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Backpacker's Pantry Pad Thai with Chicken Review

Pad Thai with Chicken from Backpacker’s Pantry takes their most popular dinner – the vegetarian Pad Thai – and adds chicken with a “meal kit” including a lime packet and Sriracha powder, so you can customize the meal to your personal tastes. Right off the bat, it stands out that the meal packs a punch in the calorie department (for a pre-made backpacking meal at least), at 840 calories total. As I’m personally a fan of a meatatarian meal for dinner when I’m on the trail (after all, br

Aaron Zagrodnick

Aaron Zagrodnick in Food

Ancient Wanderings: Hiking in the Ventana Wilderness

I collect hidden places of refuge in the wilderness. At least once a year I retreat to one of these havens to renew my spirit. These spots have a few things in common: They are off trail, deep in the wilderness, difficult to get to, and a delightful surprise when first discovered. And, when I am there, being alone feels exactly right. Deep within one of California’s coastal mountain ranges in the Ventana Wilderness, one such location is a sandstone cave at the base of a large rock outcroppi

George Graybill

George Graybill in Trips

Ruffwear Cloud Chaser Dog Jacket: A 14 Year Review

Whether you are venturing out on a day hike with inclement weather in the forecast, or heading out on a multi-day backpacking trip, when you’re doing so with a canine companion taking the appropriate gear not only for yourself, but also for your dog is critical. A dog jacket is one such item that I put to constant use on the trail – nearly every backpacking trip into the mountains – in addition to other dog-specific gear like dog packs and sleeping bags. While there are many dog jackets that wil

Aaron Zagrodnick

Aaron Zagrodnick in Gear

Solitude in the Sapphire Mountains of Montana

I’ve always placed a premium on solitude when planning my outdoor activities and, with some planning and luck, have never found it to be particularly difficult to obtain. However, with trails across the country being more crowded than ever the past few years, it’s taken a bit more effort even in sparsely populated western Montana to have that lake, peak, or meadow all to yourself. Fortunately, with a bit of flexibility and research I was able to turn a short-notice opportunity for an overnight t

Mark Wetherington

Mark Wetherington in Trips

Shenandoah National Park: Hiking Back East for a Change

It’s almost as if the Pacific Ocean is a magnet, pulling me west each time I venture out to explore. While I take full advantage of the natural wonders offered by my home region in the central U.S., if I am traveling very far to hike, it is usually somewhere west of Oklahoma. As a result, I have hiked very little in the eastern United States, though I’ve managed to walk short sections of the Appalachian Trail on trips to Vermont and Maryland. Not much to brag about. Recently, I was in

Susan Dragoo

Susan Dragoo in Trips

Toaks 550ml Titanium Pot Review

When it comes to backpacking cookware, most of us can keep things simple with a pot combined with a mug of choice. Especially when solo backpacking however, using the same vessel for both purposes is one option to save weight, save pack space, and is a great way to keep the camp kitchen even simpler. The Toaks 550 is about the smallest option you can go with that will still perform well across the board as an all in one solution. The Toaks 550 is made of titanium to save weight, and f

Aaron Zagrodnick

Aaron Zagrodnick in Gear

Hiking, Biking, and Climbing to Three Fingers Lookout

We had been warned that the Three Fingers Lookout wasn’t for the faint of heart. But that didn’t take away from the shock of first seeing it. The hut was just a speck in the distance, perched precariously on a jagged spire of rock rising up above a crevasse-riddled glacier and a low sea of clouds. From our vantage, it seemed impossible that the wooden hut could balance there for another night, let alone that there would be a passable trail to reach it. My partner, Emily, and I had got

mgraw

mgraw in Trips

Backpacking Gear: Down vs. Synthetic Insulation

Before you begin to narrow down your choice of a sleeping bag or jacket for backpacking usage, there’s one key decision you must arrive at first: the choice of down vs. synthetic insulation. The source of much debate, both options have mostly pros and a few cons. In this post we’ll detail why you might choose one over the other and detail the performance of down and synthetic insulation across various backpacking situations. Down and synthetic backpacking jackets Down Insulation

Aaron Zagrodnick

Aaron Zagrodnick in Gear

Hollow Fiber Backpacking Water Filter Care & Maintenance

While many methods for backcountry water treatment exist, hollow fiber filters are quite popular due to their ease of use, effectiveness, reasonable cost, and longevity. While a hollow fiber filter is quite simple – with the filter itself having no moving parts and working through a multitude of hollow tubes (each hollow tube then having a multitude of microscopic pores, which actually filter the water) the filter element will still need to be maintained and some basic precautions should be exer

Aaron Zagrodnick

Aaron Zagrodnick in Gear

Hiking in Yosemite: Waterfalls and Winter Solitude

It's an early December afternoon in Yosemite National Park, and I'm watching a bobcat padding down the trail in front of me. In his mouth is a lifeless gray squirrel, so large that he drops it several times. He turns and surveys me with the lazy arrogance of a house cat who's proud of his kill. I'm unsure if I should be following this wild creature down the trail. I think of how animals are protective of their food. Still, the large cat and I are headed the same way, so I continue at a distance.

