cumberland Plateau and the forested slopes of the ancient Appalachian Mountains, hiking around a volcano seemed like a ludicrously exotic experience.
If you're in the Midwest, the Porcupine Mountains might be your #1 go to backpacking destination. Scenic views abound and old growth forests dominate the interior. Head to the north side of the park and you'll find yourself greeted with the pristine and beautiful waters of the world’s largest freshwater lake. For an excellent day hike, park at the Lake of the Clouds overlook and explore the Escarpment Trail (amazing views).
Along the Escarpment Trail in the Porcupine Mountains
If
Choosing a trail is often half the adventure in the scenic Trinity Alps Wilderness. The Trinity’s are somewhat like a wilderness island in northern California: to the east you’ll find Interstate 5 and the snow-capped volcanoes of Mount Shasta and Mount Lassen. To the west is the mighty Pacific Ocean and its rugged coastline. All the while to the north and south, wrapping the wilderness is an impenetrable green of mixed pines, woods, and streams isolating the Alps into its own serenity. Choosing
Distance mode. Proximity mode. Red light night vision mode. At 90 lumens, my new Black Diamond Spot headlamp is the newest addition to my backpacking kit in ages. For the second or third time on today’s maiden voyage hike, I unsheathe the Spot from my Gregory Z65’s brain pouch, cradle it in my fingers, and imagine how its endless wonderful qualities will make every trip better. The blood red bezel’s sharp lines attach to a diagonally-shaded retro headband conjuring the aura of Optimus Prime.
Most backpacking trips enter a figurative “Paradise” at some point or another. It could be an exquisite sunset, a perfect campsite, or time spent mesmerized by a waterfall. My trip along the Selway River Trail with my stalwart backpacking companion Justin had the amusing distinction of actually beginning at a Paradise. The Paradise boat launch and trailhead in the Bitterroot National Forest in a remote corner of Idaho, to be exact.
From here we would follow the Selway River downstream
The opposite bank is tantalizingly close, just a couple of meters away. In fact, it would be fewer than 10 paces on solid ground. Instead, we can only gaze longingly across the un-crossable, raging river that stands between us and the next section of our route. We are stuck on the west bank of the Duke River. It’s a crushing defeat. On a normal hike, this would be a mild inconvenience, but we are on day six of a backpacking epic that is far from normal.
View of a scenic upland section
Less than a mile up the trail and the space between my shoulder blades already aches. I’m regretting the overpriced mini tube of sunblock, which the dense trees and clouds have rendered unnecessary, the extra layer I threw in at the last minute, and my insistence on healthful foods that caused me to pack two pounds of green beans and carrots fresh from the garden, a jar of sunflower seed butter, and three loaves of German bread the size, shape, and weight of bricks.
My last backpackin
I stood, breathless and exhausted, on the top of the divide, looking down at the pristine and untrailed cirque that lay ahead. My route bared before me, for a moment continuing on across the three passes that lay ahead seemed achievable. Then my eyes lifted to the glaciated massif of 7,600-foot Mount Mystery on the opposite wall of the basin, and my shaking legs sent an unmistakable message: I would make it no further.
Olympic National Park offers hikers rugged terrain and stunning vi
I love the wide open spaces and views of the American West. So, I arranged for another westward trek, this time to southern Nevada. My sister Melissa and I drove her Toyota 4Runner, an excellent vehicle for the narrow, rough roads on which we would be driving. We planned on going to the Buffington Pockets area, Gold Butte National Monument, both northeast of Las Vegas, and the Vermilion Cliffs in northern Arizona (the subject for another story).
We added, on the fly, a visit to Grand
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
Arkansas: The Natural State. Nothing is more natural than this remote wilderness deep in the Ozark National Forest in the northern part of the state. This wonderful wild place is known as Richland Creek Wilderness, where waterfalls, not-so-secret caves, thick forests, swimming holes, bluffs, colorful fall foliage, wildflowers, and more are to be found. There are a multitude of boulder-dotted creeks in the Wilderness, the main ones being Big Devils Fork, Long Devils Fork, and Richland Creek. Rich
Words fail and even photographs fall short of doing justice to the incredible Narrows hike in Zion National Park, especially in the fall. The Southwest US is a treasure trove of world-class locations to hike and photograph, but the Narrows has to be at or near the top of that list. It’s hard to imagine a blue-green river lined with golden cottonwood trees and soaring canyon walls glowing fiery red all around you. Surreal and otherworldly are about the only words that come close to describing the
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 s
The Anaconda Pintler Wilderness is an overlooked gem in the state of Montana. It doesn’t have the notoriety of a Glacier National Park, or the iconic awe of “The Bob” (as in the Bob Marshall Wilderness), but it has the solitude and grandeur of some of the best wilderness the west has to offer. Lying in the vicinity of Butte, Montana, but closer to the copper-smelting town of Anaconda, this wilderness is part of the spine of the Rocky Mountains and also encompasses a 45-mile stretch of the Contin
Birdsong filled the canyon as we stepped into the cool of the morning. By arriving at dawn, my sister, Carol Harper, and I were beating both the crowds and the heat of the late July day, the former objective intensified by our recent escape from the summer hordes at Colorado’s Rocky Mountain National Park. A stop at Bandelier National Monument near Los Alamos, New Mexico presented an appealing alternative on the way home to Oklahoma. Not exactly on the way, but close enough.
Signs of
Strong men and women are laid low by this place. Acute mountain sickness, the “Khumbu cough" (also known as the high altitude hack), gastroenteritis, the cold, the food...what makes them want to come here? What made me want to come here? Our friend Paul walks down the hall of tonight’s tea house, remarking on the sounds of hacking and coughing emitting from the guest rooms. “This place is full of crazy people.” And I can’t argue otherwise.
I wondered, before I came to Nepal to hike to
The Cascades have a reputation for long and brushy approaches, and the Pickets, a subrange in far northern Washington, have a particularly bad reputation in both respects. Even after escaping the dense vegetation, reaching many of the summits would feature more technical climbing than hiking. Together, these two factors have deterred most hikers from even contemplating a trip to this rugged and scenic area.
The Pickets' reputation is not entirely deserved: Whatcom Peak at the far nort
Winter had been especially harsh, even while living in the mild climate of Colorado’s Front Range. Multiple subzero nights had made me tired of the cold, longing for a warm retreat. As good as a tropical vacation with white sandy beaches sounded, I felt the need to get out and get dirty in the desert. I had backpacked into the Grand Canyon a year before in the spring of 2013, but it was an unplanned trip, and I had been very lucky, grabbing a walk-in permit for Bright Angel Campground.
We were five days into a trek across Olympic National Park – at low elevation in mid-summer. Even though I was tired and about as cold as I think I've ever been, I was relishing the experience. I knew it was always the hard days that we remember most, and most of the days on this trip were hard. Really hard. And after this experience down at Cream Lake I knew I’d be able to tell a good story.
We also remember the beautiful days. Our ten-day journey – our own take on a traverse of the Bailey