Backpacking – The Big Outside https://thebigoutside.com America’s Best Backpacking and Outdoor Adventures Fri, 06 Mar 2026 17:14:18 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.9.1 https://i0.wp.com/tbo-media.sfo2.digitaloceanspaces.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/06235325/cropped-Sier2-82-Granite-Park-Muir-Wldrnes.jpg?fit=32%2C32&ssl=1 Backpacking – The Big Outside https://thebigoutside.com 32 32 159605698 Photo Gallery: Backpacking Yellowstone’s Bechler Canyon https://thebigoutsideblog.com/photo-gallery-backpacking-yellowstones-bechler-canyon/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/photo-gallery-backpacking-yellowstones-bechler-canyon/#comments Thu, 05 Mar 2026 10:00:33 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=35709 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

I wade slowly into the natural pool known as Mr. Bubble, deep in the backcountry of Yellowstone National Park, feeling the swirling blend of hot water from the natural hot springs pouring into one corner of the pool, and the cold creek water entering from another corner. I lower myself to a sitting position, chest-deep, and crab crawl to find a spot with a perfect, hot-tub water temperature—and plant myself there for a long time.

And I’m thinking: This is quite a sweet treat on a wilderness backpacking trip. I could get used to this.

Our visit to Mr. Bubble came on the second afternoon of a five-day, roughly 55-mile backpacking trip through Bechler Canyon in mid-September, the very tail end of summer, which happens to be a good time to backpack in this corner of Yellowstone. I definitely wanted to hike the Bechler after the notorious mosquito season of early to mid-summer, when dense clouds of hangry skeeters (and I do mean “hangry”) rise from the boggy Bechler Meadows and make the lives of any blood-filled creatures who happen to be here then a misery.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A hiker in Shoshone Geyser Basin, Yellowstone National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm hiking in Shoshone Geyser Basin, Yellowstone National Park.

This trip had been on my “I’m intrigued and want to do it” list for several years for a few reasons. One is the abundance of thunderous waterfalls and cascades along the hike, created by the geology of the region and the huge winter snowpack that feeds the creeks and springs draining the plateau in the southwest corner of Yellowstone. The Bechler River is also a beauty, varying in character from a gentle, quiet, tree-lined waterway with world-class trout fishing to a raging torrent where some cascades tumble for hundreds of feet. (And the fords along the Bechler can be deep, frigid, and a bit adventurous.)

Another motivation was to explore the Shoshone Geyser Basin, the largest backcountry geyser basin in the park—imagine having Old Faithful and the Upper Geyser Basin almost entirely to yourself.

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Backpackers soaking in the hot springs-fed Mr. Bubble pool in the backcountry of Yellowstone National Park.
Backpackers soaking in the hot springs-fed Mr. Bubble pool in Yellowstone.

And the last reason was, of course, the famous Mr. Bubble natural pool, where hot water erupting from the earth—you can actually see the water boiling up from the ground just several feet away, and bubbles of heated air constantly boiling near the middle of the Mr. Bubble pool—mixes with the cold water of the Ferris Fork creek to create a wide, hot pool for soaking. We ran into a few other parties of backpackers during our lengthy soak in Mr. Bubble, where it’s not unusual for hikers to linger for hours (especially those who have the good luck of scoring a backcountry campsite nearby).

The gallery below features some of my photos from backpacking Yellowstone’s Bechler Canyon. Scroll below the gallery for the link to my story about this trip, which includes my expert tips on how to take it yourself.

A backcountry permit is required for overnight camping in Yellowstone’s backcountry. Bechler Canyon is popular, so reserve a backcountry permit in advance at recreation.gov/permits/4675323. For the best chance of getting a permit for popular backpacking trips like Bechler Canyon, enter the the Early Access Lottery, which runs from March 1 through March 20. General reservations open beginning April 26.

I can help you plan this or any other trip you read about at my blog. Find out more here.

See my feature story about this trip “In Hot (and Cold) Water: Backpacking Yellowstone’s Bechler Canyon”—which, like many stories about trips at The Big Outside, includes my detailed tips on planning this trip and requires a paid membership to read in full.

See also my stories “The Ultimate Family Tour of Yellowstone” and “The 10 Best Hikes in Yellowstone,” and all stories about Yellowstone National Park at The Big Outside.

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25 Essential Backpacking Gear Accessories of 2026 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/gear-review-12-essential-backpacking-accessories/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/gear-review-12-essential-backpacking-accessories/#comments Wed, 04 Mar 2026 10:00:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=21718 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Sure, your backpack, boots, tent, sleeping bag, air mattress, and other backpacking gear matter a lot, and you should put serious thought into your choices when buying any of them. But little things matter, too. Various necessary accessories, convenience items, and small comforts accompany me on backcountry trips. Nearly three decades of field-testing gear—including the 10 years I spent as the lead gear reviewer for Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog—has refined my sense of what I like on certain types of trips and what I will not do without anytime.

Here’s my freshly updated list of essential backpacking accessories, ranging from basics like the best stuff sacks, bladders and water bottles, camp kitchen gear, water filters, tent stakes, and bear canister, to my go-to trekking poles, great values in a headlamp, camp stove, sport sunglasses, and knife, and what I sit on and slip my feet into in camp and lay my head down on every night I sleep on the ground.

I’ve tested this gear extensively on numerous backpacking trips from the Teton Crest Trail and Wonderland Trail, Yosemite, and the Wind River Range to Idaho’s Sawtooths, the Grand Canyon, Glacier, and countless other places.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A backpacker hiking the Dawson Pass Trail above Pitamakan Pass in Glacier National Park.
Pam Solon backpacking the Dawson Pass Trail above Pitamakan Pass in Glacier National Park. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan any backpacking trip you read about at this blog.

I don’t carry everything on this list on every trip, of course. Some, like a bear canister, solar panel and power bank, I bring only when needed; others, like a utensil, mug, and inflatable pillow, I always have with me. But what follows represent the best I’ve found of each type of accessory. You’ll find links below to good prices on many of them right now and you can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by making purchases through the affiliate links in this review. Thanks for doing that.

I think you may find some things in this list that you can’t go without. See also my picks for the best backpacking gear of the year.

I’d appreciate any of your observations about the gear reviewed here, or suggestions on favorite accessories of yours that I’ve overlooked; share them in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

Nemo Fillo Elite Pillow.
Nemo Fillo Elite Pillow.

Inflatable Pillow

Call me soft (or smart), but an inflatable pillow goes into my pack on all backcountry trips, because these lightweight and compact models help me sleep better at an inconsequential cost in weight and bulk. Why wouldn’t you take one? These are the best I’ve found.

Sea to Summit Aeros Ultralight Pillow.
Sea to Summit Aeros Ultralight Pillow.

After using it on multiple backpacking trips, including a nine-day hike of about 130 miles through the High Sierra, mostly on the John Muir Trail, trips in the Wind River Range (including the Wind River High Route), in The Maze District of Canyonlands National Park, and on the Wonderland Trail around Mount Rainier, I have a new favorite. The Nemo Fillo Elite Pillow ($60, 2.8 oz./79.4g) weighs under three ounces but doesn’t compromise comfort: Inflated, it measures 15x11x3 inches. Made of 100 percent post-consumer recycled PrimaLoft synthetic insulation, it inflates with two strong puffs and the soft, jersey blend cover fabric is machine washable. An integrated stuff sack (read: you won’t lose it) packs the Fillo Elite to the size of a tennis ball (4×3 inches).

Another longtime go-to head rest on countless backpacking trips, including in Glacier National Park, Yosemite, the Grand Canyon, and many more, has been the Sea to Summit Aeros Ultralight Pillow ($50, 2.5 oz./70.9g, large 13x17x5.5 ins.) because of its ample size and cushion and soft fabric, and it stuffs down to the size of my fist.

Therm-a-Rest Air Head Lite Pillow
Therm-a-Rest Air Head Lite Pillow.

Yet another I like a lot is the Therm-a-Rest Air Head Lite Pillow ($55, 2-2.8 oz./56.7g-79.4g), which comes in two sizes that inflate to 18×12.5×4 inches or 15.5x11x4 inches, while packing down smaller than a tennis ball, and the stretch-knit polyester fabric feels soft against your cheek.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these affiliate links to purchase a Nemo Fillo Elite Pillow at backcountry.com or rei.com, a Sea to Summit Aeros Ultralight Pillow at backcountry.com, seatosummit.com, or rei.com, or a Therm-a-Rest Air Head Lite Pillow at backcountry.com.

Two favorite products pull double duty as a pillow and stuff sack—and both weigh less than all but the very lightest inflatable backpacking pillows.

The Hyperlite Mountain Gear Stuff Sack Pillow ($63, 1.7 oz./48.2g, 12×17 ins.) consists of highly durable, waterproof (although the zipper is not waterproof) DCF8 shell fabric—which will keep contents dry if heavy rain penetrates a backpack or the sack is exposed for a short time to rain—with a soft, Polartec 100 fleece lining. A perfect size for storing extra clothing and small camp items while on the trail, it can be turned inside-out to function as a pillow at night.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking this affiliate link to purchase the Hyperlite Mountain Gear Stuff Sack Pillow at hyperlitemountaingear.com.

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Hyperlite Mountain Gear Pod.
Hyperlite Mountain Gear Pod.

Stuff Sacks and Packing Pods

Stuff sacks protect clothing and gear from any water that penetrates a backpack, and make organizing and loading a pack easier and faster by compartmentalizing clothing and smaller gear items, giving you fewer things to transfer in and out of a pack. They also provide a more effective way of keeping stuff dry inside your pack than a rain cover, which doesn’t fully cover a pack, can blow off, and will wet through in a sustained downpour. I always use stuff sacks, and these are the best I’ve found.

The Hyperlite Mountain Gear Dyneema Composite Fabrics Roll-Top Stuff Sacks ($53-$83, 3.7L to 43L, 1-2 oz./28.4g-56.7g) are incredibly light, waterproof, and tough enough to withstand virtually any kind of abuse. Using the 43-liter Hyperlite Mountain Gear Roll-Top stuff sack ($79, 2 oz./56.7g) as a partial pack liner has kept my pack contents completely dry through steady, wind-driven rain on the Tour du Mont Blanc, Iceland’s Laugavegur Trail, and elsewhere. While they’re not intended to be used as dry bags (they’re not submersible), they keep clothing and gear dry through wet conditions short of full immersion in water. HMG’s Drawstring stuff sacks ($31-$58, multiple sizes) are made with the same waterproof fabric but have drawstring closures that are not watertight; still, they’re adequate for the needs of most backpackers and offer a lighter, more compact alternative to the roll-top sacks.

Hyperlite Mountain Gear DCF8 and DCF Roll-Top stuff sacks.
Hyperlite Mountain Gear Drawstring and Roll-Top stuff sacks.

But the coolest are the Hyperlite Mountain Gear Pods ($60-$70, 1.2-1.4 oz./34g-39.7g, 6.8L to 12.3L), which I’ve used many times, including on a five-day hike in the Wind River Range, a nine-day hike of over 120 miles through the High Sierra, mostly on the John Muir Trail, and a seven-day hike in Glacier National Park. Stackable, flexible, super light, zippered units also made of waterproof Dyneema Composite Fabric with a water-resistant zipper, pods are shaped and sized to slip inside a pack wall to wall, leaving no gaps. Convenient for organization with their clamshell design and spacious enough to fit a surprising amount of stuff, they come in small and large sizes for two capacities—2400/3400 for 40-55L packs and 4400 for 70L packs—and fit inside HMG’s packs perfectly but other pack models as well.

I’ve also become a fan of a few other HMG accessories. The Hyperlite Mountain Gear Versa ($85, 0.2 lbs./90.7g, 2.25x6x9 inches) will attach to your pack at the sternum, hipbelt, daisy chains, or on top of the pack secured by compression Y-straps, or you can wear around your waist in front using its low-profile belt. Incredibly light and compact, made from waterproof, very tough Dyneema Composite Fabrics DCH50, it’s hardly noticeable when I’m hiking but highly convenient when I want to quickly pull out my Nikon Z50, a map, or another small item from its water-resistant main compartment or second, zippered pocket.

The regular Hyperlite Mountain Gear Camera Pod ($125, 2.7 oz./76.5g, 7×5.5×3.75 inches), made with Dyneema Composite Fabrics and easy to attach to a pack’s shoulder straps, holds my Nikon Z50 body with a small zoom lens mounted on it (dimensions 5×3.7×3.7 ins.), but get the large ($145, 3.7 oz./104.9g, 9.5×6.5×4.25 ins.) for extra capacity.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these links to purchase Hyperlite Mountain Gear Roll-Top or Drawstring Stuff Sacks and Pods at hyperlitemountaingear.com, the Hyperlite Mountain Gear Versa at hyperlitemountaingear.com, or the Hyperlite Mountain Gear Camera Pod at hyperlitemountaingear.com..

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Sea to Summit Ultra-Sil Dry Sack 4L
Sea to Summit Ultra-Sil Dry Sack 4L.

On a four-day August backpacking trip in the Wind River Range, Sea to Summit’s 3L Ultra-Sil Dry Bag ($23-$40, 3L/183 c.i. to 35L/2,136 c.i., 1.1-2.6 oz.) kept my puffy jacket dry, and the brand’s Evac Compression Dry Bag UL (see below) kept my sleeping bag dry through an afternoon thunderstorm and a torrential downpour that soaked through my backpack in the Winds—even leaving a small puddle of water in the bottom of the pack. Those two sacks saved me from a cold, wet, miserable night then and easily fended off a more-typical morning rain on a seven-day hike in Glacier National Park in September.

I also used both dry bag models while backpacking the three-day, 22-mile Boulder Mail Trail-Death Hollow Loop in southern Utah’s Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument, which includes a descent of several miles in water in Death Hollow, with pools that came to mid-thigh.

For their low weight, durability, water resistance, and price, it’s hard to beat the Sea to Summit Ultra-Sil Dry Bags. These bags also kept my down jacket dry inside my pack throughout four February days of backcountry skiing in the Sierra mountains around Lake Tahoe, much of the time in heavily falling snow; and most impressively, kept my clothing dry while paddling an inflatable kayak on Idaho’s class III Payette River, even though the boat filled with water numerous times. Ideal for backpackers, the 30-denier, high-tenacity Ultra Sil Cordura nylon, siliconized for durability and packability, has a hypalon roll-top closure that doesn’t wick moisture, plus fully taped seams and reinforced stitching.

The more affordable Six Moon Designs Pack Liner ($20, 50L, 3 oz./85g) has also kept my gear and clothes dry when rain pounded my pack; and I used it to ensure everything inside stayed dry in case I slipped and fell in any deep pool in the canyon Death Hollow while backpacking the three-day, 22-mile Boulder Mail Trail-Death Hollow Loop in southern Utah’s Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument. A roll-top, 50-liter sack that’s treated to repel water, it’s made of 40-denier ripstop nylon with taped seams.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these links to purchase Sea to Summit Ultra-Sil Dry Bags at rei.com or seatosummit.com, or the Six Moon Designs Pack Liner at sixmoondesigns.com.

Planning your next big adventure?
See “
America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips” and my Trips page.

Compression Sack

Sea to Summit Evac Compression Dry Bag UL.
The Sea to Summit Evac Compression Dry Bag UL.

As I mentioned above, on a recent backpacking trip in the Wind River Range, the Sea to Summit Evac Compression Dry Bag UL ($40-$60, 2-3.9 oz., 5L to 20L) kept my sleeping bag dry through an afternoon thunderstorm and a torrential downpour that soaked through my backpack. The dry bag sat in water pooled at the bottom of the pack for an hour before I unloaded the pack in camp—and my sleeping bag was perfectly dry.

The compression straps make it as compact as possible and this dry bag kept my sleeping bag dry on the wettest backpacking trips—including a nine-day, 130-mile hike through the High Sierra, mostly on the John Muir Trail, when an hour-long rainstorm one afternoon soaked through my pack (I didn’t use a pack cover—see tip no. 1 in this story); and trekking hut-to-hut for six days on Iceland’s 33-mile Laugavegur Trail and 15.5-mile Fimmvörðuháls Trail, when we hiked through precipitation on most days. The Ultra-Sil 30-denier Cordura nylon and waterproof-breathable eVent fabric will pass air, so you can squeeze the sack down smaller even after closing the roll-top opening (which you can’t do with traditional dry bags). But like the above stuff sacks, these are not designed for full immersion because water will eventually penetrate the roll-top closure.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these links to purchase Sea to Summit Evac Compression Dry Sacks at rei.com or seatosummitusa.com.

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Black Diamond Distance Carbon FLZ trekking and running poles.
Black Diamond Distance Carbon FLZ trekking and running poles.

Trekking Poles

The folding, 100 percent carbon fiber Black Diamond Distance Carbon FLZ ($240, 12.7 oz./360g, pair 95-140cm, three sizes) hit a sweet spot for versatility, falling on the cusp between the most ultralight and packable poles and models that are heavier and less packable.

Quickly deployed thanks to an internal Kevlar cord, and adjusted using BD’s reliable FlickLock levers, they have extended EVA foam grips and partly mesh nylon wrist straps. I’ve frequently grabbed them from a large quiver of poles I own for outings ranging from hikes and runs on local trails to backpacking trips of 77 miles on the Wonderland Trail around Mount Rainier and 47 miles in The Maze District of Canyonlands National Park.

For lightweight and ultralight backpackers, hikers, and runners, and adventure athletes looking for the lightest and most packable adjustable poles, you need look no further.

Read my complete review of the Black Diamond Distance Carbon FLZ poles and my picks for “The Best Trekking Poles.”

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these affiliate links to buy the Black Diamond Distance Carbon FLZ poles at blackdiamondequipment.com, backcountry.com, or rei.com.

Gear up right for your trips with the best backpacking gear of the year.

Black Diamond Spot 400-R headlamp.
The Black Diamond Spot 400-R.

Headlamp

Hold the rechargeable Black Diamond Spot 400-R ($80, 2.6 oz./73.7g) up against any ultralight headlamp and try to convince yourself to buy something else. It has all the power most users need at 400 lumens with a range of 100 meters; that’s bright enough to hike off-trail, search for your route in the dark, or identify the large animal going for your cached food. And a full charge lasts four hours at max power.

Then consider the arguably unbeatable feature set, starting with three white and red modes with dimming capability, plus intuitive two-button operation, BD’s cool PowerTap technology, lockout mode, and it’s waterproof up to a little over a meter underwater for 30 minutes. But most of all, at just 15 bucks more than BD’s Spot 400, the rechargeable Spot 400-R soon pays for itself through the money saved not buying (and throwing away) batteries. Besides, why wouldn’t you buy a rechargeable headlamp today?

Read my complete review of the Black Diamond Spot 400-R and see my picks for “The Best Headlamps.”

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these affiliate links to purchase a rechargeable Black Diamond Spot 400-R at blackdiamondequipment.com or backcountry.com, a battery-operated Black Diamond Spot 400 at backcountry.com or blackdiamondequipment.com, or the Storm 500-R or any BD headlamp at backcountry.com or blackdiamondequipment.com.

Serious adventures demand serious gear. See “The 12 Best Down Jackets
and “The Best Rain Jackets For Hiking and Backpacking”.”

 

The BioLite SolarPanel 5+.
The BioLite SolarPanel 5+.

Solar Charger and Power Bank

Let’s face it, portable power has become an essential backpacking accessory for countless wilderness foot travelers. I carried the BioLite SolarPanel 5+ ($100, 13 oz./368.5g) on a nine-day, 130-mile hike through the High Sierra, mostly on the John Muir Trail, with some off-trail segments, to keep my smartphone charged so I could regularly check my mapping app. With direct exposure to peak sunlight, the five-watt SolarPanel 5+ fully charges its on-board 3200 mAh battery in three hours and can recharge a smartphone in as little as two hours, a BioLite Headlamp 200 in 2.5 hours, or the BioLite Charge 20 PD battery in 5.5 hours.

The BioLite SolarPanel 5+.
The BioLite SolarPanel 5+.

Hiking with it on my backpack and plugged into a device, with its sun exposure constantly changing and sometimes in forest, I found it would often recharge my depleted Android phone to around 50 percent and boost my iPad charge by about 20 percent during the day. The 360-degree kickstand enables positioning it at any angle, while the integrated sun dial allows you to aim the panel optimally for maximum sun exposure—useful when it’s stationary in camp or during breaks. It features a micro-USB input port and USB A output and comes with a USB A to USB C cable. At 13 ounces/368.5 grams and measuring 10.2×8.2×0.9 inches/25.9×20.8×2.3cm, this slim unit is packable and light enough for extended backpacking trips. The IPX4 weatherproof rating means it’s resistant to water splashes from any direction—fine in a light rain but put it away in significant precipitation (when it’s useless, anyway).

I use the BioLite Charge 40 PD power bank ($70, 9.4 oz./266.5g) to augment a solar panel in the backcountry—or instead of the panel when I don’t need more power in reserve than the Charge 40 PD holds. It was all I needed to keep a couple of my family’s phones powered up on a six-day, hut-to-hut trek on Iceland’s Laugavegur and Fimmvörðuháls trails, where we rarely saw the sun. And it’s ideal for long travel days.

Rated to recharge 2.5 smartphones—though that performance will vary between phone models—it would, when fully charged, bring my Samsung smartphone (2550mAh battery) from around 20 percent to 100 percent three to four times. The 10,000 mAh battery can be recharged plugging into a wall outlet for 2.5 hours using the USB A-to-USB C cable that comes with the unit. It has a USB-C PD port (up to 18W) and two USB-A quick charge out ports. BioLite advises using and recharging it at least once every four months.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these affiliate links to purchase BioLite SolarPanel 5+ at rei.com or bioliteenergy.com, or a BioLite Charge 40 PD power bank at bioliteenergy.com.

Click here now to plan your next great backpacking adventure using my expert e-books.

Sunglasses

Tifosi Crit sport sunglasses.

Everyone needs eye protection from bright sunshine and UV light. But high-performance, well-fitting, and stylish sunglasses for outdoor sports are not often well-priced. Tifosi has broken that rule. The Tifosi Crit wrap-around sport sunglasses ($50, 1 oz./28.4g), ideal for everything from hiking to running, cycling, and more, have photochromic Clarion red lenses that adjust to shifting ambient light from nearly clear to a red mirror with a smoke tint—wearable in conditions from cloudy to the brightest, shadeless, sunny days of mid-summer. The Crit features an aerodynamic, ventilating design, shatterproof lenses, a light and durable Grilamid TR-90 nylon frame, hydrophilic rubber to grip well even when sweaty, adjustable arm and nose pieces for customizing the fit, and UVA and UVB protection. I wore them every day on adventures as wide-ranging as trekking hut to hut on Iceland’s Laugavegur Trail in July, backpacking nine days through the High Sierra, mostly on a section of the John Muir Trail in August, and on a five-day hike in the Wind River Range the week before Labor Day.

Want to save even more? The Svago ($30), made with shatterproof and scratch-resistant, polycarbonate smoke-tinted lenses, also have hydrophilic rubber, a Grilamid TR-90 nylon frame, and UVA and UVB protection.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking this affiliate link to purchase the Tifosi Crit, Svago, or any other sunglasses at tifosioptics.com.

Time for a better backpack?
See “The 10 Best Backpacking Packs” and the best ultralight backpacks.

 

Backpackers hiking over Clouds Rest in Yosemite National Park.
Todd Arndt and Jeff Wilhelm hiking over Clouds Rest in Yosemite, described in my expert e-book “The Best Backpacking Trip in Yosemite.” Click photo to see all of my e-books to classic backpacking trips.

All-Purpose Knife and Multi-Tools

The Swiss Army Climber Knife ($45, 2.9 oz./82.2g) provides a basic set of tools that will meet the needs of most backpackers in a light, compact unit just 3.6 inches/9.1 centimeters long, including large and small blades, scissors, bottle and can openers, screwdrivers, wire stripper, reamer and punch, toothpick and tweezers, corkscrew, and a multipurpose hook. You’ll be hard pressed to find a better value in a small, folding knife.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking this affiliate link to purchase a Swiss Army Climber Knife at backcountry.com.

If you need the ultimate multi-tool, I like the Leatherman Wave+ ($130, 8.5 oz./241g). Just four inches long when closed, this updated version of Leatherman’s long-popular Wave boasts a robust set of 18 tools that all lock quickly into position, many of which get frequent use in the backcountry: two knives (straight and serrated), a saw, spring-action scissors, can and bottle openers, a medium screwdriver, regular and needle-nose pliers, and wire cutters.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking this affiliate link to purchase a Leatherman Wave+ at backcountry.com.

Hydration Bladder

It may sound silly to get excited about a bladder, but while Gregory’s original 3D Hydro was exceptional, they’ve improved on it with the Gregory 3D Hydro Trek 3L hydration bladder ($63, 3L/100 oz./2.83kg, 10 oz./283.5g). Wider and shorter, it fits most backpacks and daypacks (some have a bladder sleeve that’s too narrow for it) and is easier to fill completely and screw the cap on without spilling, thanks to the molded handle-spine. A strap enables hanging from a branch as a base camp bladder to dispense water through the valve, which is capped by a dust cap when in a pack.

With a hose that disconnects, a soft, three-dimensional body, and removable mouthpiece, it dries out fully after use as readily as a hard-sided bottle—helping to prevent the buildup of mildew that degrades a bladder. The magnetic bite valve, which locks to prevent dripping, sticks to a magnet on the sternum strap of Gregory packs; and the bladder’s crescent-shaped plastic top handle clips securely onto the mating piece in the bladder sleeve in the brand’s packs. That’s a bladder worth getting excited about.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these affiliate links to purchase a Gregory 3D Hydro Trek 3L hydration bladder at backcountry.com or any 2L or 3L Gregory 3D Hydro bladder at backcountry.com.

Keep your hands warm on your adventures.
See “The Best Gloves for Winter,” including lightweight gloves for three-season use.

 

Camelbak Fusion 3L Reservoir with Tru-Zip Waterproof Zipper.
Camelbak Fusion 3L Reservoir with Tru-Zip Waterproof Zipper.

The new Camelbak Fusion 3L Reservoir with Tru Zip Waterproof Zipper ($66, 5.5 oz./155.9g) represents a technological step up. Using the Fusion 3L on spring backpacking trips in Arizona’s Aravaipa Canyon and along a section of the Arizona Trail, I noticed right away that, besides the typically durable Camelbak construction, I was most impressed with how the integrated handle and pinch grip allows for much easier, one-handed filling compared to some bladders. Hydroguard inhibits bacterial growth in the reservoir and tube, which are also easy to dry and air out to prevent that, anyway. The valve delivers water quickly and has an on-off switch to prevent leaks. The waterproof zipper is predictably a little sticky but absolutely reliable.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking either of these links to purchase a 2L or 3L CamelBak Fusion 3L Reservoir with Tru Zip Waterproof Zipper at backcountry.com.

Camelbak Crux 3L Reservoir
Camelbak Crux 3L Reservoir

Want a more affordable bladder? From a four-day, 25-mile backpacking trip on the Thunder River-Deer Creek Loop off the North Rim of the Grand Canyon, to a three-day, 40-mile hike in the Wind River Range and numerous other backpacking trips and dayhikes, I’ve found the CamelBak Crux 3L Reservoir ($42, 3L/100 oz., 8 oz./227g) as tough and utilitarian as they come.

The self-sealing mouthpiece valve delivers water quickly and never leaked or dripped when I left it unlocked, and the cap reliably screwed on tightly and leak-free every time. The valve locking mechanism shifts easily using one hand. It has a baffle to minimize sloshing, a push-button release of the hose for cleaning, and Hydroguard antimicrobial treatment in the reservoir and tube to inhibit bacterial growth. Plus, you’d have to make a concerted effort to puncture or damage this polyurethane bladder.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking either of these links to purchase a 2L or 3L CamelBak Crux Reservoir at rei.com.

Packable and Collapsible Water Bottles

I prefer water bottles in various common situations, like sitting around in camp or hiking in freezing temps, but hard-sided, heavy bottles are soooo 2015. The HydraPak Flux Bottle (1.5L/50 oz., $60, 4.3 oz./122g, and 1L/32 oz., $29, 2.7 oz./76.5g) has taken the packability and low weight of a soft bottle and married it to the convenience of a hard bottle’s rigidity for standing up and refilling.

Developed with mutual goals of creating an alternative to single-use plastic and reducing the bulk and weight of hard bottles, the Flux is constructed with a dual-layer TPU film laminate that lends it the rigidity to stand on its flat base—full or empty. The spill-proof twist cap’s valve lets you squirt water into your mouth one-handed (like a bike bottle), doesn’t leak when closed, and the wide opening is compatible with all 42mm threaded filters (like the Katadyn BeFree). Embossed RF-welded soft walls are easy to grip.

Best of all, it’s half the weight of a hard-sided plastic bottle—and when empty, the Flux flattens, rolls and stows into its bail handle, compressing to one-quarter of its full size (smaller than a fist) to slip easily into any pack’s side, lid, or other external pocket.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking this affiliate link to purchase a HydraPak Flux Bottle at rei.com.

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Water Filter and Water Filter Bottle

Katadyn BeFree 10L Gravity Filter.
Katadyn BeFree 10L Gravity Filter.

It’s hard to beat the speed, convenience, and packability of the collapsible Katadyn BeFree Microfilter soft bottles, available in a 0.6L bottle ($45, 2.5 oz./70.9g), 1L bottle ($50, 2.5 oz./70.9g), and 3L bottle ($65, 3.5 oz./99.2g).

The 0.6L bottle measures just 9x3x3 inches and weighs under three ounces and filters up to two liters per minute just by squeezing the collapsible, BPA-free flask, delivering a strong stream of water. It will even pour through the mouthpiece—albeit more slowly than squeezing, of course—by just tilting it upside-down, even when the bottle is nearly empty.

The Katadyn BeFree Gravity Filter (10L $145, 10 oz./283.5g, 6L, $120, 9.3 oz./263.7g, and 3L, $80, 6.8 oz./192.8g) spares you the work of squeezing the bottle, filtering two liters per minute into another bottle or a bladder.

The .01-micron BeFree microfilter protects against harmful organisms like bacteria and cysts and has a projected life of 1,000 liters. Replacing the filter is easy—it pops out and a new one pops in. No backflushing or tools needed. Clean it occasionally by swishing the EZ-Clean Membrane around in water. For long-term storage, clean the filter by squeezing a flask full of clean (tap) water containing either one Micropur tablet or four drops of bleach through the filter.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these affiliate links to purchase any of the Katadyn BeFree bottles or gravity filter at backcountry.com or rei.com.

The LifeStraw Go bottle in Great Smoky Mountains National Park.
The LifeStraw Go bottle in Great Smoky Mountains National Park.

The convenience factor of the LifeStraw Go bottle (22-oz./623.7g, $45, 7.8 oz./221.1g, or 1L, $50, 8.6 oz./243.8g) has lightened my pack weight by letting me carry less water—and it’s not because I drink any less. The ease and quickness of dipping, filling, and immediately drinking from the 22-ounce Go bottle—and not having to take time to treat water with a traditional filter—means that, wherever there are fairly frequent water sources along a hike, I can chug some water at the creek, top off the bottle or even leave it half-full if the next water isn’t far, and resume hiking. Consequently, I don’t treat more water than I’ll need and my pack’s lighter.

On my most-recent trip on the Teton Crest Trail, I rarely carried water in my pack’s bladder. The LifeStraw Go’s two-stage, hollow-fiber, 0.2-micron filter membrane with activated carbon removes virtually all bacteria, protozoa like giardia and cryptosporidium, and organic chemicals like pesticides and herbicides.

See my complete review of the LifeStraw Go bottle With 2-Stage Filtration.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking either of these affiliate links to purchase a 22-oz. or 1L LifeStraw Go water bottle at rei.com or backcountry.com.

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MSR Hyperflow Microfilter
MSR Hyperflow Microfilter

Of course, there are times when you need a pump water filter in the backcountry, such as when dealing with silted water, or when you have to treat a large amount of water (for a group of three or more people or when water sources are far apart). The MSR Hyperflow Microfilter ($160, 9 oz./255.1g) stands out for its speed and compact size. Measuring just 7×3.5 ins., and lighter than many competitors, this hollow-fiber filter pumps three liters per minute, removing protozoa, bacteria, and particulate matter (though not viruses or chemicals), and leaves no taste. It comes with a Quick-Connect Bottle Adapter for pumping directly into a variety of containers, including all MSR hydration bladders and Nalgene bottles.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these links to buy an MSR Hyperflow Microfilter at backcountry.com or cascadedesigns.com.

MSR TrailShot Microfilter.
MSR TrailShot Microfilter.

On a 40-mile, mid-September backpacking trip in Wyoming’s Wind River Range, I pulled out the pocket-size MSR TrailShot Microfilter ($70, 5 oz./141.7g) frequently to sate my thirst within seconds, enabling me to carry less water on my back. Small enough to stuff inside a side pocket on a daypack, it cranks out a liter in a minute. It’s ideal for one or two people on a fast-paced outing where time efficiency and minimizing weight are top priorities, like an ultra-dayhike, an ultralight backpacking trip where water sources are frequent, or a long trail run or adventure race. You have to get down low to the ground to place the input end of the hose in a stream or other water source and drink directly from the filter’s spout, or use the TrailShot to pump water into a bottle or bladder. It removes bacteria like E. coli and protozoa like Cryptosporidium. MSR projects its life at up to 2,000 liters.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking either of these affiliate links to buy an MSR TrailShot Microfilter at backcountry.com or cascadedesigns.com.

The Jetboil Flash backpacking stove.
The Jetboil Flash backpacking stove.

Camp Stove

Simplicity often reigns supreme in the backcountry, and that’s typically how I feel about a cooking stove: keep it simple, efficient, and above all, light.

The Jetboil Flash ($145, 13.1 oz./371g) has become my go-to stove for trips with a small group when we just want to boil water fast, most recently including in Arizona’s Aravaipa Canyon, southern Utah’s Escalante region, the Wind River Range, and Glacier National Park. Cranking 9,000 BTUs, itboils a liter of water in under three-and-a-half minutes in a controlled environment, according to Jetboil. With the insulated FluxRing cooking pot’s fill line limiting each boil to just two cups/0.47 liter—basically just enough to cook for one person at a time—it was fast enough to satisfy for our group of five people on windy mornings in Aravaipa Canyon.

The high fuel efficiency translates to less fuel weight in your pack: Planning our fuel based on Jetboil’s estimate that the Flash will boil 10 liters per 100g JetPower fuel canister, we hiked out of Aravaipa with a little unused fuel. The coolest feature? Jetboil’s thermochromatic color-change heat indicator on one side of the pot shows you how close the water is to boiling. A reliable push-button igniter fires up the stove every time.

MSR PocketRocket 2
MSR PocketRocket 2

See my complete review of the Jetboil Flash.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these affiliate links to purchase the Jetboil Flash backpacking stove at backcountry.com.

The MSR Pocketrocket 2 ($60, 4 oz./113.4g with plastic case, included) boils water fast, has precise flame control for simmering, holds pots of two liters or larger stably, always fires up, and packs small. That’s why it ends up in my pack on many trips. It’s only shortcoming is that the unprotected burner isn’t nearly as fuel-efficient as stoves with a protected burner.

See my complete review of the MSR Pocketrocket 2.

BUY IT NOW You can support this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these links to buy an MSR Pocketrocket 2 stove at rei.com or cascadedesigns.com.

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The MSR WindBurner Group Stove System in the White Goat Wilderness of the Canadian Rockies.
The MSR WindBurner Group Stove System in the White Goat Wilderness of the Canadian Rockies.

But when it’s time to cook for four or more people—especially in a windy campsite—nothing beats the MSR WindBurner Group Stove System ($260, 1 lb. 5 oz./595.3g). Pressure-regulated to produce consistent heat output, with an enclosed burner, the WindBurner Group System loses virtually no fuel efficiency—it basically performs in wind as if there was no wind. Cooking at elevations up to 11,000 feet, with wind at times and mornings down to around 40° F, I used less than two full, 16-oz. MSR IsoPro fuel canisters in six days cooking five breakfasts and dinners for four people—and barely more than one 16-oz. canister for basically the same number of meals for three people (all just boiling water). Plus, good flame control goes from boiling fast to a low simmer for backpackers who want to do more than just boil water. And the pot has a folding handle and strainer lid with a locking latch.

See my complete review of the MSR WindBurner Group Stove System.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these affiliate links to purchase the MSR WindBurner Group Stove System at backcountry.com or cascadedesigns.com, or other WindBurner stoves and products at backcountry.com or cascadedesigns.com.

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Camp Kitchen

MSR Titan Double Wall Mug 375ml and Titan Kettle 1400ml.
MSR Titan Double Wall Mug 375ml and Titan Kettle 1400ml.

On backpacking trips where I want to carry the lightest stove and pot combo plus have the versatility of a pot that I can cook a meal in and eat out of, I’ll pair MSR’s Pocketrocket 2 stove (above) with the MSR Titan Kettle 1400ml ($75, 5.4 oz./153g). The incredibly light but durable, one-liter pot with silicone-coasted folding handles and a secure lid with a silicone gripper on top for lifting off without burning your fingers, it’s big enough to cook for two, light enough for solo trips—and doubles as a bowl and (giant) mug. Internal graduated markings in 0.2-liter and eight-ounce increments take the guesswork out of measuring water. I like the silicone hanger under the lid to keep it out of the dirt.

You can fit a tiny canister stove and an eight-ounce fuel canister or nest other MSR Titan collection products inside, including the Titan Kettle 900ml ($65, 4.4 oz./126g), a good alternative for serious ultralighters; and the nicely sized Titan Double Wall Mug 375ml ($55, 4.1 oz./116g), which has a very secure sipping lid, with a tab for easy removal, and keeps 12 ounces of liquid hot in cool campsites, as it did for me on cool mornings in Montana’s Beartooth Mountains.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these affiliate links to purchase an MSR Titan Kettle 1400ml and/or Titan Kettle 900ml at rei.com, a Titan Double Wall Mug 375ml at backcountry.com, or those and other MSR Titan products at rei.com or cascadedesigns.com.

When cooking convenience and packability take priority over going absolutely minimalist—as it has on many family backpacking trips—I grab the Sea to Summit Frontier Ultralight Collapsible One-Pot Cook Set ($140, 19 oz./527g, for two to four people). The 2.2-liter/74-ounce pot (10.5 oz./297g by itself) is made with collapsible, food-grade silicone walls and a hardened alloy aluminum base, and the pot’s lid fits securely enough to avoid spills when pouring hot water. The stainless-steel Click Safe Handle attaches to the pot with an audible click and carries any food or liquid weight without loosening; reversing the handle secures the nested and packed set. 

The medium bowls and 400ml cups are small enough to remain packable but most hungry backpackers will refill them at mealtime. I’ve boiled water, cooked pasta, rice, mac ‘n’ cheese and other messy dinners and found the pieces all easy to wipe clean. The walls of every piece lock into place when in use—nothing collapses with hot food or liquid inside—and stack neatly together when collapsed, packing down to 7.8×2 ins./19.7×5.1cm. The set is also PFOA-, PTFE- and BPA-free and the various pieces are also sold individually.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these affiliate links to buy the Sea to Summit Frontier Ultralight Collapsible One-Pot Cook Set at seatosummit.com or rei.com, other Sea to Summit Frontier cook sets (including non-collapsible, which are less expensive), or a Frontier pot, bowl, mug, individually at backcountry.com, seatosummit.com, or rei.com.

A good two-way radio makes your adventures safer.
See my review of the Rocky Talkie Mountain Radio.

Utensil

MSR Titan Long Spoon
MSR Titan Long Spoon

You gotta eat, and I extend my preference for carrying the bare necessities in gear right down to my utensils. Here are. my top picks.

With hot breakfasts and dinners in the backcountry, I’m virtually always using just a spoon to eat from a bowl or dig into a dehydrated meal packet, so I prefer a long handle like you get with the ultralight, titanium MSR Titan Long Spoon ($18, 0.7 oz./19g), which measures 8.4 inches/21.2 centimeters long and clips onto a mini-biner.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these affiliate links to purchase an MSR Titan Long Spoon at backcountry.com, rei.com, or cascadedesigns.com.

Jetboil Jetset Utensils
Jetboil Jetset Utensils

And the very packable Jetboil TrailWare Utensil Set ($17, 1.5 oz./46.7g for all three pieces), which includes a collapsible spoon, fork, and knife.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking this affiliate link to purchase a Jetboil TrailWare Utensil Set at rei.com.

The MSR Dromlite 4L Bag.
The MSR Dromlite 4L Bag.

Water Bag

No one likes carrying a large amount of water very far in the backcountry, but when I have to do it, I turn to a reliable standby—as I’ve done many times backpacking in the Grand Canyon, including on my most recent trip on the Utah Flats Route and Clear Creek Trail. The MSR Dromlite Bag ($45-$50, three sizes 2L-6L, 4.6-5.7 oz./130.4g-161.6g), the brand’s lighter (and cheaper) but still tough version of its Dromedary, collapses to its cap size. Made with abrasion-resistant Cordura, these tough bags have a temperature threshold from freezing to boiling, a secure cap that ensures effortless filling and pouring, and a sturdy, low-profile handle that enables easy refilling and hanging it in camp.

MSR Dromedary 10L
MSR Dromedary 10L

The classic MSR Dromedary ($52, three sizes 4L-10L, 7-10 oz./198.4g-283.5g), although heavier, offers one larger size (10 liters). These stout sacks have never sprung a leak inside my backpack, thanks to BPA-free, 1,000-denier fabric and a tight seal on the screw cap. Strong perimeter webbing makes it easy to carry or hang in camp, and when empty, they roll up fairly compactly for storage in your pack.

Every backpacker should own one or two of these bags—and two bags give you both a large capacity and the option of carrying less weight when large capacity isn’t needed. There will come a day that you’ll need it—whether you like it or not.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these links to buy an MSR DromLite at cascadedesigns.com, or an MSR Dromedary at backcountry.com or cascadedesigns.com.

The Bear Vault BV500 Journey bear canister.
The Bear Vault BV500 Journey bear canister.

Bear Canister

A bear canister is required in an increasing number of public lands, among them California’s High Sierra (including the John Muir Trail, Yosemite, and Sequoia-Kings Canyon national parks) and in some campsites in Olympic and Grand Teton national parks.

A canister also provides convenient, infallible food storage anywhere.

Made from an impregnable, transparent polycarbonate, the Bear Vault BV500 Journey ($100, 3 gallons/700 c.i./11.5 L, 2 lbs. 9 oz./1.16 kg) stores up to a week’s worth of food for one person (with judicious packing). It has clear walls for finding items, is built to make it hard for a bear to grasp and damage with its jaws or claws, and has two tabs in the screw-top lid to provide redundant protection against a bear getting into it.

It has also earned the approval of both the Sierra Interagency Black Bear Group and the Interagency Grizzly Bear Committee.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking either of these affiliate links to purchase a Bear Vault BV500 Journey bear canister at rei.com.

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Ultralight Camera Carrier

As a photographer who likes to shoot people in motion outdoors and perfect light situations—circumstances that are often fleeting—I’ve long sought a way to carry my camera where I can instantly grab it and shoot. Well, I’ve found it. The Peak Design Capture ($80, 3 oz./84g) offers a method of carrying your camera where it’s secure, stable, and always within easy reach on a pack shoulder strap during activities like hiking. Unlike camera packs, with their zippers, when using the Capture, I simply depress a button to pull it off my pack’s shoulder strap, point, and shoot.

The Capture consists of a metal clip that attaches to any pack strap, belt, or bag via two screws you can turn with your fingers (no tool required), and an Arca tripod-compatible plate that screws into your camera’s base. At just three ounces/84 grams and measuring just 3.3×1.6×0.8 inches/8.3x4x2 centimeters, it’s virtually unnoticeable on a pack strap, yet can hold far more weight than you’ll ever attempt to attach to any pack (over 200 pounds/90 kilos, according to Peak Design).

I found it comfortable enough with my Nikon Z50 mirrorless DSLR and a 50-250mm zoom on it, but certainly less obtrusive with the smaller and lighter 16-50mm lens on the camera. Caveats: I found the Capture will twist slightly when not positioned well on a shoulder strap, causing one end of the metal back plate to dig into my shoulder. Also, the screws can loosen over multiple days of use; check it regularly to ensure those are tight (and your camera won’t suddenly drop to the ground—and mine did not).

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these affiliate links to purchase the Peak Design Capture at backcountry.com, peakdesign.com, or rei.com.

Nemo Airpin Ultralight Stakes
Nemo Airpin Ultralight Stakes

Tent Stakes

Bent stakes suck. Stakes should be extremely light and strong and never fail. Adhering to those simple truths, the Nemo Airpin Ultralight Stakes ($20, 1.4 oz./39.7g, set of four, or $10, 0.7 oz./19.8g, set of two) demonstrated their mettle (or metal, if you will) on various trips, including a six-day traverse of over 90 miles in Glacier National Park. Made of aircraft-grade 7075 aluminum, they have three notches in the head, two facing downward and one facing upward. Run the tent’s stake cord under the first downward notch (labeled “O”), then over the second, upward notch (“OO”), and finally under the other downward notch (“OOO”), creating friction on the cord as you drive the stake into the ground—which is easier thanks to the stake’s tapered shape. No more bent tent pegs or stake cord popping off stakes.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these links to purchase a set of four or two Nemo Airpin Ultralight Stakes at backcountry.com or nemoequipment.com.

Lightweight First-Aid Kit

Adventure Medical Kits Ultralight Watertight .9 Medical Kit
Adventure Medical Kits Ultralight Watertight .9 Medical Kit

A first-aid kit can seem like something that just adds bulk and weight to a pack without getting used—but when you really need one, you don’t want to be without it. The compact but well-designed Adventure Medical Kits Ultralight Watertight .9 Medical Kit ($64, 12 oz./340.2g) resolves questions of utility versus weight. Contained in two layers of waterproof packaging in this kit are various wraps and bandages, a trauma pad and wide elastic wraps, blister treatment, an irrigation syringe and wound closure strips, medications for diarrhea, stomach issues, pain, and inflammation, and, of course, a mini roll of duct tape. I suggest adding a small tube of antibiotic ointment, but otherwise, this is a complete first-aid kit that doesn’t occupy excessive pack space.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking this link to purchase an Adventure Medical Kits Ultralight Watertight .9 Medical Kit at rei.com.

The Kahtoola Renagaiter Low.
The Kahtoola Renagaiter Low.

Low Gaiters

For three-season backpacking—as well as dayhiking and trail running—low or mid-height gaiters (not high ones, like you’d use in winter) are indispensable for keeping stones, debris, rain, and splashed water from puddles and wet trailside vegetation out of your footwear.

The DWR-coated, very breathable, stretch-woven nylon and polyurethane Kahtoola Renagaiter Low ($54, 2.5 oz./70.9g) and Renagaiter Mid ($64, 3.3 oz./93.6g, both in two sizes), both available in two sizes, have become the low gaiters I grab for most outings. They easily zip over hiking shoes and boots, fitting snugly to protect against dirt, stones, debris, and water getting inside your shoes. Excellent breathability means they don’t make your feet sweat on hot days—as I’ve found on local trail runs and on a nine-day hike of about 130 miles through the High Sierra in August, mostly on the John Muir Trail and on mornings with wet vegetation overhanging trails on a weeklong September hike in Glacier National Park. The adjustable and tough DuraLink instep strap tucks into any shoe or boot lugs and its rounded shape prevents it snagging on rocks or roots; it also won’t get chewed up by rocks like some lighter nylon straps. While the Renagaiter Low is best for low-cut, lightweight shoes and the Mid for mid-cut boots, both adjust to fit a range of footwear, making them ideal for all backpacking, dayhiking, and trail-running uses.

I wore the Outdoor Research Ferrosi Hybrid Gaiters ($39, 2.5 oz./70.9g, two sizes) while trekking hut-to-hut for six days on Iceland’s Laugavegur and Fimmvörðuháls trails, when it rained for parts of almost every day and we hiked at times over muddy trail; while backpacking and dayhiking from a base camp for three days in the first week of April in Arizona’s Aravaipa Canyon, frequently walking in the shallow river and using the gaiters to keep stones and sand out of my boots; as well as hiking through wet trailside vegetation while backpacking in the Wind River Range and on local trail runs and hikes when wet snow covered the trails. Stretchy, breathable, wind- and water-resistant Ferrosi fabric kept my feet dry and is rated UPF 50+ for maximum UV protection. A tough, hypalon instep strap, hook-and-loop attachment for the shoe’s heel, and a drawcord cinch at the top hold the gaiters in place.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these links to purchase the Kahtoola Renagaiter Mid or Renagaiter Low at rei.com, or the Outdoor Research Ferrosi Hybrid Gaiters at backcountry.com or outdoorresearch.com.

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Helinox Chair Zero
Helinox Chair Zero

Camp Chair

Light and small enough to carry into the backcountry, the Helinox Chair Zero ($140, 1 lb. 1 oz./481.9g, not including 1-oz. stuff sack) will force you to ask yourself why you’d ever tolerate squatting on a rock or log in camp again. The chair consists of a fabric seat that slips over a shock-corded pole structure that forms the chair’s back and legs; and it assembles quickly, like a hubbed tent pole system.

The result is a comfortable seat that’s 20 inches wide, 19 inches deep, 25 inches tall, and whose bottom rises 11 inches above terra firma—unlike chair kits that, while less bulky, are often no lighter, and place your butt at ground level. It also, impressively, has a carrying capacity of 265 pounds/120.2 kilograms, although 200-pounders might find the chair a little tippy, and packs down to 14x4x4 inches, roughly the dimensions of a lightweight backpacking air mattress. Unless you’re ultralight backpacking or thru-hiking, having a comfortable chair in camp may seem well worth the effort of carrying 17 ounces/481.9 grams.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these affiliate links to purchase a Helinox Chair Zero at backcountry.com, or various Helinox chairs and other products at backcountry.com.

Want an even more comfortable camping chair? While too bulky and heavy for backpacking, the Helinox Sunset Chair ($170, 3 lbs. 8 oz.) will be the envy of your friends when car camping.

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Rhamani sandals.
Rhamani sandals.

Camp Shoes

I generally consider camp shoes superfluous weight: I often hike in low-cut shoe and just wear them like slippers in camp, with the laces quite loose and the tongue flipped up. But when I need or want footwear for backpacking campsites, water fords, and paddling trips, two different types of footwear have become my go-to picks, depending on the trip.

Allbirds Men's Wool Runners.
Allbirds Men’s Wool Runners.

For cooler backcountry trips, especially when hiking in midweight boots in wet climates, where I want warm, dry footwear in camp, I like the Allbirds Men’s Wool Runners ($110, 17 oz./481.9g, pair US men’s 10). For backpacking in the Wind River Range and elsewhere, on hut and yurt trips, and for river fords, these lightweight, packable, comfortable, warm shoes were perfect. The uppers and insoles are made from super fine Merino wool—keeping feet warm even if wet—and instead of the EVA foam traditionally used in footwear, Allbirds uses SweetFoam, made from sugarcane, and calls it “the world’s first carbon-negative green EVA.” Sizing runs small; buy up one full size in men’s and women’s models. Allbirds.com.

Rhamani sandals ($80, 14 oz./396.9g, pair US men’s 9) come in one style with multiple configurations, thanks to the removable heel and forefoot straps and retractable toe loop—and the strap system is secure enough that I took hikes from campsites, walking faint use trails and splashing through creeks, on a six-day backpacking trip in the Grand Canyon. The contoured footbed feels plush and the outsole grips well on a variety of ground surfaces—packed-dirt trails, pebbly riverbanks, scrambling on rocks. Best of all: They weigh about half of many sports sandals. Sizing is standard whole sizes. rhamani.com.

Sun Hat

On hot days from the Grand Canyon in spring and fall to the intense alpine sun in mountains like the High Sierra, I always wear a wide-brim hat to keep my squash from baking—which makes a big difference in how I feel over the course of hours hiking in such heat. But sun protection isn’t the only performance feature that matters.

The Patagonia Quandary Brimmer hat (left) in the Wind River Range.
Me (left) wearing the Patagonia Quandary Brimmer hat at Texas Pass in the Wind River Range with my friend Chip Roser.

In unusually strong winds that blew for three straight days in the Wind River Range, the Patagonia Quandary Brimmer wide-brim hat ($65, 4 oz./113g) stayed put on my head, keeping the alpine sun off it. The semi-rigid, wide brim completely shades your face and neck and resists getting flattened against the side of your head by strong gusts while also having enough flexibility to fold up for stuffing into a pack or exterior pocket. The toggle adjustment in the back enables a snug fit that, along with the adjustable chin strap, prevents the hat from taking flight in wind. The light, 96 percent recycled nylon fabric, breathable crown, and soft, wicking headband keep it comfortable in the heat.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking this affiliate link to purchase a Patagonia Quandary Brimmer hat at backcountry.com.

Windproof, Waterproof Emergency Matches

The UCO Titan Matches ($13, 3 oz./85g). will fire up in any downpour, no matter how wet. Each thick, four-inch-long match provides 25 seconds of wind and waterproof burning; they even relight after being submerged in water. The kit includes 12 matches, three replaceable strikers, a waterproof case that floats, and a cord that attaches to a lanyard.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking this link to purchase UCO Titan Matches at rei.com.

See also my recommended backpacking gear checklist and menus of all of my reviews of backpacks, backpacking boots, hiking shoes, tents, and sleeping bags. And don’t miss my picks for “The Best Backpacking Gear” of the year.

NOTE: I tested gear for Backpacker magazine for 20 years. At The Big Outside, I review only what I consider the best outdoor gear and apparel. See The Big Outside’s Gear Reviews page for categorized menus of all gear reviews and expert buying tips.

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Backpacking in the North Cascades—A Photo Gallery https://thebigoutsideblog.com/photo-gallery-hiking-and-backpacking-north-cascades-national-park/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/photo-gallery-hiking-and-backpacking-north-cascades-national-park/#comments Wed, 04 Mar 2026 10:00:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=12148 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

On my first trip to North Cascades National Park, I was sure I’d found heaven. The hard-earned views of a sea of jagged spires and snow- and ice-covered peaks stretching as far as you could see instantly cemented the place as one of my favorite mountain ranges. I’ve returned many times since, backpacking, dayhiking, climbing, ski mountaineering, including with my family.

But not many hikers and backpackers know much about Washington’s North Cascades, a region that includes one of America’s least-visited national parks and surrounding wilderness and national recreation areas that offer a rare combination of stunning beauty and solitude.

And the season for planning trips into the backcountry there is upon us.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


Glacier Peak looming above Image Lake in Washington's Glacier Peak Wilderness.
Glacier Peak looming above Image Lake in Washington’s Glacier Peak Wilderness.

The North Cascades National Park complex includes the park itself—nearly 700,000 acres, 93 percent of which is designated as the Stephen Mather Wilderness—as well as the adjoining Ross Lake and Lake Chelan national recreation areas. To the north and south of the park complex, within the broader North Cascades region, are the equally beautiful Pasayten, Glacier Peak, and Alpine Lakes wildernesses. Ecosystems range from virgin rainforest of giant cedars, hemlocks, and Douglas firs, to sub-alpine meadows carpeted in wildflowers, and alpine areas hosting about 60 percent of all the glaciers in the Lower 48. Everywhere, waterfalls pour down cliffs.

Few mountain ranges compare for the ruggedness, raw beauty, and remoteness and solitude of the North Cascades.

A backpacker near Park Creek Pass in North Cascades National Park.
Todd Arndt backpacking to Park Creek Pass in North Cascades National Park.

North Cascades National Park also has one of the most mind-blowing backcountry campsites in the country at Sahale Glacier camp (the top left image in the gallery below and one of my 25 best backcountry campsites ever).

Check out these photos and scroll past the gallery for links to stories at The Big Outside. I think it will persuade you to put this region and at least some of these trips high on your list.

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See all stories about backpacking in the North Cascades at The Big Outside, including “Primal Wild: Backpacking 80 Miles Through the North Cascades,” “Backpacking the Pasayten Wilderness—On and Off the Beaten Track,” and “Wild Heart of the Glacier Peak Wilderness: Backpacking the Spider Gap-Buck Creek Pass Loop.” Like most stories about trips at this blog, anyone can read much of those stories for free, but reading those stories completely, including expert tips on planning those trips, requires a paid subscription to The Big Outside.

I’ve helped many readers plan a trip in the North Cascades. See my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you plan any trip you read about at The Big Outside.

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7 Great Southwest Backpacking Trips for Beginners https://thebigoutsideblog.com/the-5-southwest-backpacking-trips-you-should-do-first/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/the-5-southwest-backpacking-trips-you-should-do-first/#comments Sun, 01 Mar 2026 10:05:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=24684 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

You want to explore the best backpacking in America’s desert Southwest, but you’re not sure where to begin, or how some of these trips you’ve read about compare for scenery and difficulty. You’ve heard about the need to carry huge loads of water, and environmental challenges like dangerous heat, rugged terrain, flash floods and even (gulp) quicksand. Or you want to take your kids and make sure you pick an appropriate trip for them. Or you’ve taken one or two backpacking trips there and now you’re hungry for another one and seeking ideas for where to go next.

Well, I gotcha covered. The seven trips described in this story comprise what might be called a Southwest Backpacking Starter Package. They are all beginner- and family-friendly in terms of trail or route quality, access, and navigability, and some have good water availability. But most importantly, regardless of their relative ease logistically, they all deliver the goods on the kind of adventure and scenery you go to the Southwest hoping to find.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A backpacker in The Narrows in Zion National Park.
David Gordon backpacking The Narrows in Zion National Park. Click photo for my e-book to backpacking the Narrows.

I draw this list from more than three decades of backpacking throughout the Southwest, including the 10 years I spent as the Northwest Editor of Backpacker magazine and much longer running this blog. I present these seven trips in no particular order of priority; in reality, competition for a backcountry permit will dictate when you’re able to take the most-popular ones, such as those in the Grand Canyon, Zion, and Canyonlands—and those are trips you need to plan months in advance to get a permit reservation for the prime seasons of spring and fall.

Learn more in my “10 Tips For Getting a Hard-to-Get National Park Backcountry Permit.”

See my expert e-books to several classic backpacking trips, including “The Complete Guide to Backpacking the Narrows in Zion National Park” and “The Best First Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon” and my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you plan any of these adventures or any trip you read about at The Big Outside; you’ll see hundreds of comments on that page from readers of this blog who have received my custom trip planning.

Like many stories at The Big Outside, this one is partly free for anyone to read, but seeing the full list of trips described below is an exclusive benefit for subscribers. Please consider subscribing to gain access to all stories at this blog and support my work on it.

Please share your comments, questions, or tips about any of these trips or another you believe belongs on this list in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

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A hiker near Skeleton Point on the South Kaibab Trail, Grand Canyon.
David Ports hiking the Grand Canyon’s South Kaibab Trail on a rim-to-rim dayhike. Click photo for my e-book “The Best First Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon.”

The Grand Canyon’s Corridor Trails

The Tonto Trail at Horn Creek in the Grand Canyon.
The Tonto Trail at Horn Creek in the Grand Canyon.

So many writers (including me) and other people have written and said so much about the Grand Canyon that it’s hard to find words that sound unique and inspiring to describe it. You won’t encounter that problem when actually going there, though—every hike is unique and inspiring.

But the very aspects of the GC that make it such a unique place—its severe topography and aridity—also ramp up the difficulty of any multi-day hike into the canyon.

That’s precisely why the park manages its “corridor” trails—the Bright Angel and South and North Kaibab trails—to accommodate backpackers (and dayhikers) will little to no experience hiking there.

Those well-maintained trails have established campgrounds and relatively frequent, reliable water sources, and offer a variety of route options, from an easy (by canyon standards) overnight trip to backpacking a full, rim-to-rim traverse of the canyon.

See all stories about hiking across the Grand Canyon and backpacking in the Grand Canyon at The Big Outside, including “How to Hike the Grand Canyon Rim to Rim in a Day,” “How to Get a Permit to Backpack in the Grand Canyon,” and “10 Epic Grand Canyon Backpacking Trips You Must Do,” plus my story about another relatively beginner-friendly GC hike, the 25-miler from Hermits Rest to Bright Angel Trailhead.

Get my expert e-books to backpacking the Grand Canyon rim to rim
and dayhiking the canyon rim to rim.

Big Spring in The Narrows, Zion National Park.
Big Spring in Zion’s Narrows. Click photo for “The Complete Guide to Backpacking the Narrows in Zion National Park.”

The Narrows in Zion

No surprise that Zion’s Narrows is one of the most sought-after backcountry permits in the National Park System. With sandstone walls that rise up to a thousand feet tall, the Narrows of the North Fork of the Virgin River in Zion squeezes down to just 20 to 30 feet across in places.

Day one in the upper Narrows, Zion National Park.
Day one in the Narrows, Zion National Park.

On this 16-mile, two-day hike, you’ll walk in the river most of the time—with the water coming up to thighs and hips in places—marveling at the constantly changing, towering walls, and oddities like a waterfall pouring from solid rock, creating an oasis of greenery clinging to a cliff.

I don’t want to understate the challenge—and it may not be a good choice for complete novices or young kids. Despite it being a very gradual descent for its entire distance, the Narrows can feel surprisingly strenuous because you’re walking much of the time on riverbed cobbles and in water.

The water and air temperature vary seasonally, and it can feel cool or downright cold, which saps energy over several hours. And there’s certainly flash-flood danger—don’t go without a forecast for sunny skies. But the park also closes the Narrows at times of flood hazard.

Still, this is one classic hike to get to whenever you can.

See my story “Luck of the Draw, Part 2: Backpacking Zion’s Narrows” (which includes tips on planning this trip, though not nearly as much detail as my e-book, linked above), and all stories about hiking and backpacking in southern Utah at The Big Outside.

Get my e-book “The Complete Guide to Backpacking Zion’s Narrows.”
And click here now to see all expert e-books at The Big Outside.

Hikers on the Chesler Park Trail, Needles District, Canyonlands National Park, Utah.
Hikers on the Chesler Park Trail, Needles District, Canyonlands National Park.

The Needles District in Canyonlands

Backpacking Squaw Canyon in the Needles District, Canyonlands National Park.
Backpacking Squaw Canyon in the Needles District, Canyonlands.

Multi-colored candlesticks of Cedar sandstone stand 300 feet tall, appearing ready to topple over with bulbous crowns wider than their base. Waves of rock ripple into the distance, looking like a petrified, burnt-red ocean. Stratified cliffs stretch for miles.

The Needles District of Canyonlands National Park holds the kind of geological formations that fascinate both kids and adults. It also has over 60 miles of trails zigzagging over a high plateau spliced by canyons.

But unlike big, deep canyons, most trails here don’t involve much elevation gain and loss. While water is scarce, you don’t have to hike great distances to reach backcountry campsites and explore. And established trails to Chesler Park, Big Spring, Squaw, and Lost canyons, and the Peekaboo Trail are easy to follow.

See my story “No Straight Lines: Backpacking and Hiking in Canyonlands and Arches National Parks,” and all stories about Canyonlands National Park at The Big Outside.

I can help you plan any trip you read about at my blog. Find out more here.

Father and son backpackers standing below Jacob Hamblin Arch in Coyote Gulch, Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument, Utah.
My son, Nate, then age 12, and me standing in Jacob Hamblin Arch in Coyote Gulch, Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument, Utah.

Coyote Gulch, Glen Canyon National Recreation Area

Backpackers in Utah's Coyote Gulch.
Backpackers in Utah’s Coyote Gulch.

On a three-day, roughly 15-mile backpacking trip through southern Utah’s Coyote Gulch with young teen and ‘tweener kids, my family and another hiked across ancient dunes hardened to rock; squeezed through a claustrophobically tight, 100-foot-long slot called Crack-in-the-Wall (not as hard as it sounds and quite fun); and stood atop a cliff overlooking a vast landscape of redrock towers and cliffs (photo at top of story), including Stevens Arch, measuring some 220 feet across and 160 feet tall.

And that was just in the first hour.

With its short distance, a reliable, perennial stream, and lack of flash-flood hazard, Coyote Gulch ranks as one of the Southwest’s most beginner-and family-friendly backpacking trips.

But that description, while true, almost diminishes the raw beauty of a hike that features a natural bridge, two of the region’s most distinctive natural arches—and one deeply overhung cliff with amazing echo acoustics.

In many ways, Coyote delivers a complete canyon-hiking experience—without the common hardships and hazards.

See my story “Playing the Memory Game in Southern Utah’s Escalante, Capitol Reef, and Bryce Canyon.”

Read all of this story and ALL stories at The Big Outside,
plus get a FREE e-book! Join now!

 

The Kolob Canyons Viewpoint in Zion National Park.
The Kolob Canyons Viewpoint in Zion National Park.

Zion’s Kolob Canyons and West Rim Trail

Backpacking Zion's West Rim Trail.
Backpacking Zion’s West Rim Trail.

Zion may lack the extensive trail network found in parks like Grand Canyon, Glacier, or Yosemite, but it does harbor a classic backpacking trip widely recognized as one of America’s best—The Narrows—and other trails that compete with it for I-can’t-believe-my-eyes panoramas.

Sheer red walls towering above the vibrant, green forest, plus easy hiking and the perennial La Verkin Creek made the Kolob Canyons an enjoyable overnight hike for my family when our kids were nine and six.

Our overnight on the West Rim Trail on the same trip was a bit harder—and we (the parents) had to carry extra water—but it was within our kids’ abilities; and the views from the West Rim of Zion Canyon and the maze of canyons and white-walled mesas dicing up the Zion backcountry look like something from another planet.

Road access to both areas of Zion, and local shuttle services, allow for short overnight hikes or longer outings that are ideal for beginners.

The more ambitious can make a north-south traverse from the Lee Pass Trailhead in the Kolob Canyons to Zion Canyon, about 40 miles, depending on how many side hikes one takes (such as the incomparable Zion must-do, Angels Landing).

See all stories about Zion National Park at The Big Outside, including “Pilgrimage Across Zion: Traversing a Land of Otherworldly Scenery” and “The 10 Best Hikes in Zion National Park.”

Hike all of “The 12 Best Backpacking Trips in the Southwest.”

Like this story? Check out “10 Perfect National Park Backpacking Trips for Beginners.”

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Hiking Half Dome: How to Do It Right and Get a Permit https://thebigoutsideblog.com/hiking-half-dome-how-to-do-it-right-and-get-a-permit/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/hiking-half-dome-how-to-do-it-right-and-get-a-permit/#comments Sat, 28 Feb 2026 10:00:04 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=44408 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

No hike in the country really compares with Yosemite’s Half Dome. The long, very strenuous, challenging, and incredibly scenic day trip to one of the most iconic and sought-after summits in America begins with ascending the Mist Trail through the shower constantly raining down from 317-foot Vernal Fall and below thunderous, 594-foot Nevada Fall. Climbing the cable route up several hundred feet of steep granite slab delivers a thrill that partly explains the hike’s enormous popularity.

The 8,800-foot summit of Half Dome—where many hikers complete the experience by standing on The Visor, a granite brim jutting out over Half Dome’s sheer, 2,000-foot Northwest Face—delivers an incomparable view of Yosemite Valley and a 360-degree panorama of a big swath of the park’s mountains.

Half Dome validates every step of effort you put into it.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A hiker atop Half Dome in Yosemite National Park.
Mark Fenton on The Visor or Half Dome, high above Yosemite Valley, in Yosemite National Park. Click photo to read about this backpacking trip.

Having been up and down those cables a handful of times over more than 30 years of dayhiking and backpacking all over the country—including many years running this blog and previously as the Northwest Editor of Backpacker magazine for 10 years—I consider Half Dome one of the very best dayhikes in the entire National Park System and certainly one of America’s hardest dayhikes.

The cables are up for hiking Half Dome usually from the Friday before Memorial Day through the Tuesday after Columbus Day, depending on conditions. A permit is required for this popular dayhike and a permit lottery takes place throughout March. For 2026, Yosemite is no longer requiring a reservation to drive into or through the park for parts of the year; see nps.gov/yose/planyourvisit/reservations.htm.

This story shares what I’ve learned about navigating the competitive permit system and embarking on a demanding day of hiking that’s roughly 16 miles round-trip with almost 5,000 feet of elevation gain and loss.

Please share your thoughts or questions about hiking Half Dome in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

Want to backpack in Yosemite?
See my e-books to three amazing multi-day hikes there.

Hikers on Half Dome's cable route in Yosemite National Park.
Hikers on Half Dome’s cable route in Yosemite National Park. Click photo for my e-book “The Best First Backpacking Trip in Yosemite.”

Enter the Dayhike Permit Lottery

Whether dayhiking Half Dome or hiking the cable route to its summit on a backpacking trip, advancing beyond the base of the sub-dome (below the sub-dome steps and the cables) on the Half Dome Trail requires a permit every day during the season when the cables are up. The park allows 300 hikers per day on the cable route: 225 dayhikers and 75 backpackers.

The dayhiking preseason permit lottery is held March 1-31 at recreation.gov/permits/234652, and results are announced on April 11. You can submit an application for up to six people (six individual permits) and for a range of dates, which improves your chances of success. You can only submit one application per lottery (i.e., only have your name as the permit holder or alternate permit holder on one application), and either the permit holder or alternate will have to show the permit to a ranger at the base of the sub-dome. People applying multiple times as permit holder or alternate will have all their lottery applications canceled. The cost is $10 to apply and $10 per person if you obtain a permit.

A daily permit lottery for dayhikers is held throughout the hiking season to issue permits that are unused or canceled. That’s held two days in advance of the hike date and you’ll receive notification of the permit the evening you apply (for example, you’d apply on a Thursday to hike that Saturday and get notified Thursday evening whether you received a permit).

Find more information at nps.gov/yose/planyourvisit/hdpermits.htm and apply for the permit at recreation.gov/permits/234652.

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A backpacker hiking up the Half Dome Trail in Yosemite National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm hiking Half Dome while on a backpacking trip. Click photo for my e-book “The Best Backpacking Trip in Yosemite.”

Backpack to Half Dome

Instead of seeking a dayhiking permit, you can include Half Dome on a multi-day backpacking permit. In Yosemite, wilderness permit reservations are issued based on trailhead quotas. Sixty percent of permit reservations are available by lottery at recreation.gov/permits/445859 beginning on the Sunday up to 24 weeks (168 days) in advance of the date you want to start hiking, with the lottery for each specific window of dates closing the following Saturday. The remaining 40 percent of permits are made available at recreation.gov/permits/445859 at 7 a.m. Pacific Time up to seven days in advance of a trip start date.

See “How to Get a Yosemite or High Sierra Wilderness Permit” and “How to Get a Last-Minute Yosemite Wilderness Permit Now.”

See also my expert e-books to three stellar, multi-day hikes in Yosemite, including “The Best First Backpacking Trip in Yosemite,” and “The Best Backpacking Trip in Yosemite,” both of which include Half Dome, and my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you identify and plan your Yosemite backpacking trip (including navigating the permit process). Find more info at nps.gov/yose/planyourvisit/wpres.htm.

I can help you plan this or any trip you read about at my blog. Find out more here.

Pick a Weekday in Spring or Fall

A hiker on Half Dome's cable route in Yosemite National Park.
Mark Fenton hiking Half Dome’s cable route in Yosemite.

Not surprisingly, Saturday ranks as the most popular day for which people seek a permit to dayhike Half Dome (18 percent of applicants), with Sunday second (16 percent) and Friday third (15 percent), according to statistics from Yosemite National Park. Apply to hike it on a Tuesday or Wednesday (12 percent) and you will greatly improve your odds of getting a permit compared to applying for a Saturday.

Similarly, permit application numbers are highest from mid-June through mid-September, so your chances of getting a permit are best midweek in late May and early June or late September and October.

See the charts at nps.gov/yose/planyourvisit/hdpermitsapps.htm.

The other good reasons for hiking in spring or fall include more moderate temperatures. Although spring can bring wetter weather, May and June are also when the waterfalls along the Mist Trail (and throughout Yosemite Valley) reach their most impressive peak runoff, whereas late summer and fall often deliver dry, pleasant weather.

Train Smartly

Dayhiking Half Dome from the usual starting point, the Happy Isles Trailhead in Yosemite Valley, entails about 16 miles round-trip with 4,800 feet of elevation gain and loss. That’s a serious day of hiking—one I’d rate as “extremely hard” in a chart that provides metrics for assessing a hike’s difficulty that you can find, along with other “hard” and “soft” measures, in my story “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”

Approaching a hike that hard casually can be a recipe for an unpleasant or worse experience. Train for it weeks in advance of the date, certainly by getting in some practice/training hikes, as well as following a regular training regimen. See my story “Training for a Big Hike or Mountain Climb.”

Read all of this story and ALL stories at The Big Outside,
plus get a FREE e-book. Join now!

A hiker on The Visor of Half Dome, above Yosemite Valley.
Todd Arndt on The Visor of Half Dome, above Yosemite Valley.

Hike Light

As with backpacking, traveling light when dayhiking helps you move faster and maintain your stamina longer, and a few pounds can make a difference. Your daypack’s weight matters and will mostly consist of food, water, and clothing layers, none of which you need to overpack.

Food weight will diminish over the day, of course, but there’s no need to pack much more than you intend to eat. Water is easy to refill along parts of the Mist Trail and most strategically at the Merced River on the JMT just above Nevada Fall, where you can top off your bladder or bottles before heading up to Half Dome and on the descent.

Wear lightweight, highly breathable hiking shoes that fit well and have a sticky outsole. See my picks for the best daypacks and hiking shoes and my “Pro Tips For Buying the Right Hiking Boots.”

Bring a hard-sided or collapsible filter bottle, like a Katadyn BeFree, which you can quickly refill when needed, and you can squeeze filtered water from a BeFree into a bladder. See my review of backpacking accessories and all water filter reviews at The Big Outside.

With a forecast for good weather, you can pack an ultralight shell jacket that’s more breathable, packable, and lighter than a rain jacket. See “The Best Ultralight Hiking and Backpacking Jackets,” all reviews of rain jackets at The Big Outside, and “5 Expert Tips for Buying a Rain Jacket for Hiking.”

I always use trekking poles on long hikes with substantial vertical gain and loss. See “The Best Trekking Poles,” “How to Choose Trekking Poles” and “The 10 Best Expert Tips for Hiking With Trekking Poles.”

Planning your next big adventure? See “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips
and “The 25 Best National Park Dayhikes.”

A backpacker on the John Muir Trail overlooking the Cathedral Range in Yosemite National Park.
Todd Arndt on the John Muir Trail overlooking the Cathedral Range in Yosemite National Park. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan a JMT thru-hike.

See my stories “The 12 Best Hikes in Yosemite,” “The Magic of Hiking to Yosemite’s Waterfalls,” and “Best of Yosemite: Backpacking South of Tuolumne Meadows” and all stories about Yosemite National Park at The Big Outside.

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The 10 Best Backpacking Packs of 2026 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/gear-review-the-10-best-packs-for-backpacking/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/gear-review-the-10-best-packs-for-backpacking/#comments Fri, 27 Feb 2026 10:05:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=16772 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Backpacks come in many sizes and designs for a reason: so do backpackers. Some of us need a pack for moderate loads, some for heavy loads, and others, increasingly, for lightweight or ultralight backpacking. Some prefer a minimalist pack, others a range of features and access. Everyone wants the best possible fit and comfort, and almost everyone has a budget. But no matter which type of backpacker you are, this review covers the best packs in each of those categories.

Each of my picks for the 10 best backpacking packs stands out for different reasons. I also point out two excellent packs for kids and small adults (at the bottom of the Gregory Paragon/Maven review). My judgments draw from many thousands of miles and more than three decades of backpacking and a quarter-century of testing and reviewing gear—including the 10 years I spent as the lead gear reviewer for Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog. Few reviewers have lugged as many packs around the backcountry as me.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A backpacker above Toxaway Lake, Sawtooth Mountains, Idaho.
Testing the Osprey Aura AG 65 in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains. Click photo to read about the best backpacking trip in the Sawtooths.

I’m confident at least one of these packs will be perfect for you—plus you’ll find the best prices for them through the affiliate links to online retailers below. Purchasing gear through my affiliate links supports my work on this blog. Thanks for doing that.

I’ve listed the pack reviews below in order by weight because that’s the metric that most defines and influences a pack’s design and functionality. The ratings admittedly tend to favor more-featured packs, which are heavier, and that may not meet your needs; use the ratings as a comparison with packs of similar weight. The pack you ultimately choose may depend partly on weight, but also on design and on your budget. Each pack review in this article links to that pack’s complete review at The Big Outside.

The Granite Gear Blaze 60 in the Grand Canyon.
Testing the Granite Gear Blaze 60 in the Grand Canyon. Click photo to read about “the best backpacking trip in the Grand Canyon.”

Not sure what type of pack you need? Start with my “5 Expert Tips For Buying the Right Backpacking Pack.” See also my picks for “The Best Ultralight Backpacks.”

The comparison chart below offers a quick look at stats and features that distinguish these packs from one another.

If you have a question for me or a comment on this review, please make it in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

Find your next adventure in your Inbox. Sign up for my FREE email newsletter now.

The 10 Best Backpacking Packs

BackpackScore (1-5)PriceVolumeWeightFeaturesSizesCarries Up To...
Hyperlite Mountain Gear Windrider4.3$39555L/3,400 c.i.1 lb. 15 oz./
878g
Waterproof, 5 pockets, highly durable4 unisex, not adjustable30-35 lbs./
13.6-15.9kg
Gregory Focal 58 and Facet 554$27058L/3,539 c.i.
55L/3,356 c.i.
2 lbs. 11 oz./
1.22kg (Focal 58)
7 pockets, poles attachment, ventilated suspension, removable lid3 men's and women's, not adjustable35 lbs./
15.9kg
Osprey Exos 58, Eja 584.2$28558L/3,539 c.i.2 lbs. 14 oz./
1.3kg (Exos 58)
6 pockets, poles attachment, ventilated suspension, removable lid2 men's and women's, adjustable35 lbs./
15.9kg
Deuter Aircontact Ultra 50+5 and 45+5 SL4$28555L/3,356 c.i.
50L/3,051 c.i.
2 lbs. 15 oz./
1.33kg
6 pockets, ventilated suspension, removable lid, gear loops2 unisex, adjustable35 lbs./
15.9kg
Granite Gear Perimeter 504.3$25050L/3,050 c.i.3 lbs. 3 oz./
1.45kg
Unique adjustable harness, removable lid, 8 pockets2 unisex and women's, adjustable40 lbs./
18.1kg
Granite Gear Blaze 604.7$30060L/3,660 c.i.3 lbs. 4 oz./
1.47kg
Versatile load capacity, 6 pockets, adjustable torso length and hipbelt, zipper accessing main compartment3 unisex and 2 women's, adjustable45+ lbs./
20.4kg
Mystery Ranch Radix 574.2$29957L/3,635 c.i.3 lbs. 11 oz./
1.67 kg
Zipper accessing main compartment; 6 pockets; removable frame, hipbelt, and wrap-around compression; poles attachment; highly durable4 men's and women's, adjustable 30+ lbs./
13.6 kg
Gregory Paragon 60 and Maven 584.2$30060L/3,661 c.i.
58L/3,539 c.i.
3 lbs. 12 oz./
1.7 kg (Paragon 60)
6 pockets, poles attachment, ventilated suspension, removable lid, Garmin device pocket2 men's and women's, adjustable35-40 lbs./
15.9kg-18.1kg
Osprey Atmos AG 65 and Aura AG 654.8$37065L/3,967 c.i.4 lbs. 11 oz./
2.13kg (Atmos AG 65)
Unique harness, 9 pockets, poles attachment, durable3 men's and women's, adjustable45-50 lbs./
20.4kg-22.7kg
Gregory Baltoro 65 and Deva 604.8$35065L/3,966 c.i.
60L/3,661 c.i.
4 lbs. 14 oz./
2.21kg (Baltoro 65)
Dynamic shoulder straps and hipbelt, ventilated back, zipper accessing main compartment, 9 pockets, highly durable3 men's and women's, adjustable50 lbs./
22.7kg
The Hyperlite Mountain Gear Windrider ultralight backpack.
The Hyperlite Mountain Gear Windrider ultralight backpack in the Beartooth Mountains.

Tough, Waterproof Ultralight

Hyperlite Mountain Gear Windrider
$395, 1 lb. 15 oz./879 g (55L)
hyperlitemountaingear.com

Hyperlite Mountain Gear Windrider front.
The Hyperlite Mountain Gear Windrider.

When the Windrider was delivered to my house, the box looked much too small to contain a backpack. Like the best sub-three-pound, ultralight packs, the Windrider handles 30 to 35 pounds well, but weighs anywhere from a half-pound to nearly a pound less than those competitors. It has the capacity for going several days between resupplies. Its tough Dyneema Composite Fabrics is fully waterproof. The fixed suspension comes in four sizes—more than offered by most high-end pack makers—and the simple harness system works.

Three big, external mesh pockets add nearly 10 liters of capacity, and the roomy, zippered hipbelt pockets offer convenience. A top-loader with a roll-top closure, the Windrider is noticeably bereft of features found on many other packs. But its minimalist design, durability, capacity, comfort, and low weight will appeal to many backpackers who prefer hiking over simply hauling.

The Hyperlite Mountain Gear Southwest ($395, 55L/3,400 c.i., 2 lbs., four sizes) is virtually identical to the Windrider except that it replaces the durable, tearproof mesh used in the external pockets with a more durable, Dyneema Hardline fabric—same as used in the zippered hipbelt pockets on both packs.

Read my complete review of the Hyperlite Mountain Gear Windrider.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking either of these affiliate links to purchase a Hyperlite Mountain Gear Windrider backpack at hyperlitemountaingear.com or a Hyperlite Mountain Gear Southwest backpack at hyperlitemountaingear.com.

Want an ultralight pack with more total capacity than the Windrider and seven external pockets, that weighs and costs less? See my review of the Gossamer Gear Mariposa 60.

Plan your next great backpacking trip in Yosemite, Grand Teton,
or other parks using my expert e-books.

The Gregory Focal 58 backpack in the Grand Canyon.
The Gregory Focal 58 backpack in the Grand Canyon.

Ultralight With Extras

Gregory Focal 58 and Facet 55
Gregory Focal 58 and Facet 55
$270, 2 lbs. 11 oz./1.22 kg (Focal 58)
gregorypacks.com

The Gregory Focal 58 front side.
The Gregory Focal 58.

Backpackers who are willing to accept a reasonable weight penalty for some organizational features of traditional backpacks and the support to carry up to 35 pounds will like the top-loading men’s Focal and women’s Facet. They sport six external pockets, including two on the hipbelt and a large, stretch-mesh front pocket, and useful features like good compression and attachments for trekking poles or an ice axe. And they’re made with recycled fabrics.

Gregory’s attention to comfort in its ultralight backpack is evident in the aluminum perimeter wire frame with a fiberglass cross-stay and an HDPE framesheet that lend the pack substantial rigidity, distributing most of the load across the hips. The tensioned, ventilated back panel allows air movement across your sweaty back. That support and comfort kept me smiling on strenuous days of hiking up to 12 miles with over 7,000 feet of cumulative elevation gain and loss—including seven very steep off-trail miles—backpacking for six days in the Grand Canyon. These are well-designed, comfortable packs for ultralighters who want some organizational features of traditional backpacks.

Read my complete review of the Gregory Focal 58 and Facet 55.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these affiliate links to purchase a men’s Gregory Focal 58 or Focal 48 at rei.combackcountry.com, or gregorypacks.com, or a women’s Gregory Facet 55 or Facet 45 at rei.combackcountry.com, or gregorypacks.com.

Planning your next big adventure? See “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips
and “Tent Flap With a View: 25 Favorite Backcountry Campsites.”

The Osprey Exos 58 ultralight backpack.
The Osprey Exos 58 on the John Muir Trail.

Ultralight Classic

Osprey Exos 58 and Eja 58
$285, 2 lbs. 14 oz./1.3 kg (Exos 58)
Exos 58: backcountry.com
Eja 58: osprey.com

The Osprey Exos 58 ultralight backpack.
The Osprey Exos 58 on the John Muir Trail.

On a nine-day, nearly 130-mile hike through the High Sierra, mostly on the John Muir Trail, I found the updated-for-2022 Exos 58 keeps what has made it a classic since 2008 while getting even better. Now with improved comfort, thanks to an adjustable suspension with a four-inch fit range, and made with 100 percent recycled materials, the Exos and Eja come in two torso sizes and three capacity sizes. As before, the LightWire perimeter frame carries 30 to 35 pounds comfortably, while the perforated-foam hipbelt and shoulder straps distribute that weight nicely. And the trampoline-style back panel provides great ventilation across your back.

Made a bit more durable through little design improvements, the redesigned Exos 58 and Eja 58 have the capacity for weeklong trips and ultralight thru-hiking. At under three pounds, they have smart features like a removable, floating lid with two pockets, spacious pockets on the front, sides, and hipbelt, Z-style side compression, and a handy trekking poles attachment on the left shoulder strap. The Exos and Eja also come in 48-liter ($240) and 38-liter ($220) versions.

Read my complete review of the Osprey Exos 58 and Eja 58.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these affiliate links to purchase any men’s Osprey Exos backpack at osprey.combackcountry.com, or rei.com, or any women’s Osprey Eja backpack at osprey.combackcountry.com, or rei.com.

See my review of another outstanding pack with the same price, weight, and basic design, though differences, the Gregory men’s Focal 58 and women’s Facet 55.

Be comfortable on your hikes. See “The Best Rain Jackets For Hiking and Backpacking.”

The Deuter Aircontact Ultra 50+5 ultralight backpack.
The Deuter Aircontact Ultra 50+5 ultralight backpack in the Grand Canyon.

Comfort and Low Weight

Deuter Aircontact Ultra 50+5
$285, 2 lbs. 15 oz./1.33 kg
backcountry.com

The Deuter Aircontact Ultra 50+5 harness.
The Deuter Aircontact Ultra 50+5 harness.

Among similar, mid-size, ultralight backpacking packs, Deuter’s Aircontact Ultra 50+5 distinguishes itself for the adjustable, comfortable fit and smart design details that make a difference in your experience carrying it. I found the Aircontact Ultra 50+5 comfortable with up to about 35 pounds inside on hikes of three days on southern Utah’s Owl and Fish canyons loop and six days on the Grand Canyon’s Gems Route—and I severely overloaded it on the first day of my Grand Canyon trip without it leaving me feeling destroyed, which says something.

Credit for its comfort and stability going up and down very steep, loose trails on both trips goes to a spring steel wire frame that balances slight flex with structural support, plus hipbelt fins and shoulder straps that rotate to absorb your body’s movement, steadying the pack while hiking. Spacer mesh in the back panel, lumbar pad, shoulder straps, and hipbelt deliver nice ventilation and cushioning. This top-loader fit my gear, food, and often extra water for six days in its spacious main compartment, augmented by six external pockets including a large stretch-mesh front pocket as well as side and hipbelt pockets. Light but reasonably tough, 175-denier polyamide fabric makes it as durable as many backpacking packs in this weight class.

Read my complete review of the Deuter Aircontact Ultra 50+5.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these affiliate links to purchase a Deuter Aircontact Ultra 50+5 backpack at backcountry.com, or any model in the Aircontact Ultra series at backcountry.com.

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Granite Gear Perimeter 50.
The Granite Gear Perimeter 50 in Yosemite.

Uniquely Adjustable Fit

Granite Gear Perimeter 50
$250, 3 lbs. 3 oz./1.4 kg
backcountry.com

Granite Gear Perimeter 50.
Granite Gear Perimeter 50.

When I loaded the Perimeter 50 with about 12 pounds of water on the first day of a 45-mile backpacking trip in Yosemite—bumping the pack’s weight over the 40 pounds that Granite Gear rates it to handle—I was pleasantly surprised at its comfort. That seems like a bonus for a backpack with a customizable fit and high functionality that carries a modest weight and price.

Granite Gear’s Perimeter series packs feature adjustability for both torso length and shoulder width, easily accomplished by resetting the position of a clip behind each shoulder strap. A spring steel rod lends the pack an ergonomic shape plus rigidity along the vertical axis and some horizontal flex, while a PE board cone disperses weight. A top-loader, it has eight external pockets, including a removable, floating lid pocket and a bottom zippered flap that can also carry a sleeping pad, and tough, Robic high-tenacity nylon fabric.

Read my complete review of the Granite Gear Perimeter 50.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these affiliate links to purchase a unisex or women’s Perimeter 50 at backcountry.com, or a unisex or women’s Perimeter 35 at backcountry.com.

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The Granite Gear Blaze 60 backpack in the Grand Canyon.
The Granite Gear Blaze 60 backpack in the Grand Canyon.

Most Versatile

Granite Gear Blaze 60
$300, 3 lbs. 4 oz./1.47 kg
backcountry.com

The Granite Gear Blaze 60.
The Granite Gear Blaze 60.

How many pounds can a lightweight backpack carry comfortably? At just a half-pound heavier than some ultralight packs, the Blaze 60 hauled 40 pounds comfortably on a rugged, six-day, 74-mile backpacking trip through the Grand Canyon, and up to 35 pounds on a four-day, more than 40-mile backpacking trip that crossed four passes near and over 11,000 feet in the Wind River Range.

The Air Current framesheet flexes slightly, allowing the pack to move with your torso, especially in steep or difficult terrain. The ventilated back panel fits closely but has channels for air circulation and the Re-Fit hipbelt felt great even on long, arduous days. It has the capacity and support for long trips and the compression and low weight for short trips, plus super access with a wide top-loading mouth, a zipper into the main compartment, and six external pockets. It comes in three unisex and two women’s sizes, all adjustable, and the fabric is bombproof. The Blaze 60 ranks among the top all-purpose backpacks.

Read my complete review of the Granite Gear Blaze 60.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these affiliate links to purchase a men’s Granite Gear Blaze 60 backpack at backcountry.com, or a women’s-specific Granite Gear Blaze 60 backpack at backcountry.com.

Hike all of “The 10 Best Backpacking Trips in the Southwest.”

The Mystery Ranch Radix 57 on New Zealand's Routeburn Track.
The Mystery Ranch Radix 57 on New Zealand’s Routeburn Track.

Excellent Fit, Features, and Durability

Mystery Ranch Radix 57
$299, 3 lbs. 11 oz./1.67 kg
backcountry.com

The Mystery Ranch Radix 57 front.
The Mystery Ranch Radix 57 front.

With the Radix 57, Mystery Ranch asks backpackers: How light is just right? I pondered that question carrying the Radix 57 on backpacking trips in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains, southern Utah’s Buckskin Gulch and Paria Canyon, and two classic New Zealand hut treks, the Routeburn Track and the Milford Track, and found much to like and a couple of quibbles.

Mystery Ranch prioritized fit, features and functionality in a design that seems a hybrid of traditional bigger and ultralight packs, including six external pockets; zippered access to the main compartment; wrap-around compression that’s removable if needing repair; attachments for trekking poles or ice axe; a removable 7000 series aluminum frame and hipbelt; highly durable materials and construction; plus an unusually big range of four adjustable sizes each in men’s and women’s packs. On the downside, I found the hipbelt’s comfort limit was just a bit over 30 pounds—which seems low for a pack this heavy.

Read my complete review of the Mystery Ranch Radix 57.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these affiliate links to purchase a men’s or women’s Mystery Ranch Radix 57, Radix 47, or Radix 31 at backcountry.com or rei.com.

Score a popular permit using my
10 Tips For Getting a Hard-to-Get National Park Backcountry Permit.”

The Gregory Paragon 60 in the Grand Canyon.
The Gregory Paragon 60 in the Grand Canyon.

Quiver of One Backpack

Gregory Paragon 60 and Maven 58
$300, 3 lbs. 12 oz./1.7 kg (Paragon 60)
Paragon 60: backcountry.com
Maven 58: backcountry.com

The Gregory Paragon 60.
The Gregory Paragon 60 harness.

When Gregory rolled out the 2025 update of these popular packs, I took the Paragon 60 on a four-day, 40-mile walk in the Grand Canyon that included humping up the brutally steep Boucher Trail—which convinced me that the fully featured Paragon 60 and women’s Maven 58 still offer everything that many backpackers want for every kind of trip they take.

These packs have support for carrying at least 35 to 40 pounds comfortably, thanks to an alloy steel perimeter frame with a fiberglass cross-stay and Gregory’s cushy FreeFloat Suspension System. Adjustable for torso length in two sizes, both have Gregory’s Air-Cushion mesh back panel, consisting of 90 percent air, which helped cool my back on hot afternoons in the Grand Canyon. Their excellent organization includes a zipper providing access to the main compartment, six external pockets—and new for 2025, a stretch-mesh pocket on the left shoulder strap that’s sized to hold a Garmin inReach Mini or inReach Messenger device.

Read my complete review of the Gregory Paragon 60 and Maven 58.

BUY IT NOW  You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these affiliate links to purchase a men’s Paragon 60 at backcountry.com, gregory.com, or rei.com, or a women’s Maven 58 at backcountry.com, gregory.com, or rei.com. And see all Paragon models at backcountry.com, gregory.com, or rei.com, or all Maven models at backcountry.com, gregory.com, or rei.com.

Need a pack for a kid or small adult? See my reviews of the Gregory Wander 70 and the Osprey Ace 38, 50, and 75.

Get the right tent for you. See “The 10 Best Backpacking Tents
and my “5 Tips For Buying a Backpacking Tent.”

The 10 Best Backpacking Packs
The Osprey Atmos AG 65 at Maze Overlook in the Maze District of Canyonlands National Park.

Ultimate  Comfort

Osprey Atmos AG 65 harness.
Osprey Atmos AG 65 harness.

Osprey Atmos AG 65 and Aura AG 65
$370, 4 lbs. 11 oz./2.1 kg (Atmos AG 65)
Atmos AG 65: ospreypacks.com
Aura AG 65: ospreypacks.com

These packs feel very different, in a good way, the first time you put one on, and that positive first impression bore out as I carried the Atmos AG 65 on a five-day hike in The Maze District of Canyonlands National Park, when I was often carrying 8.5 to 14.5 pounds (four to seven liters) of water; on a four-day family hike (bearing some of my family’s gear and food weight) on the Rockwall Trail in Canada’s Kootenay National Park; and on two treks in New Zealand’s Fiordland National Park as well as other backpacking trips. The Anti-Gravity suspension feels more like putting on a jacket than a backpack. Consisting of a panel of lightweight, tensioned mesh extending from the top of the back panel to the hipbelt, it fully wraps around your back and hips while delivering ample air movement.

Adjustable for fit, including the hipbelt, they carry 45 to 50 pounds with supreme comfort and come loaded with features like nine pockets, a convenient trekking poles attachment on the left shoulder strap, and an integrated cover panel to replace the removable lid. Weighing well under five pounds, they’re a great choice for backpackers who usually carry moderate to heavy loads.

Read my complete review of the Osprey men’s Atmos AG 65 and women’s Aura AG 65.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these affiliate links to buy any model of the men’s Osprey Atmos AG at ospreypacks.com or rei.com, or any model of the women’s Aura AG at ospreypacks.com, backcountry.com, or rei.com.

Get the right daypack for your hikes. See my review of “The 10 Best Hiking Daypacks.”

Gregory Baltoro 65 backpack.
Testing the Gregory Baltoro 65 backpack.

Excels for Big Loads

Gregory Baltoro 65 and Deva 60
$350, 4 lbs. 14 oz./2.2 kg (Baltoro 65)
Baltoro 65: rei.com
Deva 60: rei.com

Gregory Baltoro 65 backpack.
The Gregory Baltoro 65 backpack.

For carrying loads of 50 pounds or more, I want a pack that’s supportive, comfortable, and tricked out. In every respect, the men’s Baltoro and women’s Deva packs have long filled the big-pack role extremely well, and trips in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains and on the Teton Crest Trail demonstrated that the latest versions of these two packs are only better.

The Baltoro’s and Deva’s FreeFloat suspension system, updated in 2022, has 3D mesh and a foam-free design that improves air flow across your back; more adjustability in the torso length (in three sizes for men and women), shoulder harnesses, and hipbelt (and the latter two pivot independently, enhancing comfort); enlarged hipbelt pockets; an attachment for a bear spray holster; and a lighter carbon footprint with 31 percent less plastic. And the high-strength aluminum perimeter frame delivers serious support.

Features include a U-shaped zipper that opens up the entire main compartment; nine very functional external pockets; widely adjustable compression straps that cross over the pack bag; and attachments for sunglasses, trekking poles, and ice axes.

Read my complete review of the Gregory Baltoro 65 and Deva 60.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these affiliate links to buy a Gregory Baltoro 65 at gregory.com or rei.com; a Gregory Deva 60 at gregory.com or rei.com; or larger versions of the Baltoro at gregory.com or rei.com or the Deva at gregory.com or rei.com.

See my “5 Tips For Buying the Right Backpack,” “Video: How to Load a Backpack,” all of my reviews of backpacks at The Big Outside.

And don’t miss my popular reviews of “25 Essential Backpacking Gear Accessories” and “The Best Backpacking Gear” of the year, and avoid leaving anything important behind by using “An Essentials-Only Backpacking Gear Checklist.”


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Whether you’re a beginner or seasoned backpacker, you’ll learn new tricks for making all of your trips go better in my “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” “A Practical Guide to Lightweight and Ultralight Backpacking,” and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.” With a paid subscription to The Big Outside, you can read all of those three stories for free; if you don’t have a subscription, you can download the e-book versions of “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” the lightweight backpacking guide, and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”

NOTE: I tested gear for Backpacker magazine for 20 years. At The Big Outside, I review only what I consider the best outdoor gear and apparel. See The Big Outside’s Gear Reviews page for categorized menus of all gear reviews and expert buying tips.

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The Best Ultralight Hiking and Running Jackets of 2026 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/the-best-ultralight-hiking-and-backpacking-jackets-of-2018/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/the-best-ultralight-hiking-and-backpacking-jackets-of-2018/#comments Thu, 19 Feb 2026 10:00:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=27175 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

You’re out on an all-day hike or a long climb or trail run or ride in the mountains. The weather forecast looked pretty good before you set out—but no one shared that memo with the wind that just started hammering your summit ridge, or the spitting rain and hail now pelting you as you contemplate the sudden drop in temperature and the miles between you and shelter. The question now is: What’s in your pack?

