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On any hiking or backpacking trip, the ability to procure drinking water during the hike is one of the most important logistical considerations for both pre-trip planning as well as while we’re on the trail. Finding the water is of course the first step, and having the necessary gear to properly process the water so it’s suitable to drink is the second part of the equation.
Here we’ll look at the main types of water filters and backcountry water treatment methods that are best suited for backpacking and hiking, and elaborate on the necessary reading between the lines that needs to be done when choosing the best backpacking water filters or treatment options for backcountry use.

An assortment of various types of backcountry water treatment options
Backpacking & Hiking Water Treatment: What We Need to Treat & Filter
Microorganisms and Biological Concerns
While protozoan concerns such as giardia and cryptosporidium get the most publicity, concerns are best looked at in a categorical fashion. Starting with biological contaminants from smallest to largest, viruses (example: hepatitis, rotavirus, often smaller than .1 micron) are notoriously difficult to filter as they can slip through most common filter’s pore size.
Luckily, viruses are mostly a concern where there are many other people – for example where you might find untreated sewage. However, it’s always important to remember the source of the water you’re filtering. Bacteria (example: E.Coli, Salmonella, average size greater than .3 microns) are a more common concern in the wilderness as they are spread by both humans and wildlife, but luckily they are larger than viruses and more easily captured by most common filters.
Protozoa are a bit larger and include cryptosporidium and giardia, and a filter that will filter to 1 micron or smaller is recommended for removal. Concerns that are larger still include tapeworm eggs and unsightly, but not necessarily dangerous, critters of various types in your water such as insect larvae. On many occasions I’ve scooped water from crystal clear mountain streams and upon close inspection, have been quite surprised at what that scoop reveals to the eye – from sticks and stones to tadpoles and worms of various types – not to mention what you can’t see. I prefer to get my calories from my food bag while backpacking, and luckily these larger organisms are of course, very easily filtered.

Water sources will vary in purity, but various types of backcountry water treatment and filtration methods are available and can be utilized. Each method offers pros and cons, and I often prefer to use methods / technologies in combination depending on the trip.
Other Treatment Considerations
Many other components can make up the water you’re drinking in the backcountry as well. Chemicals, pesticides and herbicides, heavy metals, tannins, silt, taste and odor, as well as natural particulates of various types will need to be considered. Some of these concerns will only affect smell and taste, others could affect your health. Visible suspended matter is removed by most filters, but tannins and taste / smell can pass through – in my experience even drinking tea colored water however, has been fine.
If your water source is downstream of an area that has seen prior or active agricultural or mining use for example, chemicals and other various components introduced by man could be in the water source, especially as you move further downstream in the water supply chain. To reduce these types of contaminants and concerns we can utilize a purifier or filter that contains a carbon stage, or add a carbon element or step to an existing setup to assist in reducing many of these possible impurities.
Physical Water Filters and Purifiers
Most water treatment products designed for backcountry use that are reasonably lightweight, will not address all of the above concerns in one fell swoop. Thus, we need to evaluate our backpacking and hiking destinations, as well as our own personal comfort level to find the best compromise. For backpacking in the mountainous wilderness areas of the United States for example, the general consensus is that viruses are usually not of a great concern, and many times our water sources are fairly pure from man-made pollution as we’re getting it close to the source.
In these cases bacteria and protozoa are usually the main concerns. Other backcountry trips may find us filtering water on the banks of a river far from the source, that has passed through many towns before we consume it, perhaps on foreign soil, and the full gamut of contaminants are more of a possibility.
Water filters do just what they say; they filter the water to a certain micron level to remove bacteria and protozoa. Water purification by definition, including options like the First Need XLE will take this all a step further by also removing viruses, though not all products that are officially listed as purifiers will remove or reduce chemicals, heavy metals, tannins, debris, etc. – your water may be purified by marketing general standards, but it will not necessarily be “pure”.

A classic pump filter works well for pulling water out of hard to reach and shallow sources.
Popular water filters for backcountry water treatment should filter to an absolute pore size of .3 microns or smaller for adequate removal of bacteria, protozoa, and all things larger. Note the absolute part of the pore size equation, as filters listed with a “nominal” pore size will only on average filter to that level. Absolute is a guarantee, and is the number we’re actually interested in.
If you prefer viral protection, you will need an option with a much smaller absolute pore size; as a result flow rate will likely suffer and these types of purifiers are rare. Alternatively some filters combine with other technology to treat the virus part using an iodine or ion exchange process. Backpacking water purifiers that remove viruses physically are rare but can be found in the MSR Guardian pump purifier. Other options combine a normal filter with a cartridge that contains an iodinated resin for added virus protection, while the Grayl purifier uses an ion exchange process to achieve this goal.
Types of Backpacking & Hiking Water Filters
Physical filtration can be achieved utilizing various types of elements and technologies. The most popular lightweight water filter technology today, hollow fiber filters work by passing water through a multitude of small tubes; tubes that are perforated by many, many, pores so small (rated to the micron) that anything larger than this pore size cannot pass through, trapping any living organisms or non-living matter larger than the pore size. Hollow fiber filters are popular for their light weight and versatility – you can pretty much find one in any filter configuration you prefer – be that as a gravity filter, inline filter, or pump.
Hollow Fiber Filtration
Hollow fiber filters can usually be backflushed to help restore flow rate, and flow rate will vary depending on pore size, surface area, and use. The most popular hollow fiber filters are in the .1 to .2 micron range making them sufficient for bacteria and protozoa, and this micron level is usually a good balance of protection, sufficient flow rate, and lifespan. Smaller micron, virus-rated filters also exist in this category as seen with the aforementioned MSR Guardian purifier, but flow rate will be slower due to the smaller pore size.