Allison Johnson

Allison Johnson in Trips

Ruffwear Highlands Dog Sleeping Bag Review

Backpacking with a dog will always add an extra section to your gear list, and when hiking during the colder shoulder season or winter months and in mountain locations that generally are always somewhat chilly at night, keeping your dog warm for a restful night of sleep is an important factor to consider. The Ruffwear Highlands sleeping bag for dogs is one way to provide insulation for your dog at night and is a dog sleeping bag solution I’ve used on the trail many times – when you're backpackin

Aaron Zagrodnick

Aaron Zagrodnick in Gear

The Crossing: A Hike Across Olympic National Park

Chris, Randy and I sat at a local brewery, a map of Olympic National Park spread across the table. We had climbed in the Olympics for decades, but now we were attempting something different – a thru hike from one side of the park to another. You might have thought planning to cross using established routes would be simple, but it was proving anything but. “Even the freaking rain forest is on fire.” Chris traced a route with his finger. The Pacific Northwest was suffering through one of its

Doug Emory

Doug Emory in Trips

Petzl IKO CORE Rechargeable Headlamp Review

For whatever reason, headlamps have not been an item I’ve paid particular attention to during a decade of backpacking. I’m on my third or fourth headlamp, but whenever I’ve needed to replace one (lost, intermittent failure issues, decided to make it a spare to keep in the car, etc.) I’ve simply purchased whatever was most similar to the previous one. Bells and whistles were never that intriguing to me when it came to headlamps (although one of mine did have a whistle built into the plastic on th

Mark Wetherington

Mark Wetherington in Gear

Feathered Friends Down Booties Review

Few items provide as much comfort for the weight during frigid backpacking trips as dedicated down booties. Cold feet can quickly sap out any enjoyment of wonderful winter scenery and can easily discourage someone from ever attempting winter backpacking or cross-country ski touring. While down jackets can easily keep your core warm, having a full-body strategy for keeping in heat is crucial for winter trips where you’re spending a significant amount of time in camp. Down booties provide a soluti

Mark Wetherington

Mark Wetherington in Gear

Backpacking the Pioneer Mountains of Montana

As a backpacker, I’ve found few things more enjoyable than hiking over a nameless and trail-less mountain pass to beautiful subalpine lakes with trout swimming in their frigid waters. In the mountain ranges of Montana, this isn’t too difficult a feat to accomplish, at least logistically. However, the physical challenge of gaining nearly a thousand vertical feet in well under a mile of horizontal travel is nothing to scoff at, regardless of your conditioning. With millions of acres of public land

Mark Wetherington

Mark Wetherington in Trips

Dyneema Composite Fabric / Cuben Fiber and Backpacking

Dyneema Composite Fabric, often shortened to DCF and previously referred to as Cuben Fiber, is a fabric made from Dyneema fibers that are embedded in a polyester film to form a single material or fabric. Due to the high strength to weight ratio of the Dyneema fibers and its low stretch combined with inherent waterproofness, DCF and Cuben Fiber has proven to be a popular option for lightweight and ultralight backpacking gear over the past several years, and usage continues to grow in popularity f

Aaron Zagrodnick

Aaron Zagrodnick in Gear

Mountain House Mexican Style Adobo Rice & Chicken Review

A few years ago Mountain House introduced their Mexican Style Adobo Rice and Chicken Meal – bringing backpackers, hikers, or just about anyone looking for a quick meal a decent Mexican themed option that's also compatible with gluten free diets. And while normally we don't dive too much into packaging here at TrailGroove, in this case it deserves mention with a redesign that not only includes an artwork update but important updates to functionality as well introduced in 2020. A classi

Aaron Zagrodnick

Aaron Zagrodnick in Food

Arizona Wonderland: Hiking Chiricahua National Monument

Along with towering mountains and alpine lakes, awe-inspiring rock formations are one of the quintessential landscape features of the American West. From Devil’s Tower in Wyoming, to Delicate Arch in Utah, to Half Dome in California, iconic formations draw hikers and sightseers to far-flung public lands to witness the majesty sculpted by nature. In the Southwest, rock formations are by and large the main attraction. National parks, monuments, and other public lands contain enough arches, canyons

Mark Wetherington

Mark Wetherington in Trips

NEMO Switchback Sleeping Pad Review

I think we can all agree that getting a good night’s sleep is essential to enjoying a backpack trip. But it is also a challenge. If you are accustomed to sleeping on a bed, as most of us are, then the transition from mattress to ground is a hard one. We need something to cushion that transition and thus some sort of sleeping pad is a part of nearly every hiker’s kit. Inflatable sleeping pads best mimic the mattress sleeping experience. But they have their drawbacks: they are fairly heavy (often

HappyHour

HappyHour in Gear

ULA Equipment Photon Backpack Review

For many years, I’ve been a big fan of backpacks from ULA Equipment, as they always really seem to hit the nail on the head when it comes to a balance of convenience, durability, weight, and price in a pack. For all of my backpacking trips I use the ULA Circuit – review here – and while there’s another pack or two on the market that I’d like to try at some point, the trusty Circuit always handles the job so well with no complaints from me that no other backpacking pack really gets a chance in my

Aaron Zagrodnick

Aaron Zagrodnick in Gear

Olympic National Park: Backpacking the Quiet Corner

From beaches to rainforests to glaciers, Olympic National Park provides hikers with access to a stunning variety of landscapes. Although I’ve barely scratched the surface of what there is to do in the park’s 922,650 acres, I have had the privilege of soaking in its hot springs, swimming in its alpine lakes, and walking among the giant trees in its rainforest. The extensive trail network of Olympic National Park allows for memorable backpacking trips of all lengths, from overnight outings to week