If you’re smart, it’s an ultralight jacket that takes up little space, but is about to gift you with just the right amount of weather protection when you need it.

This article offers my expert tips on how to choose the best ultralight shell for your needs, followed by my freshly updated picks for the best models on the market today, based on real-world, backcountry field testing and my 30 years of experience reviewing outdoor gear and apparel, including more than 10 years running this blog and previously the lead gear reviewer for Backpacker magazine for 10 years.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


The Outdoor Research Shadow Wind Hoodie.
The Outdoor Research Shadow Wind Hoodie.

Ultralight Jackets Explained

What is an ultralight shell jacket? There’s no consensus definition, and considerable variation among today’s models. But basically, the term “ultralight jacket” explains their primary advantage: They weigh under about 10 ounces—and some a fraction of that—and are very packable, often stuffing down to the size of a fist. In other words, they are usually less than half the weight and bulk of a standard waterproof-breathable jacket. While a few may be partly or even fully waterproof, many are water-resistant and windproof, providing a minimum level of protection from the elements.

While these jackets, also known as ultralight wind shells, are marketed primarily to runners, they are often a better choice than a heavier, bulkier rain jacket for dayhikers, climbers, and lightweight/ultralight backpackers who don’t expect to encounter heavy rain. I’ve used many of the models reviewed here for lightweight dayhikes and some of the more durable models for backpacking and climbing when the forecast threatened no more than light showers.

Although they certainly look very minimalist, they deliver all the protection you need from wind and light rain—the conditions many of us often encounter far more often than full-on storms. Some of them are partly or fully waterproof-breathable, and kept me dry in steady rain; but they lack the full hood coverage, features, and degree of waterproofing that a heavier rain jacket provides, and I don’t recommend ultralight jackets for hours or days of sustained rain.

The truth is, because standard, heavier, waterproof-breathable shells are, by definition, not as breathable as shells that are simply water-resistant, they are not the best choice for activities where you sweat a lot, like running or rigorous uphill hiking with a pack on, because they often cause you to get soaked from perspiration. Waterproof-breathable shells have their place, for sure. But they are heavier, bulkier, and more expensive than an ultralight jacket, in addition to being generally less useful in the situations we commonly encounter in the backcountry.

The Mountain Hardwear Kor Airshell Hoody.
The Mountain Hardwear Kor Airshell Hoody.

The notion seems counterintuitive, but it’s possible to have too much of a jacket. If you rarely pull on a rain jacket because it’s too much for most circumstances you encounter, then you need an ultralight jacket.

Whether you’re a dayhiker, backpacker, ultra-hiker, runner, or climber, when you choose the right ultralight shell for your activity and climate, it will probably become the jacket you grab and actually wear most often—and possibly the most versatile piece of outerwear you own, useful in a layering system tailored to any season and multiple outdoor sports.

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How to Choose an Ultralight Jacket

While many ultralight shells are similar in appearance and weight, they can vary significantly in functionality.

Simply put, the best ultralight jackets for trail running may be different from the best models for cool-weather hiking, climbing, or ultralight backpacking, and your choice will also depend on the typical weather you encounter.

The Rab Downpour Light Waterproof Jacket.
The Rab Downpour Light Waterproof Jacket.

Here’s what to look for:

Breathability vs. weather resistance. Ultralight jackets generally trade off fully waterproof protection for better breathability. However, models in this category can vary greatly in how each balances breathability and wind protection, and some have partially or completely waterproof fabrics while remaining ultralight and packable. But “waterproof” in an ultralight jacket doesn’t generally equal the protection of a two-layer or three-layer, heavier waterproof-breathable jacket (like Gore-Tex); sustained hard rain can cause it to wet through.

Hybrid vs. uniform shell. “Hybrid” in this context refers to the shell blending some fully waterproof-breathable fabric—usually in the shoulders, torso, and hood—with more breathable, non-waterproof fabric in the sides and underarms, allowing the jacket to release body heat and moisture in areas not likely to receive much direct precipitation. These jackets are versatile for a wide range of conditions and activity levels. By “uniform” shell, I mean either a water-resistant soft-shell fabric or a waterproof-breathable fabric—but one or the other, not a hybrid combination of both.

Insulated or not. While it’s not usually the case, ultralight jackets occasionally feature a light amount of strategically placed insulation—typically in the torso—making them more of a cool-weather, fall through spring garment, but also versatile for everything from climbing bigger mountains in summer to aerobic activities like running, Nordic skiing, or hiking and snowshoeing in winter.

Hood or no hood. For the most part, I find a simple, uninsulated shell hood almost essential in an ultralight jacket—it provides a noticeable boost in warmth and weather protection at very little cost in terms of weight, bulk, or dollars. Many ultralight shells, but not all, have a hood or a hooded version, and this comes down to personal preference as well as typical usage: If you need a shell simply for local runs of an hour or two in wind or cool temps, with a chance of a light shower, you may not need a hood. If you’re heading into the mountains for hours or days, you probably want a hood.

The Best Ultralight Jackets

I’ve listed the following jackets in order from lightest to heaviest.

My advice: Look at each of the reviews below to narrow your choices to the two or three that sound best for your needs, and then go to the complete reviews of those jackets to help you make your pick. You will support my work on this blog by purchasing any of these jackets through the affiliate links provided here or in the complete reviews, at no cost to you; in fact, you’ll usually find the best prices at those links. Thanks for doing that.

I encourage you to share your thoughts and experiences with any of these jackets, or another ultralight shell that you like, in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

Stay dry, happy, and safe. See my “5 Expert Tips For Buying a Rain Jacket for Hiking
and all reviews of rain jackets at The Big Outside.

 

JacketScorePriceWeightWeather ProtectionBreathabilityPackabilityDurabilityWeight-to-Performance
Black Diamond Distance Wind Shell4.4$1993.5 oz./
99.2g
3.5553.55
Mountain Hardwear Kor Airshell Hoody4.4$1655.1 oz./
145g
3.55544.5
Outdoor Research Shadow Wind Hoodie4.2$1405.8 oz./
164.4g
3.54.5445
Outdoor Research Helium Rain Jacket4.4$170-$1806 oz./
170.1g
4454.54.5
Rab Downpour Light Waterproof Jacket4.1$1657.7 oz./
219g
444.544
Arc’teryx Atom SL Hoody4$2809 oz./
255g
44444
The Black Diamond Distance Wind Shell in Spain's Picos de Europa Mountains.
The Black Diamond Distance Wind Shell.

Black Diamond Distance Wind Shell
Why it’s special: Lightest and most packable protection from wind and light rain.
$199, 3.5 oz./99.2g (men’s medium)
blackdiamondequipment.com

The more I wore the Black Diamond Distance Wind Shell—the lightest and most packable hooded shell in this review—the more I liked and used it. Those outings ranged widely, including running the Grand Canyon 42 miles rim to rim to rim in one day in early October, a five-day June trek through Spain’s Picos de Europa Mountains, a September weekend of rock climbing in cool temps and gusty wind at Idaho’s City of Rocks, and mountain biking through a sudden downpour. And not only does this shell perform well, but it may be the greenest ultralight wind shell on the market.

The Distance Wind Shell has a basic suite of features found in other ultralight shells: It stuffs easily into its one zippered chest pocket, packing down tosmaller than a baseball, and has elasticized cuffs, an adjustable hem, and an adjustable, helmet-compatible hood. But it replaces a traditional DWR (durable, water-resistant) fabric treatment with a PFC-free, water-repellent finish that gets permanently hyper-fused to the fabric fibers, making it more durable and greener than DWRs. Best of all, of course, its breathability and weather resistance compare with the best in this category.

See my complete review of the Black Diamond Distance Wind Shell.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these affiliate links to purchase a men’s or women’s Black Diamond Distance Wind Shell at backcountry.com or blackdiamondequipment.com.

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The Mountain Hardwear Kor Airshell Hoody.
The Mountain Hardwear Kor Airshell Hoody.

Mountain Hardwear Kor Airshell Hoody
Why it’s special: Great balance of high breathability, low weight, packability, weather resistance, and durability.
$165, 5.1 oz./145g (men’s medium)
backcountry.com

After sweating hard on a hot and humid June morning hiking up the brutally steep headwall of Huntington Ravine on Mount Washington, we hit the cool wind in the mountain’s alpine terrain—so I pulled on my Kor Airshell Hoody and it tamed that wind while breathing so well that the wet sun shirt against my skin dried out quickly. And that pattern of sweating and hitting wind continued throughout that two-day hut trek in New Hampshire’s Presidential Range.

A midweight ultralight wind shell at a hair over five ounces,the highly packable Kor Airshell Hoody balances its two superpowers of low weight and excellent breathability with respectable weather resistance and durability, as I also found wearing it running hilly trails and hiking from the Boise Foothills to early spring backpacking trips on a section of the Arizona Trail and in Arizona’s Aravaipa Canyon. Besides its breathability, the ultralight, recycled, 20-denier Pertex Quantum Air ripstop nylon fabric lends the Kor better durability than the lightest ultralight shells.

With a comfortable fit and soft fabric, an elasticized hood with a low-profile brim that provides decent coverage, elasticized hem and cuffs, and two zippered hand pockets—more than found on many competitors—it’s a great choice for dayhikers, trail runners, climbers, and others who mostly need good breathability but may encounter a range of weather conditions short of sustained, hard rain.

See my complete review of the Mountain Hardwear Kor Airshell Hoody.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking either of these affiliate links to purchase a men’s or women’s Mountain Hardwear Kor Airshell Hoody at backcountry.com or rei.com.

I’ve helped many readers plan unforgettable backpacking and hiking trips.
Want my help with yours? Click here now.

The Outdoor Research Shadow Wind Hoodie.
The Outdoor Research Shadow Wind Hoodie.

Outdoor Research Shadow Wind Hoodie
Why it’s special: Combo of high breathability and comfort, weather resistance, packability, and durability.
$140, 5.8 oz./164.4g (men’s medium)
backcountry.com

We expect a lot of our ultralight wind shells: We want them to breathe well when we’re hiking or running uphill while, of course, blocking the wind effectively—and feel good. On trail runs, dayhikes, and a backpacking trip from southern Utah’s canyon country in spring to the mountains of Southwest Idaho, in a wide range of weather that challenges any outer layer to keep you comfortable, the Shadow Wind Hoodie did just that quite well.

The Shadow’s distinguishing component is its lightweight but durable, 20-denier, stretch-woven fabric: Impressively breathable and resistant to light precipitation, it feels softer against skin than most ultralight shells—especially the lightest out there, which can feel a bit like a plastic petroleum product.

But it offers so much more, too. The trim fit provides space for a couple of base layers plus light insulation and very good stretch lets this jacket move with you—great for hiking, running, climbing, and other activities. The close-fitting, under-the-helmet hood is adjustable—uncommon in an ultralight shell—protects your face well and stows inside the collar. The Shadow also has three zippered pockets. Just an ounce or two heavier than the lightest hooded wind shells, it stuffs inside the chest pocket to about the size of a softball.

See my complete review of the Outdoor Research Shadow Wind Hoodie.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these affiliate links to purchase a men’s or women’s Outdoor Research Helium Wind Hoodie at backcountry.com, rei.com, or outdoorresearch.com.

Get the right pack for you. See “The 10 Best Backpacking Packs
and the “The 10 Best Hiking Daypacks.”

The Outdoor Research Helium II Jacket.
The Outdoor Research Helium II Jacket.

Outdoor Research Helium Rain Jacket
Why it’s special: Very light and packable waterproof-breathable shell.
$170, 6 oz./170.1g (men’s medium), $180, 6 oz. (women’s medium)
backcountry.com

In the world of waterproof-breathable outerwear, the Outdoor Research Helium Rain Jacket pushes the extreme low end in weight and packability—very appealing to hikers, ultralight backpackers, and trail runners. I’ve worn this six-ounce hooded shell on trail runs and hikes in my local foothills, in weather ranging from biting wind and temps in the 30s to heavily falling, wet snow for over two hours. I also wore it at times on an early September, five-day backpacking trip on the Wonderland Trail in Mount Rainier National Park, where it fended off heavy mist and cool winds, and through cold wind and some light rain showers on a five-day hike in The Maze District of Canyonlands National Park in early March—and for trips with no serious rain in the forecast, it saved me from carrying twice the weight and bulk in a standard rain jacket.

Constructed from 30-denier ripstop nylon, waterproof-breathable Pertex Shield, it employs Diamond Fuse technology, which uses yarns with diamond-shaped filaments that lock together, lending it relatively good durability and snag-resistance for a fabric this light. It fought off dumping wet snow while I ran and hiked and didn’t build up too much moisture inside; but breathability is not exceptional. It has an adjustable hood, comfortable fit, and one zippered chest pocket that the shell stuffs inside. For anyone needing a just-in-case ultralight shell for wind and rain, the Outdoor Research Helium Rain Jacket delivers waterproof protection in a compact package at a good value for its performance and low weight.

See my complete review of the Outdoor Research Helium Rain Jacket.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these affiliate links to purchase a men’s Helium Jacket at backcountry.com or rei.com, or a women’s Helium Rain Jacket at backcountry.com or rei.com.

Which puffy should you buy? See “The 12 Best Down Jackets” and
How You Can Tell How Warm a Down Jacket Is.

The Rab Men’s Downpour Light Waterproof Jacket.
The Rab Men’s Downpour Light Waterproof Jacket.

Rab Downpour Light Waterproof Jacket
Why it’s special: Lightweight and packable waterproof-breathable shell.
$165, 7.7 oz./219g (men’s medium)
backcountry.com

This ultralight rain shell kept me dry while backpacking through wind-driven rain and hail in a thunderstorm on the Continental Divide Trail in Colorado’s San Juan Mountains. At just 7.7 ounces/219 grams and packing down to the size of a softball, it was also a perfect choice for wind protection and just in case of rain (which only fell early one morning, before we got up) while backpacking the Grand Canyon’s Gems Route.

Rab’s 20-denier, 2.5-layer Proflex stretch-woven waterproof nylon fabric also breathes well, and the adjustable hood offers decent face protection. If you generally avoid severe weather, the Downpour Light delivers all the protection you need in a lighter, more packable design that’s far less expensive than that high-end rain shell that’s overbuilt for your needs.

See my complete review of the Rab Downpour Light Waterproof Jacket.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking either of these affiliate links to purchase a Rab Downpour Light Waterproof Jacket at backcountry.com or rei.com.

Planning your next big adventure? See “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips
and “The 25 Best National Park Dayhikes.”

Arc’teryx Atom SL Hoody
Why it’s special: Warmest ultralight jacket with good weather resistance and breathability.
$280, 9 oz./255g (men’s medium)
rei.com

Arc’teryx Atom SL Hoody
Arc’teryx Atom SL Hoody.

The warmest and only insulated shell in this review, the Atom SL Hoody has been a go-to piece for me in situations as varied as backpacking in August in Canada’s Kootenay National Park and in October in Idaho’s White Cloud Mountains; scrambling a 10,000-foot peak in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains and hiking to the very windy summit of 10,243-foot Mount Washburn in Yellowstone National Park in September; and numerous times Nordic skate-skiing in temps in the 20s and 30s.

Essentially an ultralight wind shell with some strategically placed insulation, it delivers just enough warmth for being active in cool temps without causing you to overheat. Credit the fleece under the arms and 40 grams of insulation in the torso, but no insulation in the hood or on the outside of the sleeves, where there’s just windproof shell fabric that breathes reasonably well. Arc’teryx’s Coreloft synthetic insulation is very compressible, retains heat when wet, and dries quickly. The adjustable hood stays put on your head, with or without a helmet. Whether I was standing on a windblown 10,000-footer, carrying a backpack through the mountains in conditions that shifted frequently between warm sunshine and overcast with cold wind, or perspiring profusely while skate-skiing, the Atom SL keep me warm but didn’t make me too hot. It’s ideal for cool to cold temps or anyone who gets cold easily in moderate temperatures.

See my complete review of the Arc’teryx Atom SL Hoody.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking either of these affiliate links to purchase a men’s Arc’teryx Atom SL Hoody at rei.com or arcteryx.com.

See all trail-running gear reviews and outdoor apparel reviews at The Big Outside.

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10 Expert Tips for Hiking With Trekking Poles https://thebigoutsideblog.com/the-10-best-expert-tips-for-hiking-with-trekking-poles/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/the-10-best-expert-tips-for-hiking-with-trekking-poles/#comments Tue, 17 Feb 2026 10:00:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=38338 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

If you’ve opened this story, you probably already recognize this truth: For backpackers, dayhikers, climbers, mountain runners, and others, trekking poles noticeably reduce strain, fatigue, and impact on leg muscles and joints, feet, back—and really on your entire body. And that’s true no matter how much weight you’re carrying, whether a daypack, an ultralight backpack, or a woefully heavy backpack.

But if you’ve opened this story, you also probably already have a sense of this often-overlooked truth: How you use poles matters. If you use them correctly, you’re gaining their benefits on virtually every step of your hike; if not, they become dead weight. This story provides 10 highly effective tips on using poles, from basics like adjusting pole length, gripping the strap, and moving uphill and downhill on trails, to managing steep terrain, fording streams, advanced tips for aiding balance, and more.

The tips below are based on my experience of many thousands of trail miles and more than three decades of backpacking, dayhiking, climbing, trail running, and taking ultra-hikes and ultra-runs—plus a quarter-century of testing and reviewing gear as a past field editor for Backpacker magazine and for many years running this blog. I believe this story will give you expert tips on hiking with trekking poles that you will not find anywhere else.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A backpacker on the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking the Teton Crest Trail n Grand Teton National Park. Click photo for my e-book “The Complete Guide to Backpacking the Teton Crest Trail.”

With practice, using trekking poles can become so second-nature that you don’t have to think about what you’re doing—your body works on muscle memory, and your pole plants and movement become more efficient and effective. Mountain runners can even get skilled at rapidly swinging poles to assist with balance and braking when running trails downhill.

See my picks for “The Best Trekking Poles” and my story “How to Choose Trekking Poles.”

Tell me what you think of my tips, ask any questions, or share your own tips in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments. And click on any photo to learn about that trip.

Ready for new poles? See my picks for “The Best Trekking Poles.”

A backpacker on the Redgap Pass Trail in Glacier National Park.
Todd Arndt backpacking the Redgap Pass Trail in Glacier National Park. Click photo to see all stories about backpacking in Glacier at The Big Outside.

#1 Set the Pole Length

For hiking on well-graded, flat to moderately steep trails, adjust the pole length so that your elbow is at a 90-degree angle when holding the pole upright, its tip planted on the ground, right in front of you. On many well-graded (not terribly steep) trails, you may not feel the need to adjust this length setting.

But on steeper terrain or trails, your poles may feel too long when going up or too short when going down. If so, shorten the pole by 5-10cm for hiking uphill and lengthen it a similar amount for hiking downhill. With a little practice, you will quickly learn your preferred length in different terrain.

The adjustable sections of poles typically employ one of two different mechanisms. Here’s how to set each of them correctly:

  1. Twist-lock cams tighten and loosen, of course, by twisting them. Don’t over-tighten them: Turn the mechanism until you feel the cam tightening, then secure it with just another quarter-turn. If you’re applying much effort to twist it, you’re over-tightening it.
  2. Locking levers have a small screw for adjusting the lever’s tension, so that it’s not so loose that the sections collapse easily, or too tight to open and close the lever. That screw will only require slight adjustment, and depending on the design, you might be able to do it with your fingers, or it will require a tool like a Phillips screwdriver (the size found on many multi-tools and Swiss Army knives) or an Allen key. Take note of whether your poles have shafts whose diameter varies slightly from end to end, so that you find the lever tension setting that’s not too tight or loose with the poles either extended or collapsed.

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A backpacker hiking the Uinta Highline Trail over Red Knob Pass, High Uintas Wilderness, Utah.
My son, Nate, backpacking the Uinta Highline Trail over Red Knob Pass, High Uintas Wilderness, Utah.

#2 How to Grip the Pole Strap

To use poles properly, slide your hand through the strap before grabbing the pole grip, and wrap your thumb over the strap; that enables you to pull down on the strap—and lean onto the pole—without over-gripping and fatiguing your hands.

Pole straps are generally easily adjustable. Set them so that the strap wraps your hands comfortably when holding the strap as described above. Adjust straps if needed for wearing gloves (which is usually only necessary for thick, warm gloves).

A tip: Sometimes when hiking down steep, rocky terrain—when the risk of falling is elevated—I remove the straps from my wrists to avoid the poles getting in my way and somehow worsening injuries if I trip and fall. My concern is tripping over the pole or having the pole cause a severe twist of my arm or shoulder because my wrist is in the strap when I’m falling. Plus, when descending, we primarily lean on the poles and use them for balance and supporting our weight rather than to help propel us forward, so the straps are less important, anyway.

At just about all other times when hiking, without the wrist straps, you lose the major benefit of having poles: their ability to help you move forward and conserve energy

Plan your next great backpacking trip in Yosemite, Grand Teton, Grand Canyon,
and other parks using my expert e-books.

Backpackers on the Tonto Trail in the Grand Canyon.
Mark Fenton and Todd Arndt backpacking the Tonto Trail in the Grand Canyon. Click photo to read about “the best backpacking trip in the Grand Canyon.”

#3 Use Poles to Propel Yourself Forward

When hiking relatively level terrain or gentle uphills, take a cue from cross-country skiers: Use poles to help propel yourself forward by planting the pole behind your back foot—which is the foot on the same side as the pole you’re planting when you swing your arms in a normal walking gait—and pushing off.

This will not, of course, feel or look quite the same as Nordic skiers who are sliding rapidly on skis over snow. The effort shouldn’t, for instance, cause serious fatigue in your arms and particularly your triceps muscles. But thousands of slight push-offs over the course of several miles translates to a significant, cumulative amount of weight taken off your leg and back muscles. Hikers using this technique will notice the energy efficiency gained.

Plus, if your goal is exercise, as with Nordic skiing, this technique will give you more of a full-body workout than just walking.

I can help you plan the best backpacking, hiking, or family adventure of your life.
Click here now to learn more.

Hikers ascending steep snow in Idaho's Sawtooth Mountains.
Hikers ascending steep snow in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains.

#4 Using Poles on Steep Ascents

On steep ascents, plant poles alternately in front of you, swinging your arms the same as when walking gentler terrain (right arm forward with the left foot, left arm with the right foot); but plant each pole close enough that your elbow is bent, so that you can lean on the pole strap to gain a bit of upward leverage. A straight arm doesn’t convey much leverage onto the pole.

Some heavier, more-versatile poles have extended grips on the upper shafts, useful for holding the poles below the grips on exceptionally steep uphills without your hand slipping or holding cold metal. This is most useful for climbers and backcountry skiers.

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A young teenage girl descending from the Fenetre d’Arpette on the Tour du Mont Blanc in Switzerland.
My daughter, Alex, descending the steep trail from the Fenetre d’Arpette pass on the Tour du Mont Blanc in Switzerland. Click photo for my e-book to the Tour du Mont Blanc.

#5 Using Poles on Steep Descents

On steep descents—both on-trail and especially off-trail—use poles for balance and to reduce the impact of constantly stepping down. Employ these two techniques depending on the steepness (and follow tip #1 for lengthening your poles):

See my picks for “The 10 Best Trekking Poles” and all of my reviews of trekking poles at The Big Outside.

Whether you’re a beginner or seasoned backpacker, you’ll learn new tricks for making all of your trips go better in my “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” A Practical Guide to Lightweight and Ultralight Backpacking,” and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.” With a paid subscription to The Big Outside, you can read all of those three stories for free; if you don’t have a subscription, you can download the e-book versions of “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” the lightweight and ultralight backpacking guide, and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”

NOTE: I tested gear for Backpacker Magazine for 20 years. At The Big Outside, I review only what I consider the best outdoor gear and apparel. See my Gear Reviews page at The Big Outside for categorized menus of all of my reviews and my expert buying tips.

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How to Get a Permit to Backpack Rainier’s Wonderland Trail https://thebigoutsideblog.com/how-to-get-a-permit-to-backpack-rainiers-wonderland-trail/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/how-to-get-a-permit-to-backpack-rainiers-wonderland-trail/#comments Mon, 16 Feb 2026 10:16:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=51184 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Any backpacker making the substantial effort to hike the 93-mile Wonderland Trail around Washington’s Mount Rainier soon discovers why it’s one of the most popular backpacking trips in the country. Those reasons include regularly wading through some of the best wildflower meadows you’ll see anywhere, the numerous waterfalls and raging rivers gray with glacial flour—and the countless times that the most heavily glaciated peak in the Lower 48, 14,410-foot Mount Rainier, suddenly pops into view, looking impossibly massive.

That’s also why few backcountry permits are harder to get than one for the Wonderland—unquestionably one of “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips” and “The 10 Best National Park Backpacking Trips.”

If you want to backpack the Wonderland Trail this year, it’s essential that you know how to navigate the permit-application process and the strategies that can help improve your odds of getting a permit—and the time to start that process is now.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


Backpackers in Moraine Park on the Wonderland Trail, Mount Rainier National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm and Todd Arndt in Moraine Park on the Wonderland Trail, Mount Rainier National Park.

This story will explain the procedure for obtaining a permit to backpack Mount Rainier’s Wonderland Trail and offer tips on how to maximize your chances of success, sharing expertise I’ve acquired from multiple trips on the WT and in Mount Rainier National Park over the past three decades, including the 10 years I spent as Northwest Editor of Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog.

See my feature story (which requires a paid subscription to The Big Outside to read in full) about my most-recent trip on much of the WT, a 77-mile route that combines what I consider the trail’s best sections and alternate segments, plus “5 Reasons You Must Backpack Mount Rainier’s Wonderland Trail” and “10 Tips for Getting a Hard-to-Get National Park Backcountry Permit.”

Get my e-book “The Complete Guide to Backpacking the Wonderland Trail in Mount Rainier National Park” to learn everything you need to know to plan and take this classic trip, including a day-to-day primary itinerary, alternate itineraries, and detailed pros and cons for hiking clockwise versus counterclockwise.

And see my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can put together a completely customized plan for you to backpack part or all of the Wonderland Trail.

If you have backpacked the Wonderland or have other thoughts or suggestions about it, please share them in the comments section below. I try to respond to all comments.

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A backpacker above Granite Creek on the Wonderland Trail, Mount Rainier National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking the Wonderland Trail above Granite Creek in Mount Rainier National Park.

Enter Mount Rainier’s Early Access Lottery

Know this truth about the Wonderland Trail: Permits are issued based on availability in designated backpacker campgrounds—and all backpacker campgrounds along the trail will become fully booked from July through September. That includes the two-thirds of backcountry campsites available to reserve and the one-third assigned on a first-come basis to backpackers requesting a permit in person at a park wilderness center up to one day before starting a trip.

Those are the only two ways of getting a Wonderland Trail permit—and a reservation is a better strategy because it will be difficult to walk in and find enough campsite availability to create an itinerary for hiking the entire trail.

For trips from May 1 through Oct. 11, 2026, Mount Rainier National Park issues permit reservations at recreation.gov/permits/4675317 up to two days before a trip starts.

Want to hike the Wonderland Trail? Get my expert e-book
The Complete Guide to Backpacking the Wonderland Trail in Mount Rainier National Park.”

A backpacker descending from Panhandle Gap on the Wonderland Trail, Mount Rainier National Park.
Todd Arndt descending from Panhandle Gap on the Wonderland Trail, Mount Rainier National Park. Click photo for my Wonderland Trail e-guide.

The park holds an optional Early Access Lottery that you can enter anytime between 7 a.m. Pacific Time on Feb. 10, 2026, through when it closes at 7 p.m. Pacific on March 3, 2026, at recreation.gov/permits/4675317. Lottery results are released March 14 and winners will receive a date and time on or after March 21 when they can apply for a multi-night backcountry itinerary reservation competing against a limited number of other applicants—quite possibly the only chance of securing a permit for the entire Wonderland Trail. Lottery winners can also apply for a Mount Rainier climbing permit.

General reservations for all other permit seekers open at 7 a.m. Pacific Time on April 25. When searching permit availability at recreation.gov/permits/4675317, view by “Daily Groups” to see how many sites are available in each backcountry campground. There is a non-refundable $6 fee for an early-access lottery application or permit reservation and a fee of $10 per person per night for a permit reservation.

Maximum party size is five people for standard backcountry camps. Parties of six to 12 must stay in designated group camps.

Find more information about permits at nps.gov/mora/planyourvisit/wilderness-permit.htm and nps.gov/mora/planyourvisit/upload/Wilderness-Trip-Planner-2022-wMap-FINAL_508.pdf and more about the Early Access Lottery at recreationonestopprod.servicenowservices.com.

Read all of this story, including my expert tips on getting a Wonderland Trail permit,
and ALL stories at The Big Outside, plus get a FREE e-book. Join now!

A backpacker on the Wonderland Trail in Aurora Park, Mount Rainier National Park.
Todd Arndt backpacking the Wonderland Trail through Aurora Park, Mount Rainier National Park. Click photo to get my help planning your trip.

Be Flexible With Your Dates and Itinerary

As I write in my “10 Tips for Getting a Hard-to-Get National Park Backcountry Permit,” the single most-effective strategy for maximizing your chances of getting a permit for a popular trip during its peak season is to have flexibility with your dates and itinerary.

Availability at Rainier’s backcountry campgrounds will be shown in real time when attempting to reserve a permit at recreation.gov/permits/4675317. If you cannot reserve a specific campground on a specific date, you must be ready with alternative campgrounds, dates, and perhaps starting points.

I’ve helped many readers plan unforgettable backpacking and hiking trips.
Want my help with yours? Click here now.

A backpacker on the Spray Park Trail, Mount Rainier National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking the Spray Park Trail, Mount Rainier National Park. Click photo for my expert e-book to backpacking the Wonderland Trail.

After the Wonderland Trail, hike the rest of “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips.”

A backpacker crossing the Tahoma Creek suspension bridge on the Wonderland Trail, Mount Rainier National Park.
Todd Arndt crossing the Tahoma Creek suspension bridge on the Wonderland Trail. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan this trip.

Try for a Walk-In Permit

You didn’t make a wilderness permit reservation but you hope to backpack all or part of the Wonderland Trail? There is a last resort: a walk-in (or first-come) permit.

Mount Rainier issues about one-third of permits on a first-come basis to backpackers requesting a permit in person at a park wilderness center up to one day before starting a trip.

Backpackers and lupine on the Wonderland Trail, Mount Rainier National Park.
Backpackers and lupine on the Wonderland Trail, Mount Rainier National Park.

While the chances of having enough backcountry campsite availability to put together a complete Wonderland Trail itinerary is very slim, you may be able to backpack a section of the trail—or another trip in the park, like the Northern Loop or arguably the nicest, short backpacking trip in the park, the 22-mile traverse from Mowich Lake to Sunrise.

Expect high demand for walk-in permits. Show up at a park wilderness information center or ranger station that issues permits at least two to three hours before it opens to get a spot near the front of the long line that will form; those are located at Longmire, Paradise, White River, and Carbon River. Go there with primary and alternative routes and camps in mind. Bring warm clothes, a headlamp, a hot drink, and something to read (or a park trail map to study). See “How to Get a Last-Minute, National Park Backcountry Permit.”

You might get lucky and score a permit to start the same day. But expect to have to wait a day—if you’re fortunate enough to get a walk-in permit.

See all stories about backpacking the Wonderland Trail and backpacking in Mount Rainier National Park at The Big Outside. Like many stories at this blog, reading some of those in full requires a paid subscription to The Big Outside.

See also my expert e-book “The Complete Guide to Backpacking the Wonderland Trail Around Mount Rainier” and my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can plan your backpacking trip on the Wonderland Trail.

You live for the outdoors. The Big Outside helps you get out there.
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Ultralight Backpacking Tents: How to Choose One https://thebigoutsideblog.com/how-to-choose-the-best-ultralight-backpacking-tent-for-you/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/how-to-choose-the-best-ultralight-backpacking-tent-for-you/#comments Sat, 14 Feb 2026 10:00:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=25581 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Switching from a standard backpacking tent to an ultralight tent can shave pounds from your total pack weight—which for many backpackers will be the biggest step they can take toward a lighter pack. But it can be confusing to sort through the various ultralight tents out there, and the specs on them can look like a big pot of numeral soup, leaving you wondering: How are they different? And ultimately, which one is best for you?

I’ve tested and reviewed scores of tents of all types over a quarter-century of testing and reviewing gear—formerly as the lead gear reviewer for Backpacker magazine for about 10 years and even longer running this blog. I love the best ultralight tents, but I’ve also used some that had flaws or shortcomings not immediately obvious.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


This article will explain all you need to know to find the three-season, ultralight tent that’s best for you. See also my “5 Tips For Buying a Backpacking Tent.”

Please tell me what you think of my tips or share your questions, suggestions, or favorite ultralight tent model in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

Backpackers camped in the backcountry of Wyoming's Wind River Range.
The Big Agnes Tiger Wall UL2 Solution Dye in the backcountry of Wyoming’s Wind River Range. Click photo to read my review.

Size Matters

Consumers of backcountry gear have grown accustomed to focusing on the weight of a product—which is smart—but not always paying adequate attention to other performance metrics. Think of your tent’s weight like it’s a prospective spouse’s feelings about starting a family: It’s a critical and potentially make-or-break factor, but it’s not the only question to ask when evaluating compatibility.

An ultralight tent is a two-sided coin: Before getting one, be certain that low weight ranks as a higher priority to you than other metrics like living space, or you might be disappointed.

Fans of them typically include ultralight backpackers, thru-hikers, climbers, and others who focus on the experience outside rather than inside the tent, who often spend much of each day on the move, and who don’t mind dealing with the inconveniences or quirkiness of a non-traditional tent design. Big people looking to trim pack weight may be smart to get a tent that’s not the absolute lightest, but still reasonably light while providing a bit more space (more on square footage below).

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The Hyperlite Mountain Gear Mid-1 ultralight solo backpacking tent.
The Hyperlite Mountain Gear Mid-1 ultralight solo pyramid tent in the Wind River Range. Click photo to read my review.

That said, there are ultralight tents and shelters that do have adequate or even abundant living space, especially those employing non-traditional designs. Floorless tents and tarps that pitch using trekking poles weigh mere ounces while offering much more sheltered living area per ounce (or gram) than traditional tents. While not freestanding, when pitched and staked out properly they often stand up to strong wind as well as—and sometimes better than—any heavier, three-season, freestanding tent. Some have a single-wall or hybrid single- and double-wall design (see below) and optional mesh inserts for buggy conditions. Ventilation, of course, is almost never a problem under a tarp.

You may want a light ground cloth, and site selection and an adequately warm bag both become more important when you’re not in an enclosed tent. But if you really want to reduce shelter weight, when bugs aren’t an issue and you don’t anticipate relentlessly wet, windy conditions, a tarp or similar minimalist shelter is unquestionably the best choice. Plus, if you also want to move to a lighter, smaller-volume pack, you have to first reduce the bulk of your two largest pieces of gear: your tent and sleeping bag.

All of which leads to the conclusion: Yes, size matters. There are tradeoffs to reducing weight. For many backcountry travelers, though, the benefits of a lighter pack far outweigh any disadvantages of an ultralight shelter. Once someone switches to one, they don’t tend to go back to carrying heavier tents.

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The Gossamer Gear The One solo ultralight tent in Glacier National Park.
The Gossamer Gear The One solo ultralight tent in Glacier National Park. Click photo to read my review.

How Light Should You Go?

What is an ultralight tent? There’s no hard definition, but I would include any kind of backcountry shelter that’s under about three pounds (1.4 kg). While somewhat arbitrary, that cutoff lumps in a wide range of products, from freestanding, double-wall tents that are significantly lighter than traditional models to shelters weighing a pound or less.

I’m not suggesting you ignore all tents over three pounds; there are two-person, three-season tents weighing mere ounces over three pounds that have their merits. What matters more are your personal needs and preferences in a shelter. That will dictate the design features you want, which (along with your budget) will largely dictate the weight of the shelter you choose.

See my picks for “The 10 Best Backpacking Tents.”

Glenns Lake on the Northern Loop in Glacier National Park.
Glenns Lake in Glacier National Park is along one of America’s top 10 best backpacking trips. Click photo to see them all.

The weight of any kind of shelter (or any gear) basically depends on the type and amount of materials that go into it—a seemingly obvious fact, but one which affects everything from interior space to price. The visible differences include:

• Interior and vestibule space.
• One or two doors.
• Freestanding or requires staking (which includes semi-freestanding).
• Double- or single-wall.
• Whether it has dedicated tent poles or pitches using trekking poles.
• Whether it has a floor and/or bug-proof mesh walls.

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Sea to Summit Alto TR2 ultralight backpacking tent.
The Sea to Summit Alto TR2 ultralight backpacking tent in the Pasayten Wilderness. Click photo to read my review.

Freestanding or Not?

Tarps and some tents employ your trekking poles, eliminating the substantial weight and bulk of tent poles from your pack. These models can require a little more time and possibly some practice to pitch correctly—you’ll be wise to pitch it for the first time in your yard rather than during a rainstorm in the backcountry. But you’ll quickly familiarize yourself with the idiosyncrasies of one. And tent poles represent one of the single biggest chunks of weight you can remove from your pack, which is why these non-traditional shelters are the choice for serious ultralighters as well as any backpackers who simply want to pack as light as possible.

Besides, “freestanding” is a somewhat misleading term: While such tents do stand independent of stakes, they virtually always must be staked out, anyway, including their rainfly, to ensure that they stay put in wind and ventilate well.

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Slingfin 2Lite ultralight backpacking tent.
Testing the Slingfin 2Lite ultralight backpacking tent in the High Sierra. Click photo to read my review.

See my stories “A Practical Guide to Lightweight and Ultralight Backpacking,”
and “5 Tips For Spending Less on Hiking and Backpacking Gear.”

A campsite at Overland Lake on the Ruby Crest Trail.
This campsite at Overland Lake on the Ruby Crest Trail ranks among my 25 all-time favorite backcountry campsites. Click photo to see them all.

What’s Best for You?

As I’ve basically laid out above, choosing any kind of backcountry shelter, and particularly an ultralight one, requires asking yourself a few questions:

• How high a priority is low weight to you?
• How much space do you need?
• Do you usually backpack in buggy seasons and/or wet and windy conditions?
• Will this be your only tent or an alternative shelter to use in circumstances appropriate for it?

In the final analysis, if your goal is as light a backpack as possible, nothing gets you closer to that goal than your choice of a shelter. Find the lightest one that still serves your essential needs.

See all reviews of ultralight backpacking tents and ultralight backpacking gear, my “5 Expert Tips For Buying a Backpacking Tent,” and my picks for the best ultralight backpacks at The Big Outside.

NOTE: I tested gear for Backpacker Magazine for 20 years. At The Big Outside, I review only what I consider the best outdoor gear and apparel. See my Gear Reviews page at The Big Outside for categorized menus of all of my reviews and my expert buying tips.

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The 10 Best Backpacking Tents of 2026 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/gear-review-the-5-best-backpacking-tents/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/gear-review-the-5-best-backpacking-tents/#comments Wed, 11 Feb 2026 10:05:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=16257 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

A good backpacking tent not only makes your trips more comfortable by keeping you warm and dry in foul weather—it’s critical safety gear and one of the heaviest and most expensive items you’ll carry. Those facts alone are motivation enough to find the right tent for your style of backpacking. But how do you choose from the many models out there, which come in a huge range of designs, weights, and prices? Whether you’re shopping for your first backpacking shelter or looking to replace an old one, this review will help make that choice easy for you.

I’ve tested scores of backpacking tents over more than a quarter-century of testing and reviewing gear—including the 10 years I spent as Backpacker magazine’s lead gear reviewer and even longer running this blog. This article covers my picks for the 10 top-performing, three-season backpacking tents available today—eight two-person models and two ultralight solo tents—with links to my complete review of each one. I think you’ll find at least one tent here that’s perfect for you.

Each of these tents is different enough from the others to give you clear choices, and they range from midweight to ultralight—because I believe every ounce should be justified in the gear I carry. The tents are listed from lightest to heaviest. The comparison chart below offers a quick look at specs and features that distinguish these tents from one another and offers an overall rating based on specific criteria that are detailed in a ratings chart at the bottom of each tent’s complete review.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A backpacker at a campsite in the Maze District, Canyonlands National Park, Utah.
Jeff Wilhelm at our second camp in the Maze District, Canyonlands National Park. Click photo to see my 25 all-time favorite backcountry campsites.

Spend your money smartly when picking out the right tent for your adventures: Start with my “5 Expert Tips For Buying a Backpacking Tent” and “Ultralight Backpacking Tents: How to Choose One.” (Like many stories at this blog, both of those are partially free for anyone to read but require a paid subscription to read in full.) And see all reviews of backpacking tents at The Big Outside.

Grab one of these tents and your days on the trail—with a lighter pack—will improve as much as your nights in camp.

Please share your thoughts and questions about these tents or others you like in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

The 10 Best Backpacking Tents

ModelScore (1-5)PriceWeightFloor AreaPeak HeightDoorsFeatures
Hyperlite Mountain Gear Mid-14.4$59916.8 oz./
476.3g
21 sq. ft./
2 sq. m
54 ins./
137cm
1* Hybrid single-wall with tough, waterproof Dyneema fabric and good ventilation.
* Pitches with one trekking pole.
* Excellent space-to-weight ratio.
Gossamer Gear The One4.3$2551 lb. 2 oz./
510g
19 sq. ft./
1.8 sq. m
46 ins./
117cm
1* Very good space-to-weight ratio, headroom.
* Pitches with two trekking poles.
* Good stability, ventilation.
Hyperlite Mountain Gear Ultamid 24.3$6991 lb. 2 oz./
510g
63 sq. ft./
5.9 sq. m
64 ins./
163cm
1* Superior space-to-weight ratio, headroom, durability, stability.
* Modular components
* Pitches with trekking poles.
* Good ventilation.
MSR Freelite 24.5$4652 lbs./
907g
29 sq. ft./
2.7 sq. m
39 ins./
99cm
2* A two-door, double-wall tent weighing just 2 lbs.
* Excellent space-to-weight ratio, headroom, ventilation, stability.
* Easy to pitch.
Nemo Hornet Osmo 2p4.4$4502 lbs. 1 oz./
948g
27.5 sq. ft./
2.6 sq. m
39 ins./
98cm
2* A two-door, double-wall tent barely over 2 lbs.
* Good space-to-weight ratio, headroom, ventilation, stability.
* Easy to pitch.
Big Agnes Tiger Wall UL24.4$5002 lbs. 3 oz./
992g
28 sq. ft./
2.6 sq. m
39 ins./
99cm
2* A two-door, double-wall tent barely over 2 lbs.
* Good space-to-weight ratio, headroom, ventilation, stability.
* Easy to pitch.
Sea to Summit Alto TR24.4$5492 lbs. 9 oz./
1162g
27 sq. ft./
2.5 sq. m
42.5 ins./
108cm
2* Good balance of low weight and livability.
* Good headroom.
* Functional design details.
* Good ventilation, stability.
Nemo Dragonfly Osmo 2p4.7$3502 lbs. 10 oz./
1191g
29 sq. ft./
2.7 sq. m
41 ins./
104cm
2* Very good space-to-weight ratio and headroom.
* Well-featured for sub-3 lbs.
* Easy to pitch.
* Spacious vestibules.
SlingFin 2Lite4.5$5052 lbs. 10 oz./
1191g
28.5 sq. ft./
2.6 sq. m
41 ins./
104cm
2* Good space-to-weight ratio.
* Very stable.
* Optional pitch with trekking poles.
* Spacious vestibules.
Big Agnes Copper Spur UL24.7$5502 lbs. 11 oz./
1219g
29 sq. ft./
2.7 sq. m
40 ins./
102cm
2* Very good space-to-weight ratio and headroom.
* Very well-featured for sub-3 lbs.
* Easy to pitch.
* Awning rainfly doors.

The Hyperlite Mountain Gear Mid-1 ultralight solo backpacking tent.
The Hyperlite Mountain Gear Mid-1 ultralight solo pyramid tent in the Wind River Range.

Hyperlite Mountain Gear Mid-1
$675, 16.8 oz./476.3g
hyperlitemountaingear.com

For three nights in the Wind River Range, this non-freestanding, ultralight, solo pyramid tent stood up to gusts exceeding 40 mph, plus hard, wind-driven rain for hours on our last night in the Winds and rain on a weeklong hike through Glacier National Park. Made with highly durable and waterproof Dyneema Composite fabrics and weighing under 17 ounces, it pitches using one trekking pole and six stakes. With 21 square feet of interior space and a 54-inch peak height, it feels palatial. And the hybrid single-wall design with one mesh wall, two peak vents, and perimeter mesh around the floor creates good high-low venting. The Mid-1 is arguably the best ultralight solo backpacking tent available today.

Read my complete review of the Hyperlite Mountain Gear Mid-1.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking either of these affiliate links to purchase the Hyperlite Mountain Gear Mid-1 solo backpacking tent at hyperlitemountaingear.com, or the Hyperlite Mountain Gear Mid 1 Tarp at hyperlitemountaingear.com.

See also my review of a modular ultralight tent that can accommodate one or two people, the SlingFin SplitWing Shelter Bundle.

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The Gossamer Gear The One solo ultralight tent in Glacier National Park.
The Gossamer Gear The One solo ultralight tent in Glacier National Park.

Gossamer Gear The One
$255, 1 lb. 2 oz./510g
gossamergear.com

Strong nighttime gusts on a six-day, 94-mile traverse of Glacier National Park on the Continental Divide Trail never rattled The One—affirming my impression that it is quite possibly the best value in a solo ultralight tent on the market today. A single-wall, non-freestanding A-frame that pitches using two adjustable trekking poles, with an interior tent featuring mesh bug netting and a bathtub floor, The One’s stability compares with many of the best freestanding, three-season tents. With a tall profile, nearly 20 square feet of floor space, and a 46-inch peak, living space is quite comfortable for a solo shelter. Cross-ventilation minimizes condensation and the vestibule shelters a pack and boots.

Read my complete review of the Gossamer Gear The One.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking this affiliate link to purchase a Gossamer Gear The One at gossamergear.com.

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Hyperlite Mountain Gear Ultamid 2 ultralight pyramid tent with Ultamid 2 Insert.
The Hyperlite Mountain Gear Ultamid 2 ultralight pyramid tent with Ultamid 2 Insert in the Wind River Range.

Hyperlite Mountain Gear Ultamid 2
$730, 1 lb. 2 oz./510g
hyperlitemountaingear.com

Hyperlite Mountain Gear Ultamid 2 Insert with DCF11 Floor
$420, 1 lb. 4.5 oz./581g
hyperlitemountaingear.com

Through nights of steady, cold rain and wind backpacking in the Wind River Range, my 20-year-old son and I enjoyed the cavernous interior of HMG’s Ultamid 2 pyramid-style tarp-tent and Ultamid 2 Insert. Pitching with two trekking poles and weighing two ounces over a pound, this two-person, single-door, well-ventilated, waterproof and highly durable, single-wall shelter sports 63 square feet of floor space and a peak height over five feet—that’s approximately twice the space and half or less the weight of every heavier tent in this review. The separate Ultamid 2 Insert adds a tough bathtub floor and mesh walls while keeping total weight under 2.5 pounds. Although not without shortcomings, it has virtually no competitors for space-to-weight ratio, stability in almost any weather, and durability.

Read my complete review of the Hyperlite Mountain Gear Ultamid 2 and Ultamid 2 Insert with DCF11 Floor.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these affiliate links to purchase the Hyperlite Mountain Gear Ultamid 2 at hyperlitemountaingear.com, the Hyperlite Mountain Gear Ultamid 2 Insert at hyperlitemountaingear.com, any of the various insert or floor options for the Ultamid 2 at hyperlitemountaingear.com, the Ultamid 4 at hyperlitemountaingear.com, and the Hyperlite Mountain Gear Ultamid Voile Straps at hyperlitemountaingear.com.

I’ve helped many readers plan unforgettable backpacking and hiking trips.
Want my help with yours? Click here now.

The MSR FreeLite 2 backpacking tent.
The MSR FreeLite 2 ultralight tent in a camp on the Nigel, Cataract, and Cline Passes Route in the White Goat Wilderness of the Canadian Rockies.

MSR Freelite 2
$500, 2 lbs./907g
cascadedesigns.com

Key fact about MSR’s updated Freelite 2: This double-wall, two-door, three-season, semi-freestanding tent weighs roughly three to nine ounces less than very similar tents in this category that have basically the same design… and has more interior space. Backpacking Arizona’s Aravaipa Canyon in April and on two backpacking trips in the Canadian Rockies in August, the Freelite 2’s 29 square feet of floor space and 39-inch peak height proved adequately livable for two of us. It withstood winds of 20 to 30 mph with no trouble and the almost entirely micro-mesh interior walls and the natural cross-ventilation of opposing doors prevented any trace of condensation even on a calm night just above freezing. If you prioritize those qualities in a tent, it stands above the most comparable competitors.

Read my complete review of the MSR Freelite 2.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these affiliate links to purchase an MSR Freelite 2 at cascadedesigns.combackcountry.com, or rei.com, or any Freelite tent model at cascadedesigns.combackcountry.com, or rei.com.

Planning your next big adventure? See “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips
and “Tent Flap With a View: 25 Favorite Backcountry Campsites.”

The Nemo Hornet Osmo 2p ultralight backpacking tent.
The Nemo Hornet Osmo 2p ultralight backpacking tent in a camp on the Nigel, Cataract, and Cline Passes Route in the Canadian Rockies.

Nemo Hornet Osmo 2p
$480, 2 lbs. 1 oz./948g
backcountry.com

From a section of the Arizona Trail in April to camping in Idaho’s City of Rocks in June and backpacking in the Canadian Rockies in August, the Hornet Osmo 2p illustrated how it carves a narrow niche within a limited weight class of semi-freestanding, two-person, two-door, double-wall tents weighing precisely or barely over two pounds. For starters, Nemo’s proprietary Osmo fabric uses 100 percent recycled nylon and polyester yarns that boost strength and resistance to water and stretching without using chemicals. Set-up is a snap and its space-to-weight ratio compares with the best ultralight, double-wall tents. Features like the Flybar bridge pole and guy-outs on the exterior walls that clip to the rainfly to pull the walls outward create more space inside. Lastly, with poles that dissemble to just 12 inches long, the Hornet Osmo is more packable than competitors.

Read my complete review of the Nemo Hornet Osmo 2p.

Want a solo version of this tent? See my reviews of the Nemo Hornet Osmo 1p and the even lighter Nemo Hornet Elite Osmo 1p tents.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these affiliate links to purchase a Nemo Hornet Osmo 2p at backcountry.com or nemoequipment.com, or any Hornet Osmo tent model at backcountry.com or nemoequipment.com, or any Hornet Elite Osmo tent model at backcountry.com or nemoequipment.com.

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The Big Agnes Tiger Wall UL2 Solution Dye ultralight backpacking tent in the Wind River Range.
The Big Agnes Tiger Wall UL2 Solution Dye with one vestibule rolled back in the Wind River Range.

Big Agnes Tiger Wall UL2
$500, 2 lbs. 3 oz./992g
rei.com

At barely over two pounds, the semi-freestanding Tiger Wall UL2 stands out in a small class of two-door, ultralight tents for its relatively comfortable living space, as I discovered sharing it with my wife for four nights backpacking in the Wind River Range. I also found the tent pitches very quickly and intuitively using a hubbed and color-coded DAC Featherlite pole. While its biggest tradeoff is space, the 28 square feet and 39-inch peak height compare with two-door tents that weigh several ounces more. Excellent ventilation, design features like dual zippers on the doors and spacious interior pockets make it a leader in this tiny category. The latest version of the tent features the high waterproofness of the brand’s proprietary HyperBead fabric.

Read my complete review of the nearly identical previous version of the Big Agnes Tiger Wall UL2.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking either of these affiliate links to purchase a Big Agnes Tiger Wall UL2 at rei.com or backcountry.com.

You deserve a better backpack. See “The 10 Best Backpacking Packs
and the best ultralight backpacks.

Sea to Summit Alto TR2 ultralight backpacking tent.
The Sea to Summit Alto TR2 ultralight backpacking tent in the Pasayten Wilderness.

Sea to Summit Alto TR2
$449, 2 lbs. 9 oz./1162g
rei.com

The semi-freestanding, two-door, double-wall Alto TR2 weighs barely more than two-and-a-half pounds, but on a five-day hike in Washington’s Pasayten Wilderness it proved far more livable than its 27 square feet of floor space suggests. The recipe is vertical walls, a generous 42.5-inch peak height—and most uniquely, a bridge pole with arms that swing upward, boosting headroom. It kept two of us dry in rain, ventilates very well, stood up to moderate wind, and has smart design details like high-low ventilation and two-way zippers on both the interior and vestibule doors. Pitching it requires a little practice and time, but that’s a minor tradeoff for this nice balance of low weight with stability and comfort.

Read my complete review of the Sea to Summit Alto TR2.

BUY IT NOW  You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these affiliate links to purchase the Sea to Summit Alto TR2 at rei.com, or another version of the Sea to Summit Alto tent at rei.com.

Looking for a three-person tent? Take a look at the Sea to Summit Telos TR3 ($524, 4 lbs. 4 oz., fly and footprint pitch 3 lbs. 6 oz., at rei.com), which has a floor area of 39.5 square feet and a cavernous peak height of over 52 inches.

Lighten up with my expert tips in “Ultralight Backpacking Tents: How to Choose One.”

The Nemo Dragonfly 2P interior.
The Nemo Dragonfly 2P on the Teton Crest Trail.

Nemo Dragonfly Osmo 2P
$550, 2 lbs. 10 oz./1191g
nemoequipment.com

There are exactly two fully freestanding, two-person tents on this list with two doors and vestibules that weigh under three pounds, so if that’s what you’re shopping for, you already have a short list. With 29 square feet of floor space, a 41-inch peak height and beaucoup headroom, and spacious vestibules, the Dragonfly’s space-to-weight ratio puts this shelter in an elite class with the Big Agnes Copper Spur HV UL2 (below). But more importantly, it’s very appealing to backpackers who want to reduce their pack weight without reducing their living and sleeping space. Besides some nice details, the Dragonfly Osmo 2P is also an ounce lighter and 50 bucks cheaper than its main competitor.

Nemo has updated the Dragonfly for 2023 with the Dragonfly Osmo in one-, two-, and three-person models. It’s virtually identical to the model reviewed here but now made with 100 percent recycled Osmo fabric.

Read my complete review of the nearly identical previous version, the Nemo Dragonfly 2P.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog , at no cost to you, by clicking any of these affiliate links to purchase a Nemo Dragonfly Osmo 2P at backcountry.com or nemoequipment.com, or another version of the Dragonfly Osmo at backcountry.com or nemoequipment.com.

Score a backcountry permit in popular parks like Yosemite, Grand Canyon, and Grand Teton
using my “10 Tips For Getting a Hard-to-Get National Park Backcountry Permit.”

 

Slingfin 2Lite ultralight backpacking tent.
Testing the Slingfin 2Lite ultralight backpacking tent in the High Sierra.

Slingfin 2Lite
$505, 2 lbs. 10 oz./1191g
slingfin.com

Among the various small companies manufacturing ultralight tents with unique designs, few offer the appealing balance of livability, strength, and two doors found in the 2Lite from Slingfin. Pitching with standard DAC tent poles or trekking poles (trimming the weight to 2 lbs. 6 oz.)—with unique guylines that, when installed internally or externally, reinforce the tent’s strength—it stood up to winds of 30 to 40 mph on a hike of nearly 130 miles through the High Sierra, mostly on the John Muir Trail. With a 28.5-square-foot interior, a 41-inch peak height, 89-inch length, and dual 10.5-square-foot vestibules, the 2Lite Trek offers more space and features than found in other tents around 2.5 pounds.

Read my complete review of the Slingfin 2Lite.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking these affiliate links to buy a Slingfin 2Lite at slingfin.com and the 2Lite Trek Conversion Kit at slingfin.com.

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Big Agnes Copper Spur HV UL2 ultralight backpacking tent.
The Big Agnes Copper Spur HV UL2 in Hells Canyon.

Big Agnes Copper Spur HV UL2
$600, 2 lbs. 11 oz./1219g
backcountry.com

Sporting features—including two awning-style doors that can be rolled up for maximum ventilation and stargazing, better buckles, and abundant interior pockets—the Copper Spur HV UL2 remains one of the leading choices for backpackers seeking an ultralight tent that doesn’t compromise on sturdiness or livability. DAC Featherlite hubbed poles create steep walls that make the tent feel roomier than its 29 square feet, 40-inch peak height, and 88-inch length. It pitches easily, the vestibules are spacious, ventilation excellent, and the Copper Spur keeps the weather on the outside. If you’re looking for a freestanding, two-door, ultralight tent that doesn’t feel like a two-person coffin, you have very few options, and this tent remains one of the best.

Read my complete review of the Big Agnes Copper Spur HV UL2.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these affiliate links to purchase a Big Agnes Copper Spur UL2 at backcountry.com or rei.com or another version of the Big Agnes Copper Spur UL series at backcountry.com or rei.com.

See all reviews of backpacking tents, backpacking gear and ultralight backpacking gear at The Big Outside.

Don’t miss my picks for “The Best Backpacking Gear” of the year. And make sure you’re packing everything that’s important with “An Essentials-Only Backpacking Gear Checklist.”

Whether you’re a beginner or seasoned backpacker, you’ll learn new tricks for making all of your trips go better in my stories “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be,” “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” and “A Practical Guide to Lightweight and Ultralight Backpacking.” With a paid subscription to The Big Outside, you can read all of those three stories for free. If you don’t have a subscription, you can download the e-book versions of “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” the lightweight and ultralight backpacking guide, and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”

NOTE: I tested gear for Backpacker Magazine for 20 years. At The Big Outside, I review only what I consider the best outdoor gear and apparel. See my Gear Reviews page at The Big Outside for categorized menus of all of my reviews and my expert buying tips.

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5 Expert Tips For Buying a Backpacking Tent https://thebigoutsideblog.com/5-tips-for-how-to-buy-a-backpacking-tent/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/5-tips-for-how-to-buy-a-backpacking-tent/#comments Tue, 10 Feb 2026 10:00:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=6789 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

The choices in tents for backpacking seem to get better every year, with lightweight models continually getting lighter and other advances that make tents sturdier and more livable without adding weight. But with all the options out there, how do you choose? The answer is simpler than you might think: It comes down to understanding the key differences that distinguish tents from one another—which will help you understand what you need.

Like tents, backpackers come in different sizes and their needs in a tent vary depending on their style of backpacking and where they go. In testing scores of backpacking tents over a quarter-century of testing and reviewing gear—formerly as the lead gear reviewer for Backpacker magazine for about 10 years and even longer running this blog—I’ve acquired a sense of what to look for in a tent and how to help people pick out one they like.

The five simple tips in this article will help you find the tent that’s best for your needs. Please share any tips of your own or your questions in the comments section at the bottom of this story; I try to respond to all comments.

See also my story “How to Choose the Best Ultralight Backpacking Tent for You,” which explains specific details and design differences that apply to all tents.

See “The 10 Best Backpacking Tents
and all backpacking tent reviews at The Big Outside.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A backpacker at Sahale Glacier Camp in North Cascades National Park.
A backpacker at Sahale Glacier Camp in North Cascades National Park. Click on the photo to see my 25 Favorite Backcountry Campsites.

#1 What Kind of Backpacker Are You?

Is tent weight your top priority, or weather resistance, or interior space and livability? You’ll spend countless hours and nights, as well as plenty of waking hours inside that shelter; make sure it’s going to be enjoyable, and it all comes down to your personal style of backpacking.

Consider these three backpacker profiles:

If you’re the kind of backpacker who’s not interested in rising early and rushing out of camp, and who prefers to hike for not much more than half the day and reach your next camp with time to relax in the warm afternoon sun and perhaps take a swim in a lake or creek, you may prefer a tent with good interior space. That becomes doubly true if your usual destinations present the prospect of rain keeping you inside that tent for hours. Weight may not be your top priority. Still, consider weight as you compare tents, because you do have to carry that shelter.

On the other hand, if you are the kind of backpacker who loves to hit the trail early and bang out big mileage every day—like many ultralighters and thru-hikers—then weight probably is your top priority, and you’re willing to tolerate some compromises in your tent to minimize pack weight because you have a higher ratio of hours spent hiking to hours spent in the tent..

Do you fall somewhere between those two descriptions—not an early-rising, big-mileage backpacker, but nonetheless keen to keep your pack weight comfortable? There are tent models that strike a balance between livability and moderate weight.

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A campsite at night by the Colorado River at Hance Rapids in the Grand Canyon.
A campsite at night by the Colorado River at Hance Rapids in the Grand Canyon. Click photo to see all of my e-books to classic national park backpacking trips, including in the Grand Canyon.

#2 Read the Reviews Closely

Yes, there are a lot of gear reviews in the ether and in print. Find sources you consider authoritative and experienced, whose perspective is shaped by having slept in many tents: With tents especially, the average backpacker doesn’t buy or use very many models, and people have a natural bias to want to affirm that a purchase they made was a good one, so they’ll tend to comment positively—but vaguely.

Read reviews for details you can’t glean by simply checking out a tent in a store, like how well it stands up to wind and rain, the ease of pitching it and breaking it down, and whether it has a problem with condensation buildup, especially on chilly, calm nights.

Use reviews in conjunction with your preferences in a tent to narrow your list to a few finalists—or perhaps easily winnow it to one obvious good choice for you. And lastly, look for brands known for making good tents or that you’ve read good reviews about. You may ultimately settle on a tent from a brand after hearing or reading about another model from that same brand.

Read all of this story and ALL stories at The Big Outside,
plus get a FREE e-book! Join now!

 

A backpacker at a campsite in Titcomb Basin, Wind River Range, Wyoming.
Mark Fenton at a campsite in Titcomb Basin, Wind River Range, Wyoming. Click on the photo to learn how I can help you plan this or any trip you read about at this blog.

#3 The Little Details Matter

But some little things matter more than others. Here are some key details to examine in a backpacking tent:

A tent will typically last for many years. Make sure you’re satisfied with it.

See “The 10 Best Backpacking Tents” and all reviews of backpacking tents, ultralight backpacking tents, backpacking gear, and ultralight backpacking gear at The Big Outside.

Whether you’re a beginner or seasoned backpacker, you’ll learn new tricks for making all of your trips go better in my “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” A Practical Guide to Lightweight and Ultralight Backpacking,” and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.” With a paid subscription to The Big Outside, you can read all of those three stories for free; if you don’t have a subscription, you can download the e-book versions of “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” the lightweight and ultralight backpacking guide, and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”

NOTE: I tested gear for Backpacker magazine for 20 years. At The Big Outside, I review only what I consider the best outdoor gear and apparel. See The Big Outside’s Gear Reviews page for categorized menus of all gear reviews and expert buying tips.

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10 Backpacking Trips for Solitude in Glacier National Park https://thebigoutsideblog.com/ask-me-where-should-we-backpack-to-find-solitude-in-glacier-national-park/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/ask-me-where-should-we-backpack-to-find-solitude-in-glacier-national-park/#comments Sun, 08 Feb 2026 10:15:25 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=14350 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Is it possible to find solitude backpacking in a national park as popular as Glacier? The answer is an unequivocal yes—even in Glacier’s relatively short peak season of mid-July through mid-September. And the strategies for doing so are remarkably simple and will not compromise the quality of your experience in other ways—in fact, encountering fewer people only increases the chances of encountering wildlife. This article describes five backpacking trips where you are virtually guaranteed to enjoy serious solitude in Glacier National Park.

For backpackers, Glacier delivers one of the most inspiring and unique wilderness experiences in the country, with scenery almost unmatched and a high likelihood of spotting megafauna seen in few places in the Lower 48, including mountain goats, bighorn sheep, elk, moose, and black and grizzly bears. I have enjoyed stretches of solitude on each of the several backpacking trips I’ve taken in Glacier over the past three decades—including the 10 years I spent as the Northwest Editor of Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog. Most recently, I backpacked a variation of much of the Continental Divide Trail through the park, one of the trips described below.

This story describes 10 backpacking trips that deliver a high degree of solitude over most of their route—and a few represent the very best backpacking trips in Glacier, while also striking an optimum balance between five-star scenery and a high solitude quotient. This article really presents a list of the best multi-day hikes in Glacier, with a focus on avoiding the huddled masses most of the time. Each writeup below provides details on the overall degree of solitude on that trip and where you’ll find it, plus links to full stories at The Big Outside (which require a paid subscription to read in full; in this story, too, the first six trip descriptions below are free for anyone to read and the last four trips require a subscription  to read).


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A backpacker hiking the Dawson Pass Trail in Glacier National Park.
Pam Solon backpacking the Dawson Pass Trail in Glacier National Park. Click photo for my expert e-book to this trip.

Key Details About Glacier

A Glacier backpacking permit is one of the hardest to get in the National Park System. Glacier holds two early-access lotteries at recreation.gov/permits/4675321, on March 1 for large groups of nine to 12 people and on March 15 for standard groups of one to eight people. General reservations open for all remaining backcountry campsites on May 1, running through Sept. 30. Glacier makes 70 percent of backcountry campsites available for reservations and 30 percent of campsites available for walk-in permits no more than one day in advance. See “How to Get a Permit to Backpack in Glacier National Park” and “10 Tips for Getting a Hard-to-Get National Park Backcountry Permit.”

Full disclosure: Complete solitude is rare during summer because most available permits get used, but you can walk for hours, even on some popular trails that are farther from trailheads and see few or no people; and by avoiding the easily accessible, very scenic areas like Lake McDonald, Many Glacier, Logan Pass, St. Mary, and Two Medicine, which attract the most dayhikers and backpackers.

Go after Labor Day and you’ll probably see fewer people than in July or August. Keep in mind that you could certainly see a snowstorm in September (or even in late August). Check the forecast before you head out, and have good base layers, insulation, and rain shells, waterproof-breathable boots, a warm bag, and a good tent. Snow at that time of year tends to melt away as soon as the sun comes out again, but be ready for any weather. And certainly carry pepper spray in grizzly country.

Get my expert e-books to the best backpacking trip in Glacier
and backpacking the Continental Divide Trail through Glacier.

A backpacker on the Continental Divide Trail in Glacier National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking the Continental Divide Trail in Glacier National Park. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan your trip in Glacier.

See my feature stories about a 90-mile backpacking trip in northern Glacier, part of which is a 65-mile hike that I consider the best backpacking trip in Glacier; a 94-mile traverse of Glacier mostly on the Continental Divide Trail; and my family’s three-day backpacking trip on Glacier’s Gunsight Pass Trail. (Those stories require a paid subscription to read in full; in this story, too, the first six trip descriptions below are free for anyone to read and the last four trips require a subscription to read.)

As I suggest in the very first of my “12 Expert Tips For Finding Solitude When Backpacking,” the best strategy for finding solitude in a popular park like Glacier is to head to the less well-known areas of the park. Large parts of each trip described in this story do exactly that, and every one of them has Glacier-caliber natural beauty and a high likelihood of seeing wildlife.

Want to explore Glacier on dayhikes? See “The 10 Best Dayhikes in Glacier National Park” and “The 8 Best Long Hikes in Glacier National Park.”

Tell me what you think of these trips, or offer your own, in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

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A backpacker hiking the Ptarmigan Tunnel Trail in Glacier National Park.
Pam Solon backpacking the Ptarmigan Tunnel Trail in Glacier National Park. Click photo for my e-book “The Best Backpacking Trip in Glacier National Park.”

Chief Mountain to Many Glacier

Distance: 20 miles
Solitude: Virtually the entire hike except south of the Iceberg Lake spur trail.

Arrange a shuttle from Many Glacier to the Chief Mountain customs station on the Canadian border, and hike from there up the Belly River Trail and Ptarmigan Tunnel Trail back to Many Glacier; an awesome 20-mile trip over two to three days. If you can, add the 8.6 miles (but not much elevation gain) out-and-back to Helen Lake, and camp there; the trail ends there, so you could have the place to yourself, and the lake sits in a deep mountain cirque below the soaring cliffs of Ahern Peak.

Even though Iceberg Lake is a popular dayhike, the short side trip out to it is well worth the time and putting up with the crowds—although dayhikers are generally there mostly during the middle hours of the day. See photos from these areas in my feature stories “Déjà vu All Over Again: Backpacking in Glacier National Park” and “Wildness All Around You: Backpacking the CDT Through Glacier.”

After Glacier, hike the other nine of “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips.”

Dawn Mist Falls in Glacier National Park.
Dawn Mist Falls in Glacier National Park. Click photo for my expert e-books to backpacking trips in Glacier and other parks.

Bowman Lake to Kintla Lake

Distance: 37 miles
Solitude: The entire hike except within a few miles of Bowman or Kintla Lake.

The first backpacking trip I did in Glacier was a nearly 37-mile, point-to-point hike from Bowman Lake to Kintla Lake in the park’s northwest corner, via Brown Pass and Boulder Pass. It’s a beautiful hike in a less-accessible corner of the park, going from forest and lakes to alpine terrain with views of peaks and glaciers and likely sightings of mountain goats.

The three high camping areas along the route—Brown Pass, Hole in the Wall, and Boulder Pass—are all excellent, with views of the peaks in that corner of the park. I rode my mountain bike between the trailheads instead of arranging a vehicle shuttle; I recall it being less than an hour from Kintla (where I left our car) downhill to Bowman.

I can help you plan your Glacier hike or any trip you read about at my blog. Find out more here.

A backpacker above Elizabeth Lake in Glacier National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking toward Redgap Pass in Glacier. Click photo to see all stories about backpacking in Glacier at The Big Outside.

Traverse Glacier on the CDT

Distance: about 90 miles, with shorter options
Solitude: Most of the trip, except the Many Glacier and Two Medicine areas and within dayhiking range of the Going-to-the-Sun Road.

The Continental Divide Trail crosses Glacier from north to south (but you can hike it in either direction), traversing some of the richest scenery and loneliest corners of the park—as well as, to be sure, a few popular areas where you’ll see more hikers, like Many Glacier, the southwest end of St. Mary Lake, and Two Medicine. Still, for the price of those short periods within range of dayhikers, you’ll enjoy the jaw-dropping vistas in those marquis spots while spending most of this gorgeous trip just in the company of your companions.

The CDT through Glacier has a primary and an alternate route. I wrote about combining parts of both on a 94-mile traverse I designed to hit much of the park’s best backcountry, including the high, alpine trail from Pitamakan Pass to Dawson Pass that’s among the best high-level hikes I’ve ever done (see lead photo at top of this story). Over six days, we saw bighorn sheep, mountain goats, black bears, moose, and a griz, and heard elk bugling almost every morning and evening (it was September). Many shorter trips on pieces of the CDT are possible.

I wrote about two slightly different variations of this hike in my feature stories “Déjà vu All Over Again: Backpacking in Glacier National Park” and “Wildness All Around You: Backpacking the CDT Through Glacier.” My downloadable e-guide “Backpacking the Continental Divide Trail Through Glacier National Park” explains all you need to know to plan and execute that trip—and it describes several shorter alternative itineraries that hit parts of Glacier that provide the best opportunities for solitude.

Read all of this story and ALL stories at The Big Outside,
plus get a FREE e-book! Join now!

Bighorn sheep along the Highline Trail, Glacier National Park.
Bighorn sheep along the Highline Trail, Glacier National Park.

Flattop Mountain

Distance: 28 to 31.5 miles
Solitude: Much of the trip, except the southern Highline Trail, Granite Park, and anywhere close to the Going-to-the-Sun Road.

This three- to four-day hike incorporates a piece of the exceptional Highline Trail with another high trail that sees far fewer hikers, starting from a trailhead that sees much less demand for a wilderness permit than starting at Logan Pass or Many Glacier. Plus, the dayhiking crowds on the southern end of the Highline Trail diminish greatly beyond a few miles north of Logan Pass—and it’s hands-down one of the most spectacular trails in the park. (The lead photo at the top of this story was taken on the Highline Trail just north of the Fifty Mountain backcountry campground.) You can also take in the awesome vistas from Sue Lake Overlook and Ahern Pass, both reached on short spur trails.

Take the free park shuttle bus to The Loop, west of Logan Pass on the Going-to-the-Sun Road, and hike from there north on the less-traveled Flattop Mountain Trail to the Fifty Mountain backcountry campground, then return south on the Highline Trail to finish either at The Loop (28.1 miles total) or go all the way to Logan Pass (31.5 miles); I recommend the latter, but hike the busier section, the 7.6 miles from Granite Park to Logan Pass, in early morning to see fewer hikers.

See “5 Reasons You Must Backpack in Glacier National Park.”

Elizabeth Lake in Glacier National Park.
Early morning at Elizabeth Lake in Glacier National Park. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan your Glacier trip.

Glacier’s Northern Loop

Distance: 52 to 65 miles
Solitude: Most of the trip, except the southern Highline Trail, Many Glacier area, and within dayhiking range of the Going-to-the-Sun Road.

The popular, 52-mile Northern Loop takes in some of the most scenic and best-known areas of the park, including the northern section of the Highline Trail, the Ptarmigan Tunnel, and Many Glacier. It also may be the park’s most sought-after permit, or certainly one of them. And yes, you’ll see plenty of dayhikers along some of this route and Many Glacier feels like a small town. A 65-mile variation of the Northern Loop that I’ve hiked—which I consider the best multi-day hike in Glacier—adds stunning Piegan Pass below the Garden Wall and the entire Highline Trail.

Backpackers hiking the Continental Divide Trail in Glacier National Park.
Backpackers hiking the Piegan Pass Trail in Glacier National Park.

But long stretches of both options for this route still deliver a satisfying degree of solitude. As I suggest in tip no. 6 of my “12 Expert Tips For Finding Solitude When Backpacking,” go deeper into the backcountry and you will find solitude. On most of this hike, you’ll walk through remote parts of the park’s northern tier, occasionally encountering only other backpackers. You’ll also see some of the park’s finest wilderness lakes and high country. And you might not mind spending one “backcountry” night in the Many Glacier campground and gorging on a restaurant dinner and breakfast.

See my story “Descending the Food Chain: Backpacking Glacier National Park’s Northern Loop,” photos of part of this loop in my story “Déjà vu All Over Again: Backpacking in Glacier National Park,” and my expert e-book “The Best Backpacking Trip in Glacier National Park,” which covers all the details on planning that trip, including my tips on the best way to do it and best campsites.

Nyack Creek-Coal Creek Loop

Distance: 45 miles
Solitude: The entire trip except when near either trailhead.

The approximately 45-mile Nyack Creek-Coal Creek loop, in the park’s much less-visited southwest corner, will deliver solitude, remoteness, and wildness in spades. Highlights of it are where Nyack Creek drops steeply over waterfalls through a narrow, rocky gorge; views of peaks on the Continental Divide along upper Nyack; Buffalo Woman Lake, which has a pretty waterfall and is ringed by mountains (Beaver Woman Lake is hard to reach—there’s no trail to it); and where the Coal Creek Trail passes through a large burned area with sweeping views of surrounding peaks.

Here on the west side of the Divide, the terrain is mostly less vertiginous than found in areas like Many Glacier, Logan Pass, and St. Mary, and much of this loop remains in forest; plus, sections of trail around Surprise Pass may be overgrown. There is a ford of the Middle Fork of the Flathead River, which can run high and fast in early summer, and several fords of Coal Creek, which is shallow; it may be more convenient to hike in water shoes or sandals for a while there.

Get the right gear for your trips. See “The 10 Best Backpacking Packs
and “The 10 Best Backpacking Tents.”

 

See the two Glacier trips that rank among “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips,” “12 Expert Tips For Finding Solitude When Backpacking,” and all stories about backpacking in Glacier at The Big Outside. Note that most of those stories require a paid subscription to read in full.

Whether you’re a beginner or seasoned backpacker, you’ll learn new tricks for making all of your trips go better in my “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” A Practical Guide to Lightweight and Ultralight Backpacking,” and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.” With a paid subscription to The Big Outside, you can read all of those three stories for free; if you don’t have a subscription, you can download the e-book versions of “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” the lightweight and ultralight backpacking guide, and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”

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How to Get a Permit to Backpack in Glacier National Park https://thebigoutsideblog.com/how-to-get-a-permit-to-backpack-in-glacier-national-park/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/how-to-get-a-permit-to-backpack-in-glacier-national-park/#comments Sat, 07 Feb 2026 10:05:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=50772 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

There are two immutable truths about backpacking in Glacier National Park. First, from its stirring landscape, where glaciers hang off muscular mountains and sheer cliffs soar above deeply green valleys dappled with lakes and waterfalls, to almost certain sightings of wildlife like mountain goats, bighorn sheep, moose, elk, and grizzly and black bears, there’s really no place in the continental United States quite like Glacier.

Second, it’s one of the hardest backcountry permits to get in the National Park System. But the new wilderness permit reservation system that Glacier adopted in 2023 and greatly improved in 2024 brings equity and order to the process. Still, knowing when and how to get a Glacier permit is critical if you want to backpack there.

In this story, I will offer tips on how to maximize your chances of getting a permit to backpack in Glacier, sharing expertise I’ve acquired from several trips there over the past three decades, including the 10 years I spent as Northwest Editor of Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A backpacker on the Dawson Pass Trail in Glacier National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking the Dawson Pass Trail in Glacier National Park. Click photo for my e-books to this trip and another in Glacier.

And remember this: The permit system preserves a wilderness experience for backpackers in Glacier (as well as protecting the park from overuse). That’s a major reason why Glacier ranks among “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips” and “The 10 Best National Park Backpacking Trips.”

Dawn light at No Name Lake in Glacier National Park.
Dawn light at No Name Lake in Glacier National Park.

Glacier National Park conducts two lotteries at recreation.gov/permits/4675321, for early-access times to reserve a backcountry permit: on March 1 for large groups of nine to 12 people and on March 15 for standard groups of one to eight people (details below). For trips between June 15 and Sept. 30, Glacier makes 70 percent of backcountry campsites available for permit reservations and 30 percent of campsites available for walk-in permits no more than one day in advance during the backpacking season.

See my expert e-books “The Best Backpacking Trip in Glacier National Park” and “Backpacking the Continental Divide Trail Through Glacier National Park,” both of which provide all you need to know to plan those trips, including very detailed tips on getting a high-demand backcountry permit, multiple itinerary options of varied lengths, the best campsites, plus expert advice on the ideal time of year, gear, and safety in bear country.

I’ve also helped many readers plan a very enjoyable backpacking trip in Glacier—including tips on maximizing their chances of getting a very hard-to-get permit and an itinerary customized for them. See my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can do that for you.

Like many stories at my blog, part of this story is free for anyone to read. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of this story—including tips it offers on strategies for maximizing your chances of getting a Glacier permit—and all stories about Glacier, as well as all stories at this blog, plus get a free or deeply discounted e-book.

Please share any thoughts or questions about this story, or your own tips, in the comments section at the bottom. I try to respond to all comments.

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A backpacker hiking the Ptarmigan Tunnel Trail in Glacier National Park.
Pam Solon backpacking the Ptarmigan Tunnel Trail in Glacier National Park. Click photo to see all stories about backpacking in Glacier at The Big Outside.

Apply on Specific Dates in March

For backpacking permit reservations during the peak season of early summer into early autumn, Glacier National Park conducts two early-access lotteries at recreation.gov/permits/4675321, on March 1 for large groups of nine to 12 people and on March 15 for standard groups of one to eight people. The lottery only determines who gets awarded an early-access time to make a permit reservation; you won’t include any hiking itinerary details in your lottery entry.

The lotteries offer the best chance of reserving a backcountry permit for backpacking in most of the park, especially the most popular trails or an itinerary of more than one or two nights. People with earlier lottery timeslots will obviously see more camping availability than those who draw a later time. You can enter a lottery anytime during its 24-hour period and all applicants have an equal chance of being selected. Every person in your a party can enter and see who obtains the best time—and if multiple group members obtain a timeslot, all of them could try to reserve a permit.

I’ve helped many readers plan unforgettable backpacking and hiking trips.
Want my help with yours? Click here now.

Backpackers hiking the Continental Divide Trail in Glacier National Park.
Backpackers on the Piegan Pass Trail in Glacier National Park.

Standard group lottery winners will get an email on March 17 with a date and time between March 21 and April 30 when they can attempt to make a permit reservation. The recreation.gov system shows availability in real time; you will either find availability for your dates and campsites and complete the process with a permit reservation or fail to get one.

Successful large-group lottery entrants will receive an email from park wilderness permit staff on March 3 with instructions for making their permit reservation. The park issues just five reservations for large-group permits every year; other large-group permits must be obtained on a walk-in basis based on availability, which is hard to do.

After the early-access reservation period closes, general reservations open for all remaining backcountry campsites on May 1 at 8 a.m. Mountain Time, running through Sept. 30, although most backcountry camps will book very quickly. Glacier imposes a daily hiking limit of 16 miles for reserved permits.

There is a non-refundable $10 fee for a lottery application or any permit issued plus $7 per person per night, which can be refunded if canceled more than seven days prior to the trip start date at recreation.gov/permits/4675321.

See nps.gov/glac/planyourvisit/backcountry-reservations.htm for more information and instructions on using Glacier’s permit page at recreation.gov/permits/4675321.

Get full access to all of this story and all Glacier stories,
plus ALL stories at The Big Outside, and get a FREE e-book. Join now!

A backpacker on the Continental Divide Trail in Glacier National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking the Continental Divide Trail in Glacier National Park. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan your trip in Glacier.

Be Flexible With Your Dates and Itinerary

I’ve backpacked several times in Glacier over the years and I’ve failed to get a wilderness permit just once, for a reason I understood when I submitted that application: I sought only one specific itinerary and our dates were fixed, not flexible. I decided to just throw a hail Mary pass for a trip I wanted and see if I’d get really lucky. I didn’t. In a park like Glacier, that will almost guarantee you don’t get a permit—unless you have one of the earliest lottery timeslots to make a reservation.

As I write in my “10 Tips for Getting a Hard-to-Get National Park Backcountry Permit,” the single most-effective strategy for maximizing your chances of getting a permit for a popular trip during its peak season is to have flexibility with your dates and itinerary.

Get my expert e-books to the best backpacking trip in Glacier
and backpacking the Continental Divide Trail through Glacier.

See all stories about backpacking in Glacier at The Big Outside, including “10 Backpacking Trips for Solitude in Glacier National Park,” “Déjà vu All Over Again: Backpacking in Glacier National Park,” “Descending the Food Chain: Backpacking Glacier National Park’s Northern Loop,” “Wildness All Around You: Backpacking the CDT Through Glacier,” and “Jagged Peaks and Wild Goats: Backpacking Glacier’s Gunsight Pass Trail.” Like many stories at this blog, reading those in full requires a paid subscription to The Big Outside.

See also my expert e-books “The Best Backpacking Trip in Glacier National Park” and “Backpacking the Continental Divide Trail Through Glacier National Park,” and my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can plan your backpacking trip in Glacier.

Start planning your next adventure now! See “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips
and “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips.”

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Thru-Hiking the John Muir Trail—A Photo Gallery https://thebigoutsideblog.com/featured-photo-gallery-the-john-muir-trail/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/featured-photo-gallery-the-john-muir-trail/#comments Tue, 03 Feb 2026 10:00:48 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=4126 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

It’s known as “America’s Most Beautiful Trail” for good reason: There may be no long backpacking trip that’s more spectacular, step for step, than a thru-hike of the John Muir Trail through California’s High Sierra. From Yosemite Valley to the 14,505-foot summit of Mount Whitney in Sequoia National Park, you walk 211 miles past jagged peaks of golden granite, through a constellation of sparkling mountain lakes and more waterfalls than anyone could name, and over numerous passes from 11,000 to over 13,000 feet.

Haven’t hiked the JMT yet? Check out the photos below. They just might convince you that it’s time to move it to the top of your list.

The John Muir Trail has become one of the most sought-after long-distance hikes among serious backpackers. Late summer is the best time for a JMT thru-hike (as well as backpacking anywhere in the High Sierra, or many other Western mountain ranges, for that matter), for many reasons: The bugs, heat, thunderstorms, and crowds of July and August have largely dissipated, and the high passes are snow-free, while dry weather often lingers well into September, with mild daytime temperatures and pleasantly cool nights.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A backpacker hiking the John Muir Trail south toward LeConte Canyon, Kings Canyon National Park.
David Ports backpacking the John Muir Trail south toward LeConte Canyon in Kings Canyon National Park.

And if you hope to make this your year for a JMT thru-hike, the time to start planning, picking dates, and preparing to apply for a wilderness permit is now.

Get a sampler of this classic, incomparable backpacking trip in the photo gallery below. Scroll past the gallery to find links to stories at this blog about the JMT, including my feature story about thru-hiking it in a week with friends, and other stories offering expert tips on how to plan and execute a JMT thru-hike.

I’ve helped many readers plan an unforgettable backpacking trip on the John Muir Trail.
Want my help with yours? Find out more here.

 

Read read my feature story “Thru-Hiking the John Muir Trail in 7 Days: Amazing Experience, or Certifiably Insane?” about my (admittedly somewhat insane) seven-day JMT thru-hike, which includes more photos, a video, and tips on pulling off your own trek on “America’s Most Beautiful Trail.” Please note that reading that full story, as with most stories about trips at The Big Outside, requires a paid subscription.

See also these stories: “Thru-Hiking the John Muir Trail: What You Need to Know,” “How to Get a John Muir Trail Wilderness Permit,” “10 Great John Muir Trail Section Hikes,” “Thru-Hiking the John Muir Trail: The Ultimate, 10-Day, Ultralight Plan,” and all stories about backpacking the John Muir Trail at The Big Outside.

Find your next adventure in your Inbox. Sign up for my FREE email newsletter now.

One key to finishing and enjoying the 211-mile JMT (221 miles including the descent off Mount Whitney, which is not part of the JMT) is keeping your pack weight as light as possible. See my story “A Practical Guide to Lightweight and Ultralight Backpacking.” If you don’t have a paid subscription to The Big Outside, you can read part of that story for free, or click here to download that full story without having a paid membership.

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10 Outdoor Adventures to Put on Your Bucket List Now https://thebigoutsideblog.com/10-adventures-to-put-on-your-bucket-list-now-winter/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/10-adventures-to-put-on-your-bucket-list-now-winter/#comments Mon, 02 Feb 2026 10:00:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=43882 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Are you looking for great trip ideas for your bucket list? Well, you’ve clicked to the right place. This freshly updated story spotlights some of the most iconic wildlands in the U.S., including Glacier (photo above), Yosemite, Mount Rainier, North Cascades, and Sequoia national parks, southern Utah’s national parks and monuments, two wilderness areas, and two international adventures that may not be on your radar—all of them worthy of your bucket list.

All of them are also trips that you must start planning now or very soon to take them this year—including rapidly approaching backcountry permit-reservation dates for many national parks.

The 10 trips described below all stand out in personal memory among the countless trips I’ve enjoyed over the past three decades, including the 10 years I spent as Northwest Editor of Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog. They all have links to stories at The Big Outside with many more images and info, including my expert tips on planning and taking each trip. (Those stories require a paid subscription to The Big Outside to read in full.)


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A backpacker hiking to Vogelsang Pass in Yosemite National Park.
Todd Arndt hiking to Vogelsang Pass in Yosemite National Park. Click photo for my expert e-book “The Best Backpacking Trip in Yosemite.”

I update this list regularly to feed you fresh and timely ideas—and to help your bucket list, like mine, continually refresh as you steadily tick off new trips.

I can help you plan any of these trips—see my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how and to read hundreds of comments from people like you whom I’ve helped plan an unforgettable adventure. See also my E-Books page for my expert e-books to many of America’s best backpacking trips, and my “10 Tips For Getting a Hard-to-Get National Park Backcountry Permit.”

I’d love to read any thoughts, personal experiences, or suggestions you want to share in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

Backpackers hiking in lower Owl Canyon, Bears Ears National Monument, Utah.
Backpackers hiking in lower Owl Canyon, Bears Ears National Monument, Utah.

Southern Utah is Huge. Get Busy

Okay, you know of and maybe have dayhiked or backpacked in some of Utah’s Big 5 national parks: Zion, Bryce Canyon, Arches, Canyonlands, and perhaps even lesser-known Capitol Reef—which together protect landscapes that almost defy description and a density and breadth of parks and other wild lands that’s arguably unmatched in the country. You almost certainly haven’t finished with them yet.

A hiker at North Overlook above the Fremont River Canyon, reached via Cohab Canyon in Capitol Reef National Park.
Todd Arndt at North Overlook above the Fremont River Canyon, reached via Cohab Canyon in Capitol Reef National Park.

But have you backpacked gems like Paria Canyon, Coyote Gulch, or Owl and Fish canyons? Or taken more obscure and challenging backpacking trips like Dark Canyon, the Death Hollow Loop in the Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument, or the Maze District of Canyonlands? Or even taken classic adventures like backpacking Zion’s Narrows, Kolob Canyons or West Rim Trail or floating the Green River through Canyonlands? Not to mention the countless great dayhikes of all distances, like the beloved slot canyons Peek-a-Boo Gulch and Spooky Gulch.

I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve returned to southern Utah—it’s dozens—but I’m far from done there. You’ve probably only scraped the surface of this region. Treat southern Utah as a lifetime commitment and every new adventure will amaze you. Spring and fall are the prime seasons and some of these trips require reserving permits months in advance.

See “The 12 Best Backpacking Trips in the Southwest,” “The 15 Best Hikes in Utah’s National Parks,” all stories about hiking and backpacking in southern Utah at The Big Outside.

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A backpacker at Park Creek Pass, North Cascades National Park.
Todd Arndt backpacking over Park Creek Pass in North Cascades National Park.

Get Lonely in the North Cascades

On at least three major lists of the least-visited national parks, North Cascades ranks in the top five (and most of the top 10 are in Alaska). For backpackers who prefer to have a beautiful wild place almost to themselves, that’s a good thing.

Larch trees glowing with fall color, reflected in Rainbow Lake in the North Cascades National Park Complex.
Larch trees glowing with fall color, reflected in Rainbow Lake in the North Cascades National Park Complex.

A sprawling swath of glacier-clad mountains and thickly forested valleys, North Cascades has long been one of my favorite parks—and it has one of the best backcountry campsites I’ve ever slept in.

On my most-recent trip there, a friend and walked 80 miles through the heart of the North Cascades National Park Complex just as the huckleberries ripened and the larch trees blazed yellow with fall color in the last week of September. Our grand tour from Easy Pass Trailhead to Bridge Creek Trailhead took us through virgin forests of giant cedars, hemlocks, and Douglas firs, and over four passes, including Park Creek Pass, where you turn a 360 overlooking waterfalls and glaciers pouring off cliffs and jagged, snowy peaks amid a sea of mountains.

North Cascades National Park holds an Early-Access lottery for permit reservations from March 2-13, 2026—enter it especially if you’re seeking any popular backcountry camps in the park—and opens general permit reservations on April 29.

See my story “Primal Wild: Backpacking 80 Miles Through the North Cascades,” which has my tips on how to plan and take this trip, including shorter variations of the route, and all stories about North Cascades National Park at The Big Outside.

Want my help planning any trip on this list?
Click here now for expert advice you won’t get anywhere else.

A backpacker hikng the Continental Divide Trail south of Triple Divide Pass in Glacier National Park.
Pam Solon backpacking the Continental Divide Trail south of Triple Divide Pass in Glacier National Park. Click photo for my e-books to backpacking in Glacier and other parks.

Backpack Incomparable Glacier National Park

Little wonder that Glacier ranks among the favorite national parks of backpackers: No place in the Lower 48 really compares with it. From its rivers of ice (which are disappearing rapidly due to climate change) pouring off craggy mountains and sheer cliffs that soar high above lushly green valleys, and over 760 lakes offering mirror reflections of it all, to megafauna like mountain goats, bighorn sheep, elk, moose, and grizzly and black bears, these million acres in the rugged Northern Rockies simply deliver an experience you can’t find in any park outside Alaska.

No Name Lake in Glacier National Park.
No Name Lake in Glacier National Park.

I’ve backpacked multiple times all over Glacier, most recently in September 2023 (lead photo at top of story), when two friends and I hiked for a week mostly on the Continental Divide Trail through the park—unquestionably one of the entire CDT’s best sections. The park’s more than 700 miles of trails enable trips of varying distances, from beginner-friendly to serious, remote adventures in deep wilderness.

My e-books describing two long and magnificent treks through Glacier, “The Best Backpacking Trip in Glacier National Park” and “Backpacking the Continental Divide Trail Through Glacier National Park,” detail all you need to know to plan and execute those trips safely. They also describe shorter variations on those routes.

And, of course, I can give you a customized plan for a backpacking trip of any length in Glacier; click here to learn how.

Glacier holds two early-access lotteries, on March 1 for large groups of nine to 12 people and on March 15 for standard groups of one to eight people, for a date and time between March 21 and April 30 when they can reserve a permit ahead of reservations opening to the general public on May 1. Glacier makes 70 percent of backcountry campsites available for reservations and 30 percent of campsites available for walk-in permits.

See “How to Get a Permit to Backpack in Glacier National Park” and all stories about backpacking in Glacier National Park at The Big Outside.

Read any story linked here and ALL stories at The Big Outside.
Join now and get a free e-book!

A backpacker descending toward Granite Creek on the Wonderland Trail in Mount Rainier National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm descending toward Granite Creek on the Wonderland Trail in Mount Rainier National Park.

Backpack the Wonderland Trail Around Mount Rainier

Backpackers in Moraine Park on the Wonderland Trail, Mount Rainier National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm and Todd Arndt in Moraine Park on the Wonderland Trail, Mount Rainier National Park. Click photo for my e-book to the Wonderland Trail.

Backpacking the Wonderland Trail around glacier-clad, 14,410-foot Mount Rainier, one repeatedly sees “The Mountain” (as Washingtonians know it) fill the horizon—a sight that can stop you in your boots. If it’s fair to say that no multi-day hike in the contiguous United States is quite like the Wonderland Trail—and it is—that’s partly because there’s no mountain in the Lower 48 like Rainier.

But the WT isn’t just about views of Rainier. It also features some of the most beautiful wildflower meadows you will ever walk through, crystalline creeks and raging rivers gray with “glacial flour,” countless waterfalls and cascades, and sightings of mountain goats, marmots, deer, and black bears.

The full Wonderland loop around Rainier is a seriously strenuous, 93-mile trip, with over 44,000 cumulative vertical feet of elevation gain and loss. But because it can be accessed from several trailheads, you can choose between thru-hiking all of it—which takes up to nine to 10 days—or backpacking shorter trips of varying lengths on sections of the trail.

And choices like where to begin the loop and which direction to hike it, and whether to take a popular detour onto the higher and more-scenic Spray Park Trail, all affect the trip’s overall difficulty—which I spell out in detail in my expert e-book “The Complete Guide to Backpacking the Wonderland Trail in Mount Rainier National Park.”

See my stories “5 Reasons You Must Backpack Mount Rainier’s Wonderland Trail,” “How to Get a Permit to Backpack Rainier’s Wonderland Trail,” and American Gem: Backpacking Mount Rainier’s Wonderland Trail,” about a 77-mile hike two friends and I took on much of the Wonderland (a route described as one of the alternate itineraries in my e-book).

Got an all-time favorite campsite? I have 25 of them.
See “Tent Flap With a View: 25 Favorite Backcountry Campsites.”

A hiker on Half Dome in Yosemite National Park.
Mark Fenton on Half Dome in Yosemite National Park.

Take Yosemite’s Best Dayhikes and Backpacking Trips

Half Dome, the John Muir Trail, Tenaya Lake, Mount Hoffmann, the Mist Trail, Upper Yosemite Falls, Tuolumne Meadows, and the Cathedral Range and Cathedral Lakes—these names are nearly as famous as the park that harbors them: Yosemite.

The Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne River, Yosemite.
The Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne River, Yosemite.

But in numerous trips backpacking, dayhiking, and climbing there over the years, I’ve discovered that other corners of Yosemite are equally spectacular if not as well known, including the Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne River, Clouds Rest, Red Peak Pass, Matterhorn Peak and Matterhorn Canyon, Burro Pass, Mule Pass, Benson Lake, and Dewey Point, among many.

This flagship park’s finest backpacking trips and dayhikes offer a variety of experiences that will awe you no matter how much time you have or how many times you’ve been there. For backpacking, plan to apply for a wilderness permit 24 weeks (168 days) in advance of the week you want to start hiking.

If you want to backpack Yosemite this summer, the time to apply for a wilderness permit is now.

See “Backpacking Yosemite: What You Need to Know,” “The 10 Best Backpacking Trips in Yosemite” and all of this blog’s stories about backpacking in Yosemite, plus my expert e-books to three stellar, multi-day hikes in Yosemite, including “The Best First Backpacking Trip in Yosemite.”

See also “The 12 Best Dayhikes in Yosemite,” “The Magic of Hiking to Yosemite’s Waterfalls,” and all stories about Yosemite National Park at The Big Outside.

I know Yosemite’s unique wilderness permit system very well and I’ve helped many readers plan a backpacking trip in Yosemite—including helping some obtain a permit after they had failed applying on their own. Go to my Custom Trip Planning page to see how I can do that for you.

You want to backpack in Yosemite?
See my e-books to three amazing multi-day hikes there.

A backpacker hiking into Titcomb Basin in the Wind River Range, Wyoming.
Todd Arndt backpacking into Titcomb Basin in the Wind River Range, Wyoming.

Explore the Wind River Range

Come up with a list of the best backpacking trips in America that do not require you to reserve a permit months in advance, and rank them in order of scenic magnificence, and Wyoming’s Wind River Range would have to reside near or at the top of that list. The Winds are also one of the few mountain ranges in the contiguous United States where—if you put in the effort to get beyond the very few popular trailheads—you can hike for days below 13,000-foot peaks and count more alpine lakes than people.