Gravity filters, an example shown here using hollow fiber filter technology, use the force of gravity to move water through the filter.
Hollow fiber filters cannot be allowed to freeze when wet (the MSR Guardian is an exception) or after they've been used, so on trips where it will freeze at night you’ll need to sleep with the filter in your sleeping bag or carry it in your pocket any time temperatures begin to flirt with freezing during the day – this goes for nearly all other filters using different types of elements as well.
In addition to freezing, physical filters also need to be treated with some care in regards to drops and impacts, which could damage the element. Some hollow fiber filters like the Platypus GravityWorks (read our full GravityWorks review here), and the Katadyn BeFree have manufacturer supported integrity tests which are very helpful for a little peace of mind – unlike other gear, you can’t really tell if a filter is working properly or not, without this test.
Ceramic Media
Other types of physical filter media will use a ceramic element like the MSR EX filter, and the Katadyn Pocket Filter, or utilize a glass fiber element like the venerable Katadyn Hiker Pro. Ceramic filters have the ability to be repeatedly field cleaned. Some filters are entirely self-contained and will need to be thrown away when their flow rate diminishes too much to be of practical use, while others setups will have a replaceable cartridge that fits into a housing.
Approaches to Filtering in the Field
No matter what filter technology you end up going with, physical filters are most often utilized in an inline, gravity, squeeze, or pump configuration. The traditional pump water filter requires you to pump the water through the filter element via a hose in the water source, and is a proven setup at both getting you water and providing an ample upper body workout.
Pump filters have moving parts and increase the complication and weight, but these are also great for pulling water out of hard to reach places. The other methods will require you to fill some type of reservoir with dirty water first, by either submerging the dirty water container or bag in the water source or, if it’s one of those shallow or small sources you occasionally may need to use a separate vessel to fill the dirty container, like a mug (boil later to sterilize).

An inline water filter connected to a hydration setup treats water as you drink.
Gravity setups like the Platypus GravityWorks and the Katadyn Gravity BeFree let gravity do the work for you, by filling a dirty reservoir with water and by elevating, hanging from a tree branch or rock if possible, water passes through the filter element into a clean container. Inline setups such as the MSR Thru-Link splice into the tubing of your hydration reservoir and your own drinking force filters the water with each sip, while with squeeze setups like the Sawyer Squeeze, you can utilize a combination of gravity and squeezing force to move the dirty water through the filter and the filtered water into a clean vessel or drink directly.
Other options integrate the filter into a water bottle (LifeStraw Go Series) or softbottle (BeFree), where much in the same manner as an inline filter with a hydration reservoir, your drinking or a combination of drinking and squeezing is what filters the water as you go. Straw type options like the Lifestraw Peak (view at REI) are also another strategy, treating water by directly inserting one end into a water source and drinking from the other side of the straw. A straw filter is limited in that you cannot process larger volumes of water and each sip takes more work, and straw filters are perhaps best reserved more for emergency usage.
In whatever case, seek out the cleanest water possible to prolong the life of your filter and for the best flow rate. While many filters can be backflushed or cleaned, this is usually a losing battle over time. Although filters are rated by the gallon or liter in regards to their lifespan, and while it’s a great idea to evaluate this when choosing a filter, take this number with a grain of salt. Clean water is important for other treatment methods as well; in very turbid situations it’s a good idea to allow water to settle in a separate container (in for example, a Sea to Summit Bucket), then treat from the top. Luckily, this is more of the exception than the norm for most of us.
Backcountry UV Water Treatment
Ultraviolet treatment options like those offered by Steripen, come in various forms using either normal or rechargeable batteries, and utilize, as with many municipalities, UV light from a special lamp that’s inserted into your water container to neutralize many microorganisms by disrupting their DNA. This process usually takes about a minute and you’ll most likely be treating a liter of water or so at a time. Some other UV bottles have come (and gone) to / from the market that feature an integrated lamp, and yet others have been designed to float from the surface of your water vessel.

UV water treatment uses battery powered ultraviolet light that's inserted in a container to treat many microorganisms.
On the plus side, these UV treatment options are quite effective at neutralizing the things that physical filters have the toughest time with – viruses – and the technology is proven. However, many are not comfortable relying on an electronic and potentially fragile instrument for their main or only wilderness water treatment source.
Additionally, UV light on its own is not sufficient for neutralizing all living organisms that could be present in your water – tapeworm eggs for example, or larger organisms and larvae that may or may not do any harm but may not necessarily be what you want to ingest, nor will a UV product remove anything from the water or improve its composition. If the water is dirty, you’ll be drinking dirty water.
Steripen offers a filter with a 40x40 micron mesh screen that can help here, which is intended to reduce organic matter or particulates. Performance may also be insufficient in murky water, requiring pre-filtration. All said, this is an excellent technology as long as you’re aware of the limitations; I utilize a Steripen Adventurer Opti as a secondary treatment with a hollow fiber filter on any trip where I desire viral treatment.
Chemical Water Treatment
Chemical treatment usually utilizing chlorine dioxide (Aquamira) or Iodine (Potable Aqua) and on occasion some other chemicals like household bleach or other chemicals that produce chlorine, like Aquatabs can be effective, but like anything this category has its share of pros and cons. In contrast to physical filters and like UV treatment, chemicals are again effective against viruses, but often take longer (hours) to work on such concerns as cryptosporidium (4 hours) and these products will add a taste to your water; other products are not suitable for cryptosporidium whatsoever. Advocates for chemical treatments praise the ease of just adding the treatment right into their water bottles and allowing the treatment to take place as they hike.
To be honest, most of my thought goes into making sure my drinking water source is either free of any chemicals or how to reduce or remove them should there be any chance of them being present, so chemical treatment is a bit counter-productive from my point of view, and options like iodine are not an option for pregnant women or those with any type of a thyroid issue. Iodine and chlorine (i.e. bleach) on their own, are not effective against cryptosporidium.
However, this method is lightweight and over the years has been popular with ultralight backpackers, though decreasing in recent years with the increased availability of very light hollow fiber filters like the Sawyer Mini. In this category, other devices have seen the market over the years that create a solution with salt to create an oxidant solution that you subsequently dissolve in water; but as with other chemical treatments, with a 4 hour wait time these are not the quickest of options.
An example can be found in the discontinued MSR MIOX. These devices seem to come and go from the market. Chemical treatment may also be integrated with some filters to move them into the purifier category. As with boiling, chemical treatment can be a good backup to bring as well or to utilize in conjunction with other methods.