Mark Wetherington

Mark Wetherington in Trips

Digital Backpacking Scales: Pack Faster and Lighter

Of all the backpacking related gear I utilize, a digital scale has to be one of the most overlooked and underrated items – a scale is something I use in a variety of ways when preparing for any backpacking trip. While a scale isn’t an item actually on our gear list or something we’ll be taking on a trip, a scale is a tool that helps to get us out there faster and lighter – by aiding with packing speed and convenience as well as helping to keep weights down before we grab our pack and head for th

Aaron Zagrodnick

Aaron Zagrodnick in Gear

How to Choose the Best Backpacking and Hiking Headlamp

A good light for backpacking and hiking is a required and essential safety item and a category for which there are no shortage of options available – and considering the convenience and hands-free operation provided, headlamps are the most popular option for your backcountry lighting needs. What follows is an overview of features to consider when selecting a headlamp for the outdoors and thoughts on lighting needs for the trail. A headlamp for backpacking and hiking should be lightwei

Aaron Zagrodnick

Aaron Zagrodnick in Gear

  • Blog Entries

    • Aaron Zagrodnick
      By Aaron Zagrodnick in TrailGroove Blog 0
      An EN rating (European Norm 13537) is a testing and rating system that standardizes sleeping bag temperature ratings across manufacturers into a relatively easy to understand and comparable scale. Achieved by measuring thermal efficiency utilizing a sensor-equipped mannequin in a specialized environment, the results of an EN Rating are comprised of 4 parts, and generally you’ll just focus on the comfort rating (women), and the lower limit (men).

      Backpacking sleeping bags that have an EN Rating allow you to compare different bags all on the same scale.
      EN Rating Terminology
      Upper Limit
      The highest temperature that the average adult man can sleep in comfort.
      Comfort Limit
      The lowest temperature at which the average adult woman can sleep comfortably.
      Lower Limit
      The lowest temperature at which the average adult man can sleep comfortably.
      Extreme Limit
      The lowest survivable temperature for the average adult woman.
      Do All Manufacturers EN Test?
      Many mainstream manufacturers are now having their bags EN tested to remove the variability that may come with a manufacturer-determined rating. However, many manufacturers of excellent bags choose to skip the process of an EN test and stick with more traditional means when it comes to providing a temperature rating for their sleeping bags.
      For plenty of EN Rated sleeping bags, see this page at REI Co-op, and for more on backpacking sleeping bags, see our guide on How to Choose the Best Backpacking Sleeping Bag.
      Editor’s Note: This article originally appeared in Issue 25 of TrailGroove Magazine. You can read the original article here.
    • BSuess
      By BSuess in TrailGroove Blog 0
      Oklahoma is generally not high on most lists of hiking destinations. Common perceptions of the state are rooted in the Dust Bowl: flat, arid plains; dust storms; and a generally inhospitable place to live. Much of Oklahoma still fits this bill, though it is less arid than expected, and the farms and ranches are productive again. It does not seem like the place for hikers to go in search of interesting terrain, wilderness and beauty. Emerging from the unyielding flatness of the Oklahoma plains, the Wichita Mountains are a revelation of surprising beauty, craggy mountains and untamed wilderness.

      When nearing the outskirts of the Wichitas, the flatness of the fields gives way to rolling foothills punctuated by an occasional rocky outcrop. Once in the heart of the range, rugged domes and high peaks composed of pink, weathered granite proliferate, revealing an unexpectedly ragged mountain fastness. Yet, the mountains, amazing as they are, are not the only treasures in the Wichita Mountains. The Wichita Mountains National Wildlife Refuge contains the bulk of the range itself and nearly all the publicly accessible land. Consequently, these mountains are home to one of the largest bison herds on public lands as well as elk, deer, prairie dogs, armadillos and the other usual denizens of the plains, plus an unusual herd of feral longhorn cattle. Taken together, the mountains and the wildlife combine to form an exceptional hiking destination.
      First Hikes in the Wichita Mountains
      I first discovered the Wichita Mountains at the beginning of a four-year stint at graduate school in Dallas. Growing up in northern California, I had not quite realized how important mountains and the wilderness were to me. My first semester in Texas was difficult as I came to terms with my self-imposed exile in the flatlands. When asked about where to go, Dallas residents all pointed me to the Texas Hill Country, which, though interesting and supplying some hiking opportunities, failed to satisfy my hunger for wilderness. By accident, I stumbled across a brief reference to the Wichita Mountains on the internet. Though doubtful of their mountain qualities I made the three hour drive north to Lawton, Oklahoma the following weekend. As I approached, the peaks loomed on the horizon. It was a dramatic moment, the realization that a mountain oasis existed not far from the Dallas Metroplex.