Pyramid Peak (right) and Mount Hooker (left of Pyramid), above Mae's Lake in the Wind River Range, Wyoming.
Pyramid Peak (right) and Mount Hooker (left of Pyramid), above Mae’s Lake in the Wind River Range. Click photo to see this and many other photos from places I’ve written about at The Big Outside that are available to purchase as professional-quality enlargements suitable for framing.

Among the most recent of several trips I’ve made to the Winds, my wife, a friend, and I backpacked a five-day, roughly 43-mile loop from one of the less-busy trailheads on the west side of the range, following some of the most scenic trails I’ve walked in the Winds to high passes and gorgeous lakes around every turn. On a four-day hike, a friend and I camped near a lake every night and crossed four passes, including a sort of “back door” entrance into the amazing Cirque of the Towers, and I left there thinking we’d just done the best multi-day hike in the Winds.

And just last September, on a solo, six-day hike mostly on the Continental Divide Trail through the Winds, I went entire days without seeing other backpackers and walked past too many heart-stopping lakes to count. Watch for my upcoming story about that trip.

See “5 Reasons You Must Backpack in the Wind River Range,” “The 10 Best Backpacking Trips in the Wind River Range,” and all stories about backpacking in the Wind River Range at The Big Outside.

I’ve helped many readers plan a wonderful backpacking trip, ideal for them, in the Wind River Range. See my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you plan any trip you read about at this blog and see hundreds of comments from readers who’ve received my trip planning.

Get the right gear for you. See “The 10 Best Backpacking Packs
and “The 10 Best Backpacking Tents.”

A family trekking the Alta Via 2 in Parco Naturale Puez-Odle, Dolomite Mountains, Italy.
My family trekking to Furcela dia Roa on the Alta Via 2 in Parco Naturale Puez-Odle, Dolomite Mountains, Italy.

Trek Through Italy’s Dolomite Mountains

A family trekking the Alta Via 2 in Parco Naturale Paneveggio Pale di San Martino, in Italy's Dolomite Mountains.
My family trekking the Alta Via 2 in Parco Naturale Paneveggio Pale di San Martino, in Italy’s Dolomite Mountains.

Located in the northeastern Italian Alps, with one national park, several regional parks, and a UNESCO World Heritage Site, the Dolomites thrust a dizzying array of spires and serrated peaks into the sky, gleaming like polished jewels in bright sunshine and virtually pulsing with the salmon hue of evening alpenglow. They strike a sharp contrast with the deep, steep-sided, verdantly green valleys and meadows. On a weeklong, hut-to-hut trek through one of the world’s most spectacular and storied mountain ranges, my family hiked a 39-mile (62-kilometer) section of the roughly 112-mile (180-kilometer) Alta Via 2, or “The Way of the Legends.”

An alpine footpath famous for scenery that puts it in legitimate contention for the title of the most beautiful trail in the world, the AV 2 is also known for comfortable mountain huts with excellent food—and a reputation for being the most remote and difficult of the several multi-day alte vie, or “high paths,” that crisscross the Dolomites. On one of the all-time best adventures I’ve ever taken, we discovered that it was all of those things and more.

See my story “The World’s Most Beautiful Trail: Trekking the Alta Via 2 in Italy’s Dolomites.”

I’ve helped many readers plan an unforgettable backpacking or hiking trip.
Want my help with yours? Click here to learn more.

Backpackers on the High Sierra Trail in Sequoia National Park.
Backpackers on the High Sierra Trail in Sequoia National Park. Click either photo to read about this trip.

See the Glorious Southern Sierra in Sequoia National Park

With some of the highest mountains in the Lower 48 and a constellation of backcountry lakes, California’s southern High Sierra rank among the prettiest backpacking destinations in America. And Sequoia National Park hosts one of the biggest chunks of contiguous wilderness in the Lower 48—a pristine and incredibly photogenic land of razor peaks and alpine lakes so clear you could stand on the shore and read a book lying open on the lake bottom.

A young girl at Precipice Lake in Sequoia National Park.
My daughter, Alex, at Precipice Lake in Sequoia National Park.

On a six-day, 40-mile backpacking trip in Sequoia, my family hiked through a quiet backcountry grove of giant Sequoias and over 10,000-foot and 11,000-foot passes at the foot of 12,000-foot, granite peaks. We camped at two lakes that earned spots on my list of 25 favorite backcountry campsites.

While many backpackers heading for the High Sierra point their compass at Yosemite and the John Muir Trail—creating enormous demand for those backcountry permits—far fewer set their sights on areas of Sequoia like where my family backpacked. That means it’s an easier permit to get, and the scenery rivals anywhere in the Sierra.

Apply for a permit up to six months in advance for a trip during the park’s quota period of late May through mid-September.

See my story “Heavy Lifting: Backpacking Sequoia National Park,” about my family’s six-day, 40-mile loop hike there, and all stories about Sequoia National Park at The Big Outside.

Click here now to plan your next great backpacking adventure using my expert e-books.

Dawn at Spangle Lake, Sawtooth Mountains, Idaho.
Dawn at Spangle Lake, Sawtooth Mountains, Idaho.

Wander Into Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains

I have been hiking, backpacking, and climbing in Idaho’s Sawtooths—the wilderness in my back yard (or pretty close)—for almost 30 years. I’ve walked nearly every trail and some outstanding off-trail routes, from the most accessible lakes and mountain passes to the remote interior of the range, visiting numerous, incredibly picturesque alpine lakes that undoubtedly see few visitors. I’ve long thought that the Sawtooths look like they could be the love child of the High Sierra and the Tetons.

The unnamed lake where we camped in the lakes basin on the south side of Snowyside Peak, Sawtooth Mountains, Idaho.
An unnamed lake in a lakes basin reached via a good use trail in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains.

I returned there again in August 2025 for a four-day hike that began with walking through a lovely lakes basin I had not seen before. That trip featured several more wonderful and remote lakes (including the above photo), and on which we crossed four high passes and summited one 10,000-foot peak. Watch for my upcoming story about that trip.

Looking for a beautiful Sawtooths adventure that’s a moderate distance? The multi-day hike I’d recommend is a four- to five-day, roughly 36-mile route in the scenic heart of the range.

See my story “The Best of Idaho’s Sawtooths: Backpacking Redfish to Pettit” and my e-book “The Best Backpacking Trip in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains” which tells you all you need to know to plan and pull off that trip and includes three alternate itineraries that allow you to shorten the hike to four days or extend it to six or seven days. And see all stories about backpacking in Idaho’s Sawtooths at The Big Outside.

I’ve helped many readers plan a wonderful backpacking trip, ideal for them, anywhere in the Sawtooths. See my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you, too.

Planning your next big adventure? See “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips
and “The 25 Best National Park Dayhikes.”

 

Backpackers in Norway's Jotunheimen National Park.
Jasmine and Jeff Wilhelm backpacking in Norway’s Jotunheimen National Park.

Trek Norway’s Jotunheimen National Park

Trekkers on Besseggen Ridge in Norway's Jotunheimen National Park.
Jasmine and Jeff Wilhelm trekking through rain on Besseggen Ridge in Jotunheimen National Park.

Picture this: an Arctic-looking landscape vibrantly colorful with shrubs, mosses, wildflowers, and lichen blanketing glacial-erratic boulders. Cliffs and mountains that look like they were chopped from the earth with an axe. Thick, crack-riddled glaciers pouring like pancake batter that needs more water off starkly barren peaks rising to more than 8,000 feet. Braided rivers meandering down mostly treeless valleys, and reindeer roaming wild. Summit views of a sea of snowy, glacier-clad peaks rolling away to far horizons.

That describes my family’s weeklong, roughly 60-mile/97-kilometer, hut-to-hut trek through Norway’s Jotunheimen National Park—whose name means the “Home of the Giants.”

Our adventure combined pristine wilderness with the most luxurious huts I’ve ever stayed in—some featuring private rooms, hot showers, and restaurant-caliber meals—a trail network that allows for flexibility in route options, and optional side hikes to summits with mind-blowing views of mountains buried in snow and ice, including the highest peak in Norway. Some of us also hiked a spectacular ridge traverse known as “the most famous hike in Norway,” which I’d normally receive as a warning sign, but in this case, it’s a rigorous hike that I’d return to in a second.

Read “Walking Among Giants: A Three-Generation Hut Trek in Norway’s Jotunheimen National Park.”

Find more ideas and inspiration in my All Trips List, which has a menu of all stories at this blog, and in “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips” and “The 10 Best Family Outdoor Adventure Trips.”

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10 Perfect National Park Backpacking Trips for Beginners https://thebigoutsideblog.com/5-perfect-national-park-backpacking-trips-for-beginners/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/5-perfect-national-park-backpacking-trips-for-beginners/#comments Sat, 31 Jan 2026 10:00:39 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=27013 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

So you’re a novice backpacker, or you’re planning your first backpacking trip in a big, Western national park, or you have kids you want to take on a relatively easy backpacking trip—and you want to sample the best scenery, trails, and backcountry campsites that experienced backpackers get to enjoy in our national parks. No worries. These 10 trips in Grand Teton, Zion, Grand Canyon, Glacier, Olympic, Rocky Mountain, Mount Rainier, Canyonlands, and two in Yosemite (photo above) are ideal for beginners and families, with easy to moderately difficult days and simple logistics, while delivering the spectacular vistas that each of these parks is famous for.

In fact, two of them (Yosemite and Grand Teton) were among the very first multi-day hikes I took as a novice backpacker more than three decades ago, and seven (Zion, Grand Teton, Glacier, Grand Canyon, Olympic, Mount Rainier, and Rocky Mountain) were among my kids’ earliest trips, which we took when they ranged in age from six to 10. They are also among the nicest multi-day hikes I’ve taken over more than three decades (and counting) of carrying a backpack, including the 10 years I spent as a field editor for Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


Woman and two young children backpacking the West Rim Trail in Zion National Park.
My wife, Penny, with our kids, Nate and Alex, hiking up the West Rim Trail on a family backpacking trip in Zion National Park.

Besides delivering on all you expect from a backpacking trip in a flagship national park, any of these outings will help prepare you for bigger, more ambitious adventures. And like many stories at this blog, much of this one is free for anyone to read, but reading it all and seeing the entire list of backpacking trips is an exclusive benefit for paid subscribers to The Big Outside.

I can help you plan any of them—or any trip you read about at this blog, including beginner-friendly backpacking trips not in national parks, avoiding the need to reserve a permit months in advance. See my Custom Trip Planning page.

See also my stories “The 10 Best National Park Backpacking Trips,” “10 Tips for Getting a Hard-to-Get National Park Backcountry Permit,” “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” and “10 Tips for Taking Kids on Their First Backpacking Trip.”

Please tell me what you think of these trip ideas or offer your own in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

A young boy hiking in the North Fork Cascade Canyon in Grand Teton National Park.
My son, Nate, on a family backpacking trip in Grand Teton National Park. Click photo for my expert e-book to this trip.

Grand Teton’s Paintbrush-Cascade Canyons Loop

Distance: 19.7 miles
Difficulty: Moderate

A backpacker on the Teton Crest Trail, Grand Teton National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking to Paintbrush Divide in Grand Teton National Park.

The 19.7-mile loop linking up Paintbrush and Cascade canyons from String Lake offers something of a highlights reel of Grand Teton National Park and is undoubtedly among the most scenic sub-20-mile, multi-day hikes in the National Park System. With nearly 4,000 feet of elevation gain and loss, the loop crosses one of the highest points reached via trail in the park, 10,720-foot Paintbrush Divide, where the panorama takes in a jagged skyline featuring some of the highest summits in the Tetons. It also passes by beloved Lake Solitude, nestled in a cirque of cliffs, and below the striped cliffs of Paintbrush Canyon and waterfalls and soaring peaks of Cascade Canyon.

We backpacked this popular loop over three days with our kids when they were young, camping at Upper Paintbrush the first night and North Fork Cascade the second, and seeing moose in Cascade Canyon; I’ve also dayhiked it. It can be hiked in either direction—and the Paintbrush side is steeper and more strenuous whether going up or down it. But by going counter-clockwise, you enjoy a steady view of the Grand Teton looming high above the North Fork of Cascade Canyon; and you finish down Cascade Canyon, where most of the group can avoid the final slog through the woods and take the boat shuttle across Jenny Lake—with in-your-face views of the peaks—while someone hikes the last 45 minutes to retrieve the car at String Lake.

Click here now to get my expert e-book
to this beginner-friendly backpacking trip in Grand Teton National Park.

I can personally help you plan this trip (or any trip you read about at my blog), from permit to daily hiking plan, through my custom trip planning; click here to learn how—and to read hundreds of comments from others who’ve received my custom trip planning, many of which were for backpacking in the Tetons.

See all stories about backpacking in Grand Teton National Park at The Big Outside (some of which require a paid subscription to read in full), including “A Wonderful Obsession: Backpacking the Teton Crest Trail,” “The 5 Best Backpacking Trips in Grand Teton National Park,” “How to Get a Permit to Backpack the Teton Crest Trail,” and “Walking Familiar Ground: Reliving Old Memories and Making New Ones on the Teton Crest Trail” about taking our kids at young ages on the TCT.

Find your next adventure in your Inbox. Sign up now for my FREE email newsletter.

Backpackers on the South Kaibab Trail in the Grand Canyon.
Backpackers on the South Kaibab Trail in the Grand Canyon. Click photo for my e-book “The Best First Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon.”

The Best First Trip in the Grand Canyon

Distance: 21 to 23.5 miles
Difficulty: Moderate to strenuous

A hiker on the Grand Canyon's South Kaibab Trail.
A hiker on the Grand Canyon’s South Kaibab Trail.

While this is one of the most strenuous trips on this list, for beginner backpackers or families with good stamina who are up for a somewhat bigger challenge, crossing the Grand Canyon from rim to rim constitutes one of the most scenically astonishing experiences in the entire National Park System. Beginning at either the South or North Rim, you will descend through a constantly changing environment and multiple layers of geology, from vistas encompassing a huge swath of the canyon to intimate side canyons with rushing creeks and waterfalls.

The distance ranges from 21 to 23.5 miles depending on whether you combine the South Kaibab Trail or Bright Angel Trail with the North Kaibab Trail, and the cumulative elevation gain and loss is well over 10,000 feet. Many backpackers spread it over three days. Still, water sources are regular and you’re hiking the best-constructed trails in the entire canyon.

Want a shorter Grand Canyon sampler? Hike 16.5 miles rim to river to rim: down the South Kaibab Trail and up the Bright Angel Trail over two or three days, with one night at Bright Angel Campground on the Colorado River and a possible second night at Havasupai Gardens Campground along the Bright Angel Trail to break up the long climb back up from the river.

See my story “Fit to Be Tired: Hiking the Grand Canyon Rim to Rim in a Day” for photos from this trip and my tale of dayhiking rim to rim, “How to Get a Permit to Backpack in the Grand Canyon,” and “10 Epic Grand Canyon Backpacking Trips You Must Do.”

Click here now for my expert e-book to backpacking the Grand Canyon rim to rim.

A view from the John Muir Trail of Half Dome, Liberty Cap, and Nevada Fall in Yosemite National Park.
A view from the John Muir Trail of Half Dome, Liberty Cap, and Nevada Fall in Yosemite. Click photo to get my expert e-book “The Best First Backpacking Trip in Yosemite.”

The Magnificent Heart of Yosemite

Distance: 37.2 miles (with shorter options)
Difficulty: Moderate

Anyone looking for a five-star introduction to backpacking in Yosemite that hits marquis highlights and is beginner friendly need look no further than this 37.2-mile loop from Yosemite Valley. From the popular Happy Isles Trailhead at the east end of The Valley, it winds through the core of the park, starting with ascending the Mist Trail past 317-foot Vernal Fall—which rains a heavy mist on hikers—and thunderous, 594-foot Nevada Fall. The distance includes the optional, out-and-back climb of the steep and exposed cable route up Half Dome, where the summit view of Yosemite Valley is arguably only outdone by the view you’ll get later on the hike from a thousand feet higher on the knife-edge summit ridge of Clouds Rest.

From a campsite on the edge of the alpine meadows at Sunrise, you’ll get a sweeping view of the granite castles of the Cathedral Range. And the hike, spread over four to five days, follows a couple stretches of the world-famous John Muir Trail, descending it on the last day past a calendar-photo vista of Half Dome, Liberty Cap, and Nevada Fall.

Vernal Fall, beside the Mist Trail in Yosemite National Park.
Vernal Fall, beside the Mist Trail in Yosemite National Park. Click photo to get my help planning your Yosemite adventure.

See my story “Where to Backpack First Time in Yosemite” for a description of this route, and a much more detailed description with complete trip-planning guidance in my e-book “The Best First Backpacking Trip in Yosemite,” which also covers alternate multi-day hiking itineraries beginning and ending at various trailheads ringing this core area of the park, including routes from Tuolumne Meadows and stunning Tenaya Lake. Click here to see all e-books available at The Big Outside, including three trips in Yosemite.

This is Yosemite’s most popular area for backpacking; permits are hard to get. See “How to Get a Yosemite or High Sierra Wilderness Permit.”

And check out “The 10 Best Backpacking Trips in Yosemite,” “Hiking Half Dome: How to Do It Right and Get a Permit,” and all stories about backpacking in Yosemite at The Big Outside.

See my five-level difficulty rating system in “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”

 

Young kids hiking the Gunsight Pass Trail in Glacier National Park.
My kids hiking the Gunsight Pass Trail in Glacier National Park.

Glacier’s Glorious Gunsight Pass Trail

Distance: 20 miles
Difficulty: Moderate

Mountain goat along Glacier National Park's Gunsight Pass Trail.
Mountain goat along Glacier’s Gunsight Pass Trail.

Much of the more than 700 miles of trails in one-million-acre Glacier National Park traverse remote wilderness, requiring a commitment of multiple days backpacking in northern mountains thick with grizzly bears, where weather can shift. But the 20-mile traverse of the Gunsight Pass Trail, from Gunsight Pass Trailhead to Lake McDonald Lodge, is one of the logistically easiest and shortest multi-day hikes in the park. Both trailheads are on the Going-to-the-Sun Road and served by the park’s free shuttle bus.

Most of all, though, the hike takes in some of the park’s best scenery, including one of its largest rivers of ice, the Blackfoot Glacier (seen from a distance), scores of waterfalls, and backcountry camps at Gunsight Lake and Lake Ellen Wilson that rank among the prettiest in the park.

Spread it out over four days and add the optional, 6.6-mile, out-and-back side hike to Sperry Glacier—which involves more than 1,700 vertical feet of up and down and some steep sections, making it a relatively demanding side hike for many adults and children. That stunning trail ascends steadily across a barren, rocky, more recently deglaciated landscape, and passes through a narrow notch in the cliffs at Comeau Pass to reach an overlook of the Sperry Glacier.

Unlike trails around Logan Pass and Many Glacier, this route is not crowded with dayhikers. I’ve backpacked it twice—the second time with our kids when they were nine and seven, taking three days—and saw mountain goats near Gunsight Pass both times. The moderately graded trail never gets terribly steep, so it feels easier than the distances suggest, although the long descent to Lake McDonald is a thigh-pounder; still, hike it east to west because in the other direction, the day one uphill from Lake McDonald would be a strenuous and long slog, much of it exposed to the hot sun.

See my story “Jagged Peaks and Wild Goats: Backpacking Glacier’s Gunsight Pass Trail,” “5 Reasons You Must Backpack in Glacier National Park,” “How to Get a Permit to Backpack in Glacier National Park,” “10 Backpacking Trips for Solitude in Glacier National Park,” and all stories about backpacking in Glacier at The Big Outside.

I can help you plan any trip you read about at my blog. Find out more here.

A hiker on the West Rim Trail in Zion National Park.
David Ports hiking the West Rim Trail in Zion National Park.

Zion’s Otherworldly West Rim Trail

Distance: 14 miles
Difficulty: Moderate

A mother and young daughter backpacking the West Rim Trail in Zion National Park.
My wife, Penny, and our daughter, Alex, backpacking the West Rim Trail in Zion National Park.

Only in a national park that features The Narrows—which, admittedly, ranks hands-down as one of the best backpacking trips in America and certainly one of the best in the Southwest—could the West Rim Trail be overshadowed. More than a few longtime Zion backcountry denizens have told me the West Rim is their favorite trail in the park—and having dayhiked and backpacked it, I’d say it is, in many ways, just as enchanting as The Narrows.

From the plateau on the trail’s upper sections, you overlook a labyrinth of white-walled canyons and green-topped mesas. Then the trail drops about 2,500 feet in 4.7 miles, zigzagging down a cliff face and through a landscape of towering beehive rock formations and walls streaked in vivid burgundy and salmon hues.

The approximately 14-mile, one-way, north-to-south, mostly downhill hike from Lava Point on Kolob Terrace Road to the Grotto Trailhead in Zion Canyon—requiring a shuttle (available in Springdale)—can be done in one day by fit hikers. But an overnight at one of the campsites along the West Rim Trail lets you see this incomparable scenery in the glorious light of early morning and at sunset, and makes it a more feasible objective for families and novice backpackers. Add just just under a mile for the side hike up Angels Landing, one of the most spectacular and iconic summits in the National Park System.

See my stories about a family backpacking trip on the West Rim Trail, a 50-mile dayhike across Zion that included the West Rim Trail, my e-book to a two-day backpacking trip through Zion’s incomparable Narrows (another relatively beginner-friendly trip), and all stories about Zion at The Big Outside.

See also “7 Great Southwest Backpacking Trips for Beginners,” and read this story about another easy, one- or two-night hike in Capitol Reef National Park’s Spring Canyon.

Read all of this story and ALL stories at The Big Outside,
plus get a FREE e-book! Join now!

 

A young boy backpacking the Olympic coast near Strawberry Point, Olympic National Park.
My son, Nate, backpacking the Olympic coast near Strawberry Point, Olympic National Park.

The Wild Olympic Coast

Distance: 17.5 miles
Difficulty: Easy to Moderate

A young girl hiking past a boulder covered in mussels on the Olympic coast.
My daughter, Alex, hiking past a boulder covered in mussels on the Olympic coast.

Along the 73 miles of seashore within Olympic National Park, you can’t buy fried seafood, ice cream, or a T-shirt. The longest strip of protected wilderness coastline in the contiguous United States, it’s one of the few remaining pieces of ocean-view real estate in the Lower 48 that the explorer Capt. George Vancouver would recognize.

Backpacking the 17.5-mile southern stretch of the Olympic coast from the Hoh River north to La Push Road became one of my kids’ most memorable backpacking trips—mostly for the hours they spent playing in tide pools on the beach (they were nine and seven at the time). But it’s also a hike any adults would find gorgeous and fascinating.

You will walk surprisingly rugged and muddy overland trails in the deep shade of giant trees in one of Earth’s largest virgin temperature rainforests, and scale rope ladders dangling down eroding headlands. Along the beach, you will pass tide pools and boulders teeming with sea stars, mussels, and sea anemones, with sometimes mist-shrouded views of scores of tall stone pinnacles, called sea stacks, rising out of the ocean, some close enough to walk to them at low tide. You may sight seals, sea otters, whales (and to my kids’ delight, lots of slugs).

A fun, beautiful, beginner- and family-friendly trip, especially with school-age kids, it’s also less crowded than the more popular northern stretch of the Olympic coast, an easier permit to obtain—and one of America’s most unique backpacking adventures.

See my story “The Wildest Shore: Backpacking the Southern Olympic Coast.”

See my “10 Tips for Taking Kids on Their First Backpacking Trip
and my very popular “10 Tips For Raising Outdoors-Loving Kids.”

See also “7 Great Southwest Backpacking Trips for Beginners,” and all stories about national park trips and family adventures at The Big Outside.

Whether you’re a beginner or seasoned backpacker, you’ll learn new tricks for making all of your trips go better in my “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” A Practical Guide to Lightweight and Ultralight Backpacking,” and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.” With a paid subscription to The Big Outside, you can read all of those three stories for free; if you don’t have a subscription, you can download the e-book versions of “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” the lightweight and ultralight backpacking guide, and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”

Let The Big Outside help you find the best adventures.
Join now for full access to ALL stories and get a free e-book!

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Get Custom Backpacking Trip Planning from an Expert https://thebigoutsideblog.com/get-custom-backpacking-trip-planning-from-an-expert/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/get-custom-backpacking-trip-planning-from-an-expert/#respond Tue, 27 Jan 2026 10:07:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=46869 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

You’re trying to plan a backpacking trip to a classic national park like Yosemite, Grand Teton, Glacier, Zion, Grand Canyon, or some other park or wilderness area—but you’re not quite sure how to do it or where to go. Or the permit process and planning feel overwhelming. Or you want to ensure it’s the best trip possible. Or you just don’t have time to do all that planning and would rather have an expert do it for you.

Well, you have just landed on your solution.

For three decades, including 10 years that I spent as the Northwest Editor for Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog, I have had the good fortune of hiking and backpacking all over America and the world. I’ve made a living identifying, planning, and writing about great trips.

Ready to get my custom trip planning? Click here now.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


Right now, you can tap into my deep experience through my personalized custom trip planning—saving your valuable time and avoiding problems.

“Michael has opened up America’s spectacular outdoors to me, my son, and my best friend. For a few years now, I have been using his services and advice to visit some of the most beautiful national parks, and we have been able to do hikes that would have been otherwise very hard to plan without his detailed and thorough advice. From choosing where to go tailored to your level of fitness and outdoor knowledge and the time of the year, to every little detail regarding gear, food, permit (this would be particularly impossible without the knowledge of someone like him), etc., he provides a complete plan for any adventure. For us, everything has gone smoothly every time. I look forward to the many trips he will plan for us over the years to come.”

—Johann (comment posted at my Custom Trip Planning page)

Expert Custom Trip Planning

Michael Lanza of The Big Outside below Virginia Falls in Glacier National Park.
Me below Virginia Falls in Glacier National Park. The lead photo at the top of this blog post also shows me in Glacier.

Through my custom trip planning, you receive an in-depth trip plan from me—shaped by our back-and-forth communication to create the best trip for you—that covers all necessary planning, gear tips, detailed guidance on reserving a permit drawn from my deep experience in numerous parks, tips on wildlife, the ideal season and weather, a daily hiking itinerary with recommended campsites, and much more.

I will tell you how to execute your trip on the ground in the safest and most enjoyable way, answering all of your questions—and probably answering questions you didn’t think to ask.

Get the same positive experience that hundreds of other backpackers have enjoyed. See my Custom Trip Planning page for details and hundreds of comments from people like you whom I’ve helped plan a very successful adventure.

“Michael’s custom trip planning services save me many dozens of hours, but more importantly, with his expertise, we are able to have truly amazing vacations, making the most of our limited time together as a family. Michael planned a recent 9-day trip to Southern Utah for me, my husband, and our adult son. We had an incredible time. It’s only a few times a year that we get together and I feel like Michael’s custom trips make these vacations a ‘Wow!’ We hiked Angels Landing (scoring a last-minute permit on our first attempt w/ Michael’s advice). We hiked the spectacular Narrows. Michael’s planning services are a bargain for what you are getting—his top-tier advice on both strategy and tactics. Once you hire Michael, you’ll find yourself dreaming of taking another adventure vacation that Michael can make a reality.”

—Michele (comment posted at my Custom Trip Planning page)

Get my custom trip planning for your best adventure ever! Click here now.

Michael Lanza of The Big Outside above the Schoolroom Glacier and the South Fork of Cascade Canyon, while backpacking the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park.
Me above the Schoolroom Glacier and the South Fork of Cascade Canyon, while backpacking the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park.

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With a premium subscription, you get the best deal available at The Big Outside: one custom trip plan from me, a one-year subscription giving you full access to ALL stories at my blog at 33% off the regular price, plus your choice of any e-book for free.

Or step up to my premier service level, a Talk to Michael subscription, which includes a comprehensive phone consultation with me to brainstorm trip ideas, discuss any trip you have in mind, and talk gear or any questions you have, plus one full, written custom trip plan and other benefits.

Wondering whether I can help you? Email me at info@thebigoutsideblog.com.

“Have done several trips with Michael… and he NAILED it again. We did the Alta Via 2 in the Italian Dolomites. Best scenery in my 45 years of backpacking. Michael’s trip planning was critical as choosing the routes and rifugios can be prohibitively time-consuming. Lots to consider from the altitude/distance each day to the ‘exposure’ of the trails. Michael’s planning made that part simple and enabled us to not only do something we would otherwise not had the time to do, but to focus on having fun and the scenery vs. being worried about logistics! As I have said, he has worked with us on domestic US/Canada trips as well, taking a lot of the time and work out of planning. I highly recommend him and his amazing breadth of experience.”

—John (comment posted at my Custom Trip Planning page)

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The 10 Best National Park Backpacking Trips https://thebigoutsideblog.com/the-10-best-national-park-backpacking-trips/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/the-10-best-national-park-backpacking-trips/#comments Mon, 26 Jan 2026 10:00:32 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=27712 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Olympic, Grand Canyon, Yosemite, Glacier, Zion, Grand Teton, Mount Rainier, Canyonlands, Sequoia, Great Smoky Mountains. To backpackers, these names read like a list of America’s greatest cathedrals in nature—and no surprise, because these parks harbor some of the most scenic wilderness trails in the country. Hike any of them and it will earn a spot on your personal top-10 list. Knock off every trip on this list and you will experience some of the finest landscapes not only in the nation, but on the planet.

Over the past three decades—including the 10 years I was a field editor for Backpacker magazine and longer running this blog—I’ve had the good fortune of backpacking dozens of trips in our national parks—and multiple trips in the most-beloved parks. Countless thousands of miles later, this list represents my picks for the very best multi-day hikes you will find in America’s national parks.

Ready to be blown away? Read on and discover your next unforgettable trip.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A backpacker hiking the Ptarmigan Tunnel Trail above Elizabeth Lake in Glacier National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking the Ptarmigan Tunnel Trail above Elizabeth Lake in Glacier National Park. Click photo for my e-book to “The Best Backpacking Trip in Glacier National Park.”

The descriptions below have links to feature-length stories about those trips, with numerous photos and often a video. While anyone can read part of those stories for free, reading them in full—including tips and details on planning those trips—is an exclusive benefit for paid subscribers to The Big Outside.

See my E-Books page for my detailed, expert e-books to several of the trips described below, and my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you plan any trip you read about at my blog, customizing it to your preferences and answering all of your questions about it.

A backpacker on the Teton Crest Trail, Death Canyon Shelf, Grand Teton National Park.
David Gordon backpacking the Teton Crest Trail over Death Canyon Shelf in Grand Teton National Park. Click photo for my expert e-book to backpacking the Teton Crest Trail.

Remember that all of these parks require a backcountry permit, which can be hard to get; apply for a permit reservation as soon as they become available, often months in advance. Find the smartest strategies for navigating that application process in my “10 Tips For Getting a Hard-to-Get National Park Backcountry Permit.”

Please share your thoughts or questions and offer your own trip suggestions in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments and answer any questions.

Want to start with a fairly easy trip?
See “10 Perfect National Park Backpacking Trips for Beginners.”

A young boy backpacking the wilderness coast of Olympic National Park.
My son, Nate, backpacking the wilderness coast of Olympic National Park.

The Wild Olympic Coast

Distance: 17.5 miles, 2 to 3 days
Why It’s Unique: Sea stacks, giant trees, beach campsites, exciting rope ladders, abundant sea life.

A backpacker descending a rope ladder at the north end of the Goodman Creek overland trail on the southern coast of Olympic National Park.
My wife, Penny, descending a rope ladder at the north end of the Goodman Creek overland trail on the southern coast of Olympic National Park.

Backpacking the 17.5-mile southern stretch of Olympic National Park’s 73-mile-long wilderness coastline, you will walk in the shadow of scores of sea stacks rising up to 200 feet out of the ocean and giant trees in one of Earth’s largest virgin temperature rainforests. You will see tide pools and boulders teeming with sea stars, mussels, and sea anemones while hiking along the beach, traverse surprisingly rugged and muddy overland trails, and scale rope ladders dangling down eroding headlands.

You also just may spot seals, sea otters, and whales. A fun, beginner- and family-friendly trip, especially with school-age kids, it’s also less crowded than the more popular northern stretch of the Olympic coast and a relatively easier permit to obtain.

See my story “The Wildest Shore: Backpacking the Southern Olympic Coast.”

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A backpacker hiking down the South Kaibab Trail in the Grand Canyon.
Todd Arndt backpacking down the South Kaibab Trail in the Grand Canyon. Click photo for my e-guide to this trip.

Grand Canyon Traverse

Distance: 21 to 23.5 miles, 2 to 3 days
Why It’s Unique: Incomparable canyon vistas, geology older than life on Earth, unforgettable campsites, desert oases and wildflowers.

Bright Angel Creek along the Grand Canyon's North Kaibab Trail.
Bright Angel Creek along the Grand Canyon’s North Kaibab Trail.

Backpacking across the Grand Canyon via either of two possible routes on the three main “corridor” trails—the South Kaibab or Bright Angel with the North Kaibab—is truly a hike like no other in the world. From long vistas spanning the Grand Canyon’s staggering vastness of towering rock formations and almost 40 geologic layers, to immersion in tributary canyons with soaring walls and waterfalls, your perspective constantly changes. Every backpacker should take this trek or other multi-day hikes in the Big Ditch.

While there are no “easy” trips that descend into the Grand Canyon, this route is definitely the most amenable for beginner backpackers or first-timers there. My expert e-book “The Best First Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon” lays out in detail everything you need to know to plan and take this trip.

But given the enormous demand for backcountry permits on those three trails, other options are easier to get a permit for. Experienced backpackers seeking a higher-level adventure may want to check out my stories “Backpacking the Grand Canyon’s Thunder River-Deer Creek Loop,” “‘Let’s Talk Water:’ Backpacking the Grand Canyon’s Gems,” “Not Quite Impassable: Backpacking the Grand Canyon’s Royal Arch Loop,” and “The Best Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon,” and my expert e-book to the last one, also titled “The Best Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon.”

See “10 Epic Grand Canyon Backpacking Trips You Must Do,” “5 Reasons You Must Backpack in the Grand Canyon,” “How to Get a Permit to Backpack in the Grand Canyon,” and all stories about backpacking in the Grand Canyon at The Big Outside.  

Get my expert e-books to “The Best Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon,” and the easier trip described above, “The Best First Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon.”

A backpacker hiking Clouds Rest in Yosemite National Park.
Mark Fenton backpacking up Clouds Rest in Yosemite. Click photo for my e-book “The Best Backpacking Trip in Yosemite.”

Yosemite South of Tuolumne Meadows

Distance: 65 to 74 miles, 5 to 8 days
Why It’s Unique: Famous landmarks like Half Dome, Clouds Rest, Tenaya Lake, Nevada Fall, and Tuolumne Meadows, plus some of Yosemite’s most-remote wilderness.

A hiker on "The Visor" of Half Dome in Yosemite.
Todd Arndt on “The Visor” of Half Dome.

This just may be the perfect Yosemite backpacking trip: You see iconic vistas like the view from atop the sheer, 2,000-foot Northwest Face of Half Dome, and enjoy the solitude and scenery of one of Yosemite’s largest chunks of wilderness, the remote Clark Range in the park’s southeast quadrant.

Besides Half Dome, this 65-mile hike’s highlights include another of the best summits in the park, Clouds Rest (1,000 feet higher than Half Dome); thunderous, 594-foot-tall Nevada Fall; the stunning granite domes of Tuolumne and Tenaya Lake and the peaks of the Vogelsang area; the highest pass crossed by a trail in Yosemite, Red Peak Pass in the Clark Range; and the lakes and creeks at the headwaters of the Merced River. Permit and camping regulations and how you plan out the daily itinerary dictate whether you hike 65 or 74 miles (the latter involving more but shorter days as well as a bit of backtracking, but following a more moderate itinerary).

See my story about that trip, “Best of Yosemite: Backpacking South of Tuolumne Meadows,” which provides basic details on planning it as a rigorous 65-mile hike (and requires a subscription to read in full); and my expert e-book “The Best Backpacking Trip in Yosemite,” which gets into much greater detail about planning and taking that trip on a moderate 74-mile itinerary.

See also my story about a comparably remote and gorgeous, 87-mile hike, “Best of Yosemite: Backpacking Remote Northern Yosemite,” and my expert e-book to that trip, “The Best Remote and Uncrowded Backpacking Trip in Yosemite,” which includes shorter variations of it.

Backpackers with less experience or hitting Yosemite for the first time may prefer to check out my story “Where to Backpack First Time in Yosemite” and my very popular e-book “The Best First Backpacking Trip in Yosemite.”

Check out “The 10 Best Backpacking Trips in Yosemite,” “Backpacking Yosemite: What You Need to Know,” and all stories about backpacking in Yosemite at The Big Outside.

You want to backpack in Yosemite? See my e-books to three amazing multi-day hikes there.

A backpacker on the Highline Trail in Glacier National Park.
Jerry Hapgood backpacking the Highline Trail in Glacier National Park. Click photo for my e-book “The Best Backpacking Trip in Glacier National Park.”

Glacier’s Northern Loop Made Better

Distance: 65 miles, 5 to 6 days
Why It’s Unique: Megafauna like mountain goats, bighorn sheep, moose, elk, and grizzly and black bears, breathtaking mountain scenery, primal wilderness.

Backpackers hiking the Piegan Pass Trail in Glacier National Park.
Backpackers hiking the Piegan Pass Trail in Glacier National Park.

Few places in the continental United States harbor the breadth of megafauna found in Glacier. You will likely see mountain goats, bighorn sheep, elk, and moose—and quite possibly black and grizzly bears. Neck-craning cliffs slash into Montana’s big sky, and glaciers pour down mountainsides.

This 65-mile route expands on the popular, 52-mile Northern Loop from Many Glacier, adding Piegan Pass and the entire Highline Trail to create arguably the best multi-day hike in Glacier. It also features the Many Glacier area, Stoney Indian Pass, the Ptarmigan Wall and Ptarmigan Tunnel, and some of the park’s finest lakes and most-remote wilderness. Have a sense of urgency about this trip: The park’s glaciers are on the fast track to extinction.

Get my expert e-books to backpacking Glacier’s Northern Loop and the Continental Divide Trail through Glacier.

See my story “Descending the Food Chain: Backpacking Glacier National Park’s Northern Loop,” and my expert e-book “The Best Backpacking Trip in Glacier National Park,” which covers all the details on planning that trip, including my tips on the best way to do it and best campsites.

See also “How to Get a Permit to Backpack in Glacier National Park.”

A traverse through Glacier on the Continental Divide Trail offers a similarly complete Glacier experience, overlapping part of the Northern Loop while taking in other areas that rank among the prettiest corners of the park. See my stories “Wildness All Around You: Backpacking the CDT Through Glacier” and “Déjà vu All Over Again: Backpacking in Glacier National Park,” my e-book “Backpacking the Continental Divide Trail Through Glacier National Park,” and all stories about backpacking in Glacier at The Big Outside.

I’ve helped many readers plan unforgettable backpacking and hiking trips.
Want my help with yours? Click here now.

A backpacker on day two in The Narrows of Zion National Park.
David Gordon backpacking on day two in The Narrows, Zion National Park. Click photo for my e-book to backpacking Zion’s Narrows.

Zion’s Narrows

Distance: 16 miles, 2 days
Why It’s Unique: A narrow canyon with towering, multi-hued walls, hanging gardens, and pools to wade.

A backpacker on day two in The Narrows, Zion National Park.
David Gordon in Zion’s Narrows.

Little wonder that Zion’s Narrows is one of the most sought-after backcountry permits in the National Park System. With sandstone walls that rise up to a thousand feet tall and close in to just 20 to 30 feet apart, the Narrows of the North Fork of the Virgin River has few, if any rivals among the canyons of the Southwest.

Hiking in shallow water for much of the route’s 16 miles, you’ll gradually descend deeper and deeper as the canyon scenery evolves, marveling at the sight of water pouring from solid rock and enjoying one of your most unusual nights of backcountry camping.

Backpacking The Narrows from top to bottom delivers a far superior experience to dayhiking it partway up from the bottom, with real solitude and some of the trip’s best scenery and tightest narrows in the upper canyon, which bottom-up dayhikers never see.

Read my story “Luck of the Draw, Part 2: Backpacking Zion’s Narrows.”

Do this trip right using my e-book “The Complete Guide to Backpacking Zion’s Narrows.”

Get full access to ALL stories at The Big Outside,
plus a FREE e-book. Join now!

A backpacker at Lake Solitude on the Teton Crest Trail, Grand Teton National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm at Lake Solitude in the North Fork Cascade Canyon. Click photo for my expert e-book “The Complete Guide to Backpacking the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park.”

The Teton Crest Trail

Distance: 27-39 miles, multiple variations, 3 to 5 days
Why It’s Unique: Big views for much of its distance, beautiful wildflowers and campsites, and that incomparable, mind-boggling Tetons skyline.

A backpacker on the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park.
David Gordon on the Teton Crest Trail in the North Fork Cascade Canyon.

Unquestionably one of America’s premier multi-day treks, the Teton Crest Trail stays above treeline for much of its traverse through the range, with nearly constant, long views of the peaks. Certain spots along the TCT have entered the place-name vocabularies of Tetons aficionados: Death Canyon Shelf, Hurricane Pass, the South and North Forks of Cascade Canyon, Lake Solitude, and Paintbrush Divide, one of the highest points reached by trail in the park, at nearly 11,000 feet.

After more than 20 trips in the Tetons backpacking, climbing, and dayhiking—and most recently backpacking the Teton Crest Trail again in August 2019, with three friends who’d never been on the TCT and loved it every step of the way—I have learned that you can return repeatedly and never fail to be awed by these peaks.

I have also learned the ins and outs of every aspect of this trek, from successfully getting one of the most sought-after backcountry permits in the entire National Park System, to the pros and cons of the various possible hiking itineraries. I share my expert tips in my e-book “The Complete Guide to Backpacking the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park.”

I can also personally help you plan a Teton Crest Trail hike (or any trip you read about at my blog), from experience-based tips on navigating the permit process to a daily hiking itinerary. See my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how—and to read comments from hundreds of readers like you who’ve used my custom trip planning, many of them for the Teton Crest Trail.

See all stories about backpacking the Teton Crest Trail at The Big Outside, including “How to Get a Permit to Backpack the Teton Crest Trail,” “The 5 Best Backpacking Trips in Grand Teton National Park,” and “A Wonderful Obsession: Backpacking the Teton Crest Trail,” about my most-recent trip on the TCT.

Didn’t get a Tetons permit? Check out an excellent hike in its neighbor park. See my story, “In Hot (and Cold) Water: Backpacking Yellowstone’s Bechler Canyon.”

Itching to backpack in the Tetons? See my e-books to the Teton Crest Trail
and the best short backpacking trip in Grand Teton National Park.

A backpacker on the Wonderland Trail in Mount Rainier National Park.
Todd Arndt on the Wonderland Trail west of Sunrise in Mount Rainier National Park. Click photo for my e-book to backpacking the Wonderland Trail.

Mount Rainier’s Wonderland Trail

Distance: 93 miles, 8 to 10 days
Why It’s Unique: Roaring rivers gray with glacial “flour,” countless waterfalls, giant trees, incomparable wildflowers, and ever-changing views of ice- and snow-cloaked Mount Rainier.

Backpackers in Moraine Park on the Wonderland Trail in Mount Rainier National Park.
Backpackers in Moraine Park on the Wonderland Trail in Mount Rainier National Park.

One of America’s best multi-day hikes—especially of more than a week—the Wonderland Trail makes a 93-mile, strenuously up-and-down circuit of the peak widely considered the queen of the Pacific Northwest, if not of the entire Lower 48: 14,411-foot Mount Rainier.

The Mountain boggles the mind. Seeing it appear as you round a bend can stop you in your tracks in disbelief over its staggering relief. The Wonderland Trail features innumerable waterfalls and views of Rainier, and some of the best wildflower meadows you will ever walk through.

Don’t underestimate this trip’s strenuousness: With a cumulative elevation gain and loss of over 44,000 feet, the trail regularly dishes up 2,000-foot and 3,000-foot ascents and descents. But the difficulty also depends on planning logistics like which direction you hike the loop and where to begin it, all of which I cover in detail in my expert e-book “The Complete Guide to Backpacking the Wonderland Trail in Mount Rainier National Park.”

Plus, there isn’t another multi-day hike quite like it.

See my stories “5 Reasons You Must Backpack Mount Rainier’s Wonderland Trail,” “How to Get a Permit to Backpack Rainier’s Wonderland Trail” and “An American Gem: Backpacking Mount Rainier’s Wonderland Trail,” about a recent 77-mile hike on what I consider the WT’s best sections (a route described as one of the alternate itineraries in my e-book), and “Wildflowers, Waterfalls, and Giant Slugs at Mount Rainier,” about a three-day, 22-mile family backpacking trip from Mowich Lake to Sunrise.

If you strike out on a Wonderland permit, consider another big multi-day hike a bit farther north in Washington’s Cascades that’s described in my story, “Primal Wild: Backpacking 80 Miles Through the North Cascades.”

Click here now to get my expert e-book
“The Complete Guide to Backpacking the Wonderland Trail in Mount Rainier National Park.”

Young kids backpacking over the Big Spring Canyon-Squaw Canyon pass in the Needles District, Canyonlands National Park.
Our kids hiking over the Big Spring Canyon-Squaw Canyon pass in the Needles District, Canyonlands National Park. Click photo to read about this trip.

The Needles District of Canyonlands

Distance: 7 to 20+ miles, 2 to 3 days
Why It’s Unique: 300-foot-tall, candlestick-like pinnacles, natural arches, narrow slot canyons.

Young boy hiking the Chesler Park Trail, Needles District, Canyonlands National Park, Utah.
My son, Nate, hiking the Chesler Park Trail in the Needles District of Canyonlands.

Waves of rippling rock look like a petrified ocean on a red planet. Sandstone spires rise up to 300 feet tall, with giant heads bigger around than the column on which they sit. Stratified cliffs stretch for miles.

The Needles District doesn’t have the severe, strenuous elevation gain and loss endemic to backpacking in the Grand Canyon and some other Southwest canyons. What it does have is fascinating geology that provides something of a Southwest canyons highlights tour.

Scarce water sources pose the biggest challenge, but the distances between them aren’t too great to prevent inexperienced backpackers from exploring Chesler Park and Big Spring, Squaw, and Lost canyons, as well as the Peekaboo Trail.

This relatively easy hike, with a variety of route options, explores a landscape that’s different in many ways from other favorite corners of the Southwest canyon country.

See my story “No Straight Lines: Backpacking and Hiking in Canyonlands and Arches National Parks.”

Are you up for a more difficult and remote multi-day hike with greater solitude and mind-blowing scenery? Check out my story “Farther Than It Looks: Backpacking the Canyonlands Maze.”

Explore the best of the Southwest. See “The 15 Best Hikes in Utah’s National Parks
and “The 12 Best Backpacking Trips in the Southwest.”

A campsite at Precipice Lake in Sequoia National Park.
A campsite at Precipice Lake in Sequoia National Park. Click photo to read about this trip.

Sequoia’s Mineral King Area

Distance: 40 miles, 4 to 6 days
Why It’s Unique: Beautiful lakes and campsites, jagged granite peaks, passes over 11,000 feet, and backcountry groves of giant sequoias.

A young girl backpacking in Sequoia National Park.
My daughter, Alex, at Precipice Lake in Sequoia National Park.

Looking for a full-value High Sierra backpacking adventure?

This 40-mile loop from Sequoia’s Mineral King area delivers (see lead photo at top of story), from passes up to 11,630 feet high with sweeping views of the majestic southern High Sierra to tranquil backcountry groves of giant sequoias that you may have all to yourselves.

I found the scenery photogenic around every turn, with row upon row of huge, granite spires looming thousands of feet above deep canyons, and campsites beside crystalline mountain lakes reflecting cliffs and razor-sharp peaks—and campsites that made my list of the 25 best spots I’ve ever slept in the backcountry.

While the John Muir Trail and popular paths in Yosemite do not typically offer much solitude, this trip shows a quieter side of the High Sierra without compromising on natural beauty.

See my story “Heavy Lifting: Backpacking Sequoia National Park.”

I’ve helped many readers plan this trip in Sequoia and others in the High Sierra. See my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help plan your next trip.

Planning your next big adventure? See “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips
and “The 25 Best National Park Dayhikes.”

A view from the Appalachian Trail in Great Smoky Mountains National Park.
A view from the Appalachian Trail in Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Click photo to read about this trip.

Bottom to Top in the Great Smoky Mountains

Distance: 34 miles, 3 to 4 days
Why It’s Unique: Unparalleled forest diversity, long views from the Appalachian Trail, and lovely streams and cascades.

Noland Creek in Great Smoky Mountains National Park.
Noland Creek, Great Smoky Mountains National Park.

While the Great Smokies may appear out of place on a list of Western national parks, there are good reasons why these forested mountains are beloved by backpackers.

I discovered their magic on a 34-mile loop from near Fontana Lake up to a stretch of the Appalachian Trail along the park’s crest. That grand tour of this half-million-acre park included rocky streams tumbling through cascades; some of the 1,600 species of flowering plants (76 listed as threatened or endangered); and gazing out over an ocean of blue ridges from 6,643-foot Clingmans Dome and the park’s highest bald, 5,920-foot Andrews Bald.

I also found a surprising degree of solitude, even during the fall foliage season.

See my story “In the Garden of Eden: Backpacking the Great Smoky Mountains” and all stories about hiking and backpacking in western North Carolina at The Big Outside.

Whether you’re a beginner or seasoned backpacker, you’ll learn new tricks for making all of your trips go better in my “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” A Practical Guide to Lightweight and Ultralight Backpacking,” and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.” With a paid subscription to The Big Outside, you can read all of those three stories for free; if you don’t have a subscription, you can download the e-book versions of “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” the lightweight and ultralight backpacking guide, and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”

See all stories with expert backpacking tips at The Big Outside.

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5 Reasons You Must Backpack Mount Rainier’s Wonderland Trail https://thebigoutsideblog.com/5-reasons-you-must-backpack-mount-rainiers-wonderland-trail/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/5-reasons-you-must-backpack-mount-rainiers-wonderland-trail/#comments Sat, 24 Jan 2026 10:34:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=41150 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

There are many good reasons the 93-mile Wonderland Trail encircling Washington’s Mount Rainier ranks among the most popular backpacking trips in the country. And yet, backpackers who’ve never attempted this loop around the third-highest peak in the Lower 48 may have questions about what it’s like. If you have not hiked all or part of the Wonderland Trail, read on to learn more about why you should—and perhaps learn some myth-busting truths about this iconic and challenging trail.

The Wonderland Trail certainly belongs on any list of America’s best backpacking trips—and I say that having hiked most of the best (some of them multiple times) over more than three decades, including the 10 years I spent as the Northwest Editor of Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog. That’s because the Wonderland possesses nearly all of the qualities that make for a great multi-day hike—most conspicuously the countless views, from all angles, of the most heavily glaciated peak in the Lower 48, 14,410-foot Mount Rainier, a sight that inspires beyond all expectations.

In fact, at the end of my most-recent trip there, a 77-mile hike on most of the Wonderland Trail, two friends and I—all of us very experienced and widely traveled backpackers—concurred that we had come to Rainier with high expectations for the Wonderland, and the trail exceeded them.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A backpacker on the Wonderland Trail in Mount Rainier National Park.
Todd Arndt backpacking the Wonderland Trail in Mount Rainier National Park. Click photo to get my help planning your Wonderland Trail hike.

Not many backpacking trips in the country are harder to get a permit for than the Wonderland. See “How to Get a Permit to Backpack Rainier’s Wonderland Trail” and “10 Tips for Getting a Hard-to-Get National Park Backcountry Permit” and get my e-book “The Complete Guide to Backpacking the Wonderland Trail Around Mount Rainier” to learn everything you need to know to plan and take this classic trip.

And see my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can put together a completely customized plan for you to backpack part or all of the Wonderland Trail.

If you have backpacked the Wonderland or have other questions or suggestions about it, please share them in the comments section below. I try to respond to all comments.

Here are five reasons every serious backpacker must hike the Wonderland Trail.

Click here now to get my expert e-book
“The Complete Guide to Backpacking the Wonderland Trail in Mount Rainier National Park.”

Backpackers and lupine on the Wonderland Trail in Mount Rainier National Park.
Backpackers and lupine on the Wonderland Trail in Mount Rainier National Park.

1. It’s ‘Next Level’

What do I mean by “next level?” Well, that could be interpreted in at least a couple of different ways—including that the Wonderland has next-level scenery (more on that below).

But for many backpackers, a 93-mile hike that may take upwards of eight to 10 days will be the longest and perhaps most demanding multi-day hike they have ever done. The physical, mental, and logistical challenges inherent to a hike of that distance provides excellent preparation for a longer thru-hike, such as the John Muir Trail or a more obscure and lonely long-distance trail like the Idaho Wilderness Trail; a section or all of a long-distance footpath like the Appalachian Trail, Pacific Crest Trail, or the Continental Divide Trail through Glacier National Park; or simply longer and more demanding backpacking trips in places like the remotest corners of Yosemite, the “best backpacking trip in the Grand Canyon,” or the North Cascades.

The Wonderland also delivers a powerful sense of accomplishment—a strong reward, whether it’s for backpackers gaining experience or a family whose children are ready for this level of challenge and parents trying to inspire and raise their kids to love the outdoors. See my stories “10 Tips for Taking Kids on Their First Backpacking Trips,” “10 Tips for Raising Outdoors-Loving Kids,” “12 Tips for Getting Your Teenager Outdoors With You,” and “The 10 Best Family Outdoor Adventure Trips.”

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A backpacker descending toward Granite Creek on the Wonderland Trail in Mount Rainier National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm descending toward Granite Creek on the Wonderland Trail in Mount Rainier National Park. Click photo for my expert e-book to backpacking the Wonderland Trail.

2. It’s Challenging, But Feasible

A backpacker hiking the Spray Park Trail in Mount Rainier National Park.
Todd Arndt hiking the Spray Park Trail in Mount Rainier National Park.

Make no mistake: Any backpacking trip of nearly 100 miles is a serious undertaking, but the Wonderland Trail amplifies the arduousness, subjecting backpackers to a constant succession of long ascents and descents—many of them 2,000 to 3,000 vertical feet—between alpine ridge crests of volcanic rock and wildflower meadows and deeply shaded forest in valley bottoms.

The Wonderland Trail profile at nps.gov/mora/planyourvisit/upload/Wonderland-Profile-2018_Web.pdf shows at least 45,000 vertical feet of cumulative elevation gain and loss over the trail’s 93 miles (roughly 500 feet of up and down per mile, a moderate grade overall, although the WT has steeper sections). And that doesn’t include the variation many backpackers take off the WT onto the Spray Park Trail, which entails about 1,000 more feet of cumulative elevation gain and loss than the section of the Wonderland Trail it skirts (between the Carbon River and Mowich Lake).

Still, the Wonderland Trail shouldn’t be considered experts-only terrain. Despite its challenges, the WT does not pose the difficulties of some long, hard hikes.

The trail is well-marked and obvious—no one who can read a map will get lost. Well-spaced, designated campsites with poles for hanging food give backpackers a known destination each night with little risk of bear problems (and no need to carry a bear canister). While there are rocky sections with difficult footing, much of the trail consists of a soft treadway of packed dirt and conifer needles that’s easy on feet, leg joints, and the body overall. (It’s no mystery why many ultra-runners and hikers gravitate to it.)

If you’re looking to step up your game as a backpacker, the Wonderland Trail is a great place to do just that.

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including my expert trip-planning tips, plus get a FREE e-book. Join now!

 

Mountain goats along the Wonderland Trail in Mount Rainier National Park.
Mountain goats along the Wonderland Trail in Mount Rainier National Park. Click photo for my expert Wonderland Trail e-book.

3. You Will Probably See Wildlife

On our first day on the Wonderland Trail, we saw a black bear (from a distance, and it immediately dashed away), marmots—and nearly 30 mountain goats. Over the course of our hike, we also spotted perhaps two dozen more mountain goats and saw and heard pikas, both in alpine areas, and observed elk tracks in mud on the trail in deep forest.

In fact, Mount Rainier National Park—which spans an elevation range of about 13,000 feet—hosts 65 mammal species, including deer, mountain lions, fisher, and American marten (or pine marten), as well as 14 species of amphibians, five species of reptiles, 182 species of birds, and 14 species of native fish. While it lacks apex predators like grizzly bears and wolves, the Wonderland does not lack for thrilling wildlife sightings.

I can help you plan this or any other trip you read about at my blog. Find out more here.

Backpackers crossing the bridge over Fryingpan Creek along the Wonderland Trail in Mount Rainier National Park.
Backpackers crossing the bridge over Fryingpan Creek along the Wonderland Trail in Mount Rainier National Park.

4. It Can Be Hiked in Sections

Yes, 93 miles sure is a really big walk. Throw in more than 45,000 feet of combined elevation gain and loss and the words “really big walk” seem inadequate. But you need not feel compelled to eat that entire meal at your first sitting.

My first backpacking trip on the Wonderland Trail covered just part of its northern section, between Berkeley Park and the Carbon River, when I hiked Rainier’s 32.8-mile Northern Loop (a solo trip that unexpectedly turned into a tense adventure). My second WT hike traversed its southernmost stretches. On my third, with my family when our kids were nine and seven, we hiked from Mowich Lake across Spray Park and covered the gorgeous WT stretch from the Carbon River to Sunrise.

Plan your next great backpacking trip in Yosemite, Grand Teton,
and other parks using my expert e-books.

Finally, after the Wonderland sat on my to-do list for years, two friends and I took a 77-mile hike on most of the trail—including the sections I had not yet hiked previously. Read my feature story about that trip, “An American Gem: Backpacking Mount Rainier’s Wonderland Trail.”

With several access points at road crossings in the park, the WT offers numerous opportunities to backpack—or take ultra-hikes or runs on—sections of varying lengths.

My e-book “The Complete Guide to Backpacking the Wonderland Trail Around Mount Rainier” tells you everything you need to know to plan and take this classic trip and includes several shorter, alternative itineraries describing section hikes on the WT.

After the Wonderland Trail, hike the other nine of
America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips.”

 

A backpacker on the Wonderland Trail in Mount Rainier National Park.
Todd Arndt on the Wonderland Trail in Mount Rainier National Park. Click photo to get my help customizing your Wonderland Trail backpacking trip.

5. It’s… Incredible

Any conversation about the quality of a hike always circles back to the scenery—and in that regard, the Wonderland equals its name and deserves top-tier status alongside classics like the Teton Crest Trail, John Muir Trail, and premier hikes in flagship parks like Yosemite, Glacier, and the Grand Canyon.

Backpackers in Moraine Park on the Wonderland Trail in Mount Rainier National Park.
Backpackers in Moraine Park on the Wonderland Trail in Mount Rainier National Park.

Why? There are the meadows choked with an abundance and variety of wildflowers matched in few places. The crystalline creeks and rivers gray and frothing with “glacial flour.” Waterfalls leaping off cliffs and cascades plunging and roaring for hundreds of feet. Mountain lakes shimmering in sunshine or offering a mirror image of Mount Rainier. Intensely quiet and enchanting forests of giant trees like Douglas fir, western red cedar, and western hemlock at lower elevations and subalpine fir and mountain hemlock growing in islands amid sprawling meadows at higher elevations.

And all of that frequently showcases a backdrop of “The Mountain,” as Rainier is known to Washingtonians. Cloaked in crack-riddled glaciers, Rainier ranks third among all U.S. mountains—behind only Alaska’s Denali and Hawaii’s Mauna Kea—in topographical prominence, a measure of how high a peak rises above its surroundings, which for Rainier is 13,210 feet. It often fills the horizon at a seemingly unbelievable scale.

As you round yet another turn on the Wonderland to discover another meadow or cross another river, Rainier appears suddenly in surprising places, stealing your breath away.

Given all of its qualities, any adventure-seeking backpacker would have to contemplate the question: How many reasons do you need to walk the Wonderland Trail?

Go there. It is the kind of adventure that validates itself over and over and stays with you long afterward.

See all stories with expert backpacking tips at The Big Outside.

Read my feature story about a 77-mile hike on most of the Wonderland Trail, “An American Gem: Backpacking Mount Rainier’s Wonderland Trail.” See also “The Best Hikes in Mount Rainier National Park.”

Whether you’re a beginner or seasoned backpacker, you’ll learn new tricks for making all of your trips go better in my “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” A Practical Guide to Lightweight and Ultralight Backpacking,” and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.” With a paid subscription to The Big Outside, you can read all of those three stories for free; if you don’t have a subscription, you can download the e-book versions of “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” the lightweight and ultralight backpacking guide, and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”

Let The Big Outside help you find the best adventures.
Join now for full access to ALL stories and get a free e-book!

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A Teton Crest Trail Permit Shouldn’t Be So Hard to Get https://thebigoutsideblog.com/a-teton-crest-trail-permit-shouldnt-be-so-hard-to-get/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/a-teton-crest-trail-permit-shouldnt-be-so-hard-to-get/#comments Fri, 23 Jan 2026 14:55:41 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=69571 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

At precisely 8 a.m. Mountain Time on Jan. 7, many thousands of Americans logged into recreation.gov/permits/4675342 hoping to reserve a backcountry permit for backpacking sometime this year in Grand Teton National Park. That enormous virtual crowd included me and probably dozens of my blog’s readers, many of whom I’ve heard from. For many, perhaps most, the experience was confusing, frustrating, and unsuccessful.

They saw backcountry camping availability for dates throughout the summer backpacking season disappear within anywhere from five to two minutes (which is exactly what I saw). Some succeeded in selecting nightly camps on specific dates to create an itinerary, only to watch the page freeze when they clicked to book and purchase their reservation—and they subsequently received a message indicating that their itinerary was no longer available.

A backpacker on the Teton Crest Trail, North Fork Cascade Canyon, Grand Teton National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking the Teton Crest Trail in the North Fork Cascade Canyon, Grand Teton National Park. Click photo to see all stories at The Big Outside about backpacking in Grand Teton National Park.

By that point, just a few minutes after the reservations page opened, many or probably most users saw no more backcountry camping availability for building a multi-day Teton Crest Trail itinerary on any summer dates this year.

And here’s the thing: It doesn’t have to be that way. In fact, other large and popular national parks have recreation.gov permit pages that function much more smoothly. Those parks employ methods in their reservation systems, like lotteries, that clearly help eliminate the chaos seen every January when Grand Teton National Park (GTNP) opens reservations.

To provide a little background: In recent years, many large national parks with vast areas of wilderness moved their backcountry permit reservation systems over to recreation.gov. That move has replaced internal national park reservation systems that were often clunky and frustrating for countless users.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A backpacker above the South Fork Cascade Canyon on the Teton Crest Trail, Grand Teton N.P.
Todd Arndt above the Schoolroom Glacier and the South Fork Cascade Canyon. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan this trip.

I’m deeply familiar with current and past permit reservation systems in our national parks. I have personally reserved scores of backcountry permits over three decades working as a professional backpacker, including the 10 years I spent as a field editor with Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog.

From what I’ve seen in many parks, the switch to recreation.gov has been a resounding success, easing what can be an inherently difficult process for users—as well as making it more equitable and speeding up both the reservation procedure itself and the confirmation of permits. Under past permit reservation systems, it could take several weeks for some parks to notify applicants whether they had been issued a permit reservation—and even into this decade, at least one major national park required permit applications to be faxed in. (To anyone born in this century, a fax machine is… well, never mind, it’s not important.)

Now, for many parks using recreation.gov, that takes anywhere from several days to just minutes. As much as anything, these permit reservation systems in recreation.gov have mostly become more transparent, clear, and consistent, greatly reducing the stress of trying to use a system that doesn’t operate efficiently and keeps you waiting for weeks to learn the results.

Along with the Teton Crest Trail, hike the other nine of
America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips.”

 

A backpacker on the Teton Crest Trail on Death Canyon Shelf, Grand Teton National Park.
David Gordon backpacking the Teton Crest Trail on Death Canyon Shelf, Grand Teton National Park.

That’s the good news.

The bad news is that, while GTNP also moved its permit reservations over to recreation.gov a few years ago, it has not adopted some of the most effective improvements to the process of reserving a backcountry permit that other parks employ.

And it’s frankly difficult to understand why Grand Teton does not emulate any of those existing, working examples of a well-functioning permit reservation system.

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A backpacker on the Teton Crest Trail.
Todd Arndt backpacking the Teton Crest Trail. Click photo to see “The 5 Best Backpacking Trips in Grand Teton National Park.”

Frustrated Users

Since Jan. 7 of this year (2026), I have heard from many readers of this blog who’ve purchased either my e-books to trips in Grand Teton (and other national parks) or my Custom Trip Planning service to get my personalized help planning their trips (including navigating the permit-reservation process in many parks), all of them sharing their experience with GTNP’s recreation.gov page.

Few of those experiences were positive.

Susannah Clark, of Melrose, Mass., attempted to reserve a permit for five nights in camping zones along the Teton Crest Trail in September, logically figuring she would see less demand for permits than in August. It “was a complete disaster,” she wrote to me. She observed that because everyone who wants to reserve a permit sees the page to view camping availability at exactly the same instant, many are undoubtedly trying to figure out how to navigate it while availability is rapidly disappearing.

Planning a backpacking trip? See “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips
and “10 Tips for Taking Kids on Their First Backpacking Trip.”

A backpacker on the Teton Crest Trail, Grand Teton National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking the Teton Crest Trail above the North Fork Cascade Canyon. Click photo for my e-book “The Complete Guide to Backpacking the Teton Crest Trail.”

And it appears that, as one would expect, huge numbers of users select the exact same camping zones for the exact same dates. They might then believe they have completed an itinerary, but upon clicking the Book Now button, only a small number can receive confirmation of that specific itinerary; the rest receive a message that their itinerary is no longer available.

Clark was not able to reserve a permit at all.

“Holy smokes, is this system distressing!” Clark wrote. “People who are not comfortable with computers, are unfamiliar with the system, are not available at those exact five minutes, are never going to get an advance permit to hike the Teton Crest Trail; and if you don’t live nearby (I live on the East Coast), just jetting out and hoping for a walk-in permit is a risky investment.”

Doug Bagley, of Salt Lake City, also had a Teton Crest Trail itinerary built that was suddenly “not available” when he clicked the Book Now button. He started over repeatedly with other camping zone options and dates from early July to late September and had them in his cart but kept receiving a “not available” message. He wrote to me: “I put in a lot of time to familiarize with three different four-night backpacking itineraries. I used your guide, which was awesome. I read every thread about the online process.

“I had no chance,” Bagley wrote. “Way too many moving parts even though I thought I understood the process. I have applied for and gotten backcountry permits in Yosemite. I would rather go into a lottery like that than compete for them (in this way).”

Dennis Gawlik, of Bainbridge Island, Wash., who used my Custom Trip Planning and managed to reserve a permit on Jan. 7 for part of the Teton Crest Trail, hopes to modify it walk-in when he arrives at the park—and his dates are late September, when he realizes new snow could force him to either cancel his trip or alter his itinerary. He described to me a GTNP permit reservation experience that was “fast and hectic.”

As with other people, Gawlik attempted numerous dates and camping zone options but saw availability repeatedly disappear, destroying his various itineraries. “Yes, 8:05 a.m. was when things went really south—all booked.”

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The Teton Crest Trail on Death Canyon Shelf in Grand Teton National Park.
The Teton Crest Trail on Death Canyon Shelf in Grand Teton National Park.

Five minutes after GTNP opened reservations, it had become impossible to reserve a Teton Crest Trail permit.

Brothers Richard Serpe, of Cream Ridge, N.J., and Ed Serpe of Cambridge, Mass., both repeat users of my Custom Trip Planning, were among a group of people attempting to reserve a permit in January 2025—hoping that at least one of them would succeed.

They told me: “During the first 60 to 120 seconds (after reservations opened), we were each able to get one or two of our desired camps but failed to get everything we needed. Pretty much after the 120-second mark there was no going back, everything was booked solid at the camps on the desirable itinerary for the dates we were looking for.”

But while the rest of the group was attempting to reserve a standard permit for up to six people, Richard tried for a group permit for seven—and succeeded. “Honestly? It was almost anticlimactic. I got it with no trouble at all,” he wrote to me.

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A backpacker on the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking the Teton Crest Trail n Grand Teton National Park. Click photo for my e-book “The Complete Guide to Backpacking the Teton Crest Trail.”

Full disclosure: I was able to build a three-night Teton Crest Trail itinerary on Jan. 7 and lock it in after clicking Book Now, but I did not complete the purchase because the early September dates I chose conflicted with other plans I have; I mainly wanted to see how the system was functioning (and I immediately canceled my chosen itinerary). But I’m also much more familiar with recreation.gov and GTNP’s reservations page and camping zones than most people. And I also found virtually everything booked up for the entire summer season by 8:05 a.m.

“You should not have to be a professional permit seeker to be able to hike the national parks,” Susannah Clark wrote to me. “I really like the Grand Canyon system (on recreation.gov). It’s a little more cumbersome” because Grand Canyon National Park, like some other parks, uses an early-access lottery (more on that below), “but it is so much easier and relaxed, and you are less likely to have a heart attack from the stress of getting a permit,” Clark added.

(If you’ve had a recent experience trying to reserve a backcountry permit in Grand Teton National Park or other parks on recreation.gov, however well or poorly it went, please share it in the comments section at the bottom of this story.)

Plan your next great backpacking trip on the Teton Crest Trail, Wonderland Trail,
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A backpacker at Lake Solitude on the Teton Crest Trail, Grand Teton National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm at Lake Solitude in the North Fork Cascade Canyon. Click photo to get my help planning your backpacking trip on the Teton Crest Trail or any trip you read about at this blog.

How Grand Teton Compares to Other National Parks

Many large and popular parks, like Grand Teton, receive far greater demand for permits than they have backcountry camping availability every year. That, of course, creates an unavoidable, competitive situation: Many people will fail to obtain a permit simply due to demand.

However, GTNP’s permit system is such an outlier in how it’s organized that it seems to compound the difficulty of reserving a permit—all while there are examples of national park permit systems that are set up to eliminate or at least minimize chaos.

To understand the issue better, it’s helpful to compare GTNP’s permit reservation system with those of other large, wilderness-based parks that are very popular with backpackers:

Score a popular permit using my
10 Tips For Getting a Hard-to-Get National Park Backcountry Permit.”

 

A backpacker beneath Virginia Falls along the Continental Divide Trail in Glacier National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm beneath Virginia Falls while backpacking the Continental Divide Trail in Glacier National Park.
  • In Yosemite, wilderness permit reservations are issued based on trailhead quotas, with 60 percent of permit reservations available through a weekly rolling lottery at recreation.gov/permits/445859. You can enter the lottery anytime during any weeklong period and you will find out two days after that lottery ends whether you got a permit reservation; if not, you have time to enter the following week’s rolling lottery for a specific window of dates. The remaining 40 percent of permits are made available at recreation.gov/permits/445859 seven days in advance of a trip start date.
  • Since the beginning of 2024, Grand Canyon has issued about 80 percent of backcountry permits through a monthly, two-week-long, early-access lottery at recreation.gov/permits/4675337, and everyone who enters a lottery, no matter when, will have an equal chance of being selected. The lottery awards up to 750 applicants a date and time between the 4th and 17th of the following month when they can attempt to reserve a backcountry permit before reservations open to the general public; and the park expects that most of those 750 people will get a permit. The park issues about 20 percent of backcountry permits walk-in.
  • Also in 2024, Glacier started conducting two early-access backcountry permit lotteries at recreation.gov/permits/4675321, on March 1 for large groups of nine to 12 people and on March 15 for standard groups of one to eight people, and all applicants during these 24-hour lottery periods have an equal chance of being selected. Standard group lottery winners will get an email on March 17 with a date and time between March 21 and April 30 when they can attempt to make one permit reservation, competing against a small group of other lottery winners, before reservations open to the general public. Glacier makes 70 percent of backcountry campsites available for reservations and 30 percent of campsites for walk-in permits no more than one day in advance.
  • Mount Rainier issues permits for two-thirds of backcountry campsites through an early-access lottery held from Feb. 10 through March 3 for preferential time slots to reserve a permit at recreation.gov/permits/4675317 for trips from May 1 through Oct. 11. Lottery winners are awarded a date and time on or after March 21 to make a permit reservation competing against a limited number of other applicants, giving them much better chances of getting a permit for the Wonderland Trail and popular climbing routes. The remaining one-third of backcountry permit availability is issued walk-in.
  • Yellowstone also conducts an early-access lottery from March 1-20 for backcountry permit reservations at recreation.gov/permits/4675323 for trips between May 15 through Oct. 31. Lottery winners will receive a date and time between April 1-24 when they can reserve a permit competing against a limited number of other lottery winners, providing the best chance of getting a permit for a popular backpacking trip like Bechler Canyon. About 75 percent of backcountry campsites can be reserved and the remaining 25 percent are available for walk-up permits issued no more than two days in advance of a trip.

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A backpacker on the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park.
David Gordon backpacking the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park.

In sharp contrast to those parks, in Grand Teton, for trips between May 1 and Oct. 31, permit reservations opened for everyone at recreation.gov/permits/4675342 starting at 8 a.m. Mountain Time on Jan. 7, 2026. (The date sometimes varies slightly each year.) Everyone seeking a permit flooding that page simultaneously has resulted in the system getting overwhelmed and popular backcountry camping zones, like those along the Teton Crest Trail, getting booked up for the entire season within minutes.

Plus, unlike other parks that open a majority of their backcountry permit availability to reservations (the examples above range from 60 to 80 percent), GTNP allows just one-third of available permits to be reserved, leaving two-thirds available first-come, for walk-in backpackers, no more than one day before a trip begins.

By not making a larger pool of backcountry permits available to reserve in advance—and not spreading out the demand over a longer period of time, or conducting an early-access or other type of lottery, GTNP effectively amplifies the chaos of trying to reserve a permit.

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A moose along the Teton Crest Trail, North Fork Cascade Canyon, Grand Teton National Park.
A moose along the Teton Crest Trail in the North Fork Cascade Canyon. Click photo to read about my most recent backpacking trip on the Teton Crest Trai.

Why is It Like This When It Could Be Better?

From what I’ve seen, it has been standard practice for many years within the National Park Service (NPS) to allow individual parks to manage backcountry permit reservations as they see fit. There are reasons for enabling local control: Most parks have trails and trailheads that see much higher demand than other areas—examples would include the John Muir Trail through Yosemite, Grand Canyon’s corridor trails (South and North Kaibab and Bright Angel), and Glacier’s Northern Loop. Parks may issue permits based on trailhead quotas or on backcountry camping quotas. Their peak seasons for backpacking may vary a bit or significantly from one another.

Still, having backpacked multiple times in all of the parks mentioned in this story as well as many others, I cannot imagine a logical reason why Grand Teton National Park could not adopt strategies employed successfully in other, similarly large and popular parks—strategies that have made the process of reserving a backcountry permit smoother, faster, and more equitable. Those parks have accomplished that despite the inherent challenges of seeing more demand than there is backcountry camping availability throughout their peak season.

It seems to me that by allowing individual parks to determine how their own backcountry/wilderness permit reservation system functions, the NPS essentially allows each park to repeat the mistakes of other parks. The argument that allowing each park to experiment with different ways of issuing permits makes sense only when all of them are adopting recreation.gov at the same time—or at least in the same year—and none have any real-world experience with it yet.

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A backpacker on the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking the Teton Crest Trail on Death Canyon Shelf in Grand Teton National Park. Click photo for my expert e-book to backpacking the Teton Crest Trail.

But that’s not the case now. Some parks have been using recreation.gov for at least a few years—and some popular parks that see huge demand for wilderness permits, like Yosemite, use a system that works remarkably well. This begs the question: If examples exist of successful systems, why stick with a system that real-world experience has demonstrated is flawed?

I reached out to the National Park Service’s Office of Communications via email with my questions for this story, hoping they could educate me or at least make sense of GTNP’s permit system. They told me that GTNP staff estimate about 38,000 to 42,000 backcountry “user nights” each year, with roughly one-third coming from advance reservations.

Beyond that statistic, the NPS communications staff response, frankly, did not address the specific critiques and questions I had submitted regarding GTNP’s permit system. In fact, their response was so vague that it could be describing permit reservation systems in any national park.

Lake Solitude, Teton Crest Trail, North Fork Cascade Canyon, Grand Teton National Park.
Lake Solitude, Teton Crest Trail, North Fork Cascade Canyon, Grand Teton National Park. Click photo to see all photos for sale at The Big Outside, including this one.

Here is part of their response, lightly edited, but it captures the overall content of their response:

“The high-demand and limited opportunity nature of permits often make them difficult to obtain. Park staff evaluate the effectiveness of their permit operation and adjust over time to improve the customer experience. Demand for permits varies from park to park and by specific areas within each park. In some cases, local managers will receive thousands of permit applications for just a few dozen opportunities. Popularity and high demand for the permit is a primary reason a park will decide to utilize a lottery system to allocate permit reservations. People looking for a very specific hike (such as particular sites on the Crest Trail) may not always find those exact options available.”

The Tetons are Beloved by Many Backpackers

The Tetons are one of my very favorite mountain ranges. I’ve taken probably at least two dozen trips there over the years since my first one more than 30 years ago: backpacking, dayhiking, climbing several peaks, backcountry skiing—even paddling a canoe on String and Leigh lakes. I’ve seen black bears, several moose, certainly marmots and pikas, even a huge bull elk right outside my tent late one night (on my very first Teton Crest Trail hike).

I will return again to backpack; and at some point, with some amount of luck, I’ll reserve yet another Grand Teton National Park backcountry permit.

I’ve been thinking about writing this story for a few years but had previously held off in the hopes that GTNP would change for the better “this year.” That has not happened yet and the flaws in their permit system only grow more glaring every year.

I’m sure that GTNP managers are trying to create the safest and most enjoyable backcountry experience for all visitors. I fully support the need for a permit system to place controls and limits on the numbers of people camping in the backcountry of America’s major wilderness parks—without such a system, these places would quickly get trashed, trails and campsites overused and heavily eroded, fragile ecosystems damaged and wildlife constantly harassed and stressed by too many humans invading their spaces. I respect all the good, committed NPS employees who protect our parks, who are motivated largely by a love for them.

I’m merely saying that there are obvious, better ways for Grand Teton National Park to run their system for reserving backcountry permits. I hope they will make changes to improve their system at least before the date that they open reservations for 2027.

See all stories about backpacking in Grand Teton National Park at the Big Outside.

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The 10 Best Backpacking Trips in Yosemite https://thebigoutsideblog.com/the-5-best-backpacking-trips-in-yosemite/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/the-5-best-backpacking-trips-in-yosemite/#comments Mon, 19 Jan 2026 10:05:22 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=28133 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

After more than three decades of exploring all over Yosemite on numerous backpacking trips, I’ve learned two big lessons about it: First of all, few places inspire the same powerful combination of both awe and adventure. And Yosemite’s backcountry harbors such an abundance of soaring granite peaks, waterfalls, lovely rivers and creeks, and shimmering alpine lakes—plus, over 700,000 acres of designated wilderness and 750 miles of trails—that you can explore America’s third national park literally for decades and not run out of five-star scenery.

Yosemite exceeds expectations in many ways, including this truth: Its reputation for crowds just doesn’t square with the reality of backpacking throughout most of the park. Yes, Yosemite Valley sees insane numbers of tourists, and a few of the park’s trails—like the Mist Trail and Half Dome—are among the most popular in the country.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


May Lake in Yosemite National Park.
May Lake in Yosemite National Park.

But most of the park’s backcountry isn’t crowded. I once interviewed a retired backcountry ranger who’d worked for 37 years in Yosemite, 25 years as wilderness manager, and had hiked every trail in Yosemite “probably about 10 times.” He told me that only about 10 percent of the park’s hundreds of miles of trails—from Happy Isles to Donohue Pass (mostly the John Muir Trail) and the Sierra High Camps loop—accounts for about 80 percent of all trail use. Little Yosemite Valley alone accounts for almost 20 percent. And the average length of backpacking trips is just two nights.

Consequently, he said, “There are areas of the park where you will see very few people.”

A hiker on Half Dome's cable route in Yosemite National Park.
Mark Fenton scaling Half Dome’s cable route in Yosemite.

Wander into the park’s vast backcountry and you will find some of the very best scenery in Yosemite—along with a surprising degree of solitude.

This article describes the 10 best backpacking trips in Yosemite, from the core between Yosemite Valley and Tuolumne Meadows—including Half Dome—to the John Muir Trail, the Clark Range and southeast corner, and the vast wilderness of northern Yosemite. These trips range in length from roughly 30 miles to nearly 90 miles, and from beginner friendly to serious adventures in the park’s wildest corners.

I’ve backpacked all of these trips—and others across Yosemite—over more than three decades of getting to know this park very well, including the 10 years I spent as a field editor with Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog.

Each trip described below has a link to a story about it that provides more detail (reading those stories in full, including key trip-planning details, requires a paid subscription), and some descriptions have a link to one of my three Yosemite e-books, which provide much more detail on how to plan and prepare for that trip.

See my expert e-books to three great backpacking trips in Yosemite—including “The Best First Backpacking Trip in Yosemite”—and my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you plan any of these classic adventures, variations of them, another Yosemite trip, or any trip you read about at The Big Outside.

Please tell me what you think of the trips described below, share your questions, or suggest your own favorite backpacking trip in Yosemite in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

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A view from the John Muir Trail of Half Dome, Liberty Cap, and Nevada Fall in Yosemite National Park.
A view from the John Muir Trail of Half Dome, Liberty Cap, and Nevada Fall in Yosemite. Click photo for my e-book “The Best First Backpacking Trip in Yosemite.”

Understanding Yosemite’s Wilderness Permit System

In Yosemite, wilderness permit reservations are issued based on daily trailhead quotas on the number of people, which vary between trailheads, with special rules for backpacking the John Muir Trail. For trips from late April through late October, 60 percent of trailhead quotas can be reserved through a rolling lottery at recreation.gov/permits/445859 that begins on the Sunday up to 24 weeks in advance of the date you want to start hiking and runs for a week, with the lottery for each specific window of dates closing at 11:59 p.m. the following Saturday.

Planning a backpacking trip? See “Backpacking Yosemite: What You Need to Know
and “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips.”

 

Looking northeast from Mule Pass in Yosemite National Park.
Looking northeast from Mule Pass in remote northern Yosemite. Click photo to read about this trip.

The remaining 40 percent of permits are made available at recreation.gov/permits/445859 at 7 a.m. Pacific Time seven days in advance of a trip start date.

Popular trailheads—including Happy Isles in Yosemite Valley and most of the trailheads in the Tuolumne Meadows area—fill very quickly. There are lower-demand trailheads in the park where you can more likely reserve a permit less than 24 weeks in advance.

See “How to Get a Yosemite or High Sierra Wilderness Permit” and my “10 Tips For Getting a Hard-to-Get National Park Backcountry Permit.”

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Yosemite’s Best Backpacking Trips

A hiker atop Half Dome in Yosemite National Park.
Mark Fenton on The Visor of Half Dome, high above Yosemite Valley, in Yosemite National Park.

Little Yosemite Valley and Half Dome

Let’s acknowledge this up front: Any list of Yosemite’s best backpacking trips must include this route from the park’s most popular trailhead to its most popular backcountry camp and the summit so famous and popular that the park requires a permit for hiking the cable route up it whether while backpacking or on a dayhike.

A hiker below Nevada Fall on the Mist Trail in Yosemite National Park.
My wife, Penny, below Nevada Fall on the Mist Trail in Yosemite National Park.

Many thousands of people attempt the strenuous hike up Half Dome, about 16 miles round-trip with almost 5,000 feet of elevation gain and loss from the Happy Isles Trailhead in Yosemite Valley, in one big day. Backpacking it as an overnighter with a camp in Little Yosemite Valley spreads out the effort over two days—a more reasonable objective for many hikers.

Having the camp also makes it easier to reach the 8,800-foot crown of Half Dome ahead of the wave of more than 200 dayhikers permitted to hike Half Dome each day, enjoying something closer to solitude for the incomparable view of Yosemite Valley and 360-degree panorama of a big swath of the park’s mountains.

From Happy Isles, ascend the Mist Trail past 317-foot Vernal Fall and 594-foot Nevada Fall to reach Little Yosemite Valley. Dayhike Half Dome from your camp, and then descend the northernmost leg of the John Muir Trail back to Happy Isles—or skip Half Dome and turn this into an easy overnight of under 10 miles total, ideal for beginner backpackers or families with young kids. And understand: This is the hardest wilderness permit to get in Yosemite.

Read more about this hike in my blog post “Where to Backpack First Time in Yosemite,” and find much more detailed information on how to plan this trip, including variations of this route and insider tips in getting a permit for it, in my e-book “The Best First Backpacking Trip in Yosemite.”

I can help you plan any trip you read about at my blog—and I know the tricks for getting a Yosemite wilderness permit. Click here to learn more.

A backpacker hiking over Clouds Rest in Yosemite National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking over Clouds Rest in Yosemite National Park. Click the photo for my e-book “The Best First Backpacking Trip in Yosemite.”

Yosemite Valley to Half Dome, Clouds Rest, and Sunrise

A hiker on "The Visor" of Half Dome, above Yosemite Valley.
Todd Arndt on “The Visor” of Half Dome, above Yosemite Valley.

Planning your first backpacking trip in Yosemite and want to hit all the famous highlights—on a route that’s also beginner-friendly? Take this 37.2-mile hike from Happy Isles Trailhead in Yosemite Valley.

Essentially an extended version of the above hike, this route from the Happy Isles Trailhead loops through the core of the park, including the Mist Trail past Vernal and Nevada Falls, the cable route up Half Dome, the spectacular summit of Clouds Rest, a section of the John Muir Trail, and a view of the Cathedral Range from your campsite at Sunrise. 

Probably the most popular backpacking trip in Yosemite of more than one or two nights—ranked behind its shorter variation to Little Yosemite Valley and Half Dome (above)—it usually includes at least one night at Little Yosemite Valley. Expect a lot of competition for this permit and plan alternative routes in case you don’t get it.

Read more about this hike in my blog post “Where to Backpack First Time in Yosemite,” and find much more detailed information on how to plan this trip, including variations of this route and insider tips in getting a permit for it, in my e-book “The Best First Backpacking Trip in Yosemite.”

See also my tips on hiking Half Dome.

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Backpackers hiking to Vogelsang Pass in Yosemite National Park.
Backpackers hiking to Vogelsang Pass in Yosemite National Park. Click photo for my e-book “The Best Backpacking Trip in Yosemite.”

Tuolumne Meadows to Tenaya Lake

The roughly 30-mile traverse from the Rafferty Creek Trailhead at the eastern end of Tuolumne Meadows to the Sunrise Lakes Trailhead at Tenaya Lake features not only those two amazing spots, but the panorama of mountains from Vogelsang Pass, the beautiful canyon of the Merced River, the view of the Cathedral Range from Sunrise, and relatively quiet sections of trail.

This hike passes three of the park’s High Sierra Camps—Vogelsang, Merced Lake, and Sunrise—where you can stay in tent cabins and have all meals prepared for you, or stay in DIY backpacker campgrounds. This route is popular because it’s relatively accessible, scenic, and offers the convenience of using the free shuttle buses that operate between trailheads throughout the Tuolumne area.

This is described as an alternative route in my e-book “The Best First Backpacking Trip in Yosemite,” which provides a wealth of information on how to prepare for and take a backpacking trip in Yosemite.

Planning your next big adventure? See “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips
and “Tent Flap With a View: 25 Favorite Backcountry Campsites.”

White Cascade (Glen Aulin Falls), near Glen Aulin in Yosemite National Park.
White Cascade (Glen Aulin Falls), near Glen Aulin in Yosemite National Park. Click photo for my expert help planning your Yosemite trip.

The High Sierra Camps Loop

A hiker on the John Muir Trail below Cathedral Peak, Yosemite National Park.
Heather Dorn hiking the John Muir Trail in Yosemite.

One of the park’s most popular and scenic multi-day hikes, this roughly 47-mile loop from Tuolumne Meadows offers a signature Yosemite experience on a highlights tour around the Cathedral Range to the five High Sierra Camps: Glen Aulin, May Lake, Sunrise, Merced Lake, and Vogelsang.

You’ll enjoy views of granite domes and Cathedral Peak’s distinctive sharp profile; overlooks of the magnificent Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne River and several waterfalls, including 594-foot Nevada Fall from a perch near its brink; gorgeous May Lake, Tenaya Lake, and Merced Lake; wildflower-choked meadows and crystalline creeks—and a surprisingly amount of solitude on sections of the loop, considering its easy access from several points.

There are ways to shorten the loop or lengthen it, options for side hikes to more lakes, waterfalls, and summits—including two of the best in Yosemite, Mount Hoffmann and Clouds Rest—and create alternate routes or start and finish from various trailheads, all of which can help you obtain a highly coveted wilderness permit. It’s also a beginner-friendly hike feasible for families and new backpackers, with amenities like toilets in all the backpacker campgrounds adjacent to the High Sierra camps (and the option of booking tent cabins in a High Sierra camp for every night and carrying only a daypack).

See photos and more about this area of the park in my stories “Where to Backpack First Time in Yosemite” and “Best of Yosemite: Backpacking South of Tuolumne Meadows,” and find more detailed information on planning variations of this route in my e-book “The Best First Backpacking Trip in Yosemite.”

See some of Yosemite’s best scenery on “The 12 Best Dayhikes in Yosemite.”

Backpackers hiking over Clouds Rest in Yosemite National Park.
Backpackers hiking over Clouds Rest in Yosemite National Park. Click photo for my e-book “The Best First Backpacking Trip in Yosemite.”

Tuolumne Meadows to Yosemite Valley

Something of a classic ultra-dayhike or trail run—because it’s so darn beautiful but also predominantly downhill going in this direction—the approximately 19-mile traverse from the Cathedral Lakes Trailhead in Tuolumne to the Happy Isles Trailhead in Yosemite Valley follows an easy section of the John Muir Trail below the distinctive spire of Cathedral Peak; offers a choice between camping by or visiting the Cathedral Lakes or overlooking the meadows of Sunrise and the Cathedral Range; plus a chance to hike the cable route up Half Dome; and a second camp at Little Yosemite Valley before descending to the Valley via either the Mist Trail or JMT to the Valley.

Half Dome (left) and Yosemite Valley seen from the summit of Clouds Rest in Yosemite National Park.
Half Dome (left) and Yosemite Valley seen from the summit of Clouds Rest in Yosemite National Park.

Take the less-direct but thrilling detour from Sunrise to the 9,926-foot summit of Clouds Rest, one of the very best mountaintops in all of Yosemite (and far less busy than Half Dome), adding more than three miles and over a thousand feet of uphill and downhill. You will also have to choose between descending the more direct but steeper Mist Trail pass Nevada and Vernal Falls or the slightly longer and still scenic John Muir Trail, which bypasses the waterfalls.

This traverse requires a lengthy shuttle, but you can make the logistics much shorter and easier by finishing at the Sunrise Lakes Trailhead beside Tenaya Lake instead. And you could still hike Clouds Rest from the backcountry camp at Sunrise.

This hike crosses the popular area of the park described in my blog post “Where to Backpack First Time in Yosemite.” See also my e-book “The Best First Backpacking Trip in Yosemite.”

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A backpacker hiking Indian Ridge, overlooking Half Dome in Yosemite National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking Indian Ridge, overlooking Half Dome in Yosemite. Click photo to read about “Yosemite’s Best-Kept Secret Backpacking Trip.”

Yosemite Valley’s North Rim to Ten Lakes Basin

The 45-mile near-loop from Tioga Road may best illustrate the opportunities Yosemite offers to enjoy some of the park’s marquis scenery without running into conga lines of backpackers or dayhikers. The route scampers along one rim of Yosemite Valley—including one of the best Valley overlooks—and explores a lakes basin at 9,000 feet before finishing at one of the park’s prettiest lakes.

A friend and I spent our first evening in the backcountry alone atop a dome, soaking in a horizon that spanned from Half Dome to El Capitan and beyond; our second night beside a beautiful creek after a day of seeing few other people; and our third evening overlooking a lake, while hiking for hours at a time each day in solitude. And yet, almost incomprehensively, this area doesn’t see nearly the same demand for a coveted wilderness permit as Yosemite’s most popular trailheads. You could say this hike is hiding in plain sight.

I wrote about this trip in my feature story “Yosemite’s Best-Kept Secret Backpacking Trip,” which includes my tips on planning it yourself.

If you want to thru-hike the JMT, see “How to Get a John Muir Trail Wilderness Permit
and “Thru-Hiking the John Muir Trail: What You Need to Know.”

See “Backpacking Yosemite: What You Need to Know,” “How to Get a Yosemite or High Sierra Wilderness Permit,” and all stories about backpacking in Yosemite National Park at The Big Outside.

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How to Get a Yosemite or High Sierra Wilderness Permit https://thebigoutsideblog.com/how-to-get-a-yosemite-or-high-sierra-wilderness-permit/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/how-to-get-a-yosemite-or-high-sierra-wilderness-permit/#respond Mon, 19 Jan 2026 10:02:56 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=50516 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Ah, the High Sierra. Yosemite. Sequoia and Kings Canyon national parks. The John Muir Wilderness and Ansel Adams Wilderness, Mount Whitney, and countless other, less famous but equally beautiful places. Every backpacker who has ever walked for days through any of these wildlands holds them in special reverence—and for good reasons, given this seemingly infinite landscape’s constellations of sharply pointed granite peaks and alpine lakes, too many waterfalls to name, and rivers and creeks so pretty they make your heart glad. Plus, with thousands of miles of trails, you could spend a lifetime wandering here without seeing it all.

Little wonder there’s so much competition for backcountry permits throughout most of the High Sierra. But read on because the time for planning and reserving a permit for trips this summer is coming up fast.

This story gives you the necessary details for reserving a wilderness permit to backpack in Yosemite and Sequoia-Kings Canyon national parks, at Mount Whitney, and in the Inyo National Forest, including the John Muir, Ansel Adams, Golden Trout, and Hoover wildernesses, which all require a permit.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A backpacker hiking Indian Ridge, overlooking Half Dome, in Yosemite National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking Indian Ridge, overlooking Half Dome, in Yosemite National Park.

If you want to know how to get a wilderness permit for a John Muir Trail thru-hike or section hike, see “How to Get a John Muir Trail Wilderness Permit.”

I also offer below tips on how to maximize your chances of getting a highly coveted permit, sharing expertise I’ve acquired from numerous trips throughout the High Sierra over more than three decades, including the 10 years I spent as Northwest Editor of Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog.

See all of my blog’s stories about backpacking in Yosemite, the High Sierra, and Sequoia-Kings Canyon national parks. Most of those stories require a paid subscription to The Big Outside to read in full, including my expert tips and information on planning each hike. See also my expert e-books to multi-day hikes in Yosemite and other parks.

Backpackers hiking the High Sierra Trail in Sequoia National Park.
Backpackers on the High Sierra Trail in Sequoia National Park.

I’ve helped many readers plan backpacking trips in Yosemite, Sequoia, on the John Muir Trail, and throughout the High Sierra, answering all of their questions (and many they didn’t think to ask) and customizing an itinerary ideal for them. See my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you and read hundreds of comments from others who’ve received my custom trip planning.

Click on any photo to read about that trip, park, or trail. Please share any thoughts or questions about this story, or your own tips, in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

See “10 Great John Muir Trail Section Hikes.”

A backpacker at Evolution Lake on the John Muir Trail in Evolution Basin, Kings Canyon National Park.
Marco Garofalo at Evolution Lake on the John Muir Trail in Evolution Basin, Kings Canyon National Park.

Apply As Soon As Possible, Months in Advance

Know the dates to apply for a specific agency’s wilderness permit. Yosemite, Sequoia-Kings Canyon, Inyo, and Mount Whitney all accept permit reservations months in advance and issue them based on daily trailhead quotas, but with slightly different schedules and procedures (all detailed below).

For Sequoia-Kings Canyon and Inyo, plan to apply at 7 a.m. Pacific Time on the first day possible, exactly six months in advance. Applications show availability in real time, allowing you to secure a permit reservation immediately if there’s availability for your trailhead and start date. If you fail to get one, you can try again the next morning to start one day later.

Yosemite’s rolling lottery—a sensible and user-friendly system created to deal with enormous demand—provides weeklong application periods up to 24 weeks in advance for weeklong sets of dates and you are notified of whether you get a permit reservation within two business days after the lottery closes. Thus, if you strike out in one lottery period, you will have plenty of time to apply for the very next lottery period.

The Mount Whitney lottery allows you to apply anytime between Feb. 1 and March 1 for the entire upcoming season, with results announced March 15.

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A backpacker on the John Muir Trail overlooking the Cathedral Range in Yosemite National Park.
Todd Arndt on the John Muir Trail overlooking the Cathedral Range in Yosemite National Park.

For popular trailheads—though not all trailheads—permits are difficult to get, especially for hiking Mount Whitney, a handful of the most popular trailheads in Yosemite, like Happy Isles, and Sequoia-Kings Canyon, like the High Sierra Trail (and certainly for thru-hiking the JMT starting at either its northern or southern terminus; see this story for tips on getting a JMT permit). That makes it imperative to apply on the earliest date possible.

As I write in my “10 Tips for Getting a Hard-to-Get National Park Backcountry Permit,” the single most-effective strategy for maximizing your chances of getting a permit for a popular trip during its peak season is to consider at least two starting trailheads and itineraries—which requires knowing generally how far you want to walk each day—and a range of date options.

Permits issued by all national parks and forests in the Sierra for trips extending into another park or forest—for example, a John Muir Trail permit for starting in Yosemite and finishing at Whitney Portal—are valid in the other parks and forests for the permit dates. Backcountry campsites are (mostly) not designated or assigned; camp where you like but use sites that have clearly been used previously.

I’ve helped many readers plan unforgettable backpacking and hiking trips.
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A hiker on Half Dome in Yosemite National Park.
Mark Fenton standing on Half Dome, high above Yosemite Valley. Click photo for my e-book “The Best First Backpacking Trip in Yosemite.”