Hundreds of miles from the source, I took extra steps in my treatment process at this backcountry location.
Boiling
Boiling water is an excellent way to neutralize microorganisms that might be present, but it takes a while, requires a lot of fuel, and let’s be honest, on a hot summer day, who wants to drink steaming hot water when we could be drinking that crisp and cold water from a mountain stream? As such, boiling can be tough to utilize as a main water treatment method on most 3 season backpacking trips, but it’s an excellent method to keep in mind as a backup method should your filter or other method fail you.
In winter however, melting snow for water may be your best and only option. Be sure to bring a big pot (my Evernew 1.3 works well solo) and a stove that will work well during continued usage in cold conditions like the MSR WindPro II – read our WindPro II review here. Opinions on how long to boil water vary widely; the CDC suggests bringing water to a rolling boil for 1 minute, or for 3 full minutes at altitudes above 6562 feet (be sure to check that 2 on the end of your altimeter!). Data suggests however that pathogens are neutralized at lower temperatures; in the end it depends on heat and time but luckily, both are achieved by bringing your water to a boil and after removal from heat.
Carbon Filtration
As we’ve seen, the technologies used above are all mainly designed to thwart microorganisms. If improving the taste and smell of your water, or if any agricultural and / or industrial contamination is a concern, look for a system that integrates filtration technology combined with a carbon stage that will improve and / or reduce, but not necessarily eliminate, these concerns.

If desired, a carbon element can be integrated into an existing system using a modular approach to filter water further.
This will increase the weight of your system, and possibly the cost of replacement elements, etc., but there is of course no free lunch. The Grayl UltraPress and Katadyn Hiker Pro are all examples of filters with integrated carbon filtration – or if you’re like me and have settled on a treatment method that does not address this concern, but you may occasionally head out on a trip where some of these concerns would be nice to cover, you can always splice in an add-on carbon element (I use an add on GravityWorks Carbon Element) for this purpose when needed.
My Approach to Backcountry Water Treatment
For a complicated issue, there are unfortunately no one size fits all solutions and in the end, when we’re concerned about not carrying extra weight, it all comes down to a compromise and what each one of us is most interested in removing from our water. Luckily there are many lightweight and effective options out there to choose from. For general backpacking we should expect to find an option that will treat what we’re concerned with for around a pound or less. About half a pound is usually doable, and lighter options of just a few ounces are very realistic to target. The best backpacking water filter or water treatment method very much depends on the task at hand.

Most of my trips are very well served by standard hollow fiber filtration technology; as with all of us most likely, my preference is to backpack into areas where the water is already fairly good. As such I’m not usually concerned about viruses or pollution, (both a Steripen and carbon filter have a spot in the gear room for such destinations to use in conjunction with a hollow fiber filter), and I like to target the removal of bacteria, protozoa, and the removal of larger critters no matter their parasitical intent or lack thereof.
The hollow fiber filter also has that added benefit of giving your water a good scrub; removing particulate matter. I really like a filter that has a manufacturer supported integrity test as well, so it essentially comes down to the cartridge for me. The Platypus GravityWorks cartridge fits all of the above criteria, and it just so happens the whole setup it comes with works well and is pretty darn convenient to use both on the trail as well as in camp.
For a complete list of backcountry-ready, tried and tested backpacking water filters and treatment methods that you can sort and filter by all the main points we’ve discussed in this post, check out this page at REI.

Canyons are compelling for reasons I rarely consider on a conscious level. Like no other terrain they attract me with an intrigue born of curiosity and an underlying sense of danger. The potential for flash floods, snakebite, falls, and losing my way brings an edge to the experience of walking a path between walls of stone, not knowing what’s around the next bend – this is the essence of a canyon. Slot canyons compound the appeal – their narrow, sinuous heights enclose me as I probe their depths, not satisfied until I’m forced to turn around by an impassable wall, a pool of water too deep for wading, or the limits of time.

Sunrise in Bryce Canyon
It would be safe to say I’m captured by canyon hunger, and what better place to feed that appetite than the Colorado Plateau of the United States? Within its 130,000 square miles the Colorado River and its tributaries have carved a spectacular topography, and canyons are its key feature. I hike in the area whenever possible and recently spent three days exploring canyons in southern Utah, basing my adventure out of Kanab, located in southwest Utah near the Arizona border.
It was late September – a good time to visit the area, with the temperatures cooling down but still pleasant. I met my hiking and photography buddy Theresa Daterman in Kanab, and we began by trying to get a permit to visit The Wave, that iconic sandstone formation of swirling strata in the Coyote Buttes region of the Paria River Canyon.