      Not only were the Wichitas a wildlife refuge, they were also a hiker’s refuge. Although the area was not vast compared to a national park or a national forest, the mountains were so rugged that there was immense opportunity for exploration packed into a relatively small area. Over the next four years I returned to the Wichitas again and again, piercing ever deeper into the heart of the mountains, discovering unexpectedly wonderful sites. Though there were many great memories built during these journeys, the one that stands out was a backpacking trip during the elk rut. All afternoon and through the night, their unique bugle could be heard as I set up camp and went to sleep. That night, as the elk bulls continued to call out into the darkness, a lone bison walked nonchalantly through my camp, only a few feet away from me. As I lay there looking up at the stars, I was amazed that such a land could be found in Oklahoma.
      The Wichita Mountains are a small mountain range. Rather than being a single block of mountains, the Wichitas a series of several separate batholiths. The western half of the range consists of numerous isolated granite islands protruding from the flat Oklahoma farmland. Most of this area is privately owned, though there are two spots that are accessible to the public. Quartz Mountain State Park is the larger with the more interesting landscape. The park boasts a few developed trails, a number of very good opportunities for off-trail exploration, and Baldy Point, one of the finest climbing areas in the Wichitas. Great Plains State Park also offers public hiking. Unfortunately, most of the park is occupied by a lake and only the southern fringes have any mountains of note. Thankfully, there is a developed trail here that explores this small slice of the park.
      The Eastern Wichitas
      The eastern half of the Wichita Mountains is remarkably different. Rather than isolated plutons punctuating the land, the eastern range is a large collection of peaks, canyons and valleys. Almost the entire area is contained within the Wichita Mountains National Wildlife Refuge (WMNWR) and the U.S. Army’s Fort Sill Military Reservation. Although Fort Sill is closed to the public, hikers and backpackers will find ample opportunities in the WMNWR to explore the part of the Wichitas with the highest concentration of peaks, exposed granite, amazing rock formations and wildlife.
      Within the WMNWR itself, much of the land is set aside for use only by the refuge’s animal denizens. Still, there are three portions of the park that are open for public exploration. The first of these is the Mount Scott area, at the extreme east end of the park. No trails exist within this area but it consists of open granite dotted by the occasional juniper and post oak, trees that are common throughout the entire mountain range. Although this area is essentially trail-less, there is a road to the top of Mount Scott, the second highest peak in the WMNWR. The views from the summit are spectacular and take in most of the refuge and beyond.

      The Dog Run Hollow area, the second section of the WMNWR that is open to the public, is of more interest to hikers. This occupies the central part of the refuge. Unlike the Mount Scott area, there is a well-developed trail system providing access to some interesting destinations. The Dog Run Hollow Trail is a large, five-mile loop. Connector trails allow for a few different route options. The most interesting part of the Dog Run Hollow Trail is the east end, where the trail follows the rim of Cache Creek’s small but rocky canyon. During high water the creek tumbles down pretty cascades before flowing into Forty-Foot Hole. At the hole, the creek passes through a small gorge with sheer cliffs. The name is derived from the fact that the cliffs extend forty feet below the surface of the water, making a surprisingly deep pool. Beyond the trail system, the Dog Run Hollow area also has plenty of room for cross-country exploration on the west side of Cache Creek. This includes another, larger canyon called the Narrows, a favorite area for rock climbers.
      Charon's Garden
      Though the Mount Scott and Dog Run Hollow areas offer good hiking and scrambling opportunities, the Charon’s Garden Wilderness is the jewel of the Wichita Mountains. Here one finds all the best attributes that define the Wichita Mountains: high peaks, narrow canyons, caves, unusual rock formations, wildlife, and human history all gathered together, amplified and arranged in spectacular fashion. Although the Wichitas’ pink granite is ubiquitous throughout the mountain range, here it is manifest on an unequaled scale. The area is so rugged that it is easy to see why it was set aside as a wilderness, preserved in its primeval state: it was considered too inhospitable to be of any use to farmers and ranchers. However, what was unwelcoming to those who earn their living from the ground is a paradise to those who draw other kinds of sustenance from the land. The Charon’s Garden Wilderness offers hikers and, to a lesser extent, backpackers, a chaotic jumble of peaks and canyons to explore. Though the area is small, it is such a maze of rock that there is the opportunity for multi-day exploration without exhausting all of the sights found in the wilderness.

      There are two developed trails in the Charon’s Garden Wilderness. Both trails depart from the Sunset Trailhead on the area’s north side. The most popular route is the Elk Mountain Trail, a 1.1-mile trail that climbs to the broad summit plateau of Elk Mountain, the wilderness’s tallest peak. Though relatively short, the trail is only the beginning of the journey on Elk Mountain. The summit is expansive, with lots of potential for exploring the enormous boulders and delicate vernal pools. The Rock Rooms are a series of caves created by massive boulders stacked together in a draw on the south side of Elk Mountain. Some enter the caves and descend through the darkness from the summit plateau several hundred feet down to an exit at the base of the mountain.
      The second trail to penetrate the wilderness is the 2.2-mile Charon’s Garden Trail. This path skirts the western foot of Elk Mountain before passing through the Valley of the Boulders, which also contains cavernous rooms between the massive house-sized boulders. High above the trail brood the enormous Apple and Pear, a pair of boulders, true to their namesakes. Beyond the boulder fields, the trail parallels Post Oak Creek, the only watershed in the Charon’s Garden Wilderness. The route finally ends at the wilderness area’s southern trailhead. Along the way, the path passes by Post Oak and Little Post Oak Falls, the only notable waterfalls in the Wichita Mountains.

      Though these trails offer scenery far exceeding anything one would expect from this part of America, they are really just appetizers to the real adventure of the Charon’s Garden Wilderness. The only way to truly explore this wilderness is to depart the trail and scramble over the cliffs and boulders, climb down into the draws filled with thickets of juniper and oak, and ascend the peaks that dot the wilderness. There, one finds the true essence of the wilderness in the Wichita Mountains. Though human feet seldom journey into the hinterlands beyond the trails, the feet of bison, deer and elk are no strangers to these lands. They, along with geologic wonders like the appropriately named Crab Eyes and the numerous peaks, ensure there is no lack of destinations to explore.