Yosemite Wilderness Permits

In Yosemite—one of America’s 10 best backpacking trips—wilderness permit reservations are issued based on trailhead quotas, with special rules for the John Muir Trail. Popular trailheads, especially in the park’s core between Yosemite Valley and Tuolumne Meadows, get booked up very quickly.

The Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne River, Yosemite.
The Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne River in Yosemite. Click photo for my e-book “The Best Remote and Uncrowded Backpacking Trip in Yosemite.”

For trips from late April through October, 60 percent of all trailhead quota permits can be reserved through a lottery at recreation.gov/permits/445859 beginning at 12:01 a.m. Pacific Time on the Sunday up to 24 weeks (168 days) in advance of the date you want to start hiking, with the lottery for each specific window of dates closing at 11:59 p.m. the following Saturday.

For example, to start a trip between Aug. 9-15, 2026, enter the lottery between Feb. 15 and Feb. 21. You will be notified of the result on Feb. 23 and must accept it (if successful) by Feb. 26 or forfeit it, and remaining reservations become available at 9 a.m. Pacific Time on Feb. 27 at recreation.gov on a first-come, first-served basis.

The remaining 40 percent of permits are made available at recreation.gov/permits/445859 at 7 a.m. Pacific Time seven days in advance of a trip start date. Find more information at nps.gov/yose/planyourvisit/wildpermits.htm, where the park warns: “Do not arrive at Yosemite expecting to get a walk-up wilderness permit. While any unreserved permits will be available in person at wilderness centers on the start date of the trip, few, if any, unused permits will be available.”

There is a non-refundable fee of $10 for each lottery entered or permit reservation plus $5 per person for a confirmed permit reservation.

See “Backpacking Yosemite: What You Need to Know,” “The 10 Best Backpacking Trips in Yosemite,” and all stories about backpacking in Yosemite at The Big Outside, and my expert e-books to three stellar, multi-day hikes in Yosemite, including “The Best First Backpacking Trip in Yosemite.”

Plan your next great backpacking adventure in Yosemite
and other flagship parks using my expert e-books.

A young girl at sunset at Precipice Lake in Sequoia National Park.
My daughter, Alex, watching the sunset at Precipice Lake in Sequoia National Park.

Sequoia-Kings Canyon Wilderness Permits

In Sequoia-Kings Canyon in the southern Sierra, permit reservations open at recreation.gov/permits/445857 up to six months in advance for a trip taking place during the trailhead quota period, which is generally the Friday before Memorial Day through the Saturday between Sept. 23-29; for 2026, the quota season is May 22 to Sept. 26. Permits are issued based on daily trailhead quotas and can be submitted up to one week in advance—although availability for popular trailheads fills up quickly.

The application form requires that you indicate a specific group size with a maximum of 15 people, with lower group size limits in some areas. A “0” on the application form indicates that reservations for that date have not yet opened.

A “W” indicates that all available spots have been reserved and a portion of that trailhead’s quota will become available for backpackers seeking a walk-in/first-come permit (without a reservation) in person at the appropriate park office (depending on where you want to backpack) starting at 1 p.m. no more than a day in advance.

There’s a non-refundable fee of $15 plus $5 per person (refundable if canceled) for each confirmed permit. See nps.gov/seki/planyourvisit/wilderness_permits.htm.

See “Heavy Lifting: Backpacking Sequoia National Park” and all stories about Sequoia-Kings Canyon national parks at The Big Outside.

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A backpacker hiking through Granite Park in the John Muir Wilderness, High Sierra, California.
Jason Kauffman backpacking through Granite Park in the John Muir Wilderness.

Inyo National Forest Wilderness Permits

Popular for its vast wilderness areas sprawling over the High Sierra between Yosemite and Sequoia-Kings Canyon as well as for John Muir Trail section hikes, the Inyo National Forest accepts reservations for 60 percent of trailhead quotas at recreation.gov/permits/233262 starting at 7 a.m. Pacific Time six months before your start date—for example, on Feb. 1 for a trip starting Aug. 1—for trips within the quota season of May 1 through Nov. 1.

If you want to thru-hike the JMT, see “How to Get a John Muir Trail Wilderness Permit
and “Thru-Hiking the John Muir Trail: What You Need to Know.”

A backpacker hiking the John Muir Trail above Marie Lake in the John Muir Wilderness, High Sierra.
Marco Garofalo backpacking the John Muir Trail above Marie Lake in the John Muir Wilderness.

To finish by descending Mount Whitney to Whitney Portal, you must select permit type “Overnight Exiting Mt. Whitney.” Nearly identical to the Sequoia-Kings Canyon form (except for listing different trailheads, of course), the Inyo application allows a maximum of 15 people—although if you’re extending the trip beyond the Inyo, note that Yosemite and Sequoia-Kings Canyon impose limits of eight to 12 people on a permit in some areas. See this list of Inyo National Forest trailheads and quota limits in effect from May 1 to Nov. 1.

Forty percent of Inyo trailhead quotas open for reservations at 7 a.m. Pacific Time two weeks prior to a trip’s start date. See recreation.gov/permits/233262 and fs.usda.gov/main/inyo/passes-permits/recreation, which specifies that the Inyo allows JMT, PCT, and other long-distance backpackers to exit the trail “for a reasonable period of time necessary for resupply,” which presumably would be at least one day. See also this list of trailhead entry points for accessing the JMT.

There’s a non-refundable $6 fee for each permit reservation plus a fee (refundable if canceled at least 12 days in advance) for each confirmed permit of $15 per person for trips entering the Whitney Zone and $5 per person for all other areas of the Inyo. 

See “10 Great John Muir Trail Section Hikes,” “High Sierra Ramble: 130 Miles On—and Off—the John Muir Trail,” and “In the Footsteps of John Muir: Finding Solitude in the High Sierra,” and all stories about backpacking in the High Sierra at The Big Outside.

Get the right gear for the High Sierra. See “The 10 Best Backpacking Packs
and “The 10 Best Backpacking Tents.”

Climbers below the East Face of Mount Whitney.
Climbers below the East Face of Mount Whitney.

Mount Whitney Wilderness Permits

Whether hiking Mount Whitney in a day or overnight, backpacking into this area of the southern Sierra, thru-hiking the JMT northbound or hiking a JMT or PCT section, for trips between May 1 and Nov. 1, all backpackers and dayhikers starting at Whitney Portal and entering the Mount Whitney Zone must enter the permit lottery at recreation.gov/permits/233260 anytime between Feb. 1 and March 1; the form can be viewed but not filled out until Feb. 1.

You choose either a Mount Whitney Zone Day Use permit, good for one date, or a Mount Whitney Zone Overnight permit, good for multiple dates but only the dates on your permit. Permit quotas are 100 people day use and 60 people overnight per day.

Lottery results are announced on March 15. The deadline to confirm a lottery reservation and pay the $15 per person fee is April 21 and reservations for remaining dates open on April 22 at 7 a.m. Pacific Time. Mount Whitney Trail permits are not valid for the North Fork of Lone Pine Creek approach to Mount Whitney climbing routes, like the Mountaineers Route.

See “Roof of the High Sierra: A Father-Son Climb of Mount Whitney.”

Keep Your Group Small

The High Sierra national parks and forests all issue permits based on trailhead quotas on the total number of people starting trips every day and those quotas vary between trailheads. It stands to reason that smaller parties of one to four backpackers will have a better chance of landing a permit than larger groups, whether applying for a permit reservation or trying to get a walk-in permit.

Want to backpack in the High Sierra?
Click here for expert, detailed advice you won’t get elsewhere.

Backpackers hiking over Clouds Rest in Yosemite National Park.
Backpackers hiking over Clouds Rest in Yosemite National Park. Click photo for my e-guide “The Best Backpacking Trip in Yosemite.”

Try for a Last-Minute Permit

Did you not reserve a permit months in advance? It’s still possible to salvage your trip by grabbing a permit in some parts of the High Sierra on much shorter notice.

Yosemite issues 40 percent of wilderness permits at recreation.gov starting at 7 a.m. Pacific Time up to seven days in advance of a trip start date; see nps.gov/yose/planyourvisit/wildpermits.htm (where the park warns: “Do not arrive at Yosemite expecting to get a walk-up wilderness permit… few, if any, unused permits will be available.”). Forty percent of Inyo trailhead quotas do not open for reservations until 7 a.m. Pacific Time two weeks prior to a trip’s start date. Those late-release permits in Yosemite and Inyo enable last-minute planners to still get a reservation without having to travel to their destination and risk not getting any permit. Sequoia-Kings Canyon issues some wilderness permits to walk-ins.

You may not get your preferred starting trailhead but you will likely be able to take some trip. Take the chance and you may find that second or third choice turn out to be an amazing spot that many backpackers happen to ignore.

See all stories with expert backpacking tips at The Big Outside, including “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” and “Tent Flap With a View: 25 Favorite Backcountry Campsites” for my favorite campsites in Yosemite and Sequoia, along the John Muir Trail in Kings Canyon, and below the East Face of Mount Whitney.

Want my expert help custom planning your trip to ensure it’s as good as it can be? See my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you.

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My Most Scenic Days of Hiking Ever https://thebigoutsideblog.com/my-25-most-scenic-days-of-hiking-ever/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/my-25-most-scenic-days-of-hiking-ever/#comments Sat, 17 Jan 2026 10:00:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=18847 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

We can all remember specific places that we consider the best days of hiking we’ve ever had. I’ve been exceptionally fortunate: I have hiked many trails in America and around the world that would probably make anyone’s list of most-scenic hikes. From numerous trips in iconic national parks like Yosemite, Zion, Grand Canyon, and Glacier to the John Muir Trail and Teton Crest Trail and some of the world’s great treks, including the Alta Via 2 in Italy’s Dolomite Mountains, the Tour du Mont Blanc, New Zealand’s Tongariro Alpine Crossing, Iceland’s Laugavegur and Fimmvörðuháls trails, and the icy and jagged mountains of Norway and Patagonia, here’s a list of the hands-down prettiest days I’ve ever spent walking dirt and rock footpaths.

I think you’ll find some places in here to add to your must-do list.

I’ve taken these adventures over the course of more than three decades working as an outdoor writer and photographer, formerly as Northwest Editor of Backpacking magazine for 10 years and even longer running this blog. Many of the photos in this story are from adventures widely recognized as classics, while others are from places you may not have heard of before.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A backpacker at a small tarn in the upper valley of Middle Fork Lake on the Wind River High Route.
Justin Glass at a small tarn in the upper valley of Middle Fork Lake on the Wind River High Route, Wyoming.

This list of my most scenic days of hiking runs to 39—yep, I know that seems like a lot of picks for a list of best days ever. (You should see some of the days I cut from this story.) I think as you go through this list of truly great hikes, you’ll understand my struggle to winnow it any further as you try to decide which of them to prioritize for your own to-do list. I think I’m giving you a whole lot of great choices.

Scroll through the photos and short anecdotes from each trip. They include links to stories at The Big Outside about those places, with my tips and information on how to plan those trips. Like many stories at this blog, part of those stories are free for anyone to read, but reading them in full, including my tips and information on how to plan those trips, is an exclusive benefit for paid subscribers to The Big Outside.

And I can help you plan any of these trips or any other you read about at this blog—giving you the benefit of my many years of professional experience identifying, planning, and successfully pulling off great adventures. See my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you, and my expert e-books to some of America’s and the world’s best backpacking trips and treks.

I’d love to hear what you think of any of my photos or the places shown in them, or upcoming plans you have or are contemplating. Please share your thoughts or questions in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

Happy trails.

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A hiker atop Half Dome, high above Yosemite Valley in Yosemite National Park.
Mark Fenton atop Half Dome, high above Yosemite Valley.

Hiking Yosemite’s Clouds Rest and Half Dome

Traversing the slender summit ridge of 9,926-foot Clouds Rest, we walked what felt like a high wire between sphincter-puckering abysses in the heart of Yosemite National Park. Below one elbow, a drop-off of several hundred feet; on the other side, 4,000 feet—that’s a thousand feet taller than the face of El Capitan. It’s arguably the best summit view in Yosemite and one of the best reached by a trail in all of California’s High Sierra. On the first day of a 151-mile grand tour of that flagship park, four of us walked from the granite-framed shores of Tenaya Lake over Clouds Rest and on to one of America’s most famous summits: Half Dome. And after all that, we still weren’t even finished for the day.

See my story about that hike, “Best of Yosemite: Backpacking South of Tuolumne Meadows,” “The 10 Best Backpacking Trips in Yosemite,” “The 12 Best Dayhikes in Yosemite,” “Backpacking Yosemite: What You Need to Know,” “How to Get a Yosemite or High Sierra Wilderness Permit,” and all stories about backpacking in Yosemite at The Big Outside.

You want to backpack in Yosemite? See my e-books to three amazing multi-day hikes there.

A hiker near Skeleton Point on the South Kaibab Trail in the Grand Canyon.
David Ports hiking the South Kaibab Trail in the Grand Canyon.

Hiking the Grand Canyon Rim to Rim to Rim

We breezed down the narrow crest of the Grand Canyon’s South Kaibab Trail as the first light of day fell on one of the planet’s most magnificent and unfathomable landscapes: a mile-deep chasm with twisting side canyons, walls stacked in multi-colored layers, and an army of stone towers each standing thousands of feet tall. Three friends and I walked across the canyon from the South Rim to the North Rim, and back again—42 miles with over 22,000 feet of up and down—in one very long day. I’ve repeated the r2r2r running and hiking in one day and hiking it over two days. Wherever I hike for the rest of my life, I’m sure I’ll always rank hiking rim to rim among my greatest trail days ever.

See my stories “Fit to be Tired: Hiking the Grand Canyon Rim to Rim in a Day,” “How to Hike the Grand Canyon Rim to Rim in a Day,” “A Grand Ambition, or April Fools? Dayhiking the Grand Canyon Rim to Rim to Rim,” “9 Epic Grand Canyon Backpacking Trips You Must Do,” and all stories about backpacking in the Grand Canyon at The Big Outside.

Do your Grand Canyon hike right with these expert e-books:
The Best First Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon
The Best Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon
The Complete Guide to Hiking the Grand Canyon Rim to Rim

A trekker on the Alta Via 2 north of Ball Pass in Parco Naturale Paneveggio Pale di San Martino, Dolomite Mountains, Italy.
My wife, Penny, hiking the Alta Via 2 north of Ball Pass in Parco Naturale Paneveggio Pale di San Martino, Dolomite Mountains, Italy.

Trekking the Alta Via 2 in the Pale di San Martino, Dolomite Mountains

Often described as “the world’s most beautiful trail,” the Alta Via 2 traces a roughly 112-mile/180km path through northern Italy’s Dolomite Mountains, which thrust a dizzying array of spires and serrated peaks into the sky, gleaming like polished jewels in sunshine and virtually pulsing with the salmon hue of evening alpenglow. On my family’s hut-to-hut trek of a 39-mile/62km section of the AV 2, jaw-dropping views became routine.

Trekkers on the Alta Via 2 in Parco Naturale Paneveggio Pale di San Martino, in Italy's Dolomite Mountains.
My family trekking the Alta Via 2 in Parco Naturale Paneveggio Pale di San Martino, in Italy’s Dolomite Mountains.

But on the day we hiked from the Rosetta Hut (lead photo at top of story), in the sub-range known as the Pale di San Martino, down to the small mountain town of San Martino di Castrozza, we walked below one sheer limestone tower after another on a path that clung to vertiginous mountainsides, sometimes chopped from the face of a cliff.

See my story “The World’s Most Beautiful Trail: Trekking the Alta Via 2 Through Italy’s Dolomite Mountains.”

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A hiker on the West Rim Trail above Zion Canyon in Zion National Park.
David Ports hiking the West Rim Trail in Zion National Park.

Walking Across Zion

From the red-rock Kolob Canyons in the park’s northwest corner to the 2,000-foot, creamy white and blazing burgundy cliffs of Zion Canyon, Zion National Park harbors some of the most uniquely beautiful and beloved natural real estate in the entire National Park System. Hiking 50 miles across the entire park in a day, tagging highlights like Angels Landing and the West Rim Trail, seemed like the perfect way to experience a park without peer. That’s what several friends and I figured, anyway. Our adventure was proof that, even when events don’t proceed quite as planned, it can be a great day.

See my story “Mid-Life Crisis: Hiking 50 Miles Across Zion in a Day,” “The 10 Best Hikes in Zion National Park,” and all stories about Zion National Park at The Big Outside.

Want my help planning any trip on this list?
Click here for expert advice you won’t get anywhere else.

Álftavatn Lake along Iceland's world-famous Laugavegur Trail.
Álftavatn Lake along Iceland’s world-famous Laugavegur Trail. Click photo to get a professional-quality print of this photo and others you see at The Big Outside.

Trekking Iceland’s Laugavegur and Fimmvörðuháls Trails

Nearly every day that my family spent trekking hut to hut on Iceland’s 34-mile/55km Laugavegur Trail and 15.5-mile/25km Fimmvörðuháls Trail struck me as one of the prettiest days of hiking I’ve ever had.

A trekker on the Fimmvorduhals Trail south of Thorsmork, Iceland.
My daughter, Alex, hiking the Fimmvorduhals Trail south of Thorsmork, Iceland.

Among those seven days of hiking, I feel compelled to spotlight four: The morning we spent dayhiking the peak named Bláhnúkur, from the hut at Landmannalaugar in Iceland’s Central Highlands (see the lead photo in this story); our third day on the Laugavegur, hiking from Álftavatn to Emstrur (photo above); and both days on the magnificent Fimmvörðuháls, hiking the spine of a narrow crest between two deep chasms and crossing a moonscape created by recent volcanic eruptions (photo at left) on day one, followed by descending a river valley past more than two dozen big, powerful waterfalls one after another—probably the single best waterfalls trail I’ve ever seen.

My advice: Just go trek both the Laugavegur and the Fimmvörðuháls trails.

See my feature story about my family’s hut trek on these two trails, “A Family Hikes Iceland’s Laugavegur and Fimmvörðuháls Trails,” “9 Great Hikes and Walks Along Iceland’s Ring Road,” and “Earth, Wind, and Fire: A Journey to the Planet’s Beginnings in Iceland.”

Hike one of the world’s great treks using my e-book
The Complete Guide to Trekking Iceland’s Laugavegur and Fimmvörðuháls Trails.”

 

A backpacker on the Highline Trail in Glacier National Park.
Geoff Sears hiking the Highline Trail in Glacier National Park.

Hiking from Many Glacier to Logan Pass, Glacier National Park

In the cool hours of early morning, my hiking partner and I set out from the Many Glacier complex on the east side of the park, heading toward Swiftcurrent Pass and eventually Logan Pass on the Going-to-the-Sun Road: a traverse of 15.2 miles with about 2,000 feet of uphill. Neither of us had hiked these trails before, so we carried no expectations—and were amazed at every turn.

We walked below towering cliffs spliced by ribbon waterfalls, climbed to a notch hundreds of feet above the Grinnell Glacier, and followed the Highline Trail, an alpine footpath with sweeping views of the Northern Rockies where sightings of mountain goats and bighorn sheep are common.

See “The 8 Best Long Hikes in Glacier National Park,” and all stories about Glacier National Park at The Big Outside.

Get my expert e-books to the best backpacking trip in Glacier
and backpacking the Continental Divide Trail through Glacier.

A family trekking the Tour du Mont Blanc in Italy.
My nephew Marco, daughter, Alex, and 80-year-old mom, Joanne, hiking the Tour du Mont Blanc in Italy. Click photo for my expert e-book “The Perfect Plan for Hiking the Tour du Mont Blanc.”

Trekking the Tour du Mont Blanc in the Alps

Some hikes need no introduction. The Tour du Mont Blanc is one of them. One of the most storied, popular, and step-for-step majestic trails on the planet, the roughly 105-mile (170k) footpath around the “Monarch of the Alps,” 15,771-foot (4807m) Mont Blanc, passes through three countries—France, Italy, and Switzerland—delivering a cultural and culinary experience to match the scenery.

While there are few mediocre kilometers on the trek, one of our nine days walking it with family and friends really stood out scenically: day four, hiking from the Rifugio Elizabetta Soldini mountain hut into the resort town of Courmayeur, Italy, below a staggering array of knife-like spires.

See my story “Hiking the Tour du Mont Blanc at an 80-Year-Old Snail’s Pace.”

Save yourself a lot of time and avoid mistakes.
Get my expert e-book “The Perfect Plan for Hiking the Tour du Mont Blanc.”

Sunrise reflection in a tarn above Helen Lake along the John Muir Trail, Kings Canyon N.P.
Sunrise reflection in a tarn above Helen Lake along the John Muir Trail, Kings Canyon N.P.

Backpacking the John Muir Trail from Evolution Basin to Mather Pass

The John Muir Trail, aka “America’s Most Beautiful Trail,” is a 211-mile journey through one of the most picturesque mountain ranges in the country—the High Sierra, which Ansel Adams dubbed “The Range of Light.” When a few friends and I knocked off the JMT in a week, we packed two or three normal days of hiking into each day. (The scenery was morphine for our aching feet.)

A backpacker passing Wanda Lake on the John Muir Trail in Kings Canyon National Park.
Todd Arndt passing Wanda Lake, along the John Muir Trail in the Evolution Basin, Kings Canyon National Park. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan your JMT hike.

But I have to give the edge to the day we ambulated from Evolution Lake in Kings Canyon National Park all the way to the Upper Basin of the South Fork Kings River: past the glassy lakes of the Evolution Basin, over 11,955-foot Muir Pass, through LeConte Canyon with its soaring granite walls, and over 12,100-foot Mather Pass, which we crossed as the setting sun set puffy clouds overhead afire.

I more recently returned to the Evolution Basin on a 130-mile hike, much of it on the JMT, and, yea, it’s still just as pretty as ever.

See all stories about backpacking the John Muir Trail at The Big Outside, including “Thru-Hiking the John Muir Trail: What You Need to Know,” “How to Get a John Muir Trail Wilderness Permit,” “10 Great Section Hikes on the John Muir Trail,” and “Thru-Hiking the John Muir Trail in Seven Days: Amazing Experience, or Certifiably Insane?

After the John Muir Trail, hike the other nine of “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips.”

A backpacker on the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking the Teton Crest Trail on Death Canyon Shelf in Grand Teton National Park. Click photo for my expert e-book to backpacking the Teton Crest Trail.

Two Days Backpacking the Teton Crest Trail

A backpacker on the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park.
David Gordon backpacking the Teton Crest Trail toward Paintbrush Divide.

Having backpacked the Teton Crest Trail multiple times and taken perhaps two dozen hiking, climbing, and backcountry skiing trips throughout the Teton Range, I’ve gotten to know these incomparable peaks pretty well. But the two sections of the TCT that stand out scenically for me are the sections from Death Canyon Shelf to Hurricane Pass and from the North Fork of Cascade Canyon over Paintbrush Divide.

My experiences on those stretches of trail include a bull elk waking us by clomping around just outside our tents; early-morning moose sightings; uninterrupted views of these famously jagged mountains; and endless fields of wildflowers. I’ve had many magical days in the Tetons since my first backpacking trip there more than three decades ago, but I still consider those sections of the TCT its finest.

See my stories “A Wonderful Obsession: Backpacking the Teton Crest Trail,” “5 Reasons You Must Backpack the Teton Crest Trail,” and “10 Great Big Dayhikes in the Tetons,” and all stories about backpacking in Grand Teton National Park at The Big Outside.

Dying to backpack in the Tetons? See my e-books to the Teton Crest Trail and
the best short backpacking trip there.

A hiker on the Navajo Knobs Trail in Capitol Reef National Park, in southern Utah.
My wife, Penny, hiking the Navajo Knobs Trail in Utah’s Capitol Reef National Park.

Hiking Capitol Reef’s Navajo Knobs Trail

Although it dwells in the shadow of the other four of Utah’s Big 5 national parks—Zion, Bryce Canyon, Arches, and Canyonlands—I’ve long seen Capitol Reef as chronically under-appreciated. And that was before I hiked the Navajo Knobs Trail, which I now consider one of the most beautiful dayhikes in the entire National Park System.

A hiker on the Navajo Knobs Trail in Capitol Reef National Park, in southern Utah.
My wife, Penny, hiking the Navajo Knobs Trail in Utah’s Capitol Reef National Park.

A moderate, out-and-back hike (9.4 miles with 1,620 feet of up and down if you do it all, but the scenery is spectacular however far you go), it shares a trailhead with the short, very popular hike to Hickman Natural Bridge, but soon splits from it—and sees very light hiker traffic beyond that junction. The trail passes an overlook of Hickman Bridge, winds upward to a stunning viewpoint from the canyon rim 1,000 feet above the green Fremont River Valley, and then meanders along the rim, with almost constant views of the cliffs and rumpled topography of the Waterpocket Fold, giant formations like Pectols Pyramid, The Castle, and Fern’s Nipple, and the Henry Mountains in the distance.

It culminates with a fun bit of easy scrambling to the tiny summit of one of the pinnacles named the Navajo Knobs, worth the effort for the prospect it offers of the varied and fascinating geology and topography of Capitol Reef National Park.

See my story “The Best Hikes in Capitol Reef National Park.”

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Dawn at Spangle Lake, Sawtooth Mountains, Idaho.
Dawn at Spangle Lake, Sawtooth Mountains, Idaho.

Two Days in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains

The Sawtooths are another place where it’s difficult to pick just one or even a few standout days because there are so many—especially given how many days I’ve spent in those mountains that have been my home range for nearly three decades. But I feel comfortable spotlighting two (with the caveat that I could have chosen so many more).

On a July day some years back, my wife, Penny, and I started hiking in a cool, morning fog that hung thickly over the Sawtooth Valley and, four-and-a-half hours later—after almost seven miles and climbing 4,200 vertical feet uphill, after passing some beautiful alpine lakes and tarns, and culminating with a bit of airy scrambling, we stood on the small stone block that’s the 10,751-foot summit of Thompson Peak, the highest in Idaho’s Sawtooths. Our reward (besides virtually every moment of the hike itself): a 360-degree panorama of the entire Sawtooth Range and the White Cloud Mountains across the valley.

A hiker on her way up Thompson Peak, the highest in Idaho's Sawtooth Mountains.
My wife, Penny, hiking Thompson Peak (the summit in upper right of photo), the highest in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains.

And in August 2025, Penny and I, joined by two friends, backpacked a four-day route deep into the Sawtooths. On our third day, we hiked past several lovely and lonely wilderness lakes (including the lakes we camped by the previous night and that night), bagged two summits, and crossed three passes. It feels both hard to imagine a better day and yet such a common experience in the Sawtooths.

Watch for my upcoming story about that August 2025 trip. Meanwhile, see my story “The Roof of Idaho’s Sawtooths: Hiking Thompson Peak,” my e-book “The Best Backpacking Trip in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains,” and all stories about backpacking in the Sawtooths Mountains at The Big Outside.

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A backpacker above Granite Creek on the Wonderland Trail, Mount Rainier National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking the Wonderland Trail in Mount Rainier National Park. Click photo for my e-book to backpacking the Wonderland Trail (and the best sections of it).

Backpacking the Wonderland Trail

No multi-day hike in the contiguous United States compares with the Wonderland Trail around Mount Rainier—because there’s no mountain in the Lower 48 like glacier-clad, 14,410-foot Mount Rainier. The sight of “The Mountain” repeatedly filling the horizon at a seemingly unbelievable scale is thrilling every time. But this trail also features some of the most beautiful wildflower meadows you will ever see, countless waterfalls and cascades, crystalline creeks and raging rivers gray with “glacial flour,” and likely sightings of mountain goats, marmots, deer, and possibly black bears.

A backpacker on the Wonderland Trail in Mount Rainier National Park.
Todd Arndt on the Wonderland Trail west of Sunrise in Mount Rainier National Park.

On the second day of a 77-mile hike on what I consider the WT’s best sections (a route described as one of the alternate itineraries in my Wonderland Trail e-book), two friends and I walked from the glorious meadows of Summerland on Rainier’s east side to more meadows west of Sunrise and eventually our campsite at Granite Creek, drinking in some of the best vistas along a path rich with amazing scenery.

See my stories “5 Reasons You Must Backpack Mount Rainier’s Wonderland Trail” and “An American Gem: Backpacking Mount Rainier’s Wonderland Trail.”

Want to hike the Wonderland Trail? Get my expert e-book
The Complete Guide to Backpacking the Wonderland Trail in Mount Rainier National Park.”

A hiker at the rim of Red Crater in New Zealand's Tongariro National Park.
A hiker at the rim of Red Crater in New Zealand’s Tongariro National Park.

Hiking New Zealand’s Incomparable Tongariro Alpine Crossing

I could create a separate list just of the most spectacular days I’ve spent in New Zealand. It would include day two on the Kepler Track, at least one day on the Dusky Track, and sea kayaking in Milford Sound and Doubtful Sound, all in Fiordland National Park, as well as days on the Cascade Saddle Route and the Whanganui River.

The largest of the three Emerald Lakes along the Tongariro Alpine Crossing, North Island, New Zealand.
The largest of the three Emerald Lakes along the Tongariro Alpine Crossing, North Island, New Zealand. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan any trip you read about at this blog.

And in late fall 2024, I returned to New Zealand for my fourth trip, this one with my family, and we trekked the classic and popular Milford and Routeburn tracks—and the Tongariro Alpine Crossing. A 12-mile/19.4km traverse of Tongariro National Park in the central North Island, the Tongariro Alpine Crossing deserves ranking among the world’s great trails for its almost constant views of active, rugged volcanoes, massive craters, and lakes that all but glow with color. That’s why it’s on this list of mine.

See my stories “Hiking New Zealand’s Epic Tongariro Alpine Crossing” and “Super Volcanoes: Hiking the Steaming Peaks of New Zealand’s Tongariro National Park,” and all stories about adventures in New Zealand at The Big Outside.

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A hiker in the Cirque of the Towers in the Wind River Range.
Todd Arndt hiking through the Cirque of the Towers in the Wind River Range.

Five Days Exploring the Wind River Range

Few places foil my attempts to pick favorite days of hiking more doggedly than the Winds—because few days walking through those mountains are mediocre. But I can spotlight a handful that feel extra special.

A backpacker hiking to Island Lake and Titcomb Basin in Wyoming's Wind River Range.
Todd Arndt backpacking to Island Lake and Titcomb Basin in the Wind River Range.

A one-day, 27-mile, east-west traverse I made of the southern Wind River Range with friends felt like a stroll through mountain paradise. We spent much of our hike above 11,000 feet, drinking up vistas of peaks rising above 12,000 feet on the Continental Divide. We scrambled up 12,250-foot Mount Chauvenet, crossed the Lizard Head Plateau gaping at thick glaciers, and then put an exclamation point on our adventure by walking across the Cirque of the Towers, a horseshoe of sheer-walled granite peaks scratching at the clouds.

On the first day of a 39-mile backpacking trip, two friends and I hiked from the Elkhart Park trailhead, past Island Lake and several others, to camp in Titcomb Basin—an alpine valley at over 10,500 feet, where peaks on the Divide soar more than 3,000 feet above lakes rippling in the wind.

Backpackers hiking past a tarn off the Highline Trail (CDT) in Wyoming's Wind River Range.
Chip Roser and Penny Beach backpacking past a tarn off the Highline Trail (CDT) in Wyoming’s Wind River Range.

Three companions and I backpacked one of the most audacious and magnificent wilderness adventures in the country: traversing the range south to north on the 96-mile Wind River High Route. While most of that week arguably belongs on this list, our fourth day began with crossing Sentry Peak Pass and passing a tiny tarn reflecting a row of incisor mountains in the upper valley of Middle Fork Lake (photo near the top of this story), moved on to a second 11,000-foot pass and eventually reached 12,000 feet on the Divide at Europe Peak.

A backpacker descending from Texas Pass into the Cirque of the Towers in the Wind River Range, Wyoming.
Chip Roser descending from Texas Pass into the Cirque of the Towers in the Wind River Range, Wyoming. Click photo to get my help planning your next trip.

Backpacking a 43-mile loop, my wife, a friend, and I started our second day from one of the best backcountry campsites I’ve ever had (photo above of reflection in a tarn), walked a stunning stretch of the Highline/Continental Divide Trail past two of the prettiest backcountry lakes I’ve hiked past and more lakes that came close, crossed three high passes, and finally, camped by a lake that reflected the alpenglow on the peaks.

Most recently, on a four-day hike in August 2023, a friend and I crossed three passes on our third day, the middle one, Texas Pass, depositing us in the Cirque of the Towers via a back door of sorts that may have sealed my impression that we were on the best multi-day hike in the Winds. Watch for my upcoming story about that trip.

See all stories about backpacking in the Winds at the Big Outside, including “The 10 Best Backpacking Trips in the Wind River Range,” “The Best Backpacking Trip in the Wind River Range? Yup,” “Backpacking Through a Lonely Corner of the Wind River Range,” “Best of the Wind River Range: Backpacking to Titcomb Basin,” “Adventure and Adversity on the Wind River High Route,” and “A Walk in the Winds: Dayhiking 27 Miles Across the Wind River Range.”

I’ve helped many readers plan a great backpacking trip in the Winds that was ideal for them. See my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you, too.

Our 27-mile Winds dayhike is one of “America’s Best Hard Dayhikes.”

Big Spring in The Narrows, Zion National Park.
Big Spring in The Narrows, Zion National Park.

Backpacking The Narrows, Zion National Park

Tough call deciding whether the first or second day backpacking Zion’s Narrows deserves a spot on this list. But take this classic, two-day backpacking trip and you’ll get to decide for yourself. Walking down the mostly shallow North Fork of the Virgin River between close sandstone walls that rise up to a thousand feet overhead, with trees and lush hanging gardens contrasted against rock painted in a rainbow of colors, Zion’s Narrows keeps getting more spectacular with every step.

Read my story “Luck of the Draw, Part 2: Backpacking Zion’s Narrows.”

Click here now to get my e-book to Backpacking Zion’s Narrows.

A trekker overlooking the Grey Glacier on the "W" circuit in Torres del Paine National Park, in Chilean Patagonia.
Jeff Wilhelm overlooking the Grey Glacier on the “W” circuit in Torres del Paine National Park, in Chilean Patagonia.

Hiking Above the Gray Glacier, Torres del Paine National Park, Chile

A rumble of thunder ripped through the air, audible over the persistent wind—but it wasn’t thunder. A few hundred feet below our rocky overlook in Chile’s Torres del Paine National Park, a slowly widening ring of small bergs floated in the lake, shrapnel from a massive chunk of ice that had just calved off the snout of the Grey Glacier. We were ascending a trail over a mountainside scoured to bedrock by ancient ice, scaling hundred-foot-tall steel ladders anchored to the earthen walls of gorges, while looking out over a river of ice two miles across and 17 miles long. Part of the spectacular “W” trek in this park in Chile’s Patagonia region, it was a 19-mile day that ended when we walked up to the Paine Grande Lodge after dark, buzzing with excitement.

See my story “Patagonian Classic: Trekking Torres del Paine,” and all stories about hiking in Patagonia at The Big Outside.

A family of hikers at the crater rim of Mount St. Helens, with Mount Adams in the background.
Three generations of my family at the crater rim of Mount St. Helens, with Mount Adams in the background.

Hiking Mount St. Helens

The catastrophic eruption that decapitated Washington’s Mount St. Helens on May 18, 1980, removing almost 1,300 vertical feet of mountaintop, ironically created one of America’s most strikingly beautiful, fascinating, and coveted dayhikes. On a climb up the mountain’s standard Monitor Ridge route—10 miles and 4,500 vertical feet up and down, most of it over a rugged and stark moonscape of loose rocks, pumice, and ash—you’ll soak up views of several Cascade Range volcanoes, and eventually stand atop the rim’s crumbling cliffs, gazing out over a vast hole 2,000 feet deep and nearly two miles across.

See my story “Three Generations, One Big Volcano: Pushing Limits on Mount St. Helens.”

Got an all-time favorite campsite? I have a few great ones.
See “Tent Flap With a View: 25 Favorite Backcountry Campsites.”

A backpacker hiking the Dawson Pass Trail in Glacier National Park.
Pam Solon backpacking the Dawson Pass Trail in Glacier National Park.

Three Days on the Continental Divide Trail in Glacier

On a couple of long, north-south traverses of Glacier in September 2018 and again in September 2023, mostly following two variations of the Continental Divide Trail from the Belly River Trailhead to Two Medicine, friends and I saw bighorn sheep, mountain goats, black bears, moose, and a grizzly bear, and heard elk bugling almost every morning and evening—and we enjoyed mountain views unlike anywhere else in America.

As difficult as it is to pick out which days on those hikes stood out, I can point to three in particular: hiking the Ptarmigan Tunnel Trail from the Belly River Valley to Many Glacier; hiking below the cliffs of the Garden Wall to cross Piegan Pass; and following the high, alpine Dawson Pass Trail from Pitamakan Pass to Dawson Pass—jaw-dropping, all of them.

Glacier does that to me every time I go there.

See my stories about those two trips, “Wildness All Around You: Backpacking the CDT Through Glacier” and “Déjà Vu All Over Again: Backpacking in Glacier National Park,” “10 Backpacking Trips for Solitude in Glacier National Park,” and all stories about backpacking in Glacier at The Big Outside.

Save yourself a lot of time. Get my expert e-book to backpacking the CDT through Glacier.

Toleak Point, Olympic coast, Olympic National Park.

Backpacking Mosquito Creek to Toleak Point, Southern Olympic Coast

You won’t find much on the longest strip of wilderness coastline in the contiguous United States, the shore of Washington’s Olympic National Park—just seals, sea lions, sea otters, bald eagles, many species of seabirds and whales, and trees 10 to 15 feet in diameter and growing over 200 feet tall. On the middle day of a three-day, 17.5-mile backpacking trip, hiking from Mosquito Creek to Toleak Point, my family explored tide pools and boulders coated with mussels, sea stars, and sea anemones, looked out on scores of stone pinnacles rising out of the ocean, and camped on a wilderness beach. I’m not sure who had more fun, the kids or the adults.

See my story “The Wildest Shore: Backpacking the Southern Olympic Coast,” and all stories about Olympic National Park at The Big Outside.

Score a popular permit using my
10 Tips For Getting a Hard-to-Get National Park Backcountry Permit.”

Two young girls backpacking Paria Canyon in southern Utah and northern Arizona.
My daughter, Alex, and friend Sofi backpacking Paria Canyon in southern Utah and northern Arizona.
A backpacker hiking down southern Utah's Buckskin Gulch.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking southern Utah’s Buckskin Gulch.

Two Days Backpacking Paria Canyon and Buckskin Gulch

Backpacking Buckskin Gulch and Paria Canyon yet again in April 2025, I was reminded just how uniquely spectacular they both are. With walls that rise to perhaps 200 feet tall and close in so tightly at times that an adult wearing a backpack can barely squeeze through, Buckskin is widely regarded as the longest slot canyon in America.

And Paria Canyon, hiked by itself or in combination with Buckskin, has long been widely considered one of the best backpacking trips in the Southwest—and I would argue one of the top three or five, for its own deep narrows section stretching for miles.

Walking through these canyons always reveals that the greatest magic of narrow canyons is how the diffused light paints the orange and red walls in too many shades of those colors to quantify, as well as shades of brown and a deep black that looks like an oil spill—creating stark contrasts that delight and mystify the human eye and brain. Buckskin and Paria each deserve a day on this list.

See my stories “Not a Dull Moment: Backpacking Buckskin Gulch and Paria Canyon” and “The Quicksand Chronicles: Backpacking Paria Canyon,” and all stories about hiking and backpacking in southern Utah at The Big Outside.

Explore the best of the Southwest on “The 15 Best Hikes in Utah’s National Parks” and
The 12 Best Backpacking Trips in the Southwest.”

A young girl at Precipice Lake in Sequoia National Park.
My daughter, Alex, at Precipice Lake in Sequoia National Park.

Backpacking the High Sierra Trail, Sequoia National Park

We weren’t far into a nearly 40-mile family backpacking trip in Sequoia before I realized it promised to be one of the most photogenic places I’ve ever hiked. Part of one of the biggest chunks of contiguous wilderness in the Lower 48, it’s home to many of the highest mountains outside Alaska, lonely backcountry groves of giant sequoias, and crystal-clear alpine lakes.

On our third day, hiking the High Sierra Trail from Bearpaw Meadow toward 10,700-foot Kaweah Gap, we traversed a cliff face hundreds of feet above the deep Middle Fork Kaweah River. We stopped for lunch and a swim at the Hamilton Lakes, which are almost completely enclosed by towering cliffs and pinnacles. By late afternoon, we found campsites at Precipice Lake at 10,400 feet, its glassy, green and blue waters reflecting white and golden cliffs (one of my 25 all-time favorite backcountry campsites).

See my story “Heavy Lifting: Backpacking Sequoia National Park.”


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A backpacker on the Royal Arch Loop in the Grand Canyon.
Kris Wagner backpacking the Royal Arch Loop in the Grand Canyon.

Four More Days in the Grand Canyon

Deer Creek Falls on the Grand Canyon's Thunder River-Deer Creek Loop.
Deer Creek Falls on the Grand Canyon’s Thunder River-Deer Creek Loop.

If the Grand Canyon looms large in this story—and in others at The Big Outside, like “The 12 Best Backpacking Trips in the Southwest”—that’s because it looms even larger in my perspective and that of probably every backpacker who ventures into it. In fact, besides hiking rim to rim to rim (described above), I can think of at least a few more days of backpacking in the Big Ditch that rank among my most scenic ever.

Those would include the second day on the very rugged and infrequently hiked, 34.5-mile Royal Arch Loop, which featured just about everything that makes backpacking in the Grand Canyon unique: sweeping views, a sandy beach beside the Colorado River, an intimate side canyon with lush hanging gardens, a high solitude quotient—even some spicy scrambling and a fun rappel off a cliff—not to mention one of the best campsites in the entire canyon, below Royal Arch (one of my 25 all-time favorite backcountry campsites).

It would also include the day that two friends and I traversed most of the Escalante Route, one of the of the prettiest and most adventurous “trails” (if it can be called that) in the canyon, on a 74-mile hike from the South Kaibab Trailhead to Lipan Point. And I’d have to include day three on yet another rugged and remote GC hike, the 25-mile Thunder River-Deer Creek Loop, which features some of the canyon’s loveliest waterfalls, narrows, and desert oases.

Oh, and then there’s almost any day on the Gems Route, the most remote section of the Tonto Trail, from the South Bass Trailhead to the Boucher Trail.

See my stories “Not Quite Impassable: Backpacking the Grand Canyon’s Royal Arch Loop,” “The Best Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon,” “Backpacking the Grand Canyon’s Thunder River-Deer Creek Loop,” “Let’s Talk Water: Backpacking the Grand Canyon’s Gems,” and “10 Epic Grand Canyon Backpacking Trips You Must Do.”

Click here now to get 20% off my e-books
to the best first backpacking trips in Yosemite and the Grand Canyon.

 

A backpacker on the Rockwall Trail, Kootenay National Park, Canada.
My wife, Penny, backpacking the Rockwall Trail in Kootenay National Park, Canada.

Backpacking the Rockwall Trail, Kootenay National Park, Canadian Rockies

My family’s second day on the 34-mile (54k) Rockwall Trail in Kootenay National Park was long and hard—12 miles over two 7,000-foot passes—but we had the most effective painkiller: views that even impressed our 14- and 12-year-old kids. One of Canada’s most popular and stunningly scenic hikes—and really deserving a spot on the list of the world’s finest treks—it follows the base of an almost unbroken limestone cliff up to 3,000 feet (900m) tall. We started that day below 1,154-foot (352m) Helmet Falls, one of the tallest in the Canadian Rockies, and hiked to Numa Creek, crossing meadows carpeted in wildflowers below hanging glaciers, and sighting four mountain goats at Tumbling Pass.

See my story about backpacking the Rockwall Trail in Kootenay National Park.

Get the right gear for your trips. See “The 10 Best Backpacking Packs
and “The 10 Best Backpacking Tents.”

 

A hiker near the summit of Galdhøpiggen (2469m), the highest peak in Norway.
My wife, Penny, near the summit of Galdhøpiggen (2469m), the highest peak in Norway.

Climbing Norway’s Highest Peak

Under a brilliantly blue morning sky in the highest mountains in northern Europe, my wife, Penny, our friend, Jeff Wilhelm, and I started a 5,000-foot climb of the highest peak in Norway, 8,100-foot Galdhøpiggen. It was the final day of a 60-mile trek in Jotunheimen National Park—another trip which every day could legitimately be the one chosen for this story—and we could have lounged in our last hut, but were glad we didn’t.

Ascending a treeless mountainside, we gained increasingly longer views of a rugged, Arctic-looking landscape vibrantly colorful with shrubs, mosses, and wildflowers, where cliffs and peaks look like they were chopped from the earth with an axe. At the chilly, windblown summit, we stood above a sea of snowy mountains and glaciers. And, of course, it being Europe, there was a hut at the summit where we could buy hot cocoas.

See my story “Walking Among Giants: A Three-Generation Hut Trek in Norway’s Jotunheimen National Park” and all stories about international trips at The Big Outside.

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Where to Backpack First Time in Yosemite https://thebigoutsideblog.com/ask-me-where-to-backpack-first-time-in-yosemite/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/ask-me-where-to-backpack-first-time-in-yosemite/#comments Thu, 15 Jan 2026 10:00:18 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=10632 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Ready for your first backpacking trip in one of America’s greatest national parks for backpackers? Having backpacked several times all over Yosemite, my advice for a first-time backpacker who wants to hit highlights like Yosemite Valley, the Mist Trail, and Half Dome is nearly identical to the itinerary I followed on my first trip more than three decades ago—but modified because now I know better.

This magnificent, beginner-friendly, four- to five-day, 37-mile loop from Yosemite Valley through the core of the park includes following the Mist Trail past 317-foot Vernal Fall and 594-foot Nevada Fall, ascending the cable route up Half Dome, reaching the equally spectacular (but much less busy) summit of Clouds Rest, walking a very pretty section of the world-famous John Muir Trail, and overlooking the jagged Cathedral Range from a campsite on the edge of alpine meadows at Sunrise.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A backpacker hiking over Clouds Rest in Yosemite National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking over Clouds Rest in Yosemite National Park. Click the photo for my e-book “The Best First Backpacking Trip in Yosemite.”

Happy Isles in Yosemite Valley is probably the most popular trailhead in the park—it also happens to be the northern terminus of the John Muir Trail—and the park issues backcountry permits based on a daily quota of people starting from each trailhead, so it’s hard to get a permit to start at Happy Isles. But if you get it, hike up the Mist Trail to Little Yosemite Valley (also hugely popular) to camp your first night.

Get an early start that first day so you can get ahead of the Mist Trail crowds and hike Half Dome (lead photo at top of story is from the top of Half Dome) without your gear that first afternoon; by then, most hikers are coming down, you’ll share the summit with fewer people (but make sure no afternoon thunderstorms are threatening). Or even better, hike Half Dome really early on day two, ahead of just about everyone—I’ve done that, it’s when you’ll share Half Dome with the fewest people.

Click here now for my detailed, expert e-book “The Best First Backpacking Trip in Yosemite.”

A view from the John Muir Trail of Half Dome, Liberty Cap, and Nevada Fall in Yosemite National Park.
A view from the John Muir Trail of Half Dome, Liberty Cap, and Nevada Fall in Yosemite. Click photo to get my expert custom trip planning for your Yosemite backpacking adventure or any trip you read about at this blog.

Day two, head north on the John Muir Trail to camp at Sunrise. Day three, from Sunrise, hike over Clouds Rest, one of the best summits in the park, and descend to camp again in Little Yosemite Valley.

Last day, hike down the John Muir Trail back to Happy Isles, passing a classic view of Nevada Fall, Liberty Cap, and the backside of Half Dome.

My popular, expert e-book “The Best First Backpacking Trip in Yosemite” describes that route it in far greater detail, including suggested daily itineraries for hiking it in four or five days, plus alternate itineraries for backpacking trips in that spectacular core of Yosemite, between Yosemite Valley and Tuolumne Meadows. It shares my insights on getting a coveted permit in Yosemite and my experience of multiple trips in this area of the park going back more than three decades, including the 10 years I spent as Northwest Editor of Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog.

I’ve helped many readers plan an unforgettable backpacking trip in Yosemite.
Want my help with yours? Click here now.

A backpacker hiking Indian Ridge, overlooking Half Dome in Yosemite National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking Indian Ridge, overlooking Half Dome in Yosemite. Click photo to read about “Yosemite’s Best-Kept Secret Backpacking Trip.”

How to Get a Yosemite Wilderness Permit

In Yosemite, wilderness permit reservations are issued based on trailhead quotas, with special rules for backpacking the John Muir Trail. Sixty percent of permit reservations are available by lottery at recreation.gov/permits/445859 beginning at 12:01 a.m. Pacific Time on the Sunday up to 24 weeks (168 days) in advance of the date you want to start hiking, with the lottery for each specific window of dates closing at 11:59 p.m. the next Saturday. You will be notified of whether you get a permit reservation within two business days after the lottery closes.

The remaining 40 percent of permits are made available at recreation.gov/permits/445859 at 7 a.m. Pacific Time up to seven days in advance of a trip start date.

Check out “The 10 Best Backpacking Trips in Yosemite.”

Dying to backpack in Yosemite? See my e-books to three amazing multi-day hikes there.

Hiking the John Muir Trail below Cathedral Peak, Yosemite.
Hiking the John Muir Trail below Cathedral Peak, Yosemite.

Permits are valid for continuous wilderness travel from the park into adjacent wilderness areas; similarly, wilderness permits issued by other agencies for beginning a trip in another national park or forest in the High Sierra—including Sequoia-Kings Canyon national parks and the Inyo National Forest—is valid for continuous wilderness travel into Yosemite National Park.

See “How to Get a Yosemite or High Sierra Wilderness Permit” and my “10 Tips For Getting a Hard-to-Get National Park Backcountry Permit.”

If you can’t get a permit to start at Happy Isles, you can do almost the same route starting at Glacier Point, following the Panorama Trail to Nevada Fall.

See all of my stories about backpacking in Yosemite, including  “Yosemite’s Best-Kept Secret Backpacking Trip,” “Best of Yosemite: Backpacking South of Tuolumne Meadows,” and “Best of Yosemite: Backpacking Remote Northern Yosemite,” about gorgeous multi-day hikes in the park’s most remote areas—trips to consider when you’re ready for a bigger adventure in Yosemite. (Most stories about trips at The Big Outside require a paid subscription to read in full.)

My e-books to those two hikes south of Tuolumne and north of Tuolumne tell you everything you need to know to plan and successfully pull off either trip.

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5 Expert Tips For Buying the Right Backpacking Pack https://thebigoutsideblog.com/5-tips-for-finding-the-right-backpack/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/5-tips-for-finding-the-right-backpack/#comments Tue, 13 Jan 2026 10:00:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=11824 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

If you’re super fit and strong, hike with a pack of any weight 50 or more days a year, and have never known any sort of injury or ache in your body, then don’t bother reading this article. But for everyone else, knowing how to find the right pack for backpacking and other outdoor activities—and for your body—will make a world of difference in your enjoyment when carrying that pack for hours a day on a trail or up and down a mountain. This article will lead you through five steps to accomplish exactly that—helping to ensure that you spend your gear money smartly.

These tips reflect what I’ve learned from field testing all kinds of packs for backpacking, dayhiking, climbing, trail running, and backcountry skiing over more than a quarter-century of testing and reviewing gear—formerly as the lead gear reviewer for Backpacker magazine for about 10 years and for even longer running this blog.

Follow these tips in chronological order and you will find the pack that’s right for you.

Please share any tips of your own or your questions in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A backpacker hiking over Clouds Rest in Yosemite National Park.
Mark Fenton backpacking over Clouds Rest in Yosemite National Park. Click photo for my e-book “The Best First Backpacking Trip in Yosemite.”

#1 Decide What It’s For

It’s tempting, especially when you’re on a budget, to want to buy one pack that will serve every possible need for which you can imagine using a pack. While that approach is understandable, unfortunately, setting such broad expectations takes you in exactly the wrong direction in this important first step toward finding the right pack.

Don’t sweat the fact that your diversity of interests demands a larger quiver of packs than you can afford; in time, when you can, you will get another pack. (We all do.) Your goal here is to focus down and narrow choices.

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A backpacker descending from Texas Pass into the Cirque of the Towers in the Wind River Range, Wyoming.
Chip Roser descending from Texas Pass into the Cirque of the Towers in the Wind River Range, Wyoming. Click photo to get my help planning your next trip.

The profusion of pack choices is largely the result of specificity in pack design—companies pursuing customers by making packs intended to be perfect for one purpose or another. Decide the one primary activity for which you’re buying this pack. Backpacking? Dayhiking? Climbing? Backcountry snow sports?

Sure, you can find packs that are more generalist and all-purpose—for example, tough enough for climbing, but with adequate organization and capacity for backpacking, or big enough for weekend backpacking and not too big or heavy for dayhiking, and that may serve you just fine. But if you want a pack that’s ideal for, say, backpacking, then look for a pack primarily designed for backpacking.

See “The 10 Best Backpacking Packs” and the best ultralight backpacks.

#2 Decide on Capacity and Weight

Backpackers hiking the Continental Divide Trail in Glacier National Park.
Backpackers hiking the Piegan Pass Trail in Glacier National Park. Click photo for my expert e-books to classic backpacking trips in Glacier and other parks.

Are you a lightweight or ultralight backpacker, or carrying most of the gear and food for your young kids, or somewhere into between? Are you a weekend backpacker, or planning to take weeklong trips as well, or planning a long thru-hike? Do you dayhike or backpack only in dry, mild climates in summer, or go out in colder and wetter climates, in shoulder seasons (spring and fall), or even in winter, too?

Capacity and maximum weight you’ll carry are two distinct but overlapping considerations. A mid-size pack, for instance, may still be lightweight and intended to carry only a maximum load of 30 or 35 pounds.

Tips:

•    Consider the total weight and the bulk of the gear and food you’ll typically carry, so that your pack has enough space for your needs, can comfortably handle the weight, and isn’t more pack than you really need.
•    Don’t buy the lightest pack if you intend to carry more weight than it’s designed for.
•    If you’re unsure between two backpack capacities—say, 50L or 60L—ask yourself whether you’re ready to size down some bulky gear (like a sleeping bag or tent), or go with the larger pack.

I usually roll my eyes when I see a reviewer suggest that a lightweight or even mid-size pack can carry 50 or 60 pounds. First of all, many people—probably most backpackers—simply cannot carry that much weight with any pack (and don’t want or need to). Don’t trust any suggestion that a minimal frame and suspension system can carry a large weight, or you’ll set yourself up for some painful disappointment.

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A backpacker on the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park.
David Gordon backpacking the Teton Crest Trail. Click photo to read all stories about backpacking the Teton Crest Trail at The Big Outside.

How I use packs based on volume and approximate pack weight (there’s overlap between these categories):

•    Packs 65L/3,965 c.i. or larger, weighing four to five pounds or more (empty)—family or gear-intensive backpacking or climbing trips carrying loads of 40-50 pounds or more.
•    Packs 50-65L/3,356-3,967 c.i., weighing three to four pounds—longer trips carrying 30-45 pounds, including several days’ food, when I’m carrying some weight for a partner, or extra clothing and a larger sleeping bag for colder temperatures.
•    Packs approximately 50L/3,051 c.i. or smaller, weighing under three pounds—weekend to multi-day, lightweight/ultralight backpacking with 30-35 pounds or less and lightweight or ultralight, compact gear.
•    Packs 30-45L/1,831-2,441 c.i., weighing 2.5 to four pounds—ultralight weekend trips and gear-intensive activities like climbing and backcountry skiing day trips or hut/yurt trips carrying 30 or more pounds.
•    Packs 20-30L/1,220-1,831 c.i. weighing 1.5 to 2.5 pounds—dayhikes carrying 15 to 25 pounds.
•    Packs under 20L/1,220 c.i. weighing under 1.5 pounds—longer trail runs and dayhikes carrying under 15 pounds.

Want to hike the Teton Crest Trail, John Muir Trail, or another trip?
Click here for expert advice you won’t get elsewhere.

#3 Get the Fit Right

Backpackers in Paria Canyon, Utah-Arizona.
My daughter, Alex, and friend Sofi Serio, ackpacking in Paria Canyon, Utah-Arizona. Click photo to see “The 12 Best Backpacking Trips in the Southwest.”

For starters, measure your torso correctly in order to know your pack size. While many hydration packs and daypacks come in only one size, most mid-size and large backpacks come in two or three sizes, each fitting a specific range of torso lengths, or they’re adjustable. Some pack makers offer customization of fit such as different sizes in hipbelts.

How to measure torso length:

Stand straight and have someone use a soft tape measure (or a string which that person can hold against a stiff measuring tape afterward) to measure your spine. Find your iliac crest, which is the shelf-like top of your hipbones on your sides; place your hands there and your thumbs will point to the spot on your spine where your helper should place the end of the tape measure. Have that person run the tape measure along your spine to your C7 vertebrae, which is the knobby bone at the base of your neck when you tilt your head forward. That’s your torso length.

I’ve often found that if a pack model’s sizing is such that my torso length falls on the line between sizes, then either size could be a little small or a little big for me. If I really want that pack, the smaller size often fits me better. But you’ll probably find a more comfortable fit when your torso length falls closer to the middle of a pack’s fit range.

Planning your next big adventure? See “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips
and “The 25 Best National Park Dayhikes.”

A hiker near Skeleton Point, South Kaibab Trail, Grand Canyon.
David Ports on the Grand Canyon’s South Kaibab Trail during a rim-to-rim dayhike. Click photo to read about hiking or backpacking across the Grand Canyon.

See my reviews of “The 10 Best Backpacking Packs,” “The 10 Best Hiking Daypacks,” and the best ultralight backpacks, and my “Video: How to Load a Backpack” at The Big Outside.

Whether you’re a beginner or seasoned backpacker, you’ll learn new tricks for making all of your trips go better in my “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” A Practical Guide to Lightweight and Ultralight Backpacking,” and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.” With a paid subscription to The Big Outside, you can read all of those three stories for free; if you don’t have a subscription, you can download the e-book versions of “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” the lightweight and ultralight backpacking guide, and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”

NOTE: I tested gear for Backpacker magazine for 20 years. At The Big Outside, I review only what I consider the best outdoor gear and apparel. See The Big Outside’s Gear Reviews page for categorized menus of gear reviews and expert buying tips.

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Backpacking the John Muir and Ansel Adams Wildernesses https://thebigoutsideblog.com/photo-gallery-backpacking-the-john-muir-wilderness/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/photo-gallery-backpacking-the-john-muir-wilderness/#respond Mon, 12 Jan 2026 10:00:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=7874 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Yosemite and Sequoia-Kings Canyon national parks loom large on the radar screens of most backpackers. But savvy Sierra aficionados know that the two major wilderness areas that sprawl over nearly 900,000 acres along more than 100 miles of the High Sierra between those parks, the John Muir and Ansel Adams wildernesses, harbor just as rich a cache of soaring, jagged peaks and shimmering alpine lakes—not to mention sections of the John Muir Trail and Pacific Crest Trail that enable almost endless possibilities for multi-day hikes, short and long. And while competition is stiff for permits to backpack in the John Muir and Ansel Adams wildernesses, those permits are not nearly as hard to draw as permits for the most popular trips in Yosemite or Sequoia-Kings Canyon or to thru-hike the John Muir Trail.

Having backpacked many hundreds of miles throughout the High Sierra on numerous trips over more than three decades, including the 10 years I spent as Northwest Editor of Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog, I have seen much of the abundant gorgeous backcountry in those mountains—and concluded that, while Yosemite and Sequoia-Kings Canyon certainly do belong on every backpacker’s tick list, you should add the John Muir and Ansel Adams wildernesses as well.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


Backpackers hiking the John Muir Trail to Silver Pass in the John Muir Wilderness, High Sierra.
David Ports and Marco Garofalo backpacking the John Muir Trail to Silver Pass in the John Muir Wilderness, High Sierra.

On my most-recent hike of nine days and almost 130 miles through the Adams, Muir, and a corner of Kings Canyon National Park in August 2022 (the lead photo at the top of this story was taken on that trip), two companions and I walked some premier sections of the John Muir Trail, explored high, off-trail terrain, and hiked through and camped by alpine lakes below skyscraping granite peaks and spires.

That trip illustrated how the extensive trail network throughout the High Sierra’s national parks and forests enable myriad options for multi-day hikes of virtually any distance—and the Ansel Adams and John Muir wildernesses protect those lands in as pristine a condition as you will find in any of the national parks. If you don’t have the time or desire for, say, a full John Muir Trail thru-hike, countless options for JMT section hikes and other trips exist throughout these wilderness areas.

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A backpacker hiking the Italy Pass Trail through Granite Park in the John Muir Wilderness, High Sierra, California.
Jason Kauffman backpacking the Italy Pass Trail through Granite Park in the John Muir Wilderness of the High Sierra.

The photos in this story are from various trips in the Ansel Adams and John Muir wildernesses. Below the photo gallery, you’ll find links to many stories about High Sierra backpacking trips.

Please share your questions or comments about your own experiences in the High Sierra in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

And see my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you plan your next High Sierra backpacking adventure or any trip you read about at this blog.

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See all stories about backpacking in the High Sierra at The Big Outside, including “10 Great John Muir Trail Section Hikes,” “How to Get a Yosemite or High Sierra Wilderness Permit,” “High Sierra Ramble: 130 Miles On—and Off—the John Muir Trail,” and “In the Footsteps of John Muir: Finding Solitude in the High Sierra,” plus “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips.” Those stories about trips contain numerous photos and information on planning them. While roughly the first half of many stories about trips are free for anyone to read, reading them in full is an exclusive benefit for readers with a paid subscription to The Big Outside.

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Thru-Hiking the John Muir Trail: What You Need to Know https://thebigoutsideblog.com/thru-hiking-the-john-muir-trail-what-you-need-to-know/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/thru-hiking-the-john-muir-trail-what-you-need-to-know/#comments Sun, 11 Jan 2026 10:05:50 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=43333 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

For many serious backpackers, a thru-hike of the John Muir Trail looms as a sort of holy grail. But every JMT aspirant inevitably faces the question: How do you plan a 221-mile hike of “America’s Most Beautiful Trail?” Besides preparing physically for it, a JMT thru-hike poses myriad logistical and organizational challenges, from obtaining one of the country’s most sought-after wilderness permits to choosing an ideal time of year, the itinerary and number of days to take, gear, food resupplies, transportation, acclimating to elevations commonly between 9,000 and over 13,000 feet, and other details.

And, of course, you also want to know: Where are the best campsites along the JMT? What’s the best itinerary for backpacking the John Muir Trail?

This article offers expert tips regarding critical planning details and challenges when thru-hiking the John Muir Trail—unquestionably one of America’s 10 best backpacking trips. It draws on my JMT thru-hike and numerous trips in the High Sierra, as well as thousands of miles of backpacking all over the country over the past three decades, my 10 years as a field editor at Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A hiker on the John Muir Trail below Cathedral Peak in Yosemite National Park.
Heather Dorn hiking the John Muir Trail below Cathedral Peak in Yosemite National Park.

Two friends and I completed our JMT thru-hike in an admittedly insane seven days, hiking ultralight and averaging 31 miles per day. (The JMT spans 211 miles, but its southern end is atop Mount Whitney, where you still must hike over 10 miles downhill to finish the trip.) While the pre-trip prep proved time-consuming, it came together smoothly and we had a very successful—and quite memorable—trip.

Want to save a lot of time and ensure your JMT hike goes as well as possible? See my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you plan a JMT hike. At the bottom of that page you’ll find many comments from people who’ve received my custom trip planning, including a reader named Lauren who wrote: “Michael helped me plan my solo JMT thru-hike, and the process was beyond what I expected. He provided personal tips and perspectives from his own experiences as well as insight into what he’s seen others try and buy. He has amassed a wealth of detailed information about gear, training, trails, permits, regulations, transit, and all the details I knew would be a nightmare to suss out alone… It’s really like having a wilderness coach. Excited to plan another trip with him soon!”

Please share your questions or JMT tips in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

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A backpacker passing Wanda Lake on the John Muir Trail in Kings Canyon National Park.
Todd Arndt passing Wanda Lake on the John Muir Trail in Kings Canyon National Park. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan a JMT thru-hike.

Getting a Permit for Thru-Hiking the John Muir Trail

Obtaining a permit to backpack the entire trail represents one of the JMT’s greatest challenges—it’s one of the most sought-after backcountry permits in the country. JMT permits are in high demand for dates in July, August, and September. Check out the statistics on numbers of rolling lottery applications to start the JMT in Yosemite and their success rates at nps.gov/yose/planyourvisit/wpstats. (Spoiler alert: Nearly 70 percent of applications are unsuccessful during those peak months.)

The JMT crosses three national parks—Yosemite, Kings Canyon, and Sequoia—and two national forests, the Inyo and Sierra, as well as a pair of wilderness areas within those national forests, the Ansel Adams and John Muir. You must obtain a permit from the agency where you begin a JMT hike and that permit covers your entire trip.

Most thru-hikers try to begin in either Yosemite, the JMT’s northern terminus, or at Whitney Portal, which accesses the trail’s southern terminus, Mount Whitney.

Don’t have time for the entire JMT?
See “10 Great John Muir Trail Section Hikes.”

A backpacker hiking above Helen Lake on the John Muir Trail, Kings Canyon National Park, High Sierra.
Marco Garofalo hiking above Helen Lake on the John Muir Trail, Kings Canyon National Park. Click photo to read about this 130-mile JMT section hike.

To hike the JMT southbound (the direction I recommend; more on that below), apply for a permit from Yosemite National Park at recreation.gov up to 24 weeks in advance of the date you want to start hiking, entering a weekly rolling lottery for a permit to start within a specific window of dates.

There are just two trailheads in Yosemite where you are permitted to launch a JMT thru-hike: the JMT’s northern terminus, the Happy Isles Trailhead in Yosemite Valley, which appears on the Yosemite permit application as Happy Isles to Past LYV (Donohue Pass eligible); and Lyell Canyon (Donohue Pass eligible)—the latter offering perhaps better odds of securing a permit, although starting at Lyell Canyon means you miss the JMT’s section from Yosemite Valley to Tuolumne Meadows. (Note: LYV represents Little Yosemite Valley, the park’s most popular backcountry camp, where JMT thru-hikers are not permitted to spend a night). See nps.gov/yose/planyourvisit/jmt.htm.

Backpackers starting at Whitney Portal to hike northbound reserve a permit through a lottery system conducted between Feb. 1 and March 1 at recreation.gov.

See “How to Get a John Muir Trail Wilderness Permit.”

Given the long odds of getting a full JMT permit during the peak season, consider the alternative of planning a trip on a long section of the trail—for which a permit can be much easier to obtain. I can help you figure out that itinerary and permit plan; click here.

I’ve helped hundreds of readers plan a JMT hike and other trips you read about at my blog.
Want my help with yours? Click here for expert advice you won’t get anywhere else.

A backpacker hiking the John Muir Trail above Marie Lake in the John Muir Wilderness, High Sierra.
Marco Garofalo backpacking the John Muir Trail above Marie Lake in the John Muir Wilderness.

The Prime Season for Thru-Hiking the John Muir Trail

A John Muir Trail thru-hike can often be done from early summer through September. But the best time for an ultralight thru-hike is mid-or late August to late September, when the mosquitoes have abated significantly and rain is rare—allowing you to use a tarp instead of a tent—the high passes are snow-free, and mornings are cool. Keep in mind there’s a chance of an early-season snowstorm—or increasingly in recent years, wildfires—interrupting your plans, especially in late summer.

How Many Days on the JMT?

Traditionally, backpackers have taken three weeks to thru-hike the entire JMT, a pace of about 10 miles a day. Today, with lighter gear, good training, and smart planning, many cut the time to two weeks or less. For instance, following a 15-day itinerary for backpacking the entire John Muir Trail requires averaging 14.7 miles per day—which is entirely feasible for fit backpackers.

Begin each day early—a smart plan to take advantage of the coolest hours of the day, anyway—and average 2.5 mph while walking, and you can hike 15 miles in six hours. Assuming two hours of rest time over the course of the day, that’s eight hours on the trail each day—an 8-to-4 workday. Even at 2 mph with two hours of down time, you can cover 12 miles in eight hours. Arrive with your legs in good shape and you’ll grow accustomed to that pace quickly. Experiment with backpacking longer days and traveling light on shorter trips before your JMT thru-hike.

Hiking southbound, you begin on the northern sections of the JMT, which are at moderate elevations and offer more possible resupply points to let you hike with less food weight than the trail’s southern half. By the time you reach Muir Trail Ranch, a common resupply point roughly near the JMT’s halfway point, you’ll have developed your trail legs for longer days, allowing you to carry less food weight for the southern half of the JMT.

Except for the high passes, the JMT is not, step for step, as difficult as hiking in other parts of the country. Give serious thought to food supply and daily mileage, because leaving Muir Trail Ranch with 10 or 11 days of food will add about 20 pounds to your pack as you head for the JMT’s highest passes.

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The eastern Sallie Keyes Lake along the John Muir Trail in the John Muir Wilderness, High Sierra.
The eastern Sallie Keyes Lake along the John Muir Trail in the John Muir Wilderness, High Sierra.

Minimizing Pack Weight

Successful long-distance hikers live by a cardinal rule: Keep your base pack weight (including only gear and clothing weight, which remains constant, not food and water) low enough that you can hike at a strong pace and rack up decent miles every day. A base pack weight of 15 pounds or less is easy to accomplish without compromising comfort or safety; many thru-hikers get it significantly lower than that.

During the summer, given the generally dry weather in the High Sierra and nighttime lows that don’t often drop below 40° F, you can use lightweight to ultralight gear, including your pack, tent, bag, and footwear. No specialized gear is needed on this trip, other than a bear canister; see the type of bear canister that I like in this review.

See my article “A Practical Guide to Lightweight and Ultralight Backpacking” for tips on lowering your pack weight. (Reading it in full requires a paid subscription to The Big Outside. If you don’t have a subscription, you can purchase that one article by clicking here.)

And see all reviews of ultralight backpacking gear at The Big Outside.

Plan your next great backpacking trip in Yosemite, Grand Teton,
and other parks using my expert e-books.

A view from the John Muir Trail of Half Dome, Liberty Cap, and Nevada Fall in Yosemite National Park.
A view from the John Muir Trail of Half Dome, Liberty Cap, and Nevada Fall in Yosemite. Click photo for my e-book “The Best First Backpacking Trip in Yosemite.”

The Resupply Plan

Given the JMT’s remoteness, another of its major challenges is how few convenient opportunities to resupply food lie along it. They are, in order when hiking southbound:

  • Tuolumne Meadows in Yosemite is a bit more than 21 miles on the JMT from Happy Isles Trailhead, the northern terminus. The Tuolumne Meadows store has a decent selection of groceries. You can ship a resupply package to yourself General Delivery at the Tuolumne Meadows Post Office, Yosemite National Park 95389; include your planned arrival date in the address. Grab a meal at the Tuolumne Meadows Grill.
  • At Red’s Meadow (redsmeadow.com), a short hike off the JMT, resupply for the next 50 trail miles either by having someone meet you there, or for a fee, mailing or delivering a package in advance. Eat a big meal at the Mule House Café.
  • Although it’s a few miles farther off the JMT than Muir Trail Ranch, Vermillion Valley Resort (vvr.place) provides lodging, free tent camping, showers, laundry, and an opportunity to resupply a bit north of MTR.
  • Resupply a final time at Muir Trail Ranch (muirtrailranch.com/backpacker-resupply), about a mile off the JMT near the trail’s midpoint. Ship non-perishable food weeks in advance; a fee is charged.

Planning your next big adventure? See “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips
and “Tent Flap With a View: 25 Favorite Backcountry Campsites.”

A hiker at Trail Crest, at 13,650 feet, along the John Muir Trail on Mount Whitney.
Mark Fenton at Trail Crest, at 13,650 feet, along the John Muir Trail on Mount Whitney. Click photo to read about the ultimate, 10-day, ultralight JMT plan.

Acclimating to High Elevations

The John Muir Trail ranges in elevation from 4,035 feet at its northern terminus, the Happy Isles Trailhead in Yosemite Valley, to the 14,505-foot summit of Mount Whitney, its southern terminus. But much of the trail lies above 9,000 feet and it crosses six passes and a seventh named high point between 11,000 feet and over 13,000 feet (in order north to south): Donohue (11,056 feet), Muir (11,955 feet), Mather (12,100 feet), Pinchot (12,130 feet), Glen (11,978 feet), Forester (13,180 feet, highest pass on the JMT), and Trail Crest on Mount Whitney (13,650 feet). Two other passes approach 11,000 feet: Silver Pass (10,895 feet) and Selden Pass (10,800 feet).

The trail’s elevation profile represents yet another of its physical challenges and provides one of the best arguments for hiking it north to south: The highest elevations are in its southern half. When beginning at 4,000 feet in Yosemite Valley, you have time to gradually acclimate before reaching the first pass over 11,000 feet, crossing from Yosemite into the Ansel Adams Wilderness at Donohue Pass.

Alternatively, beginning at Whitney Portal, at about 8,370 feet, you’re already sucking air, starting with a heavy pack due to zero convenient resupply opportunities in the trail’s southern hundred miles, and will attempt to reach the JMT’s high point, Mount Whitney’s summit at 14,505 feet, on your second day. That’s a tough start.

Got any questions or suggestions regarding the JMT? Please share them below.

See all stories about backpacking the John Muir Trail at The Big Outside, including “Thru-Hiking the John Muir Trail: The Ultimate, 10-Day, Ultralight Plan,” “Thru-Hiking the John Muir Trail in 7 Days: Amazing Experience, or Certifiably Insane?” , which has more images, and “The Best Backpacking Gear for the John Muir Trail,” plus my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you plan a JMT hike.

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How to Get a John Muir Trail Wilderness Permit in 2026 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/how-to-get-a-john-muir-trail-wilderness-permit/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/how-to-get-a-john-muir-trail-wilderness-permit/#respond Sat, 10 Jan 2026 10:02:03 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=56589 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Sometimes it can seem like everyone who’s ever carried a backpack through mountains somewhere wants to thru-hike the John Muir Trail—especially when it comes time to reserve a JMT wilderness permit. And why not? “America’s Most Beautiful Trail” earns its nickname and ranks indisputably among “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips.” Consequently, few permits are harder to get; most people who enter one of the JMT rolling permit lotteries get rejected. This story explains the various ways to reserve a John Muir Trail wilderness permit—which you must do months ahead of your trip dates.

The tips below draw from my personal experience thru-hiking the JMT in an admittedly insane seven days as well as numerous trips on JMT sections (most recently in August 2022), in Yosemite, and throughout the High Sierra over more than three decades, including the 10 years I spent as Northwest Editor of Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A backpacker hiking past Marie Lake on the John Muir Trail, John Muir Wilderness, High Sierra.
Marco Garofalo backpacking past Marie Lake on the John Muir Trail, John Muir Wilderness, High Sierra.

See “Thru-Hiking the John Muir Trail: What You Need to Know” and all stories about backpacking the John Muir Trail and backpacking in Yosemite and the High Sierra at The Big Outside. Most of those stories require a paid subscription to The Big Outside to read in full, including my tips and information on planning each hike.

See also “How to Get a Yosemite or High Sierra Wilderness Permit” and my expert e-books to multi-day hikes in Yosemite and other parks, including “The Best First Backpacking Trip in Yosemite.”

I’ve helped many readers plan their own JMT thru-hike or section hike and backpacking trips throughout the High Sierra and elsewhere, answering all of their questions (and many they didn’t think to ask) and customizing an itinerary ideal for them. See my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you and read hundreds of comments from others who’ve received my custom trip planning.

Please share any thoughts or questions about the JMT in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

Don’t Have Time for the entire JMT or didn’t get a permit?
See “10 Great John Muir Trail Section Hikes.”

Sunrise reflection in a tarn above Helen Lake along the John Muir Trail, Kings Canyon N.P.
Sunrise reflection in a tarn above Helen Lake along the John Muir Trail, Kings Canyon N.P.

John Muir Trail Wilderness Permits

The 211-mile-long John Muir Trail crosses Yosemite and Sequoia-Kings Canyon national parks and a pair of wilderness areas, the Ansel Adams and John Muir. You must obtain a permit from the agency where you begin a JMT hike and that permit covers your entire trip.

A high percentage of JMT permit lottery entrants don’t get a permit simply because the number of people seeking one every year far exceeds available permits. Check out the statistics on numbers of permits awarded in Yosemite (including for JMT starts) and their success rates at nps.gov/yose/planyourvisit/wpstats.

Spoiler alert: About 70 percent of applicants seeking a starting date during the peak period of mid-July through mid-August fail to get a permit reservation. But the success rate rises steadily to over 50 percent by mid-September—an excellent time to backpack in the High Sierra.

JMT thru-hikers generally begin in either Yosemite, the trail’s northern terminus, or at Whitney Portal, the starting point to reach the trail’s southern terminus on the summit of Mount Whitney. Backcountry campsites are not designated or assigned along most of the JMT; with few exceptions (largely in Yosemite), you may camp where you like but use sites that have clearly been used previously.

As I write in my “10 Tips for Getting a Hard-to-Get National Park Backcountry Permit,” the single most-effective strategy for maximizing your chances of getting a permit for a popular trip during its peak season is to consider at least two starting trailheads and itineraries—which requires knowing generally how far you want to walk each day—and a wide range of starting dates.

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A backpacker on the John Muir Trail overlooking the Cathedral Range in Yosemite National Park.
Todd Arndt on the John Muir Trail overlooking the Cathedral Range in Yosemite National Park.

Starting the JMT in Yosemite

To hike the JMT southbound (the direction I recommend), reserve a permit from Yosemite National Park at recreation.gov/permits/445859 up to 24 weeks in advance of the date you want to start hiking, entering a rolling lottery for a permit within a specific window of dates. You will be notified of whether you get a permit reservation within two business days after the lottery closes and will have three days to accept the permit or lose the reservation.

For example, to start a trip between Aug. 9-15, 2026, enter the lottery between Feb. 15 and Feb. 21. You will be notified of the result on Feb. 23 and must accept it (if successful) by Feb. 26 or forfeit it, and remaining reservations become available at 9 a.m. Pacific Time on Feb. 27 at recreation.gov/permits/445859 on a first-come, first-served basis. The weekly lottery ends in early May.

Yosemite issues all wilderness permits based on trailheads quotas and imposes a daily quota of 45 backpackers exiting the park via Donohue Pass on the JMT.


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A hiker on Half Dome in Yosemite National Park.
Mark Fenton standing on Half Dome, high above Yosemite Valley. Click photo for my e-book “The Best First Backpacking Trip in Yosemite.”

One advantage of Yosemite’s rolling lottery is that, if you strike out in one lottery period, you will have plenty of time to apply again for the very next week.

The JMT’s northern terminus, the Happy Isles Trailhead in Yosemite Valley, is the starting point most often requested in the Yosemite lottery. There are just two trailheads in Yosemite where you are permitted to launch a JMT thru-hike or section hike—and specifically, to cross Donohue Pass, exiting Yosemite on the JMT—and those appear on the Yosemite permit application as Happy Isles to Past LYV (Donohue Pass eligible) and Lyell Canyon (Donohue Pass eligible)—the latter offering perhaps better odds of securing a permit. (Note: LYV represents Little Yosemite Valley, the park’s most popular backcountry camp, where JMT thru-hikers are not permitted to spend a night.)

See nps.gov/yose/planyourvisit/jmt.htm, which explains how to get a JMT permit for starting in Yosemite and how popular the JMT has become.

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Backpackers camped by Thousand Island Lake along the John Muir Trail in the Ansel Adams Wilderness, High Sierra.
Backpackers camped by Thousand Island Lake along the John Muir Trail in the Ansel Adams Wilderness, High Sierra.

Starting the JMT at Whitney Portal

To thru-hike the JMT northbound—or backpack a JMT section—starting at Whitney Portal between May 1 and Nov. 1, you must enter the Mount Whitney Zone permit lottery at recreation.gov/permits/233260 anytime between Feb. 1 and March 1; the form can be viewed but not filled out until Feb. 1.

Choose Mount Whitney Zone Overnight permit to create a permit good for multiple dates. Permit quotas are 100 people day use and 60 people overnight per day.

Lottery results are announced on March 15. The deadline to confirm a lottery reservation and pay the $15 per person fee is 9 p.m. Pacific time on April 21. On April 22, all unclaimed lottery permits are available for reservations at recreation.gov/permits/233260 starting at 7 a.m. Pacific Time.

Want to hike the John Muir Trail or another High Sierra trip?
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A backpacker at Evolution Lake on the John Muir Trail in Evolution Basin, Kings Canyon National Park.
Marco Garofalo at Evolution Lake on the John Muir Trail in Evolution Basin, Kings Canyon National Park.

Backpack a Section of the JMT

If you fail to get a permit for a JMT thru-hike, consider a long John Muir Trail section hike—a satisfying consolation prize and a permit that’s much easier to get, especially starting from a trailhead in the Inyo National Forest.

The Inyo sprawls over the High Sierra between Yosemite and Sequoia-Kings Canyon, including a long stretch of the JMT through the Ansel Adams and John Muir wildernesses. A permit from the Inyo allows you to continue on the JMT into Yosemite or Sequoia-Kings Canyon.

The Inyo National Forest accepts reservations for 60 percent of trailhead quotas at recreation.gov/permits/233262 starting at 7 a.m. Pacific Time exactly six months before your start date—for example, on Feb. 1 for a trip starting Aug. 1. To finish by descending Mount Whitney to Whitney Portal, you must select permit type “Overnight Exiting Mt. Whitney.”

Forty percent of Inyo trailhead quotas open for reservations at recreation.gov/permits/233262 beginning at 7 a.m. Pacific Time two weeks prior to a trip’s start date.

See “How to Get a Yosemite or High Sierra Wilderness Permit” and more information at fs.usda.gov/main/inyo/passes-permits/recreation.

Get the right gear for the High Sierra. See “The 10 Best Backpacking Packs
and “The 10 Best Backpacking Tents.”

A backpacker hiking the John Muir Trail to Glen Pass, Kings Canyon N.P.
Mark Fenton backpacking the JMT to Glen Pass, Kings Canyon N.P.

Keep Your Group Small

The High Sierra national parks and forests all issue permits based on trailhead quotas on the total number of people starting trips every day and those quotas vary between trailheads. It stands to reason that smaller parties of one to four backpackers will have a better chance of landing a permit than larger groups.

See “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips” and all stories with expert backpacking tips at The Big Outside.

Want my expert help custom planning your trip to ensure it’s as good as it can be? See my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you.

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Thru-Hiking the John Muir Trail: The Ultimate, 10-day, Ultralight Plan https://thebigoutsideblog.com/planning-to-thru-hike-the-john-muir-trail-do-it-right-on-this-10-day-ultralight-plan/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/planning-to-thru-hike-the-john-muir-trail-do-it-right-on-this-10-day-ultralight-plan/#comments Fri, 09 Jan 2026 10:05:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=7454 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Are you planning to thru-hike the John Muir Trail? “America’s Most Beautiful Trail” should be on every serious backpacker’s tick list. After hiking it in a blazing (and slightly crazy) seven days, I became convinced that—while that was quite hard—the traditional itinerary of spreading the roughly 221 miles (including more than 10 miles descending Mount Whitney that’s not part of the JMT) over about three weeks has a serious flaw: With limited food-resupply options, you’ll carry a monster pack that may not only make you sore and uncomfortable, it could cause injuries that cut short your trip.

As I write in my blog story “A Practical Guide to Lightweight and Ultralight Backpacking,” thousands of miles of backpacking over more than three decades—including the 10 years I spent as Northwest Editor of Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog—have taught me that the single best step I can take to make all trips more enjoyable is simple: lightening my pack weight.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


Backpackers at Evolution Lake in the Evolution Basin, John Muir Trail, Kings Canyon N.P.
David Ports and Marco Garofalo hiking the John Muir Trail past Evolution Lake in the Evolution Basin, Kings Canyon N.P.

In this article, I lay out a smart, complete, and proven ultralight strategy for thru-hiking the JMT in 10 to 11 days—and why you’d want to do it—plus, for anyone not able to average over 20 miles a day, a suggested two-week JMT thru-hike. While much of this story is free for anyone to read, reading the entire story, including specific tips that are based on my experience, is an exclusive benefit of a paid subscription to The Big Outside.

The John Muir Trail—definitely one of America’s 10 best backpacking trips—is ideal for going ultralight because of its generally dry summers, well-constructed footpath, and moderate grades. Backpackers who arrive with their legs in trail shape can knock off 20 to 22 miles a day—spending about 10 hours a day on the trail (including breaks) and averaging 2.5 mph, a reasonable pace for someone who’s fit and carrying a light pack.

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The eastern Sallie Keyes Lake on the John Muir Trail, John Muir Wilderness, High Sierra.
The eastern Sallie Keyes Lake on the John Muir Trail in the John Muir Wilderness, High Sierra.

See my stories “Thru-Hiking the John Muir Trail: What You Need to Know,” “How to Get a John Muir Trail Wilderness Permit,” “10 Great John Muir Trail Section Hikes,” “The Best Backpacking Gear for the John Muir Trail,” and “A Practical Guide to Lightweight and Ultralight Backpacking.” 

See also my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you plan your JMT thru-hike or section hike or any trip you read about at The Big Outside, plus my expert e-books to backpacking trips in Yosemite and other parks.

Please share your thoughts on my tips below, or your own tricks, in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

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A backpacker hiking the John Muir Trail above Helen Lake in Kings Canyon N.P., High Sierra.
Marco Garofalo backpacking the John Muir Trail above Helen Lake in Kings Canyon N.P. Click photo to read about my most recent, long JMT section hike.

Permit Get a permit for the entire JMT from the park or forest where you plan to start, either Yosemite National Park or Whitney Portal on the Mount Whitney Trail in the Inyo National Forest. JMT permits are in very high demand for dates in July, August, and September.

To hike the JMT southbound, apply for a permit from Yosemite National Park at recreation.gov/permits/445859 up to 24 weeks in advance of the date you want to start hiking, entering a lottery for a permit within a specific window of dates.

Permits for hiking northbound, starting at Whitney Portal on the Mount Whitney Trail, are reserved through a lottery system at recreation.gov/permits/445860, conducted in February.

See “How to Get a John Muir Trail Wilderness Permit.”

See “10 Great John Muir Trail Section Hikes.”

A hiker at Trail Crest on the John Muir Trail on Mount Whitney in Sequoia National Park.
Mark Fenton at Trail Crest on the John Muir Trail on Mount Whitney in Sequoia National Park. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan a JMT thru-hike.

Get the right backpack and tent for a hike like the JMT.
See the best ultralight backpacks and ultralight backpacking tents.

 

A backpacker on the John Muir Trail hiking toward Silver Pass in the John Muir Wilderness.
Mark Fenton backpacking the John Muir Trail hiking toward Silver Pass in the John Muir Wilderness. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan this trip.

Not Down With 20-mile Days?

It’s not for everyone, of course. Many hikers allot three weeks, a pace of about 10 miles a day. Maybe the smartest strategy for you would be something in between—say, 16 days averaging about 14 miles per day. (I can help you plan that itinerary, including suggested camps. Click here to learn more.) Experiment with backpacking longer days and traveling light on shorter trips before your JMT thru-hike.

Still, traditional backpackers can draw benefits from adopting strategies employed by fastpackers—including hiking southbound on the JMT. Besides giving you time to acclimate to the higher elevations of the southern Sierra, it gives you two resupply opportunities in the northern half (Tuolumne Meadows and Red’s Meadow) to keep your pack lighter while building up your trail legs. And it gives you half the trip—prior to reaching the last resupply opp, Muir Trail Ranch—to gauge your food needs and daily mileage capabilities.

By that time, you may find you’re walking farther every day than you anticipated and possibly eating (slightly) less than planned. Both realizations are common among people doing their first long trail. Backpackers are as likely to overestimate food as underestimate it.

Plus, except for the high passes, the JMT is not, step for step, as difficult as hiking in other parts of the country. Give serious thought to food supply and daily mileage, because leaving Muir Trail Ranch with 10 or 11 days worth of food will add about 20 pounds to your pack as you head for the JMT’s highest passes.

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A backpacker passing Wanda Lake on the John Muir Trail in Kings Canyon National Park.
Todd Arndt passing Wanda Lake on the John Muir Trail in Kings Canyon National Park.

You might even plan to hike shorter days for the trail’s northern half, as you’re getting stronger as well as to linger in places, but by the time you reach Muir Trail Ranch, be ready for longer days in order to reduce your pack’s food weight for the southern half of the JMT.

And that, really, is the whole point. Carrying too much weight on your back only makes a trip more difficult—and can make it miserable. You spend too much time thinking about when you can take a break from carrying your pack instead of thinking about where you are. That’s not why you’re out there.

Discard any misguided notion that you’ll “miss too much” by hiking bigger days—you’re still walking, after all, and only incrementally faster than you would walk with a heavier pack. You’re just walking for more hours each day—and more comfortably.

Plan your next great backpacking adventure in Yosemite
and other flagship parks using my expert e-books.

Marie Lake along the John Muir Trail in the John Muir Wilderness, High Sierra.
Marie Lake along the John Muir Trail in the John Muir Wilderness, High Sierra.

Let’s face it: The real reason you’d hike slower with a heavier pack is that it’s crushing weight is slowing you down—not because walking at that pace somehow gives you a higher-quality experience. It’s usually quite the opposite.

See all stories about backpacking the John Muir Trail at The Big Outside and my Custom Trip Planning page for details on how I can help make your JMT hike exponentially better by giving you personally customized trip planning.

Find more advice about planning a JMT thru-hike in my story about our seven-day thru-hike, which has more photos and a video, plus tips on planning it, and this menu of stories offering expert backpacking tips at The Big Outside.

Whether you’re a beginner or seasoned backpacker, you’ll learn new tricks for making all of your trips go better in my stories “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be,” “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips” and “A Practical Guide to Lightweight and Ultralight Backpacking.” With a paid subscription to The Big Outside, you can read all of those three stories for free; if you don’t have a subscription, you can download the e-book versions of “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be,” “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” and the lightweight backpacking guide without having a paid membership.

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The Best Backpacking Trips in Zion National Park https://thebigoutsideblog.com/the-best-backpacking-trips-in-zion-national-park/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/the-best-backpacking-trips-in-zion-national-park/#comments Wed, 07 Jan 2026 10:00:44 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=59760 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

If you invited all of the major Western national parks to a big family dinner, Zion would sit at the kids’ table. At a bit over 148,000 acres, Zion is dwarfed by the iconic wilderness parks that are the most sought-after by backpackers, like Yosemite (which is five times larger), Glacier (nearly seven times larger), and Grand Canyon (eight times larger), all of them with hundreds of miles of trails for backpackers to explore. But what Zion lacks in size it more than makes up for in breathtaking scenery—and for backpackers, some of the most unique, wonderful, and relatively easy multi-day hikes in the National Park System.

This story describes the best backpacking tips in Zion, based on my personal experience of doing all of these hikes on many visits there over more than three decades, including the 10 years I spent as a field editor for Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A backpacker in The Narrows in Zion National Park.
David Gordon backpacking The Narrows in Zion National Park.

A Zion backcountry permit is one of the hardest to get in the National Park System. Permit reservations can be made at recreation.gov/permits/4675338 for trips in Zion’s wilderness, except for overnight trips through Zion’s Narrows, for which reservations are made at recreation.gov/permits/4675339. Both types of permits are reserved on this schedule: March 5 at 10 a.m. Mountain Time for trips between April 1 and June 30; June 5 at 10 a.m. for July 1 to Sept. 30; Sept. 5 at 10 a.m. for Oct. 1 to Dec. 31; and Dec. 5 at 10 a.m. for Jan. 1 to March 31.

Half of the backcountry campsites in Zion can be reserved—and usually get filled within minutes after becoming available each month—and half are available for walk-in permits, obtained in person no more than one day in advance. See my “10 Tips For Getting a Hard-to-Get National Park Backcountry Permit.”

Late March through May and mid-September through October are the prime seasons for backpacking in Zion, and the cottonwood trees in Zion Canyon turn golden in October. June through early September are typically too hot and heavy rainstorms are common in July and August, while snow prevents access to higher trails on the rims in winter and snowmelt raises the river level too high to backpack The Narrows through much of the spring.

A hiker on the West Rim Trail above Zion Canyon in Zion National Park.
David Ports hiking the West Rim Trail in Zion National Park.

The park’s free shuttle buses operate regularly between the visitor center, just inside the south entrance, to the end of the Zion Canyon Scenic Drive—which is usually closed to private vehicles—for most of the year. Be aware of the shuttle schedule and when the last bus leaves the trailhead where you plan to finish a hike. Commercial shuttle services in Springdale provide rides to trailheads outside Zion Canyon.

The park has been warning hikers and backpackers against drinking water from any river or stream in Zion National Park due to a toxic cyanobacteria bloom. You will have to carry enough water for any hike or as needed between springs in the park, where you should filter the water. See more information at nps.gov/zion/planyourvisit/toxic-cyanobacteria-bloom-in-the-virgin-river-and-the-streams-of-zion-national-park.htm.

See my expert e-books to several classic backpacking trips, including “The Complete Guide to Backpacking the Narrows in Zion National Park,” and my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you plan any of these hikes or any trip you read about at The Big Outside.

Please share your comments, questions, or tips about any of these trips in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

Looking for dayhikes? See “The 10 Best Hikes in Zion National Park.”

A backpacker in The Narrows in Zion National Park.
David Gordon backpacking The Narrows in Zion National Park. Click photo for “The Complete Guide to Backpacking The Narrows in Zion National Park.”

The Narrows

There are many great canyon hikes in the Southwest, but a tiny number compare with The Narrows—which certainly ranks among the very best backpacking trips in the Southwest and the 10 best backpacking trips in America. Generally hiked over two days top to bottom, the route descends 1,500 vertical feet over 16 miles from the upper trailhead at Chamberlain Ranch to the Temple of Sinawava Trailhead at the end of the road in Zion Canyon.

A backpacker in the Narrows in Zion National Park.
David Gordon backpacking on day one in the upper Narrows in Zion National Park.

This spellbinding adventure begins with easy hiking amid forested plateau country that offers no hints of the spectacle awaiting ahead. But you quickly enter and follow the North Fork of the Virgin River downstream, often hiking directly in the mostly ankle- to calf-deep water.

The canyon walls steadily rise higher and draw closer as you walk with the river deeper into the earth, sometimes wading pools up to thigh- or waist-deep. With the permit system limiting the number of backpackers, and dayhikers not permitted to hike from the bottom of The Narrows upstream beyond Big Spring (five miles up), you’ll enjoy a surprising amount of solitude—especially on day one—in this canyon that grows ever more spectacular. Water and tiny oases of greenery erupt from solid sandstone walls, which eventually reach a thousand feet tall and squeeze down to about 20 feet across in places where you’ll see only a slender strip of sky high overhead.

Early summer and fall are the prime seasons for backpacking The Narrows, which is frequently unsafe because of high water levels in April and May and sometimes into June, and during July and August, when heavy rainstorms are common.

Hiking in the river will slow your pace more than expected for a flat hike. Use trekking poles. The water is cold in spring and fall and with little direct sunlight in The Narrows, the temperature is often 10 or more degrees Fahrenheit cooler than in Zion Canyon; plus, the wind frequently blows down canyon, making it feel colder. Bring multiple clothing layers—especially if hiking in early morning in spring or fall—and if you don’t own canyoneering boots (which drain water and have traction for slippery cobblestones underfoot), neoprene socks, and dry pants, rent them in Springdale.

Big Spring in The Narrows, Zion National Park.
Big Spring in Zion’s Narrows. Click photo for “The Complete Guide to Backpacking the Narrows in Zion National Park.”

It’s popular and tough to get a permit for, but that’s because the park regulates the number of overnight hikers to preserve a sense of a wilderness experience: A friend and I saw only two other backpackers early on our first day, and no one else until we were a couple hours downstream on our second day.

My expert e-book “The Complete Guide to Backpacking The Narrows in Zion National Park” will tell you everything you need to know to plan and execute this classic backpacking trip.

See my feature story “Luck of the Draw, Part 2: Backpacking Zion’s Narrows,” with many more photos and a video, plus basic trip-planning information (though not nearly as much trip-planning detail as provided in my Narrows e-book). Like most stories about trips at this blog, reading that story in full is an exclusive benefit for paid subscribers to The Big Outside.

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Woman and two young children backpacking the West Rim Trail in Zion National Park.
My wife, Penny, with our kids, Nate and Alex, hiking up the West Rim Trail on a family backpacking trip in Zion National Park.

The West Rim Trail

The Narrows and Angels Landing are more famous, but some locals who know the park like their back yard (because it is) call the West Rim their favorite trail in Zion. A 16.6-mile hike with about 800 vertical feet uphill and 3,600 feet downhill from the upper trailhead at Lava Point, at 7,890 feet off Kolob Terrace Road, to the Grotto Trailhead in Zion Canyon (shuttle bus stop no. 6), the West Rim Trail begins with a traverse across a high plateau overlooking a mind-boggling labyrinth of canyons and mesas.

A mother and young daughter backpacking the West Rim Trail in Zion National Park.
My wife, Penny, and our daughter, Alex, backpacking the West Rim Trail in Zion National Park.

The trail’s nine backcountry campsites lie spread out along its higher elevations, all located above Cabin Spring (the lowest of three springs along the trail), where the trail begins a steep drop of 2,500 feet over 4.7 miles into Zion Canyon, zigzagging through a landscape of towering beehive rock formations and wildly colored cliffs and passing overlooks with some of the best views of Zion Canyon.

Hiking the West Rim Trail top to bottom, usually done as an overnight trip, although some hikers and runners do it in a day, offers the opportunity to tag the summit of Angels Landing—not merely one of the best hikes in Zion, but one the best hikes in Utah’s national parks and in the entire National Park System.