Many areas of southern Utah still show signs of past inhabitation from long ago.
Permits for The Wave are limited to 20 per day and 10 are awarded by lottery on site. We went to the BLM field office in Kanab first thing in the morning and joined the throng of about 75 tanned, fit people clad in North Face and Patagonia, in a small room for the drawing of names. We were not among the winners but I found the experience more exhilarating than disappointing. It was one of those things you read about on your computer back home and wonder how it works. Now I know.
Exploring Red Canyon & Peekaboo Slot Canyon
The possibility of The Wave taken off the agenda, Theresa and I checked with the BLM office in Kanab for current conditions and checked the weather forecast for precipitation, as there is a possibility of flash floods when hiking in canyons. Then, we headed out of town toward Red Canyon, known locally as Peekaboo Canyon and not to be confused with the more famous Red Canyon several miles north on Highway 89, nor with Peekaboo Gulch, which is in the Escalante area.
I have no interest in sharing a slot canyon with a crowd and a guide, nor in being constrained by a narrow, controlled window for photography (i.e. Antelope Canyon, not to name any names), when there are plenty of slots I can have practically all to myself. Peekaboo Canyon is one of them. The parking lot is a few miles north of Kanab on Highway 89 and from the car – if you don’t have a four-wheel drive vehicle – it’s a 2.8-mile trudge on a sandy road or across country to get to the mouth of the canyon.
When we arrived at the parking area, Theresa spotted a fellow unloading a RAZR side-by-side all-terrain vehicle and asked him for a ride to the slot canyon’s mouth. He quickly agreed but said he had to wait for his two buddies. I didn’t want to stand there in the cold waiting for everyone to show up, so I suggested that Theresa and I go ahead and start walking. We would hitch a ride when the other drivers arrived and started down the road. After about a mile walking in the sand, the group came along. Theresa jumped in one vehicle and I in another, and we zoomed off for a brisk ride on the twisting trails and were delivered, delighted, to the mouth of the canyon.

Southern Utah slot canyon views
There were only a couple of other people in sight as we began our hike, cameras ready, and we found the reward well worth the effort. Peekaboo offers about a half mile of colorful narrows, and we lingered each time we found a good angle for photos, moving through the slot in no hurry. Following advice from one of the all-terrain vehicle drivers, we continued on through a short open passage after the first narrows, finding another, longer, slot. We finally reached the end at a chokepoint and turned around, shooting photos on the outbound trip as well.
As we left the canyon and walked along the wash, we chatted with a Frenchwoman we had seen in the canyon. She and her husband had driven in on the sandy road in a rental Chevrolet with all-wheel drive and offered us a ride back to the parking lot. We took them up on the offer, but before we knew it, we were stuck in the sand and trying to help extricate the car. Our efforts were fruitless and the car became stuck worse, high-centered in the soft, deep sand. Eventually an SUV came along with a local tour guide and a small group he’d taken to the slot. Soon all of us were digging out the French couple’s car, the guide had aired down their tires, and we’d dragged branches over and laid them in the hole for traction. With the whole group pushing, the guide backed the car out of the hole then drove it safely through the sand trap.
After this, Theresa and I felt strangely obliged to continue the trip with the French couple, so we jumped back in the car, against our better judgment. The husband, Jean-Claude, appeared to have learned nothing from the stuck experience and wanted to slow down each time we approached a patch of deep sand rather than maintaining the momentum necessary to make it through. At these moments, we joined his wife yelling, “Allez, Jean-Claude, allez!!” There were shouts for joy, sighs of relief, and pats on the back for Jean-Claude when we arrived back at our car, but the Frenchman was mostly worried about getting some air back into the tires of his rental car.

Bryce Canyon contains the world’s largest collection of hoodoos.
Bryce Canyon National Park
The next morning, Theresa and I left Kanab in the dark to drive the 77 miles to Bryce Canyon National Park for the sunrise. This would be the most ON the beaten path thing we would do. It was very cold at the rim of the canyon before sunrise, and our frigid wait was rewarded when the sun crested the canyon rim and transformed the basin of sandstone into translucent spires of alabaster.
After photographing the sunrise with the rest of the crowds, we warmed ourselves with breakfast in the park lodge, then hiked down into the amphitheater. We descended near Sunset Point on the Navajo Loop Trail and connected below with the Queens Garden Trail, which we ascended to Sunrise Point. As the day wore on, the hiking hordes grew larger and the trails so congested the place resembled a busy ant colony. Despite the crowds, Bryce offers a unique and breathtaking landscape worth the trouble.

The 130-foot high Escalante Natural Bridge is actually an arch – created by erosion, not water.
Hiking the Escalante River Trail
That afternoon we drove to the town of Escalante and east from there on Highway 12 to hike a short length of the Escalante River trail. It’s a beautiful path, shaded by cottonwood trees along the water and fragrant with sagebrush on the sandy flats. The trail is characterized by multiple crossings of the shallow river and bordered by striking red cliffs. The area had recently had rain, and hikers we met told us the trail had been obliterated ahead and that we wouldn’t be able to make it through. But our boots were wet anyway, and we simply continued along the river and had no difficulty finding our way around alcoves and through mud.
The first attraction on this hike is the 130-foot high Escalante Natural Bridge. It’s actually an arch – created by erosion, not water – on the south side of the canyon. Just beyond we found a rock art panel at ground level and an Anasazi ruin in the cliff about 50 feet above the river. This was our turnaround point, the afternoon becoming late.
Buckskin Gulch
Our third and last day of hiking we headed for Buckskin Gulch, the longest slot canyon in the Southwest and perhaps the world, 14 miles in length, and narrow for 12 of those. The gulch is a tributary of the Paria River and located in Vermilion Cliffs National Monument. And, it shares a trailhead with The Wave – the Wire Pass trailhead, 8.5 miles south of Highway 89. Although there are three trailheads for Buckskin Gulch, Wire Pass offers the easiest and quickest access to the deeper, more scenic parts of the canyon.

Vermilion Cliffs
There was no one else in sight when we arrived at the parking area. We crossed the dirt road and walked into the wash leading to Wire Pass canyon, a small slot that provides access to Buckskin Gulch. Along the way, the turn-off for The Wave is visible on the right hand side of the trail.
Once into the Wire Pass slot, we were quickly turned back by a long drop we found impassable, having no ropes. As we returned from the narrows, Theresa spotted an arrow made of white rocks which pointed up over the red sandstone dome at the canyon mouth, toward Buckskin Gulch. We followed the directional sign, climbing up the dome and back down a sketchy, steep trail that bypassed the drop-off in Wire Pass and soon opened into a huge alcove at the junction with Buckskin.