      Although the number of official trails in the wilderness is limited, the Refuge makes the expectation of cross-country travel explicit. Backpacking is allowed in the wilderness, but camping is permitted only in a broad valley between the heart of the wilderness and Sunset Peak, a lone mountain occupying the northern part of the region. While there are use-trails, there are not official trails accessing the camping area. Bison and longhorn cattle often frequent this valley, adding significantly to its scenic quality. The Crab Eyes, twin rocks perched precariously on a 100 foot tall column of rock, are easily reached from the camping area as well.
      Hikers and backpackers are not the only people who have fallen under the spell of the Charon’s Garden region. Rock climbers have developed numerous routes in the wilderness and elsewhere in the Wichita Mountains. Indeed, the Wichitas are considered one of the finest climbing destinations east of the Rocky Mountains. The granite slabs and walls draw climbers from around the area and across the country. Trails blazed by climbers to reach climbing areas are eagerly used by hikers as well.
      Final Thoughts on Oklahoma's Wichita Mountains
      After I finished school in Texas, I returned home to California. Now surrounded by more familiar hiking haunts, I strangely found myself longing for my small granite refuge in Oklahoma. The tiny mountain range had cast its spell on me and helped me to redefine my definitions of wilderness, of beauty and what I considered spectacular. Places in California that I had disregarded in favor of the grand towers of the Sierra Nevada had a new appeal to me. My time in the Wichita Mountains had blessed me with an appreciation for the beauty found in lands not so tall or vast, but still rich with a glory and wonder of their own. I suspect this spell of the Wichitas will be with me as long as I live.
      Resources
      For getting to and from the trailhead and exploring other Oklahoma destinations, the Delorme Oklahoma Atlas & Gazetteer can be a useful resource. See the Hiking Oklahoma Falcon Guide for more information on hikes in the state.
      Editor's Note: This article by contributor Bubba Suess originally appeared in Issue 9 of TrailGroove Magazine. You can read the original article here for additional photos and content.
    • HappyHour
      By HappyHour in TrailGroove Blog 0
      The badlands of West Texas are among the most thinly settled lands in the country. Sparse and desolate, this region west of the Pecos is nearly uninhabited. Only 5000 people occupy the 8000 square miles that stretch between the Guadalupe Mountains on the Texas-New Mexico border and the Rio Grande. It is a land unsuited for agriculture or even grazing, with little grass or fertile land. What water there is can be salty and unpalatable, as likely to cause digestive distress as to quench thirst. Few will feel completely at home here.

      An astounding view in Guadalupe Mountains National Park.
      A Guadalupe Mountains Trip Begins
      I was making the drive from the El Paso airport back to my camp in Guadalupe Mountain National Park. In the passenger seat next to me was Strider, a hiker attempting the Great Plains Trail – a route from Texas to Montana via New Mexico, Colorado, Wyoming, Nebraska, the Dakotas and Montana. It's still a route, not a trail, and not a well-defined route at that. The Great Plains Trail Association was providing him with logistical support across the stretches of waterless country and private lands in New Mexico.
      He sat silently, answering my occasional questions but asking none himself, staring out at the landscape. Strider is from Minnesota. He had hiked the North Country Trail, which stretches 4600 miles between South Dakota to New York. But he had never hiked the desert, and I couldn't blame him for feeling a bit uneasy when he got a close-up look at what the Chihuahuan had to offer.
      It was mid-February, and years of drought had turned the creosote and rabbitbrush a sere and uniform brown, imposing a degree of monotony not found in other deserts. The Sonoran Desert abounds in a stylish diversity of cacti that lend shape, color, and relief to the landscape. The Mojave is much more sparse and much less diverse, but its sparseness opens up a bounty of rock and sand gardens that invite the explorer. The Chihuahua is neither lush nor open nor diverse. The land merely rolls in long indifferent brown waves which evoke the ancient Permian sea that once covered it.

      The sea of scrub breaks finally against the walls of the Guadalupe Mountains, an ancient limestone reef rising 3,000 feet and more above the desert floor. At 8749 feet, Guadalupe Peak is the highest point in Texas. The sheer towers of the peak stand like a lighthouse in the desert, a beacon for travelers on business honest or otherwise. It is the easternmost of the sky islands that punctuate the southern deserts of the U.S., stretching from Mt. San Jacinto eastward, like an archipelago scattered in a sea of sand and brush. I grew up in southern Arizona, surrounded by these islands – the Santa Catalinas, the Rincons, the Santa Ritas – which harbor lush shady springs at their feet and rise up to support towering forests of majestic ponderosa pines along their crests. As a boy I spent many dreary schoolroom hours staring out at them, daydreaming of climbing their rocks and following their canyon streams. Like any other islands, the sky islands seemed to me a place of escape and mystery, an exotic landscape that begged to be explored.
      We arrived at the Pine Springs Campground, and Strider day-hiked to the top of Guadalupe Peak that evening, carrying his full pack even though he would be returning to spend the night. He was starting the hike on his own terms. I had stashed some water at the Five Points Vista some forty trail miles to the north. Once started, he would not need my help for a few days and so I had the opportunity to explore the Guadalupe sky island on my own.