At Scout Lookout on the West Rim Trail, take the nearly half-mile spur trail that follows a knife-edge spine of rock to the summit of Angels Landing, where you’ll drink up a 360-degree panorama of Zion Canyon.

The lower West Rim Trail, mostly a paved sidewalk, descends steeply at times through the tight switchbacks of Walter’s Wiggles and the often shady and cool Refrigerator Canyon before reaching the floor of Zion Canyon.

See my feature stories about backpacking in the Kolob Canyons and the West Rim Trail with my family and a 50-mile dayhike across Zion from the Kolob Canyons to Zion Canyon and the East Rim Trailhead.

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A young girl hiking the La Verkin Creek Trail in Zion National Park.
My daughter, Alex, hiking the La Verkin Creek Trail in Zion National Park.

La Verkin Creek Trail

At the Lee Pass Trailhead in the Kolob Canyons area of Zion National Park, you get an immediate introduction to the enchanting scenery awaiting on the hike up the La Verkin Creek Trail, standing at an overlook of deep-red cliffs rising hundreds of feet tall, split by parallel canyons. (Tip: Drive a few minutes past the trailhead to the Kolob Canyons Viewpoint at the end of the road—you won’t regret it).

Plus, you’re starting out 2,000 feet higher in elevation than Zion Canyon, in an area of the park with cooler temperatures when it’s getting hot at the park’s lower elevations. Even more appealing, the Kolob Canyons draw far fewer people than the enormously popular trails in Zion Canyon and along the Zion-Mt. Carmel Highway.

La Verkin Creek in the Kolob Canyons of Zion National Park.
La Verkin Creek in the Kolob Canyons of Zion National Park.

A relatively easy, out-and-back hike of about 14 miles (more or less, depending on where you camp), with about 1,000 vertical feet both uphill and downhill, this is an ideal overnight or two-night hike for families with young kids and beginner backpackers but also a beautiful hike for anyone—and an opportunity to explore these remote canyons.

The trail follows perennial La Verkin Creek through a canyon with scattered cottonwood trees and lots of greenery, contrasting dramatically with the red cliffs. At 6.4 miles from Lee Pass, the trail reaches a junction with the Kolob Arch Trail, a 1.2-mile hike to an overlook of the 287-foot span, considered the world’s sixth largest, but you see it only from a distance.

Like many Southwestern streams, La Verkin Creek’s level varies significantly throughout the year, often running high and brown with silt in spring, while mellowing to a much lower, quieter, and clearer stream by late summer and fall. It can be challenging to ford in spring and usually easy by fall, but fording isn’t necessary for a dayhike or overnight trip on the La Verkin Creek Trail—only if you want to continue south from La Verkin to Hop Valley and Kolob Terrace Road, and perhaps through Wildcat Canyon to the West Rim Trail.

There are 10 backcountry campsites between Lee Pass and the Kolob Arch Trail on the La Verkin Creek Trail and three more farther upstream, beyond the junction with the Hop Valley Trail at 6.7 miles from the trailhead. The Lee Pass Trailhead just over two miles from the Kolob Canyons entrance in the park’s northwest corner, off exit 40 on I-15.

See my feature stories about backpacking in the Kolob Canyons and on the West Rim Trail and a 50-mile dayhike across Zion from the Kolob Canyons to Zion Canyon and the East Rim Trailhead.

I’ve helped many readers plan unforgettable backpacking and hiking trips.
Want my help with yours? Click here now.

A hiker on the West Rim Trail, Zion National Park.
David Ports hiking the West Rim Trail in Zion National Park.

Kolob Canyons to Zion Canyon

The Hop Valley in Zion National Park.
The Hop Valley in Zion National Park.

Want to take the best long backpacking trip in Zion? The 37-mile, north-to-south traverse from the Lee Pass Trailhead in the Kolob Canyons to the Grotto trailhead in Zion Canyon links up the La Verkin Creek, Hop Valley, Wildcat Canyon, and West Rim trails on a generally downhill route through these highlights of Zion’s backcountry, including, of course, Angels Landing,

Typically done in four days, this trip’s scenery justifies its logistical complications, such as transportation (there are commercial shuttle services) and limited safe water sources. But the few springs along the route as well as the opportunities to cache water at the Hop Valley or Wildcat trailhead on Kolob Terrace Road, approximately halfway through the trip, and replenish again in Zion Canyon, enable completing this hike without carrying onerous water weight. Seasonal timing is also key and springs often flow stronger from March through May than in the fall.

Hike “The 10 Best National Park Backpacking Trips
and “The 10 Best Backpacking Trips in the Southwest.”

 

A hiker on the Hidden Canyon Trail in Zion National Park, a short side hike off the Observation Point/East Rim Trail that's currently closed.
Jeff Wilhelm hiking the Hidden Canyon Trail in Zion, a short side hike off the Observation Point/East Rim Trail that’s currently closed.

Zion Traverse

An owl in Hidden Canyon, Zion National Park.
An owl in Hidden Canyon, Zion National Park.

An unforgettable multi-day hike with few peers in the Southwest or the entire country—and a classic, one-day challenge for ultra-fit dayhikers and trail runners—the roughly 50-mile, north-south traverse of Zion from the Lee Pass Trailhead to the East Entrance Trailhead crosses the entire park, extending the Kolob Canyons to Zion Canyon trek (above) onto the East Rim Trail.

Unfortunately, the Observation Point Trail has been closed since a major rockfall in 2019, with no indications of reopening. The usual access, the Observation Point/East Rim Trailhead and the Weeping Rock shuttle stop no. 7 in Zion Canyon, are closed, barring access from there to the upper section the East Rim Trail as well as two great hikes, Observation Point and Hidden Canyon—and shutting down, for now, a critical link from the West Rim Trail to the East Rim Trail that’s necessary to complete the full Zion traverse.

For dayhikers and backpackers who want to access the East Rim area and Observation Point, there is an alternative route from the East Mesa Trailhead, at about 6,500 feet outside the park. See “The 10 Best Hikes in Zion National Park.”

See all stories about backpacking in Zion National Park at The Big Outside.

 

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Pro Tips For Buying a Backpacking Sleeping Bag https://thebigoutsideblog.com/pro-tips-how-to-choose-a-sleeping-bag/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/pro-tips-how-to-choose-a-sleeping-bag/#comments Wed, 07 Jan 2026 10:00:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=3677 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Finding a sleeping bag that’s right for you may be the most confusing gear-buying task. Getting the right one is critical to sleeping comfortably in the backcountry—and in an emergency, your bag could save your life. But with the myriad choices out there, how do you tell them apart, beyond temperature rating and price? This article will explain how to evaluate the key differences between bags to make your choice much more simple.

I’ve slept in many, many bags of all types over three decades of testing gear—including the 10 years I spent as the lead gear reviewer for Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog. I’ve zipped inside bags in all seasons, in temperatures from ridiculously warm to -30° F. (Ridiculously warm is more tolerable.)


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


Feathered Friends Hummingbird UL 30 sleeping bag.
The ultralight and warm Feathered Friends Hummingbird UL 30 sleeping bag, with 950+-fill down. Click photo to read the review.

In this article, I’ll share what I’ve learned about picking out a sleeping bag—or more than one bag—that will be ideal for your body and your adventures.

I’d love to read what you think of my tips or any of your own. Please share them in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments. Click on any bag photo below to read its review.

Nemo Riff 30 Endless Promise sleeping bag.
The Nemo Riff 30 Endless Promise sleeping bag. Click photo to read my review.

General Tips For Buying a Sleeping Bag

•    Know your own body. Do you get cold easily or are you a furnace? Women tend to get cold more easily, and this is a simple function of physics: Women often have a higher ratio of body surface area to mass compared to men, so their bodies lose heat more readily. Those women are more comfortable in a bag made for women, which is shaped differently than a men’s bag and typically has extra insulation in areas like the feet. However, it also comes down to body metabolism.
•    If you get cold easily, get a bag rated 20 to 25 degrees colder than the coldest temperatures you plan to sleep outside in.
•    If you don’t get cold easily you may be more comfortable in a bag rated about five to 15 degrees below the coldest temperatures you plan to sleep outside in—and possibly even a bag rated right around the coldest temp you’ll encounter, provided you have extra clothing to put on, just in case. (I’ve spent many nights around freezing perfectly warm enough in a bag rated 30-32° F.) Being too hot is not really any more comfortable than being too cold and having a bag much warmer than needed means you’re carrying superfluous weight and bulk. (See “A Practical Guide to Lightweight and Ultralight Backpacking.”)

See “10 Pro Tips for Staying Warm in a Sleeping Bag.”

The Mountain Hardwear Phantom 30 sleeping bag.
The Mountain Hardwear Phantom 30 sleeping bag. Click photo to read my review.

Down Vs. Synthetic Bags

Down has traditionally been lighter, more packable, and warmer than many synthetic insulations; but once wet, synthetics still kept you fairly warm, while down feathers become all but useless at retaining heat. Today, the lines between down and synthetic have been blurred somewhat with the development of high-quality, lightweight and compact synthetic insulations like PrimaLoft, and water-resistant down, which retains its ability to trap heat even when wet. 

Down is more packable and very durable, so it still holds an advantage as the insulation of choice if you don’t expect to get that bag wet; and water-resistant down enhances your bag’s performance in common circumstances where it may get damp, such as when condensation builds up inside a tent. Still, even water-resistant down, once saturated, loses much of its ability to keep you warm, and drying out any bag is extremely difficult, if not impossible, in prolonged, wet weather. Synthetic insulation remains the best choice for extended trips in wet environments.

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Therm-a-Rest Hyperion 32F/0C sleeping bag.
The one-pound Therm-a-Rest Hyperion 32F/0C sleeping bag. Click photo to read my review.

High-quality down (rated from 800- to 900-fill or higher) is the warmest, lightest, most packable insulation out there, but expensive, while lower-quality down (usually 600- to 700-fill) still has the advantages of down and makes a bag less expensive but also heavier and bulkier. Manufacturers use lower-grade synthetic insulation in bags priced cheaply, making them much heavier and bulkier than better synthetic and down bags—typically too heavy and bulky for backpacking (unless you’re on a very limited budget and don’t mind carrying a big pack).

So the down vs. synthetic choice still comes down to pocketbook issues and the likelihood of your bag actually getting wet.

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Jeff Wilhelm above Granite Creek on the Wonderland Trail, Mount Rainier National Park. Click photo to see “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips.”

Temperature Rating

In the past, bag manufacturers decided on temperature ratings for their own bags; the outdoor industry lacked a standardized method for measuring that. In recent years, though, the industry widely adopted the EN (European Norm) temperature rating system, internationally considered the most reliable and objective standard.

Found on most new bags, the EN rating typically includes three temperature ratings:

•    Comfort rating, or the lowest temperature at which the bag will keep the average woman warm (based on the premise that women usually get cold more easily than men).
•    Lower-limit rating, or the lowest temperature at which the bag will keep the average man warm.
•    Extreme rating, or the lowest temperature at which the bag will keep someone alive, albeit not comfortable, in unexpected, extreme conditions.

I’ve helped many readers plan unforgettable backpacking and hiking trips.
Want my help with yours? Click here now.

 

See all of my reviews of sleeping bags and air mattresses and sleeping pads that I like at The Big Outside.

See also my related stories:

5 Expert Tips For Buying the Right Backpacking Pack
10 Tips For Spending Less on Hiking and Backpacking Gear
5 Expert Tips For Buying a Backpacking Tent
A Practical Guide to Lightweight and Ultralight Backpacking
5 Smart Steps to Lighten Your Backpacking Gear

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America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips https://thebigoutsideblog.com/my-top-10-favorite-backpacking-trips/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/my-top-10-favorite-backpacking-trips/#comments Tue, 06 Jan 2026 10:00:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=17698 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

What makes for a great backpacking trip? Certainly top-shelf scenery is mandatory. An element of adventurousness enhances a hike, in my eyes. While there’s definitely something inspirational about a big walk in the wild, some of the finest trips in the country can be done in a few days and half of the hikes on this list are under 50 miles. Another factor that truly matters is a wilderness experience: All 10 are in national parks or wilderness areas.

I’ve probably thought about this more than a mentally stable person should, having done many of America’s (and the world’s) most beautiful multi-day hikes over more than three decades (and counting) of carrying a backpack, including my 10 years as a field editor for Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog. In the final analysis, though, the criterion that matters most is more simple and intuitive: that it’s undeniably a great trip. And that character shows itself over and over in my picks for the 10 best backpacking trips in the country.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A backpacker hiking the Dawson Pass Trail in Glacier National Park.
Pam Solon backpacking the Dawson Pass Trail in Glacier National Park. Click photo to read about this trip.

Each hike here merits a 10 for scenery. The longest trips on this list can be chopped up into smaller portions. Each description below includes a difficulty rating on a scale of 1 to 5, with 5 being the hardest in terms of strenuousness and challenge. I’ve listed them in a random order that’s not intended as a quality ranking; I think that’s impossible.

I regularly update this list as I take new trips that belong on it—but it has remained largely unchanged for a while (I think you’ll see why), except for adding new photos and links to new stories each time I revisit one of these trails or parks; as well as adding some new Close Runners-Up trip suggestions, which accompany each hike in my top 10.

My advice: Do every one of these top 10 and runner-up hikes that you can, when you can—many of the top 10 are harder to get a permit for than the runners-up, so the latter group provide good backup plans. You won’t be disappointed with any of them.

A backpacker on the Teton Crest Trail, North Fork Cascade Canyon, Grand Teton National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking the Teton Crest Trail in the North Fork Cascade Canyon, Grand Teton National Park. Click photo for my complete e-book to backpacking the Teton Crest Trail.

The descriptions and photos below link to stories at The Big Outside that have more images and information about these trips (most of which require a paid subscription to read in full)—including tips on planning each one yourself and when to apply for a backcountry permit, which is generally months in advance.

See my affordable, expert e-books to several of the trips described below and my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you plan any of these classic adventures, variations of them, or any trip you read about at The Big Outside. You might also find helpful tips in my stories “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tipsand “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”

If you have a trip to suggest, please tell me about it in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I hope to get to them all. It’s a tough assignment, but I’m on it.

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A backpacker in the Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne River in Yosemite in Yosemite National Park.
Todd Arndt backpacking the Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne River in Yosemite. Click photo to see all of my expert e-books to backpacking in Yosemite and other parks.

A Grand Tour of Yosemite

Distance: 152 miles, with multiple shorter variations
Difficulty: 4

A backpacker hiking at dawn above the Lyell Fork of the Merced River, Yosemite National Park.
Mark Fenton hiking at dawn above the Lyell Fork of the Merced River in Yosemite. Click photo for my e-book “The Best Backpacking Trip in Yosemite.”

John Muir saw more than a few world-class wildernesses, and he focused much of his time and energy on exploring and protecting Yosemite. A lot of people would legitimately argue it’s the best national park for backpackers. After several trips there, I had thought I’d seen Yosemite’s finest corners, including many trails in the park’s core, its section of the John Muir Trail, and the summits of Half Dome and Clouds Rest.

Then, in two trips totaling seven days spread over two years, I backpacked 152 miles through the biggest patches of wilderness in the park, south and north of Tuolumne Meadows (also shown in the lead photo at the top of this story)—and discovered Yosemite’s true soul, a vast reach of deep, granite-walled canyons, peaks rising to over 12,000 feet, and one gorgeous mountain lake after another dappling the landscape. And after those two trips, I returned again to backpack a 45-mile hike that I subsequently dubbed “Yosemite’s Best-Kept Secret Backpacking Trip.”

See my stories “Best of Yosemite: Backpacking South of Tuolumne Meadows,” about the 65-mile first leg of that 152-mile grand tour of Yosemite, “Best of Yosemite: Backpacking Remote Northern Yosemite,” about the nearly 87-mile second leg, “Backpacking Yosemite: What You Need to Know,” and all stories about backpacking in Yosemite at The Big Outside.

Get my expert e-books to backpacking the 65-mile hike south of Tuolumne Meadows
and the 87-mile hike through northern Yosemite (which include shorter options).

A mother and young daughter backpacking the High Sierra Trail above Hamilton Lakes, Sequoia National Park.
My wife, Penny, and daughter, Alex, backpacking the High Sierra Trail above Hamilton Lakes in Sequoia National Park.

Want more of a less-committing, introductory backpacking trip in Yosemite? See my story “Where to Backpack First Time in Yosemite.” The trip I suggest in that story is described in much greater detail in my e-book “The Best First Backpacking Trip in Yosemite.” That e-book offers planning tips and suggested daily itineraries for a primary route and alternate itineraries for backpacking trips in the spectacular core of Yosemite, between Yosemite Valley and Tuolumne Meadows.

Close Runners-Up:

See “The 10 Best Backpacking Trips in Yosemite” and “Heavy Lifting: Backpacking Sequoia National Park,” about a 40-mile family backpacking trip that featured campsites that made both my top 25 all-time favorites and my list of the nicest backcountry campsites I’ve hiked past, plus all stories about backpacking in the High Sierra at The Big Outside.


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to get professional-quality prints of this blog’s most inspiring images!


A backpacker hiking the Ptarmigan Tunnel Trail above Elizabeth Lake in Glacier National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking the Ptarmigan Tunnel Trail above Elizabeth Lake in Glacier. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan your Glacier trip.

Two Hikes in Glacier National Park

Distance of each: 90-94 miles, with shorter variations
Difficulty of each: 3

Backpackers hiking the Continental Divide Trail in Glacier National Park.
Backpackers hiking the Piegan Pass Trail in Glacier National Park. Click photo for my e-books to backpacking in Glacier and other parks.

With rivers of ice pouring off of craggy mountains and cliffs, deeply green forests, over 760 lakes offering mirror reflections of it all, megafauna like bighorn sheep, mountain goats, elk, moose, and grizzly and black bears, and over a million acres in Montana’s Northern Rockies, most of it wilderness, little wonder that Glacier is so popular with backpackers.

Two big hikes of over 90 miles—both of which have multiple possible shorter variations—deservedly grace this top 10 list. On both, my companions and I saw all of those sights and large beasts described above—yes, including grizzlies—and enjoyed a surprising degree of solitude even while hitting many of the park’s highlights.

One, a 90-miler through northern Glacier, split into 65- and 25-mile legs, was a variation of a hike known as the Northern Loop, following a route I customized to hit some of Glacier’s best scenery, including the entire Highline Trail, the Many Glacier area, Piegan Pass and Stoney Indian Pass, the Ptarmigan Wall and Tunnel, and some of the park’s finest lakes and most-remote wilderness.

On the second hike, three friends and I backpacked about 94 miles through Glacier, from Chief Mountain Trailhead at the Canadian border in the park’s northeast corner to Two Medicine, combining parts of the primary and alternate routes of the Continental Divide Trail, and adding the high, alpine trail from Pitamakan Pass to Dawson Pass above Two Medicine. Yet again, we saw bighorn sheep, mountain goats, black bears, moose, and a griz, and heard elk bugling almost every morning and evening (because it was September)—not to mention vistas unlike anywhere else in America.

See my story about the two-stage, 90-mile hike “Descending the Food Chain: Backpacking Glacier National Park’s Northern Loop,” my story “Wildness All Around You: Backpacking the CDT Through Glacier” about the 94-mile hike, and “Déjà vu All Over Again: Backpacking in Glacier National Park,” about my most recent, weeklong hike in Glacier on a variation of the CDT route.

Get my expert e-books to backpacking Glacier’s Northern Loop and the CDT through Glacier.

A backpacker on the Rockwall Trail, Kootenay National Park, Canada.
My wife, Penny, backpacking the Rockwall Trail in Kootenay National Park, Canada.

And check out “10 Backpacking Trips for Solitude in Glacier National Park,” “How to Get a Permit to Backpack in Glacier National Park,” and all stories about backpacking in Glacier at The Big Outside.

Close Runners-Up:

Think of the Canadian Rockies this way: They resemble Glacier but with more and bigger glaciers and covering a much vaster area. For much of its distance, the 34-mile Rockwall Trail in Kootenay National Park passes below a long chain of sheer cliffs and mountains that conjure images of numerous El Capitans lined up in a row, but with thick tongues of glacial ice pouring off them. And the 27-mile Skyline Trail in Jasper National Park remains above treeline for more than half its distance, with nearly constant panoramas of massive walls of rock and a sea of mountains in every direction.

Retaining a surprising degree of anonymity considering that they’re situated between Glacier and Yellowstone, the Beartooth Mountains rise to over 12,000 feet and are most uniquely characterized by high, rolling, alpine plateaus over 10,000 feet. Like Glacier, the Beartooths have deep, glacier-carved canyons with remnant patches of ancient ice, and are home to moose, mountain goats, bighorn sheep, elk, bald eagles, gray wolves, black bears, and grizzlies—plus hundreds of trout-filled alpine lakes. See my story “Backpacking the High and Mighty Beartooth Mountains.”

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A backpacker on the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park. Click photo for my Teton Crest Trail e-book.

Teton Crest Trail

Distance: 33-40 miles, multiple variations
Difficulty: 4

A backpacker on the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park.
David Gordon on the Teton Crest Trail in the North Fork Cascade Canyon.

One of my first big, Western backpacking trips was on the Teton Crest Trail in Wyoming’s Grand Teton National Park, and it so inspired me that I’ve returned more than 20 times since to backpack, dayhike, rock climb, backcountry ski, and paddle a canoe in the Tetons. I can’t imagine that jagged skyline ever failing to give me chills.

Running north-south through the heart of the national park and adjacent national forest lands, the Teton Crest Trail stays above treeline for much of its distance, with expansive views of the peaks, but also drops into the beautiful South Fork and North Fork of Cascade Canyon, Paintbrush Canyon, and the upper forks of Granite Canyon, and crosses Paintbrush Divide at 10,720 feet.

Various trails access it, allowing for multiple route options, any of them making for one of America’s premier multi-day hikes.

See my stories  “A Wonderful Obsession: Backpacking the Teton Crest Trail,” “5 Reasons You Must Backpack the Teton Crest Trail,” “How to Get a Permit to Backpack the Teton Crest Trail,” and “Walking Familiar Ground: Reliving Old Memories and Making New Ones on the Teton Crest Trail,” plus all stories about backpacking the Teton Crest Trail at The Big Outside.

I’ve helped countless readers plan a perfect, personally customized itinerary on the Teton Crest Trail. See my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you plan your trip.

Yearning to backpack in the Tetons? See my e-books to the Teton Crest Trail
and the best short backpacking trip in the Tetons.

Close Runners-Up:

A two- or three-day hike linking any of the east-side canyons in Grand Teton National Park, such as the nearly 20-mile Paintbrush Canyon-Cascade Canyon loop (the most popular in the park). See “The 5 Best Backpacking Trips in Grand Teton National Park.” Or virtually any backpacking trip in the Wind River Range (see below).

A backpacker on the Wonderland Trail in Mount Rainier National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm on the Wonderland Trail in Mount Rainier National Park. Click photo for my e-book to backpacking the Wonderland Trail.

The Wonderland Trail

Backpackers in Moraine Park on the Wonderland Trail, Mount Rainier National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm and Todd Arndt in Moraine Park on the Wonderland Trail, Mount Rainier National Park.

Distance: 93 miles, with shorter variations
Difficulty: 4

No multi-day hike in the contiguous United States compares with the Wonderland Trail around Mount Rainier—because there’s no mountain in the Lower 48 like glacier-clad, 14,410-foot Mount Rainier.

Backpacking the Wonderland Trail, one repeatedly sees Rainier fill the horizon at a seemingly unbelievable scale, a sight always thrilling and inspiring. This trail features some of the most beautiful wildflower meadows you will ever see, countless waterfalls and cascades, crystalline creeks and raging rivers gray with “glacial flour,” and likely sightings of mountain goats, marmots, deer, and possibly black bears.

Accessed from several trailheads, it can be thru-hiked in its entirety—commonly done over nine to 10 days—or you can backpack shorter trips of varying lengths on sections of the Wonderland. The full loop is a strenuous trip, with over 44,000 cumulative vertical feet of elevation gain and loss, and choices you make like which direction to hike the loop, where to begin it, and whether to take a popular detour onto the higher and more-scenic Spray Park Trail, all affect the trip’s overall difficulty—which I spell out in detail in my expert e-book “The Complete Guide to Backpacking the Wonderland Trail in Mount Rainier National Park.”

This much I will guarantee: The Wonderland Trail is the kind of adventure that stays with you long afterward.

A backpacker on the Timberline Trail around Oregon's Mount Hood.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking the Timberline Trail around Oregon’s Mount Hood.

See my stories “5 Reasons You Must Backpack Mount Rainier’s Wonderland Trail,” “How to Get a Permit to Backpack Rainier’s Wonderland Trail” and “An American Gem: Backpacking Mount Rainier’s Wonderland Trail,” about a 77-mile hike on what I consider the WT’s best sections (a route described as one of the alternate itineraries in my e-book).

Close Runner-Up:

See my story “Full of Surprises: Backpacking Mount Hood’s Timberline Trail” about a trip very similar in character to the Wonderland Trail—but much shorter and requiring no permit reservation—the 41-mile Timberline Trail around Oregon’s Mount Hood.

Want to hike the Wonderland Trail? Get my expert e-book
The Complete Guide to Backpacking the Wonderland Trail in Mount Rainier National Park.”

A backpacker in The Narrows in Zion National Park.
David Gordon backpacking The Narrows in Zion National Park.

Zion’s Narrows

Distance: 16 miles
Difficulty: 2

The North Fork of the Virgin River carves out a uniquely deep, slender, and awe-inspiring redrock canyon in Utah’s Zion National Park, with walls up to 1,000 feet tall that close in to just 20 feet apart in places. Springs gush from cracks in the walls, nourishing lush hanging gardens. On clear nights, a black sky riddled with stars fills the narrow strip visible between the rock walls soaring overhead.

Backpackers in the narrows of Paria Canyon.
Backpackers in the narrows of Paria Canyon.

In the low-water levels when backpackers typically make the two-day descent of The Narrows, you’re walking most of the time in water from ankle-deep (most commonly) to, occasionally, waist-deep, over a cobblestone riverbed that makes for slow progress.

Click here now for my e-book to Backpacking Zion’s Narrows.

But you’ll feel no desire to rush through one of the most enchanting hikes in the National Park System (especially since the lower end is often crowded with dayhikers, while the trip’s first day and second morning are much quieter).

See my story “Luck of the Draw, Part 2: Backpacking Zion’s Narrows.”

Close Runners-Up:

Paria Canyon and Buckskin Gulch
Traversing Zion National Park
The Needles District and Maze District of Canyonlands National Park
Coyote Gulch, Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument
Death Hollow Loop, Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument
Aravaipa Canyon, Arizona

Get the right gear for your trips. See “The 10 Best Backpacking Packs
and “The 10 Best Backpacking Tents.”

 

A backpacker passing Wanda Lake on the John Muir Trail in Kings Canyon National Park.
Todd Arndt passing Wanda Lake, in the Evolution Basin along the John Muir Trail in Kings Canyon National Park.

John Muir Trail

A backpacker hiking the John Muir Trail above Marie Lake in the John Muir Wilderness, High Sierra.
Marco Garofalo backpacking the John Muir Trail above Marie Lake in the John Muir Wilderness, High Sierra.

Distance: 221 miles
Difficulty: 4

The John Muir Trail’s 211 miles from Yosemite Valley to the highest summit in the Lower 48, 14,505-foot Mount Whitney in Sequoia National Park, has often been described as “America’s Most Beautiful Trail”—and hyperbolic as it sounds, it’s hard to argue against that lofty claim.

The two- to three-week journey through California’s High Sierra (totaling 221 miles, including the 10-mile descent off Whitney, not actually part of the JMT) stays mostly above 9,000 feet as it traverses mile after jaw-dropping mile of a landscape of incisor peaks, too many waterfalls to name, and countless, pristine wilderness lakes nestled in granite basins.

You climb over numerous passes between 11,000 and over 13,000 feet, with views that stretch a hundred miles. Although not a place for solitude during the peak season (mid-July to mid-September), the JMT may be the one hike on this list that every serious backpacker probably aspires to accomplish.

The hardest part may be what comes long before you lace up your boots: getting a JMT permit, which necessarily requires figuring out your itinerary and how many days you will spend on the trail.

A backpacker hiking through Granite Park in the John Muir Wilderness, High Sierra, California.
Jason Kauffman backpacking through Granite Park in the John Muir Wilderness.

See all stories about backpacking the John Muir Trail at The Big Outside, including “How to Get a John Muir Trail Wilderness Permit,” “Thru-Hiking the John Muir Trail: What You Need to Know,” an “Ultimate, 10-Day, Ultralight Plan” for a JMT thru-hike, and “Thru-Hiking the John Muir Trail in Seven Days: Amazing Experience, or Certifiably Insane?

Close Runners-Up:

See “10 Great John Muir Trail Section Hikes,” “High Sierra Ramble: 130 Miles On—and Off—the John Muir Trail,” “Heavy Lifting: Backpacking Sequoia National Park,” my story about a remote, partly off-trail, 32-mile traverse of the John Muir Wilderness, and all stories about High Sierra backpacking trips at The Big Outside.

Want to hike the Teton Crest Trail, John Muir Trail, or another trip on this list?
Click here for expert custom trip planning you won’t get elsewhere.

A backpacker on the Tonto Trail in the Grand Canyon.
Mark Fenton backpacking the Tonto Trail in the Gbookrand Canyon. Click photo for my e-book “The Best Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon.”

South Kaibab to Lipan Point, Grand Canyon

Distance: 74 miles, with shorter variations
Difficulty: 5

Every backpacking trip I’ve taken in the Grand Canyon deserves a spot on this list—the place possesses all the qualities of a great adventure, in a landscape like nowhere else on the planet. But when a longtime backcountry ranger in the park told me this 74-mile hike was “the best backpacking trip in the Grand Canyon,” of course I had to check it out.

After backpacking it, I decided: He’s right.

Backpackers and wildflowers along the Grand Canyon's Escalante Route.
Backpackers and wildflowers along the Grand Canyon’s Escalante Route. Click photo to read about “The Best Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon.”

For starters, the South Kaibab is one of the best trails in the entire National Park System. Beyond that, this route follows one of the of the prettiest and most adventurous “trails” in the canyon, the Escalante Route, which involves some tricky route-finding and exposed scrambling. This hike also includes an outstanding section of the Tonto Trail, the beautiful and surprisingly rigorous Beamer Trail, and another lovely, rim-to-river footpath, the Tanner Trail.

Plus, you’ll enjoy some of the best backcountry campsites you’ve ever spent a night in, including beaches on the Colorado River, and the kind of solitude that’s rare in many national parks.

See “The Best Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon.”

Get my expert e-books to “The Best Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon
and an easier alternative, “The Best First Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon.”

A hiker on the upper South Kaibab Trail, Grand Canyon.
David Ports on the Grand Canyon’s South Kaibab Trail.

I’ve helped many readers plan a perfect, personally customized backpacking itinerary in the Grand Canyon—a place where trip planning is complicated by seasonal temperature extremes and road access, scarce water sources, high competition for backcountry permits, and significant differences in character and difficulty between trails and routes.

See my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you plan your Big Ditch backpacking trip.

Close Runners-Up:

Almost any other trip in the Grand Canyon. See “10 Epic Grand Canyon Backpacking Trips You Must Do,” “How to Get a Permit to Backpack in the Grand Canyon,” and all stories about backpacking in the Grand Canyon at The Big Outside.

Hike all of “The 12 Best Backpacking Trips in the Southwest.”
For a beginner-friendly trip, see “The 5 Southwest Backpacking Trips You Should Do First.”

 

A young boy backpacking the wilderness coast of Olympic National Park.
My son, Nate, backpacking the wilderness coast of Olympic National Park.

The Southern Olympic Coast

Distance: 17.5 miles
Difficulty: 2

The 17.5-mile hike from the Hoh River north to La Push Road, on the southern coast of Washington’s Olympic National Park, is still one of my kids’ most memorable backpacking trips—mostly for the hours they spent playing in tide pools on the beach (they were nine and seven at the time). But it’s also one that backpackers of all ages find gorgeous and fascinating.

A backpacker descending a rope ladder on the coast of Olympic National Park.
My wife, Penny, descending a rope ladder on the coast of Olympic National Park.

It features giant trees in one of Earth’s largest virgin temperature rainforests; frequently mist-shrouded views of scores of sea stacks rising up to 200 feet out of the ocean; boulders wallpapered with sea stars, mussels, and sea anemones; rugged and very muddy hiking on overland trails around impassable headlands; sightings of seals, sea otters, whales, and to my kids’ delight, lots of slugs; and rope ladders to climb and descend very steep terrain—including cliffs.

Consequently, while just as scenic, it’s less crowded than the more popular northern stretch of the Olympic coast. The 73-mile-long finger of the park on the Pacific Ocean protects the longest stretch of wilderness coastline in the contiguous United States—and one of America’s most unique backpacking adventures.

See my story “The Wildest Shore: Backpacking the Southern Olympic Coast.”

A backpacker at Park Creek Pass, North Cascades National Park.
Todd Arndt at Park Creek Pass in North Cascades National Park.

Close Runner-Up:

Honestly, nothing.

But for classic wilderness trips in the Pacific Northwest, I suggest the hike to Cascade Pass and up Sahale Arm to Sahale Glacier Camp, in North Cascades National Park, with a jaw-dropping campsite view; this 80-mile hike (and shorter variations of it) in the North Cascades; the Spider Gap-Buck Creek Pass Loop in the Glacier Peak Wilderness; and certainly, Mount Hood’s Timberline Trail.

See all stories about Olympic National Park and stories about the North Cascades at The Big Outside.

See Tent Flap With a View: 25 Favorite Backcountry Campsites.”

A backpacker just north of Jackass Pass in the Cirque of the Towers. in Wyoming's Wind River Range.
Chip Roser just north of Jackass Pass in the Cirque of the Towers. in Wyoming’s Wind River Range.

The Wind River Range

Distance: multiple routes and distances
Difficulty: 3 to 5

The Winds can’t honestly be described as “undiscovered,” by any stretch. Still, as popular as a few corners are, much of this Wyoming range offers a rare combination of periods of solitude amid some of the most dramatic peaks and beautiful mountain lakes in the country—lots of lakes. Rank U.S. mountain ranges according to the best scenery and lakes, and I think the top two are the Winds and the High Sierra—and you could argue which is number one for as many years as it would take to visit every lake in the Winds.

I’ve taken several trips into the Winds over the past three decades, backpacking, climbing, and one really long dayhike—all of them outstanding, but a few places stand out.

A backpacker at a small tarn in the upper valley of Middle Fork Lake on the Wind River High Route, Wyoming.
Justin Glass at a small tarn in the upper valley of Middle Fork Lake on the Wind River High Route, Wyoming.

One was a camp in Titcomb Basin—where granite peaks rise to over 13,000 feet from lakes at over 10,000 feet—on a 41-mile loop where two friends and I hiked past a constellation of beautiful lakes and took a spicy off-trail route over 12,240-foot Knapsack Col.

On long stretches of a lonely, 43-mile loop in a less-visited area of the Winds, we enjoyed one of the best backcountry campsites I’ve ever had, crossed four high passes, and walked one stunning trail after another past numerous alpine lakes, including two of the prettiest backcountry lakes I’ve hiked past without camping at.

I’ve climbed in and hiked through the Cirque of the Towers on multiple epic adventures, including a 27-mile, east-west dayhike across the Winds and a 96-mile, mostly off-trail, south-north traverse of the Wind River High Route. But most recently, a friend and I hiked across the Cirque to cap off a four-day loop from Big Sandy that crosses four passes and features camps by beautiful lakes—a route I consider the best multi-day hike in the Winds.

The Winds can seriously make you wonder: “Why don’t I just come here all the time?”

Don’t forget anything important! See “An Essentials-Only Backpacking Gear Checklist.”

A backpacker hiking to Island Lake in Wyoming's Wind River Range.
Todd Arndt backpacking to Island Lake in Wyoming’s Wind River Range.

See “The 10 Best Backpacking Trips in the Wind River Range,” “5 Reasons You Must Backpack the Wind River Range,” “The Best Backpacking Trip in the Wind River Range? Yup,” and all stories about backpacking in the Wind River Range at The Big Outside.

Close Runner-Up:

See my stories about another high, rugged mountain range where you can find solitude, northern Utah’s High Uintas: “Backpacking—and Sandbagging—Utah’s Uinta Highline Trail” and “Tall and Lonely: Backpacking Utah’s High Uintas Wilderness.”

Ready to hike one of the world’s great treks?
Click here now for my e-book “The Perfect, Flexible Plan for Hiking the Tour du Mont Blanc.”

Alice Lake in Idaho's Sawtooth Mountains.
Alice Lake in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains. Click photo for my e-book “The Best Backpacking Trip in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains.”

Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains

Distance: 36 miles, with longer and shorter variations
Difficulty: 2

The Sawtooths are one of the West’s most under-appreciated mountain ranges, with national park-caliber scenery, but nowhere near the numbers of hikers found in the most popular parks (although more and more backpackers are exploring the few popular areas of the Sawtooths).

Having backpacked and climbed through most of the range since settling in Idaho more than 20 years ago, the multi-day hike I’d recommend there is a five-day, roughly 36-mile route from Redfish Lake to Tin Cup Trailhead on Pettit Lake, including an out-and-back side trip to one of the finest lakes basins in the entire range.

Dawn light on Baron Lake in Idaho's Sawtooth Mountains.
Dawn light on Baron Lake in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains.

Requiring a short shuttle that can be arranged locally—the Sawtooth trails aren’t conducive to creating long loop hikes—this trip crosses four passes over 9,000 feet and features campsites on some of the Sawtooths’ best mountain lakes, below endless jagged ridgelines.

See my story “The Best of Idaho’s Sawtooths: Backpacking Redfish to Pettit.” My expert e-book “The Best Backpacking Trip in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains” tells you all you need to know to plan and pull off this trip and includes three alternate itineraries that allow you to shorten the hike to four days or extend it to six or seven days.

Rock Slide Lake, Sawtooth Mountains.
Rock Slide Lake, Sawtooth Mountains.

Close Runners-Up:

See my stories “Mountain Lakes of Idaho’s Sawtooths—A Photo Gallery,” “The Best Hikes and Backpacking Trips in Idaho’s Sawtooths” and “Going After Goals: Backpacking in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains,” about a 57-mile hike in the more remote southern Sawtooths.

See also my story about the Idaho Wilderness Trail, a nearly 300-mile, long-distance trail I helped conceive that passes through the Sawtooths, and all stories about Idaho’s Sawtooths and neighboring White Cloud Mountains at The Big Outside; plus my story about another under-appreciated mountain range dappled with gorgeous lakes, northeastern Oregon’s Wallowas, “Learning the Hard Way: Backpacking Oregon’s Eagle Cap Wilderness.”

I’ve helped many readers plan an unforgettable backpacking trip in the Sawtooths.
Want my help with yours? Find out more here.

Whether you’re a beginner or seasoned backpacker, you’ll learn new tricks for making all of your trips go better in my stories “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be,” “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” and “A Practical Guide to Lightweight and Ultralight Backpacking.” With a paid subscription to The Big Outside, you can read all of those three stories for free; if you don’t have a subscription, you can download the e-book versions of “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” the lightweight and ultralight backpacking guide, and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”

Was this story helpful?
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Backpacking Glacier National Park: What You Need to Know https://thebigoutsideblog.com/backpacking-glacier-national-park-what-you-need-to-know/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/backpacking-glacier-national-park-what-you-need-to-know/#respond Mon, 05 Jan 2026 14:05:38 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=69442 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

I remember my first backpacking trip in Glacier National Park, more than 30 years ago, feeling magical—and a little bit intimidating, which is best illustrated by the fact that I had probably carried bear spray only once before. But I’m pretty sure my girlfriend (now wife) and I did not reserve a backcountry permit months before—we just showed up and got one. (Good luck doing that today.) We did little, if any, research on a route. We encountered some surprises and had what we considered a mostly wonderful adventure.

Today, though, with several multi-day hikes in Glacier under my hipbelt and knowing the park’s terrain, trails, climate, regulations, and permit system well, our uninformed strategy for planning that first, long-ago trip seems both quaint and like a formula that invites frustration and disappointment—especially in this era of much higher numbers of backpackers. Now, I take a very different approach to planning trips there.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


Backpackers hiking the Continental Divide Trail in Glacier National Park.
Backpackers hiking the Piegan Pass Trail in Glacier National Park. Click photo to see all stories about backpacking in Glacier at The Big Outside.

It’s not that planning a backpacking trip in Glacier is unnecessarily complicated. But familiarizing yourself with all that backpacking in Glacier entails—some of which is unique to Glacier—is far more likely to result in the experience that you’re hoping for.

So, what do you need to know about backpacking in Glacier?

This article will answer the biggest questions on how to go about planning and executing what is certainly one of the best of America’s 10 best backpacking trips—including details and tips on obtaining a wilderness permit that can be very hard to get. The information below draws on my several trips backpacking (and dayhiking) there over more than 30 years, including the 10 years I spent as a field editor with Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog.

See “10 Backpacking Trips for Solitude in Glacier National Park” and all stories at this blog about backpacking in Glacier. Most of those stories require a paid subscription to The Big Outside to read in full, including my expert tips and information on planning each hike. See also my expert e-books to two great multi-day hikes in Glacier and other parks, including “The Best Backpacking Trip in Glacier National Park.”

I’ve helped many readers plan backpacking trips in Glacier and many other places, answering all of their questions (and many they didn’t think to ask) and customizing an itinerary ideal for them. See my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you and read hundreds of comments from readers like you who’ve received my custom trip planning.

Click on any photo below to read about that trip. Please share your questions, personal stories, or tips about backpacking in Glacier in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

After Glacier National Park, hike the other nine of
America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips.”

 

A backpacker above Oldman Lake along the Dawson Pass Trail in Glacier National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm high above Oldman Lake along the Dawson Pass Trail in Glacier National Park. Click photo to see all of my e-books describing classic backpacking trips in Glacier and other national parks and wildernesses.

It’s Not as Hard as You May Think

With a few exceptions, Glacier’s trails are well-constructed, well-marked with signs at junctions, and mostly only moderately steep—built at what’s called a “horse grade” because many early visitors to the park traveled the trails on horseback. The topography, with the Continental Divide splicing the park into approximate halves and valleys filled with long, narrow lakes draining both sides of the Divide, allow for an extensive trail network that blends relatively easier hiking with ascents to and descents from passes that, with few exceptions, are not grueling.

A backpacker below Virginia Falls in Glacier National Park.
Mark Fenton below Virginia Falls in Glacier National Park.

Many backpackers who are reasonably fit and carrying packs weighing 25 to 40 pounds—basically, a total weight that doesn’t feel awful to them—will find hiking eight to 10 miles per day moderately difficult in Glacier, and a hiking pace of two mph feasible to maintain.

Also, trails in Glacier, even at the highest passes, remain below 8,000 feet, an elevation that doesn’t cause problems for most people beyond breathing harder when hiking uphill. That and the moderate grades of most trails result in daily elevation gain when backpacking 10 miles or less per day often totaling less than 3,000 feet and sometimes less than 2,000 feet; and 2,500 feet of uphill spread over 10 miles is an average relatively gentle gradient of 250 feet per mile.

Plus, the distribution of the park’s 65 designated backcountry campgrounds often enables planning days under 10 miles.

For those reasons, you may find that backpacking in Glacier is not as hard as on trails in parks with higher actual elevations, steeper trails, and/or greater elevation ranges between valleys and passes.

Water is generally plentiful throughout Glacier’s backcountry, although you may encounter waterless stretches of a few miles (perhaps two hours) or more when crossing passes. That means you almost never have to carry more than one to two liters, or about two to four pounds, of water. But be aware of water sources along your route. See the best water-treatment systems in my review of “Essential Backpacking Gear Accessories” and a menu of all reviews of water filters at The Big Outside.

Get my expert e-books to the best backpacking trip in Glacier
and backpacking the Continental Divide Trail through Glacier.

 

A backpacker hiking the Dawson Pass Trail in Glacier National Park.
Pam Solon backpacking the Dawson Pass Trail in Glacier National Park. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan a backpacking trip in Glacier or any other trip you read about at this blog.

How to Get a Glacier Backcountry Permit

As in most major Western national parks (like Yosemite, Grand Teton, Mount Rainier, and others), Glacier permits are in high demand for dates in July, August, and the first part of September. First key step for success: Know when to reserve a permit. Fortunately, like many other parks, Glacier in recent years instituted a reasonably user-friendly system created to manage enormous demand.

Glacier conducts two early-access backcountry permit lotteries at recreation.gov/permits/4675321, on March 1 for large groups of nine to 12 people and on March 15 for standard groups of one to eight people. Those lotteries provide the best chance of reserving a permit for popular trails and backcountry camps for trips between June 15 and Sept. 30, and all applicants during these 24-hour lottery periods have an equal chance of being selected.

Standard-group lottery winners will get an email from the park wilderness office on March 17 with a date and time between March 21 and April 30 when they can make one permit reservation (or anytime after their time slot). Large-group lottery winners will receive an email on March 3 with instructions for making their permit reservation for one of just five permit reservations the park issues annually for large groups.

Elizabeth Lake in Glacier National Park.
Elizabeth Lake in Glacier National Park. Click photo to see how you can purchase a professionally printed enlargement of this image and many other photos you see at The Big Outside.

General reservations open for all remaining backcountry campsites on May 1, running through Sept. 30.

Glacier makes 70 percent of backcountry campsites available for reservations and 30 percent of campsites for walk-in permits no more than one day in advance during the backpacking season and limits daily hiking distance to 16 miles on reserved permits.

See “How to Get a Permit to Backpack in Glacier National Park.”

As I write in my “10 Tips for Getting a Hard-to-Get National Park Backcountry Permit,” the single most-effective strategy for maximizing your chances of getting a permit for a popular trip during its peak season is to consider at least two starting trailheads and a range of date options.

I’ve helped many readers plan unforgettable backpacking trips in Glacier and elsewhere.
Want my help with yours? Click here now.

 

A backpacker on the Continental Divide Trail in Glacier National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking the Continental Divide Trail in Glacier National Park.

The Peak Season

While lower-elevation trails and backcountry camps in Glacier are often snow-free and open from mid-June into October, the peak backpacking season in Glacier generally begins around mid-July, when higher elevations and passes become mostly snow-free, and the season often extends into September, although the first snowstorm can arrive by early September or even late August.

But the best time for hitting the trails in Glacier is late July through early September, when the Rocky Mountains weather is typically idyllic: sunny days with very moderate temperatures, although afternoon thunderstorms are not uncommon, and comfortably cool nights and mornings.

And an early snowfall occurring before your late-summer trip isn’t necessarily a disaster. Snow from those early-season storms often melts away within a day or two after sunshine returns.

On one September backpacking trip, friends and I enjoyed sunny days with moderate temperatures, cool but not freezing nights, and dry trails—just a few days after a snowstorm hit the park. And we benefited from that storm occurring before our trip because it largely smothered a wildfire that was sending smoke throughout the park.

Planning a backpacking trip? See “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips
and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”

 

Bighorn sheep above the Redgap Pass Trail in Glacier National Park.
Bighorn sheep above the Redgap Pass Trail in Glacier National Park. Click photo to learn about my custom trip planning.

Gear

During summer, given the generally good weather in Glacier and nighttime lows that don’t often drop below 40° F/4° C, you can use lightweight to ultralight gear, including your pack, tent, bag, and footwear. Still, look closely at the forecast and, if necessary, be prepared for heavy rain, particularly in thunderstorms, and possibly freezing temperatures.

Glacier National Park provides bearproof food-hanging systems or food lockers in all backcountry campgrounds, so backpackers do not have to carry a bear canister. See nps.gov/glac/planyourvisit/bears.htm.

Find categorized menus of gear reviews, best-in-category reviews, and buying tips at my Gear Reviews page, and all reviews of ultralight backpacking gear at The Big Outside.

Read all of this story and ALL stories at The Big Outside,
plus get a FREE e-book! Join now!

 

Glenns Lake on the Northern Loop in Glacier National Park.
Glenns Lake on the Northern Loop in Glacier National Park. Click photo for my e-book “The Best Backpacking Trip in Glacier National Park.”

Trailhead Transportation Logistics

Depending on where in the park you’re backpacking and whether you’re hiking a loop or a point-to-point route between different trailheads—especially if those trailheads are far apart—travel logistics can be very easy or complicated.

If your backpacking trip starts or finishes (or both) along the Going-to-the-Sun Road, it’s definitely easiest and most convenient to use the park’s free shuttle, which makes several stops along that road. It’s truly much easier—and cheaper—than trying to drive your own vehicle. It runs regularly from early July through Labor Day; see nps.gov/glac/planyourvisit/shuttles.htm.

In recent years, Glacier has required timed vehicle reservations to drive a private vehicle from mid-June through late September in two areas: the west side of Going-to-the-Sun Road and the North Fork. See nps.gov/glac/planyourvisit/vehicle-reservations.htm.

See my expert e-books to two great multi-day hikes in Glacier, “The 10 Best National Park Backpacking Trips,” and the All Trips page at The Big Outside.

Let The Big Outside help you find the best adventures.
Click here to join now for full access to ALL stories and get a free e-book!

Whether you’re a beginner or seasoned backpacker, you’ll learn new tricks for making all of your trips go better in my stories “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” “A Practical Guide to Lightweight and Ultralight Backpacking,” and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.” With a paid subscription to The Big Outside, you can read all of those stories for free; if you don’t have a subscription, you can download the e-book versions of “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” the lightweight and ultralight backpacking guide, and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”

These articles at The Big Outside may be useful when planning a Glacier trip:

8 Pro Tips For Avoiding Blisters
How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be
12 Expert Tips for Finding Solitude When Backpacking
How to Plan Food for a Backpacking Trip
How to Prevent Hypothermia While Hiking and Backpacking
10 Pro Tips For Staying Warm in a Sleeping Bag
5 Tips For Staying Warm and Dry While Hiking

And see all stories with expert backpacking tips at The Big Outside.

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How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips https://thebigoutsideblog.com/12-expert-tips-for-planning-a-wilderness-backpacking-trip/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/12-expert-tips-for-planning-a-wilderness-backpacking-trip/#comments Tue, 30 Dec 2025 10:00:21 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=38932 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Wilderness backpacking opens new worlds to us. While dayhiking can bring you to many beautiful places in nature, walking for days through the backcountry, carrying all you need on your back, inspires a liberating sense of self-sufficiency and solitude as you escape the crowds to explore places most people never see. This article lays out in 12 detailed steps all you need to know to plan a wilderness backpacking trip that’s safe and enjoyable for everyone on it.

More than three decades (and counting) and thousands of miles of backpacking all over the United States and around the world have convinced me that most of the success of any backpacking trip depends on how you plan and prepare for it. Whether you’re a beginner or seasoned backpacker, you’ll learn new tricks for planning a backpacking trip of any length from this article, which draws from the 10 years I spent as Northwest Editor of Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A backpacker on the Teton Crest Trail in the North Fork Cascade Canyon, Grand Teton National Park.
David Gordon backpacking the Teton Crest Trail in the North Fork Cascade Canyon, Grand Teton National Park. Click photo to see my expert e-books to backpacking the Teton Crest Trail and classic trips in Yosemite, Grand Canyon, and other parks.

Having made just about all the backpacking mistakes you can make when I was a newbie years ago and read about countless accidents, I will tell you this: “Epics” and accidents often result from bad planning or a simple lack of awareness of potential problems and hazards. Most are entirely avoidable.

I’d love to read what you think of my tips or any tricks of your own that help you plan your trips. Please share them in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

Click on any photo to learn more about that trip.

A backpacker hiking the Continental Divide Trail above Pitamakan Lake in Glacier National Park.
Pam Solon backpacking the Continental Divide Trail above Pitamakan Lake in Glacier National Park. Click photo to see all stories about backpacking in Glacier at The Big Outside.

1. Pick the Place

Where do you want to go backpacking? That’s the first question to consider, and the answer often draws inspiration from a specific destination. Like many novice backpackers, one of my first trips was in Yosemite (and my most popular e-book is “The Best First Backpacking Trip in Yosemite”).

But new backpackers commonly commit the error of choosing a destination for their fixed vacation dates without considering the many factors that determine not only the ideal time of year for that trip, but also when you cannot take it. For example, many mountain ranges are inaccessible (without advanced skills and technical gear) for most of the year because of deep snow—trails may not become passable for hiking until June or July. Many also consistently receive a lot of rain and have thick clouds of mosquitoes at certain times of year, either of which can put a real damper on the experience.

Flip that flawed thinking around: Choose dates appropriate for your desired trip, or if your dates are not flexible, choose a trip appropriate for your dates. Do some research on the most special aspects of a destination and what times of year are best to see them, such as wildflowers, waterfalls, foliage color, or simply better weather.

See my story “How to Decide Where to Go Backpacking.”

Find ideas for your backpacking adventures at my Trips Page.

Backpackers on the South Kaibab Trail in the Grand Canyon.
Backpackers on the South Kaibab Trail in the Grand Canyon. Click photo for a menu of stories about backpacking in the Grand Canyon.

2. Plan Ahead

I can’t remember the last backpacking or hiking trip I took without planning weeks or months in advance. Some destinations—particularly close to home, if they don’t require a permit reservation—may not require much advance planning. But the more complicated your life, the less likely you can pull off a last-minute getaway that entails multiple logistics and people.

Plan and make all needed pre-trip arrangements, from reserving any required backcountry permit to arranging any needed transportation and lodging.

Backpackers in Moraine Park on the Wonderland Trail, Mount Rainier National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm and Todd Arndt in Moraine Park on the Wonderland Trail, Mount Rainier National Park. Click photo to read about the Wonderland Trail.

Find planning resources (like my expert e-books and Custom Trip Planning) with detailed information about your trip, including:

• When and how to apply for a backcountry permit if one is required—which is months in advance of your trip dates for popular parks like Grand Teton, Yosemite, Mount Rainier, Glacier, and Grand Canyon. See my “10 Tips for Getting a Hard-to-Get National Park Backcountry Permit.”
• Topographical trail maps and a good description of your route, including section distances, difficulty, and details about any sections that require special skills or a comfort level with scrambling, exposure, water crossings, or other challenges and potential environmental hazards.
• Current trail and road conditions and seasonal or temporary closures due to unmaintained roads, wildfire, washouts, or other causes (often available at a park’s website).
• Travel logistics.
• Important regulations such as backcountry camping and party-size restrictions.
• Seasonal recommendations or restrictions.
• Seasonal climate and weather information.
• Water sources: If they are limited, know where they are and how much water you have to leave each source carrying—including whether you’ll need extra water if your next campsite lacks water.
• Wildlife concerns (more below).

Find your next adventure in your Inbox. Sign up now for my FREE email newsletter.

A backpacker hiking the John Muir Trail above Helen Lake in Kings Canyon N.P., High Sierra.
Marco Garofalo backpacking the John Muir Trail above Helen Lake in Kings Canyon N.P. Click photo to see all stories about the JMT at this blog.

3. Choose a Route That’s Right for Everyone

Whether a family, your favorite person, or a group of friends, the group’s pace and some choices will inevitably be dictated by the slowest and least-comfortable person—who may be a child or an adult. If your trip plan isn’t designed with that person in mind, you will likely have problems.

I typically plan trips following one of these two strategies, and they usually—by intentional design for the benefit of everyone—result in very different experiences:

  1. If the trip involves a specific, challenging adventure—climbing a mountain or backpacking a challenging route, for instance—choose partners who have the physical stamina, skills, and comfort level for everything you will encounter.
  2. If the trip’s goal is a fun adventure for a specific group of people—your family or any mix of people with a range of experience, stamina, and abilities—choose a destination and plan an itinerary that’s going to be enjoyable for everyone, including the slowest, least-experienced members of the group.

Click here now to plan your next great backpacking adventure using my expert e-books.

Teenage boys backpacking to the Baron Lakes in Idaho's Sawtooth Mountains.
My son, Nate, and two buddies, all age 15, backpacking to the Baron Lakes in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains. Click photo for a menu of stories about the Sawtooths.

Choose a destination and daily hiking distances that everyone can handle—keeping in mind that the cumulative elevation gain and loss affects the difficulty at least as much as the distance. (See my expert tips in my story “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”) Consider how trail quality and conditions—whether it’s extremely rocky or muddy or steep—or places with difficult scrambling or significant exposure will affect everyone in the group, weighing both their emotional comfort and their safety.

Whether it’s family or friends, to avoid the pitfalls that can arise related to tip no. 3, get everyone’s buy-in by involving them in the planning.

Plan a trip that’s appropriate for everyone in your group and you’ll all enjoy it more.

See my Custom Trip Planning page to tap into my experience planning your next trip.

Backpackers in the narrows of Paria Canyon.
Backpackers in the narrows of Paria Canyon.

4. Craft a Sensible Itinerary

Create an itinerary that’s appropriate for the time you have—trying to cram too much into too short a timeframe can force you to overextend yourself and compromise everyone’s enjoyment.

Avoid these mistakes:

• Squeezing your travel time so tightly that your entire trip could be ruined by a delayed flight or bad traffic. When traveling to remote locations, taking multiple flights (especially in winter, when delays due to bad weather are not uncommon), plan for delays.
• An itinerary that entails hiking more miles each day than is right for your group.
• Travel plans that deprive everyone of adequate sleep. When traveling across several time zones, expect to need sleep when you arrive at your destination.

Trips and travel don’t always go well. But few travel-related incidents feel more disappointing than the clearly avoidable ones that ruin a trip.

5. Talk to Someone Who’s Done It

Even after decades of hiking, backpacking, climbing, skiing, and paddling, I always try to tap into the knowledge base of someone who’s either done the specific trip I’m planning or something similar or in the same park or general area.

Every time I do that, I learn something unexpected.

That person could be someone you know, or any number of people with experience on the hike you’re planning: a backcountry ranger, a member of a hiking club, or an employee at a local outdoor-gear shop or another business near the destination. Ask questions and you’ll often get useful answers.

Read all of this story and ALL stories at The Big Outside, plus get a FREE e-book. Join now!

Not ready to join yet? Click here now to buy my expert e-book version of this entire story.

A backpacker just north of Jackass Pass in the Cirque of the Towers. in Wyoming's Wind River Range.
Chip Roser just north of Jackass Pass in the Cirque of the Towers. in Wyoming’s Wind River Range.

6. Have Gear That Works

Many of us get by with more-affordable gear when we’re starting out. But it still should meet a minimum threshold of functionality: It must perform well enough not only to survive more than one trip—otherwise, you’ve wasted your money—but to ensure against an unpleasant or even dangerous experience. An uncomfortable backpack can morph into a despised object. Inadequate or poorly fitting boots or a sleeping bag lacking sufficient warmth might make your trip a misery. A tent that fails poses real risks. You get the idea.

Are you taking a first trip with new gear—or your first-ever backpacking trip? Don’t head out for several days without giving new gear a test drive:

• Walk around in new boots, even on short, local hikes or around town, to make sure they’re not going to cause blisters, that they feel good—adequately supportive, not too hot—and to help break them in if needed. See my “8 Pro Tips for Preventing Blisters When Hiking.”
• Pitch a new tent in your yard to familiarize yourself with it, just in case strong wind or steady rain greet you the first time you pitch it in the backcountry.
• Assemble all of your gear and food for the trip at home and load your pack the day before you depart, to get a sense of how best to organize everything in your pack and how it’s going to feel on your back once loaded. See my “Video: How to Pack a Backpack” and “An Essentials-Only Backpacking Gear Checklist.”

Time for a better backpack? See “The 10 Best Backpacking Packs
and the best ultralight backpacks.

A backpacker at Park Creek Pass, North Cascades National Park.
Todd Arndt at Park Creek Pass, North Cascades National Park. Click photo to read about this trip.

Tip: Loading your pack pre-trip helps you see whether you’re overpacking. See “A Practical Guide to Lightweight and Ultralight Backpacking.”

See my expert gear-buying tips in these stories:

The 12 Best Down Jackets
5 Expert Tips For Buying the Right Backpacking Pack
5 Expert Tips For Buying a Backpacking Tent
How to Choose the Best Ultralight Backpacking Tent for You
5 Expert Tips For Buying a Rain Jacket For Hiking
Expert Tips For Buying the Right Hiking Boots
Pro Tips For Buying Sleeping Bags

And don’t miss my “10 Tips For Spending Less on Hiking and Backpacking Gear.”

Get the right tent for you. See “The 10 Best Backpacking Tents
and “5 Expert Tips For Buying a Backpacking Tent.”

A backpacker below Virginia Falls in Glacier National Park.
Mark Fenton below Virginia Falls in Glacier National Park. Click photo to see my e-books to backpacking in Glacier and other classic trips.

7. Bring Clothing Layers for the Expected Weather

If the best weather forecast for the area where you’re backpacking provides conditions for the valleys, know that it will likely be at least 10 to 20 degrees Fahrenheit cooler in the mountains where you’re hiking. On average, the air temperature drops three to four degrees Fahrenheit for every thousand feet of elevation gain (or about 10 degrees Celsius for every 1,000 meters). The sun gets more intense at higher elevations, too, which means it feels warmer when the sun is out, but also cools off quickly when the sun sets or disappears behind clouds.

See my reviews of:

The Best Rain Jackets for Hiking and Backpacking
The 12 Best Down Jackets
The Best Base Layers, Shorts, and Socks For Hiking and Running

Read all of this story and ALL stories at The Big Outside,
plus get a FREE e-book! Join now!

Backpackers hiking over Clouds Rest in Yosemite National Park.
Backpackers hiking over Clouds Rest in Yosemite National Park. Click photo for my expert e-book “The Best First Backpacking Trip in Yosemite.”

8. Don’t Overpack Food

This may seem counterintuitive, but the fact is that for the vast majority of backpacking trips, whether for a weekend or a week or more, we plan a specific number of days and finish when expected. These trips don’t generally turn into survival epics. A pound or two of extra food or snacks is prudent; you don’t need to carry several pounds more food than you intend to eat.

Over more than three decades of backpacking, I’ve underestimated how much food I needed only a few times. Like probably most backpackers, at least when we’re relative novices, I have far more often carried an unneeded surplus of food the entire length of a hike.


Are you a fan of the beautiful photos you see at The Big Outside? Click here now to get professional-quality prints of this blog’s most inspiring images!


A backpacker hiking west from Porcupine Pass on the Uinta Highline Trail, High Uintas Wilderness, Utah.
My son, Nate, backpacking west from Porcupine Pass on the Uinta Highline Trail, High Uintas Wilderness, Utah. Click photo to read about this trip.

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10 Tips For Getting a Hard-to-Get National Park Backcountry Permit https://thebigoutsideblog.com/10-tips-for-getting-a-hard-to-get-national-park-backcountry-permit/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/10-tips-for-getting-a-hard-to-get-national-park-backcountry-permit/#comments Fri, 26 Dec 2025 10:00:49 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=11376 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Backpackers planning a trip in popular national parks like Yosemite, Grand Teton, Glacier, Zion, Grand Canyon, Mount Rainier, Rocky Mountain, Great Smoky Mountains, and others have one experience in common: A high percentage of them fail in their attempt to reserve a backcountry permit—and many probably don’t fully understand why. This story will answer your questions about how and when to reserve a backcountry permit in many parks—most of which have their own, unique reservation process and dates to make a reservation. And this story will share my expert tips on maximizing your chances of success.

Countless backpacking trips over more than three decades—during which I was the Northwest Editor of Backpacker magazine for 10 years and have now run this blog for even longer—have taught me many tricks for landing coveted permits in flagship parks, which receive far more requests than they can fill. The strategies and knowledge of these permit processes outlined below will help you land a hard-to-get national park backcountry permit—just as they have worked countless times for me.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A backpacker hiking over Yosemite's Clouds Rest, with Yosemite Valley in the distance.
Mark Fenton backpacking over Yosemite’s Clouds Rest, with Yosemite Valley in the distance. Click photo for my expert e-book “The Best First Backpacking Trip in Yosemite.”

Just in the past several years, using these strategies, I’ve gotten permits for backpacking trips on three hugely popular trails, the Wonderland Trail around Mount Rainier, a long section of the John Muir Trail, and the Teton Crest Trail (a trip I’ve taken multiple times), as well as in Yellowstone, Glacier three times (this trip and this one, with one canceled due to wildfires), the Maze District of Canyonlands (and before that, the Needles District), North Cascades, two popular trips in Canadian Rockies national parks (this one and this one), Yosemite three times (this trip, this one and this one), and Grand Canyon six times (for trips in 2025, 2024, 2022, 2019, 2018, and 2015)—and I’ve had just two unsuccessful reservation attempts, a previous one for the Wonderland Trail (under the park’s old permit system; the new one is better, although still extremely competitive) and one for Glacier in 2021 that was rejected for reasons I anticipated and explain in tip no. 3 (below).

And if you want to take a trip in one of those popular parks this year, the time for reserving permits is now or coming up soon.

A backpacker overlooking the Colorado River on the Tonto Trail east of Bass Canyon, along the Gems Route in the Grand Canyon.
David Ports overlooking the Colorado River while backpacking the Tonto Trail east of Bass Canyon, along the Gems Route in the Grand Canyon. Click photo to get my personally customized backpacking trip planning.

A friendly warning: Don’t backpack without a permit. Backcountry rangers might issue you a citation for camping without a permit, which could involve a fine and a court appearance. The more immediate problem with lacking a permit for where you’re trying to camp is that all established campsites there could be occupied, leaving you no option but camping illegally in a potentially uncomfortable spot and causing damage to a sensitive area. That’s not cool and it’s not fun.

When you’re frustrated over being denied a permit for the hike you really wanted to take, keep this in mind: The permit system in parks imposes quotas on the number of backpackers in order to protect the landscape from overuse and give all of us an uncrowded, better wilderness experience. Compare the experience in many parks with places you’ve been that have no permit system and are overcrowded and visibly over-used, and you’ll realize: Permits are a good thing.

Plus, if you take a little time to understand how permit processes work, they become less daunting and you may have more success with them—and enjoy adventures of a lifetime.

Please share what you think of my tips or your own tips or questions in the comments section at the bottom of this story and please share this story with anyone who might benefit from it. I try to respond to all comments and questions. Click on any photo or link below to read about that park or trip.

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A backpacker in The Narrows in Zion National Park.
David Gordon backpacking The Narrows in Zion National Park. Click photo for my e-book “The Complete Guide to Backpacking The Narrows in Zion National Park.”

#1 Do Your Homework

Research your route in advance. Know where you want to go and how far you intend to hike each day. Keep in mind that your party’s speed will be determined by the slowest person, and factors like the terrain’s ruggedness, total elevation gain and loss on your route, and whether it’s at high elevations. (See the expert tips in my story “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”) Plan daily distances and pick campsites that make sense for your group, to minimize the likelihood of not reaching one and camping illegally.

See my stories “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips” and “How to Decide Where to Go Backpacking.”

See also my expert e-books to backpacking trips in several popular national parks for detailed hiking itineraries, expert planning advice, on-the-ground knowledge, and tips specific to getting a permit in those parks.

Don’t have the time or expertise to plan it yourself? Want to make sure your trip is as good as it can be? Visit my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you plan your next great adventure and see hundreds of comments from readers like you who’ve received my custom trip planning.

Insider Tip

I have called or emailed backcountry rangers with questions many times, even at popular parks, and received prompt responses. If you’ve done your research and know the park—and have good experience, especially in that park—I have found that a backcountry ranger will more readily point you toward route options that they might not suggest to a novice. Don’t hesitate to talk about your experience.

Backpackers in Moraine Park on the Wonderland Trail, Mount Rainier National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm and Todd Arndt in Moraine Park on the Wonderland Trail, Mount Rainier National Park. Click photo for my expert Wonderland Trail e-book.

#2 Know When to Apply

Check the park’s website (or, for most national parks, recreation.gov) months in advance of the trip dates you’re planning to learn about the timing and procedure for reserving a backcountry permit, which varies from park to park.

In some parks, to have any chance of reserving a permit, you must be ready at the very minute that reservations open—especially for popular hikes in parks that attract a lot of backpackers (like most parks and trails mentioned in this story).

Fortunately, most parks have now abandoned antiquated apply-only-in-person and apply-by-fax-machine permit systems and moved to online permit reservations operated through recreation.gov, a positive step forward in an era when demand for backcountry permits is skyrocketing in many places.

Still, while many are easy to navigate, a few are unnecessarily chaotic and frustrating for users in ways that seem clearly avoidable, given the numerous examples within the National Park System of successful park permit systems that work smoothly. The NPS is making progress but could still do much better.

Insider Tip

Use a shotgun: Try for permit reservations in multiple parks for a range of potential dates, hoping that at least one is successful. You can always cancel any you can’t use and usually get virtually all of the cost refunded. In parks that conduct early-access permit lotteries, have everyone in your group enter the lottery.

A backpacker on the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park.
David Gordon backpacking the Teton Crest Trail. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan this or any trip you read about at my blog.

When to Reserve a Backcountry Permit in These Major Parks

•    In Grand Teton, for trips between May 1 and Oct. 31, permit reservations can be made at recreation.gov/permits/249986 starting at 8 a.m. Mountain Time on Jan. 7, 2026, and up to two days before your trip start date. But popular backcountry camping zones, like those along the Teton Crest Trail, get booked up very quickly after reservations open—often within minutes in a process that can be chaotic. The park allows one-third of available permits to be reserved in advance, leaving two-thirds available first-come, for walk-in backpackers, no more than one day before your trip begins. See my expert e-books to the Teton Crest Trail and the best short backpacking trip in the Tetons, and my Custom Trip Planning page to see how I can help you plan that trip, as well as my stories “How to Get a Permit to Backpack the Teton Crest Trail” and “How to Backpack the Teton Crest Trail Without a Permit.” There is a $20 non-refundable fee if you obtain a permit plus $7 per person per night. Find more information at nps.gov/grte/planyourvisit/bcres.htm.

•    In Yosemite, wilderness permit reservations are issued based on trailhead quotas, with special rules for backpacking the John Muir Trail. Sixty percent of permit reservations are available by lottery at recreation.gov/permits/445859 beginning at 12:01 a.m. Pacific Time on the Sunday up to 24 weeks (168 days) in advance of the date you want to start hiking, with the lottery for each specific window of dates closing at 11:59 p.m. the following Saturday. For example, to start a trip between Aug. 9-15, 2026, enter the lottery between Feb. 15 and Feb. 21. The remaining 40 percent of permits are made available at recreation.gov at 7 a.m. Pacific Time up to seven days in advance of a trip start date. The non-refundable permit fee is $10 for each lottery entered or a walk-in permit plus $5 per person if you get a permit. Permits issued by other national parks or forests in the Sierra for trips extending into Yosemite—for example, a John Muir Trail permit (see info below)—are valid in Yosemite for the permit dates. See my expert e-books to three stellar, multi-day hikes in Yosemite, including “The Best First Backpacking Trip in Yosemite,” and my stories “How to Get a Yosemite or High Sierra Wilderness Permit” and “How to Get a Last-Minute Yosemite Wilderness Permit Now.” Find more info at nps.gov/yose/planyourvisit/wildpermits.htm.

Start planning now to take one of “The 10 Best National Park Backpacking Trips.”

A backpacker hiking the John Muir Trail above Helen Lake in Kings Canyon N.P., High Sierra.
Marco Garofalo backpacking the John Muir Trail above Helen Lake in Kings Canyon N.P. Click photo to read all stories about backpacking the John Muir Trail at this blog.

•    To thru-hike the John Muir Trail southbound, enter the Yosemite National Park lottery at recreation.gov/permits/445859 up to 24 weeks in advance of the date you want to start hiking, with the lottery for each specific window of dates closing at 11:59 p.m. the following Saturday. For example, to start a trip between Aug. 9-15, 2026, enter the lottery between Feb. 15 and Feb. 21. See nps.gov/yose/planyourvisit/jmt.htm. Permits for hiking northbound, starting at Whitney Portal, are reserved through a lottery system at recreation.gov; enter it between Feb. 1 and March 1, with results announced March 15. To start a JMT section hike (or any hike) in the Inyo National Forest between May 1 and Nov. 1, apply at recreation.gov at 7 a.m. Pacific Time six months in advance, or up to two weeks in advance for a walk-up permit. See my stories “How to Get a John Muir Trail Wilderness Permit in 2026” and “10 Great John Muir Trail Section Hikes” and all stories about backpacking the JMT at The Big Outside. Visit my Custom Trip Planning page to see how I can help you plan a successful and unforgettable JMT thru-hike or section hike or any other trip (as I’ve done for many other readers).

•    Since the beginning of 2024, Grand Canyon has issued about 80 percent of backcountry permits through a monthly, early-access lottery at recreation.gov/permits/4675337. Apply for the lottery anytime during a two-week period that ends on the first of the month four months in advance of the month you’d like to hike—for example, between Nov. 16 and Dec. 1 for a trip anytime in April and between May 16 and June 1 for October. The lottery awards up to 750 applicants a date and time between the 4th and 17th of the following month when they can attempt to reserve a backcountry permit. The park expects that most of those 750 applicants will get a permit. The fee is $10 per permit plus $15 per person or stock animal per night. The park holds about 20 percent of backcountry campsites for walk-in permits and issues a limited number of permits for the popular Bright Angel and North and South Kaibab corridor trails; that often involves waiting at least a day. See much more detail in “How to Get a Permit to Backpack in the Grand Canyon” and my e-books “The Best First Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon” and “The Best Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon.” Find more info at nps.gov/grca/planyourvisit/backcountry-permit.htm.

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Morning Eagle Falls and backpackers on the Piegan Pass Trail in Glacier National Park.
Backpackers on the Piegan Pass Trail in Glacier National Park. Click photo for my expert e-book to this trip.

•    Glacier conducts two early-access backcountry permit lotteries at recreation.gov/permits/4675321, on March 1 for large groups of nine to 12 people and on March 15 for standard groups of one to eight people. Those lotteries provide the best chance of securing a permit for popular trails and backcountry camps for trips between June 15 and Sept. 30, and all applicants during these 24-hour lottery periods will have an equal chance of being selected. Successful large-group lottery entrants will receive an email from park wilderness permit staff on March 3 with instructions for making their permit reservation for one of just five permit reservations the park issues annually for large groups. Standard group lottery winners will get an email on March 17 with a date and time between March 21 and April 30, 2025, when they can apply for one permit reservation (or anytime after their time slot). General reservations open for all remaining backcountry campsites on May 1, running through Sept. 30. Glacier makes 70 percent of backcountry campsites available for reservations and 30 percent of campsites available for walk-in permits no more than one day in advance during the backpacking season and limits daily hiking distance to 16 miles on reserved permits. There is a non-refundable $10 fee for a lottery application plus $7 per person per night that’s refundable if canceled more than seven days prior to the trip start date. See “How to Get a Permit to Backpack in Glacier National Park” and my expert e-books “The Best Backpacking Trip in Glacier National Park” and “Backpacking the Continental Divide Trail Through Glacier National Park.” Find more information at nps.gov/glac/planyourvisit/backcountry-reservations.htm.

•   In Zion, backpacking permit reservations can be made at recreation.gov/permits/4675338 for trips in Zion’s wilderness, except for overnight trips through Zion’s Narrows, for which reservations are made at recreation.gov/permits/4675339, both on this schedule: March 5 at 10 a.m. Mountain Time for trips between April 1 and June 30; June 5 at 10 a.m. for July 1 to Sept. 30; Sept. 5 at 10 a.m. for Oct. 1 to Dec. 31; and Dec. 5 at 10 a.m. for Jan. 1 to March 31. Half of the backcountry campsites in Zion can be reserved—and usually get filled within minutes after becoming available—and half are available for walk-in permits, obtained in person no more than one day in advance. Max group size is 12. There is a non-refundable $20 fee for a permit and a refundable cost of $7 per person per night. See my story about backpacking the Narrows and my expert e-book “The Complete Guide to Backpacking The Narrows in Zion National Park.” Find more information at nps.gov/zion/planyourvisit/backpackinginfo.htm.

Want my highly detailed, personally customized planning for any trip on this list?
Click here for expert advice you won’t get anywhere else.

Backpackers on the High Sierra Trail above the Middle Fork Kaweah River in Sequoia National Park.
Backpackers on the High Sierra Trail above the Middle Fork Kaweah River in Sequoia National Park.

•    For Sequoia and Kings Canyon, reserve a permit at recreation.gov/permits/445857 starting at 7 a.m. Pacific Time up to six months in advance for a trip taking place during the trailhead quota period, which for 2026, is May 22 to Sept. 26. Permits are issued based on trailhead quotas and can be made up to one week in advance—although availability for popular trailheads gets booked up quickly. The park keeps a portion of each trailhead quota available for backpackers seeking a first-come permit (without a reservation) no more than a day in advance. There’s a non-refundable fee of $15 plus $5 per person (refundable if canceled) for each confirmed permit. Permits issued by other national parks or forests in the Sierra for trips extending into Sequoia or Kings Canyon—for example, a John Muir Trail or Mount Whitney permit—are valid in these parks for the permit dates. See “How to Get a Yosemite or High Sierra Wilderness Permit.”

•  Mount Rainier issues permit reservations at recreation.gov/permits/4675317 for two-thirds of backcountry campsites for trips from May 1 through Oct. 11, 2026, up to two days before a trip starts. The park holds an optional Early Access Lottery for preferential time slots to reserve a permit, greatly improving chances of getting a permit for the Wonderland Trail and popular climbing routes. Enter the lottery anytime between when it opens at 7 a.m. Pacific Time on Feb. 10, 2026, through when it closes at 7 p.m. Pacific on March 3, 2026. Lottery participants will be notified of results on March 14 and winners will receive a date and time on or after March 21 to make a multi-night permit reservation competing against a limited number of other applicants. General reservations for all permit applicants open at 7 a.m. Pacific Time on April 25. The maximum party size is five people and three tents for standard campsites and parties of six to 12 must use designated group camps. There is a non-refundable, $6 fee for an early-access lottery application or permit reservation and a fee of $10 per person per night for a permit reservation. One-third of available permits are issued first-come, in person at a park wilderness center, up to one day before starting a trip. See “How to Get a Permit to Backpack Rainier’s Wonderland Trail.” Find more information at nps.gov/mora/planyourvisit/wilderness-permit.htm and and more about the Early Access Lottery at recreationonestopprod.servicenowservices.com.

Pack Smartly. See “An Essentials-Only Backpacking Gear Checklist.”

Colonnade Falls on the Bechler River in Yellowstone National Park.
Colonnade Falls on the Bechler River in Yellowstone National Park.

•    Yellowstone accepts reservations for backcountry permits during the peak backpacking season, May 15 through Oct. 31, at recreation.gov/permits/4675323. For the best chance of getting a permit for a popular backpacking trip like Bechler Canyon, enter the Early Access Lottery, which runs from 8 a.m. Mountain Time on March 1 through 11:59 p.m. on March 20. Lottery participants are notified of results on March 25 and winners will receive a date and time between April 1-24 when they can reserve a multi-night backcountry itinerary competing against a limited number of other applicants. General reservations open at 8 a.m. Mountain Time on April 26. There’s a $10, non-refundable fee for entering the Early Access Lottery and a non-refundable $10 fee for a reservation (not charged if you’ve already paid the lottery fee), plus a refundable backcountry camping fee of $5 per person per night. About 75 percent of designated backcountry campsites can be reserved and the remaining sites are available for walk-up permits issued from May through October at park backcountry offices no more than two days in advance of a trip. Maximum group size ranges from four to 12 people at backcountry campsites. See nps.gov/yell/planyourvisit/backcountryhiking.htm and the park’s Backcountry Trip Planner at yellowstone.co/pdfs/bctripplanner.pdf.

•    In Great Smoky Mountains, permit reservations can be made starting at midnight Eastern Time up to 30 days in advance of a trip’s start date at smokiespermits.nps.gov. There is a non-refundable fee of $8 per person per night with a maximum of $40 per person and seven nights. Maximum party size is eight, but some sites have a lower total capacity. Find more information and the permit reservation form at smokiespermits.nps.gov. Reservations and permits can also be obtained in person at the Backcountry Office at Sugarlands Visitor Center.  See the park website’s Backcountry Camping—Backpacking page at nps.gov/grsm/planyourvisit/backcountry-camping.htm.

Planning a backpacking trip? See “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips
and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”

 

Young kids backpacking over the Big Spring Canyon-Squaw Canyon pass in the Needles District, Canyonlands National Park.
Our kids backpacking over the Big Spring Canyon-Squaw Canyon pass in the Needles District, Canyonlands National Park.

•    For Canyonlands, including backpacking in the Needles District, Island in the Sky District, and Maze District and multi-day float trips on the Green River, permit reservations open at recreation.gov/permits/4675315 at 8 a.m. Mountain Time on Nov. 10 for a trip beginning between March 10 and June 9, on Feb. 10 for a trip between June 10 and Sept. 9, on May 10 for a trip between Sept. 10 and Dec. 9, and Aug. 10 for a trip between Dec. 10 and March 9 in the Island or Maze or from Feb. 13 to March 9 in the Needles. Reservations close three days before a trip start date, but you can get a permit in person closer to your start date at locations in the park and in Moab listed at recreation.gov/permits/4675315. Backpacking party size limits are seven in the Needles and Island in the Sky districts and five in The Maze. There’s a non-refundable $36 permit fee plus a refundable fee of $5 per person per night. Find more information at nps.gov/cany/planyourvisit/backcountrypermits.htm.

•    Rocky Mountain opens permit reservations at 8 a.m. Mountain Time on March 1 at recreation.gov/permits/4675320 for camping in the backcountry between May 1 and Oct. 31, for a maximum of seven nights. Reservations are accepted up to three days prior to a trip. Permits are issued based on quotas for designated individual backcountry campsites that accommodate parties up to seven people or group sites for parties of eight to 12 people. Unlike other parks, Rocky doesn’t hold a fixed percentage of backcountry sites for walk-ins; instead, most backcountry permits are reservable, and only a limited number of permits will be available at recreation.gov/permits/4675320 during the peak summer season. The total reservation fee is $36. Find more information at nps.gov/romo/planyourvisit/wild_guide.htm.

Plan your next great backpacking adventure using my expert e-books.
Click here now to learn more.

A backpacker in the Bailey Range, Olympic National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking in the Bailey Range, Olympic National Park.

• At Olympic, permit reservations can be made at recreation.gov/permits/4098362 starting at 7 a.m. Pacific Time on April 15 for trips from May 15 through Oct. 15, except in areas under seasonal closures: Backpacking permits are issued for Glacier Meadows/Elk Lake, Grand Valley, Royal Basin, Lake Constance, Upper Lena Lake, and Flapjack Lakes only from June 15 to Oct. 15, and for the Seven Lakes Basin/High Divide area only from July 15 to Oct. 15. Group size limits are 12 people and lower in some camp areas. Permits listed as walk-up can only be obtained by contacting the Wilderness Information Center. The permit fee is $6 per reservation plus a refundable $8 per person age 16 and older per night. Find more information at nps.gov/olym/planyourvisit/wilderness-reservations.htm and nps.gov/olym/planyourvisit/upload/OLYM-Wilderness-Trip-Planner.jpg

North Cascades accepts permit reservations at recreation.gov/permits/4675322 for backcountry camping from May 16 through Oct. 11 for up to 60 percent of backcountry campsites, while permits for the other 40 percent of backcountry campsites are issued walk-in/first-come no more than one day in advance. For the best chances of getting a permit that includes popular camps, enter the Early-Access Lottery anytime between March 2, 2026, and 9 p.m. Pacific Time on March 13, for the chance to win a timeslot between March 24 and 9 p.m. Pacific Time on April 21 to make a permit reservation. General reservations open April 29 at 7 a.m. Pacific Time. The maximum party size for camps varies between four and up 12 people in group sites. There’s a non-refundable $6 fee for the Early-Access Lottery and a refundable $10 fee per person age 16 and older for a permit. Find more information at nps.gov/noca/planyourvisit/permits.htm and in the Wilderness Trip Planner at nps.gov/noca/planyourvisit/wilderness-trip-planner.htm.

Get the right gear for your trips. See “The 10 Best Backpacking Packs
and “The 10 Best Backpacking Tents.”

 

A backpacker near Park Creek Pass in North Cascades National Park.
Todd Arndt backpacking to Park Creek Pass in North Cascades National Park.

•  In Everglades, backcountry permit reservations can be made year-round 90 days in advance of your trip’s start date at recreation.gov/permits/4675314, beginning daily at 10 a.m. Eastern Standard Time. There is a non-refundable $21 reservation fee plus $2 per person per night in the backcountry. The park no longer issues walk-up permits. Quotas exist for each wilderness campsite for number of groups and number of people per site. Find more information at nps.gov/ever/planyourvisit/wildernesscamp.htm.

Insider Tip

For parks like Grand Teton, Olympic, Zion, Rocky Mountain, and Canyonlands that open permit reservations at a specific date and time (i.e., they do not have an early-access lottery or rolling reservations), start your reservation the very minute they begin accepting them. Set up an account in advance at the host website, like recreation.gov, and familiarize yourself with it.

A backpacker on the Tonto Trail above the Colorado River, Grand Canyon.
Mark Fenton on the Tonto Trail in the Grand Canyon. Click photo to see my expert e-book “The Best Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon.”

#3 Have Alternative Itineraries and Dates Ready

If you want to take a popular trip during its peak season, having flexibility with your dates and itinerary is the single most-effective strategy for maximizing your chances of getting a permit.

Since most large, marquis wilderness parks now use recreation.gov or a similar online system that shows backcountry camping availability and processes your reservation in real time, this requires entering the process with a range of possible start dates and routes in mind so that you’re ready to adjust quickly if your first choice isn’t available. That may be as simple as starting a day earlier or later for the same route, reversing your route’s direction, starting midweek instead of on a weekend, or choosing an entirely different route.

A view from the Appalachian Trail in Great Smoky Mountains National Park.
A view from the Appalachian Trail in Great Smoky Mountains National Park.

With a park like Yosemite that conducts a weekly rolling lottery for weeklong date periods rather than processing your reservation in real time, you can improve your chances by indicating that you can start on any date during that week and providing alternative itineraries.

As I mentioned at the top of this story, my permit application for a 2021 trip in Glacier was rejected—and I’m sure it was mainly because I applied for just one specific itinerary that I wanted and our dates were not flexible, which greatly reduced my chances of succeeding. The rejection email the park sent me noted that they received over 2,500 backcountry permit applications just on the first day that it opened, March 15. That was under Glacier’s previous permit system; the park now uses recreation.gov.

Insider Tip

If you’re determined to backpack in a park, make any permit reservation, even if it’s slightly or entirely different from your desired route. When you pick up your permit, ask about altering your itinerary; other campsites may be available due to cancellations and sites held for walk-ins. Ask a backcountry ranger for suggestions.

A backpacker in the Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne River in Yosemite National Park.
Todd Arndt backpacking in the Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne River in Yosemite. Click photo to see all of my expert e-books to backpacking in Yosemite and other parks.

#4 Focus on Less Well-Known Areas of Popular Parks

This piece of time-tested advice is also the first of my “12 Expert Tips for Finding Solitude When Backpacking”—which is worth reading for the appeal of solitude as well as the clear overlap between that goal and the objective of getting a backcountry permit.

And you might be shocked at how much permit demand is concentrated in just a handful of enormously popular trails in national parks that backpackers all want to explore, including, just to name a few, Yosemite, Grand Canyon, Glacier, Great Smoky Mountains, and Mount Rainier.

You might also be pleasantly surprised to find how much incredibly scenic hiking is found in less well-known areas of those parks—and how much solitude you can find.

Below Forester Pass on the John Muir Trail, Sequoia National Park.
Below Forester Pass on the John Muir Trail, Sequoia National Park.

A few examples:

• In Yosemite, about 10 percent of the park’s hundreds of miles of trails—the John Muir Trail from Happy Isles to Donohue Pass and the Sierra High Camps loop—accounts for about 80 percent of all trail use. The Little Yosemite Valley backcountry campground alone accounts for almost 20 percent. Thus, the other 20 percent of all trail use gets distributed over 90 percent of Yosemite’s trails.
• In the Grand Canyon, about 75 percent of applicants seeking a permit for backpacking the three popular corridor trails, Bright Angel and South and North Kaibab, in spring or fall will fail to get a permit. Put differently, there’s about four times more demand for the three backcountry campgrounds on the corridor trails than there is availability.
• In Mount Rainier, close to half of permit seekers want to backpack the Wonderland Trail. The park has campsite capacity to grant about 900 permits annually for the entire Wonderland, while historically three times as many people have sought a permit for the full Wonderland (and that number is likely growing). But those 900 permits represent less than 25 percent of the approximately 4,000 backpacking permits issued annually.
• In Great Smoky Mountains, shelters along the Appalachian Trail are far and away the most popular—and that’s the park’s busiest trail—but backcountry campsites elsewhere in the park are much easier to reserve.

But many backcountry areas even in popular parks see far less demand for permits, such as northern Yosemite and a hike I consider Yosemite’s best-kept secret backpacking trip; numerous trails in Glacier including sections of the Continental Divide Trail; the Grand Canyon’s Escalante Route, Gems Route, Royal Arch Loop, and Clear Creek Trail and Utah Flats Route; Mount Rainier’s Northern Loop; the Maze District in Canyonlands; and a gorgeous swath of the High Sierra in Sequoia National Park, among numerous examples. I even enjoyed solitude on most of a solo, 34-mile loop in the Great Smoky Mountains—during the October peak foliage season.

Go where others don’t.
See “Big Scenery, No Crowds: 12 Top Backpacking Trips For Solitude.”

Hikers on the Chimney Route in the Maze District, Canyonlands National Park.
Pam Solon, Todd Arndt, and Jeff Wilhelm hiking the Chimney Route in the Maze District, Canyonlands National Park.

#5 Think Small

Keeping your party small—at two to four people or even solo—can increase your odds of landing a permit in parks where permit quotas are based on the number of campers in an area each night or departing from each trailhead daily.

Glacier’s backcountry campsites are sized for a party of four people; in a park where it’s already very hard to get a permit, larger parties face much higher hurdles to getting one than a group of four or fewer. In Mount Rainier and the Maze District of Canyonlands, standard parties are limited to five people. In Yosemite, permits are issued according to a maximum quota of hikers starting at each trailhead in the park—and it’s common for quotas at popular trailheads to winnow down to just one, two or three spots available on some dates.

Most parks limit the number of people allowed on one standard permit, often to six to eight; otherwise, it’s considered a group permit, and there may be fewer campsites for large groups.

Insider Tip

While it’s hard to get a permit to dayhike Yosemite’s Half Dome, it’s probably less difficult to add Half Dome to your backpacking permit because many more people attempt to reserve dayhiking permits than backcountry permits. See “Where to Backpack First Time in Yosemite.”

A backpacker above Alaska Basin on the Teton Crest Trail..
David Gordon backpacking into Alaska Basin on the Teton Crest Trail.. Click photo for my expert Teton Crest Trail e-book.

#6 Camp Outside the Park

National parks often border on other public lands, like national forests, where there’s typically no limit on the number of backpackers—which may give you campsite options when sites or camping areas within park boundaries are full on your trip dates. For instance, Alaska Basin, along the Teton Crest Trail, is not within Grand Teton National Park; so if you can’t get a permit to spend a night on Death Canyon Shelf in the park (a gorgeous spot and one of my all-time favorite backcountry campsites), Alaska Basin is a very nice alternative and may fit neatly into an itinerary for which you have the other camping zones you need inside park boundaries.

At other parks, like Yosemite and Sequoia-Kings Canyon, you can start your trip in a national forest wilderness area—which, in the High Sierra, are just as spectacular as the parks—and permits issued by those national forests are valid for continuing a multi-day hike into either park. That may increase your chances of getting a permit to backpack in the park. Keep in mind that advance permit reservations are needed in many of those national forests, too, often made months ahead of your trip dates.

See my stories “How to Get a Permit to Backpack the Teton Crest Trail” and “How to Get a Yosemite or High Sierra Wilderness Permit.”

Hike all of “The 12 Best Backpacking Trips in the Southwest.”

 

Big Spring in The Narrows, Zion National Park.
Big Spring in The Narrows, Zion National Park. Click photo for my expert e-book to backpacking Zion’s Narrows.

#7 Try For a Walk-In Permit

If all else fails, show up at the park at least a couple of hours before the backcountry office opens and try to get a front spot in line for a walk-in, or first-come permit. Parks hold a percentage of permits for walk-in backpackers, issuing those usually no more than a day in advance. The percentage of permits set aside for walk-in backpackers varies greatly between parks. As examples, Grand Teton keeps two-thirds of available campsites for walk-ins, in Yosemite it’s 40 percent, and in Glacier it’s 30 percent of campsites.

Insider Tip

Start a trip from a less-popular trailhead and you might be able to land campsites in more-popular areas later in your trip.

A backpacker hiking Indian Ridge, overlooking Half Dome in Yosemite National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking Indian Ridge, overlooking Half Dome in Yosemite. Click photo to read about “Yosemite’s Best-Kept Secret Backpacking Trip.”

The difficulty of landing a first-come permit varies during the peak hiking seasons. Since Grand Teton sets aside two-thirds of available permits for walk-in backpackers, chances are relatively good, especially if you’re flexible about your itinerary and accept what’s available—and any Tetons hike is great. At Zion, Glacier, Grand Canyon, Denali, and Everglades, you might not score a permit to start that same day, but Grand Canyon has a wait list—get on it.

If you don’t get one of the available permits the first day you show up, you will have to return each morning until you do.

Yosemite makes 40 percent of permits available up to seven days in advance of a trip start date—and that’s the correct way to get a walk-in permit there. The park warns at nps.gov/yose/planyourvisit/wildpermits.htm: “Do not arrive at Yosemite expecting to get a walk-up wilderness permit. While any unreserved permits will be available in person at wilderness centers on the start date of the trip, few, if any, unused permits will be available.”

See my story “How to Get a Last-Minute, National Park Backcountry Permit.”

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A young boy backpacking the Wonderland Trail in Mount Rainier National Park.
My son, Nate, backpacking a section of the Wonderland Trail in Mount Rainier National Park.

#8 Go Outside Peak Season

I’ve always been amazed at how few backpackers there are in the Tetons in September, when, while it could snow, you can more often enjoy perfect weather. In Yosemite and Sequoia-Kings Canyon, at lower elevations in Olympic and North Cascades, and sometimes at Mount Rainier and Rocky Mountain, good hiking weather can extend into October. At Sequoia-Kings Canyon, the quota season for permits ends on the Saturday between Sept. 23 and 29; if you have a good forecast after those dates, you can get a last-minute permit.

A family backpacking Chimney Rock Canyon in Capitol Reef National Park.
My family backpacking Chimney Rock Canyon in Capitol Reef National Park.

I backpacked Zion’s hugely popular Narrows and dayhiked The Subway (which requires a permit that’s hard to get) in early November in very pleasant weather (albeit short days) and low water (a plus); I saw a good forecast and grabbed a permit because there was availability at that time of year, when just a week or two earlier all permits were undoubtedly reserved. Good weather and hiking conditions can also last into late autumn and return by late spring in Great Smoky Mountains.

In mountain parks, the most popular season extends from early or mid-July to mid-September or later. In desert parks like Grand Canyon and Zion, it’s April, May, September, and October. Although summers are too hot for backpacking, watching for a good forecast and going in early spring or late fall means you will have a much easier time getting a permit.


Are you a fan of the beautiful photos you see at The Big Outside? Click here now to get professional-quality prints of this blog’s most inspiring images!


A backpacker at Sahale Glacier Camp in North Cascades National Park.
A backpacker at Sahale Glacier Camp in North Cascades National Park. Click on the photo to see my 25 Favorite Backcountry Campsites.

#9 Go to a Less-Popular Park

Okay, this tip and the next one don’t help you land a permit for a popular hike—but they do offer excellent alternatives if you fail to get that desired permit. National parks that are off the radar of most backpackers are never a disappointment. At two of my favorite Western parks, North Cascades and Capitol Reef, walk-in permits are relatively easy to obtain (although North Cascades does accept reservations for popular areas).

See some of Yosemite’s best scenery on any of “The 12 Best Dayhikes in Yosemite.”

 

Hikers on the Chesler Park Trail, Needles District, Canyonlands National Park, Utah.
Hikers on the Chesler Park Trail, Needles District, Canyonlands National Park.

#10 Dayhike It

When all efforts to secure a permit to camp in the backcountry fail, ask yourself: Is it possible to dayhike all or part of my route or another trail in the same area?

It’s often easier to hike a long distance in one day than it is to carry a heavy backpack a shorter distance. Choose well-maintained, well-graded trails and keep your pack light, and if you have the stamina for it and can average even a reasonable two mph pace over a 10-hour day, you can cover 20 miles.

If I were to add an eleventh tip, it would be this: When your first attempt fails, find another trip to do that year instead, and try again the next year. Wherever you go, the effort to plan and pull off that adventure will pay off.

See the All Trips List and All National Park Trips page at The Big Outside.

See also all stories with my expert tips, including “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” “How to Decide Where to Go Backpacking,” A Practical Guide to Lightweight and Ultralight Backpacking,” and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”

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The 12 Best Backpacking Trips in the Southwest https://thebigoutsideblog.com/the-10-best-backpacking-trips-in-the-southwest/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/the-10-best-backpacking-trips-in-the-southwest/#comments Sat, 20 Dec 2025 10:00:15 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=21800 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

We all love the majesty of mountains. But the vividly colored, sometimes bizarre, often incomprehensible geology of the Southwest canyon country enchants and inspires us in ways that words can only begin to describe. And while you will find very worthy dayhikes and even roadside eye candy in classic parks like Grand Canyon, Zion, and Canyonlands, you really have to put on a backpack and probe more deeply into those parks—and other canyon-country gems you may not know much about—to get a full sense of the scale, details, and hidden mysteries of these mystical landscapes.

Drawing from more than three decades of chasing the best backpacking trips in the Southwest—including the 10 years I spent as a field editor for Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog—I’ve put together this list of my picks for the 12 very best multi-day hikes in America’s Southwest canyon country, from its acknowledged gems to trips you may not have heard of. While I’ve listed the trips in a specific order, I don’t intend that as a quality ranking. They all deserve five stars.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A backpacker at a waterfall on the Deer Creek Trail in the Grand Canyon.
Jeff Wilhelm at a waterfall on the Deer Creek Trail, along the Thunder River-Deer Creek loop in the Grand Canyon.