Hiking Buckskin Gulch
In my two previous trips to Buckskin Gulch, I had always taken the right hand – or southeast – turn at the junction, but this time we decided to explore to the left. We found it drier and wider, an easier passage but not as interesting. Turning back, we entered the southeasterly passage and were quickly wading knee deep in cold, muddy water. It was slow going but fascinating picking our way through the rocks and pools between the high, dark walls of the gulch. Thirteen and a half miles from the Wire Pass junction, the gulch meets the Paria River, but we turned back long before that, limited that day by time. On our way out, we decided to venture into Wire Pass as far as the blockage to take photos. There we met people coming into the canyon and thanks to some strong arms and backs, we were pulled up over the drop and made our way back to the parking area.
Hiking Four Canyons in Three Days
Each canyon has a different appeal: Peekaboo its colorful, uncrowded narrows; Bryce its otherworldly spires; Escalante its combination of water, stone and sagebrush; and Buckskin its grandeur. Four canyons in three days – my canyon hunger was temporarily satisfied, and I left early the next morning for home. But the truth is, on the flight home I was already planning my next canyon adventure. It’s hard to stop.

Theresa wades the shallow Escalante River.
Hiking in Southern Utah: Need to Know
Information
Bryce Canyon National Park requires a $35 entry fee per private vehicle; the permit is good for seven days. For Buckskin Gulch, a day use permit is $6 per person (pay online or at trailhead). No permit is required for Red Canyon/Peekaboo Canyon or the Escalante River Trail. For an after hike meal, we enjoyed and can recommend the Rocking V Cafe in Kanab, Escalante Outfitters in Escalante, and Cliff Dwellers Restaurant in Marble Canyon, AZ. Details for Bryce Canyon are located on the NPS web site, and for more on Buckskin, see the article Hiking Buckskin Gulch on the TrailGroove Blog.
Best Time to Go
Typically the best hiking times are found in spring and fall. It can be significantly cooler within canyons and is often wet as well, so appropriate planning is needed.
Getting There
I flew into Las Vegas, Nevada, rented a car, and drove to Kanab, a trip of 207 miles in about 3 and a half hours. Salt Lake City, the next closest major airport, is a distance of 317 miles.
Maps and Books
The Trails Illustrated 859 Map from National Geographic covers the Paria Canyon, Kanab [Vermillion Cliffs National Monument, Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument] areas and the Trails Illustrated 219 Map covers Bryce Canyon National Park.
Many popular guidebooks are available including Hiking Utah: A Guide to Utah's Greatest Hiking Adventures.
To plan your trip to and from trailheads and all around the area, check out the Delorme Atlas & Gazetteer Utah.
Editor's Note: This article originally appeared in Issue 34 of TrailGroove Magazine. You can read the original article here for additional photos and content.

Stay fueled. Here are some versatile items that we like to always have in our food bag to add extra calories, flavors, and variety to backcountry meals. The possibilities are endless, but by carrying these ingredients you can take any off-the-shelf backpacking meal to the next level or add calories and taste to your own creations.
Dehydrated or Freeze-Dried Vegetables
A great way to add flavor and variety to your meals, as well as have a few servings of veggies during the day or with dinner. So many options...carrots, spinach, tomatoes, mushrooms, you get the idea! Harmony House is one company that offers a wide array of dehydrated and freeze-dried vegetables that are great to have in the backpacking pantry.

When it comes to dehydrated vegetables, you can take a wide variety of individual options, go for a mix, or dehydrate your own.
Olive Oil Packets for Backpacking
An easy way to add calories to any meal. Using olive oil packets is a lightweight & clean way to carry oil into the backcountry to avoid leaking or spilling (unless they are crushed and burst). Not a bad idea to pack these in a backup Ziploc or two as well.
Instant Mashed Potatoes
So many variations can be made with instant potatoes...for breakfast (add eggs, ham, etc.) or dinner (cheese, meat, veggies, etc). You may want to bring powdered milk and / or powdered butter for creamy potatoes.
Peanut Butter
Yes, it’s a little heavy, but it is packed with calories. You can pair this with small jelly containers from your favorite breakfast joint and serve on bread or tortillas or squeeze bottles for longer trips. Eat on its own or add to Asian-style dinners.
Chicken Packets (or Tuna)
Protein – add to a rice or pasta dish for dinner; add mayo packets & seasonings for chicken salad to serve on bread, bagels, or tortillas. But if you're looking to go for the best backpacking option in this regard, freeze-dried chicken is a pricier alternative but lighter in weight and typically tastes better as well.
Potato Chips
Maybe not the healthiest choice, but this snack food can add flavor, calories and a crunch to many dishes. We sometimes use crushed cheddar & sour cream chips to add extra flavor to freeze-dried meals – It’s like dehydrated potatoes and flavoring all in one.

Chips are lightweight, have plenty of calories, and can add both crunch as well as flavor to meals.
Tortillas
You can make a wrap out of nearly anything. Add extra calories to breakfast scrambles or freeze-dried meals. For lunches or snacks, you can use this to hold chicken salad or peanut butter & jelly (see above).
Cheese
Wax-sealed cheese rounds keep well on the trail and are great by themselves or added to lunches. Where they really shine is when melted into dinners or breakfast - melted cheese just makes everything better.
Chocolate
Maybe not the most versatile ingredient, but as a dessert a simple chocolate bar may be the best way to end the day on a good note. Dark chocolate bars keep well, are easy, and if it’s calories you’re looking for, no worries here.
Editor's Note: This installment of Backcountry Cuisine originally appeared in Issue 9 of TrailGroove Magazine. You can read the original article here.

I’m no stranger to a new challenge. Two years ago, after two decades as a carpenter and building contractor, I took a chance and changed my life. Though sawdust runs in my veins and I’ve always imagined myself as a builder to the end, the only other profession I thought I might like is teaching. In October 2019 that notion became reality when I became an instructor in the Building Construction Technology Program at a local Community College. That’s when the challenge began.
The idea of teaching inspired me on many levels: training the next generation of builders, being part of a learning and teaching community, and, I won’t deny it, a steady paycheck (with benefits!). But above all, and for the first time in my adult life, I’d have the summers off. Then two things happened – one good, one bad. First, a global pandemic – the bad. Then, a promotion to Department Chair – the good. Both new challenges, both pulling me out of my comfort zone, both impacting the first magical summer off I'd dreamed of.