      After seeing Strider off the next morning, I walked down to the visitor center to get my backcountry permit. The desk was staffed by a cheerful young woman who seemed surprised by my request, but willingly pulled out the log book nonetheless. I described my proposed itinerary, a 3 day/2 night loop of some 20 miles through the heart of the park. She seemed skeptical. "Are you going to bail out on this hike?" It was my turn to be taken aback. "No, why would I come here, get a permit and then not hike?" "Well, most people get a few miles into the backcountry and decide it's too steep and dry and then bail" "Those people must be flatlanders. No self-respecting Coloradan would do that." "Maybe." She looked up from her log book, an arched brow conveying her opinion of my self-respect. "Camp only in the designated sites, and carry at least a gallon of water per day. Make sure someone else knows when you are supposed to be back, we won't go find you. Enjoy your hike."
      Into the Guadalupe Backcountry
      I headed back to the campground, parked the car, loaded my pack down with seven liters of slightly salty water from the campground faucet and headed out on the trail. The Pine Springs Campground sits at about 5600 feet, the rim of the sky island is close to 8000 feet. I made my way steadily up the well-graded trail, stopping every few hundred yards to wheeze away the remnants of an unresolved cold. The winter sun was warm and pleasant, and the views at every switchback gave me a good excuse to stop and rest for a bit. No point in pushing the pace. I was climbing the canyon wall facing Guadalupe Peak, with the rock formations of Devil's Hall below, and a river of rocks in the canyon bottom flowing out into the Chihuahuan Desert. It was not a comfortable or familiar sort of terrain, but it felt good to be out: out on the trail, out among the rocks, out under a blue sky rimmed with limestone ridges and peaks, wondering what awaited me above, up on the shores of the island.
      A couple hours hiking brought me up to the rim, and an abrupt transition. The shadeless canyon wall I had climbed gave way to a forest of junipers, pines, and oaks. A quartet of mule deer was browsing at the trail junction and slipped quietly away as I threw off my pack for a lunch break.

      The still air of the canyon was replaced by a chilly wind. Not surprising, as these mountains rise thousands of feet above an otherwise featureless plain that extends for hundreds of miles in every direction. Something about the wind reminded me of the Tehachapi Mountains of California. I am pretty sure that "Tehachapi" is a Native word that means "mountains of cold winds", and the wind here, like there, was cold, austere, and punchy.
      There's nothing like a bit of breeze to cut short lunch break ruminations and get a hiker moving again. The big climb done, the trail now rolled easily through the mostly forested slopes and ravines of the mountain top. The trees were mixture of Gambel oak, ponderosa pine, alligator juniper and even the occasional Douglas fir. The landscape seemed pleasant enough, but something was off, not quite right.
      A few more miles of walking brought me to the backcountry campground, thoughtfully situated on the lee side of the ridge away from the prevailing winds. The sites are well-protected by trees, spacious and nicely graded. There were a half-dozen of them and they all looked unused. I picked one with the best lounging spot, pitched my tent, and then sat out behind a rock to snack on trail mix, write in my journal and read.

      I was reading Muir's Mountains of California and realized what gave this place its feeling of abandonment: there were no squirrels. Squirrels annoy humans because they are on to us. They know that we are frauds and posers, and are not afraid to make their opinions known. Alone among the rodents, they don't hide or run away when we appear. Instead, they announce our presence, scold us, tell us to get the heck away from their tree. They are not least bit deferential, and they will gladly swipe our granola bars and trail mix as the opportunity arises. We are just chumps to them, suckers to be sized up and shaken down.
      But squirrels are very much the animating spirits of any forest, giving it life, movement, and breath. Without squirrels, a forest is just a bunch of trees. And here they were absent. There were no middens, no chittering from above, no scurrying. The trees stood still and mute.
      The next morning was clear and fair, and I day-hiked a couple of miles to the east along McKittrick Ridge, which forms the northern rim of the sky island. From this ridge I could well appreciate the interior "bowl" of the range, almost like a crater, which gathers itself and then drains eastward down McKittrick Canyon, the only area of the park with any surface water. The ridge also affords fine views of Dog Canyon and the north-trending escarpment that leads the eye on to the Sierra Blanca, nearly 100 miles distant and considered the southernmost alpine mountain range in the US. But the view was mostly of space and emptiness: plains below, mountains on the far horizon, only air between.

      I collected my pack back at camp and proceeded north and then west, climbing up the high western rim to its sheer dropoffs. The trail here was little used and well advanced in the process of reverting to game track and bushwhack. True to its desert nature, the brush was of a thorny nature and I left a fair amount of hide behind as a blood offering to the prickly spirits of this mountain.
      The forest and brush continued lonely and nearly devoid of animal life along this ridge. A few scrub jays creaked and squawked in the junipers. A solitary red-tail hawk rode the thermals until it was a speck against the sky, then departed southward toward the Rio Grande. But no mice scurried through the oak leaves, no rabbits loped along through the brush. There was no whiff of a skunk. The occasional snow banks I passed retained no prints, and even the scarce coyote scat was desiccated and weathered, more talismans of departed wizards than leavings of hungry canines. As I worked my way up to Bush Mountain at the apex of the ridge, I felt an aloneness, like I was the last man to inspect a fallen civilization before leaving it behind forever to the mercies of wind and time.
      An Astounding View
      The peak afforded more hundred-mile views out over the vanished ocean and I began to sense a different life in this mountain, this ancient reef, built from the very bodies of its former inhabitants. It stood here through the time of trilobites. It was still standing when the dinosaurs vanished. It remained here still to be lifted up above the desert floor 30 million years ago. It has seen the appearance of the gigantic Shasta ground sloth and the sloth's inevitable disappearance after the arrival of the first humans. It has seen the Mescalero Apaches take refuge here from their Comanche enemies. It has seen ranchers drive out the Apaches only to be driven out themselves by drought and isolation. This rock has an integrity and a life of its own, a life that transcends the fleeting passage of echinoids, mollusks, reptiles, dinosaurs, mammals and most certainly, of the occasional and overly introspective bipedal primate. It is its own place and cannot be compared to any other. It is to be enjoyed on its own terms or not at all.