The descriptions and photos below all link to stories at The Big Outside that have more images and information about these trips (most of which require a paid subscription to read in full)—including detailed tips on planning each one yourself and when to apply for a backcountry permit, which is generally months in advance of a spring or fall trip.

See also “The 5 Southwest Backpacking Trips You Should Do First,” my expert e-books to some of the trips described below, and my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you plan any of these adventures, variations of them, or any trip you read about at The Big Outside.

I’d love to read your thoughts about my list—and your suggestions for trips that belong on it. Please share them in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

Find your next adventure in your Inbox. Sign up for my FREE email newsletter now.

A backpacker standing at Ooh-Ah Point on the Grand Canyon's South Kaibab Trail.
Todd Arndt standing at Ooh-Ah Point on the Grand Canyon’s South Kaibab Trail. Click photo for my e-book “The Best First Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon.”

Rim to Rim Across the Grand Canyon

Bright Angel Creek along the Grand Canyon's North Kaibab Trail.
Bright Angel Creek along the Grand Canyon’s North Kaibab Trail.

Most multi-day hikes, including some of the best, feature stretches of hours at a time that are ordinary. Not the Grand Canyon. With huge physical relief and so little vegetation to obstruct views in this desert environment—except for brief stretches of forest at the South and North rims—there’s never a dull moment as you traverse a cross-section of a chasm stretching 277 miles long and averaging a mile deep and 10 miles across (as the crow flies—hiking distances on winding trails are much greater). It’s undoubtedly one of the most unique and spectacular treks in the world.

Although most trails here are quite rugged—and some routes on the map are not even maintained—the three so-called “corridor” trails, while strenuous, are maintained, don’t present the kind of scary exposure or difficult scrambling found on other trails, and have more frequent water availability. The typically three-day hike crossing from rim to rim (one-way, can be done in either direction) via the South Kaibab and North Kaibab trails is 21 miles with over 10,600 feet of cumulative ascent and descent; via the Bright Angel and North Kaibab, it’s 23.5 miles with over 10,100 feet of cumulative ascent and descent.

See my stories “Fit to be Tired: Hiking the Grand Canyon Rim to Rim in a Day,” “A Grand Ambition, or April Fools? Dayhiking the Grand Canyon Rim to Rim to Rim,” and all stories about South Rim backpacking trips at The Big Outside.

Do this trip right. Get my expert e-book to backpacking the Grand Canyon rim to rim
or my expert e-book to dayhiking the Grand Canyon rim to rim.

A backpacker on day two in The Narrows of Zion National Park.
David Gordon backpacking on day two in The Narrows, Zion National Park. Click photo for my e-book to backpacking Zion’s Narrows.
A backpacker in the upper section of Zion's Narrows.
David Gordon backpacking on day one in Zion’s Narrows.

The Narrows, Zion National Park

One of the most uniquely magnificent and coveted hikes in the National Park System, The Narrows of the North Fork of the Virgin River in Zion squeeze down to the width of a hobbit’s living room in places, with walls of golden, crimson, and cream-colored sandstone that rise as much as a thousand feet tall. 

On this 16-mile, top-to-bottom hike—typically done in two days—you’ll walk in the shallow river most of the time and see very little direct sunlight, marveling at the constantly changing canyon and natural oddities like a waterfall pouring from cracks in solid rock, creating a hanging garden.

Enormously popular, the lower end of the Narrows teems with hundreds and sometimes thousands of dayhikers on hot days of late spring through early fall, when the river is warm and low. Many of those people don’t walk more than a mile or two upriver, while some go as far as Big Spring, at mile five, the farthest point dayhikers can venture without a wilderness permit. The hauntingly quiet upper Narrows can feel remarkably lonely.

Not surprisingly, this unrivaled adventure ranks among “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips” and “My 25 Most Scenic Days of Hiking Ever,” and our campsite in The Narrows graces my list of 25 favorite backcountry campsites.

See my story “Luck of the Draw, Part 2: Backpacking Zion’s Narrows.”

Click here now to get my expert e-book
“The Complete Guide to Backpacking the Narrows in Zion National Park.”

Young kids backpacking over the Big Spring Canyon-Squaw Canyon pass in the Needles District, Canyonlands National Park.
Our kids backpacking over the Big Spring Canyon-Squaw Canyon pass in the Needles District, Canyonlands National Park.
Along the Chesler Park Trail.
My son, Nate, on the Chesler Park Trail.

The Needles District, Canyonlands National Park

Stratified cliffs stretch for miles. Stone towers, with bulbous crowns bigger around than the column on which they sit, seem ever at the verge of toppling over. Multi-colored candlesticks of Cedar Mesa sandstone, in more hues than Crayola has yet replicated, loom 300 feet tall, forming castle-like ramparts.

Trails marked by zigzagging lines of stone cairns lead across waves of slickrock slabs, up narrow water runnels and calf-pumping ramps. In the Needles District of Canyonlands National Park, trails ignore the axiom of Euclidian geometry that the shortest distance between two points is a straight line. Hikers there navigate a maze without walls.

The Needles District encompasses a high plateau split by canyons. Erosional forces working over unfathomable gulfs of time formed this arid and tortured landscape; but it looks more like the work of giant children squeezing mud from their fists. That network of trails creates multiple options for short, relatively easy, but strikingly scenic backpacking trips and dayhikes through The Needles.

See my story “No Straight Lines: Backpacking and Hiking in Canyonlands and Arches National Parks.”

Want to read any story linked here, including my tips on planning these trips?
Join now for full access to ALL stories and get a free e-book!

 

Backpackers in the narrows of Paria Canyon.
Backpackers in the narrows of Paria Canyon.

Paria Canyon and Buckskin Gulch

A backpacker hiking down southern Utah's Buckskin Gulch.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking southern Utah’s Buckskin Gulch.

For much of the first three days of the five-day descent of Paria Canyon, you pass through its twisting narrows, where walls of searing, orange-red sandstone shoot up for hundreds of feet, so close together at times that a person can cross from one side to the other in a dozen strides.

Sunshine often ignites the upper walls and reflects warm light downward, painting every wave of rock in a subtly different hue. You’re often walking in the shallow river, and pockets of quicksand add an adventurous element to this trek.

The 38-mile hike down Paria Canyon has become famous among backpackers for its towering walls painted wildly with desert varnish, massive red rock amphitheaters and arches, hanging gardens where the few springs in the canyon gush from rock, and sandy benches for camping, shaded by cottonwood trees.

It’s done alone or combined with its 16-mile-long tributary slot canyon, Buckskin Gulch—where the walls, in spots, are barely wider than a person.

See my stories “Not a Dull Moment: Backpacking Buckskin Gulch and Paria Canyon” and “The Quicksand Chronicles: Backpacking Paria Canyon.”

Want my help planning any trip on this list?
Click here for expert advice you won’t get elsewhere.

A backpacker above Crack-in-the-Wall, Coyote Gulch, Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument, Utah.
A backpacker above Crack-in-the-Wall, Coyote Gulch, Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument, Utah.

Coyote Gulch, Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument

A waterfall in Coyote Gulch.
A waterfall in Coyote Gulch.

On a two-family, roughly 15-mile backpacking trip through Coyote Gulch, we hiked across ancient, petrified dunes; squeezed through a less-than-shoulder-width, 100-foot-long slot called Crack-in-the-Wall (which was fun and not as hard as it sounds); and stood at a cliff top overlooking a desert landscape of redrock towers and cliffs, including Stevens Arch, measuring some 220 feet across and 160 feet tall. And that was just in the first hour.

One of the Southwest’s easier backpacking trips—because of its short distance, lack of a narrows creating flash-flood potential, and the presence of a perennial stream (read: you don’t have to carry several pounds of water)—Coyote Gulch features a natural bridge, two of the region’s most distinctive natural arches, and one deeply overhanging wall some 200 feet tall with amazing echo acoustics.

Coyote’s sheer walls at times loom close and you walk in the creek; elsewhere, the upper canyon walls spread a quarter-mile apart and rise up to 900 feet overhead. In a sense, Coyote delivers a complete—and beginner-friendly—canyon-hiking experience.

See my story “Playing the Memory Game in Southern Utah’s Escalante, Capitol Reef, and Bryce Canyon.”

Coyote Gulch is one of “The 5 Southwest Backpacking Trips You Should Do First.”

A backpacker on the Tonto Trail above the Colorado River in the Grand Canyon.
Mark Fenton on the Tonto Trail above the Colorado River in the Grand Canyon. Click on the photo to get my e-book “The Best Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon.”

The Grand Canyon’s ‘Best Backpacking Trip’

Wildflowers along the Grand Canyon's Escalante Route.
Wildflowers along the Grand Canyon’s Escalante Route.

Whoa, you’re thinking—the “best backpacking trip in the entire Grand Canyon??” That was my initial reaction when a longtime backcountry ranger in the canyon whom I know, who’s hiked every mile of trail in the park, described this 74-mile route from the South Kaibab Trailhead to Lipan Point to me using those words. I mean, every hike in this place is amazing, right?

Click here now for my expert e-book to the best backpacking trip in the Grand Canyon.

Then I backpacked it and found myself agreeing with him.

Besides the fact that the South Kaibab is one of the absolute best hikes in the entire National Park System, this route—which has shorter alternatives—follows one of the of the prettiest and most adventurous “trails” (if it can be called that) in the canyon, the Escalante Route, and incorporates the little-traveled and beautiful Beamer Trail, as well as another rim-to-river footpath, the Tanner Trail.

There’s some tricky route-finding and exposed scrambling, and water sources are sporadic—this high-level adventure is better for experienced and fit backpackers, ideally with a previous GC or other Southwest backpacking trips under their belts.

But you’ll enjoy some of the best backcountry campsites you’ve ever spent a night in, including beaches on the Colorado River (with the prospect of mooching real food from a river party).

See “The Best Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon,” “10 Epic Grand Canyon Backpacking Trips You Must Do,” and all stories about backpacking in the Grand Canyon at The Big Outside.

Score a popular permit using my
10 Tips For Getting a Hard-to-Get National Park Backcountry Permit.”

Backpackers in Aravaipa Canyon, Arizona.
Backpackers in Aravaipa Canyon, Arizona.

Aravaipa Canyon

A backpacker hiking into Arizona's Aravaipa Canyon.
Todd Arndt backpacking into Arizona’s Aravaipa Canyon from the West Trailhead.

Just 12 miles long from its west trailhead to its east one, southern Arizona’s Aravaipa Canyon captures enough water flowing out of the Galiuro Mountains to sustain a vibrant, perennial stream and an oddity in the Grand Canyon state: a desert oasis, where cottonwood trees taller and more abundant than you’ll see in most Southwest canyons line both creek banks.

The lush greenery contrasts starkly against redrock walls that rise as much as 700 feet above the creek. But high up the canyon walls and the often-dry side canyons, the environment shifts abruptly to that of the surrounding, vast Sonoran Desert, with saguaro occupying the numerous cliff ledges like thousands of spectators in a strangely steep-sided, long, narrow, and winding stadium.

With no maintained trail in the canyon, backpackers follow whatever user trails get beaten into the sandy ground—or, more often than not hike directly in Aravaipa Creek, splashing through water that ranges from not too cold to chilly and rarely up to calf-deep. The max stay permitted is two nights and most backpackers set up a base camp and dayhike to explore this unique and truly lovely canyon.

See my story “Backpacking the Desert Oasis of Aravaipa Canyon.”

On the same Southwest trip that we backpacked in Aravaipa Canyon in early April, three of us from that group also backpacked one of the finest three-day sections of the Arizona Trail, Passage 16, during a wildflower superbloom. See my story about that surprisingly beautiful hike.

Planning a backpacking trip? See “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips
and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”

 

Backpackers hiking in lower Owl Canyon, Bears Ears National Monument, Utah.
Backpacking in lower Owl Canyon, Bears Ears National Monument, Utah.

Owl and Fish Canyons, Bears Ears National Monument

A pool of clear water in Fish Canyon, Bears Ears National Monument, Utah.
A pool of clear water in Fish Canyon, Bears Ears National Monument, Utah.

The loop through Owl and Fish canyons, in southeastern Utah’s Bears Ears National Monument, begins and ends with rugged hiking and scrambling to enter and exit both canyons: You will use your hands at times going up and down, including the final, 12-foot corner in a cliff to reach the rim of Fish Canyon (aided by a fixed rope dangling down the cliff). The upper sections of both canyons present very steep terrain and, especially in Owl Canyon, debris from flash floods like knots of crushed vegetation and boulders bigger than a car to navigate around.

This hike isn’t for anyone who’s uncomfortable with mild to moderate exposure. But these canyons evoke better-known places in southern Utah, with tall, red cliffs, towers, the striking amphitheater surrounding Nevills Arch (see lead photo at top of story), rippled slickrock, pour-offs and seasonal waterfalls, flowering cacti, cottonwoods, and a surprising abundance of seasonal, clear water in parts of both canyons.

Just 15 to 17 miles, hiked in two to three days, Owl and Fish canyons offer incredible scenery (and night skies), solitude, and a permit that’s easier to get than for better-known Southwest backpacking trips. That’s a rare find.

See my story “Backpacking Southern Utah’s Owl and Fish Canyons” and all stories about backpacking in Utah at The Big Outside.

Plan your next great backpacking adventure using my expert e-books.
Click here now to learn more.

A hiker on the West Rim Trail above Zion Canyon in Zion National Park.
David Ports hiking the West Rim Trail above Zion Canyon in Zion National Park.

Traversing Zion National Park

La Verkin Creek in Zion National Park.
La Verkin Creek in Zion National Park.

Other Southwestern parks have natural arches, spires, and ancient cliff dwellings, but none really matches Zion’s grandeur: the giant walls of white and blood-red rock, with striations rippling across vast spans of sandstone.

While the park is best known for the 2,000-foot-tall cliffs of Zion Canyon and the justifiably popular dayhike up Angels Landing (which I consider one of the best dayhikes in the entire National Park System), backpacking a nearly 50-mile, north-south traverse takes you on a grand tour of this flagship park. And it can be broken into sections for shorter, beginner-friendly trips.

From Lee Pass Trailhead in the Kolob Canyons, where burgundy cliffs rise above verdantly green stream bottoms, you’ll pass between the black-streaked, red walls of Hop Valley, and follow the West Rim Trail—considered by some Zion aficionados the park’s best—high above a maze of deep, white-walled canyons.

After descending a sidewalk-wide footpath blasted out of cliffs, the traverse passes Angels Landing—a must-do side trip—before crossing Zion Canyon and taking the East Rim Trail past Weeping Rock, through Echo Canyon, and past the white beehive cliffs of the park’s east side.

See all stories about Zion National Park at The Big Outside, including “Pilgrimage Across Zion: Traversing a Land of Otherworldly Scenery” and “Mid-Life Crisis: Hiking 50 Miles Across Zion in a Day.”

Get the right gear for your trips. See “The 10 Best Backpacking Packs
and “The 10 Best Backpacking Tents.”

 

A backpacker along the Colorado River on the Grand Canyon's Thunder River-Deer Creek Loop.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking along the Colorado River on the Grand Canyon’s Thunder River-Deer Creek Loop.

Thunder River-Deer Creek Loop, Grand Canyon

Deer Creek Falls in the Grand Canyon.
Deer Creek Falls in the Grand Canyon.

Yes, this top-10 list has three hikes in the Big Ditch—and it could justifiably have more. There is no place like the Grand Canyon, period. But of all the backpacking trips I have taken there, the most unique, varied, and magical just may be this rugged and remote, 25-mile loop off the North Rim.

Long on the radar of in-the-know backpackers and river-rafting parties taking side hikes, the Thunder River-Deer Creek Loop has an unusual abundance of a rare element in much of the canyon: water.

The two perennial creeks and one river (not counting the Colorado River, which this hike follows for a few miles) pour over some of the Grand Canyon’s loveliest waterfalls (see the photo near the top of this story), course through sculpted narrows, and nurture oases of trees and vegetation.

Descending a vertical mile to the Colorado River and then climbing back up again, on often-rugged trails, with seasons limited by road access and heat often challenging to put it mildly, this hike is no walk in the park—which is why many backpackers take four days or more to complete it. But it packs in all the qualities you go to the Grand Canyon for.

See my feature story “Backpacking the Grand Canyon’s Thunder River-Deer Creek Loop,” “10 Epic Grand Canyon Backpacking Trips You Must Do,” and all all stories about backpacking in the Grand Canyon at The Big Outside.

Planning your next big adventure? See “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips
and “Tent Flap With a View: 25 Favorite Backcountry Campsites.”

 

A backpacker hiking above Death Hollow on the Boulder Mail Trail in southern Utah's Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument.
Todd Arndt backpacking above Death Hollow on the Boulder Mail Trail in southern Utah’s Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument.

Death Hollow Loop, Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument

Backpackers hiking down Death Hollow in southern Utah's Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument.
David Gordon and Todd Arndt backpacking down Death Hollow in southern Utah’s Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument.

From crossing a high, sand and slickrock plateau on the Boulder Mail Trail, to descending the sometimes narrow and always dramatic canyon of Death Hollow, and finally ascending the upper canyon of the Escalante River between soaring, overhanging walls of red, brown, and cream-colored rock painted with desert varnish, the 22-mile Death Hollow Loop northeast of the town of Escalante delivers a primer on the rugged and adventurous character of a host of desert Southwest landscapes.

The Boulder Mail Trail’s circuitous route over waves of rippling Navajo Sandstone repeatedly rises and falls steeply—but nothing compares to the overlook of Death Hollow just before the trail plunges into it. Death Hollow poses flash-flood risk and, in the best conditions, involves walking in cold water ranging from below the ankles to mid-thigh or deeper—when you successfully skirt the deepest pools—with challenging obstacles and possibly wind blowing up or down the canyon to compound the water’s chill. Then there’s the poison ivy, which is, well, hard to exaggerate about.

But hit this route in good weather and safe water levels and you will be blown away by it.

See my story “Backpacking Utah’s Mind-Blowing Death Hollow Loop.”


Are you a fan of the beautiful photos you see at The Big Outside? Click here now
to get professional-quality prints of this blog’s most inspiring images!


A backpacker at the Maze Overlook in the Maze District, Canyonlands National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm at the Maze Overlook in the Maze District, Canyonlands National Park.

The Maze District, Canyonlands National Park

Hikers on the Pete's Mesa Route in the Maze District, Canyonlands National Park.
Todd Arndt and Jeff Wilhelm hiking the Pete’s Mesa Route in the Maze District, Canyonlands National Park.

Descending the trail off Maze Overlook, we followed a wildly circuitous trail across slickrock, marked by cairns but otherwise unobvious and not visible on the ground, winding below redrock cliffs and towers, past mounds of shattered boulders resembling ancient ruins, and along the sloping rims of giant bowls of rippled stone. In several spots, we removed and lowered our packs to scramble through tight crevices or downclimb a ladder of shallow footsteps chiseled into a sandstone cliff face.

That was on the second morning of our five-day backpacking trip into the Maze—and it came after we had lingered long over the panorama at the brink of the white cliffs of Maze Overlook, above the vast, chaotic sweep of sandstone fins, towers, and canyons that could only be called the Maze. A very rugged, remote, and hard-to-reach corner of the Southwest, with few water sources that can dry up seasonally, the Maze is undoubtedly one of the hardest trips on this list—for many reasons.

But the adventurous character of its routes, jaw-dropping vistas and canyons, ancient pictographs, and deep solitude make it a holy grail for serious Southwest explorers.

See my story “Farther Than It Looks—Backpacking the Canyonlands Maze.”.

See all stories about hiking and backpacking in Southern Utah and national park adventures at The Big Outside.

Whether you’re a beginner or seasoned backpacker, you’ll learn new tricks for making all of your trips go better in my “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” A Practical Guide to Lightweight and Ultralight Backpacking,” and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.” With a paid subscription to The Big Outside, you can read all of those three stories for free; if you don’t have a subscription, you can download the e-book versions of “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” the lightweight and ultralight backpacking guide, and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”

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16 Photos From 2025 That Will Inspire Your Next Adventure https://thebigoutsideblog.com/16-photos-from-2025-that-will-inspire-your-next-adventure/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/16-photos-from-2025-that-will-inspire-your-next-adventure/#respond Sat, 13 Dec 2025 17:28:31 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=69197 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

How was your 2025? I hope you got outdoors as much as possible with the people you care about—and you enjoyed adventures that inspired you. I’m sharing in this story photos from several backpacking and hiking trips I took this year, from the Grand Canyon in March and southern Utah’s Capitol Reef National Park, Buckskin Gulch, and Paria Canyon in April to Idaho’s Sawtooths in August and again in early October and Wyoming’s Wind River Range in September.

That felt like a pretty good year to me (although there’s an argument to be made that my 2024 was better). But I’m very fortunate to be able to get out a lot.

Going through my photos always reminds me not just about the details of these experiences and places—but most of all, what’s most important in my life and why I strive to make getting outdoors a top priority. I know you do, too—that’s why you read my blog.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


Morning at Skull Lake in the Wind River Range, Wyoming.
Morning at Skull Lake in the Wind River Range, Wyoming.

The photos in this story are selected images from my 2025 trips. Whether you want to learn more to take any of them yourself or simply draw some inspiration from them, I think you’ll enjoy this little escape.

Scroll through the photos and short anecdotes from each trip below. Some include links to stories about those places that I’ve already posted—many of which require a paid subscription to The Big Outside to read in full, including my tips and information on how to plan and take those trips. Watch for my upcoming stories about the other places described below. Click any photo to learn more about that trip.

Planning your next big adventure? See “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips
and “Tent Flap With a View: 25 Favorite Backcountry Campsites.”

 

Dawn at Spangle Lake in Idaho's Sawtooth Mountains.
Dawn at Spangle Lake in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains. Click on photo to see this and many other images from the Sawtooth Mountains, and other places I’ve written about, that you can purchase as professionally printed enlargements for framing.

I can help you plan any of these trips or any others you read about at The Big Outside—giving you the benefit of my more than three decades of professional experience identifying, planning, and successfully pulling off great adventures. See my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you, and my expert e-books to some of America’s best backpacking trips.

I’d love to hear what you think of any of my photos or the places shown in them, or upcoming plans you have. Please share your thoughts in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

Enjoy my pictures and start now planning your adventures for 2026.

Put more adventure in your life starting today. Sign up now for my FREE email newsletter.

 

A backpacker hiking the Tonto Trail west of Hermit Canyon, high above the Colorado River in the Grand Canyon.
My wife, Penny, backpacking the Tonto Trail west of Hermit Canyon, high above the Colorado River in the Grand Canyon.

The Grand Canyon Tonto West to the Boucher Trail

In the last days of March, I returned yet again to a park where I have now backpacked and dayhiked in five of the past eight years (and several times further back in my past): the Grand Canyon. (And I just recently reserved a backcountry permit for another trip there in April 2026. I can’t get enough of it.) This time, with my wife, Penny, our 22-year-old daughter, Alex, and three friends—my longtime adventure partner David Ports, Penny’s great friend since college, Annie Black, and Alex’s close friend from college, Harper Meyer—we backpacked four days and roughly 36 miles from the Bright Angel Trailhead to the Hermit Trailhead, finishing via the notoriously steep Boucher Trail. And having now walked all of the major trails off the Grand Canyon’s South Rim, I can testify that the Boucher’s reputation is not exaggerated.

Besides starting on the park’s two most popular trails, the South Kaibab (David and I took this somewhat longer start) and the Bright Angel, our route followed a magnificent stretch of the 95-mile-long Tonto Trail west to Boucher Creek, crossing several tributary creek canyons with soaring cliffs and deep abysses and enjoyed three wonderful campsites, including one beside the Colorado River at Granite Rapids.

A backpacker hiking the Boucher Trail in the Grand Canyon.
My wife, Penny, backpacking the Boucher Trail in the Grand Canyon. Click photo to see “10 Epic Grand Canyon Backpacking Trips You Must Do,”

We also discovered that the Boucher is as exciting, varied, and breathtaking as it is steep in spots (but not the entire trail). Every time we lifted our eyes from the rocks and dirt at our feet in the steepest sections to look around, the scenery would slam the brakes on whatever focus we had on simply going up and hijack our full attention. The Boucher eventually levels off and makes a long traverse high above the grandest canyon, reminding me yet again that this place looks even better from a remote and lonely trail in the backcountry.

And on that traverse, we passed an established campsite that was an easy pick for my list of the best backcountry camps I’ve hiked past.

See my stories “Backpacking the Grand Canyon: Tonto West to Boucher Trail,” “10 Epic Grand Canyon Backpacking Trips You Must Do,” “How to Get a Permit to Backpack in the Grand Canyon,” all stories about backpacking in the Grand Canyon at The Big Outside, and my expert e-books to backpacking trips in the Grand Canyon and elsewhere.

Plan your next great backpacking trip in Grand Canyon, Yosemite,
and other parks using my expert e-books.

A hiker standing atop Cassidy Arch in Capitol Reef National Park, Utah.
Jeff Wilhelm standing atop Cassidy Arch in Capitol Reef National Park, Utah.

Capitol Reef National Park

An April trip to southern Utah began with my friend Jeff Wilhelm and I dayhiking a roughly 10-mile traverse from the Grand Wash Trailhead on UT 24 to the eastern Cohab Canyon Trailhead on UT 24, including the spur trail to Cassidy Arch. That hike gave us a magnificent window onto Capitol Reef’s varied landscapes, taking us from canyon floors in Grand Wash and Cohab to the high plateau of the Frying Pan Trail and its sweeping views of the towers populating this part of the nearly 100-mile-long Waterpocket Fold.

I have written before that I consider Capitol Reef one of America’s most underappreciated national parks, and this hike demonstrates why.

A hiker on the Frying Pan Trail in Capitol Reef National Park, Utah.
Jeff Wilhelm hiking the Frying Pan Trail in Capitol Reef National Park, Utah.

Capitol Reef has become something of a regular stop for me, even if only for a day or two on a longer trip, because after more than 30 years of steadily exploring more of it, I’m still walking some trails there for the first time (this was my first time across the entire Frying Pan Trail and to Cassidy Arch), and there are others that I’m eager to walk again. The variety and striking natural wonder of this underappreciated gem of Utah’s canyon country keeps me coming back. It’s as nice as southern Utah’s other four parks—but not as crowded, especially once you hike at least a couple miles from a trailhead.

See “The Best Hikes in Capitol Reef National Park” and “The 15 Best Hikes in Utah’s National Parks,” and all stories about hiking and backpacking in southern Utah at The Big Outside.

Get full access to ALL stories at The Big Outside about these and many other trips,
including my expert tips on planning them, plus get a FREE e-book. Join now!

Buckskin Gulch and Paria Canyon

A backpacker hiking down southern Utah's Buckskin Gulch.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking southern Utah’s Buckskin Gulch.

In mid-April, joined by friends David Gordon, Doug Jenkins, and Jeff Wilhelm, I backpacked an overnight hike down southern Utah’s Buckskin Gulch to its confluence with the canyon of the Paria River, which flows south into Arizona and empties into the Colorado River at Lees Ferry, the gateway to the Grand Canyon.

Then, having planned a longer hike but facing a forecast that promised to turn our lovely, sunny, warm weather abruptly into a full-blown snowstorm by afternoon on our second day, we pivoted upstream to finish at the White House Trailhead, the top end of Paria. (We finished as we had confidently planned we would, a couple of hours before the storm commenced—and very happy that we did.)

Unquestionably one of the best backpacking trips in the Southwest, these two canyons combine what’s often described as the country’s or the world’s longest slot canyon, Buckskin, with the much longer and more varied Paria Canyon, which itself has a narrows with high walls that extends for several miles.

I had first backpacked this exact same route more than 30 years ago (and Paria top to bottom, without Buckskin, about 10 years ago), and seeing Buckskin Gulch again after so much time made it feel almost brand new to me. Its walls, often slightly overhanging, rise to perhaps 200 feet high and the canyon widens briefly a few times. But it mostly remains a true, very narrow slot—sometimes barely wider than a person.

Gazing around, I was reminded that the greatest magic of slot canyons is how the diffused light paints the wildly rippled, orange and red walls in too many shades of those colors to quantify, as well as hues of brown and a deep black that looks like an oil spill—creating stark contrasts that delight and mystify the human eye and brain.

See my story about that trip “Not a Dull Moment: Backpacking Buckskin Gulch and Paria Canyon,” my story about a previous, two-family trip backpacking down the length of Paria Canyon, “The Quicksand Chronicles: Backpacking Paria Canyon,” and all stories about hiking and backpacking in southern Utah at The Big Outside.


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The unnamed lake where we camped in the lakes basin on the south side of Snowyside Peak, Sawtooth Mountains, Idaho.
The unnamed lake where we camped on our first night in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains in August.

The Sawtooth Mountains

In August, two good friends and regular backpacking compadres, Todd Arndt and Mark Fenton, joined my wife, Penny, and me on a four-day, roughly 31-mile, point-to-point backpacking trip through Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains—a range that’s become my home mountains, having explored it extensively for almost 30 years since I moved to Idaho, from numerous backpacking trips to big dayhikes, bagging a bunch of peaks (adding yet another new one to my list in 2025; see the bottom of this story), backcountry skiing, and rock climbing some classic routes.

And it pleases me to say that, for as much as I’ve already seen of the Sawtooths, on this trip we hiked through areas that were entirely new to me—as well as new to Penny and Todd, who’ve also explored these mountains a fair bit, and entirely new to Mark, on his first trip here. He came away from it loving this wilderness and eager to come back.

A backpacker hiking Trail 7092 to the pass on the Edith-Imogene Lakes Divide in the Sawtooth Mountains, Idaho.
My wife, Penny, backpacking Trail 7092 to the pass on the Edith-Imogene Lakes Divide in the Sawtooth Mountains, Idaho.

While most of our trip was on trails, we did hike over an off-trail pass that was steep at times but straightforward on one side and involved crossing some not-entirely stable talus on the side we descended; all in all, though, not bad. And that pass delivered us into a remote area of the Sawtooths that sees very few backpackers, despite an abundance of beautiful alpine lakes and more high passes with sweeping views of these sharply incised peaks. And Todd and I scrambled up a 10,000-foot summit, a very worthwhile and remote peak to bag (which I’ll describe in more detail in my upcoming story about this trip).

Watch for my upcoming story about this trip. Meanwhile, see “The Best Hikes and Backpacking Trips in Idaho’s Sawtooths” and all stories about backpacking in the Sawtooths at The Big Outside as well as my expert e-book “The Best Backpacking Trip in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains.”

I’ve helped many readers plan unforgettable backpacking trips in the Grand Canyon, Sawtooths, Wind River Range, and elsewhere. Want my help with your next trip? Click here.

Sunset at Lower Cook Lake on a solo backpacking trip in the Wyoming's Wind River Range in September.
Sunset at Lower Cook Lake on a solo backpacking trip in the Wyoming’s Wind River Range in September.

The Wind River Range Solo

In the first week of September, after a good friend and longtime regular backpacking partner regrettably had to back out of this trip due to a persistent injury, I embarked on my first solo multi-day hike in probably a couple of decades (mostly because I prefer good company and I’m fortunate to have a great bench of partners).

But I wouldn’t have canceled because it was in one of my very favorite mountain ranges in America: Wyoming’s Wind River Range. Excited for it despite not having company, I walked about 64 miles in six glorious days, much of it on trails all new to me, including a big piece of the Continental Divide Trail through the Winds—which, by the way, is widely considered among thru-hikers (at least among the sizable sample I’ve now met) one of the two best sections of the CDT, along with Glacier National Park.

And what an adventure it was.

Pyramid Peak (right) and Mount Hooker (left of Pyramid), above Mae's Lake in the Wind River Range, Wyoming.
Pyramid Peak (right) and Mount Hooker (left of Pyramid), above Mae’s Lake in the Wind River Range. Click photo to see this and many other photos from places I’ve written about at The Big Outside that you can purchase professional-quality enlargements of that are suitable for framing.

The Winds are known for its constellation of alpine lakes—estimates include 1,300 name and 1,600 total lakes—and this trip delivered on that reputation even more than I expected: I camped by gorgeous waters every night and walked past an untold number of gorgeous lakes at the foot of big, rocky peaks.

Watch for my upcoming story about that trip. Meanwhile, see “The 10 Best Backpacking Trips in the Wind River Range” and all stories about backpacking in the Winds at The Big Outside.

The right gear makes any trip go better.
See “The 10 Best Backpacking Packs” and “The 10 Best Backpacking Tents.”

A hiker on the 10,716-foot summit of Mount Cramer, second-highest peak in the Sawtooth Mountains, Idaho.
Chip Roser on the 10,716-foot summit of Mount Cramer, second-highest peak in the Sawtooth Mountains, Idaho.

Hiking the Second-Highest Peak in Idaho’s Sawtooths

In the first week of October, with the early-morning temperature bottomed out at a bone-chilling 19° F, my friend Chip Roser and I the hit the trail walking as fast as we could—partly just to warm up, but also because we had a big day ahead of us: hiking the second-highest peak in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains, 10,716-foot Mount Cramer.

It was admittedly late in the season for hiking in the Sawtooths, but there wasn’t any snow yet at higher elevations and we had a forecast promising sunshine all day, comfortably cool temps, and little wind; and once the sun finally found us (we started early in the cold shade of the forest), we warmed up quickly and remained so all day. And what a day it was.

Morning at Hell Roaring Lake in the Sawtooth Mountains, Idaho.
A 20-degree morning at Hell Roaring Lake in the Sawtooth Mountains, Idaho.

From the Upper Hell Roaring Trailhead (requiring a high-clearance vehicle; otherwise, start at the Lower Hell Roaring Trailhead), we hiked Trail 7092 past a glassy-calm Hell Roaring Lake to the northeast corner of Imogene Lake. From there, we found a use trail leading to the start of the long scramble up the rocky east ridge of Cramer.

Cramer’s summit rises to a sharp point on a boulder resembling a very large arrowhead, From there, in the heart of the Sawtooths, you can see the entire range and pick out numerous other peaks and distinctive alpine lakes far below. We even ended that nearly 18-mile October hike, with more than 3,500 vertical feet of uphill and downhill, with a little daylight remaining.

By the way, if you’re interested in a great hike up the highest peak in the Sawtooths (and somewhat shorter than Cramer, but a full day), read about 10,751-foot Thompson Peak and other outstanding hikes in my story “The Best Hikes and Backpacking Trips in Idaho’s Sawtooths” (which I will update in 2026, adding this hike). And see all stories about backpacking in the Sawtooths at The Big Outside.

As you plan your trips for next year, see “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips,” “The 25 Best National Park Dayhikes,” my 25 all-time favorite backcountry campsites, and my Trips page at The Big Outside.

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How to Dress in Layers for Winter in the Backcountry https://thebigoutsideblog.com/how-to-dress-in-layers-for-winter-in-the-backcountry/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/how-to-dress-in-layers-for-winter-in-the-backcountry/#comments Wed, 10 Dec 2025 10:00:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=25979 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

If hiking, backpacking, and climbing from spring through fall teaches us the fundamentals of layering our clothing for comfort in variable weather, the backcountry in winter confers a graduate degree in layering. In mild temperatures, getting wet with perspiration or precipitation merely risks discomfort. In freezing temps, it can quickly lead to hypothermia and actually become life-threatening.

This article offers expert advice on how to choose a specific, personalized layering system for different exertion levels and body types in backcountry in winter. Drawn from my four decades of experience backpacking, Nordic and backcountry skiing, snowshoeing, climbing, camping, and trail running in winter—including 10 years as the Northwest Editor and lead gear reviewer for Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog—these tips go beyond the usual layering advice to help you stay comfortable and safe by customizing clothing systems according to activity and body type.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A layering system is simply the clothing layers you wear outdoors, and we all understand that dressing in layers allows us to make adjustments—adding and removing layers—as needed for changing conditions. But temperatures near and below freezing compound the challenge of dressing comfortably during exertion, when our bodies sweat, because damp clothing conducts heat from your body, and cold air rapidly accelerates that cooling effect—potentially to a dangerous degree.

See “12 Pro Tips For Staying Warm Outdoors in Winter.”

A backcountry skier in Idaho's Boise Mountains.
Chip Roser backcountry skiing in Idaho’s Boise Mountains.

Choosing a Layering System

Three variables dictate the layers you need:

• The ambient conditions you expect to encounter—temperature range, wind, and precipitation—as well as how terrain and vegetation cover affect your exposure to the weather: You’re more protected from wind and weather in the forest than above treeline. But a shaded valley bottom with no direct sunlight, where the coldest air pools on a calm day, can feel colder than the warm sunshine and calm air higher up.

• Your level of exertion, whether moderate (downhill or backcountry skiing or riding, ski touring, or snowshoeing) or highly aerobic (fast Nordic skiing, trail running).

• Your body type and metabolism, or more simply, how easily you get cold.

Think of those variables on a sliding scale. As we all understand, you need warmer layers as temperatures and exertion level drop. But your choice of specific garments will also depend on your body and activity, and some apparel can cross over between the two types of layering systems (explained below).

See “The Best Gloves For Winter—and All Seasons” and “The Best Mittens For Winter
for both high-exertion and moderate-exertion activities.

Backcountry skiing in Idaho's Smoky Mountains above the Wood River Valley.
Keith York ski touring in Idaho’s Smoky Mountains, above the Wood River Valley.

Base Layers for Winter

Whatever your exertion level, you want next-to-skin tops and bottoms that do two things:

1. Wick moisture off your skin quickly.

2. Provide at least the minimum amount of warmth you need for the conditions and your body.

In winter, those two traits become especially important. A top that’s too light reduces your layering system’s versatility by forcing you to rely only on your insulation layer for warmth—and insulation that’s warm enough for the coldest temps you face, as it should be, may be too much at other times.

Start your layering system smartly with
the best base layers for being active outdoors.

On the other hand, you also don’t want your base layer top to make you overheat, which can happen in the warmest circumstances you might encounter—such as skiing or snowshoeing uphill in sunshine, calm air, and temps around or above freezing. It’s also possible to overheat when moving uphill in temps just below freezing and snow falling hard enough that it requires you to wear a shell jacket. In that situation, an insulation layer may be too warm, so you need a base layer under that shell that provides adequate warmth.

You can also combine two base layers, a lightweight one and a midweight, giving you another possible layering adjustment to deal with fluctuating temps. (Or you can moderate your pace, which is another of my “12 Pro Tips For Staying Warm Outdoors in Winter.”) But peeling off and putting on base layers is less convenient in winter than in summer—especially in falling snow or when you’re wearing an avalanche beacon. Better to have one base layer (or two) that does the job.

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Backcountry avalanche instructor Chago Rodriguez skiing in the shadow of Mount Heyburn in Idaho's Sawtooth Mountains.
Expert backcountry avalanche instructor Chago Rodriguez skiing in the shadow of Mount Heyburn in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains. Click photo to learn about his courses.

Pants for the Backcountry in Winter

We swap out top layers in winter, but not our bottoms. Depending, of course, on the activity and conditions, we generally wear one or two bottom layers and do not change them while outside. Consequently, our pants or bottoms must be chosen specifically for the activity and conditions.

Here’s what to look for:

• For trail running in moderately cold temps (around freezing to 40s F), I often wear running shorts over compression shorts or three-quarter-length tights (which reach to the top of the calves and cover the knees) with compression calf sleeves or socks; or lightweight, highly breathable, fast-wicking tights.

• When Nordic skiing, I favor lightweight soft-shell pants that breathe well, block some wind (for skiing downhill), shed snow, and offer a bit more warmth than tights. This type of pant crosses over well to three-season hiking and climbing in the mountains, too.

• For backcountry skiing or snowshoeing, I want more substantial pants that still breathe well—typically soft-shell—but are designed to keep snow out of ski boots (with an internal gaiter) and deliver a bit more warmth and weather protection.

Which puffy should you buy? See “The 12 Best Down Jackets” and
How You Can Tell How Warm a Down Jacket Is.”

A backcountry skier in Idaho's Boise Mountains.
A backcountry skier in Idaho’s Boise Mountains.

Two Types of Layering Systems for Winter

When it comes to a shell and insulation, most people will employ one of two different types of layering systems in temperatures from just above to well below freezing:

1. Layering for moderate-exertion activities of anywhere from an hour to all day, or even multiple days if you’re staying in a backcountry cabin or yurt or winter camping. That demands a versatile system, with three or more layers, that allows adjustments dictated by changing conditions.

2. Layering for high-exertion activities, which are usually of shorter duration—a few hours or less—and often may not involve making adjustments, such as when Nordic skiing or trail running.

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David Gordon finding powder in Idaho's Boise Mountains.
David Gordon finding powder in Idaho’s Boise Mountains.

The Best Moderate-Exertion Layering System

If your primary winter activities are backcountry skiing or ski touring, snowshoeing, or hiking, you need a layering system with great versatility, which usually means three types of layers: base, middle or insulating layer, and shell.

This could consist of just three pieces, and at times, you might only wear one layer over your base top: insulation for warmth when it’s not precipitating, or a shell to fend off falling snow when you’re working hard enough to stay warm without insulation. You might, of course, wear two base layers (one lightweight, one warmer) or even a combined vest and insulating jacket as “middle” layers, with or without a shell.

Want to hike the Teton Crest Trail, John Muir Trail, or another trip?
Click here for expert advice you won’t get elsewhere.

Insulation The classic middle layer is critical because it provides most of your layering system’s warmth. It should also breathe well, because your outer/shell layer will already be the least-breathable piece of the system; more than one layer with limited breathability can quickly start feeling clammy. The good news is that there’s an ever-expanding array of options in insulating layers that breathe well, some of which also cut some wind. Your middle layer will many times pull double duty as an outer layer when you don’t need a shell.

Shell In winter temps from above freezing down into single digits or below zero Fahrenheit, I want a shell jacket with superior breathability, because I can overheat skiing uphill in the backcountry (or even skiing downhill in deep powder), but also built to repel hours of falling snow and block most wind, with an adjustable, brimmed hood that keeps wind and precipitation off my face. While not many years ago, these fully technical shell jackets fell on either side of a fine line between soft shell (highly breathable but not fully waterproof) and hard shell (fully waterproof but not quite as breathable), today you’ll find shells that blur that distinction, with the supple feel and breathability of a traditional soft shell while delivering fully waterproof performance.

Lastly, for multi-hour or multi-day adventures deep in the backcountry in winter, far from the nearest road, prudence dictates having a warm puffy jacket both to prevent you from rapidly cooling off during short rests, and in case of an emergency. The best are stuffed with enough insulation to keep you warm when stationary in temps well below freezing; have a hood that closes snugly around your noggin (and in some cases, over a helmet); and have properties that help them repel moisture and falling snow, like a DWR (durable water-resistant treatment) on the shell, and synthetic or hydrophobic (water-resistant) down insulation.

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Penny Beach skate-skiing in Idaho's Boise Mountains.
Penny Beach skate-skiing in Idaho’s Boise Mountains.

The Best High-Exertion Layering System

If your winter sport of choice involves sweating and breathing hard, like running and Nordic skiing or even power hiking, fabric breathability becomes the top priority in your outer layer—you need to dump as much of the moisture your body is producing as possible, to avoid getting too wet. Your jacket should also have enough water resistance to not soak through in light rain or snow, but a fully waterproof-breathable jacket is typically overkill, because it’s not nearly as breathable as a water-resistant shell and usually heavier. Besides, in temps below freezing, you don’t need a waterproof jacket; a water-resistant shell can shed falling snow.

This layering system usually consists simply of an adequately warm, often midweight base layer and a lightweight, very breathable jacket. Occasionally, I’ll wear a lightweight base layer under a midweight, when I need a little extra warmth, because for these activities, I’m not wearing an avalanche beacon or likely to make layering adjustments.

Backcountry skiing in Idaho's Sawtooth Mountains.
Scott White making cold smoke in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains.

A Tip About Hoods

Most of the time, I like having any kind of hood on a jacket—and I definitely want an adjustable, helmet-compatible, full-coverage hood on a shell for multi-hour activities like skiing or snowshoeing. But understand the pros and cons to having a hooded middle layer.

Hoods come in basically two styles:

1. Very close-fitting, non-adjustable, usually elasticized hoods intended to just provide some added warmth and good breathability, but minimal wind and weather protection. They are usually found on insulating layers or lightweight jackets and designed to fit under a ski or climbing helmet.

2. Adjustable, “fully technical” hoods on a shell that deliver complete weather protection and fit over a helmet or any hat.

While there are advantages to having an insulating layer with a close-fitting hood for warmth (type 1 above) as well as a fully technical hood on your shell (type 2), if your system has more than one hood, make sure they fit well together when on and off your head. For the most part, insulated jackets have either a close-fitting hood or none; but some insulated hoods are bulky and don’t fit compatibly with all shell hoods. Two high-volume hoods are too many. Test them together.

Be sure to read my “12 Pro Tips For Staying Warm Outdoors in Winter” and see all reviews of outdoor apparel at The Big Outside.

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New Year Inspiration: My Top 10 Adventure Trips https://thebigoutsideblog.com/new-year-inspiration-my-top-10-adventure-trips/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/new-year-inspiration-my-top-10-adventure-trips/#comments Mon, 08 Dec 2025 10:05:47 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=3411 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

I often get asked the question, “What’s your favorite trip?” And I don’t have an answer. To pick just one from all the amazing adventures I’ve had the good fortune to take over more than three decades feels like an impossible task. Instead, I maintain this list of my 10 all-time favorites (so far). It includes some of America’s best backpacking trips, from the Teton Crest Trail and John Muir Trail to Glacier National Park, plus hiking across the Grand Canyon, trekking in Iceland, Patagonia, Norway, and Italy’s Dolomite Mountains (photo above), and some places that might surprise you.

As you’re planning your next great adventures—as you should be doing at this time of year—consider that my picks are chosen from scores of backpacking, dayhiking, paddling, trekking, and other trips I’ve taken, domestically and internationally, over a period of time that includes the 10 years I spent as a writer for Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


Trekkers overlooking Álftavatn Lake, along Iceland's Laugavegur Trail.
My daughter, Alex, and son, Nate, overlooking Álftavatn Lake, along Iceland’s Laugavegur Trail.

Some of the trips described below—each with a link to the full feature story about it at The Big Outside, which has my tips on planning it (and those require a paid subscription to read in full)—are classics you’ve heard or read about. But others are places you may not know of—because I feel a list like this should introduce you to someplace new. That’s what adventure is all about.

See also my picks for “The 10 Best Family Outdoor Adventure Trips” for more ideas; some of these trips could have made either list. See also my expert e-books to some of America’s best backpacking trips and my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you plan any trip you read about at The Big Outside.

I’d love to hear what you think of this list and any suggestions for trips you think belong on it. Share your thoughts in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

Start planning one of your best adventures ever right now—to ensure yourself a very happy new year.

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Sea kayakers in Alaska's Glacier Bay National Park.
Sea kayakers in Alaska’s Glacier Bay National Park.

Sea Kayaking Alaska’s Glacier Bay

Few corners of the planet remain as pristine as this national park that’s the size of Connecticut, which sits at the heart of a contiguous protected wilderness the size of Greece. On a multi-day sea kayaking trip here, you can see massive tidewater glaciers explosively calving bus-sized chunks of ice into the sea, humpback whales, orcas, Steller sea lions, mountain goats, seals, sea otters, brown bears, and a variety of birds and wildflowers. It feels like traveling back in time to the end of the last ice age.

See my story about my family’s five-day sea kayaking trip in Glacier Bay, “Back to the Ice Age: Sea Kayaking Glacier Bay.”

See my “10 Tips For Getting a Hard-to-Get National Park Backcountry Permit.”

A backpacker on the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking the Teton Crest Trail on Death Canyon Shelf in Grand Teton National Park. Click photo for my expert e-book to backpacking the Teton Crest Trail.

Backpacking the Teton Crest Trail

The Teton Crest Trail is, step for step, unquestionably one of the most gorgeous mountain walks in America, a true classic offering all the elements of an unforgettable backpacking trip: views of the incomparable skyline of the Tetons and deep, cliff-flanked, glacier-scoured canyons; wonderful campsites, wildflowers, mountain lakes and creeks; and a good chance of seeing moose, elk, marmots, pikas, mule deer, and black bears. I fell in love with the Tetons on my first visit, more than 20 years ago, and I’ve returned more than 20 times since to backpack, rock climb, dayhike, bag most of the major summits, canoe, and backcountry ski. I never grow tired of the sight of these peaks.

See my stories  “A Wonderful Obsession: Backpacking the Teton Crest Trail,” “5 Reasons You Must Backpack the Teton Crest Trail,” “How to Get a Permit to Backpack the Teton Crest Trail,” and all stories about backpacking the Teton Crest Trail at The Big Outside.

Get my expert e-book “The Complete Guide to Backpacking the Teton Crest Trail
and see this menu of all of my expert e-books to classic backpacking trips.

A backpacker at Evolution Lake on the John Muir Trail in Evolution Basin, Kings Canyon National Park.
Marco Garofalo at Evolution Lake on the John Muir Trail in Evolution Basin, Kings Canyon National Park.

Thru-Hiking the John Muir Trail

If hearing the JMT described as “America’s Most Beautiful Trail”—as it often is—seems to you like a hyperbolic claim, then you really must go see for yourself. For mile after jaw-dropping mile, you walk below incisor peaks of clean granite, past more waterfalls than anyone could name in a thousand lifetimes, along pristine wilderness lakes nestled in rocky basins, and over passes topping 12,000 and 13,000 feet with views that stretch a hundred miles. Whether or not you agree with that nickname “America’s Most Beautiful Trail,” it will be one of the most wonderful research projects you’ve ever done.

See all stories about backpacking the John Muir Trail at The Big Outside, including “Thru-Hiking the John Muir Trail: What You Need to Know,” “How to Get a John Muir Trail Wilderness Permit,” an “Ultimate, 10-Day, Ultralight Plan” for a JMT thru-hike, and “Thru-Hiking the John Muir Trail in Seven Days: Amazing Experience, or Certifiably Insane?

Want my help planning your hike on the Teton Crest Trail, JMT, or another trip?
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Torres del Paine National Park, in Chile's Patagonia region.
A guanaco in Torres del Paine National Park, in Chile’s Patagonia region.

Trekking Patagonia: Chile’s Torres del Paine National Park

One of the most prized trekking destinations in the world, Torres del Paine National Park is a place of severely vertical stone monoliths thousands of feet tall, and some of the world’s largest glaciers pouring into emerald lakes. Of twisted lenga trees, raging whitewater rivers, and the maybe most relentless winds you’ve ever encountered. Patagonia is a dream destination for backpackers all over the world. Read this story to learn how to do Patagonia right.

See my story “Patagonian Classic: Trekking Torres del Paine.”

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A hiker near Skeleton Point on the Grand Canyon's South Kaibab Trail.
David Ports hiking the Grand Canyon’s South Kaibab Trail.

Exploring Deep into the Grand Canyon

Know this before you go to the Grand Canyon: This place will steal your heart. That has been my experience from numerous trips over the years, from rim-to-rim-to-rim dayhikes to multi-day hikes on some of the canyon’s most remote and rugged paths. Now, every return visit just fuels my hunger to go back yet again to explore another corner I haven’t seen yet.

Choose the dayhike or backpacking trip that looks most appealing and suits your skills and experience, and just go see this seemingly infinite complex of shockingly deep and wide side canyons, walls stacked in multi-colored layers, and an army of stone towers. If you’re like me, you will end up going back again and again.

See my numerous stories about Grand Canyon National Park at The Big Outside, including “How to Hike the Grand Canyon Rim to Rim in a Day,” “10 Epic Grand Canyon Backpacking Trips You Must Do,” and all stories about backpacking in the Grand Canyon.

Get my expert e-books to backpacking the Grand Canyon rim to rim, dayhiking the Grand Canyon rim to rim, and “The Best Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon.”

A family trekking hut-to-hut on the Alta Via 2 through Italy's Dolomite Mountains.
My wife and daughter on our hut-to-hut trek on the Alta Via 2 through Italy’s Dolomite Mountains.

Trekking the Alta Via 2 Through Italy’s Dolomite Mountains

The Alta Via 2, or “The Way of the Legends,” a roughly 108-mile/180-kilometer alpine footpath through one of the world’s most spectacular and storied mountain ranges, Italy’s Dolomites, is famous for many attributes, including comfortable mountain huts with excellent food; a reputation for being the most remote and difficult of the several multi-day alte vie (plural for alta via), or “high paths,” that crisscross the Dolomites; and scenery that puts it in legitimate contention for the title of the most beautiful trail in the world.

Read about my family’s weeklong, hut-to-hut trek on a 39-mile/62-kilometer section of the AV 2 in my story “’The World’s Most Beautiful Trail:’ Trekking the Alta Via 2 in Italy’s Dolomites.”

See which section of the Alta Via 2 made my “30 Most Scenic Days of Hiking Ever.”
Click here to learn how I can help you plan this incomparable trek.

A backpacker on the Dawson Pass Trail in Glacier National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking the Dawson Pass Trail in Glacier National Park.

Backpacking in Glacier National Park

Think of Glacier National Park and you think of mountain scenery that truly justifies a severely overused adjective: awesome. You think of wildlife sightings that are possible in few places in the Lower 48: bighorn sheep, moose, elk, so many mountain goats you may lose count, and black bears and grizzly bears.

There are two 90-mile hikes in Glacier that make my list of “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips:” The first is a tour of northern Glacier, broken up into two hikes, a 65-miler that’s my modified version of Glacier’s best backpacking trip, the Northern Loop, and a 25-miler on the beautiful Gunsight Pass Trail, simplified logistically by the park’s free shuttle buses. The second is a north-south traverse through Glacier mostly on the Continental Divide Trail, from Chief Mountain Trailhead at the Canadian border to Two Medicine.

Both trips deliver everything that makes Glacier a favorite of backpackers: sightings of bighorn sheep, mountain goats, black bears, moose, and maybe even grizzlies. Go in September and you may hear elk bugling most mornings and evenings.

See all stories about backpacking in Glacier at The Big Outside, including “Descending the Food Chain: Backpacking Glacier National Park’s Northern Loop,” “Wildness All Around You: Backpacking the CDT Through Glacier,” and “Déjà vu All Over Again: Backpacking in Glacier National Park,” about my most recent, weeklong hike in Glacier.

Get my expert e-books to backpacking Glacier’s Northern Loop
and the CDT through Glacier, which also describe shorter itinerary options.

Hikers descending off Mount Bláhnúkur, above Landmannalaugar, Iceland.
My daughter, Alex, and son, Nate, descending off Mount Bláhnúkur, above Landmannalaugar in Iceland’s Central Highlands.

Adventuring in Iceland

Do you believe in elves? Icelanders do, or at least enough to route highways around places considered the abodes of elves and trolls. This belief may draw inspiration from a landscape of raw beauty that has shaped the values of its people. Smaller than Kentucky, the country has about 150 volcanoes, the greatest concentration in the world. While exploring rugged trails through old lava flows, thermal features spewing steam into the sky, and mind-boggling waterfalls and glaciers, I began to think of Iceland as like a first crush, a mountain cabin, or Alaska: easy to fall in love with, hard to leave. You will feel the same way.

I returned in July 2022 to trek hut to hut on Iceland’s Laugavegur and Fimmvörðuháls trails and drive the Ring Road to see more of this fascinating island nation on dayhikes.

Read my story about my family’s hut trek, “A Family Hikes Iceland’s Laugavegur and Fimmvörðuháls Trails.” See also “9 Great Hikes and Walks Along Iceland’s Ring Road,” and “Earth, Wind, and Fire: A Journey to the Planet’s Beginnings in Iceland.”

Take the world’s best trips.
See all stories about international adventures at The Big Outside.

Hikers in the Cares Gorge, Picos de Europa National Park, Spain.
My family hiking in the Cares Gorge in Spain’s Picos de Europa National Park.

Hiking Spain’s Picos de Europa

Just a few hours’ drive from a major airport in northern Spain lies a spectacular mountain range resembling the Dolomites, with huts and charming mountain towns—and it’s possible you’ve never heard of it. On a five-day, 52-mile hike through the Picos de Europa, my family walked below jagged limestone peaks rising to over 8,500 feet, over passes above 7,000 feet and across mind-boggling alpine terrain that conveys a sense of much bigger peaks. We spent nights either in huts or delightful B&Bs or inns with great food in quiet, beautiful little villages.

See my story, “The Best 5-Day Hike in Spain’s Picos de Europa Mountains.”

Planning your next big adventure? See “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips
and “Tent Flap With a View: 25 Favorite Backcountry Campsites.”

 

Backpackers in Norway's Jotunheimen National Park.
Jasmine and Jeff Wilhelm backpacking in Norway’s Jotunheimen National Park.

Trekking Norway’s Jotunheimen National Park

Hike every day through a starkly beautiful, Arctic-like landscape of mountains plastered with snow and ice, and valleys bisected by rushing streams or filled with iceberg-choked lakes. Then spend every night in the most comfortable mountain huts you have ever encountered, eating meals fit for a four-star restaurant—that’s trekking Jotunheimen. From the multi-cultural experience to exciting stream fords and the opportunity for more challenging, optional side hikes—like the steep scramble up a peak named Kirkja and the all-day hike to Norway’s highest summit, Galdhøpiggen—this adventure was a home run for everyone in our group, age nine to 75.

See my story “Walking Among Giants: A Three-Generation Hut Trek in Norway’s Jotunheimen National Park.”

See also my story describing my top 10 family adventures, and a menu of every story about outdoor adventures at my Trips page at The Big Outside.

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The 10 Best Family Outdoor Adventure Trips https://thebigoutsideblog.com/my-top-10-family-adventures/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/my-top-10-family-adventures/#comments Mon, 08 Dec 2025 10:00:23 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=3364 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

As a parent of two young adults who’s taken them outdoors since before they can remember, I’ll share with you the biggest and in some ways most surprising lesson I’ve learned from these trips: Our outdoor adventures have been the best times we’ve had together as a family—and not just because the places are so special. The greatest benefit of these trips is that they have given us innumerable days with only each other and nature for entertainment—no electronic devices or other distractions that construct virtual walls within families in everyday life.

For my family, our experiences together outdoors make up most of our richest and favorite memories. They have brought us closer together.

That’s a gift we’ve given ourselves as a family, one that I’ve cherished every minute of (well, most of the minutes, anyway). I also know our kids will appreciate it more and more as they get older—and perhaps they will pass this gift on to children of their own someday.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A rainbow created by mist below Vernal Fall, along the Mist Trail in Yosemite N.P.
A rainbow created by mist below Vernal Fall, along the Mist Trail in Yosemite National Park.

No matter where you go or what you do with your kids, you can reap that reward. But if you want to share with your family the very best experiences and places in nature, well, I have a pretty darn awesome list for you.

For this story, I’ve picked out the 10 very best adventures my family has taken and I’ve written about at The Big Outside—which also rank among the most beautiful and inspiring trips I’ve taken over more than three decades as an outdoors writer, including many years running this blog and previously as a field editor for Backpacker magazine.

This tick list includes seven national parks, three world-class paddling adventures, three trips that should be on every backpacker’s to-do list, America’s most scenic and fascinating volcano hike, and cross-country skiing or hiking among the greatest concentration of active geysers in the world.

Not surprisingly, all of these trips are extremely popular and require planning and making reservations months in advance.

The writeups below all link to my full feature story about each trip at The Big Outside, which include more images and detailed tips on planning each one yourself (and which require a paid subscription to read in full).

You may also want to peruse my list of 10 all-time favorite adventures, domestic and international—there are definitely trips that could be on either list.

I’d love to read your comments about any of these trips or the entire list, and other readers and I would appreciate any advice you have on any of these trips. Share your thoughts in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

Here’s wishing you many years of forging lasting memories together as a family.

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Hikers on the crater rim of Mount St. Helens, with Mount Adams in the distance.
My kids, nephew, and mother on the crater rim of Mount St. Helens, with Mount Adams in the distance.

1. Three Generations, One Big Volcano: Hiking Mount St. Helens

I’ll make you this guarantee: Mount St. Helens is one of the coolest dayhikes in America, period. Hikers on the standard route, Monitor Ridge, soon emerge from shady rainforest onto a stark, gray and black moonscape of volcanic rocks, pumice, and ash, with infinite views of the Cascade Range, including other snow-capped volcanoes like Hood, Adams, and Rainier.

It’s also a tough hike at 10 miles round-trip and 4,500 vertical feet up and down, most of it on rugged terrain that varies from loose stones and dirt to ash that’s like hiking a giant sand dune. We had a special component to our trip up and down the mountain: a three-generation family group with a 66-year spread between the youngest, my 10-year-old daughter, and the oldest, my 76-year-old mother. When I scored last-minute permits to hike the mountain, I wasn’t sure everyone could make it. Then, hours into the ascent, events seemed to take an ominous turn.

Read my story “Three Generations, One Big Volcano: Hiking Mount St. Helens” to find out how it all turned out.

Mount St. Helens was one of “My Most Scenic Days of Hiking Ever.”

Half Dome, Liberty Cap, and Nevada Fall in Yosemite National Park.
The view from the John Muir Trail of Half Dome, Liberty Cap, and Nevada Fall in Yosemite National Park.

2. The Magic of Hiking to Yosemite’s Waterfalls

Stand at the brink of a thunderous waterfall that drops a sheer 1,400 feet over a cliff. Hike a trail in the heavy shower of mist raining from a clear, blue sky. Dayhike through one of the most iconic landscapes in America—Yosemite Valley.

The Valley’s towering cliffs and waterfalls will awe any adult and even the most cynical teenager. But for kids, there are also the thrills of walking through the mist from a giant waterfall, and moments like traversing the narrow catwalk blasted out of granite on the final steps to the top of Upper Yosemite Falls. Hiking in Yosemite should be a must for every avid hiker.

See my stories “The Magic of Hiking to Yosemite’s Waterfalls” and “The 12 Best Dayhikes in Yosemite” and all stories about hiking in Yosemite National Park at The Big Outside.

Plan your next great backpacking adventure in Grand Teton, Yosemite,
and other flagship parks using my expert e-books.

A raft floating the Green River through Stillwater Canyon in Canyonlands National Park.
A raft floating the Green River through Stillwater Canyon in Canyonlands National Park.

3. Tackling America’s Best Easy, Multi-Day Float Trip

For 52 miles through Stillwater Canyon in Utah’s Canyonlands National Park, the Green River slowly unfurls beneath a constant backdrop of giant redrock cliffs and spires. Off the water, you camp on sandy beaches and slickrock benches, hike to centuries-old Puebloan rock art and cliff dwellings, and maybe even spot bighorn sheep scrambling around on precipitous rock faces.

An easy trip for beginners and families—our party of 17 ranged in age from four to 80 and included eight kids—floating the Green River stood, for years, as my family’s gold standard for river trips (eventually replaced, when our kids got older, by the last trip on this list).

See my story “Still Waters Run Deep: Floating the Green River in Canyonlands” and all stories about river trips at The Big Outside.

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A family trekking the Tour du Mont Blanc in Italy.
My nephew Marco, daughter, Alex, and 80-year-old mom, Joanne, hiking the Tour du Mont Blanc in Italy.

4. Trekking the Tour du Mont Blanc in the Alps

My list would be incomplete without one of the biggest, most beautiful and fun adventures my family has ever taken. And you’ll find the Tour du Mont Blanc (also the lead photo at top of story) on just about any list of the world’s greatest trails. The main reason is the sheer majesty of this roughly 105-mile/170-kilometer walking path around the “Monarch of the Alps,” 15,771-foot/4,807-meter Mont Blanc. Passing through three Alpine nations—France, Italy, and Switzerland—and over several mountain passes reaching nearly 9,000 feet, it delivers almost constant views of glaciers, pointy peaks and “augilles,” and the snowy dome of Mont Blanc.

Making this trip all the more special was the fact that we had three generations of my extended family represented, including my 80-year-old mother.

Read my story “Hiking the Tour du Mont Blanc at an 80-Year-Old Snail’s Pace.”

Get my expert e-book “The Perfect Plan for Hiking the Tour du Mont Blanc.”

A young boy backpacking the wilderness coast of Olympic National Park.
My son, Nate, backpacking the wilderness coast of Olympic National Park.

5. Backpacking the Southern Olympic Coast

For our kids, who were nine and seven, this three-day backpacking trip on the wilderness coastline of Washington’s Olympic National Park ranked as a favorite for all the expected reasons that children love a wild ocean shore: playing for hours in water, exploring the variety of sea life in tide pools, and picking, awestruck, through the myriad flotsam from civilization like old, salt-worn buoys (my son took one home).

For adults, the scores of offshore sea stacks, giant trees, and natural beauty make the Olympic coast one of America’s classic backpacking trips.

See my story “The Wildest Shore: Backpacking the Southern Olympic Coast.”

See my “10 Tips for Taking Kids on Their First Backpacking Trip
and my very popular “10 Tips For Raising Outdoors-Loving Kids.”

A young boy backpacking the Tonto Trail in the Grand Canyon.
My son, Nate, backpacking the Tonto Trail in the Grand Canyon.

6. Dropping Into the Grand Canyon

Sure, any trip in the Big Ditch is worthy of a top 10 list—you could fill a top 10 list just with Grand Canyon hikes. But in this rugged terrain and unforgiving environment, choosing the right backpacking route becomes critical; most trails are rough, many trailheads remote.

This four-day, 29-mile hike combines two of the most spectacular and accessible trails coming off the South Rim—the Grandview and South Kaibab—with an easier, less-busy stretch of the Tonto Trail that delivers constant, big views.

See my story “Backpacking the Grand Canyon Grandview Point to the South Kaibab” and all stories about backpacking in the Grand Canyon at The Big Outside.

Want my help planning any trip that you read about at my blog?
Click here now for expert advice you won’t get anywhere else.

A mother and young daughter paddling a mangrove tunnel on the East River, in Florida's Everglades region.
My daughter, Alex, and wife, Penny, paddling a mangrove tunnel on the East River, on the edge of Florida’s Everglades.

7. Like No Other Place: Paddling the Everglades

Seeing scores of large, exotic birds like brown pelicans, roseate spoonbills, white ibises, and black anhingas. Canoeing among remote islands to camp on a wilderness beach you have all to yourself. Watching a dolphin surface just off your canoe’s bow and swim a wide circle around you. Paddling a flatwater river shared with alligators (kept at a safe distance).

It’s hard to overstate how exciting and fun this park is for adults and children. And the trip my family took when our kids were ten and almost eight was one of the most beginner-friendly in the Everglades.

See my story “Like No Other Place: Paddling the Everglades.”

Planning your next big adventure? See “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips
and “The 25 Best National Park Dayhikes.”

West Rim Trail, Zion National Park, Utah.
Backpacking the West Rim Trail in Zion National Park, Utah.

8. Backpacking Zion, a Land of Otherworldly Scenery

Many hikers content themselves with exploring the trails of Zion Canyon and the popular dayhike up Angels Landing—all worthwhile. But backpack into the backcountry and you discover a sprawling landscape that’s unique even in the Southwest.

Cliffs of pure white and blood-red sandstone soar hundreds of feet overhead, rock ripples like water, and you walk along a high rim looking down on a labyrinth of slot canyons and isolated mesas. This trip’s moderate difficulty and multiple itinerary options make it ideal for families and beginner backpackers.

See “Backpacking Through the Otherworldly Scenery of Zion,” “Hiking Angels Landing: What You Need to Know,” “The 10 Best Hikes in Zion National Park,” and “The Best Hikes in Utah’s National Parks” at The Big Outside.

Score a popular permit using my
10 Tips For Getting a Hard-to-Get National Park Backcountry Permit.”

A young girl cross-country skiing the Biscuit Basin Trail through the Upper Geyser Basin in Yellowstone National Park.
My daughter, Alex, cross-country skiing the Biscuit Basin Trail through the Upper Geyser Basin in Yellowstone.

9. Exploring Yellowstone

Visiting the world’s first national park, Yellowstone, should be a requirement of American citizenship (and I would gladly contribute to a fund to make it affordable for every family). Besides the opportunity to see a range of wildlife that nearly mirrors what North America looked like before Columbus, you can watch geysers erupt and see natural hot springs, whistling fumaroles, bubbling mud pots, and some beautiful waterfalls.

I’ve visited many times, with my kids and before I had a family, in every season. It’s wonderful for everyone, at any stage in life, partly because so many of its highlight features can be seen on short walks. And to me, cross-country skiing the almost flat, 2.5 miles of trail through Yellowstone’s Upper Geyser Basin, past one-fourth of the active geysers in the world (and the greatest concentration of them), is one of the most fascinating experiences in the National Park System.

See my stories “The Ultimate Family Tour of Yellowstone,” “The Best Hikes in Yellowstone,” “Cross-Country Skiing Yellowstone,” and all stories about Yellowstone at The Big Outside.

Gear up smartly for your trips.
See the best-in-category reviews and expert buying tips at my Gear Reviews page.

 

The "kids raft" running Cliffside Rapid on Idaho's Middle Fork Salmon River.
The “kids raft” running Cliffside Rapid on Idaho’s Middle Fork Salmon River.

10. Rafting Idaho’s Incomparable Middle Fork Salmon River

For a complete package of sheer thrills, five-star scenery, immersion in a vast wilderness, beautiful campsites, repeated episodes of children shrieking with joy, and an experience guaranteed to be a family favorite that you’ll want to repeat—not to mention eating like every day was Thanksgiving—few trips we’ve taken as a family compare to our guided float down Idaho’s Middle Fork of the Salmon River.

Flowing like an artery through the heart of the second-largest federal wilderness in the continental United States, the nearly 2.4-million-acre Frank Church-River of No Return Wilderness, the Middle Fork is widely considered second only to the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon in terms of raw beauty. My family might argue it’s better—and we’ve take three Middle Fork trips.

See my stories “Reunions of the Heart on Idaho’s Middle Fork Salmon River” and “Big Water, Big Wilderness: Rafting Idaho’s Middle Fork Salmon River,” and all stories about river trips at The Big Outside.

See my All Trips List, all stories featuring my expert outdoors tips, and all stories about family adventures at The Big Outside.

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How to Get a Permit to Backpack the Teton Crest Trail https://thebigoutsideblog.com/how-to-get-a-permit-to-backpack-the-teton-crest-trail/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/how-to-get-a-permit-to-backpack-the-teton-crest-trail/#comments Mon, 01 Dec 2025 10:05:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=37275 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

For backpackers, the Teton Crest Trail really delivers it all: beautiful lakes, creeks, and waterfalls, high passes with sweeping vistas, endless meadows of vibrant wildflowers, a good chance of seeing wildlife like elk and moose, some of the best campsites you will ever pitch a tent in, and mind-boggling scenery just about every step of the way. And it’s a relatively beginner-friendly trip of 40 miles or less, which most people can hike in four to five days.

No wonder it’s so enormously popular—and there’s so much competition for backcountry permits.

In this story, I will offer tips on how to maximize your chances of getting a permit to backpack the Teton Crest Trail, sharing expertise I’ve acquired from at least two dozen trips in the Tetons and several on the Teton Crest Trail over more than three decades, including the 10 years I spent as Northwest Editor of Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


Lake Solitude, North Fork Cascade Canyon, Grand Teton National Park.
Lake Solitude in the North Fork of Cascade Canyon, Grand Teton National Park. Click photo for my expert e-book “The Complete Guide to Backpacking the Teton Crest Trail.”

See my story from my most-recent trip on it, “A Wonderful Obsession: Backpacking the Teton Crest Trail,” which requires a paid subscription to The Big Outside to read in full, including basic information on planning a TCT backpacking trip. For much more information and expert tips on planning this trip, get my top-selling e-book “The Complete Guide to Backpacking the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park.”

I’ve also helped many readers plan a backpacking trip in the Tetons and elsewhere, answering all of their questions and customizing an itinerary ideal for them. See my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you.

Please share any thoughts or questions about this story, or your own tips, in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

Find your next adventure in your Inbox. Sign up now for my FREE email newsletter.

A backpacker above the South Fork Cascade Canyon on the Teton Crest Trail, Grand Teton N.P.
Todd Arndt above the Schoolroom Glacier and the South Fork Cascade Canyon. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan this trip.

Apply the First Day Possible in January

For backpacking trips between May 1 and Oct. 31, permit reservations can be made at recreation.gov starting at 8 a.m. Mountain Time on Jan. 7, 2026, and up to two days before your trip start date. But go online to make your reservation right at 8 a.m. Mountain Time on the day reservations open because most campsites that are available to reserve, especially along the Teton Crest Trail, get booked up for the entire summer very quickly, often within minutes. Find more information at nps.gov/grte/planyourvisit/bcres.htm.

This point cannot be overemphasized: Given the huge demand for reservations and the fact that they get booked up so quickly, there’s effectively just one day every year—and for all practical purposes, just one brief window that may only last minutes—when you can reserve a permit for backpacking the Teton Crest Trail. Be prepared to reserve one then.

See my story “A Teton Crest Trail Permit Shouldn’t Be So Hard to Get.”

Click here now to get my expert e-book
“The Complete Guide to Backpacking the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park.”

Backpackers on the Teton Crest Trail on Death Canyon Shelf in Grand Teton National Park.
Backpackers on the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park. Click photo for my expert e-book to backpacking the Teton Crest Trail.

Be Flexible With Your Dates and Itinerary

As I write in my “10 Tips for Getting a Hard-to-Get National Park Backcountry Permit,” the single most-effective strategy for maximizing your chances of getting a permit for a popular trip during its peak season is to have flexibility with your dates and itinerary.

When going through the Grand Teton National Park backcountry permit reservation at recreation.gov , you will be able to check availability in real time for each camping zone on specific dates; thus, you will either finish the process with a permit, or you will be unable to finish the process and obtain a permit due to lack of availability on your dates.

A backpacker on the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking the Teton Crest Trail toward Paintbrush Divide.

Plan in advance how far you want to walk each day and begin the process with a specific, day-to-day itinerary planned out—but also with a range of possible starting dates and camping zone options.

Many backpackers will find hiking eight to 10 miles per day moderately difficult on the Teton Crest Trail—but the TCT is accessed via trails up canyons on the park’s east and west sides, with backpackers primarily using (from south to north) Granite, Death, Cascade, and Paintbrush canyons on the east. The topography generally creates a strenuous uphill day (or two) at the beginning of a trip and a long descent at the trip’s end. Some backpackers may want to build in short days, which also creates time for side hikes.

Select a Mountain Camping Zone for each night in the backcountry. The camping zones along the Teton Crest Trail within Grand Teton National Park are spaced out at easy to moderate distances for most backpackers to hike in a day; some, like the zones in the North and South Forks of Cascade Canyon, are close enough to provide relatively short hiking days. Keep in mind that each camping zone is roughly a few miles long, so where you camp within each zone will determine each day’s actual hiking mileage.

See a basic map of camping zones in the park’s backcountry camping brochure and my story “Tent Flap With a View: 25 Favorite Backcountry Campsites” for my two favorite areas to camp along the Teton Crest Trail.

I suggest side hikes and several itinerary options in my expert e-book “The Complete Guide to Backpacking the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park,” which provides great detail on everything you need to know to plan and pull off this trip, including when and how to get a permit.

Get the right gear for your trips. See “The 10 Best Backpacking Packs
and “The 10 Best Backpacking Tents.”

Wildflowers along the Teton Crest Trail, Grand Teton National Park.
Wildflowers along the Teton Crest Trail, Grand Teton National Park.

While your permit designates a specific camping zone each night, you are not assigned a specific site; you can choose any unoccupied campsite when you arrive in each zone. The boundaries of the camping zones are marked by small signs along the trail. In some zones, like the North Fork Cascade Canyon, individual campsites are marked by signs; in others, like Death Canyon Shelf, there are not marked sites, but you can select from numerous, established sites that have clearly been used before, to minimize impact.

There is a $20 non-refundable fee if you obtain a permit plus $7 per person per night. 

I’ve helped many readers plan an unforgettable backpacking trip on the Teton Crest Trail.
Want my help with yours? Find out more here.

A backpacker on the Teton Crest Trail.
Todd Arndt backpacking the Teton Crest Trail. Click photo to see “The 5 Best Backpacking Trips in Grand Teton National Park.”

Keep Your Group Small

Grand Teton National Park issues permits for standard campsites for backpacking parties up to six people; parties of seven to 12 must reserve the group site in each zone. Whether making a permit reservation in January or trying to get a walk-in permit (see below), keeping your party smaller than seven will improve your chances of getting a permit in the zones of your choice, because the park limits the total number of people permitted nightly for each zone.

Sunset Lake, along the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park.
Sunset Lake, along the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park. Click photo for my expert e-book to backpacking the Teton Crest Trail.

Try for a Walk-In Permit

You didn’t plan months in advance and now it’s too late to reserve a permit for camping zones along the Teton Crest Trail? There is a last resort: get a walk-in (or first-come) permit.

The park allows reservations for only about one-third of permits in advance—leaving two-thirds of backcountry camping available each night during the hiking season for people seeking walk-in permits, issued no more than one day in advance of starting a trip. Naturally, there’s high demand for walk-in permits. Show up at a park backcountry desk (there’s one in the park’s Craig Thomas Discovery & Visitor Center in Moose) at least an hour and ideally two or more hours before it opens, to get a spot near the front of the line.

Arrive there with a preferred hiking itinerary planned, including where you’d like to start and finish and camp each night, plus optional itineraries, and talk to a ranger about what’s available. You might get lucky and score a permit to start the same day. But expect to have to wait a day—if you’re fortunate enough to get a walk-in permit.

You can get the required bear canister on loan for free at the backcountry desk if you don’t have one. (See my favorite bear canister in my review of essential backpacking gear accessories.)

Get full access to all Teton Crest Trail stories and ALL stories at The Big Outside,
plus get a FREE e-book. Join now!

A backpacker on the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park.
David Gordon backpacking the Teton Crest Trail on Death Canyon Shelf.

Go Outside Peak Season

I’ve always been amazed at how few backpackers there are in the Tetons in September, when you can often enjoy perfect weather. The peak season for backpacking runs from whenever the higher sections of trail and the passes become mostly snow-free, usually by mid-July, through around Labor Day.

That’s also the period with the greatest demand for backcountry permits.

Although there is the possibility of your plans being ruined by an unusual early-season snowfall, choose dates after Labor Day and your chances of getting a permit are much better.

See my stories “5 Reasons You Must Backpack the Teton Crest Trail,” “A Wonderful Obsession: Backpacking the Teton Crest Trail,” “American Classic: The Teton Crest Trail,” “Walking Familiar Ground: Reliving Old Memories and Making New Ones on the Teton Crest Trail,” and “The 5 Best Backpacking Trips in Grand Teton National Park,” plus all stories about backpacking the Teton Crest Trail and about Grand Teton National Park at The Big Outside.

My Custom Trip Planning page explains how you can get my personal help planning this trip or any trip you read about at my blog.

After the Teton Crest Trail, hike the other nine of
America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips.”

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5 Reasons You Must Backpack the Teton Crest Trail https://thebigoutsideblog.com/5-reasons-you-must-backpack-the-teton-crest-trail/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/5-reasons-you-must-backpack-the-teton-crest-trail/#comments Mon, 01 Dec 2025 10:00:59 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=26181 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

On my first backpacking trip on the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park, camped on Death Canyon Shelf, a broad, boulder-strewn and wildflower-carpeted bench at 9,500 feet, I awoke to the sound of heavy clomping outside my tent. I unzipped the tent door to investigate—and saw a huge bull elk standing just outside my nylon walls.

As I’ve come to learn over at least two dozen trips to the Tetons since that first one over three decades ago, that elk encounter symbolized just one of several compelling reasons why every backpacker should move the Teton Crest Trail to the top of their to-do list: the wildlife. Where it occurred illustrates another reason: After years of backpacking all over the United States—including the 10 years I spent as a field editor for Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog—Death Canyon Shelf is still one of my all-time favorite backcountry campsites.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


Watching the sunset from a campsite in the North Fork Cascade Canyon, Grand Teton National Park.
Watching the sunset from a campsite in the North Fork Cascade Canyon, Grand Teton National Park.

And I certainly consider the Teton Crest Trail one of the 10 best backpacking trips in America. It’s one I keep going back to again and again. (Read about my most recent trip.)

I think the five reasons I lay out below will give you insights into questions you might have about this classic hike—and inspire you to go do it.

But know this important planning detail: The park begins accepting permit applications at recreation.gov starting at 8 a.m. Mountain Time on a specific date in early January. (The date changes every year and gets announced by late autumn. See “How to Get a Permit to Backpack the Teton Crest Trail” for details.) Apply then because most campsites along the TCT that are available to reserve for summer dates will disappear quickly—typically within minutes.

The park only issues reservations for about one-third of permits in advance, leaving two-thirds available each night during the hiking season for people seeking walk-in permits, which can be obtained no more than one day in advance of starting a trip. While there’s high demand for walk-in permits and popular camping zones will fill up first, it’s often possible to get a walk-in permit for a very good hike; and if you’re near the front of the line, perhaps for your first-choice route and camps.

My top-selling e-book “The Complete Guide to Backpacking the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park” will tell you everything you need to know to plan and pull off that trip. And I’ve helped many readers of my blog plan a successful and memorable backpacking trip in the Tetons. See my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can create a personalized trip plan ideal for you.

If you’ve backpacked in the Tetons or have other thoughts or suggestions about this trip, I’d appreciate you sharing those in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

Here are the five reasons every backpacker must hike the Teton Crest Trail.

A backpacker at Lake Solitude on the Teton Crest Trail, Grand Teton National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm at Lake Solitude in the North Fork Cascade Canyon. Click photo for my expert e-book to the Teton Crest Trail.

1. It’s Not Particularly Hard

Some big, wilderness parks are famous for steep, rugged terrain, high elevations, and/or severe weather. But with the exception of two or three long uphill slogs—like Paintbrush Divide from either direction, or climbing from the lower Death Canyon Trail to either Static Divide or Death Canyon Shelf—trails in the Tetons are not especially difficult. Most of the hiking is at elevations that flatlanders acclimate to fairly quickly and have no trouble with, other than occasional shortness of breath.

Like most of the Mountain West, the Tetons commonly see afternoon thunderstorms in summer, and snow can fall in September. But they generally receive stable, sunny weather with moderate temperatures during the peak hiking season, from mid-July through mid-September.

Click here now to get my expert e-book
“The Complete Guide to Backpacking the Teton Crest Trail.”

Don’t expect an easy stroll (and keeping your pack light has the biggest impact on comfort and fatigue). But we took our kids backpacking in the Tetons for the first time when they were eight and six, on a three-day, 20-mile loop from String Lake Trailhead up Paintbrush Canyon and down Cascade Canyon—probably the park’s most popular multi-day hike, and it includes the highest and hardest pass on the TCT. (Click here now to get my e-book to that trip, which is the best beginner-friendly backpacking trip in Grand Teton National Park.) They were 10 and eight when we took took them on a four-day hike on the TCT.

In truth, on much of the TCT, you follow a good footpath, traversing a high plateau and descending and ascending canyons that are rarely steep. It is certainly tiring but not exceptionally strenuous.

See my story “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”

Find your next adventure in your Inbox. Sign up now for my FREE email newsletter.

A moose along the Teton Crest Trail, North Fork Cascade Canyon, Grand Teton National Park.
A moose along the Teton Crest Trail in the North Fork Cascade Canyon. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan your trip.

2. There’s a Good Chance of Seeing Wildlife

I’ve seen elk (and heard them bugling in September), moose, deer, pronghorn antelope, marmots, and pikas in the Tetons. Both times I’ve backpacked with my family there, we’ve seen moose fairly close (though at a safe distance). There are black and grizzly bears in the Tetons, but bear encounters are not common; in all of my trips there, I’ve seen one black bear, and it ignored me hiking down the trail while it fed on berries a short distance away. You should take appropriate precautions, of course, and the park requires carrying bear canisters for food storage.

Look for elk, marmot, and pikas at higher elevations in summer, moose in wet areas (like Phelps Lake, the forks of Granite Canyon, Death Canyon, and the main stem and forks of Cascade Canyon), pronghorn and bison in Jackson Hole, and deer everywhere. Hit the trail early in the morning or explore from your campsite in the evening hours—and be quiet—for the best chances of seeing wildlife.

I’ve helped many readers plan an unforgettable backpacking trip on the Teton Crest Trail.
Want my help with yours? Find out more here.

A backpacker on the Teton Crest Trail in the Jedediah Smith Wilderness.
Todd Ardnt backpacking the Teton Crest Trail toward Alaska Basin. Click photo for my expert e-book to backpacking the Teton Crest Trail.

3. It’s Not Crowded

Most dayhikers do not venture as far as the more-remote sections of the Teton Crest Trail, and climbers focus largely on the Grand Teton and other high peaks in the park’s core. Consequently, you’ll see only other backpackers on much of the TCT, and those numbers are managed to provide a wilderness experience. With the exception of a few spots that get busy at certain times of day—like misleadingly named Lake Solitude around midday in July or August, when dayhikers are streaming in, or Alaska Basin (which is actually outside the park, but along the TCT) on summer weekends, and in campsites in mornings and evenings—you will not see too many people in the Teton backcountry, especially after Labor Day.

Campsites are also fairly well spread out within the camping zones, keeping parties largely out of sight and earshot of one another.

See my “12 Expert Tips for Finding Solitude When Backpacking.”

Want a shorter trip? Click here now to get my expert e-book
“The Best Short Backpacking Trip in Grand Teton National Park.”

A backpacker on the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park.
David Gordon backpacking the Teton Crest Trail toward Paintbrush Divide.

4. It’s Not Experts-Only

Beginners who can read a map can backpack the TCT. Throughout Grand Teton National Park, you will find trails that are well-constructed, obvious, and clearly marked, including signs at junctions. You can hike moderate days and still complete a Teton Crest Trail trip in four days, or take an overnight or weekend trip on a section of it. In many ways, backpacking the Teton Crest Trail is relatively beginner-friendly.

Get good gear. See my picks for “The 10 Best Backpacking Packs
and “The 10 Best Backpacking Tents.”

A backpacker on the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park.
Todd Arndt above the South Fork Cascade Canyon in Grand Teton National Park.

5. It’s Drop-Dead Beautiful

However high your expectations may be from the many articles, photos, and videos of the Tetons readily available to anyone with wifi, a hike on the Teton Crest Trail will still wow you. From the campsites to the high passes, canyon bottoms, and virtually every step of the hike, the TCT offers a succession of soaring cliffs, vast fields of wildflowers (in mid-summer), waterfalls, and nearly constant but ever-changing views of one of the most dramatic and famous mountain skylines in America.

That’s why I consider it one of “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips.”

See my e-book “The Complete Guide to Backpacking the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park” and my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you plan your Teton Crest Trail trip.

Get full access to all Teton Crest Trail stories and ALL stories at The Big Outside,
plus get a FREE e-book. Join now!

See all stories at The Big Outside about Grand Teton National Park and backpacking the Teton Crest Trail (which require a paid subscription to read in full), including:

A Wonderful Obsession: Backpacking the Teton Crest Trail
How to Get a Permit to Backpack the Teton Crest Trail
Walking Familiar Ground: Reliving Old Memories and Making New Ones on the Teton Crest Trail
The 5 Best Backpacking Trips in Grand Teton National Park
10 Great Big Dayhikes in the Tetons

See a menu of all stories about national park adventures at The Big Outside.

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12 Pro Tips For Staying Warm Outdoors in Winter https://thebigoutsideblog.com/12-pro-tips-for-staying-warm-outdoors-in-winter/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/12-pro-tips-for-staying-warm-outdoors-in-winter/#comments Sun, 30 Nov 2025 10:00:08 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=7579 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Staying warm while skiing or riding at resorts or in the backcountry, Nordic skiing, snowshoeing, hiking, or running in winter is a constant challenge: We sweat, our clothes get damp, and then we have periods of reduced exertion like riding a ski lift or walking or running downhill, when we cool down. But as humans have known for thousands of years, it’s a matter of smartly managing and insulating our body’s furnace (and today we have much better technical clothing than animal skins).

As a longtime skier (downhill, Nordic, and backcountry), hiker, and trail runner who runs hot when moving, cools off quickly, and gets cold fingers and toes easily—just like many people—I’ve learned many tricks over four decades of getting outdoors in frigid temperatures and working for many years as a past field editor for Backpacker magazine and running this blog.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A backcountry skier in the Galena Summit area, Idaho.
My son, Nate, backcountry skiing in the Galena Summit area, Idaho. Click photo to see “The Best Gloves for Winter—and All Seasons.”

In fact, my coldest winter experience was camping on a couple of nights that dropped to -30° F/-34° C in New Hampshire’s White Mountains. (I don’t recommend it.) Most people, of course, don’t face extreme conditions in winter. But even in the temperatures most of us encounter in whatever form of recreation we enjoy in the coldest season, we’ve all known moments of wishing we felt warmer—and sometimes those moments last longer than we’d prefer. Follow these tips and you will be vastly more comfortable when enjoying the outdoors in winter.

Please tell me what you think of my tips, ask any questions, or share your own tricks in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments. Thanks.

A Nordic skier in Idaho's Boise Mountains.
My wife, Penny, Nordic skiing in Idaho’s Boise Mountains.

1. Move

Clothing does not produce heat, it only helps trap the heat that your body produces and protects you from wind and precipitation. Anytime you get cold, the single best strategy for rewarming is to start moving or increase your pace. Watch others in your group for signs that they’re cold, especially children, who have less body fat and mass and cool off more quickly than adults. When you take a break, make it short, to avoid cooling off. If someone has visibly cooled off faster than others during a break, have that person start moving ahead of the group; you will regroup before long.

What touches your skin matters. See my picks for the best base layers for any season.

A backcountry skier at Baldy Knoll in Wyoming's Teton Range.
A backcountry skier at Baldy Knoll in Wyoming’s Teton Range.

2. Pace Yourself

Minimizing how much you perspire in cold temperatures is critical to keeping warm, because wet clothing conducts heat away from your body. Try to set a pace that keeps you warm without causing you to overheat and perspire heavily. I try to strike a balance between producing enough heat to keep my toes and fingers warm without sweating copiously in my core; the optimum pace usually accelerates my heart and respiration rates to comfortable levels without me struggling for breaths.

If sweating is unavoidable because of your activity level, there may still be moments when that level drops—such as a transition from moving uphill to moving downhill. Try to smooth out that transition by slowing to a pace at which you stop or reduce your sweating but still generate enough body heat to at least begin drying your base layers. Drier base layers will help prevent a sudden chill when your activity level declines. (When camping in winter, I do that about 20 minutes before stopping to camp.)

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Backcountry skiers skinning uphill on a mild winter day in the Smoky Mountains above Idaho's Wood River Valley.
My daughter, Alex, and son, Nate, skinning uphill on a mild winter day in the Smoky Mountains above Idaho’s Wood River Valley.

3. Adjust Layers

Sometimes, whether climbing uphill on backcountry skis or snowshoes or in high-exertion activities like running or Nordic skiing, it’s impossible to avoid sweating, so adjust your clothing layers. For example, if there’s no wind and you’re exerting hard, you may only need a breathable insulation layer (like fleece) over a fast-drying, wicking base layer. If it’s windy, you may want a waterproof-breathable hard shell over a midweight insulation layer, like a fleece or a vest, to prevent you from cooling down.

For a high-exertion, high-speed activity like Nordic skiing, where your motion creates wind against your body, or a moderate-level activity like snowshoeing, wear a somewhat windproof and more breathable soft shell or a jacket with breathable insulation, to prevent excessive sweating and move moisture off your base layer more quickly.

Find the right outer layer for your purposes and you may only have to adjust layers infrequently.

Keep your fingers warm and happy.
See “The Best Gloves For Winter—and All Seasons” and “The Best Mittens for Winter.”

A child cross-country skiing along the rim of the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone River in Yellowstone National Park.
My son, Nate, cross-country skiing along the rim of the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone River in Yellowstone National Park.

4. Eat More

Your body needs more fuel in freezing temperatures to keep your internal furnace burning when you’re out for more than about two hours. Eat high-fat snacks like chocolate, cheese, and nuts, because fat is a slow-burning fuel that keeps your body going for the long haul, which becomes even more important in the cold. Keep snacks handy so you can refuel frequently; feeling a chill or fatigue is often an indicator that your body needs food. If you eat energy bars for convenience (especially when wearing gloves), choose ones that pack plenty of protein and calories.

Be smart about winter. See “How to Dress in Layers for Winter in the Backcountry.”

5. Drink Up

In cold, dry conditions typical of winter, you become dehydrated more quickly than you realize, even if you’re not sweating much. Drink frequently. Carry a thermos with a hot drink. Add sugar to it (for quick energy) or a little dollop of butter for flavor and fat.

Read all of this story, including my best tips on staying warm outdoors in winter,
and ALL stories at The Big Outside, plus get a FREE e-book! Join now!

A backcountry skier in Oregon's Wallowa Mountains.
A backcountry skier in Oregon’s Wallowa Mountains.

6. Don’t Freeze Your Water

I use a hydration bladder in temps down into the mid-20s Fahrenheit without the hose or mouthpiece freezing—if I keep the pack on my body (which helps warm the hose, especially when it’s running through a tunnel in a shoulder strap of my pack, a design feature of many packs made for winter activities). I also make a point of blowing back into the hose after each time I drink, to clear water from the mouthpiece and hose, which are more likely to freeze than the water reservoir inside the pack, which is close to your back and warmed by your body heat.

But in colder temps, the hose will likely freeze, so use wide-mouth water bottles or double-wall bottles like Hydroflasks instead. Store uninsulated bottles in an insulated sleeve inside your pack, upside-down, so that when you hold them upright to drink from them, any ice that has formed will be at the bottom of the bottle. When camping in freezing temps, don’t leave a water bottle out or it might freeze solid (and take hours to thaw if it does at all). Either empty your bottles, or preferably, fill them with hot water and put them inside your sleeping bag as heaters.

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A backcountry skier touring in Idaho's Galena Summit area, overlooking the Boulder Mountains and Wood River Valley.
My son, Nate, backcountry touring in Idaho’s Galena Summit area, overlooking the Boulder Mountains and Wood River Valley.

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The 12 Best Down Jackets of 2026 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/review-the-10-best-down-jackets-of-2017/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/review-the-10-best-down-jackets-of-2017/#comments Tue, 25 Nov 2025 10:01:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=26062 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Whatever you need an insulated jacket for, there’s a down or synthetic puffy for your needs, within your budget. And whether you want a puffy jacket for outdoor activities like backpacking, camping, skiing, climbing, and hut treks, or just to keep you warm around town or at outdoor sporting events, this review will help you figure out how to choose the right jacket for your purposes, and it spotlights the best down and synthetic insulated jackets available today.

I selected the jackets covered in this review after extensive testing on backpacking, camping, backcountry ski touring, climbing and other backcountry trips. I’ve field-tested dozens of insulated jackets over three decades of testing and reviewing gear, formerly as the lead gear reviewer for Backpacker magazine for 10 years and even longer running this blog.

Technology has blurred the traditional lines between down and synthetics, with water-resistant down that traps heat even when wet—all but eliminating the weakness that had long been the Achilles heel of down—and synthetic insulation materials that approach the warmth-to-weight ratio and compressibility of down.

If you’d prefer, scroll past my buying tips to dive immediately into the jacket reviews.

If you have a question for me or a comment on this review, please leave it in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


The Himali Accelerator Down Jacket.
The Himali Accelerator Down Jacket in the White Goat Wilderness, Canadian Rockies.

How to Choose a Synthetic or Down Jacket

Insulated jackets today differ not only in type and amount of insulation, but also in water resistance, breathability, and as always, design features like the hood and pockets. When choosing between down and synthetic models, consider the usual conditions and temperatures in which you’ll use it—in other words, how wet and cold you expect to get, and your body type (how easily you get cold)—as well as the seasonal and activity versatility you require. Some questions to consider:

• Do you want one jacket for four seasons?
• Do you want it primarily for one or two activities like backpacking, camping, climbing, or skiing?
• Does it need to be breathable because you’ll wear it while on the move at times, or will you only wear it while relatively inactive in camp, when breathability doesn’t really matter?

And perhaps the most-important question: How warm an insulated jacket do you need for how, where, and when you will use it?

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The Featured Friends Eos Down Jacket.
The Featured Friends Eos Down Jacket on the John Muir Trail.

Some performance aspects of puffy jackets you should understand include:

Standard down feathers lose their ability to trap heat once wet, rendering down less practical in wet environments.

• The primary advantage of synthetic-insulation jackets is the ability to still trap warmth when wet—although the wetter the jacket, the less warm it will feel, especially once that dampness reaches your skin.

• However, some jackets are now made with water-resistant, or hydrophobic down feathers that greatly improve their ability to repel water, continue to trap heat when damp, and dry faster. And even those jackets that contain standard down often have a water-resistant shell fabric that repels light precipitation but isn’t designed to withstand a steady rain. (Read more on this below, under Which is Better, Down or Synthetic?)

• The down fill-power rating is a measure of the volume, in cubic inches, that one ounce of that down fills; in other words, an ounce of 800-fill power down will occupy 800 cubic inches of volume. Down feathers are separated during processing according to this measure.

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The Outdoor Research Helium Down Hoodie.
The Outdoor Research Helium Down Hoodie in Fish Canyon, Utah.

Higher fill-power ratings translate to more warmth per ounce of down, so if two jackets contain identical amounts of down by weight, the jacket with the higher fill-power rating will probably be warmer and more compressible (and more expensive). That said, of course, an ultralight 800-fill power jacket may not be as warm as a 700-fill power jacket that contains more down. The price of down jackets usually correlates with the quality of the down.

• Similarly, while synthetic insulation traditionally was not as lightweight and compressible as down, the best modern synthetics—including those reviewed below—have a warmth-to-weight ratio and compressibility that compares with mid-grade (700-fill) or better down.

• Some modern synthetic insulations are also constructed in a way that makes them more durable, although, for the most part, down retains the edge there.