Summer of 2020. Homebound. Home improvements. Summer hints at fall. One of my three sons, Milo, also about to head back to college and thoroughly sick of going-nowhere-doing-nothing pulled a promise out of me: Next summer, Papa, we’re going backpacking, and we’re going big.
I’d be lying if I said we spent the next year planning our epic adventure. It wasn’t until spring break, when my wife caught wind of our scheme, that the planning really began, because, you see, she saw this as an opportunity – to get rid of me, her firstborn, and her testosterone-addled identical teen twins for some well-deserved peace. Katahdin, Milo said, I want to climb Katahdin.
Maine’s crown jewel, Katahdin is also the northern end of the 2,193-mile Appalachian Trail (AT). It stands a mile high and is enshrined by the pristine wilderness of Baxter State Park. And the approach to Baxter, the final section north-bound thru-hikers on the AT traverse, is the 100-Mile Wilderness. That would be our adventure, our challenge.
You’d think we’d be daunted, one forty-something man and his three teenage sons. But five years ago, as a family we thru-hiked the 500-mile Colorado Trail through the Rocky Mountains – 45 days straight. One hundred miles in our backyard could not possibly be any more difficult.
A Hike through Maine's 100-Mile Wilderness Begins
We collected our gear, I dropped half a paycheck on trail food, and we stuffed our packs for a ten-day adventure. First week in August, my Dad dropped us off at the trailhead in Monson where the AT crosses Maine Route 15, the last paved road we would see for 100 miles. He snapped a photo of us, beaming with ambition, then drove off. Nothing to do now but walk. Trees grow like weeds in Maine, and it took only a moment to be swallowed up into the lush, dense mixed-deciduous forest. All the noise of civilization, the stench of society, and even the pandemic faded away with each step. We were free.
The first day rolled by, the sun dried the previous day’s rain from the leaves, mushrooms and lichen grew on every surface, colorful exceptions to the green world we hiked through. Several hours and six and a half miles later our first trailside attraction halted our march – 60 cascading feet of water, Little Wilson Falls. Lunching with my bare feet in the stream, I watched the boys plunge into the pool at the base of the falls. Recharged and refreshed, we felt we were good for a ten or twelve-mile day, half-way there.

Unlike the Colorado Trail, the AT has lean-to shelters conveniently located every five miles or so. But given the popularity of the trail, securing a spot in shelter is never a guarantee. After consulting a map, we targeted the Long Pond Stream lean-to. The afternoon’s hike was punctuated by a break in the canopy at Big Wilson Cliffs. Our first view, a carpet of leaves, a hazy sky. We didn’t get a lean-to that night – ultimately would only get three nights out of ten with a roof over our heads the whole trip.
Hiking the 100-Mile Wilderness from south to north is the hard way. We were doing it the hard way. After day one, the Barren-Chairback Range rises and drops 750 feet at a time as it blazes over the peaks of Barren (2650’), Fourth (2,383’), Third (2,090’), Columbus (2,350’), and Chairback (2,190’) Mountains.
I had basically had an office job for the past year and a half, so peak physical condition was something I only saw on Netflix, certainly not in the mirror. I quickly realized keeping pace with three strapping lads would be a challenge. Glad I had poles. On the uphills I pulled up the proverbial rear, red, panting, and dripping. But descending, I managed to keep up with the bounding youths – straight down, jumping from rock to rock. This I would later regret.

Following the Barren-Chairbacks we crossed the West Branch of the Pleasant River and entered the mythical Hermitage, an old-growth pine forest with trees five feet in diameter. The Hermitage gives way to Gulf Hagas – the Grand Canyon of the East. The chiseled-slate canyon, carved by the Pleasant River, is an unending string of pools and waterfalls with cliffs steep enough to warrant respect. We didn’t have the time or energy for the eight-mile loop.
Another scramble of peaks – Gulf Hagas (2,690’), West Peak (3,178), Hay Mountain (3,250’), and White Cap (3,654’), where we got our first distant view of Katahdin, still so far away. How could such a massive mountain appear so small?
The Miles Begin to Take a Toll
On the trail pain sneaks up on you. You can’t point to a single injury-incident. It’s the repeated and cumulative effect of the joint-pounding downhills. As long as you keep hiking, ignore the pain, focus on the next step, you can keep going. But once you stop, the pain rises to the surface. Halfway through the trip, I started waking to a slightly broken body. Lame. Ibuprofen helped. Of course, the boys fared better than I. Oh, to be young again.

Coupled with the pain, something else creeped up on us – the funk. Dirty, sweaty, smelly clothes, shoes, and bodies. The only solution was swimming. The 100-Mile Wilderness is riddled with ponds and lakes, some small enough to skip a stone across and some so large they have surf. My favorite was Lower Jo-Mary Lake.
We got into Antlers Campsite on Jo-Mary before any other hikers and set up camp in a prime spot at the end of a peninsula dotted with wind-blown pine. We swam, washed clothes, and waited for sunset. The wind continued through the night, howling through the trees above our tent.
Hiking Closer to Katahdin
The next day and our last mountain before Baxter – Little Boardman (2,017’). At the peak, Katahdin appeared bigger, closer. We could do this. Bolstering our optimism, the map showed the next 30 miles were basically flat, a rolling plane of monster trees parading through the Katahdin Forest and Nahmakanta Public Lands. I read somewhere that when the first European settlers landed in North America the forest scared them. It was dark, towering, foreboding. The trees were the legs of giants, standing at a scale greater than the world they knew. Their only defense was to chop them down. Most of Maine’s forests have been cut to the ground at least four times. But these tracts of land we hiked over have not been mowed down, many of the trees have stood for over a century, linking arms, proud, safe.