      I left the mountain top and continued along the ridge, making my piney campsite back near the main trail well before dusk. The campsites again were meticulously prepared and sheltered from the wind which began dying along with the light. I slept through a still night and woke again to a morning devoid of birdsong and made my way back down the long descent to Pine Springs. There I found a note taped to my car. Strider had run out of Gatorade in Rattlesnake Canyon, had backtracked to McKittrick Canyon and hitched back to obtain more electrolytes. He soon appeared and we got in the car to drive to points north of the Guadalupes to resume his hike. This sky island was no lush and welcoming oasis, but we had met it, respected it, learned from it. It would remain and we would leave.
      Need to Know
      Information
      Guadalupe Mountains National park consists of over 86,000 acres, holds the highest point in Texas (Guadalupe Peak), and has 80 miles of trails with 10 designated backcountry campsites. A first come, first serve free permit must be obtained in person to start your trip at park headquarters or at the Dog Canyon Ranger Station. There is no water in the backcountry (water is available from several frontcountry park sources), and fires are never allowed.
      Best Time to Go
      October – early May, although temperatures can dip to the teens and below in December and January. Summers are infernally hot.
      Getting There
      The Guadalupe Mountains National Park Visitor Center and Pine Springs Campground are located just off US 62/180, 110 miles east of El Paso, 56 miles west or Carlsbad, NM. El Paso is the nearest regular-service commercial airport. There are NO SERVICES between El Paso and GMNP, be sure to leave El Paso with a full tank of gas in your car. The nearest services to Pine Springs are at White's City, 30 miles east at the turnoff to Carlsbad Caverns. Water, restrooms and picnic tables are available at the campground, which has both tent and RV camping areas.
      Maps and Books
      The NPS website has quite a bit of information. The Trails Illustrated Map 203 covers the entire park and displays all of its hiking trails. A Falcon Guide that covers GMNP as well as the nearby Carlsbad Caverns is also available. For getting to and from the trailhead and exploring other destinations in the state, the Delorme Texas Atlas & Gazetteer can be useful.
      Editor's Note: This article by Drew "HappyHour" Smith originally appeared in Issue 30 of TrailGroove Magazine. You can read the original article here for additional photos and content.
    • Aaron Zagrodnick
      By Aaron Zagrodnick in TrailGroove Blog 0
      One of the least enjoyable methods of snow travel, postholing is the usually unplanned effect of your foot falling through the outer surface of the snow and sinking to the knee or farther. The result is a deep hole in the snow as if it had been dug by a posthole digger prior to placing a post in the ground. Travel in this manner is quite difficult, requiring large amounts of energy while testing a hiker’s patience.

      Postholing in deep snow makes for difficult and strenuous travel.
      More on Postholing
      One of the more interesting types of snowfields to traverse is that which has a crust to support your weight, but randomly gives way at unpredictable moments causing a surprise posthole situation. Walking delicately and avoiding snowfields before they’re warmed by the midday sun can help, but next time it may be better to just bring suitable backcountry snowshoes and / or evaluate snow conditions using a service like Snotel to plan a route out that has less snow. If you do end up postholing, a pair of snow gaiters will go a long way towards keeping snow out of your boots.
      For more on exploring the backcountry in winter, see our full winter backpacking guide.
      Editor's Note: This Jargon installment originally appeared in Issue 12 of TrailGroove Magazine. You can read the original article here.
    • Susan Dragoo
      By Susan Dragoo in TrailGroove Blog 0
      A cool, rainy weekend in early April provides the perfect backdrop for a hike on Arkansas’ Buffalo River Trail. Moist spring weather in the Ozarks means the lush hardwood and pine forest is bursting with wildflowers, ferns and all manner of growth, keeping hikers engaged in identifying each plant and marveling over the delicate and diverse shapes and intense colors. Cloudy, humid weather intensifies the deep, vernal greens enveloping the trail, and likewise accentuates the rainbow shades of countless blossoms.

      The Buffalo River Trail (BRT) runs along its namesake stream in northwest Arkansas for 62 miles in three non-contiguous segments. The Buffalo River is a “national river,” protected and managed by the National Park Service. The area is replete with hiking trails, and is also popular for canoeing and kayaking, camping, fishing, and horseback riding, it’s also known for its scenic bluffs, and its numerous waterfalls and historic sites. No matter how you choose to explore the area, any outdoor enthusiast will have a multitude of exploration opportunities to take advantage of.
      Hiking the Buffalo River Trail
      For hiking, the most popular segment of the BRT, and one that is well-used for backpacking, lies in the river’s “Upper District” and runs 36.3 miles between Boxley and Pruitt, staying mostly along the highlands south of the river. From Boxley, the trail heads north through several large campgrounds, including Steel Creek, Kyle’s Landing, Erbie, and Ozark. Backcountry campsites are also plentiful along the trail.