Insulated jackets are usually sewn in one of two ways:

• So-called “sewn through” construction stitches the outer, shell fabric to the inner, liner fabric, creating pockets of down, but also potential cold spots at seams where there’s effectively no insulation. This method reduces a jacket’s weight and often its cost, and is practical in ultralight jackets for moderate temperatures (think summer in the mountains).

• The more-expensive method of creating so-called box baffles eliminates cold spots and makes a jacket look puffier, but adds weight and usually cost.

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The Patagonia Micro Puff Hoody.
The Patagonia Micro Puff Hoody in the Grand Canyon.

How Warm a Jacket Do You Need?

As I write in my blog post “How You Can Tell How Warm a Down Jacket Is,” an insulated jacket’s total weight offers a rough idea of how warm it is. But that’s certainly not precise. Warmth (and weight) will vary with factors like type, quality, and amount of insulation, the jacket’s construction, and whether it has a hood.

Still, with down and synthetic jackets, I look at the garment’s total weight as a general guideline to its warmth. Although I encounter exceptions to the following weight categories, they provide a starting point. These guidelines and temperature ranges also apply to my body’s metabolism (my tolerance for cold is probably a little higher than average), and they presume I’m wearing one or two base layers underneath the puffy that are appropriate to the season and temperatures.

Mountain Hardwear Ghost Whisperer 2 Down Hoody
Testing the Mountain Hardwear Ghost Whisperer 2 Down Hoody in Hells Canyon.

• When I’m going ultralight on summer backcountry trips, and I expect temps no lower than around 40° F, I bring a down or puffy jacket weighing seven to 11 ounces. If the temp drops lower, I supplement with my other layers or get in my sleeping bag when necessary.

• For trips when the temp could dip below freezing, I want a jacket that’s 12 to 16 ounces.

• For colder trips and in winter in the backcountry, my insulated jacket weighs roughly 16 to 22 ounces.

Having a hood certainly keeps you warmer and is worth the additional weight and cost. You should consider whether other layers in your clothing system already have a hood, and make sure that any two hoods you’re wearing together pair up well.

I usually consider a hood mandatory in temperatures near and below freezing, but less important on milder trips, when I’ll pack a hoodless, ultralight puffy jacket to reduce pack weight and because I’m bringing a hat, anyway. However, I also consider the activities for which I’ll use the jacket; for high-speed activities in cold temps, I usually wear a lighter, hoodless insulated jacket.

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Rab Microlight Alpine Down Jacket.
The Rab Microlight Alpine Down Jacket in the Wind River Range.

Which is Better, Down or Synthetic?

In my experience, if you compare a down and synthetic insulated jacket of the same weight and basic design—for example, assuming both have a hood—I still find that down feathers have the edge in pure warmth. I think that assessment bears out in the products listed below.

To simplify your choice between down and synthetic insulation, think of it this way:

• If you want a puffy jacket primarily for warmth when you’re inactive (say, in camp), and expect mostly dry conditions or to wear a rain shell over the puffy when needed, get a down jacket.
• Get water-resistant or hydrophobic down if it may occasionally have to endure a light shower. But many accounts and lab testing, hydrophobic down provides some water repellency and protection until it gets soaked—and most users will not encounter conditions where they would notice any difference in performance between hydrophobic down (whether in a jacket or a sleeping bag) and standard down. (See much more detail on this topic in a comment I posted at the bottom of this story, dated Sept. 13, 2022, responding to a reader’s question about hydrophobic down.)
• If you expect to often wear it in wet conditions, get a synthetic puffy.
• If you will wear it while active in wet conditions, get a synthetic puffy with breathable insulation.

I’ve ranked the following down and synthetic puffy jackets roughly in order from lightest to warmest in each of these two categories. Please share what you think of my review or any of the jackets covered here in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

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The Best Down Jackets

Mountain Hardwear Ghost Whisperer 2 Down Hoody.
Mountain Hardwear Ghost Whisperer 2 Down Hoody.

Mountain Hardwear Ghost Whisperer Down Hoody
$420, 8.8 oz./250g (men’s medium)
Sizes: men’s S-XXL, women’s XS-XL
rei.com

When my goal is minimizing pack weight on summer trips with cool but not freezing nights, I bring this wispy jacket. The 800-fill goose down delivers beaucoup warmth for a puffy jacket that’s barely over a half-pound, and the hood boosts its versatility for nights dipping into the 30s Fahrenheit (for some people). It has been my go-to insulation for summer backpacking in Utah’s High Uintas Wilderness, Nevada’s Ruby Crest Trail, the 96-mile Wind River High Route, and other trips.

When stuffed into one of the two roomy, zippered hand pockets, the jacket packs down to slightly larger than a liter bottle—and lofts up almost instantly. Even better, the 10-denier shell fabric consists of 100 percent recycled nylon ripstop, and the feathers are RDS-certified down—so this newest iteration of the Ghost Whisperer series is as light on the Earth as it is in your pack.

Read my full review of the Mountain Hardwear Ghost Whisperer/2 Down Hoody.

Mountain Hardwear’s Ghost Whisperer UL Hoody ($450, 6.7 oz./190g), whacks about two ounces/57 grams off its older sibling’s weight while excelling for many of the same reasons—and still has the hood and two zippered hand pockets. Read my review.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these affiliate links to purchase a men’s or women’s Mountain Hardwear Ghost Whisperer/2 Down Hoody at rei.com; a men’s Mountain Hardwear Ghost Whisperer UL Hoody at backcountry.com; a women’s Mountain Hardwear Ghost Whisperer UL Hoody at backcountry.com; or other versions of the Ghost Whisperer down insulation at backcountry.com or rei.com.

Get warmth that stands up to winter temps, water-resistant insulation, and a fit aided by stretch materials in the Mountain Hardwear StretchDown Jacket ($290, 1 lb. 2 oz.). Hardwear’s 750-fill Q.Shield down repels moisture and retains loft when wet, and the unique, stretch-welded channel construction moves with you and traps heat more efficiently than jackets with standard stitching. You can support my blog, at no cost to you, but clicking either of these affiliate links to purchase a men’s or women’s Mountain Hardwear StretchDown Jacket or Hooded Jacket at backcountry.com or rei.com.

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The Black Diamond Approach Down Hoody.
The Black Diamond Approach Down Hoody.

Black Diamond Approach Down Hoody
$429, 10 oz./284g (men’s medium)
Sizes: men’s S-XL, women’s XS-XL
backcountry.com

Wearing BD’s Approach Down Hoody on cool, very windy evenings and mornings down to the 40s Fahrenheit backpacking in the Grand Canyon and similar temps backpacking in the Wind River Range, I stayed both perfectly warm and happy that I’d packed a very light puffy that didn’t compromise on warmth or features.

Barely more than an ounce heavier than Hardwear’s Ghost Whisperer/2, the Approach bests it with features found in heavier down jackets, like a chest pocket and a hood that adjusts with a one-hand drawcord and stays in place when turning your head side to side. Stuffed with 800-fill power, water-resistant goose down, it has high warmth for its weight and won’t lose loft when damp—expanding its usefulness from three-season backpacking to active insulation in cold temps. Plus, it boasts green cred with fluorocarbon-free, RDS-certified down and a PFC-free and water-free DWR on the 10-denier by 7-denier nylon woven shell fabric that’s more durable than traditional DWRs.

Read my full review of the Black Diamond Approach Down Hoody.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking either of these affiliate links to purchase a men’s or women’s Black Diamond Approach Down Hoody at backcountry.com or rei.com.

Planning your next big adventure? See “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips
and “The 25 Best National Park Dayhikes.”

The Featured Friends Eos Down Jacket.
The Feathered Friends Eos Down Jacket.

Feathered Friends Eos Down Jacket
$409, 11 oz./312g (men’s medium)
Sizes: men’s XS-XXL, women’s XS-XL
featheredfriends.com

If it ain’t broken, don’t fix it. In updating its Eos Down Jacket, Feathered Friends made just two minor improvements. Testing the Eos on a windy and chilly June trip in Idaho’s City of Rocks and on cool, windy evenings and mornings in August on the John Muir Trail, I found it just as warm and comfortable as I found the previous version in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains, Glacier National Park, and countless other wild places.

Stuffed with 900+-fill goose down and weighing just 11 ounces, the Eos has a warmth-to-weight ratio matched by few competitors. The 12-denier by 20-denier Pertex Quantum shell sheds light precipitation. The updated Eos placed the zippered chest pocket behind a flap and made the warm hood adjustable using drawstrings; it still features two zippered hand pockets, elasticized cuffs, and a drawcord hem. A great fit, superior warmth and packability make it an excellent choice for three-season trips.

Read my full review of the 2022 Feathered Friends Eos Down Jacket.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking either of these affiliate links to purchase a men’s Feathered Friends Eos Down Jacket at featheredfriends.com, or a women’s Feathered Friends Eos Down Jacket at featheredfriends.com.

Looking for a more affordable down jacket?
Check out the REI 650 Down Jacket. Read my review.

The Rab Mythic Alpine Down Jacket.
The Rab Mythic Alpine Down Jacket.

Rab Mythic Alpine Down Jacket
$390, 11 oz./313g (men’s mediumSizes: men’s S-XXL, women’s XS-XL
backcountry.com

A weeklong backpacking trip in Glacier National Park in mid-September presented a quandary: Trimming all superfluous weight from my pack (which began the hike with 14 pounds of food weight) and staying warm in temperatures dropping to near freezing. Rab’s Mythic Alpine Down Jacket achieved both goals—while weighing less than most comparably warm puffy jackets.

Stuffed with hydrophobic, 900-fill goose down, it has one of the highest warmth-to-weight ratios you’ll find in any down jacket—especially for a water-resistant model—as well as being highly packable. With an adjustable hood that really boosts warmth, and stitch-through baffle construction, it’s one of the lightest down jackets that can handle most three-season trips. The 10-denier ripstop, 100 percent recycled Pertex Quantum shell is the lightest shell fabric used in insulated jackets, but it’ll last, as long as you exercise reasonable care with it.

Read my full review of the Rab Mythic Alpine Down Jacket.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these affiliate links to purchase a men’s or women’s Rab Mythic Alpine Down Jacket at backcountry.com or a men’s or women’s Rab Mythic Alpine Light Down Jacket at backcountry.com.

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The Arc’teryx Cerium Hoody.
The Arc’teryx Cerium Hoody.

Arc’teryx Cerium Hoody
$400, 12 oz. (men’s medium)
Sizes: men’s XS-XXXL, women’s XXS-XXL
rei.com

From unseasonably cold and windy mornings near freezing in southern Arizona’s Aravaipa Canyon in mid-April to September campsites in Wyoming’s Wind River Range and mornings in the mid-20s in the first week of March in The Maze District of Canyonlands National Park, the Cerium Hoody has immediately warmed me in circumstances that push three-season conditions. While slightly edged out only by the Feathered Friends Eos and Helios in warmth-to-weight ratio, the Cerium adds another dimension of performance: It marries the high warmth-per-ounce and packability of 850-fill power down in the hood, sleeves, and torso, with lightweight, breathable, and compressible Coreloft synthetic insulation in areas like the shoulders and armpits, to keep it trapping heat even when wet.

A close-fitting, under-the-helmet, adjustable hood amps up the warmth. It has two zippered hand pockets, stuffs into a zippered inside pocket, and the shell fabric fends off light precipitation. With a comfortable, athletic fit that allows layering a couple of warm base layers underneath, the Cerium Hoody is a good choice for any three-season adventures or as a middle layer on winter adventures.

Read my full review of the Arc’teryx Cerium Hoody.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these affiliate links to purchase a men’s or women’s Arc’teryx Cerium Hoody at rei.com or arcteryx.com.

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The Himali Accelerator Down Jacket.
The Himali Accelerator Down Jacket in the White Goat Wilderness, Canadian Rockies.

Himali Accelerator Down Jacket
$345, 12.5 oz./354g (men’s medium)
Sizes: men’s S-XXL, women’s XS-XL
himali.com

On cool mornings and windy evenings in the low 40s Fahrenheit (4-6° C) in campsites while backpacking the Skyline Trail in Jasper National Park and the Nigel, Cataract, and Cline Passes Route in the White Goat Wilderness in the Canadian Rockies in August, my Himali Accelerator Down Jacket kept me perfectly warm over just one or two base layers. By many measures, this midweight puffy hits the target for three-season mountain adventures in its balance of weight, packability, warmth, materials and features—all at a competitive price for a high-quality down jacket.

Stuffed with four ounces of RDS-certified, 850-fill, water-resistant HyperDry down, the Accelerator delivers a very high warmth-to-weight ratio that competes with the few very best down jackets at this or any weight. Mapped synthetic insulation in the armpits along with the water-resistant down and DWR-coated, 20-denier Pertex Quantum ripstop nylon shell fabric help the Accelerator continue trapping body heat in wet weather. An adjustable hood, three zippered pockets (one inside), and a great fit arguably make it the ideal puffy for many backpackers, climbers, and four-season adventurers.

Read my full review of the Himali Accelerator Down Jacket.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these affiliate links to purchase a men’s hooded Himali Accelerator Down Jacket at himali.com, a women’s hooded Himali Accelerator Down Jacket at himali.com, a men’s non-hooded Himali Accelerator Down Jacket at himali.com, or a women’s non-hooded Himali Accelerator Down Jacket at himali.com.

Readers of The Big Outside get an exclusive 10 percent off any Himali purchase by using the discount code THEBIGOUTSIDE.

Need a super versatile fleece hoodie? See my reviews of the ultralight Himali Limitless Grid Fleece Hoodie and the warmer, remarkably breathable Himali Men’s Endeavor Fleece Hoodie. Those jackets, like all Himali products, qualify for the exclusive 10 percent off any Himali purchase for readers of this blog, using the discount code THEBIGOUTSIDE.

Buy smartly. Read my “10 Tips For Spending Less on Hiking and Backpacking Gear” and
Why and When to Spend More on Hiking and Backpacking Gear.”

Rab Microlight Alpine Down Jacket.
Rab Microlight Alpine Down Jacket.

Rab Microlight Alpine Down Jacket
$295, 15 oz./425g (men’s medium)
Sizes: men’s XXS-XXL, women’s XS-XXL
backcountry.com

When rain and chilly wind whipped through our campsites on evenings and mornings around 40° F in Wyoming’s Wind River Range, as well as on a late-September backpacking trip in Yosemite, the Microlight Alpine Down Jacket passed the test, thanks to features designed to fend off wet and raw conditions.

The hydrophobic, 700-fill goose down traps heat even when damp and dries faster than standard down, while the micro and nano stitch-through baffle construction helps reduce the jacket’s weight and cost. With a stiffened brim and close fit around your head, the adjustable hood boosts warmth substantially. The 30-denier Pertex Quantum ripstop nylon shell sheds light precipitation; paired with the hydrophobic down, it makes this a better (read: warmer) choice for wet weather than many down jackets. Green creds: The Microlight Alpine Jacket has a fully recycled shell, insulation, and lining. At this price, it’s a great value.

Read my full review of the Rab Microlight Alpine Down Jacket.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking either of these affiliate links to purchase a men’s or women’s Rab Microlight Alpine Down Jacket at backcountry.com or rei.com.

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The Outdoor Research Helium Down Hoodie.
The Outdoor Research Helium Down Hoodie.

Outdoor Research Helium Down Hoodie
$299, 15.4 oz./437g
Sizes: men’s S-3XL, women’s XS-XL, plus sizes 1X-4X
backcountry.com

On windy mornings and evenings in the deep shade of our camps in Owl and Fish canyons in southern Utah in early May, my Outdoor Research Helium Down Hoodie kept me quite warm in below-freezing wind chills—even when wearing only a lightweight wool T-shirt under it. This jacket’s 800+-fill down gives it a high warmth-to-weight ratio: At under a pound, it packs enough warmth to push the edges of peak seasons in the mountains and desert—or to keep people who get cold easily warm in typical morning and evening temperatures in the mountains in summer.

The wind-resistant Pertex Quantum nylon shell fabric gets a durability boost from Diamond Fuse technology. It also sets itself apart from many down jackets for the waterproof ripstop fabric at the hood, shoulders, and upper sleeves. The adjustable hood fits nicely and traps heat efficiently and three zippered external pockets plus two spacious internal stash pockets complete a rich feature set. All this at a price that’s hard to beat for this level of quality.

Read my full review of the Outdoor Research Helium Down Hoodie.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these affiliate links to purchase a men’s or women’s Outdoor Research Helium Down Hoodie at backcountry.comoutdoorresearch.com, or rei.com.

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The Feathered Friends Helios Hooded Down Jacket.
The Feathered Friends Helios Hooded Down Jacket.

Feathered Friends Helios Hooded Jacket
$489, 1 lb. 1 oz./482g (men’s medium)
Sizes: men’s XS-XXL
featheredfriends.com

On winter nights in the single digits outside a yurt in Idaho’s Boise Mountains, and raw, wet spring mornings camped in Idaho’s City of Rocks, this fat down jacket felt crazy warm—especially for its weight and surprising packability, spotlighting its versatility as an outstanding down jacket that’s light and packable enough for sub-freezing temps or people who just get cold more easily on three-season trips.

The Helios is stuffed generously with nearly eight ounces (men’s medium) of 900+-fill down, the highest-quality down you can find, which explains its stratospheric warmth-to-weight ratio. The comfortable, adjustable hood seals nicely around the face to trap heat and fits over a climbing helmet. The water-resistant, 20-denier Pertex Endurance LT shell fabric repels light rain, and the jacket has two hand pockets with overlapping stretch flaps in lieu of a zipper, plus one small, zippered inside pocket.

Read my full review of the Feathered Friends Helios Hooded Down Jacket.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking this affiliate link to purchase a Feathered Friends Helios Hooded Down Jacket at featheredfriends.com or other Helios apparel at featheredfriends.com.


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The Patagonia Fitz Roy Down Hoody.
The Patagonia Fitz Roy Down Hoody.

Patagonia Fitz Roy Down Hoody
$399, 1 lb. 1 oz./482g (men’s medium)
Sizes: men’s XS-3XL, women’s 2XS-2XL
backcountry.com

From backpacking trips in the Canadian Rockies and Oregon, hut treks in New Zealand, and spring and summer camping and climbing trips to countless days of resort skiing at Oregon’s Mount Bachelor and in Utah’s Wasatch Mountains, plus days of backcountry ski touring, my college-student daughter has stayed warm in Patagonia’s Fitz Roy Down Hoody in temperatures down to around freezing—while demonstrating this hooded jacket’s versatility.

The 800-fill-power down delivers good packability and warmth for the jacket’s weight; it’s warm enough for everything from sitting around camp on chilly nights while backpacking in the mountains in summer to using it as a layering piece for winter hikes or ski tours. The adjustable, helmet-compatible hood has a one-hand drawcord. The fitleaves room for a couple of warm base layers and/or light insulation. The jacket stuffs into one of the two zippered hand pockets and also has two zippered chest pockets and an internal drop pocket.

Read my full review of the Patagonia Fitz Roy Down Hoody.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these affiliate links to purchase a men’s Patagonia Fitz Roy Down Hoody at patagonia.com or rei.com, or a women’s Patagonia Fitz Roy Down Hoody at backcountry.com or rei.com.

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The Best Synthetic Jackets

The Patagonia Micro Puff Hoody.
The Patagonia Micro Puff Hoody.

Patagonia Micro Puff Hoody
$329, 10 oz./283.5g
Sizes: men’s XS-3XL, women’s XXS-XL
patagonia.com

In cool, strong wind from Idaho’s City of Rocks to multiple trips backpacking in the Wind River Range, the Grand Canyon, and elsewhere, the Micro Puff Hoody delivered more warmth than expected, given that it weighs slightly more than a half-pound. Patagonia’s water-resistant PlumaFill insulation matches the warmth-to-weight ratio of high-quality (800-fill power) down, while trapping heat when wet. That’s because it’s constructed as a continuous strand, which, combined with the jacket’s quilted construction, creates internal spaces that trap heat—imitating how down delivers so much warmth per ounce of insulation.

The water-resistant, windproof, 10-denier Pertex Quantum shell with a DWR shrugged off a couple of hours of very light rain in one camp. The comfortable, well-designed, non-adjustable, elasticized hood clings snugly around your face and fits under a helmet. Appealing to ultralighters and anyone seeking one of the lightest, most packable puffy jackets, the Micro Puff excels for three-season backpacking and camping in moderate temps.

Read my full review of the Patagonia Micro Puff Hoody.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking either of these affiliate links to purchase a men’s or women’s Patagonia Micro Puff Hoody or other Micro Puff models at backcountry.com or patagonia.com.

Want a synthetic puffy that’s warmer than the Micro Puff Hoody? Made with 55 percent recycled polyester, the Patagonia Nano Puff Hoody ($289, 13 oz.) features water-resistant PrimaLoft Gold Insulation Eco, which has a warmth-per-ounce ratio similar to mid-grade down, and the jacket zips into its inside chest pocket.

And check out my go-to fleece, the Patagonia R1 Air Full-Zip Fleece Hoody ($189, 12.5 oz./354g).

What touches your skin matters, too. See my picks for the best base layers for any season.

The Black Diamond First Light Stretch Hoody.
The Black Diamond First Light Stretch Hoody.

Black Diamond First Light Stretch Hoody
$299, 14 oz./397g
Sizes: men’s S-XL, women’s XS-XL
blackdiamondequipment.com

Temperatures around 40° F in campsites in Montana’s Beartooth Mountains proved the warmth of BD’s First Light Stretch Hoody. But this jacket’s synthetic stretch insulation makes it potentially the only insulated jacket you need for a variety of activities year-round, from summer backpacking trips in the mountains to backcountry touring, climbing, snowshoeing, resort skiing, and hiking in winter.

The packable, migration-resistant Primaloft Gold Active insulation offers some breathability during activity and traps heat even when wet from precipitation or perspiration—which becomes particularly beneficial when moving in temps well below freezing. The adjustable hood fits over a helmet, the stretch liner and shell and gusseted underarms provide excellent range of motion, with space for a couple of base layers and a lighter insulated piece, and the jacket stuffs inside one zippered pocket. Consider this a quiver-of-one puffy jacket for bridging three-season backpacking and winter days in the mountains.

The Black Diamond First Light Hybrid Hoody ($299, 12.7 oz./361g) replaces the Primaloft insulation throughout the jacket’s body with Merino wool in the sides and back, for more breathability.

Read my full review of the Black Diamond First Light Stretch Hoody.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these affiliate links to purchase a men’s or women’s Black Diamond First Light Stretch Hoody or First Light Hybrid Hoody at blackdiamondequipment.combackcountry.com, or rei.com.

See all reviews of insulated jackets and outdoor apparel at The Big Outside. And don’t miss “The Best Backpacking Gear” of the year.

Whether you’re a beginner or seasoned backpacker, you’ll learn new tricks for making all of your trips go better in my “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” A Practical Guide to Lightweight and Ultralight Backpacking,” and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.” With a paid subscription to The Big Outside, you can read all of those three stories for free; if you don’t have a subscription, you can download the e-guide versions of “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” the lightweight and ultralight backpacking guide, and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”

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The Best Backpacking Gear of 2026 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/the-best-backpacking-gear-of-2018/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/the-best-backpacking-gear-of-2018/#comments Sun, 23 Nov 2025 10:00:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=27582 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

The Wind River Range, Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains, and the Grand Canyon (all numerous times now). Utah’s High Uintas Wilderness, Montana’s Beartooths, and Colorado’s Weminuche. Glacier National Park and the Tetons. The Canadian Rockies. Southern Utah’s Owl and Fish canyons, Buckskin Gulch, and Paria Canyon. The John Muir Trail and Wonderland Trail. Iceland’s Laugavegur and Fimmvörðuháls trails. New Hampshire’s Presidential Range and New Zealand’s Milford Track, Routeburn Track, and Tongariro Alpine Crossing.

These are just some of the places where I’ve recently tested the backpacking gear and apparel that I’ve reviewed at The Big Outside—so that I can give you honest and thorough, field-tested opinions that help you find the best gear for your adventures.

And that’s exactly how I came up with the following picks for today’s best backpacking gear.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A backpacker in the Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne River in Yosemite National Park.
Todd Arndt backpacking in the Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne River in Yosemite. Click photo to see “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips.”

Three decades of testing outdoor gear and apparel—including formerly as the lead gear reviewer and Northwest Editor of Backpacker magazine for 10 years and even longer running this blog—have refined my ability to identify gear that’s truly outstanding, at the cutting edge technologically, and a good value.

In this freshly updated review, I share my top picks for a basic backpacking gear kit, from several of the best packs, tents, boots, and sleeping bags, including suggestions for backpackers on a budget—because everyone has different needs and preferences—to a favorite rain shell, the best trekking poles, down jackets, and air mattresses, the camp kitchen, and water treatment.

Much of the gear in this story links to my complete review of it, where you can get more details and find links to online retailers for purchasing it. Purchasing through the “Buy it now” affiliate links below or affiliate links in each complete review supports my work on The Big Outside, at no cost to you—in fact, you’ll usually find the best prices at those links. Thank you for doing that.

A backpacker on the Teton Crest Trail in the North Fork Cascade Canyon, Grand Teton National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking the Teton Crest Trail. Click photo to see all of my e-books to classic backpacking trips, including “The Complete Guide to Backpacking the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park.”

Please share your questions or thoughts on my gear picks in the comments section at the bottom of this story; I try to respond to all comments. And please forward this story to other backpackers you think might find it useful.

Want to read about the many places I’ve backpacked while testing gear? See my All Trips List or use the search box (main menu, above), and check out my e-books to America’s best backpacking trips, including the Teton Crest Trail and The Best First Backpacking Trip in Yosemite, and my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you plan your next great backpacking trip.

Click on any product name to read its review. Click any “Buy it now” link to purchase it.

A backpacker above Toxaway Lake, Sawtooth Mountains, Idaho.
My wife, Penny, high above Toxaway Lake in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains. Click photo to to learn how I can help you plan your next backpacking trip.

Backpacks

Best Overall: Osprey Atmos AG 65 (buy it now) and Aura AG 65 (buy it now), both $370, 4 lbs. 11 oz./2.13kg.
Best Weight-to-Performance Ratio: Granite Gear Blaze 60, $300, 3 lbs. 4 oz./1.47kg. Buy it now.
Best Price-to-Performance Ratio: Gregory Paragon 60 (buy it now) and Maven 58 (buy it now), $270, 3 lbs. 12 oz./1.7 kg.
Best-Fitting Ultralight: Osprey Exos 58 (buy it now) and Eja 58 (buy it now), both $280, 2 lbs. 14 oz./1.3kg.
Best For Heavy Loads: Gregory Baltoro 65 (buy it now) and Deva 60 (buy it now), both $350, 4 lbs. 14 oz./2.21kg.

Find your next adventure in your Inbox. Sign up for my FREE email newsletter now.

The Hyperlite Mountain Gear Windrider 3400 ultralight backpack.
The Hyperlite Mountain Gear Windrider 3400 ultralight backpack in the Beartooth Mountains.

Best Ultralight Pack

Hyperlite Mountain Gear Windrider
$379, 1 lb. 15 oz./878.8g

Many ultralight packs lack the support for carrying more than about 25 pounds comfortably. HMG’s Windrider handles up to 35 pounds, its 55 liters deliver the capacity for a week between resupplies, and it weighs much less than some best-selling competitors. Its tough Dyneema Composite Fabrics is fully waterproof and built to survive the apocalypse. The fixed suspension comes in four sizes and the simple harness system works. Its minimalist design, durability, capacity, comfort, and low weight will appeal to many backpackers who prefer hiking over simply hauling.

Read my full review of the Hyperlite Mountain Gear Windrider and see all of my picks for the best ultralight backpacks.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking this affiliate link to purchase a Hyperlite Mountain Gear Windrider at hyperlitemountaingear.com.

I’ve helped many readers plan unforgettable backpacking and hiking trips.
Want my help with yours? Click here now.

The MSR FreeLite 2 backpacking tent.
The MSR FreeLite 2 ultralight tent in a camp on the Nigel, Cataract, and Cline Passes Route in the White Goat Wilderness of the Canadian Rockies.

Tents

Best Two-Door Tent That Pitches with Trekking Poles: Slingfin 2Lite, $505, 2 lbs. 10 oz./1.19kg. Buy it now.
Best 2-Person Ultralight: MSR Freelite 2, $465, 2 lbs./907.2g. Buy it now.
Sturdiest and Roomiest 2-Person Ultralight: Hyperlite Mountain Gear Ultamid 2, $699, 1 lb. 2 oz./510.3g. Buy it now.
Best Solo Ultralight: Hyperlite Mountain Gear Mid-1, $599, 16.8 oz./476.3g. Buy it now.
Best Value Solo Ultralight: Gossamer Gear The One, $255, 1 lb. 2 oz./510g. Buy it now.

Great Balance of Space, Features, and Weight

Big Agnes Copper Spur HV UL2
$550, 2 lbs. 11 oz./1.22kg

The Big Agnes Copper Spur HV UL2 in Utah's High Uintas Wilderness.
The Big Agnes Copper Spur HV UL2 in Utah’s High Uintas Wilderness.

For years, the Copper Spur HV UL2 has remained a leading choice for backpackers seeking an ultralight tent that doesn’t compromise on sturdiness or livability. While some would call it merely “lightweight,” semantics aside, it sports an abundance of features and space for a freestanding, two-door shelter well under three pounds, starting with the most conspicuous: two awning-style doors that can be set up in rain to allow cooling ventilation without getting wet inside or rolled up for maximum ventilation and stargazing. The DAC Featherlite hubbed poles create steep walls that make the tent feel roomier than its 29 square feet, 40-inch peak height, and 88-inch length. It pitches easily, the two vestibules are spacious and ventilation excellent, and the Copper Spur has abundant interior pockets. Very few freestanding, two-door tents strike such a space-to-weight balance.

Read my full review of the Big Agnes Copper Spur HV UL2.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these affiliate links to purchase a Big Agnes Copper Spur HV UL2 at backcountry.com or another version of the Big Agnes Copper Spur HV UL series at backcountry.com.

Get the right gear for your trips. See “The 10 Best Backpacking Packs
and “The 10 Best Backpacking Tents.”

Oboz Katabatic Mid Waterproof boots.
The Oboz Katabatic Mid Waterproof boots.

Shoes and Boots

Best Lightweight Shoes: Danner Trail 2650, $190, 1 lb. 7.5 oz./666.2g Buy them now.
Best Lightweight Backpacking Boots: Scarpa Rush Mid GTX, $199, 2 lbs./907.2g Buy them now.
Best Midweight Backpacking Boots: Salewa Alp Trainer 2 Mid GTX, $250, 2 lbs. 5 oz./1.05 kg Buy them now.
Most Breathable and Sticky: La Sportiva TX3, $159, 1 lb. 9 oz./708.7g Buy them now.
Best Trail Running/Ultralight Hiking Shoes: Hoka One One Speedgoat 6, $155, 1 lb. 3 oz./538.6g Buy them now.
Killer Value: Oboz Katabatic Mid Waterproof, $180, 1 lb. 13 oz./822g Buy them now.

Let The Big Outside help you find the best adventures.
Join now for full access to ALL stories and get a free e-book!

Feathered Friends Hummingbird UL 30 sleeping bag.
Feathered Friends Hummingbird UL 30 sleeping bag.

Sleeping Bags

Best Down Bags: Feathered Friends Hummingbird and Egret UL, $549-$629, 1 lb. 5 oz.-1 lb. 9 oz./595.3g.-708.7g. Buy a Hummingbird UL 30 or 20 now or an Egret UL 30 or 20 now.
Mountain Hardwear Phantom 30, $510-$540, 1 lb. 6 oz./623.7g-669g. Buy a Mountain Hardwear Phantom 30 now.
Marmot Hydrogen 30, $399-$419, 1 lb. 9.4 oz.-1 lb. 11 oz./720g-770g. Buy a Marmot Hydrogen 30 now.
Sea to Summit Spark Pro -9C/15F, $649-$689, 1 lb. 11 oz.-1 lb. 14 oz./765.4g-861g, and Spark Pro -1C/30F, $549-$579, 1 lb. 6 oz.-1 lb. 8 oz./619g-672g. Buy a Sea to Summit Spark Pro now.
Best Ultralight: Therm-a-Rest Hyperion 32 or Hyperion 20, $430-$580, 15 oz.-1 lb. 6 oz./425.2g.-623.7g. Buy it now.
Best Winter Bag: Mountain Hardwear Phantom 0, $700-$740, 2 lbs. 7 oz.-2 lbs. 11 oz./1.11kg.-1.22kg. Buy it now.
Best Budget Sleeping Bag: Kelty Cosmic Synthetic 20, $110-$120, 3 lbs./1.36kg. Buy it now. Or Kelty Cosmic Down 20, $170-$200, 2 lbs. 7 oz./1.11kg. Buy it now.

Plan your next great backpacking adventure using my expert e-books.
Click here now to learn more.

The Mountain Hardwear Bishop Pass 30 sleeping bag.
The Mountain Hardwear Bishop Pass 30 sleeping bag.

Best Value Down Bag

Mountain Hardwear Bishop Pass 30F/-1C
$265-$285, 1 lb. 12 oz./793.8g

When shopping for sleeping bags, it’s helpful to compare certain key specs: temperature rating, type and amount of insulation (or fill), total weight, and, of course, the price. Using those metrics, the Mountain Hardwear Bishop Pass 30F/-1C looks really good, with RDS-certified, flourine-free, 650-fill-power down, enough warmth for many backpackers on typical overnight temps of summer in most mid-latitude mountain ranges (except for people who tend to get cold more easily), and a cut that delivers more generous space than many bags—all at a weight south of two pounds and it packs down to 7×13.5 inches. Among down bags, this is a good price for a bag of this quality. It also comes in 15-degree and 0-degree versions.

Read my full review of the Mountain Hardwear Bishop Pass 30. 

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these affiliate links to purchase a men’s or a women’s Mountain Hardwear Bishop Pass 30F at backcountry.com, or other versions of the men’s and women’s Bishop Pass bags at backcountry.com.

Click on any product name to read its review. Click any “Buy it now” link to purchase it.

The Black Diamond Fineline Stretch Shell and Fineline Stretch Full-Zip Pants on New Zealand's Milford Track.
The Black Diamond Fineline Stretch Shell and Fineline Stretch Full-Zip Pants on New Zealand’s Milford Track.

Best Rain Shells

Black Diamond Fineline Stretch Shell
$189, 10 oz./283.5g
Black Diamond Fineline Stretch Full-Zip Pants
$179, 9 oz./255.1g

Few places test rain gear as brutally as New Zealand’s Fiordland National Park, where rain is almost as prevalent as oxygen. In some of the heaviest and most relentless wind-driven rain I’ve encountered over four decades of hiking and backpacking, on two classic hut treks and one long dayhike—the Routeburn Track and Milford Track and the Tongariro Alpine Crossing—Black Diamond’s Fineline Stretch Shell and Full-Zip Pants performed impressively.

For two straight days and most of a third day on the Milford, the jacket and pants never left my body. While water did penetrate both layers in spots—and in fairness, I believe those conditions would overwhelm any high-quality waterproof-breathable shells (and companions with Gore-Tex shells suffered the same fate)—they prevented me from getting soaked and cold. Credit goes to BD’s 2.5-layer BD.dry waterproof/breathable/windproof technology, which also has adequate breathability for all but very warm three-season trips.

With a one-hand-adjustable, climbing-helmet-compatible hood, the DWR-sealed pit zip vents, a waterproof front zipper, tough 50-denier fabric, and two zippered hand pockets—all at just $180 and 10 ounces/283.5 grams (men’s medium)—the Fineline Stretch Shell is a full-on technical, three-season rain shell.

Read my complete review of the Black Diamond Fineline Stretch Shell and Fineline Full-Zip Pants.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these affiliate links to purchase a men’s Black Diamond Fineline Stretch Shell at blackdiamondequipment.combackcountry.com, or rei.com; a women’s Black Diamond Fineline Stretch Shell at blackdiamondequipment.combackcountry.com, or rei.com; the men’s Black Diamond Fineline Stretch Full-Zip Pants at blackdiamondequipment.combackcountry.com, or rei.com; or the women’s Black Diamond Fineline Stretch Full-Zip Pants at blackdiamondequipment.combackcountry.com, or rei.com.

See all of the latest gear reviews at The Big Outside.

The Featured Friends Eos Down Jacket.
Testing the Featured Friends Eos Down Jacket on the John Muir Trail.

Down Jackets

Best Down Jacket: Feathered Friends Eos Down Jacket, $409, 11 oz./311.8g Buy it now.
Best Synthetic Jacket: Black Diamond First Light Stretch Hoody, $349, 14 oz./397g Buy it now.
Best Ultralight Down Jacket: Mountain Hardwear Ghost Whisperer/2 Down Hoody, $360, 8.8 oz./249.5g Buy it now.
Best Ultralight Synthetic Jacket: Patagonia Micro Puff Hoody, $329, 9 oz./255.1g Buy it now.
Versatile Down Jacket: Rab Microlight Alpine Down Jacket, $295, 15 oz./425.2g Buy it now.

Which puffy should you buy? See “The 12 Best Down Jackets” and
How You Can Tell How Warm a Down Jacket Is.

Black Diamond Distance Carbon FLZ trekking and running poles.
Black Diamond Distance Carbon FLZ trekking and running poles.

Trekking Poles

Best Overall: MSR Dynalock Ascent, $190, 1 lb. 1 oz./481.9g Buy it now.
Best Ultralight: Black Diamond Distance Carbon FLZ, $210, 12.7 oz./360g Buy it now.
Most Versatile: Leki Makalu FX Carbon, $230, 1 lb. 1.9 oz./508g Buy it now.

Need a good headlamp? See “The Best Headlamps.”

Using the Pump Sack to inflate the Therm-a-Rest NeoAir XLite NXT air mattress.
Using the Pump Sack to inflate the Therm-a-Rest NeoAir XLite NXT air mattress.

Air Mattresses

Best All-Around Air Mat: Sea to Summit Ether Light XT Insulated and XT Extreme, $219-$249, 1 lb. 1 oz.-1 lb. 9 oz./482-709g. Buy it now.
Best Comfort-to-Weight Balance: Nemo Tensor Insulated Air Mattress, $200-$230, 13 oz.-1 lb. 5 oz./369-595g. Buy it now.
Best Ultralight: Therm-a-Rest NeoAir XLite NXT, $200-$240, 11.5 oz.-1 lb. 1 oz./326-482g. Buy it now.
Best Inflatable Pillow: Sea to Summit Aeros Pillow Ultra Light, $50-$55, 2.5 oz./71g. Buy it now.

What do you really need for backpacking?
See my “Essentials-Only Backpacking Gear Checklist.”

The MSR WindBurner Group Stove System.
The MSR WindBurner Group Stove System.

Camp Kitchen

Best Ultralight Pot: MSR Titan Kettle 1400ml, $70, 5.4 oz./153g, or Titan Kettle 900ml, $65, 4.4 oz./126g. Buy it now.
Best Cook Set: Sea to Summit Frontier Ultralight Collapsible One-Pot Cook Set, $146, 19 oz./527g. Buy it now.
Best Solo Stove: Jetboil Flash, $145, 13 oz./369g. Buy it now.
Best Family/Group Stove: MSR Windburner Group Stove System, $260, 1 lb. 4 oz./567g. Buy it now.
Best Bear Canister: Bear Vault BV500, $95, 2 lbs. 8 oz./1.1kg. Buy it now.

Buy smart with my pro tips on buying a backpack, backpacking tent,
hiking shoes or boots, a rain jacket, and a sleeping bag.

MSR PocketRocket 2
The MSR PocketRocket 2 stove.

Best Ultralight Stove

MSR PocketRocket 2
$50, 3 oz./85g (4 oz./113.4g with plastic case, included)

Backcountry stoves come in a variety of designs these days. But in many respects, the simplest design remains the most versatile and reliable, and the PocketRocket 2 continues to embody everything a backpacking stove should be. It fires up easily every time, boils water fast, has good flame control for wilderness gourmands, weighs next to nothing, and costs less than many of its best competitors.

Whereas some types of stoves have limitations on what you can cook with them, you can use the PocketRocket 2 for cooking almost anything, almost anywhere, for any size party (or more than one stove for a large group). That may explain why it’s so popular.

Read my full review. The PocketRocket Deluxe ($85) adds a piezo push-button igniter, but as with that feature on other stoves, its performance can be erratic.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking either of these affiliate links to purchase an MSR PocketRocket 2 at backcountry.com or cascadedesigns.com.

I can help you plan the best backpacking, hiking, or family adventure of your life.
Find out more here.

Katadyn BeFree 10L Gravity Filter.
Katadyn BeFree 10L Gravity Filter.

Water Treatment

Best Pump Filter: MSR Hyperflow, $150, 9 oz./255g. Buy it now.
Best Gravity Filter: Katadyn BeFree Gravity 6L or 10L Filter, $115-$145, 9-10 oz./255-284g. Buy it now.
Best Filter Bottle: Lifestraw Go, $35-$50, 650ml to 1L, 7.8-8.6 oz./221-244g. Buy it now.
Best Ultralight Personal Filter: Katadyn BeFree Water Filtration System 0.6L, 1L, or 3L bottle, $45-$80, 2.5-3.5 oz./71-99g. Buy it now.

Whether you’re a beginner or seasoned backpacker, you’ll learn new tricks for making all of your trips go better in my “12 Expert Tips for Planning a Backpacking Trip,” A Practical Guide to Lightweight and Ultralight Backpacking,” and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.” With a paid subscription to The Big Outside, you can read all of those three stories for free; if you don’t have a subscription, you can download the e-guide versions of “12 Expert Tips for Planning a Backpacking Trip,” the lightweight and ultralight backpacking guide, and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”

Was this review helpful? Get full access to ALL stories at The Big Outside.
Join now and a get free e-book! ]]> https://thebigoutsideblog.com/the-best-backpacking-gear-of-2018/feed/ 23 27582 5 Reasons You Must Backpack in Glacier National Park https://thebigoutsideblog.com/5-reasons-you-must-backpack-in-glacier-national-park/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/5-reasons-you-must-backpack-in-glacier-national-park/#comments Mon, 17 Nov 2025 10:23:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=50125 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Create a list of the attributes that constitute a great backpacking trip and the chances are very high that you will describe Glacier National Park. There’s the incomparable landscape, where the remnants of glaciers hang off craggy mountains, vertiginous cliffs tower above deeply green valleys carved in the classic U shape by ancient rivers of ice, and hundreds of mountain lakes reflect it all. And encounters with wildlife like bighorn sheep, mountain goats, elk, moose, and, yes, grizzly and black bears: Few places in the continental United States harbor such a breadth of megafauna.

Sprawling over a million acres in Montana’s Northern Rockies, most of it wilderness, Glacier exudes a sense of wildness and beauty that no longer exists in most of the country.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A backpacker above Oldman Lake along the Dawson Pass Trail in Glacier National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm high above Oldman Lake along the Dawson Pass Trail in Glacier National Park. Click photo to see all of my e-books describing classic backpacking trips in Glacier and other national parks.

Little wonder that this park remains so enduringly popular with backpackers. After more than three decades of backpacking all over the United States and more than a decade running this blog, having taken many of the best multi-day hikes out there—some of them, like Glacier, multiple times—I think that Glacier is, in many respects, the best. (See my lists of “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips” and “The 10 Best National Park Backpacking Trips”—and yes, of course, Glacier graces both lists.)

I’ve had the good fortune to get to know Glacier—and its extremely competitive permit system—very well.

A Glacier backpacking permit is one of the hardest to get in the National Park System. Glacier holds two early-access lotteries at recreation.gov/permits/4675321, on March 1 for large groups of nine to 12 people and on March 15 for standard groups of one to eight people. General reservations open for all remaining backcountry campsites on May 1, running through Sept. 30. Glacier makes 70 percent of backcountry campsites available for reservations and 30 percent of campsites available for walk-in permits no more than one day in advance. 

See “How to Get a Permit to Backpack in Glacier National Park” and “10 Tips for Getting a Hard-to-Get National Park Backcountry Permit.”

A backpacker on the Continental Divide Trail above Medicine Grizzly Lake in Glacier National Park.
Todd Arndt backpacking the Continental Divide Trail above Medicine Grizzly Lake in Glacier National Park. Click photo to see all stories about backpacking in Glacier at The Big Outside,

See also my expert e-books “The Best Backpacking Trip in Glacier National Park” and “Backpacking the Continental Divide Trail Through Glacier National Park,” both of which provide all you need to know to plan those trips, including detailed guidance on getting a high-demand backcountry permit, multiple itinerary options of varied lengths, the best campsites, plus expert advice on the ideal time of year, gear, and safety in bear country.

I’ve also helped many readers of my blog plan a very enjoyable backpacking trip designed specifically for them in Glacier. See my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can do that for you.

Want to explore Glacier on dayhikes? See “The 10 Best Dayhikes in Glacier National Park” and “The 8 Best Long Hikes in Glacier National Park.”

Please share your thoughts on this article—or your favorite hikes in Glacier—in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

Find your next adventure in your Inbox. Sign up now for my FREE email newsletter.

Bighorn sheep above the Redgap Pass Trail in Glacier National Park.
Bighorn sheep above the Redgap Pass Trail in Glacier National Park.

1. Well, There’s All Those Critters

On nearly every backpacking trip I’ve taken in Glacier, I have seen bighorn sheep, elk, moose, and both black and grizzly bears (the last from a safe distance—most of the time, with the exception of this encounter). I’ve seen mountain goats on every trip. Go in late summer or early fall and you may hear elk bugling every morning and evening (as I did on this mid-September trip).

While you can see all of those megafauna in some other parts of the Lower 48 and Alaska, very few places host such a density of them—which means you are more likely to see them in Glacier than other wildlands.

Every backpacker who walks through the wilderness of Glacier takes home a powerful sense of awe over this park—and a desire to return again and again.

Get my expert e-books to the best backpacking trip in Glacier
and backpacking the Continental Divide Trail through Glacier.

A backpacker hiking the Ptarmigan Tunnel Trail in Glacier National Park.
Pam Solon backpacking the Ptarmigan Tunnel Trail in Glacier National Park. Click photo for my e-book “The Best Backpacking Trip in Glacier National Park.”

2. And the Mountains and Lakes—Wow

The Blackfeet who’ve inhabited this area for centuries called these mountains “the backbone of the world.” In 1901, the American anthropologist, historian, naturalist, and writer George Bird Grinnell, in campaigning for the creation of Glacier National Park, coined the phrase “Crown of the Continent,” and it stuck.

Today, Glacier’s one million acres comprise just one piece of a contiguous, protected ecosystem spanning nearly 13 million acres across the U.S.-Canada border.

But those words and numbers fail to even come close to conveying the majesty of these peaks. The Rocky Mountain chain arguably reaches its full glory in the Northern Rockies of Glacier, where giant axe and knife blades of rock erupt from the earth, slicing into a sky often strikingly blue in summer.

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A hiker at Pitamakan Pass in Glacier National Park.
Todd Arndt at Pitamakan Pass, on the Continental Divide Trail in Glacier National Park. Click photo for my expert e-book to backpacking the CDT through Glacier.

More than 760 lakes dot Glacier’s landscape, many of them nestled among peaks so jaggedly dramatic that you’ll struggle to leave them—like Elizabeth Lake, Sue Lake, and Lake Ellen Wilson, to name just three that I list among the most gorgeous backcountry lakes I’ve ever seen.

Among Continental Divide Trail thru-hikers, the prevailing opinion is that the two greatest highlights of their multi-month trek were the Wind River Range and Glacier.

Of course, the best way to know this is to go and see for yourself.

Want my help planning any trip you read about at this blog?
Click here for expert advice you won’t get anywhere else.

A backpacker hiking the Continental Divide Trail toward Triple Divide Pass in Glacier National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking the Continental Divide Trail toward Triple Divide Pass in Glacier National Park.

3. It’s Not That Hard

Some big, mountainous parks are notorious for steep, rugged terrain, high elevations, and/or severe weather. But that’s not generally the case in Glacier. Most of the park’s trails are built at what’s called a “horse grade,” meaning never too steep for horses, which is less steep than many trails designed strictly for humans. Step for step, mile for mile, hiking here feels a bit easier than in many other parks.

A backpacker along the Continental Divide Trail in Glacier National Park.
Todd Arndt beside Red Eagle Creek, along the Continental Divide Trail in Glacier National Park.

Trail elevations in Glacier pose significantly less challenge than other parts of the Rockies or the High Sierra: With the highest passes on trails under 8,000 feet, most people feel little effects of altitude beyond shortness of breath hiking uphill.

Like most of the Mountain West, Glacier may see afternoon thunderstorms in summer, and snow can fall in September or even August, although that’s rare. But the park often sees stable, sunny weather with just about perfect temperatures during the peak hiking season of mid-July into mid-September, without as many biting insects as wetter climates.

Don’t expect an easy stroll (and keeping your pack light has the biggest impact on comfort and fatigue). But we took our kids backpacking in Glacier for the first time when they were nine and seven, on a three-day hike on the Gunsight Pass Trail—and they loved it.

The biggest challenge of backpacking in Glacier is staying safe in bear country—and park management all but eliminates the possibility of the most common mistakes people make, with designated backcountry campgrounds all equipped with bearproof food-hanging systems. That delivers another great benefit of relieving you of the weight of a bear canister that’s required in many other parks, from Grand Teton to Yosemite, the parks and national forests of the High Sierra, and other destinations.

See my story “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”

Planning your next big adventure? See “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips
and “Tent Flap With a View: 25 Favorite Backcountry Campsites.”

 

A backpacker on the Piegan Pass Trail in Glacier National Park.
Todd Arndt backpacking the Piegan Pass Trail in Glacier National Park. Click on photo to learn how I can help you plan your Glacier trip.

4. Finding Solitude and a Wilderness Experience

Sure, you will encounter other backpackers and dayhikers on some trails. But as in many major national parks, Glacier’s management limits the number of backcountry permits issued to backpackers. While virtually all available permits get claimed during the peak summer season, every time I’ve backpacked in Glacier, my party has enjoyed hours every day seeing few other people—especially the farther you hike from any road (and the park has very few roads).

See “10 Backpacking Trips for Solitude in Glacier National Park.”

Morning Star Lake in Glacier National Park.
Morning Star Lake in Glacier National Park.

Certain areas of the park attract the most visitors—including Logan Pass and Many Glacier. But in a park that spans over a million acres, mostly wilderness, it’s not hard to get away from the hordes, especially in more-remote areas like the North Fork, Goat Haunt, and Nyack/Coal Creek areas and even some sections of the Continental Divide Trail.

Yes, it’s hard to get a backcountry permit in Glacier—and that’s a good thing. The wilderness experience remains protected—and amplified by all the factors noted above.

Want deeper solitude? Follow tip no. 2 (“Go outside the peak season”) in my “12 Expert Tips for Finding Solitude When Backpacking” and backpack in Glacier in late September or early October, when average temperatures range from highs in the 50s and 60s Fahrenheit to lows in the 30s to around freezing. While precipitation is more likely than in August, September and October both average just over two inches of total precipitation—and none on two out of every three days—falling mostly as rain in September, while the shift to snow occurs sometime in October.

In other words, you can see snow in late summer and early fall, but the weather is dry more often than not, with moderately cool temps. Watch the forecast and take advantage of a good weather window.

Get the right gear for your trips. See “The 10 Best Backpacking Packs
and “The 10 Best Backpacking Tents.”

 

A backpacker hiking the Dawson Pass Trail in Glacier National Park.
Pam Solon backpacking the Dawson Pass Trail in Glacier National Park.

5. Because It Will Blow You Away

Backpacking my own variation of Glacier’s Northern Loop with two friends who’d never been to the park before, as we reached Piegan Pass—and a view that stopped us in our tracks—one of them remarked, with joking sarcasm, “I can’t see why you wanted to take us here, Mike. It’s not like there’s much to see.” And that was just our first day.

As was the case the first time I backpacked much of the Continental Divide Trail through Glacier with three other friends (I more recently hiked a slight variation of that same route), every day felt like a walk through a time 10,000 years before the present, when nature was pristine (mostly, although human-caused climate change is rapidly causing the park’s glaciers to melt away) and North America’s full complement of original animal species still roamed the mountains. Those two trips culminated with a crossing of the high and stunning Dawson Pass Trail from Pitamakan Pass to Dawson Pass, overlooking some of the biggest peaks and glaciers and most-remote wilderness in the park’s core—and seeing yet more bighorn sheep.

That’s what awaits you in Glacier. Go there.

See all stories about backpacking in Glacier at The Big Outside, including “10 Backpacking Trips for Solitude in Glacier National Park,” “Déjà vu All Over Again: Backpacking in Glacier National Park,” “Descending the Food Chain: Backpacking Glacier National Park’s Northern Loop,” “Wildness All Around You: Backpacking the CDT Through Glacier,” and “Jagged Peaks and Wild Goats: Backpacking Glacier’s Gunsight Pass Trail.” Like many stories at this blog, reading those in full requires a paid subscription to The Big Outside.

See also my expert e-books “The Best Backpacking Trip in Glacier National Park” and “Backpacking the Continental Divide Trail Through Glacier National Park,” and my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can plan your backpacking trip in Glacier.

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Not a Dull Moment: Backpacking Buckskin Gulch and Paria Canyon https://thebigoutsideblog.com/not-a-dull-moment-backpacking-buckskin-gulch-and-paria-canyon/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/not-a-dull-moment-backpacking-buckskin-gulch-and-paria-canyon/#comments Fri, 14 Nov 2025 12:43:13 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=68772 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

We haven’t hiked far down the sandy wash from the Wire Pass Trailhead when the red rock walls start steadily rising higher on both sides and crowding in closer. And although none of the four of us has backpacked this route into southern Utah’s Buckskin Gulch before, we’re all familiar with approach hikes into slot canyons—and the unnatural and kind of thrilling sensation of descending into the Earth.

Before long, the walls stand barely more than shoulder-width apart and perhaps a hundred feet tall and the light at the bottom of this slot canyon grows dim. We downclimb a sturdy wooden ladder installed for getting over a pour-off that drops several feet. Little or no direct sunlight reaches us now, only the reflected light hitting the tops of these walls and seeping downward. In rare places where the twisting canyon aligns with the sun, the sudden direct sunlight feels intensely hot, especially in contrast to the pleasant coolness of the deep shade filling most of this slot.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A backpacker hiking down southern Utah's Buckskin Gulch.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking southern Utah’s Buckskin Gulch. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan this trip.

The flat, dry, sandy bottom initially makes for relatively easy walking. Then we encounter a rockier bottom and the first puddles, some spanning the slot from wall to wall and extending for 10, 20, 30 or more feet, some shallow, others calf deep. Where puddles have dried up, we walk across mud—sometimes firm, sometimes quite mucky. But nothing that compares to my recollection of the first time I backpacked down Buckskin Gulch and we had to wade through thigh-deep pits of watery but thick muck that felt like wet cement choked with sticks and stones, all of which had been smashed up and carried downstream by flash floods.

Less than an hour from the trailhead, we reach this short tributary canyon’s confluence with Buckskin Gulch and turn downstream.

My friends David Gordon, Doug Jenkins, and Jeff Wilhelm and I are backpacking down Buckskin Gulch to the canyon of the Paria River, which flows from southern Utah into northern Arizona and empties into the Colorado River at Lees Ferry, the gateway to the Grand Canyon. Instead of hiking from the Buckskin-Paria confluence all the way down Paria to Lees Ferry, we’re planning to finish at the White House Trailhead, the starting point for the usual route that backpackers follow down Paria Canyon to Lees Ferry.

And we have a weather forecast that has placed a somewhat hard deadline on our backpacking trip—a trip that we’re undertaking, nonetheless, because we’re all experienced enough to share high confidence that we can meet that deadline.

(The Take This Trip section at the bottom of this story includes much more detail about our itinerary, why I originally planned it as I did, and how and why we changed our plans right before the trip based on the weather forecast. Much of this story is free for anyone to read, but reading all of this story, including that Take This Trip section, is an exclusive benefit of a subscription to The Big Outside.)

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One of the Best Backpacking Trips in the Southwest

As we continue down Buckskin Gulch, the walls, often slightly overhanging, rise to perhaps 200 feet high and the canyon widens and narrows a few times. But it mostly remains a true, very narrow slot. Gazing around, I’m reminded that the greatest magic of slot canyons is how the diffused light paints the orange and red walls in too many shades of those colors to quantify, as well as shades of brown and a deep black that looks like an oil spill—creating stark contrasts that delight and mystify the human eye and brain.

Wildly rippled and sculpted by too many floods for us to guesstimate, over too many years for us to fathom, and scored by layers of geology, the tall, sheer walls also preclude any quick escape from this canyon: The only exits lie hours behind or ahead of us. And that is why you only want to hike any slot canyon with a reliable forecast for clear skies and zero rain.

After Buckskin Gulch and Paria Canyon, hike the rest of
The 12 Best Backpacking Trips in the Southwest.”

 

A backpacker hiking Buckskin Gulch in southern Utah.
Find the backpacker! David Gordon backpacking Buckskin Gulch in southern Utah.

For a few decades now, Buckskin Gulch, located in the Paria Canyon-Vermilion Cliffs Wilderness on the Utah-Arizona border, has been increasingly well known as possibly the longest slot canyon in America, and perhaps the world. (The first claim seems substantiated by the lack of another one identified as longer, but the second claim may be unknowable.) The official measure given Buckskin by its management agency, the Bureau of Land Management, puts it at 16 miles from the top of its actual canyon—like many canyons here, it begins as an almost flat, usually dry wash in the open desert, with no walls—to its confluence with Paria Canyon. Type its name into a search engine and the top phrase likely to fill in is “Buckskin Gulch longest slot canyon.”

And Paria Canyon, hiked by itself or in combination with Buckskin, has long been widely considered one of the best backpacking trips in the Southwest—and I would argue one of the top three or five. For the very good reason of protecting the river’s water quality and this fragile canyon environment, the permit system limits the number of backpackers starting a multi-day hike here at a total of 20 people per day. In my experience, because parties spread out in these canyons, that system ensures a nice degree of solitude.

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Hiking a slot canyon where heavy rainstorms regularly trigger flash floods that constantly deposit new debris and relocate and reorganize pre-existing debris can feel like investigating the rubble of a city recently bombed—and indeed, the damage from flash floods is often relatively recent, certainly in geological time, having occurred only months or weeks or even just days before.

We occasionally pass below logs that were once tree trunks, stripped of their bark and white as bones, pinned between the walls 20 to 30 or more feet overhead by some past flood, spanning the canyon like little bridges for wall-climbing lizards. The height of those logs speaks to the depth and power of the floodwaters that pinned them—forces that anyone would shudder to contemplate.

I can help you plan this or any trip you read about at my blog. Click here to learn how.

 

Backpackers in Buckskin Gulch in southern Utah.
Jeff Wilhelm, David Gordon and Doug Jenkins backpacking Buckskin Gulch in southern Utah.

We step around the decaying carcass of an animal, maybe a pronghorn or a goat, that either fell to its death from the canyon rim high overhead or was swept away in a flash flood, carried probably a considerable distance, and deposited there when the water level dropped.

At a jam-up of giant boulders that spans Buckskin’s close walls—looking like some catastrophic geologic train wreck—we scramble over and around gritty, sandy rocks to find a route through the wreckage. We first climb up, then carefully downward through a gap, passing our packs through difficult and tight spots, and finally underneath rocks to reach the jam’s other side. And continue hiking.

A backpacker hiking Buckskin Gulch in southern Utah.
Doug Jenkins backpacking in Buckskin Gulch in southern Utah. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan this trip.

Finally, some nine or more hours after we started out from the Wire Pass Trailhead, we find an established, sandy campsite on a bench a few feet above the canyon bottom, in a stretch of lower Buckskin Gulch that widens to at least 200 to 300 feet across. Soaring walls of vermilion, maroon, and scarlet with dark water streaks rise at least a couple hundred feet above us, riddled with ledges, cracks, overhangs. Smallish cottonwood trees inhabit the benches of sand and mud on both sides of this bend in the canyon.

We drop our packs and pitch tents, all of us genuinely surprised at how long and hard a day we just had—our fatigue considerably amplified by the several liters of water we each carried, not sure whether we’d find any in Buckskin or how silted it might be, and the same with the Paria River tomorrow. One party of three is camped a short distance from us, out of sight and mostly beyond earshot. Before dark, a lone backpacker claims the campsite directly across the canyon from us.

The spring desert night seems to drip very slowly from the sky because of the protracted time between when the sun drops behind the walls in late afternoon and when darkness overtakes the canyon later in the evening. Dusk takes its sweet time in the bottom of a narrow canyon.

And the absolute silence on a windless evening like this one feels as dense as the quicksand that I’ve encountered on both of my previous trips into these canyons. Words spoken somewhat loudly echo distinctly off the walls, sounding like they were mimicked perfectly by another person just across the canyon.

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Paria Canyon

At the Buckskin Gulch-Paria Canyon confluence the next morning, I look around, searching, I guess, for something about this spot that looks familiar. But nothing does. That’s the nature of Southwest canyons—nothing remains the same for very long. I can’t imagine how many flash floods have rearranged Buckskin and Paria over the past three decades since I first stood here.

I last stood at this confluence 10 years ago, on a backpacking trip with my family and another family, our group including four teenagers and one ’tweener; we started at White House Trailhead, instead of the Wire Pass Trailhead, and hiked down Paria to Lees Ferry, not attempting Buckskin that time because of reports of about four feet of icy water filling that canyon on that late-March trip. (We ran into a couple at a campsite in lower Paria Canyon who told us they had backpacked down Buckskin, wading for hours through icy water with their puffy jackets and every layer they brought on their upper bodies—and were still freezing.)

Click here now to plan your next great backpacking adventure using my expert e-books.

 

A backpacker hiking up Paria Canyon in southern Utah.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking up Paria Canyon in southern Utah.

And before that, I stood at this confluence 32 years ago, with my girlfriend (now my wife) after camping the night before somewhere very close to where we camped last night, possibly on the same sandy bench—although, undoubtedly, the canyon bottom has been reshaped countless times since then and would look different today from that first trip, while the upper walls may remain largely unchanged.

Find the best gear, expert buying tips, and best-in-category reviews at my Gear Reviews page.

See also my stories “The Quicksand Chronicles: Backpacking Paria Canyon,” “The 12 Best Backpacking Trips in the Southwest,” and all stories about hiking and backpacking in southern Utah at The Big Outside.

The Gear I Used See my reviews of the outstanding backpack, ultralight backpacking tent, ultralight sleeping bag, ultralight air mattress, and stove I used on this trip.

Want my help planning the details of this trip, including an itinerary appropriate for your group? See my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you plan this or any trip you read about at this blog.

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The Best Trekking Poles of 2026 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/the-best-trekking-poles-of-2020/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/the-best-trekking-poles-of-2020/#comments Fri, 14 Nov 2025 10:00:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=38673 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

One of the most immutable truisms about hiking is this: Backpackers, dayhikers, climbers, mountain runners, and others who start using trekking poles almost never hit the trail without them again. No matter how much weight you’re carrying—from an ultralight daypack or running vest to a godawful heavy monster backpack—using poles will lessen your chances of an accidental fall and your leg muscles and joints, feet, back, and body will all feel better, thanks to the reduced strain, fatigue, and impact on them.

Consider this: I do not know a single experienced dayhiker or backpacker who does not use poles.

This review covers the best trekking poles available today. My picks are based on testing all of them (and many other poles) extensively on backpacking trips, dayhikes, mountain climbs and scrambles, backcountry skiing, and/or ultra-trail runs—including backpacking in Wyoming’s Wind River Range, Idaho’s Sawtooths, Utah’s High Uintas, Montana’s Beartooths, Colorado’s San Juans, southern Utah’s Owl and Fish canyons, and on the Grand Canyon’s Gems Route, plus dayhikes from Capitol Reef, Bryce Canyon, and Zion national parks to the Tetons and Idaho’s White Cloud Mountains, to name some places I’ve hiked just in recent months—as well as my experience ambulating thousands of trail miles over more than a quarter-century of testing and reviewing gear, formerly as the lead gear reviewer for Backpacker magazine for 10 years and even longer running this blog.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A backpacker on the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park.
David Gordon backpacking the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park. Click photo for my e-book “The Complete Guide to Backpacking the Teton Crest Trail.”

In the reviews below:

Dawn light hitting No Name Lake in Glacier National Park, Montana.
Dawn light hitting No Name Lake in Glacier National Park, Montana. Click photo to see my 25 all-time favorite backcountry campsites.
  • The poles are listed in order from lightest to heaviest because weight best distinguishes them in terms of intended uses, making it effectively the key factor influencing your choice.
  • I’ve given every pole an overall score—but keep in mind that, with poles, you should first figure out whether you need ultralight, lightweight, or heavier and sturdier poles, and folding versus collapsible/telescoping poles, and then compare the scores and details of the models in your chosen category (which is why I list the poles in order of weight, not score). You will see that some pole models reviewed below have a similar or identical overall score but are very different from one another.
  • Traditional collapsible (or telescoping) poles, usually consisting of three sections, typically have a greater length-adjustability range than folding poles and are often (though not always) heavier and sturdier, but do not compress nearly as much as folding poles. Their effective adjustability range is essentially their collapsed length to their maximum length because they still function and can be used by small kids when fully collapsed. They are best for backpacking and dayhiking, and some models cross over to backcountry touring in winter.
  • Folding poles, which typically have three but may have up to five sections, typically have limited or no length-adjustability range and are often (though not always) lighter than collapsible poles. They often come in multiple sizes. Most of all, their folding design makes them far more packable—shorter when folded—than collapsible poles. They are good for backpacking, dayhiking, and ultra-running when the goal is traveling very light and being able to store the poles on a small pack without them being obtrusive. They are rarely long and sturdy enough to use to pitch ultralight tents, and few models cross over to backcountry touring in winter.
  • For reasons of comparison and intended uses, I categorize poles under 12 ounces (per pair) as ultralight, poles 12-15.9 ounces as lightweight, and poles one pound or more as the sturdiest, for hard use.
  • Key point for backpackers who use an ultralight or lightweight tent: If you use a tent that pitches with trekking poles, many require poles that are adjustable and extend to at least 125 centimeters and sometimes 130 to 135 centimeters. (Check the specs and instructions for your tent.) Not all poles meet those specs.
  • The capsule reviews below each include a link to my full reviews of the poles.

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Backpackers hiking over Clouds Rest in Yosemite National Park.
Backpackers hiking over Clouds Rest in Yosemite National Park. Click photo for my e-book “The Best First Backpacking Trip in Yosemite.”

I regularly update this review with new poles that belong on this list. I’m confident you will find at least one model of trekking poles ideal for your type of hiking on or off-trail—and you’ll usually find the best prices at the links to online gear retailers below. Those are affiliate links that support this blog at no cost to you when you make purchases through them, so thanks for doing that.

See also my stories “How to Choose Trekking Poles” and “10 Expert Tips for Hiking With Trekking Poles” and these reviews of other top gear picks:

The Best Backpacking Gear of the Year
The 10 Best Backpacking Packs
The Best Ultralight Packs
The 10 Best Backpacking Tents
The 12 Best Down Jackets
25 Essential Backpacking Gear Accessories
The 10 Best Hiking Daypacks

A backpacker standing at Ooh-Ah Point on the Grand Canyon's South Kaibab Trail.
Todd Arndt standing at Ooh-Ah Point on the Grand Canyon’s South Kaibab Trail. Click photo for my expert help planning your next great backpacking trip.

Please share your questions, opinions, and experiences with any of these poles or your own favorite model in the comments section at the bottom of the review. I try to respond to all comments.

The chart below compares key metrics and features of each pole covered below, including an overall score. But keep in mind that some models have similar or identical scores even though they are very different; look closely at the scoring categories and specific reviews—and use my expert tips for choosing trekking poles—to determine which poles are best for your purposes. That’s why I list them in order of weight, because that metric most clearly distinguishes the types and best uses of poles.

The Best Trekking Poles

Trekking PoleScorePriceWeight/PairSizes/AdjustabilityCollapsible/FoldingPacked Length
Black Diamond Distance Carbon Z4.3$20010 oz./
283.5g
Five sizes, non-adjustable: 110cm/43.3 ins., 115cm/45.3 ins., 120cm/47.2 ins., 125cm/49 ins., and 130cm/51 ins.Folding33cm/13 inches (110cm poles)
Gossamer Gear LT54.3$19510 oz./
283.5g
One size, adjustable: 105-130cm/41 to 53 ins.Collapsible60cm/23.5 inches
Black Diamond Distance Carbon FLZ4.4$22011-13 oz./
311.8g-368.5g
Five sizes, adjustable: men’s and women’s 95-110cm/37-43.3 ins. and 110-125cm/43.3-49 ins., men’s 125-140cm/49-55.1 ins.Folding34-40cm/13.4-15.7 inches
Montem Ultralight 100% Carbon Fiber Trekking Poles4.1$9014 oz./
396.9g
One size, adjustable: 105-135cm/41 to 53 ins.Collapsible61 cm/24 inches
MSR DynaLock Ascent4.5$1901 lb. 1 oz./
481.9g
Two sizes, adjustable: S 100-120cm/39-47.2 ins., L 120-140cm/47.2-55.1 ins.Folding36.2cm/14.3 inches (100-120cm poles)
Black Diamond Alpine Carbon Cork4.1$2301 lb. 1.5 oz./
496.1g
Two sizes, adjustable: men’s 100-130cm/39.4-51 ins., women’s 95-125cm/37-49 ins.Collapsible61cm/24 inches
Leki Makalu FX Carbon4.2$2301 lb. 1.9 oz./One size, adjustable: 110-130cm/43.3 to 51.2ins.Folding40cm/15.7 inches
Leki Makalu Cork Lite Trekking Poles4.1$160508gOne size, adjustable: 100-135 cm/39.4-53 ins.Collapsible67cm/26.4 inches
Montem Ultra Strong4.1$751 lb. 3 oz./
538.6g
One size, adjustable: 105-135 cm/41.3-53 ins.Collapsible61cm/24 inches

Ultralight Poles

Black Diamond Distance Carbon Z trekking and running poles.
Black Diamond Distance Carbon Z trekking and running poles.

Black Diamond Distance Carbon Z
Score: 4.3
Best for: ultra-runners and -hikers and lightweight and ultralight backpackers.
$200, 10 oz./264g (per pair 110cm, with trekking baskets)
Five sizes, non-adjustable: 110cm/43.3 ins., 115cm/45.3 ins., 120cm/47.2 ins., 125cm/49 ins., and 130cm/51 ins.
blackdiamondequipment.com

Lighter gear can entail tradeoffs, but these ultralight, non-adjustable folding poles are strong enough for many users in most situations. BD’s Distance Carbon Z endured a mostly off-trail, two-day backpacking trip in Idaho’s White Cloud Mountains, and a mostly off-trail, roughly 14-mile and 5,000-foot dayhike of 10,470-foot Horstman Peak in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains, among many other hikes and long trail runs.

Quickly deployed to their fixed length (in five sizes), thanks to an internal Kevlar cord, these 100 percent carbon fiber poles have extended EVA foam grips and partly mesh nylon wrist straps. They fold to a tiny 33 centimeters/13 inches (for the 110-centimeter size). Yes, they are non-adjustable, but the broad size range covers most users and adjustability is a modest compromise for weight this loss and packability is more important to this category of users. One caveat: Under rare stresses, carbon will sheer or snap.

See my full review of the Black Diamond Distance Carbon Z Poles.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these affiliate links to buy the Black Diamond Distance Carbon Z poles at blackdiamondequipment.com, backcountry.com, or rei.com.

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Click here now to learn more.

Gossamer Gear LT5 trekking poles.
Gossamer Gear LT5 trekking poles.

Gossamer Gear LT5
Score: 4.3
Best for: lightweight and ultralight backpackers and hikers.
$195, 10 oz./283.5g (per pair, without baskets)
One size, adjustable 105-130cm/41 to 53 ins.
gossamergear.com

Weighing (per pair) about as much as a lightweight down jacket—and less than five ounces of water—the minimalist, collapsible LT5 poles stand up to more abuse than they’d receive on many well-maintained trails, as I discovered on a 74-mile backpacking trip through the Grand Canyon, including a 15-mile day traversing most of the rugged Escalante Route; on a seven-day, 96-mile traverse of the extremely rugged Wind River High Route, two-thirds of which is off-trail; on a four-day, 45-mile hike through Yosemite; and trekking hut-to-hut on New Zealand’s Routeburn and Milford tracks in late spring.

The carbon shafts extend from 105 to 130 centimeters/41.3 to 51 inches, long enough for all but the tallest hikers; and while their collapsed length of 60 centimeters/23.5 inches isn’t very packable compared to folding poles, it’s a little better than most collapsible poles. Although the twist-lock mechanism doesn’t lock as securely as a lever, they have rarely failed me. The LT5 poles offer the performance needed by many hikers, backpackers—especially lightweight and ultralight—climbers, and others.

See my full review of the Gossamer Gear LT5 trekking poles.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking this affiliate link to purchase the Gossamer Gear LT5 trekking poles at gossamergear.com.

Plan your next great backpacking trip in Yosemite, Grand Teton,
and other parks using my expert e-books.

Lightweight Poles

Black Diamond Distance Carbon FLZ poles.
Black Diamond Distance Carbon FLZ poles.

Black Diamond Distance Carbon FLZ
Score: 4.4
Best for: ultra-runners and -hikers and lightweight and ultralight backpackers.
$220, 12.7 oz./pair (105-125cm, with trekking baskets)
Five adjustable sizes: men’s and women’s 95-110cm/37-43.3 ins. and 110-125cm/43.3-49 ins., men’s 125-140cm/49-55.1 ins.
blackdiamondequipment.com

BD’s folding, carbon fiber Distance Carbon FLZ hit a sweet spot between the most packable, ultralight poles and models only marginally heavier and less packable and offer greater versatility through their adjustability. On dayhikes and trail runs of up to 15 miles in Idaho’s Boulder and Pioneer Mountains and Boise Foothills and a 10-mile, 3,600-vertical-foot dayhike on a trail strewn with wet, slippery rocks and mud in New Hampshire’s White Mountains—as well as backpacking trips on the Wonderland Trail around Mount Rainier and in the Wind River Range and The Maze District of Canyonlands National Park—I found they perform very much like the Distance Carbon Z and are tough enough for backpacking.

Quickly deployed and adjusted using BD’s FlickLock levers, they have extended EVA foam grips and partly mesh nylon wrist straps. The five adjustable sizes will accommodate virtually any user. If you’re looking for the lightest and most packable adjustable poles, look no further.

See my full review of the Black Diamond Distance Carbon FLZ trekking and running poles.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these affiliate links to buy the Black Diamond Distance Carbon FLZ poles at blackdiamondequipment.com, backcountry.com, or rei.com.

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Join now for full access to ALL stories and get a free e-book!

 

Montem Ultra Light 100% Carbon Fiber Trekking Poles.
Montem Ultra Light 100% Carbon Fiber Trekking Poles.

Montem Ultra Light 100% Carbon Fiber Trekking Poles
Score: 4.1
Best for: many backpackers, hikers, and climbers.
$90, 14 oz./396.9g (per pair, with trekking baskets)
One size, adjustable 105-135 cm/41 to 53 ins.
montemlife.com

The biggest question with inexpensive gear is always: Will it work? And best way to answer that question is to field test it in places that are hard on gear. From six days on the Grand Canyon’s 60-mile Gems Route to backpacking Utah’s rugged Owl and Fish canyons loop, plus dayhiking in Capitol Reef and Bryce Canyon national parks and on two of the steepest, meanest trails in my local Foothills in Idaho, Montem’s Carbon Fiber Trekking Poles stood up to really hard hiking with only the loss of trekking baskets as a demerit.

Like Montem’s even less-expensive Ultra Strong Poles (below), the adjustability range—105 to 135 centimeters/41.3 to 53 inches—beats poles costing much more plus these have flick-lock levers, extended EVA foam grips, and adjustable straps; and the collapsed length of 61 centimeters/24 inches compares to the most packable telescoping poles. But these poles add the low weight and strength of carbon fiber.

See my full review of the Montem Ultra Light Trekking Poles.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking this affiliate link to purchase the Montem Ultra Light 100% Carbon Fiber Trekking Poles at montemlife.com.

Get 15 percent off any purchase at montemlife.com using the exclusive discount code BIGOUT15MOG.

Get the right pack for you. See “The 10 Best Backpacking Packs
and the best ultralight backpacks.

Sturdiest Poles

MSR DynaLock Ascent trekking poles.

MSR DynaLock Ascent
Score: 4.5
Best for: many backpackers, hikers, and climbers.
$190, 1 lb. 1 oz./481.9g (per pair, 100-120cm, with trekking baskets)
Two sizes, adjustable: S 100-120cm/39-47.2 ins., L 120-140cm/47.2-55.1 ins.
backcountry.com

These three-section, folding poles find a unique balance of three qualities: durability, exceptional packability, and adjustability in folding poles. In the backcountry, they stand out for being tough and stable, proving their value on outings from backpacking in the Wind River Range and a 20-mile, mostly off-trail peaks traverse in Idaho’s Sawtooths to a rim-to-rim dayhike across the Grand Canyon, a six-day hut trek on Iceland’s Laugavegur and Fimmvörðuháls trails, and some of the hardest miles on the Appalachian Trail.

The toughness owes to their bombproof, Kevlar-reinforced, all-carbon construction; I’ve never seen a hint of durability shortcomings. The adjustability range of 20cm in each of two sizes serves virtually all users. The packed length of a mere 36.2 centimeters/14.3 inches (for the small size) ranks among the most packable trekking poles. The sections lock rigidly with a simple pin and the Dynalock levers never slipped. There’s much to like and nothing to complain about with MSR’s Dynalock Ascent poles.

See my full review of the MSR Dynalock Ascent trekking poles.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these affiliate links to purchase the MSR Dynalock Ascent Trekking Poles at backcountry.com.

Want a pair of sturdy, four-season poles for just $90? Check out the MSR Dynalock Trail Backcountry Poles (1 lb. 5 oz./590g) at backcountry.com.

Get the right synthetic or down puffy to keep you warm. See “The 12 Best Down Jackets.”

 

Black Diamond Alpine Carbon Cork trekking poles.
Black Diamond Alpine Carbon Cork trekking poles.

Black Diamond Alpine Carbon Cork
Score: 4.1
Best for: many backpackers, hikers, climbers, and snow sports users.
$230, 1 lb. 1.5 oz./496.1g (per pair, with trekking baskets)
Two sizes, adjustable: men’s 100-130cm/39-51 ins., women’s 95-125cm/37-49 ins.
blackdiamondequipment.com

From a 94-mile traverse of Glacier National Park and a rugged, 74-mile hike in the Grand Canyon, among other backpacking trips, to backcountry skiing and scrambling off-trail up mountains, BD’s collapsible Alpine Carbon Cork poles have proved tough enough for any activity year-round.

The 100 percent carbon shafts have extended grips and provide good durability while keeping the weight modest. Adjustable from 100 to 130 centimeters/39 to 51 inches, they can effectively be used at any length basically down to their packed length of 61 centimeters/24 inches—a range comparable to many poles, serving all but very tall hikers (though not competing with poles offering the widest adjustability ranges). The FlickLock Pro levers are basically flawless. Two complaints: They’re not very packable and adjusting the lever tension requires a tiny Allen wrench, rather than a screwdriver head that would be found on many multi-tools or knives.

See my full review of the Black Diamond Alpine Carbon Cork trekking poles.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these affiliate links to purchase the Black Diamond Alpine Carbon Cork trekking poles at backcountry.com, blackdiamondequipment.com, or rei.com.

Get the right tent for you. See “The 10 Best Backpacking Tents
and “5 Expert Tips For Buying a Backpacking Tent.”

Leki Makalu FX Carbon trekking poles.
Leki Makalu FX Carbon trekking poles.

Leki Makalu FX Carbon
Score: 4.2
Best for: many backpackers, hikers, climbers, and other users.
$230, 1 lb. 1.9 oz./508g (per pair, with trekking baskets)
One size, adjustable 110-130cm/43.3-51.2 ins.
backcountry.com

With their good adjustability, packability, durability, comfort, reliability, and especially versatility, I increasingly found myself reaching for the Leki Makalu FX Carbon folding poles for backpacking in places as rugged as the Wind River Range, High Sierra, Canadian Rockies, and High Uintas Wilderness.

These folding poles extend to a length range that will accommodate most users: 110 to 130 centimeters/43.3 to 51.2 inches, while also packing away to just 40 centimeters/15.7 inches, nearly as compact as the most packable folding poles. While the Makalu FX Carbon weigh 17.9 ounces/508 grams per pair, placing them in a category with the heaviest hiking poles, the comfortable, extended Aergon Air foam grips help the poles seem to feel lighter. Lastly, precious few folding poles—all sharing the advantage of being very packable—possess the adjustability to serve the needs of a wide range of user sizes and can be used with trekking-pole tents. That’s a rare degree of versatility.

See my full review of the Leki Makalu FX Carbon folding trekking poles.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these affiliate links to purchase the Leki Makalu FX Carbon trekking poles at backcountry.com, lekiusa.com, or rei.com.

The Leki Makalu Cork Lite Trekking Poles.
The Leki Makalu Cork Lite Trekking Poles.

Leki Makalu Cork Lite Trekking Poles
Score: 4.1
Best for: many backpackers, hikers, climbers, and snow sports users.
$160, 1 lb. 1.9 oz./508g (per pair, with trekking baskets)
One size, adjustable 100-135cm/39.4-53 ins.
backcountry.com

The price of these hiking sticks might catch your eye first—but their versatility is also alluring. And they performed solidly on steep hikes like Idaho’s high point, 12,662-foot Borah Peak, with 5,262 feet of vertical in 4.1 miles, as well as on dayhikes in places like Capitol Reef National Park and a backpacking trip in Buckskin Gulch and Paria Canyon, where I started out with about 40 pounds, including eight liters (17 pounds) of water.

The adjustability range of 100 to 135 centimeters/39.4 to 53 inches in these telescoping poles is as versatile as you will find, accommodating virtually every user and making them suitable for tents that pitch with trekking poles. The adjustment levers are reliable and extended cork and foam grips and easily adjustable straps are nice features. Bummers: The collapsed length of 67 centimeters/26.4 inches makes them among the least packable hiking poles; and aluminum shafts make them heavier than most poles—but also sturdier.

See my full review of the Leki Makalu Cork Lite Trekking Poles.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these affiliate links to purchase the Leki Makalu Cork Lite Trekking Poles at backcountry.comlekiusa.com, or rei.com.

The Montem Ultra Strong Trekking Poles.
The Montem Ultra Strong Trekking Poles.

Montem Ultra Strong
Score: 4.1
Best for: many backpackers and hikers on a budget.
$75, 1 lb. 3 oz./538.6g (per pair, with trekking baskets)
One size, adjustable 105-135cm/41.3-53 ins.
montemlife.com

If cost is a barrier, these collapsible sticks are your answer. From the rugged, 25-mile Thunder River-Deer Creek Loop in the Grand Canyon to a four-day hike in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains and other backpacking trips, Montem’s 7075 aluminum shafts suffered no damage—although the piece attaching the upper lever mechanism to the shaft broke on one pole after a few years (there’s a lifetime warranty).

The very good adjustability range—105 to 135 centimeters/41.3 to 53 inches—beats poles costing much more. Like pricier models, these have flick-lock levers, extended EVA foam grips, and adjustable straps. While the collapsed length of 61 centimeters/24 inches compares to the most packable telescoping poles, they are not, of course, nearly as packable as folding poles. Tradeoffs: The levers occasionally slipped—in rugged terrain, not on moderate trails—and the poles are heavy. But ask yourself: Do you want to pay a lot more to avoid such minor tradeoffs?

See my full review of the Montem Ultra Strong trekking poles.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking this affiliate link to purchase the Montem Ultra Strong trekking poles at montemlife.com.

Get 15 percent off any purchase at montemlife.com using the exclusive discount code BIGOUT15MOG.

See all reviews of trekking poles, “How to Choose Trekking Poles” and “10 Expert Tips for Hiking With Trekking Poles.” and all reviews of backpacking gear and hiking gear at The Big Outside.

And don’t miss my popular reviews of “25 Essential Backpacking Gear Accessories” and “The Best Backpacking Gear” of the year.

NOTE: I tested gear for Backpacker magazine for 20 years. At The Big Outside, I review only what I consider the best outdoor gear and apparel. See The Big Outside’s Gear Reviews page for categorized menus of all gear reviews and expert buying tips.

You live for the outdoors. The Big Outside helps you get out there.
Join now to read ALL stories and get a free e-book!

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The Best Headlamps of 2026 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/gear-review-the-5-best-headlamps/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/gear-review-the-5-best-headlamps/#comments Tue, 11 Nov 2025 10:00:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=15691 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

A headlamp is unquestionably essential gear for hiking, backpacking, climbing, trail running, ultra-running and ultra-hiking, ski touring, and other backcountry activities that sometimes push into darkness (whether intentionally or not). But with so many to pick from, how do you choose which one to buy? Price? Brightness? Weight? Design and range of lighting modes? Go with a brand you know and trust? This review cuts through the information overload to help you pick the right headlamp for your adventures.

I selected the headlamps covered in this review based on extensive testing on backpacking, camping, long dayhikes, climbing, backcountry skiing, and other backcountry trips, and I’ve field-tested dozens of headlamps over more than a quarter-century of testing and reviewing gear, formerly as the lead gear reviewer for Backpacker magazine for 10 years and even longer running this blog.

The freshly updated picks below represent the best models for backcountry users.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


For dayhiking, backpacking, and similar pursuits, I favor models that meet five simple criteria:

•    Lightweight—no dayhiker, backpacker, runner, or climber needs a bulky light that weighs more than three to four ounces.
•    Versatile and bright enough for everything from reading in the tent and managing camp chores to hiking rugged trail in complete darkness—and if needed, for route-finding off-trail.
•    Intuitive and easy to use, so I don’t have to consult instructions more than once, take off my gloves to operate it, or use a tool to change batteries.
•    Projects a beam that’s focused and even, not blotchy and uneven.
•    Preferably rechargeable so I’m not repeatedly buying and throwing away batteries.

I apply those standards when choosing which headlamps I’ll review at The Big Outside, with the exception of being rechargeable, because some rechargeable headlamps cost more up front (although not over time), and this review covers a variety of headlamps at a range of price points.

The headlamps below are listed in order of weight. Please share your experiences with any of these models, or another you like, in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

The Best Headlamps

ModelPriceWeightMax PowerRechargeable
BioLite Headlamp 325$601.8 oz./51g325 lumensYes
Knog Bandicoot 250$502.1 oz./59.5g250 lumensYes
Black Diamond Spot 400$552.5 oz./70.9g400 lumensNo
Black Diamond Spot 400-R$702.6 oz./73.7g400 lumensYes
Petzl IKO Core$1052.8 oz./79.4g500 lumensYes
Petzl Actik Core$853 oz./85g350 lumensYes
BioLite Headlamp 800 Pro$1205.3 oz./150g800 lumensYes
Black Diamond Distance 1500$2207.5 oz./213g1,500 lumensYes
The Biolite Headlamp 325.
The Biolite Headlamp 325.

BioLite Headlamp 325
$50, 1.8 oz./51g
backcountry.com

Look for an ultralight headlamp under two ounces and $40 or less and you’ll find very few choices—with the BioLite Headlamp 325, which I’ve used backpacking in the Wind River Range and elsewhere, arguably the best. It sports four all-you-need lighting modes—white spot and red flood LEDs, both with dimming capability, plus white and red strobe—and cranks out enough brightness (325 lumens) and lasts long enough on a full charge (three hours on high, 40 hours on low) for backpackers, dayhikers, trail runners, and others.

With its nearly weightless front housing integrated into the slender, easily adjustable, no-bounce head strap, the 325 goes almost unnoticed on your head—making it certainly among the most comfortable ultralight headlamps. Intuitive, single-button operation, lockout mode, four-position housing tilt, and an IPX4 waterproof rating complete a high-value package at a very good price.

Read my complete review of the BioLite Headlamp 325.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking this affiliate link to purchase a BioLite Headlamp 325 at backcountry.com.

Plan your next great backpacking trip in Yosemite, Grand Teton,
and other parks using my expert e-books.

 

Knog Bandicoot 250 ultralight headlamp.
Knog Bandicoot 250 ultralight headlamp.

Knog Bandicoot 250
$50, 2.1 oz./59.5g
knog.com

I thought this headlamp’s predecessor, the Bandicoot, had the potential to upend this entire category. After using the more powerful and comfortable Knog Bandicoot 250 on a nine-day hike of nearly 130 miles through the High Sierra, mostly on the John Muir Trail, I still think this technology is a game changer.

The Bandicoot 250 is powerful, rechargeable, lighter than most competitors, and cheaper than many. Its unique, very light and durable silicone housing seamlessly merges the strap, body, and LEDs and adjusts to fit a huge circumference range of 30-70cm; you may forget you’re wearing it. Four LEDs—high beam, elliptical beams for broad ambient light, a red light for preserving your night vision, and downward-angled lights for reading—cover the needs of many users, including trail running and biking streets at night. It also has a lockout mode.

Read my complete review of the Knog Bandicoot 250.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking this affiliate link to purchase a Knog Bandicoot 250 at knog.com.

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Black Diamond Spot 400
Black Diamond Spot 400

Black Diamond Spot 400
$55, 2.5 oz./70.9g
blackdiamondequipment.com

In any direct comparison, the Spot 400 offers an impressive feature set, power, and versatility at a competitive price. That includes the three modes a backcountry headlamp should have—white beam, white peripheral, and red—and the latest update of the Spot jacks the max brightness up to a powerful 400 lumens. It’ll project a beam 100 meters and has dimming capability in all modes.

It features BD’s neat PowerTap technology that allows you to tap the right side of the casing to cycle between max brightness and the dimmed level you’ve already set—which is not only convenient, but so easy that you’ll power down more often, thus prolonging battery life. The lockout mode prevents accidental turning on in a pack. Plus, it’s waterproof up to a little over a meter underwater for 30 minutes.

Read my complete review of the Black Diamond Spot 400.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these affiliate links to purchase a Black Diamond Spot 400 at backcountry.com, rei.com, or blackdiamondequipment.com.

Want a reliable, basic, easy-to-operate headlamp at a good price? See my review of the Black Diamond Astro 300 and rechargeable Astro 300-R.

Planning your next big adventure? See “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips
and “Tent Flap With a View: 25 Favorite Backcountry Campsites.”

Black Diamond Spot 400-R headlamp.
Black Diamond Spot 400-R.

Black Diamond Spot 400-R
$70, 2.6 oz./73.7g
blackdiamondequipment.com

Virtually identical to BD’s Spot 400, the Spot 400-R adds a feature that keeps on delivering value: it’s rechargeable. Powered by a 1500 mAh Li-ion battery with micro-USB charging port, the Spot 400-R throws a beam 100 meters at its maximum brightness of 400 lumens; that’s bright enough to hike off-trail, search for your route in the dark, or identify the large animal going for your cached food. And a full charge lasts for four hours at max power.

Plus, it sports all the versatility of the Spot 400: three white and red modes with dimming capability, intuitive two-button operation, PowerTap technology, lockout mode, and it’s waterproof up to a little over a meter underwater for 30 minutes. But most impressively, at just 15 bucks more than the Spot 400, the rechargeable Spot 400-R soon pays for itself through the money saved not buying (and throwing away) batteries.

Read my complete review of the Black Diamond Spot 400-R.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these affiliate links to purchase a rechargeable Black Diamond Spot 400-R at backcountry.com, rei.com or blackdiamondequipment.com.

I can help you plan the best backpacking, hiking, or family adventure of your life.
Click here now to learn more.

The Petzl IKO Core rechargeable headlamp.
The Petzl IKO Core rechargeable headlamp.

Petzl IKO Core
$105, 2.8 oz./79.4g
backcountry.com

When you compare max brightness, weight, and other features, few ultralight headlamps match the rechargeable IKO Core’s appeal to backpackers, dayhikers, climbers, trail runners, and backcountry skiers. From ski touring to a backcountry yurt on a dark, snowy winter night to backpacking in the Wind River Range and the Grand Canyon, its max brightness of 500 lumens—exceptional for a headlamp weighing under three ounces—illuminated objects 100 meters distant.

The IPX-4 rating means the headlamp is resistant to splashed water but not waterproof—not as good as the water resistance of other ultralight headlamps. But three brightness levels, a combined spot beam and proximity light in two of them, simple operation, the versatility to substitute AAA batteries in a pinch, a lockout mode, and the bendable, adjustable, hydrophobic headband’s comfortable and secure fit—all in a light weighing under three ounces—make the IKO Core one of today’s most unique headlamps.

Read my complete review of the Petzl IKO Core.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking either of these affiliate links to purchase a Petzl IKO Core at backcountry.com.

Let The Big Outside helps you find the best adventures.
Join now for full access to ALL stories and get a free e-book!

Petzl Actik Core headlamp.
The Petzl Actik Core

Petzl Actik Core
$88, 3 oz./85g
backcountry.com

If you’re willing to spend more up front for a rechargeable headlamp—which eventually pays for itself—the Actik Core ranks among the very best. Equipped with white and red modes and spot and proximity beams, it stands out among rechargeables for two attributes: putting out an impressive maximum brightness of 350 lumens even when using the rechargeable battery and maintaining constant brightness over the duration of a charge—both of which you’ll appreciate on a long slog after dark.

On a September night in the Wind River Range, at max brightness, the Actik Core illuminated trees 300 feet away across a meadow. It’s easy and intuitive to use with one power button to click between modes and the dimming function. It also runs on three standard alkaline, lithium, or Ni-MH AAA batteries and the battery compartment is accessed by lifting a tab—no tool needed. A charge lasts up to 160 hours, long enough for most multi-day hikes.

Read my complete review of the Petzl Actik Core.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking either of these affiliate links to purchase a Petzl Actik Core at backcountry.com or rei.com.

Get the right gear for your trips. See “The 10 Best Backpacking Packs
and “The 10 Best Backpacking Tents.”

The BioLite Headlamp 800 Pro.
The BioLite Headlamp 800 Pro.

BioLite Headlamp 800 Pro
$120, 5.3 oz./150g
backcountry.com

From an 18-mile, 13-hour, four-summit hike in Utah’s Wasatch Range to many evenings biking city streets after dark, I’ve found that BioLite’s rechargeable Headlamp 800 Pro stands out for a rare combination of ultra-bright power, a wide range of modes, and a modest weight for a backcountry headlamp that packs this much power and versatility.

For starters, its multiple lighting modes include dimmable white spot and white flood plus the two combined; white strobe; dimmable red flood, and on the battery pack, rear-facing red solid and red strobe visibility beams, for biking streets after dark (plus a lockout function). The max brightness of 800 lumens in 30-second burst mode exceeds that of virtually any ultralight headlamp—very useful for hikers, climbers, backcountry skiers, and others moving off-trail. For its complexity, operation is very intuitive.

Perhaps most uniquely, it offers a constant mode, an option for setting the headlamp to maintain its brightness level rather than dimming as the charge or batteries drain, which is called regulated power and common in most headlamps for the backcountry.

Read my complete review of the BioLite Headlamp 800 Pro.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking either of these affiliate links to purchase a BioLite Headlamp 800 Pro at backcountry.com, rei.com or bioliteenergy.com.


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The Black Diamond Distance 1500.
The Black Diamond Distance 1500.

Black Diamond Distance 1500
$220, 7.5 oz./213g
blackdiamondequipment.com

Comparing any hiking-oriented headlamps to the rechargeable Black Diamond Distance 1500 headlamp feels rather like comparing a Honda Civic to a Bradley armored fighting vehicle. At 7.5 ounces/213 grams and putting out a supernova-like 1,500 lumens at max power, the Distance 1500 is at least twice the price, weight, and brightness of most of today’s best backcountry headlamps. Testing this beast hiking, climbing, mountain and road biking, and backcountry skiing demonstrated that, while it’s certainly overkill for many activities, it’s invaluable for both route-finding and high-speed sports after dark.

The headlamp achieves 1,500 lumens only for bursts of 15 seconds using BD’s Power Tap Technology, activated by double-tapping the side of the headlamp. Its maximum sustained power is 800 lumens—still very bright and useful in certain backcountry scenarios (in other words, when you really need a bright light). The Comfort Cradle, with the light on the forehead and a battery pack in the rear, is quite comfortable and works great with any headlamp-compatible helmet. Caveat: Expect to invest some time into learning its many modes and functions.

Read my complete review of the Black Diamond Distance 1500.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these affiliate links to purchase a Black Diamond Distance 1500 Headlamp at blackdiamondequipment.com or backcountry.com, or the Black Diamond Distance Headlamp Battery at blackdiamondequipment.com or backcountry.com.

See all reviews of headlamps, hiking gear, backpacking gear, and ultralight backpacking gear at The Big Outside. And don’t miss my popular reviews of “25 Essential Backpacking Gear Accessories” and “The Best Backpacking Gear” of the year.

You live for the outdoors. The Big Outside helps you get out there.
Join now to read ALL stories and get a free e-book!

Whether you’re a beginner or seasoned backpacker, you’ll learn new tricks for making all of your trips go better in my “12 Expert Tips for Planning a Backpacking Trip,” A Practical Guide to Lightweight and Ultralight Backpacking,” and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.” With a paid subscription to The Big Outside, you can read all of those three stories for free; if you don’t have a subscription, you can purchase the e-book versions of “12 Expert Tips for Planning a Backpacking Trip,” the lightweight and ultralight backpacking guide, and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”

NOTE: I tested gear for Backpacker Magazine for 20 years. At The Big Outside, I review only what I consider the best outdoor gear and apparel. See my Gear Reviews page at The Big Outside for categorized menus of all of my reviews and my expert buying tips.