A night of rain gave way to overcast and drizzle in the morning. It was our last 14 miles of the wilderness. Pushing your body to its physical limit causes calorie-deprivation. The brain’s natural reaction – fixate on food. Imagine what you could be eating instead of trail mix and jerky. Make up new food. Compose menus. Stomach grumble – eggs, sausage, bacon, fresh fruit, pizza…
Struggling to keep our footing we passed over the rain-slicked Rainbow Ledges. Off the trail, under the conifers, a continuous mat of moss sponged up the water dripping from the needles above. We were wet and miserable. And then in an anti-climactic moment we approached a sign marking the northern end of the 100 Mile Wilderness. A few hundred yards later and we were dumped out onto Maine’s infamous dirt highway – the Golden Road. Pulp trucks lumbered by laden with logs. We crossed the bridge over the West Branch of the Penobscot and into Abol Bridge Campground just outside Baxter State Park.
We planned to spend our last night in the park at a lean-to site reserved for thru-hikers. But at the privately-owned Abol Bridge Campground, where RV’s and bunkhouses occupied a loop road under the birches, we learned from a ranger that the lean-tos were full. And because we didn’t have a reservation in Baxter, we wouldn’t be able to hike to the foot of Katahdin – base camp for our long-awaited ascent. The twins and I wanted to call it quits, to call their Mama to come pick us up a day early. I felt defeated.

Milo would have none of it. He insisted, if we weren’t hiking Katahdin, then he’d go it alone. The twins were fine with that, but it didn’t settle well with me. I couldn’t let Milo down; we had to go on. It meant we’d have to shell out $140 for one night in the private campground, get up early and hike 5.5 miles into the park to the start of the Hunt Trail, and get there with enough time to hike up and down Maine’s largest mountain.
Katahdin & the end of a Backpacking Trip on the Appalachian Trail
The last day dawned with vestiges of the previous day’s clouds shrouding Baxter Peak, Katahdin’s high point. We donned our packs and were off. Katahdin is a pile of broken rock. At times the trail is nothing more than slabs of barely navigable granite sharp enough to cut a bare leg or knee. At elevation, trees are short and stunted. The sky opens up, crows struggle in the wind, and the land below becomes a mosaic of leaves, needles, and water. It is literally sacred ground.
A steady stream of hikers varying in levels of preparedness swarmed the mountain. A precipitous rise leveled off onto the Table Lands, a gradual slope of tundra, the approach to the peak. At the top, 360-degrees of splendor captivated us. Held us quiet. Meanwhile the peak-scene resembled an Instagram photo shoot. Selfies, group photos, panoramic camera sweeps, even some phone calls. We tipped our greasy hats to the mountain and hobbled our way down to meet Mama. It was over.

I lost nine pounds in ten days, and it took another ten days for me to recover full operation of my knees. But what I gained overshadowed the loss. It may sound trite to say it, but the distraction-free time I spent with my boys – without screens, without obligation to society, jobs, and chores – is something I will cherish for the rest of my days. To think, none of this would have happened if I didn’t take a chance on change, rise to the new opportunity as a teacher, accept the challenge. Are you ready for a change? Where is the trailhead to your 100-Mile Wilderness?
Hiking Maine's 100-Mile Wilderness: Resources
Resources for hiking this section of the Appalachian Trail include the 100-Mile Wilderness Map & Guide as well as Hiking Maine's 100 Mile Wilderness, a Falcon Guide.
Editor's Note: This article originally appeared in Issue 52 of TrailGroove Magazine. You can read the original article here for additional photos and content.

The first light of morning begins to stream over the mountains, through the tree’s canopy, and into your tent. These mornings were welcome, as seeing the sun’s morning glory while still bundled up warmly inside your tent was actually a rarity on the JMT. More often than not, however, you’re confronted with the unenviable task of rising to the dark, cold blanket that lies heavily on your campsite before the sun’s rays have the chance to lift it off.
Chilly mornings thicken the blood and slow down all bodily processes. Everything happens a little more slowly first thing in the morning. Naturally, it takes time to work out the kinks from the previous day before mustering up the courage to throw your pack on again and step out confidently to meet the day ahead.

After a warm helping of oatmeal, a much-needed shot of instant coffee, and a glance at your planned mileage for the day, you break camp and continue down the same comfortable path you were so eager to leave the night before.
Hiking the John Muir Trail
Completing the JMT only requires the simple act of putting one foot in front of the other. I suppose the challenge really lies in the sheer number of times one must be willing to endure this simple act if they wish to complete the entire trail. Trust me, there are days when simply putting the next foot forward is much more challenging than you’ve possibly ever imagined.
Every hiker that’s been out for weeks will tell you that you’re simply bound to have “off” days, much like even the greatest athletes in human history. There are days when your feet seem detached from the body. You feel clumsy. Your feet can’t seem to pick out the right spots. You struggle to find the path of least resistance. Then, there are other days when the ground simply flows beneath your feet effortlessly, and you’re left to take in the beautiful surroundings with your head up and your eyes alert.
But let’s get back to today: After three hours of hard hiking, it’s time to take your first major break. Depending on the number of miles you’re going for on a given day, you might choose to break for an early lunch or you might choose to push into the early afternoon before making your first pit stop.