      It’s reasonable to backpack the BRT in a weekend, or break it up into several day hikes. I recently spent an April weekend there with my hiking buddies, who had day-hiked the segment from Boxley to Kyles Landing the previous autumn. For our spring hike, the plan was to camp at Ozark Campground, located between Erbie and Pruitt, and hike two segments, one 7.5 miles from Kyles Landing to Erbie, and one 8.7 miles from Erbie to Pruitt. This required placing cars at both ends of the trail for the first segment. Getting there, in and of itself, was an adventure. Traveling the rough dirt road to our first trailhead with all eight of us piled into one vehicle for what seemed like triple the five and a half long miles was very uncomfortable, but also quite comical and undoubtedly memorable. This approach, of course, is not recommended.
      At Ozark Campground our first night, I quickly spied my favorite wildflower of the eastern deciduous forest, the mayapple. Under its umbrella-like foliage grows a single flower which becomes the “apple” of May, although sometimes the fruit does not appear until early summer. Mayapple colonies look like a flotilla of green umbrellas hovering over the surface, and the flowers require some effort to see, usually involving lying on one’s belly for a good look.

      The Kyles Landing-to-Erbie segment started with a nearly 500-foot ascent to the top of Buzzard Bluff. Although there is some additional climbing farther down the white-blazed trail, it is neither as vertical nor as extended as this one. At least we got it out of the way. Even with recent rains, stream crossings were either dry or very shallow as we progressed along the trail.
      The dogwoods were blooming with fervor and their toothed flowers provided a lace-like framework for nearly every vista. Soon we spied the odd wood betony blooming amid the moss and reindeer lichen. With fern-like leaves and deep crimson or pale yellow swirled petals, wood betony resembles a pinwheel. And, lucky for us, the delicate wild iris, definitely a rival for my favorite, was blooming in abundance. Near the 2.5-mile mark, we came across a spur to the 48-foot Twin Falls, also known as Triple Falls, definitely worth the short side trip. Although there are three cascades, it is called Twin Falls for the two water sources that feed the falls from above, one a creek and the other a spring. Back on the main trail, we spied the wake robin, a form of trillium, its dark maroon bud peeking out from enfolding green arms. And soon appeared the shooting star, looking like a pure white columbine.

      Ferns and wild phlox encroached upon the muddy trail, creating a look of enchantment beneath the moss-covered bluffs. As we crossed Sawmill Hollow Creek, an old stone highway bridge appeared, looking charming but completely out of place in the natural setting. Over slippery small cascades and through deadfall we continued, ending with a walk through the historic Parker-Hickman Farmstead, with a log house built in the 1840s, before ending the day at Erbie Campground.
      The Last Day and Reflections on the Buffalo River Trail
      Our second day, the Erbie-to-Pruitt leg of the hike required us to add a few extra miles at the end. Automobile access to Pruitt Landing was closed because of road construction, so our plan was to hike from Erbie through our camp site at Ozark Campground, to Pruitt, and then return the 2.5 miles to base camp. The scenery was much the same, walking along a wooded hillside through lush foliage. The trail wound around a wildlife pond, its still waters reflecting the graceful limbs of the surrounding dogwood trees, filled with blossoms. As we approached Pruitt, our view of the river opened up, the turquoise water and a black-streaked bluff accented by two red canoes. After a brief respite at the Pruitt picnic area, we returned to Ozark.

      While our spring hike offered a highly sensory hiking experience on the BRT, autumn is its rival, with the bright foliage of the hardwoods and a crispness in the air, versus the humid atmosphere of the vernal months. No matter when you choose to hike the BRT, the trail offers a unique experience with a little history along the way. And after hiking its forested trails, crossing its cascading waters, and gazing from its rocky bluffs, the Buffalo River Trail leaves a hiker with a certain sense of quiet and solitude that it seems only the hills and hollows of the Ozarks can offer.
      Need to Know
      Information
      The BRT’s two other sections are Dillard’s Ferry to South Maumee, an 11.4-mile trail in the Buffalo’s Lower Disrict, and the Woolum to Tyler Bend section, which starts at Woolum and runs just over 11 miles in the Middle District. Woolum is also the end point of the 165-mile Ozark Highlands Trail, a trail that can be thru-hiked starting at Lake Fort Smith.
      Another less-known trail often intersects with the BRT but provides a different perspective. The BRT mostly takes a high route along the bluffs but the Old River Trail (ORT) follows a historic farm road along the river for 13.2 miles, crosses the river multiple times, and passes through numerous old farmsteads. It is open to equestrian users as well, running from Ponca to a horse camp at Old Erbie. Abundant camping is available throughout the Buffalo National River area. Lodging is also available in and near Jasper and Ponca, as are canoeing outfitters and shuttle services.
      Best Time to Go
      Spring and fall are the best times to hike the BRT, as mentioned above. Mild winter days also offer excellent hiking opportunities. Summers are hot and humid in the Ozarks and thus less comfortable for hiking. Warm weather considerations in the area include poison ivy and ticks.
      Getting There
      From Interstate 40, take Exit 81 and travel about 70 miles to Pruitt, Arkansas. Ozark Campground is located on County Road 129.
      Books and Maps
      More information is available in Tim Ernst’s guidebook, Buffalo River Hiking Trails. You can find a National Park Service map here, and National Geographic offers their Trails Illustrated Buffalo River maps. For getting to and from trailheads and exploring other hikes in the state, the Arkansas Delorme Atlas & Gazetteer can be useful.
      For more reading on the Buffalo River Trail, see Backpacking the Buffalo River Trail: Great Heights.
      Editor's Note: This article originally appeared in Issue 51 of TrailGroove Magazine. You can read the original article here for additional photos and content.



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