The morning is undoubtedly the best time to hike once you’ve given yourself over to Nature’s schedule. The air is crisper and lighter, and lower temperatures make pushing hard miles much easier on the body in the early part of the day.
Mid-day on the JMT: A Physical and Mental Reset
Lunch is always a welcome reprieve on the JMT. It typically signals the onset of that, “It’s all downhill from here,” mentality for the remainder of the day. While this is almost always figuratively true, it’s quite often accurate in a more literal sense as well. While everyone has their unique style, most hikers prefer to knock out the toughest mileage before noon so that they can literally cruise “downhill” in the afternoons. Lunch on the JMT typically consists of whatever “ready-made” foods you’ve compiled leading up to the trip. Not many use their mid-day break as an opportunity to bust out the camping stove and burn up a little isobutane.
The knowledge that your lunch will be ready as soon as you fetch it from your pack, however, often motivates you to push those few extra miles before giving into a well-deserved rest. Mid-day on the JMT, on sunny days, was the best time to throw the pack off your shoulders and hurl yourself down on the grass. When it comes to moments of sheer satisfaction on the JMT, stopping for lunch was on par with finally settling on a consensus-approved campsite at the conclusion of each day.

Scenic evening light on the John Muir Trail
Afternoon Hiking
Hiking in the afternoon was always the most physically taxing, as the heat and the accumulation of morning mileage begin to take their toll. Short rests are much more frequently interspersed throughout afternoon hiking, and that funny energy I can only describe as a mild mania is much more likely to settle upon the group after lunch. Afternoons were the playground for random outbursts of song, prolonged attempts to communicate with nearby wildlife, and any other general shenanigans that could be mustered.
The boundary line where physical exhaustion meets mental stubbornness can be a wonderful place to forget your fears and lose your mind for a few moments, and the warm rays of the afternoon sun presented the comforting atmosphere necessary for many of these moments to be fully embraced by the group, without worries or trepidations of any kind. Afternoons on the JMT: the place where your body is pushed so far that your mind begins to break. But is it a breakdown, or should it be viewed, more positively, as a breakthrough?

The John Muir Wilderness
The JMT Experience
But I digress, and whilst you’ve allowed my intense period of reminiscing to run its course, you’re undoubtedly still waiting for more about the actual, physical experience of hiking through the Sierra. Well, just for fun, let’s jump to a splendid section of trail with a river on our left and towering rock piles with clever nicknames rising thousands of feet to our right. We come to a hanging suspension bridge. Yes, you heard that right: A hanging suspension bridge built over a river way out in the middle of the woods, expressly for the purpose of transporting backpackers and hikers from one side to the other.
We cross, one at a time, as the instructions clearly dictate, and it begins to drizzle as we stand around marveling at the fact that we’d walked nearly 200 miles only to find a perfect suspension bridge, waiting for us in such a seemingly wild place. Such surprises, and indeed many much better than this one, are commonplace on the JMT.
In this case, the slight drizzle that dissipated as we began to prepare dinner in the twilight was a foreboding sign of things to come. After a hearty dinner of your JMT staple, dehydrated chicken and quinoa with a healthy variety of spices, the group chipped in for clean up and, before long, you’ve all settled into your respective tents to spend time writing or reading before finally closing your eyes for the night.

But a clap of lightning and the low, heavy rumbling of thunder shake you awake around 4 am. You can hear the incessant beating of raindrops on your tent, but you can only lay your head back down and hope the storm blows through before you’re supposed to hit the trail again. It doesn’t. It sticks around and graces you with its domineering presence for close to 24 hours. All you can do is sit inside your tent and read or write, leaving only to prepare food or quickly scuttle over to a companion’s tent to discuss the JMT hiker’s eternal dilemma when confronted with unfavorable weather: “Do we stay, or do we go?”
Such is life on the JMT. Mother Nature ultimately holds all the cards. She has the power to delay, suspend, or cancel your trip if she desires. All you can truly hope is that she shows you enough compassion to give you a fighter’s chance at testing your mettle, and pushing your boundaries, on the JMT.
John Muir Trail (JMT) Need to Know & Thru-hiking Resources
Information
If you’re interested in exploring the wild places that are accessible via the 210-mile-long JMT, it’s best to start planning as early as possible. Each group of hikers needs to purchase a permit for the JMT, regardless of whether you’re thru-hiking or just completing a select section. If you’re truly interested, you should be sure to visit the National Park Service website to explore the process of obtaining a wilderness permit.
Planning meals for a month in the wilderness and sending resupplies to the proper locations months in advance is difficult in its own right, but those who wish to complete the JMT successfully must also consider a number of other logistical factors, including monitoring weather conditions to be sure you include the proper gear and arranging pick-ups and drop-offs at either end of the trail. Every individual hiker on the JMT must carry a bear proof container for food storage purposes, and the details of pick-ups and drop-offs can vary greatly depending on which terminus you start from and where you’ll be traveling from to get there. See the John Muir Trail Tips and Hiking Guide (courtesy of the TrailGroove Blog) for more information.
Getting There
If you’re starting on the north end of the trail in Yosemite Valley, you’ll need to know which entrance will be most convenient for you. There are four gates into Yosemite Valley: Lee Vining in the east, Groveland in the North, Mariposa in the west, and Oakhurst in the South.
When starting in Yosemite Valley, it can be beneficial to arrange an overnight cabin in Curry Village to give yourself a final evening to dial in any last minute details before departing the following morning. If you’re starting in the south, things may be a bit simpler, as there is only a single access point to the southern terminus at Whitney Portal, which is located just outside Lone Pine, CA.
Best Time to Go
While the best time to hike the JMT will vary depending on seasonal weather, as well as your desired starting point, most hikers prefer to tackle the trail anywhere from early July to the end of September. This doesn’t mean the trail is completely inaccessible outside of those months, but the conditions might require a bit more heavy gear if you wish to be truly prepared.
Maps and Books
While you’ll most likely be able to obtain the best maps of the trail at the ranger station where you pick up your permit, there are a number of trail maps that will help you plan your daily mileage in advance and on the trail such as the John Muir Trail Topographic Map Guide by National Geographic.
When it comes to useful books and literature the book John Muir Trail: The Essential Guide to Hiking America’s Most Famous Trail comes highly recommended. Also see the John Muir Trail Data Book.
Editor's Note: This article originally appeared in Issue 22 of TrailGroove Magazine. You can read the original article here for additional photos and content.