—Michael Lanza

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Backpacking Yosemite: What You Need to Know https://thebigoutsideblog.com/backpacking-yosemite-what-you-need-to-know/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/backpacking-yosemite-what-you-need-to-know/#respond Sat, 08 Nov 2025 10:00:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=55248 Read on

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The first major Western national park I backpacked in was Yosemite. I wanted to begin exploring America’s big, iconic wilderness parks—and like a lot of backpackers, I thought: Where else would I start but Yosemite? The name alone conjures mental images of walking for days through wild backcountry sprinkled with shimmering alpine lakes, granite walls, and high passes and summits overlooking a sea of jagged peaks (which, it turns out, is accurate).

Today, after many return trips throughout Yosemite, I’ve learned that one can spend a lifetime wandering the more than 700,000 acres of wilderness in America’s third national park and not get tired of it.

But what do you need to know about taking a Yosemite backpacking trip? This article will answer all of your questions on how to go about planning and executing what is unquestionably one of America’s 10 best backpacking trips—including tips on obtaining a wilderness permit that can be very hard to get. The information to follow draws on my numerous trips backpacking, dayhiking, and rock climbing there over more than 30 years, including the 10 years I spent as a field editor with Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A backpacker hiking Indian Ridge, overlooking Half Dome, in Yosemite National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking Indian Ridge in Yosemite. Click photo to read about Yosemite’s “best-kept secret backpacking trip.”

See “The 10 Best Backpacking Trips in Yosemite” and all stories at this blog about backpacking in Yosemite and in the High Sierra. Most of those stories require a paid subscription to The Big Outside to read in full, including my tips and information on planning each hike. See also my expert e-books to three great multi-day hikes in Yosemite and other parks, including “The Best First Backpacking Trip in Yosemite.”

I’ve helped many readers plan backpacking trips in Yosemite, on the John Muir Trail, and throughout the High Sierra, answering all of their questions (and many they didn’t think to ask) and customizing an itinerary ideal for them. See my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you and read hundreds of comments from readers like you who’ve received my custom trip planning.

Click on any photo below to read about that trip. Please share your questions, personal stories, or tips about backpacking in Yosemite in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

Plan your next great backpacking adventure in Yosemite
and other flagship parks using my expert e-books.

A backpacker hiking to Burro Pass above Matterhorn Canyon, Yosemite National Park.
Todd Arndt backpacking to Burro Pass above Matterhorn Canyon, Yosemite National Park. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.

First: It’s Not as Crowded as You Think

Yosemite will far surpass your expectations in many ways—and it can blow up the stereotype of hugely popular national parks. The first is the notion that it’s overrun with people. I can speak to that question from deep personal experience: I’ve hiked many days there, during the peak season, encountering few other people.

While certain spots and trails get insanely busy at times—think: Yosemite Valley, the Mist Trail, Half Dome—most of the park’s backcountry offers a surprising amount of solitude. The truth is that only about 10 percent of the park’s 750 miles of trails accounts for about 80 percent of all trail use: mostly the John Muir Trail from Happy Isles to Donohue Pass, Little Yosemite Valley (which alone accounts for almost 20 percent of backcountry use) and the Sierra High Camps loop. And the average length of backpacking trips is just two nights.

Consequently, as a career backcountry ranger in Yosemite once told me, “There are areas of the park where you will see very few people.”

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A backpacker on the John Muir Trail overlooking the Cathedral Range in Yosemite National Park.
Todd Arndt on the John Muir Trail overlooking the Cathedral Range in Yosemite. Click photo for my e-book “The Best First Backpacking Trip in Yosemite.”

How to Get a Yosemite Wilderness Permit

As in most mountainous Western national parks (like Grand Teton, Glacier, Mount Rainier,, and others), Yosemite permits are in high demand for dates in July, August, and September. First key step for success: Know when to reserve a permit. Fortunately, Yosemite established in 2022 a sensible and user-friendly system created to handle and spread out enormous demand.

I’ve helped many readers plan an unforgettable backpacking trip in Yosemite.
Want my help with yours? Find out more here.

A hiker on "The Visor" of Half Dome, above Yosemite Valley.
Todd Arndt on “The Visor” of Half Dome, above Yosemite Valley. Click photo to get my e-book “The Best Backpacking Trip in Yosemite.”

Yosemite issues wilderness permits based on daily trailhead quotas (with special rules for the John Muir Trail) through a rolling lottery that provides weeklong reservation periods.

Enter a lottery up to 24 weeks in advance of your desires trip start date and you will be notified of whether you get a permit reservation within two business days after the lottery closes. Thus, if you strike out in one lottery period, you can apply in any subsequent lottery period—so it makes sense to enter the lottery for the earliest possible date you could take the trip.

Sixty percent of permit reservations are available by lottery at recreation.gov/permits/445859 beginning at 12:01 a.m. Pacific Time on the Sunday up to 24 weeks (168 days) in advance of the date you want to start hiking, with the lottery for each specific window of dates closing at 11:59 p.m. the following Saturday.

See “How to Get a Yosemite or High Sierra Wilderness Permit.”

Forty percent of wilderness permits become available for reserving at recreation.gov/permits/445859 starting seven days and up to three days before a trip start date.

See “How to Get a Last-Minute Yosemite Wilderness Permit Now.” Find more information at nps.gov/yose/planyourvisit/wildpermits.htm.

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Backpackers hiking over Clouds Rest in Yosemite National Park.
Todd Arndt and Jeff Wilhelm hiking over Clouds Rest in Yosemite.

Whether you’re a beginner or seasoned backpacker, you’ll learn new tricks for making all of your trips go better in my stories “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” “A Practical Guide to Lightweight and Ultralight Backpacking,” and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.” With a paid subscription to The Big Outside, you can read all of those stories for free; if you don’t have a subscription, you can download the e-book versions of “12 Expert Tips for Planning a Backpacking Trip,” the lightweight and ultralight backpacking tips, and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”

See these articles at The Big Outside that may be useful for a Yosemite hike:

Bear Essentials: How to Store Food When Backcountry Camping
8 Pro Tips For Avoiding Blisters
How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be
12 Expert Tips for Finding Solitude When Backpacking
How to Plan Food for a Backpacking Trip
10 Pro Tips For Staying Warm in a Sleeping Bag
5 Tips For Staying Warm and Dry While Hiking

See all stories with expert backpacking tips at The Big Outside.

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The Best Short Backpacking Trip in Grand Teton National Park https://thebigoutsideblog.com/the-best-beginner-backpacking-trip-in-grand-teton-national-park/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/the-best-beginner-backpacking-trip-in-grand-teton-national-park/#comments Fri, 07 Nov 2025 10:00:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=28264 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

As we backpacked up Paintbrush Canyon on the first day of a three-day family hike on the nearly 20-mile loop of Paintbrush and Cascade canyons in Grand Teton National Park, I kept a close eye on our kids. Our son, Nate, then eight years old, had taken a few backpacking trips with me already; I figured he’d do fine, but still, he was young. Our daughter, Alex, then six, was on just her second backpacking trip. I knew that making it fun for them would be an important first step toward nurturing in them a love for future wilderness trips.

We could hardly have chosen a better multi-day hike than the Paintbrush-Cascade Canyon loop: Offering a highlights reel of Grand Teton National Park’s backcountry, it is probably among the most scenic sub-20-mile hikes in the National Park System—and I’ve taken many of the best over the past few decades, including the 10 years I spent as Northwest Editor of Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog.


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A backpacker on the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park.
David Gordon backpacking the Teton Crest Trail toward Paintbrush Divide.

With nearly 4,000 feet of elevation gain and loss, the loop crosses one of the highest points reached by trail in the park, 10,720-foot Paintbrush Divide, where the panorama spans a jagged skyline of peaks and spires in every direction, including 12,605-foot Mount Moran to the north and the 13,776-foot Grand Teton and 12,000-footers Mount Owen and Teewinot to the south. It also passes by Lake Solitude, nestled in a cirque of cliffs, and below the striped cliffs of Paintbrush Canyon and the waterfalls and soaring peaks of Cascade Canyon. Wildflowers carpet the ground from late July well into August.

On my family’s second evening, camped in the North Fork of Cascade Canyon, with a jaw-dropping view of the Grand Teton towering thousands of feet above us, I thought the kids would be exhausted from the hike over Paintbrush Divide. But Nate and Alex played for hours in the creek. When I asked Alex if she was tired, she started doing jumping jacks in front of me.

Dying to backpack in the Tetons? See my popular e-books to the Teton Crest Trail
and the short backpacking trip described in this story.

Descending from Paintbrush Divide into the North Fork Cascade Canyon. A backpacker on the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park. Young kids hiking to Paintbrush Divide, Grand Teton National Park. A backpacker at Lake Solitude on the Teton Crest Trail, Grand Teton National Park. The North Fork of Cascade Canyon. Watching the sunset from a campsite in the North Fork Cascade Canyon, Grand Teton National Park. Backpackers on the Teton Crest Trail below Paintbrush Divide, Grand Teton National Park. The North Fork of Cascade Canyon.

I’ve backpacked and dayhiked this popular loop and parts of it on longer trips several times. In a park that arguably ranks among the top five for backpackers, the 19.7-mile loop linking up Paintbrush and Cascade canyons from String Lake is the best beginner-friendly introduction to backpacking the Tetons for the scenery, relatively short distance, and good trails and campsites.

But that doesn’t mean the scenery or experience are second-rate; this hike’s as outstanding as any other in the park, a very worthy weekend trip for new and experienced backpackers or a fun, scenic, big day for fit hikers and trail runners.

I’ve helped many readers plan an unforgettable backpacking trip in the Tetons.
Want my help with yours? Find out more here.

A moose along the Teton Crest Trail, North Fork Cascade Canyon, Grand Teton National Park.
A moose along the Teton Crest Trail in the North Fork Cascade Canyon. Click photo for my best-selling, expert e-book to the Teton Crest Trail.

As we hiked down Cascade Canyon on our last morning, we stopped to watch two bull moose grazing not far off the trail. The kids loved the shuttle boat across Jenny Lake, craning our necks up at the peaks above us. We celebrated with ice cream afterward. And we didn’t lose any stuffed animals.

All in all, it was a win. My kids are young adults now and probably don’t remember much about this hike. But I look back on it as an important step toward molding them into the avid, seasoned backpackers they are today.

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See “The 5 Best Backpacking Trips in Grand Teton National Park,” “10 Perfect National Park Backpacking Trips for Beginners,” “A Wonderful Obsession: Backpacking the Teton Crest Trail,” “10 Great Big Dayhikes in the Tetons,” and all stories about backpacking in Grand Teton National Park at The Big Outside, including this story about my family’s backpacking trip on the Teton Crest Trail when our kids were a little older.

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10 Tips For Getting Outside More https://thebigoutsideblog.com/10-tips-for-getting-outside-more/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/10-tips-for-getting-outside-more/#comments Mon, 03 Nov 2025 10:00:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=12323 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Do you get outside as much as you’d like, either locally or on longer trips away from home? Who does? For many of us, work, home, and other responsibilities erect roadblocks to getting out as much as we’d like—even as spending time outdoors feels ever more urgent and necessary. This story shares 10 simple strategies to help you sate your appetite for getting outdoors, both on short outings near home and longer trips away from home.

While my work as an outdoors writer and photographer for more than three decades—including the 10 years I spent as the Northwest Editor of Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog—enables me to spend a lot of time outside every year, like most people, I serve many masters and balance many commitments.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


Backpackers hiking below Nevills Arch in lower Owl Canyon, Bears Ears National Monument, Utah.
Mark and Pam Solon backpacking below Nevills Arch in lower Owl Canyon, Bears Ears National Monument, Utah. Click photo to see “The 12 Best Backpacking Trips in the Southwest.”

In fact, my professional need to get out frequently on trips—along with my desire to get out regularly on shorter, local hikes, runs, cycling, and skiing for anywhere from an hour to a day—has, over the years, taught me many tricks for accomplishing those objectives within the framework of a busy life as a working parent with a spouse who works.

In the past year, for instance, I took several backpacking and hiking trips—some of them with various combinations of my family (see tip no. 2 below)—including backpacking in the Grand Canyon in late March and in April in southern Utah’s Buckskin Gulch and Paria Canyon and dayhiking in Capitol Reef National Park; yet another incredible backpacking trip in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains in August; a six-day solo hike mostly on a section of the Continental Divide Trail in Wyoming’s Wind River Range in September; and a three-week family trip to New Zealand back in late autumn 2024 to trek the Routeburn and Milford tracks and do some mountain biking and dayhiking—including arguably the best dayhike in New Zealand, the Tongariro Alpine Crossing. Watch for my upcoming stories about these trips that I haven’t yet written about.

Planning your next big adventure? See “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips
and “The 25 Best National Park Dayhikes.”

 

A backpacker at Evolution Lake on the John Muir Trail in Evolution Basin, Kings Canyon National Park.
Marco Garofalo at Evolution Lake on the John Muir Trail in Evolution Basin, Kings Canyon National Park. Click photo to see all stories about High Sierra backpacking trips at this blog.

But the point is not whether you’re getting out as much as someone else or where you go—it’s whether you’re doing what’s necessary to satisfy your need for the release and happiness the outdoors provides, or at least come as close to that ideal as possible.

In many respects, most people reading this story face similar challenges and obstacles and I think you will find that these tips can help improve your life. Please share your thoughts on them, or your own tricks for getting out more, in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

A backpacker on the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park. Click on the photo for my expert e-book to backpacking the Teton Crest Trail.

No. 1 Plan Trips Weeks or Months in Advance

When was the last time you had the freedom to take off on the spur of the moment? Probably been years, right?

Many people lack that flexibility, which means that your outdoor recreation, like your work, has to be scheduled or it doesn’t happen. That’s true whether it’s your regular, short local hikes and other outings or longer trips backpacking, hiking, and camping in many national parks, such as Grand Teton, Yosemite, Glacier, and Grand Canyon, or an international adventure like trekking hut to hut in Iceland (lead photo at top of story), which require making reservations months in advance.

I usually have at least three trips in some planning stage; and by late April every year, I typically have blocks of my summer booked with trips long and short. For years, I’ve also maintained a list of trip ideas with some details or links to information; that document is now nearly 23,000 words and the list keeps getting longer, not shorter.

I need to get busy. So do you.

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A teenage boy and tweener girl standing on the crater rim of Mount St. Helens, Washington.
My son, Nate, and daughter, Alex, standing on the crater rim of Mount St. Helens, Washington. Click photo for a menu of all stories about family adventures at The Big Outside.
A mother and young daughter backpacking the West Rim Trail in Zion National Park.
My wife, Penny, and our daughter, Alex, backpacking the West Rim Trail in Zion National Park.

No. 2 Involve Your Family

As a parent, the best way to get outdoors more is to get your kids involved at a very young age—carrying them on hikes and other activities before they’re walking, then letting them move under their own power as soon as they can walk. Since our kids were babies, we’ve taken them on adventures that were realistic for their ages and abilities. Now young adults, they have—to our joy, for many reasons—grown into enthusiastic and very capable backpackers, climbers, skiers, and whitewater boaters.

I believe part of the reason for that is that, for years, I took annual father-son and father-daughter trips, which my kids loved and looked forward to as much as I did—and we still do, even as they’ve become independent and busier with their own lives.

The benefits of that include creating additional opportunities for me to get outside and ingraining in our children a love for the outdoors that my wife and I have always shared.

Plus, by getting my family out as much as they’re willing to go, they occasionally don’t mind when I take off without them on a trip with friends (or maybe they’re just happy to get a break from me).

Like this tip? You may also like my “10 Tips For Raising Outdoors-Loving Kids
and “The 10 Best Family Outdoor Adventure Trips.”

 

A backpacker descending from Panhandle Gap on the Wonderland Trail, Mount Rainier National Park.
Todd Arndt descending from Panhandle Gap on the Wonderland Trail, Mount Rainier National Park. Click photo for my Wonderland Trail e-book.

No. 3 Get Organized

If the thought of packing up your gear for a weekend erects a mental hurdle to going, lower that hurdle. Get organized and efficient not just about packing for a trip, but also about storing gear after trips; having it ready to go helps you get out the door more quickly. Keep supplies like stove fuel and backpacking food on hand. That way, taking off for a night or two of camping or backpacking doesn’t feel like mobilizing an army.

Plan your next great backpacking trip in Yosemite, Grand Teton,
and other parks using my expert e-books.

Teenage boys backpacking to the Baron Lakes in Idaho's Sawtooth Wilderness.
My son, Nate, and two friends backpacking to the Baron Lakes in Idaho’s Sawtooth Wilderness. Click photo for my expert e-book to “The Best Backpacking Trip in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains.”

No. 4 Be the Planner

Just about anyone appreciates much of the trip planning being done for them. I look at my list of trip ideas and propose specific adventures to my family and friends. By repeatedly coming up with ideas for great trips and facilitating them, I motivate my family and have cultivated a stable of capable, fun friends to choose from, depending on the nature of the trip.

While it requires some time from me, I enjoy thinking about and planning new adventures. Plus, when you’re taking the lead-planning role, other people are often willing to have duties delegated to them.

I can help you plan the best backpacking, hiking, or family adventure of your life.
Click here now to learn more.

 

A hiker atop Ryan Mountain in Joshua Tree National Park.
David Ports atop Ryan Mountain in Joshua Tree National Park.

No. 5 Build Extra Time Into a Business Trip

Whether it’s a week or more, a weekend, a day, or even a morning or afternoon before catching a flight home, when traveling for work, schedule time to get outside. Before you depart on the trip, find out about the local recreation options where you’re headed—the choices may pleasantly surprise you.

For example, on a visit to Joshua Tree National Park, I added two days to a business trip, and a good friend who lived in California was able to schedule a work trip to that area at the same time. We enjoyed bonus days hiking and rock climbing together without incurring more travel time or expense.

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A backpacker along the Continental Divide Trail in Glacier National Park.
Todd Arndt beside Red Eagle Creek, along the Continental Divide Trail in Glacier National Park. Click photo to learn more about backpacking in Glacier.

No. 6 Get a Regular Partner

Self-motivating is hard. Find a partner for regular, local hikes, rides, or trail runs who’s compatible with your style and pace. Even better, find or organize a group of like-minded people who enjoy the same activities. Besides pushing each other to work a little harder, you’ll motivate one another to stick to the commitment.

No. 7 Schedule Your Weekly Outings

Don’t treat exercise and outdoor recreation as something you’ll get to at the end of the day or on the weekend if there’s time after everything else gets done—that’s the best way to ensure it doesn’t happen.

Schedule your regular, local outings during the week, like short hikes or trail runs, bike rides, and gym workouts, just like you schedule work or personal appointments.

Carve out time for it on your calendar—and promising a partner that you will be there (tip no. 6)—creates a stronger commitment to the activity and helps turn it into part of your regular routine. That’s one critical key to creating more satisfaction and happiness in your life.

Score a backcountry permit in popular parks like Yosemite, Grand Canyon, and Grand Teton
using my “10 Tips For Getting a Hard-to-Get National Park Backcountry Permit.”

 

The view of Mount Rainier from the Eagle Peak Trail in Mount Rainier National Park.
The view of Mount Rainier from the Eagle Peak Trail in Mount Rainier National Park. Click photo to see “The Best Uncrowded National Park Dayhikes.”

No. 8 Get Up Early

Whether I’m itching to knock off a quick hike that my family’s not interested in at the end of a vacation, or I’m trying to squeeze in a trail run or ride on a weekend at home, getting up early, before them, and getting it done fast has long been a strategy that works for me.

I’ve taken some really nice hikes in national parks—like the Eagle Peak Trail in Mount Rainier National Park (photo above), which I consider one of “The Best Uncrowded National Park Dayhikes”—and other places, that I would not have otherwise fit in, just by getting out really early. It’s also a cooler, often lovely time of day, when you might get the bonus of seeing wildlife or enjoying beautiful morning light.


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Runners and wildflowers in the Boise Foothills.
Runners and wildflowers in the Boise Foothills.

No. 9 Live Near Trails

Your ease of access to local trails and outdoor-recreation opportunities greatly affects how often you get outside. I’ve lived in rural areas where, ironically, I always had to drive to go hiking, trail running, or mountain biking. Now I live near the densely populated center of a city of over 200,000 people, but I can bike, run, or walk with minutes to access a trails network that spans over 200 miles.

While moving obviously isn’t an option for everyone, if you live inconveniently far from trails, bike paths, rivers, or other places where you enjoy outdoor recreation, maybe it’s just time to move closer. Or if you don’t have trails or parks near you, be an advocate for them with your local government.

Get the right gear for your trips. See “The 10 Best Backpacking Packs
and “The 10 Best Backpacking Tents.”

 

A hiker scrambling Chickenout Ridge on Idaho's 12,662-foot Borah Peak.
My wife, Penny, scrambling Chickenout Ridge on Idaho’s 12,662-foot Borah Peak.

No. 10 Make a Deal With Your Spouse

My wife and I always gave each other the freedom to get out for daily exercise or occasional trips when our kids were little. Many parents find that’s a difficult stage in life, when you can easily fall off an exercise routine and not get outside much—and suddenly discover that five years have passed since you last got out on a real trip—unless you’re both willing to do these things separately, taking turns.

There’s a side benefit in that each of you will experience the rewards of some solo time with kids. If you don’t have children, you and your spouse may just not enjoy all the same activities or level of intensity. Give each other the space you each need to be happy.

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10 Great John Muir Trail Section Hikes https://thebigoutsideblog.com/10-great-john-muir-trail-section-hikes/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/10-great-john-muir-trail-section-hikes/#comments Mon, 27 Oct 2025 09:05:04 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=55973 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Like moths to a flame—or perhaps pikas to talus—at some point, many serious backpackers will decide they must thru-hike the John Muir Trail. But some will wonder whether they’re ready or have the time for a 221-mile hike that may take up to three weeks—and many will fail to get one of the most sought-after wilderness permits in the country. What then?

Well, there’s no better Plan B for a JMT thru-hike than knocking off a section of it as a consolation prize or to dial in your strategy and gear for eventually adding “America’s Most Beautiful Trail” to your tick list. And for virtually any JMT section hike, you’ll have much better chances of getting a wilderness permit than you will for a JMT thru-hike.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A backpacker hiking past Minaret Lake in the Ansel Adams Wilderness, High Sierra.
Marco Garofalo hiking past Minaret Lake in the Ansel Adams Wilderness, High Sierra.

The Best Hikes on the John Muir Trail

I put together the John Muir Trail section hikes described in this article—which vary greatly in distance and lie spread out along the entire JMT (most of which overlaps the Pacific Crest Trail/PCT)—based on my personal experience thru-hiking it in an admittedly insane seven days as well as numerous trips on JMT sections and throughout the High Sierra from Yosemite to Sequoia-Kings Canyon National Park. I’ve also backpacked thousands of miles all over the country over the past three-plus decades, including the 10 years I spent as Northwest Editor at Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog.

You’ll see on maps that it’s certainly feasible to combine some of the section hikes described below in a longer, partial-JMT trek. And some of the trips in this article hit wonderful stretches of the JMT while also covering significant distances off the JMT, exploring other, very worthy corners of the High Sierra.

Camping restrictions exist on some heavily used sections of the John Muir Trail; check each park’s or forest’s website when planning a trip. Bear canisters are required throughout the High Sierra. (See my favorite bear canister in this review.)

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A backpacker on the John Muir Trail hiking toward Silver Pass in the John Muir Wilderness.
Mark Fenton backpacking the John Muir Trail toward Silver Pass in the John Muir Wilderness, High Sierra.

This article includes links to feature-length stories about trips, which contain numerous photos and often a video. See also “How to Get a John Muir Trail Wilderness Permit,” “Thru-Hiking the John Muir Trail: What You Need to Know,” and all stories about backpacking the John Muir Trail at The Big Outside, plus “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips.”

Many stories at my blog, like this one, are partially free for anyone to read, but reading them in full (and seeing all the trips I describe in this story) is an exclusive benefit of subscribing to The Big Outside—which gives you full access to all stories at this blog, including my expert tips on planning the many trips I’ve personally taken and written about.

Check out my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you plan any of these adventures, variations of these best hikes on the John Muir Trail, your JMT thru-hike, or any trip you read about at The Big Outside, and my expert e-books to many classic backpacking trips.

If you have any questions or suggestions for other JMT sections or High Sierra trips, please share them in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

Planning your next big adventure? See “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips
and “Tent Flap With a View: 25 Favorite Backcountry Campsites.”

A backpacker on the John Muir Trail above Thousand Island Lake in the Ansel Adams Wilderness.
Todd Arndt backpacking the John Muir Trail above Thousand Island Lake in the Ansel Adams Wilderness, High Sierra.

Tuolumne Meadows to Reds Meadow

36 miles

From the Lyell Canyon/Rafferty Creek Trailhead at the east end of Tuolumne Meadows, at 8,700 feet in Yosemite, you can hike just over a half-mile to jump on the JMT southbound. From there, you’ll remain on the John Muir Trail for the next 35 miles to Reds Meadow.

Backpackers crossing Donohue Pass from Yosemite into the Ansel Adams Wilderness on the John Muir Trail.
Todd Arndt and Heather Dorn crossing Donohue Pass from Yosemite into the Ansel Adams Wilderness on the John Muir Trail.

A likely easier permit to get compared to starting at the JMT’s traditional northern terminus, the Happy Isles Trailhead in Yosemite Valley, this section hike ascends some 2,300 feet to cross 11,056-foot Donahue Pass from Yosemite into the Ansel Adams Wilderness, then mostly cruises downhill past Thousand Island and Garnet lakes and a few smaller ones before reaching Reds. 

A relatively easy but scenic JMT introduction, this 35.7-mile section also offers the logistical conveniences of not requiring two vehicles or to pay for a shuttle or have someone drop you off, with public bus and shuttle services connecting Tuolumne and Reds (as well as Yosemite Valley). Add about 24 miles—making it a 60-mile hike—by starting at Yosemite Valley, also a great, weekend or three-day JMT section hiking to Tuolumne Meadows.

See photos and read about this section of the JMT in my story “Thru-Hiking the John Muir Trail in 7 Days: Amazing Experience or Certifiably Insane?

Plan your next great backpacking adventure in Yosemite
and other flagship parks using my expert e-books.

A hiker atop Half Dome, high above Yosemite Valley in Yosemite National Park.
Mark Fenton atop Half Dome, high above Yosemite Valley. Click photo to get my custom trip planning for your JMT hike or any trip you read about at this blog.

Agnew Meadows to Yosemite Valley

52 miles

You may notice that this hike is the only one in this article described as hiking the JMT northbound—not because any of these trips cannot be hiked in either direction, but because many JMT thru-hikers and section hikers go southbound in order to gradually acclimate to the higher elevations of the southern trail. But the benefit of hiking this section northbound is an easier wilderness permit to obtain—versus trying to start at the JMT’s northern terminus in Yosemite Valley—for a hike that combines a great stretch of the trail through the Ansel Adams Wilderness and the JMT’s entire Yosemite segment.

A hiker on the John Muir Trail below Cathedral Peak in Yosemite.
Heather Dorn hiking the John Muir Trail below Cathedral Peak in Yosemite.

From Agnew Meadows at over 8,300 feet—where there are various possible starting trailheads—the shortest route to the JMT reaches it just 3.7 miles from the trailhead, at the west shore of Shadow Lake, where you’ll turn north and remain on the trail for the next roughly 48 miles to Yosemite Valley (depending on the route you take through Tuolumne Meadows and whether you opt for diversions off the JMT to Clouds Rest and Half Dome).

After passing two of the trail’s prettiest lakes, Garnet and Thousand Island, this route ascends steadily to enter Yosemite at 11,056-foot Donohue Pass. From there, it’s virtually all downhill through Lyell Canyon to Tuolumne Meadows, Cathedral Pass and Lakes, the meadows of Sunrise below the peaks of the Cathedral Range, past the Half Dome Trail junction—a highly recommended side trip—and the brink of thunderous, 594-foot Nevada Fall, finishing at the JMT’s northern terminus, the Happy Isles Trailhead in Yosemite Valley.

See photos and more info about this route and Yosemite in “High Sierra Ramble: 130 Miles On—and Off—the John Muir Trail” and “The 12 Best Dayhikes in Yosemite,” and see all stories about backpacking in Yosemite at The Big Outside.

Read all of this story and ALL stories at The Big Outside,
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A backpacker hiking the John Muir Trail above Helen Lake in Kings Canyon N.P., High Sierra.
Marco Garofalo backpacking the John Muir Trail above Helen Lake in Kings Canyon N.P. Click photo to read “Thru-Hiking the John Muir Trail: What You Need to Know.”

North Lake-South Lake Loop

57 miles

From the Piute Pass/North Lake Trailhead, at 9,360 feet, to the South Lake/Bishop Pass Trailhead, at over 9,800 feet, this near-loop—the trailheads lie a short drive apart—constitutes, mile for mile, not just one of the best hikes along the John Muir Trail, but also one of the best multi-day hikes in the High Sierra.

A backpacker hiking the John Muir Trail south toward LeConte Canyon, Kings Canyon National Park.
David Ports backpacking the John Muir Trail south toward LeConte Canyon, Kings Canyon National Park.

Located within the John Muir Wilderness of the Inyo National Forest (which is the permitting agency) and a corner of Kings Canyon National Park, this hike features nearly 27 miles of the JMT’s finest miles along the South Fork San Joaquin River, past alpine lakes rippling below soaring cliffs in the Evolution Basin, over 11,955-foot Muir Pass, and through LeConte Canyon, with its own towering granite walls and peaks.

The loop also crosses two other passes, Piute at 11,423 feet and Bishop at 11,972 feet; Humphreys Basin at 11,000 feet below Mount Humphreys, which towers to almost 14,000 feet, and the wall of peaks along the Glacier Divide; plus Dusy Basin at over 11,000 feet, below the massive crest of the Palisades’ 13ers and 14ers; and follows the courses of Piute and Evolution creeks past waterfalls and roaring cascades. There’s not a dull moment on this entire hike.

Find more information at fs.usda.gov/recarea/inyo/recreation/recarea/?recid=21048&actid=51 and fs.usda.gov/recarea/inyo/recarea/?recid=20358&actid=50.

Want to hike the John Muir Trail?
Click here for expert, detailed advice you won’t get elsewhere.

A backpacker hiking the John Muir Trail to Glen Pass, Kings Canyon N.P.
Mark Fenton backpacking the JMT to Glen Pass in Kings Canyon National Park.

Rae Lakes Loop

41 miles

This 41.4-mile loop in Kings Canyon National Park earns its status as one of the most enduringly popular backpacking trips in the entire High Sierra—and certainly one of the best hikes on the John Muir Trail, even though much of the loop stays off the JMT, exploring the backcountry of Kings Canyon National Park amid the skyscraping peaks of the southern High Sierra—for a few good reasons.

The Rae Lakes Valley, along the John Muir Trail in Kings Canyon National Park.
The Rae Lakes Valley, along the John Muir Trail in Kings Canyon National Park.

But foremost that it features an outstanding section of the JMT through the Rae Lakes Valley and over 11,978-foot Glen Pass, the loop’s only high pass.

Starting at Road’s End, at 5,035 feet in Yosemite Valley-like Kings Canyon, the loop gradually ascends the valleys of the South Fork Kings Canyon River and Bubbs Creek (when hiking clockwise) and finishes down the Bubbs Creek Valley.

Besides the convenience of a loop hike at a distance that many backpackers will consider moderate—plus just one high pass to cross, making it a bit easier than several section hikes in this article—it also begins on the west side of the High Sierra, less than a day’s drive from major airports and most Californians, helping to explain the huge demand for this permit.

Find more information at https://www.nps.gov/seki/planyourvisit/rae-lakes-loop.htm.

Do the JMT right. See “How to Get a John Muir Trail Wilderness Permit
and “Thru-Hiking the John Muir Trail: What You Need to Know.”

A hiker at Trail Crest on Mount Whitney.
Mark Fenton at Trail Crest on Mount Whitney.

Kearsarge Pass Trailhead to Whitney Portal

48.6 miles

This section hike is not for the faint of heart or backpackers who struggle with high elevations. But the reward for this serious effort is some of the biggest scenery and highest points on the John Muir Trail, including the summit of Mount Whitney—certainly a highlight of any JMT thru-hike or section hike.

A backpacker on the John Muir Trail below Forester Pass in Sequoia National Park.
A backpacker north of Forester Pass on the John Muir Trail in Sequoia National Park.

While it begins with a climb of almost 2,700 feet in 4.7 miles from the Kearsarge Pass Trailhead, at 9,185 feet, past a string of small lakes in the John Muir Wilderness to 11,845-foot Kearsarge Pass—where you enter Kings Canyon National Park—you’ll reach the JMT south of Glen Pass in just 7.5 miles and follow it southbound for 30.7 miles to its southern terminus atop 14,505-foot Mount Whitney.

The JMT makes a gradual ascent of the Bubbs Creek Valley to 13,180-foot Forester Pass, the trail’s highest, enters Sequoia National Park and descends through a stark alpine lakes basin at over 12,000 feet, and then makes a long, grueling ascent of almost 4,000 feet up the west face of Whitney to its broad summit.

From there, it’s a long, 10.4-mile and over 6,000-foot descent to the Whitney Portal Trailhead at nearly 8,400 feet. Starting at the Kearsarge Pass Trailhead lends you better odds getting a permit than trying to start at Whitney Portal—one of the most popular trailheads in the High Sierra.

See my stories “Thru-Hiking the John Muir Trail in 7 Days: Amazing Experience or Certifiably Insane?” and “Roof of the High Sierra: A Father-Son Climb of Mount Whitney.”

Get the right gear for your trips.
See “The Best Backpacking Gear for the John Muir Trail.”

See all stories about backpacking the John Muir Trail at The Big Outside and “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips.”

Whether you’re a beginner or seasoned backpacker, you’ll learn new tricks for making all of your trips go better in my stories “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be,” “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” and “A Practical Guide to Lightweight and Ultralight Backpacking.” With a paid subscription to The Big Outside, you can read all of those three stories for free; if you don’t have a subscription, you can download the e-book versions of “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” the lightweight and ultralight backpacking guide, and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”

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Hiking and Backpacking the Canadian Rockies—A Photo Gallery https://thebigoutsideblog.com/hiking-and-backpacking-the-canadian-rockies-a-photo-gallery/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/hiking-and-backpacking-the-canadian-rockies-a-photo-gallery/#comments Sat, 25 Oct 2025 09:00:33 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=59939 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

While I always prefer to get as far from any road as possible whenever I visit a mountain range, one truth that may—and perhaps must—be said of the Canadian Rockies is that they will leave you smitten with an lifelong, unshakeable love before you even step out of the car. Driving to any trailhead along the 143-mile-long (232-kilometer) Icefields Parkway between Lake Louise and the town of Jasper, or along the Trans-Canada Highway across the mountains, and you will struggle to sound like a literate person as superlatives and simple gasps of “wow” roll repeatedly off your tongue. On my most recent visit we saw, in addition to countless, sizable glaciers tumbling off a chain of peaks stretching for miles, perhaps the largest grizzly bear of my life (a sow with two cubs), two bull elk with racks possibly broader than my wingspan, and a pod of bighorn sheep—all from the car in one afternoon on the Icefields Parkway.

But if you’re like me, you go to the Canadian Rockies to walk deeply into the mountains, either for a day or multiple days. This story will provide you with a window into that experience, sharing images from many of the backpacking trips and dayhikes I have taken in Canada’s Rockies over the past three-plus decades, including the 10 years I spent as Northwest Editor of Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A backpacker hiking over Cataract Pass on the Nigel, Cataract and Cline Passes Route in the Canadian Rockies.
My wife, Penny, backpacking over Cataract Pass on the Nigel, Cataract and Cline Passes Route in the Canadian Rockies.

Straddling the Continental Divide in the provinces of British Columbia and Alberta, the Canadian Rockies extend for about 1,000 miles/1,600 kilometers from northern British Columbia to Waterton Lakes National Park on the U.S.-Canada border, which bumps up against America’s Glacier National Park. Spanning over 5.8 million acres (over 9,100 square miles or 23,600 square kilometers), the Canadian Rocky Mountain Parks World Heritage Site encompasses four national parks (Banff, Jasper, Yoho, and Kootenay) . and three provincial parks (Mount Robson, Mount Assiniboine, and Hamber).

That’s a very large area—nearly equal to Yellowstone, Everglades, Grand Canyon, and Glacier national parks combined. The phrase “you could spend a lifetime exploring it” gets rolled out hyperbolically a bit too often, but when applied to the Canadian Rockies, the descriptor rings true.

Every time I go there, I wonder whether there’s a mountain range in the Lower 48 that really compares with the Canadian Rockies. Seriously.

Floe Lake, along the Rockwall Trail in Canada's Kootenay National Park.
Floe Lake, along the Rockwall Trail in Canada’s Kootenay National Park.

In late July and August 2023, three-fourths of my family, joined by a father-daughter who are longtime friends of ours, backpacked a pair of three-day trips and took some dayhikes in Banff, Jasper, and Yoho national parks. We started with the Skyline Trail in Jasper (lead photo at top of story), a classic, three-day, 27.3-mile/44-kilometer traverse usually hiked south-to-north, from the Maligne Lake Trailhead to the Signal Mountain Trailhead, just southeast of the town of Jasper. For much of its distance, the Skyline stays true to its name, following the crest of a mountain range with constant panoramas of massive walls of rock rising in every direction.

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A backpacker hiking along the Brazeau River on the Nigel, Cataract, and Cline Passes Route, Canadian Rockies.
My wife, Penny, backpacking along the Brazeau River on the Nigel, Cataract, and Cline Passes Route, Canadian Rockies.

That was followed by the Nigel, Cataract, and Cline Passes Route, a small sampler of the Great Divide Trail, a 698-mile/1,123-kilometer trail stretching from Waterton Lakes National Park to the GDT’s northern terminus in Kakwa Provincial Park. From a trailhead on the Icefields Parkway in northern Banff, we hiked over a first pass into a southern corner of Jasper, then up a valley sliced by the meandering, emerald-green, glaciated Brazeau River to cross a second pass below a hanging glacier, entering the White Goat Wilderness, where we spent two nights in an alpine basin ringed by rocky peaks, with yet another tongue of ice dangling off a mountain just beyond our camp.

This post also includes photos from my family’s four-day backpacking trip several years ago on the approximately 34-mile/54-kilometer Rockwall Trail in Kootenay National Park. Well known among Canadian backpackers but less so among Americans and other international trekkers, the Rockwall’s name comes from its defining geological feature: a massive limestone escarpment plastered with glaciers and towering in some locations about 3,000 feet/900 meters above the trail. Backpackers follow the base of this wall for more than 18 miles/30 kilometers. It’s no exaggeration to liken it to dozens of the tallest cliff in Yosemite Valley, El Capitan, lined up in a row stretching for miles.

Click on the photo gallery below to open it and use right and left arrow keys to scroll through it. Scroll below the gallery for a links to menus of stories about the Canadian Rockies at The Big Outside.

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See all stories about hiking and backpacking in the Canadian Rockies at The Big Outside.

I’ve helped many readers plan an unforgettable backpacking trip in the Canadian Rockies and elsewhere. Want my help with yours? See my Custom Trip Planning page to learn more.

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15 Adventures on Earth That Will Change Your Life https://thebigoutsideblog.com/15-adventures-on-earth-that-will-change-your-life/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/15-adventures-on-earth-that-will-change-your-life/#comments Mon, 20 Oct 2025 09:06:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=15723 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Can travel “change your life?” How many experiences have such an enormous impact? I can name several that shifted my perspective on adventure or expanded how I view the world and other people. Exploring the surreal landscapes of Iceland and Patagonia. Walking among Earth’s highest mountains in Nepal, through remote villages where we experienced cultures far different from our own. Immersing myself in the mountain lifestyle on hut treks in the Alps like the Tour du Mont Blanc (photo above). And seeing unforgettable places like Norway’s Jotunheimen National ParkItaly’s Dolomites, and Alaska’s Glacier Bay through the unclouded eyes of my kids.

Our earliest and sometimes most inspirational experiences usually happen within our own national borders, and often close to where we grew up or live. (That was the case for me on a bicycle tour with two buddies in our home state when we were 19.) And without question, several U.S. national parks deserve a spot on any list of the world’s must-see destinations, among them Yellowstone, Grand Canyon, Yosemite, Glacier, Zion, and the Everglades—not to mention several parks in Alaska, where you can see the breadth of wildlife that once existed all over the planet.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A mother and daughter hiking in the Pale di San Martino, Dolomite Mountains, Italy.
My wife, Penny, and daughter, Alex, on a trek through Italy’s Dolomite Mountains.

But there’s something about traveling abroad that puts everything you see, hear, and touch under a magnifying glass. Everything is exotic. People talk and think differently. Culture is alien, history a refreshing and informative new collection of stories.

Blend those elements into a hike through mountains you’ve never seen before, or paddling through a pristine landscape, and you have the formula for an experience that does alter our perception of the world and our place in it. Take a child on a trip like that and you may reroute the trajectory of a young person’s life—very much for the better.

A hiker overlooking the Naranjo de Bulnes peak in Spain's Picos de Europa National Park.
My son, Nate, overlooking the Naranjo de Bulnes peak in Spain’s Picos de Europa.

This article describes 15 adventures I’ve taken in the U.S., Europe, Canada, Asia, and New Zealand—all of them trips worth adding to your list. These short descriptions provide links to feature-length stories about each trip at The Big Outside that include many images and tips for planning those trips yourself. (Those stories are partially free for anyone to read but require a paid subscription to The Big Outside to read in full, including my planning tips.)

Please share your thoughts on any of these trips, or suggest others that have changed your life, in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

Setting off on a life-changing experience demands self-motivation and the journey begins with the planning. Get started now.

Bon voyage.

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Hikers descending off Mount Bláhnúkur, above Landmannalaugar, Iceland.
My daughter, Alex, and son, Nate, descending off Mount Bláhnúkur, above Landmannalaugar in Iceland’s Central Highlands.

Hiking in Iceland

Steam from hot springs and fumaroles rises from scores of points stretching to a distant horizon. The landscape is a kaleidoscope of color—paint-can spills of ochre, pink, gold, plum, brown, rust, and honey against a backdrop of electric-lime moss and July snowfields smeared across the highlands. An old, hardened lava flow pours down one mountainside in a jumbled train wreck of black rhyolite. And that’s just day one on the Laugavegur Trail.

Alftavatn Lake. along the Laugavegur Trail. Iceland.
Alftavatn Lake. along the Laugavegur Trail. Iceland.

A typically four-day, hut-to-hut trek in Iceland’s remote Central Highlands, it belongs on any list of the world’s most beautiful paths—as does the Fimmvörðuháls Trail, a two-day addition to the Laugavegur that’s arguably even more stunning. Cap the adventure of a lifetime taking dayhikes along the Ring Road.

Read my blog story about my family’s hut trek on these two trails, “A Family Hikes Iceland’s Laugavegur and Fimmvörðuháls Trails.” See also “9 Great Hikes and Walks Along Iceland’s Ring Road,” and “Earth, Wind, and Fire: A Journey to the Planet’s Beginnings in Iceland.”

Ready to hike one of the world’s great treks? Click here now for my e-book
The Complete Guide to Trekking Iceland’s Laugavegur and Fimmvörðuháls Trails.”

 

A hiker on a trail overlooking the Mont Blanc massif in Switzerland.
A hiker on a trail overlooking the Mont Blanc massif in Switzerland.

Trekking the Tour du Mont Blanc

Look at any list of the world’s greatest hiking trails, and the Tour du Mont Blanc (photo at top of story) almost invariably occupies a spot at or near the top of it. The first reason is the sheer majesty of this roughly 105-mile (170k) walking path around the “Monarch of the Alps:” Crossing several mountain passes reaching nearly 9,000 feet, it delivers views of glaciers, pointy peaks and “aiguilles,” and the snowy dome of Mont Blanc.

A young teenage girl descending from the Fenetre d’Arpette on the Tour du Mont Blanc in Switzerland.
My daughter, Alex, descending the steep trail from the Fenetre d’Arpette pass on the Tour du Mont Blanc in Switzerland. Click photo for my e-book to the Tour du Mont Blanc.

But there’s also the rich cultural experience of passing through three nations—France, Italy, and Switzerland—as well as some of the best food I’ve eaten on any international trip. Plus, the abundance of scenic mountain towns and villages and availability of public transportation allows hikers to customize their trek, choosing which sections to hike depending on difficulty, weather, and how they feel.

See my story “Hiking the Tour du Mont Blanc at an 80-Year-Old Snail’s Pace” at The Big Outside.

Get my expert e-book “The Perfect Plan for Hiking the Tour du Mont Blanc.”

Or click here now to get more than 20% off on my e-books to three great world treks:
The Tour du Mont Blanc, New Zealand’s Milford Track, and Iceland’s Laugavegur Trail!

 

The largest of the three Emerald Lakes along the Tongariro Alpine Crossing, North Island, New Zealand.
The largest of the three Emerald Lakes along the Tongariro Alpine Crossing, North Island, New Zealand. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan any trip you read about at this blog.

Hiking New Zealand’s Tongariro National Park

Tongariro National Park, in New Zealand’s central North Island, looks like a place devastated by a very big bomb—which is sort of what happened, but countless times. Its volcanoes remain active: One erupted 45 times in the 20th century and another ranks among the world’s most active. And on the Tongariro Alpine Crossing, a 12-mile/19.4-kilometer traverse of much of the park, you’ll soak up almost constant views of these rugged peaks, broad craters, and lakes that all but glow with color in this stark landscape.

A hiker at the rim of Red Crater in New Zealand's Tongariro National Park.
A hiker at the rim of Red Crater in New Zealand’s Tongariro National Park.

Arguably the best dayhike in New Zealand and among the best in the world, it’s no casual stroll, with nearly 6,000 feet/1,700 meters of combined uphill and downhill, including steep, loose terrain in spots. But among the highlights, the panorama from the rim of Red Crater overlooks several volcanoes, and the Emerald Lakes and Blue Lake make their names seem inadequately descriptive.

See my story from my most recent trip, “Hiking New Zealand’s Classic Tongariro Alpine Crossing” and my story from a previous hike, “Super Volcanoes: Hiking the Steaming Peaks of New Zealand’s Tongariro National Park.”

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Backpackers hiking the Skyline Trail north toward Tekarra camp, Jasper National Park, Canadian Rockies.
Backpackers hiking the Skyline Trail below Mount Tekarra in Jasper National Park, Canadian Rockies.

Backpacking the Skyline Trail in the Canadian Rockies

The Skyline Trail makes a 27.3-mile/44-kilometer traverse of the Maligne Range in Jasper National Park—the much-less-visited but larger sister park of its joined-at-the-hip sibling, Banff, in the Canadian Rockies. Remaining above treeline for about 15.5 miles/25 kilometers of its distance and riding the airy (and often windblown) crest of a high ridge at its apex, the Skyline has long been considered a Canadian Rockies classic for its nearly constant panoramas of massive walls of rock and a sea of mountains stretching to distant horizons in every direction.

Every time I go there, I wonder whether there’s a mountain range in the 48 contiguous U.S. states that compares with the Canadian Rockies. Yes, I’m serious.

See my stories “Hiking and Backpacking the Canadian Rockies—A Photo Gallery,” “Backpacking the Skyline Trail in Jasper National Park,” and all stories about backpacking in the Canadian Rockies at The Big Outside.

Want my help planning any trip you read about at this blog?
Click here for expert advice you won’t get anywhere else.

A family trekking the Alta Via 2 in Parco Naturale Paneveggio Pale di San Martino, in Italy's Dolomite Mountains.
My family trekking the Alta Via 2 in Parco Naturale Paneveggio Pale di San Martino, in Italy’s Dolomite Mountains.

Trekking Through Italy’s Dolomite Mountains

On a weeklong, hut-to-hut trek through one of the world’s most spectacular and storied mountain ranges, Italy’s Dolomites, my family hiked a 39-mile (62k) section of the roughly 112-mile (180k) Alta Via 2, or “The Way of the Legends.”

An alpine footpath famous for scenery that puts it in legitimate contention for the title of the most beautiful trail in the world, the AV 2 is also known for comfortable mountain huts with excellent food—and a reputation for being the most remote and difficult of the several multi-day alte vie, or “high paths,” that crisscross the Dolomites. On one of my family’s biggest adventures, we discovered that it was all of those things and more.

See my story “The World’s Most Beautiful Trail: Trekking the Alta Via 2 in Italy’s Dolomites.”

Make your kids want to go again. See “The 10 Best Family Outdoor Adventure Trips.”

A hiker in the Cares Gorge, in northern Spain's Picos de Europa National Park.
My daughter, Alex, hiking through the Cares Gorge in Spain’s Picos de Europa National Park.

Hiking Spain’s Picos de Europa

What if I told you there’s a stunning mountain range in Europe that’s just a few hours’ drive from a major airport, has mountain huts and charming mountain towns, is surprisingly inexpensive to trek through—and you’ve probably never heard of it? Well, I’ve gotten around a fair bit, but I had never heard of northern Spain’s Picos de Europa until just months before my family’s five-day, 52-mile hike through them. Amid jagged limestone peaks rising to over 8,500 feet, we hiked over passes above 7,000 feet and across mind-boggling alpine terrain that conveys a sense of much bigger peaks.

My strong recommendation: Hire local guide Alberto Mediavilla Serrano, the best guide in the Picos; alberto.mediavilla@gmail.com. While following trails there isn’t terribly difficult in good weather, when we got a surprise snowstorm in June that reduced visibility and covered all trail markings, Alberto knew the mountains well enough to find the way in those conditions, advise us to change our plans to take a safer alternate route, and where we could find very reasonably priced rooms and good food in a village that night.

Read my feature story about my family’s trek, “The Best 5-Day Hike in Spain’s Picos de Europa Mountains.”

Get the right pack for you. See “The 10 Best Backpacking Packs
and “The 10 Best Hiking Daypacks.”

A hiker in Torres del Paine National Park, in Chile's Patagonia region.
Jeff Wilhelm hiking in Torres del Paine National Park, in Chile’s Patagonia region.

Trekking Patagonia’s Torres del Paine

Undoubtedly one of the most prized trekking destinations in the world, Torres del Paine National Park is Chile’s Yosemite. In the vast region known as Patagonia, it is a place of severely vertical stone monoliths thousands of feet tall: Imagine looking at Yosemite Valley stacked atop one of the deep valleys of Glacier National Park. Cracked glaciers stretch many miles long and wide, calving into emerald lakes, and the wind will occasionally knock you off your feet. Hiking hut-to-hut or camping on the roughly 31-mile (50k) “W” trek, on the south side of the mountains—where the weather is often better than the north side—takes in some of the park’s finest scenery.

See my story “Patagonian Classic: Trekking Torres del Paine.”

Click here now to plan your next great backpacking adventure using my expert e-books.

Trekkers hiking the Milford Track to Mintauro Hut, Fiordland National Park, New Zealand.
My wife, Penny, daughter, Alex, and Cat hiking the Milford Track to Mintauro Hut, Fiordland National Park, New Zealand. Click photo for my e-book to trekking the Milford Track.

Trekking New Zealand’s Milford Track and Sea Kayaking in Milford Sound

The Milford Track in Fiordland National Park, one of New Zealand’s Great Walks, has earned a reputation as one of the best multi-day hikes on the planet. Measuring 33.2 miles/53.5 kilometers, the trail makes a one-way traverse from giant Lake Te Anau, embraced by vividly green mountains, to Milford Sound, where sheer-walled peaks soar more than 5,000 feet/1,500 meters straight up out of this narrow corridor to the sea.

Sea kayakers in Milford Sound, Fiordland National Park, New Zealand.
Sea kayakers in Milford Sound, Fiordland National Park, New Zealand.

Along the way, you’ll walk through lush rainforest, below scores of ribbon waterfalls plunging hundreds of feet, cross the mountains at 3,786-foot/1,154-meter Mackinnon Pass, and spend nights in basic but comfortable mountain huts.

The Milford Track is also one of the hardest treks in the world to book hut reservations on. Instead (or in addition to trekking the Milford Track), spend a day sea kayaking in Milford Sound, soaking up views of cliffs wearing a thick fur of rainforest; you might even spot bottlenose dolphins and Fiordland crested penguins.

See my stories “Learning to—Love?—the Rain on New Zealand’s Milford Track” and “Photo Gallery: Sea Kayaking New Zealand’s Milford Sound,” and my story about a multi-day sea kayaking trip in Doubtful Sound in Fiordland National Park.

Get my expert e-book “Trekking New Zealand’s World-Famous Milford Track.”
Or get 20% off on both of my e-books to New Zealand’s Milford Track and Routeburn Track.

 

Trekkers above Olavsbu Hut in Norway's Jotunheimen National Park.
Jeff and Jasmine Wilhelm above Olavsbu Hut in Norway’s Jotunheimen National Park.

Trekking Norway’s Jotunheimen National Park

Jotunheimen—which means “Home of the Giants”—contains the highest European mountains north of the Alps, starkly barren peaks rising to more than 8,000 feet. In this rugged, Arctic-looking landscape, vibrantly colorful with shrubs, mosses, and wildflowers, cliffs and mountains look like they were chopped from the earth with an axe, braided rivers meander down mostly treeless valleys, and reindeer roam wild. My family’s 60-mile (96.6k), hut-to-hut trek across Jotunheimen combined pristine wilderness with the most luxurious huts I’ve ever stayed in, a trail network that allows for flexibility in route options, and side hikes to summits with mind-blowing views of mountains buried in snow and ice, including the highest peak in Norway.

See my story “Walking Among Giants: A Three-Generation Hut Trek in Norway’s Jotunheimen National Park.”

Find the right synthetic or down puffy for you. See “The 12 Best Down Jackets.”

A kayaker below the Lamplugh Glacier in Alaska's Glacier Bay National Park.
A kayaker below the Lamplugh Glacier in Alaska’s Glacier Bay National Park.

Sea Kayaking Alaska’s Glacier Bay

On a five-day, guided sea kayaking trip in Southeast Alaska’s Glacier Bay National Park, my family probed deep into one of the most pristine and largest wildernesses left on Earth. Surrounded by snowy peaks smothered in more than 50 glaciers, some of which explosively calve icebergs into the sea, Glacier Bay is a 65-mile-long fjord that opens a window onto what North America looked like when the last Ice Age drew to a close 10,000 years ago. A short list of the many critters you may see includes humpback whales, orcas, brown bears, Steller sea lions, and birds like black-legged kittiwake, pigeon guillemot, bald eagles, two kinds of puffin. Few trips in America are this wild.

See my story “Back to the Ice Age: Sea Kayaking Glacier Bay.”

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Trekking the Dientes Circuit, Chilean Patagonia.
Trekking the Dientes Circuit, Chilean Patagonia.

Backpacking Unknown Patagonia: The Dientes Circuit

Billed as the southernmost trek in the world, the 22.7-mile (36.5k) Dientes Circuit around the jagged, rocky peaks of the Dientes de Navarino, or “Teeth of Navarino,” certainly qualifies as one of the most remote: At 55 degrees south latitude, the Dientes, which reach almost 4,000 feet in elevation, lie just 60 miles from the tip of South America and a short flight from the Antarctic Peninsula.

While renowned treks in Patagonia, like those in Torres del Paine (see above), attract thousands of international trekkers every year, you may not see anyone else in four days on the Dientes Circuit—giving you a sense of what Patagonia was like before it became a darling of the international trekkers’ set. That’s not only because of its remoteness: This is a very strenuous hike that demands expert backcountry skills—all part of the challenge and reward of this unique backpacking trip.

See my story “Unknown Patagonia: Backpacking the Dientes Circuit.”

I’ve helped many readers plan unforgettable backpacking and hiking trips.
Want my help with yours? Click here now.

A trekker hiking above Lake Harris toward Harris Saddle on the Routeburn Track, South Island, New Zealand.
My wife, Penny, hiking above Lake Harris toward Harris Saddle on the Routeburn Track, South Island, New Zealand. Click photo for my expert e-books to trekking the Routeburn Track and Milford Track.

Trekking New Zealand’s Routeburn and Kepler Tracks

Two more of New Zealand’s Great Walks are neighbors of the Milford Track (above) in Fiordland National Park: the world-class, 33.1-kilometer/20.7-mile Routeburn Track, generally done in three days; and the three- to four-day, approximately 37-mile/60-kiloemeter Kepler Track.

A hiker on Mount Luxmore on the Kepler Track in New Zealand's Fiordland National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm on Mount Luxmore on the Kepler Track in New Zealand’s Fiordland National Park.

Both deliver a grand tour of diverse landscapes, from moss-blanketed beech forest to the tussock-carpeted high country, placing them among the most scenic and varied hut treks in a country blessed with a crazy wealth of gorgeous trails. And the Kepler, in particular, presents a relatively mud-, flood-, and hassle-free, hut-to-hut hiking experience—most notably, it’s easier to get hut reservations for the Kepler than the hugely popular Milford and Routeburn. That’s nice in a region where everything from weather to logistics can mess with your adventure plans.

See my stories “Trekking New Zealand’s World-Class Routeburn Track” and “New Zealand’s Best, Uncomplicated Hut Trek: The Kepler Track.” See also my story “Hiking New Zealand’s Hardest Hut Trek, the Dusky Track.”

Get my expert e-book “The Complete Guide to Trekking New Zealand’s Routeburn Track.”
Or get 20% off on both of my e-books to New Zealand’s Milford Track and Routeburn Track.

 

A backpacker on the Rockwall Trail, Kootenay National Park, Canada.
My wife, Penny, backpacking the Rockwall Trail in Kootenay National Park, Canada.

Backpacking the Rockwall Trail in the Canadian Rockies

On the first day of a 34-mile/55-kilometer backpacking trip on the Rockwall Trail in Canada’s Kootenay National Park, my family walked below one of the tallest waterfalls in the Rocky Mountains, 1,154-foot/352-meter Helmet Falls—and that was merely the opening act of a nearly unbroken, 18-mile-long/30-kilometer row of peaks plastered with glaciers and towering as much as 3,000 feet/900 meters above the trail. Backpackers might think those peaks resemble numerous clones of Yosemite’s El Capitan standing shoulder to shoulder.

Well-known among Canadian backpackers but less so outside their country, the Rockwall Trail—and the Skyline Trail (above)—both deserve to be listed among the world’s greatest treks.

See my stories “Hiking and Backpacking the Canadian Rockies—A Photo Gallery,” “Best of the Canadian Rockies: Backpacking the Rockwall Trail,” and all stories about backpacking in the Canadian Rockies at The Big Outside.

Planning a backpacking trip? See “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be
and this menu of all stories with expert backpacking tips at The Big Outside.

 

Trekkers hiking toward the Thorung La mountain pass on Nepal's Annapurna Circuit.
Trekkers hiking toward the Thorung La mountain pass on Nepal’s Annapurna Circuit.

Trekking Nepal’s Annapurna Circuit

The tiny mountain kingdom of Nepal has long held an exalted status in the minds of international trekkers, and the Annapurna Circuit stands beside the trek to Everest base camp as Nepal’s most popular and accessible. Over roughly three weeks, you’ll walk about 150 miles from village to village, below some of the world’s tallest peaks, glaciated giants so unfathomably big that, at times, they can seem drift farther away even as you approach them. You eat and sleep in teahouses while following an ancient trade route over the Thorung La, a mountain pass at 17,769 feet. After three decades of adventures all over the world, this remains one of the most culturally fascinating and beautiful trips I’ve ever taken.

See my story “Himalayan Shangri-La: Trekking Nepal’s Annapurna Circuit.”

I’ve learned a lot traveling the world. See my “10 Tips For Doing Adventure Travel Right.”

A paddle raft in Cliffside Rapid on Idaho's Middle Fork Salmon River.
Our party’s paddle raft in Cliffside Rapid on Idaho’s Middle Fork Salmon River.

Rafting Idaho’s Middle Fork Salmon River

Three times now, my family and about 20 good friends have taken one of the classic multi-day, wilderness river trips in America—and arguably, the greatest: a six-day, whitewater rafting and kayaking trip down the Middle Fork Salmon River with a team of top guides from Middle Fork Rapid Transit. Deep in the largest federal wilderness area in the Lower 48, central Idaho’s 2.4-million-acre Frank Church-River of No Return Wilderness, the Middle Fork has some 100 ratable rapids, many of them class III and IV, not to mention beautiful campsites and side hikes, hot springs, and world-class trout fishing. It’s also one of the prettiest rivers to ever carve a twisting canyon through mountains.

See my stories “Big Water, Big Wilderness: Rafting Idaho’s Middle Fork Salmon River” and “Reunions of the Heart on Idaho’s Middle Fork Salmon River” at The Big Outside.

See all stories about international adventures and family adventures at The Big Outside.

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How to Decide Where to Go Backpacking https://thebigoutsideblog.com/how-to-decide-where-to-go-backpacking/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/how-to-decide-where-to-go-backpacking/#comments Sun, 19 Oct 2025 09:04:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=47795 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Have you been disappointed by backpacking trips that were too hot or too cold or too buggy or too crowded, or too hard or long or short, or where permits weren’t available for the hike you really wanted, or where you had sketchy creek or snow crossings or other scary hazards, or you missed the wildflowers or foliage season or didn’t see much wildlife?

If so, this story is going to help you solve those problems.

You can find abundant information online offering advice on how to plan a backpacking trip (including my 12 expert tips)—some of it good and some, frankly, not very thorough or simply clickbait created by sites lacking any expertise in backpacking. But there’s little advice out there on how to choose where to go backpacking—and many backpackers fail to consider key aspects of trips that greatly affect their experience: They follow an essentially backward decision-making process.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


Backpackers hiking the Tonto Trail east toward Turquoise Canyon, along the Gems Route in the Grand Canyon.
Todd Arndt and David Ports backpacking the Tonto Trail east toward Turquoise Canyon, along the Gems Route in the Grand Canyon. Click photo to see all stories about backpacking in the Grand Canyon at The Big Outside.

While this may sound esoteric and irrelevant to you, I’ve learned that how you decide where to go greatly affects how well your trip goes—it really does matter. The tips below explain the thought process I follow that make my trips much more enjoyable and will do the same for you.

I’ve developed these trip-planning strategies over more than three decades and countless thousands of miles of backpacking all over the United States and around the world, including the 10 years I spent as Northwest Editor of Backpacker magazine and now even longer running this blog.

A backpacker hiking the John Muir Trail above Helen Lake in Kings Canyon N.P., High Sierra.
Marco Garofalo backpacking the John Muir Trail above Helen Lake in Kings Canyon N.P. Click photo to see all stories about the JMT at this blog.

That experience has not only convinced me that much of the success of any outdoors adventure comes down to everything you do before the trip—but it has also refined how I choose each of the numerous multi-day hikes I take every year.

Here’s what I mean by saying many backpackers follow a backward decision-making process: They pick a place they’re eager to explore—say, Yosemite, Glacier, or the Grand Canyon—and the dates that work for them. I do essentially the opposite: choosing from my long list of trip ideas (which is now over 23,000 words) by first considering which of them are best taken during the dates I can go.

A backpacker just north of Jackass Pass in the Cirque of the Towers. in Wyoming's Wind River Range.
Chip Roser just north of Jackass Pass in the Cirque of the Towers. in Wyoming’s Wind River Range. Click photo to see all stories about backpacking in the Winds at The Big Outside.

See my story “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” my All Trips List for a long menu of adventures you can read and learn about at this blog, my expert e-books to numerous five-star backpacking trips, and my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can give you a personalized plan for any trip you read about at The Big Outside.

Click on any photo in this story to read about that trip. And like many stories at The Big Outside, part of this story is free for anyone to read, but reading all of my tips in this story is an exclusive benefit of having a paid subscription.

Got questions about my tips or any of your own to offer? Please share them in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

Planning your next big adventure? See “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips
and “Tent Flap With a View: 25 Favorite Backcountry Campsites.”

A backpacker hiking over Park Creek Pass in North Cascades National Park.
A backpacker hiking over Park Creek Pass in North Cascades National Park.

1. Pick the Right Time of Year

This seems obvious and yet many backpackers get this simple step wrong. My advice: Choose either a place appropriate for your dates or dates appropriate for where you want to go.

You can often find information online—such as at the website of the public land of interest to you—about climate and seasonal variables such as:

  • Average high and low temperatures for each month, sometimes at multiple elevations.
  • Average monthly precipitation and times of year when thunderstorms or snowfall occur.
  • The hours of daylight on your planned dates.
  • When snow melts out at higher elevations.
  • When creeks and streams may be dangerous to cross (see my tips on fording streams).
  • When biting insects are thickest.

Plan your next great backpacking trip using my expert e-books.

A backpacker hiking west from Porcupine Pass on the Uinta Highline Trail, High Uintas Wilderness, Utah.
My son, Nate, backpacking west from Porcupine Pass on the Uinta Highline Trail, High Uintas Wilderness, Utah.

For instance, in the bigger mountains of the U.S. West, snow normally lingers at altitudes above roughly 8,000 feet until around mid-July, while lower elevations may be snow-free by mid- to late spring. Mosquitoes and other biting insects emerge right after the snow largely melts out and linger for several weeks—as do the wildflowers. Late summer often brings moderate temperatures, dry weather, and few bugs—and increasingly, as climate change worsens, wildfires, widespread smoke, and poor air quality and visibility. Foliage color arrives by early autumn and snow may return anytime between September (infrequently) and November (more lastingly).

In the desert Southwest, prime seasons for backpacking are spring and fall, but even within those seasons are micro-seasons that bring changes: temps reaching the most comfortable range and snow melting out by sometime between late March and early May (varying with elevation) and often growing hot by mid- to late May or early June; and pleasant temperatures returning by late September or early October. Late October and early November bring foliage color—accompanied by short, cooler days and sometimes scarcer water sources.

My expert e-books offer detailed advice about the best times of year for each trip and my Custom Trip Planning can help identify the very best time to go for the experience you’re seeking.

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Dawn at Minaret Lake in the Ansel Adams Wilderness, High Sierra.
Dawn at Minaret Lake in the Ansel Adams Wilderness, High Sierra. Click photo to view my photos of the most gorgeous backcountry lakes I’ve ever seen.

2. Pick a Trip That’s Right for Your Party

A primary consideration in choosing where to backpack comes down to who your companions will be. An appropriate trip looks very different for a group of experienced, strong backpackers versus relative beginners or a young family.

Choose a trip that not only fits into your schedule—including travel time—but also whose length in days and miles matches the abilities and desires of your party.

The length of a multi-day hike will dictate the cumulative fatigue everyone feels (see my tips on training for a hike and on recovering from a hike) and possibly increase your chances of encountering bad weather or developing problems like blisters (see my tips on avoiding those).

I’ve helped many readers plan unforgettable backpacking and hiking trips.
Want my help with yours? Click here now.

 

A backpacker on the Teton Crest Trail.
Todd Arndt backpacking the Teton Crest Trail.

The number of days you’re on the trail also dictates how much food weight you must carry—and at typically about two pounds of food per person per day, that adds up, especially if you will carry more than your share of your group’s gear or food weight, for instance, if you’re backpacking with young kids.

See my stories “How to Plan Food for a Backpacking Trip” and “Bear Essentials: How to Store Food When Backcountry Camping.”

Backpackers admiring a big bear poop in Glacier National Park.
My friends Todd and Mark admiring a big bear poop in Glacier National Park.

Research any logistics specific to a place or trail, like a scarcity of water sources that may require you and others to carry extra water—which, at two pounds, two ounces per liter, gets heavy very rapidly—and whether bears pose a major concern and hard-sided canisters are required for food storage, which also adds weight and bulk to your pack.

Some places are relatively beginner-friendly, like southern Utah’s Coyote Gulch, Washington’s Olympic coast, and even some trails in Yosemite. In others, multi-day hikes tend to be moderately difficult overall but can have strenuous days, including Grand Teton, Glacier, Yosemite, and Zion national parks, Utah’s High Uintas, Nevada’s Ruby Crest Trail, and Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains.

Still other destinations present consistently strenuous and rugged hiking, such as Grand Canyon, North Cascades, Sequoia, and Mount Rainier national parks, Mount Hood’s Timberline Trail, and most of the High Sierra, Colorado Rockies, Wind River Range (lead photo at top of story), and New Hampshire’s White Mountains.

See my stories “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips” and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”

See my “10 Tips for Taking Kids on Their First Backpacking Trip
and my very popular “10 Tips For Raising Outdoors-Loving Kids.”

A backpacker hiking to Burro Pass above Matterhorn Canyon, Yosemite National Park.
Todd Arndt backpacking to Burro Pass above Matterhorn Canyon, Yosemite National Park.

3. Is it Still Possible to Get a Permit?

Most national parks and some other public lands (like national forests in the High Sierra) issue a limited number of backcountry permits based on quotas and have systems for both reserving a permit weeks or months in advance of your trip dates and for acquiring a first-come or walk-in permit right before your trip (including Yosemite’s innovative system for reserving a permit two weeks in advance). An advance reservation obviously provides more assurance, while a walk-in permit is riskier and you may not get the itinerary you want.

A tip: When acting far in advance, consider applying for permits and trips in more than one park for the same dates—the cost is relatively low and that improves your chances of securing at least one assured trip.

Read all of this story’s expert tips and ALL stories at The Big Outside,
plus get a FREE e-book! Join now!

 

A backpacker hiking toward Cramer Divide in Idaho's Sawtooth Mountains.
Mae Davis backpacking toward Cramer Divide in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains. Click photo for my expert e-book “The Best Backpacking Trip in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains.”

If you fail to reserve a permit, plan a trip that doesn’t require a permit reservation or where there are no limits on the number of people in the backcountry, as is true in many national forests and federal wilderness areas. You’ll find many options on the All Trips List at The Big Outside, including Washington’s Glacier Peak Wilderness, New Hampshire’s White Mountains and almost all of New England, Idaho’s White Cloud Mountains, and Oregon’s Eagle Cap Wilderness and Mount Hood’s Timberline Trail.

See my stories “10 Tips for Getting a Hard-to-Get National Park Backcountry Permit,” “How to Get a Last-Minute National Park Backcountry Permit,” and “20 Great Backpacking Trips You Can Still Take” when you’re too late to get many permits.

Start out right. See “10 Perfect National Park Backpacking Trips for Beginners
and “The 5 Southwest Backpacking Trips You Should Do First.”

Looking for the right gear for your backpacking trips? See The Big Outside’s Gear Reviews page for categorized menus of gear reviews and expert buying tips.

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The 5 Best Backpacking Trips in Grand Teton National Park https://thebigoutsideblog.com/the-5-best-backpacking-trips-in-grand-teton-national-park/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/the-5-best-backpacking-trips-in-grand-teton-national-park/#comments Sat, 11 Oct 2025 09:05:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=41708 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Here’s a truth I’ve learned from at least two dozen visits to the Tetons since my first backpacking trip on the Teton Crest Trail over 30 years ago: That incomparable, jagged skyline of peaks never fails to ignite a sense of awe and joy. Walking for days through these mountains, with their endless fields of wildflowers, long alpine vistas, and hypnotic mountain lakes, creeks, and waterfalls never grows old. I’m pretty sure I could backpack through Grand Teton National Park 20 more times without the experience ever growing ordinary.

While I rank the Teton Crest Trail among the 10 best backpacking trips in America—a list that draws on more than three decades of backpacking all over the United States, including 10 years as a field editor for Backpacker magazine and longer than that running this blog—the truth is, any backpacking excursion into the Tetons will probably hold a cherished place among the prettiest and most memorable multi-day treks of your life. It will very likely feature some of the most scenic backcountry campsites you’ve ever slept in; a couple of Tetons camps populate my personal list of all-time favorite backcountry campsites.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A backpacker hiking the Teton Crest Trail on Death Canyon Shelf, Grand Teton National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking the Teton Crest Trail, Grand Teton National Park. Click photo for my expert Teton Crest Trail e-book.

The five backpacking trips described below, ranging from nearly 20 miles to about 39 miles, represent my picks for the best multi-day hikes in Grand Teton National Park—a place I have dayhiked, backpacked, and climbed extensively. This list includes my favorite itinerary for a Teton Crest Trail hike, the best short (two- or three-day) backpacking trip in the park, and various options that offer different distances, varying levels of solitude, and opportunities to see different areas of the park.

The peak backpacking season in the Tetons generally begins in mid-July, when higher elevations and passes become mostly snow-free, and runs into September. Some high passes, most notably Paintbrush Divide, can remain snow-covered and potentially dangerous into late July, depending on the previous winter and spring’s snowpack and weather in spring and early summer.

A backpacker on the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park.
David Gordon backpacking the Teton Crest Trail in the North Fork Cascade Canyon.

In early January, the park opens up permit reservations at recreation.gov for backpacking trips from May 1 through Oct. 31, and you can make a reservation up to two days prior to a trip start date. Apply promptly at 8 a.m. Mountain Time the first day reservations open, because many campsites that are available to reserve, especially along the Teton Crest trail, disappear quickly (and the process can feel maddeningly chaotic).

However, the park issues reservations for only about one-third of permits in advance—leaving two-thirds available each night during the hiking season for people seeking walk-in permits, issued no more than one day in advance of starting a trip. High demand makes walk-in permits for camping zones along the Teton Crest Trail and other popular camps hard to get.

See my stories “How to Get a Permit to Backpack the Teton Crest Trail,” “How to Backpack the Teton Crest Trail Without a Permit,” “10 Tips for Getting a Hard-to-Get National Park Backcountry Permit” and “How to Get a Last-Minute, National Park Backcountry Permit.”

My popular, expert e-books “The Complete Guide to Backpacking the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park” and “The Best Short Backpacking Trip in Grand Teton National Park” will tell you everything you need to know to plan and pull off either trip.

And I’ve helped many readers of my blog plan a successful and memorable backpacking trip in the Tetons. See my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can do that for you.

If you’ve backpacked in the Tetons or have other thoughts or suggestions about the best backpacking trips there, I’d appreciate you sharing those in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

See the “5 Reasons You Must Backpack the Teton Crest Trail.”

A backpacker on the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park.
Todd Arndt above the Schoolroom Glacier and the South Fork Cascade Canyon near Hurricane Pass along the Teton Crest Trail. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan this trip.

Death Canyon to String Lake

Having hiked and backpacked all of the side canyons that access the Teton Crest Trail from the park’s east side as well as some on the west side and the full TCT route starting from its southern terminus, my favorite Teton Crest Trail itinerary (and the one I planned for my most recent TCT hike with three friends going there for the first time) is this nearly 36-mile hike from Death Canyon Trailhead to String Lake Trailhead.

Done in anywhere from a rigorous three days to a more moderate five, this route delivers the complete Tetons experience: miles of hiking open meadows and above treeline with endless panoramas, amazing campsites, one of the highest passes crossed by a trail in the range, wildflowers in abundance, enchanting lakes, creeks, and waterfalls, and likely wildlife sightings. Hike south to north and the scenery gets better every day.

Get my e-book “The Complete Guide to Backpacking the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park.”

Dying to backpack in the Tetons? See my expert e-books to the Teton Crest Trail
and the best short backpacking trip there.

A moose along the Teton Crest Trail, North Fork Cascade Canyon, Grand Teton National Park.
A moose along the Teton Crest Trail in the North Fork Cascade Canyon, Grand Teton National Park. Click photo to read about that trip.

Paintbrush Canyon to Cascade Canyon

The park’s most popular backpacking trip for logical reasons—scenery and access—the nearly 20-mile Paintbrush Canyon-Cascade Canyon loop from String Lake offers a highlights reel of Grand Teton National Park condensed into a two- to three-day hike (or a big dayhike or trail run). It’s probably among the most scenic sub-20-mile hikes in the National Park System and great for beginners, young families—we took our kids at ages eight and six—and any backpackers seeking a short outing.

Involving nearly 4,000 feet of elevation gain and loss, the loop crosses one of the highest points reached via trail in the park, 10,720-foot Paintbrush Divide, where the panorama takes in a jagged skyline featuring some of the highest summits in the Tetons. It also passes by beloved Lake Solitude, nestled in a cirque of cliffs, and below the striped cliffs of Paintbrush Canyon and waterfalls and soaring peaks of Cascade Canyon.

Get my e-book to this trip, “The Best Short Backpacking Trip in Grand Teton National Park.”

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A backpacker hiking to Fox Creek Pass, Grand Teton National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking to Fox Creek Pass in Grand Teton National Park. Click photo for my expert e-book to backpacking the Teton Crest Trail.

Death Canyon to Static Peak Divide

This 25-mile loop from Death Canyon Trailhead will not take you through the majestic core of the Teton Range below the Grand, Middle, and South Tetons. However, it makes a circuit through some of the nicest terrain in the range, including Death Canyon Shelf—with some of the best backcountry camping along the Teton Crest Trail—Alaska Basin, some magnificent and surprisingly lonely alpine hiking, and one of the highest passes reach by trail in the range, plus the opportunity to reach an 11,000-foot summit.

From Static Peak Divide, with sweeping panorama of Jackson Hole and the southern Tetons, an unmaintained but easy trail leads about 15 minutes uphill to the 11,303-foot summit of Static Peak, where the vistas expand, including a dramatic view across an abyss to 11,938-foot Buck Mountain. Lastly, this loop is logistically simpler than many Teton backpacking trips, with no shuttle required and possibly no permit if you hike it as an overnight in Alaska Basin.

I’ve helped many readers plan an unforgettable backpacking trip in the Tetons.
Want my help with yours? Find out more here.

Wildflowers along the Teton Crest Trail, Grand Teton National Park.
Wildflowers along the Teton Crest Trail, Grand Teton National Park. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan this trip.

Granite Canyon to String Lake

The 38-mile traverse from Granite Canyon Trailhead to String Lake Trailhead is almost identical to my favorite Teton Crest Trail itinerary (described above) and arguably more tantalizing to some backpackers. It explores another of the cliff-flanked eastern canyons and more of the southern Teton Range—and offers another appealing itinerary option when seeking a permit that’s hard to get.

Granite Canyon compares with Death Canyon for scenery, camping options, and the chance of seeing moose, and this route also brings you past pretty Marion Lake, which sits in a bowl at the base of the cliffs of 10,537-foot Housetop Mountain, and the distinctive spire of Spearhead Peak, in the area where the Teton Crest Trail ascends onto the high plateau that it traverses for numerous miles all the way to Hurricane Pass.

A trip like this goes better with the right gear.
See “The 10 Best Backpacking Packs” and “The 10 Best Backpacking Tents.”

Lake Solitude in the North Fork Cascade Canyon, Grand Teton National Park.
Lake Solitude in the North Fork of Cascade Canyon, Grand Teton National Park. Click photo for my expert e-book to backpacking the Teton Crest Trail.

The Full Teton Crest Trail

The Teton Crest Trail’s southern terminus is the Phillips Pass Trailhead, off WY 22 east of Teton Pass. From there, the TCT runs north for about 39 miles to the String Lake Trailhead in Grand Teton National Park. Beginning in the Jedediah Smith Wilderness, the trail passes through the much lonelier southern Teton Range—crossing Phillips Pass at 8,932 feet, the headwaters of Granite Canyon’s Middle and North Forks, Marion Lake, and Spearhead Peak, before reaching Fox Creek Pass, Death Canyon Shelf, and the better-known core of the Tetons farther north.

The southern end of the range lacks the cathedral-like skylines of the Teton core, but the landscape evokes a sense of classic, sprawling Western mountains, and much of this terrain is moose and elk country. Plus, much of the southern range lies outside the park, where no permit is needed.

Get my expert expert e-books “The Complete Guide to Backpacking the Teton Crest Trail” and “The Best Short Backpacking Trip in Grand Teton National Park.”

See all stories about backpacking in Grand Teton National Park, “10 Great Big Dayhikes in the Tetons,” and all stories offering expert backpacking tips at The Big Outside.

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Backpacking the Teton Crest Trail—A Photo Gallery https://thebigoutsideblog.com/photo-gallery-backpacking-the-teton-crest-trail/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/photo-gallery-backpacking-the-teton-crest-trail/#comments Sat, 11 Oct 2025 09:00:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=35217 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

As we backpacked up the North Fork of Cascade Canyon on the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park, moments after the path emerged from the forest into a meadow strewn with boulders and still dappled with blooming wildflowers in late August, my friend David turned to look over his shoulder and blurted out, “Oh, wow, look at that view!” Behind us, the sheer north faces of the Grand Teton and Mount Owen towered a vertical mile above us, shooting straight up over the canyon like fireworks (photo above).

By that point on our trip, though, uncontrolled outbursts of awe were occurring several times a day. That’s what it’s like to backpack the Teton Crest Trail.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A backpacker on the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park. Click photo for my e-book “The Complete Guide to Backpacking the Teton Crest Trail.”

Three friends and I backpacked a 36-mile traverse of Grand Teton National Park, mostly on the Teton Crest Trail, in late August—in many ways, an ideal time to hike there. While I’ve backpacked the TCT several times now, it was the first time for all three of them.

Seeing the reactions of these friends—every one of them very experienced backpackers who’ve taken numerous trips with me—to the scenery along this classic trek, reaffirmed my opinion that few multi-day hikes offer so much grandeur almost every step of way like the Teton Crest Trail. But I’ll let the photos in this story make that case.

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A backpacker on the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park.
David Gordon backpacking the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park. Click photo to get my customized help planning your trip.

I count the Teton Crest Trail unquestionably among the top 10 best backpacking trips in America, and two camping areas on it—where my friends and I camped on this most-recent trip—among my list of top 25 favorite backcountry campsites of all time (although, honestly, other spots where I’ve pitched a tent in this park would make almost anyone’s list). After at least two dozen trips into the backcountry of the Tetons, I can’t get enough of these sharply serrated peaks and deep, cliff-flanked canyons, the alpine lakes and icy creeks, campsites with jaw-dropping views, or the explosion of wildflowers in summer.

A Grand Teton National Park backcountry permit is one of the hardest to get in the National Park System. The park issues just one-third of available permits in advance, so two-thirds are available first-come, for walk-in backpackers, no more than one day before your trip begins. See “How to Get a Permit to Backpack the Teton Crest Trail,” “How to Get a Last-Minute, National Park Backcountry Permit” and “How to Backpack the Teton Crest Trail Without a Permit.”

I’ve helped many readers plan an unforgettable backpacking trip on the Teton Crest Trail.
Want my help with yours? Find out more here.

Wildflowers along the Teton Crest Trail, Grand Teton National Park.
Wildflowers along the Teton Crest Trail, Grand Teton National Park.

My expert e-book “The Complete Guide to Backpacking the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park” tells you all you need to know to plan and take this trip, from how to get a very popular backcountry permit to describing the various route options and pointing out the best places to camp, as well as how to prepare for this trip.

I feel so attached to these mountains that I made a point of taking my kids there as soon as they were both capable of a trip that rugged: When our daughter was six and her brother eight, we spent three days backpacking the nearly 20-mile Paintbrush Canyon-Cascade Canyon loop from the Leigh Lake Trailhead, an adventure that concluded with a close-up sighting of two bull moose in Cascade Canyon. Two summers later, we returned for a longer family backpacking trip on the Teton Crest Trail.

The photos below are from my most-recent backpacking trip on the Teton Crest Trail.

Dying to backpack in the Tetons? See my e-books to the Teton Crest Trail and
the best short backpacking trip there.

See my feature story about my latest trip, “A Wonderful Obsession: Backpacking the Teton Crest Trail,” and all stories about backpacking the Teton Crest Trail, including “How to Get a Permit to Backpack the Teton Crest Trail,” “5 Reasons You Must Backpack the Teton Crest Trail,” and “The 5 Best Backpacking Trips in Grand Teton National Park.”

See also my popular “10 Tips For Getting a Hard-to-Get National Park Backcountry Permit.”

Get full access to all Teton Crest Trail stories and ALL stories at The Big Outside,
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10 Epic Grand Canyon Backpacking Trips You Must Do https://thebigoutsideblog.com/5-epic-grand-canyon-backpacking-trips-you-must-do/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/5-epic-grand-canyon-backpacking-trips-you-must-do/#comments Sat, 04 Oct 2025 09:01:42 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=30238 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

This is, in a way, a story about obsession. Or a love affair. Or both. Those metaphors best describe how the Grand Canyon constantly lures me back when I’m thinking about spring and fall hiking and backpacking trips.

It is that rare kind of natural environment that exists on a scale of its own, like Alaska or the Himalaya. There’s something soul-stirring and hypnotic about its infinite vistas, the deceptive immensity of the canyon walls and stone towers, and the way the foreground and background continually expand and shrink as you ascend and descend elevation gradients of a vertical mile or more—all of which validates enduring the wilting heat and trails that sometimes seem better suited to rattlesnakes and scorpions than bipedal primates.

For backpackers seeking adventure, challenge, and incomparable natural beauty, the canyon stands alone.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A backpacker at Ooh-Ah Point on the South Kaibab Trail in the Grand Canyon.
Todd Arndt at Ooh-Ah Point on the South Kaibab Trail. Click on the photo to see my e-book “The Best Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon.”

This story will show you, in words and photos, why one or more of these Big Ditch backpacking trips deserves top priority as you’re planning your next trip. Although some of these trips are not for everyone—and some are not a good choice for a first GC backpacking trip—I think this story will help you quickly understand why the Grand Canyon has increasingly become one of my favorite places over more than three decades (and counting) of backpacking, including the 10 years I spent as a longtime field editor for Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog.

And the time to start planning your Grand Canyon adventure is right now.

Each of the 10 trips described below can be hiked within a week and some in a few days. Each description links to a feature story about that trip at The Big Outside, and those include many photos and my expert tips on planning and pulling them off—including how to acquire one of these hard-to-get permits. (Those stories require a paid subscription to The Big Outside to read in full.)

Backpackers and wildflowers along the Grand Canyon's Escalante Route.
Backpackers and wildflowers along the Grand Canyon’s Escalante Route. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan any trip you read about at The Big Outside.

Any of these hikes will thrill and amaze you—and just may inspire in you an urge to go back again and again. Whenever I’m looking for a long, remote, incredibly beautiful, wilderness backpacking trip in the Southwest, the Grand Canyon seems to consistently emerge on top. Even though it lies a day’s journey from my home, I’ve been there numerous times for backpacking trips and ultra-dayhikes.

It seems the more I go there, the more I want to go back—in spite of how hard it is (and maybe that’s one of the reasons I keep going back).

A backpacker hiking the Tonto Trail toward Topaz Canyon, along the Gems Route in the Grand Canyon.
Mark Fenton backpacking the Tonto Trail toward Topaz Canyon, along the Gems Route in the Grand Canyon.

A Grand Canyon backcountry permit is one of the hardest to get in the National Park System. See “How to Get a Permit to Backpack in the Grand Canyon” and “10 Tips for Getting a Hard-to-Get National Park Backcountry Permit,” both of which are updated regularly with detailed information on how to obtain a permit.

See my expert e-books “The Best First Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon” and “The Best Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon” and my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you plan any of these trips or any trip you read about at this blog.

I’d love to hear if you’ve done any of these trips or want to suggest others in the Grand Canyon. Please share your thoughts in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

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A hiker on the South Kaibab Trail in the Grand Canyon.
David Ports hiking the South Kaibab Trail in the Grand Canyon. Click on the photo to see my e-book “The Best First Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon.”

Grand Canyon Rim to Rim

If there’s an archetypal Grand Canyon hike, this baby is it. Crossing the canyon via the North Kaibab Trail combined with either the South Kaibab (one of prettiest of the 25 best national park dayhikes) or the Bright Angel Trail delivers the goods on epic scenery. You get views that span from both rims all the way down to the Colorado River, the huge vistas of the South Kaibab, the Bright Angel’s panoramas and desert oases (I’ve also see bighorn sheep on that trail), a walk through the narrow, sheer-walled gorge of lower Bright Angel Creek, waterfalls, and airy sections where the North Kaibab clings to cliff faces.

Bright Angel Creek along the Grand Canyon's North Kaibab Trail.
Bright Angel Creek along the Grand Canyon’s North Kaibab Trail.

Although most GC trails are quite rugged, these three so-called “corridor” trails, while strenuous for their vertical relief, have better footing, more reliable water availability at regular intervals, and much less of the loose terrain, quad-pounding ledge drops, and occasionally scary exposure of other canyon footpaths.

A one-way canyon traverse, typically backpacked in three days (in either direction), is 21 miles with 4,780 feet of descent and 5,761 feet of ascent via the South Kaibab and North Kaibab trails (going south to north), or 23.5 miles with 4,380 feet of descent and 5,761 feet of ascent via the Bright Angel and North Kaibab (also going south to north). Shuttles are available between the rims, and you can also double the trip by backpacking across and back.

Another excellent—and popular—itinerary, especially among first-timers here, is to forego the long ascent to the North Rim, and instead hike 16.5 miles rim to river to rim: down the South Kaibab and up the Bright Angel. Many backpackers take two or three days, with one night at Bright Angel Campground on the Colorado River and a possible second night at Havasupai Gardens Campground along the Bright Angel Trail to break up the long climb back up from the river.

Demand is enormous for a permit for backpacking the corridor trails in spring or fall, with upwards of three-quarters of applications denied. Read my story “How to Get a Permit to Backpack in the Grand Canyon.”

Do this trip smartly. Get my expert e-book to backpacking the Grand Canyon rim to rim
or my expert e-book to dayhiking the Grand Canyon rim to rim.

A hiker on the upper South Kaibab Trail in the Grand Canyon.
My wife, Penny, hiking the upper South Kaibab Trail. Click photo for my e-book “The Complete Guide to Hiking the Grand Canyon Rim to Rim.”

Plus, growing numbers of uber-bit hikers and runners knock off a rim-to-rim (r2r) or a complete rim-to-rim-to-rim—across and back—(r2r2r) in a day. Consequently, in peak weather of mid-spring and mid-autumn, don’t expect the solitude you can find on some other canyon backpacking trips.

But if you want to take one of the most unique and spectacular treks in the world, without attempting any of the other significantly harder routes, this is the one.

See my stories “How to Hike the Grand Canyon Rim to Rim in a Day,” “Fit to be Tired: Hiking the Grand Canyon Rim to Rim in a Day,” and “A Grand Ambition, or April Fools? Dayhiking the Grand Canyon Rim to Rim to Rim,” and all stories about South Rim hikes and South Rim backpacking trips at The Big Outside.

See also my expert e-book to backpacking the Grand Canyon rim to rim or my expert e-book to dayhiking the Grand Canyon rim to rim.

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A backpacker on the Tonto Trail above the Colorado River, Grand Canyon.
Mark Fenton on the Tonto Trail in the Grand Canyon. Click photo to see all of my expert e-books, including “The Best Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon.”

South Kaibab to Lipan Point

When a longtime backcountry ranger in the canyon whom I know, who’s hiked every mile of trail in the park, told me this 74-mile route was “the best backpacking trip in the Grand Canyon,” I’ll admit, I was a little dubious. After all, every hike in the Big Ditch is amazing. Then I backpacked it and found myself concluding: He’s right.

Besides the fact that the South Kaibab is absolutely one of the best hikes in the entire National Park System, this route—which has shorter alternatives—follows one of the of the prettiest and most adventurous “trails” (if it can be called that) in the canyon, the Escalante Route, which involves some tricky route-finding and exposed scrambling. This hike also incorporates the beautiful and surprisingly rigorous Beamer Trail, and another rim-to-river footpath, the Tanner Trail.

Backpackers on the Escalante Route in the Grand Canyon.
Mark Fenton and Todd Arndt backpacking the Grand Canyon’s Escalante Route. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan any of these trips.

While water sources are sporadic, there are three perennial streams—one of them the Colorado River—and you’ll enjoy some of the best backcountry campsites you’ve ever spent a night in, including beaches on the Colorado. And you might get invited to an outstanding dinner by a river party.

See my story “The Best Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon.”

Click here now for my expert e-book to the best backpacking trip in the Grand Canyon.

A backpacker hiking the Tonto Trail in Monument Canyon in the Grand Canyon.
Todd Arndt backpacking the Tonto Trail in Monument Canyon in the Grand Canyon.

Hermits Rest to Bright Angel

The Tonto Trail at Horn Creek in the Grand Canyon.
The Tonto Trail at Horn Creek in the Grand Canyon.

Outside the three corridor trails, the 25-mile hike from Hermits Rest to the Bright Angel Trailhead may be the park’s most popular, for many good reasons. Although it does not go all the way to the Colorado River—unless you take any of a few side trails off this route that descend to the river (each adding several miles round-trip)—this linkup of the Hermit, Tonto, and Bright Angel trails nonetheless offers an experience similar to a rim-to-river-to-rim hike that’s in many ways easier.

The rigorous Hermit Trail—the hardest section of this hike—snakes through one of the dramatic tributary canyons of the Colorado River, below colorful, striated cliffs of the canyon’s Supai and Redwall layers. You’ll follow a 13-mile stretch of the Tonto Trail across the gently rolling Tonto Plateau, where prickly-pear cacti and other wildflowers bloom and the views span from the rims to the river.

That stretch of the Tonto crosses five major tributary canyons of the Colorado River, including passing directly below the tall, slender rock spire and soaring burgundy cliffs in the canyon of Monument Creek, and the mind-boggling heights and three-dimensionality of the Inferno.

One more advantage of this hike: There are three reliable water sources along or a short distance off this route.

Read “One Extraordinary Day: A 25-Mile Dayhike in the Grand Canyon” about dayhiking Hermits Rest to Bright Angel Trailhead (a route I’ve also backpacked).

I can help you figure out the best Grand Canyon backpacking trip for your group.
Click here to learn about my Custom Trip Planning.

A backpacker on the Tonto Trail, Grand Canyon.
Todd Arndt backpacking the Tonto Trail, Grand Canyon.

South Kaibab to Grandview Point

Like Hermits Rest to Bright Angel, the 29-mile hike from the South Kaibab Trailhead to Grandview Point provides backpackers with a full-immersion experience in the Big Ditch without as much elevation gain and loss as going all the way to the Colorado River. (In fact, this trip offers just one optional side hike to the river—down the South Kaibab Trail.)

Descending the South Kaibab Trail as the light of early morning streams across the Grand Canyon is one of the most sublime hiking experiences in America. And the Grandview Trail offers constantly changing perspectives of the canyon spreading out before you. This hike also traverses a long stretch of the scenic Tonto Plateau, with views reaching to the South and North rims and the river, crossing a handful of tributary canyons like Grapevine Creek, which itself is staggeringly deep and broad. All along this route, some of the canyon’s most distinctive formations, like the towering Zoroaster Temple, seem to grow and shrink as you approach and move away from them.

Read all of this story and ALL stories at The Big Outside,
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A backpacker on the Tonto Trail between the South Kaibab and Grandview trails in the Grand Canyon.
Mark Fenton backpacking the Tonto Trail between the South Kaibab and Grandview trails in the Grand Canyon.

You can combine this hike with the Hermits Rest to Bright Angel hike (above), or partly overlap the two—going from Hermits Rest to South Kaibab or Grandview Point to Bright Angel or doing either in the opposite direction. There are four water sources along this route, but only one is perennial (Grapevine Creek), so it’s better done in spring, when the other three creeks usually have water.

See my story “Dropping Into the Grand Canyon: A Four-Day Hike From Grandview Point to the South Kaibab Trail” at The Big Outside.

See the “5 Reasons You Must Backpack in the Grand Canyon.”

A backpacker at a waterfall on the Deer Creek Trail in the Grand Canyon.
Jeff Wilhelm at a waterfall on the Deer Creek Trail in the Grand Canyon.

Thunder River-Deer Creek Loop

Accessible for shorter spring and fall seasons than most backpacking trips off the South Rim, the remote, 25-mile Thunder River-Deer Creek Loop off the Grand Canyon’s North Rim has become a prized destination for in-the-know backpackers and river-rafting parties taking side hikes, primarily for an unusual abundance of a rare element in the canyon: water.

A backpacker beneath Deer Creek Falls in the Grand Canyon.
Deer Creek Falls in the Grand Canyon.

The two fast-moving, perennial creeks and one river (in addition to the Colorado River) that backpackers hike along on this trip pour over some of the Grand Canyon’s prettiest waterfalls, course through spectacular narrows, and nurture oases of trees and vegetation. Your first sighting from above of the Thunder River can seem like a mirage, seeing it burst in a—yes—thunderous waterfall from the face of a cliff.

Although the upper parts of this loop are dry and nearly devoid of shade—they can be brutally hot—the vistas reach to the South Rim and for miles up and down the canyon, revealing its majestic breadth and depth.

This isn’t a trip for beginner backpackers or Grand Canyon first-timers: You’ll descend a vertical mile to the Colorado and climb back up again, on often-rugged trails, possibly in heat that pushes the edges of human tolerance.

But backpackers ready to rise to the challenge will explore one of the most unique corners of the Grand Canyon.

See my story “Backpacking the Grand Canyon’s Thunder River-Deer Creek Loop.”

 

Hike all of the “12 Best Backpacking Trips in the Southwest.”

See all stories about backpacking in the Grand Canyon at The Big Outside.

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How to Get a Permit to Backpack in the Grand Canyon https://thebigoutsideblog.com/how-to-get-a-permit-to-backpack-in-the-grand-canyon/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/how-to-get-a-permit-to-backpack-in-the-grand-canyon/#comments Sat, 04 Oct 2025 09:00:44 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=48711 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

First-time backpackers in the Grand Canyon quickly absorb two lessons about this one-of-a-kind place. Foremost, the canyon’s infinite vistas and deceptive scale, the beauty of desert oases and wildflower blooms, the peacefulness and quietude of some of the best wilderness campsites you will ever enjoy—all of these qualities will hook you forever.

And you learn how difficult it can be to get a permit for backpacking there.

In fact, so many people attempt to reserve a Grand Canyon backcountry permit that a high percentage of them fail every year—including up to 75 percent of people seeking nights at any or all of the three most popular backcountry campgrounds, Havasupai Gardens (formerly Indian Garden), Bright Angel, and Cottonwood campgrounds along the popular Bright Angel and North Kaibab corridor trails.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A hiker on the Grand Canyon's North Kaibab Trail.
David Ports hiking the Grand Canyon’s North Kaibab Trail on a rim-to-rim dayhike. Click photo for my e-book “The Best First Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon.”

This story explains the somewhat complex, multi-step process for obtaining a Grand Canyon backcountry permit reservation or getting a walk-in permit and shares strategies I have used to secure permits for several multi-day hikes in the Big Ditch—which I’ve revisited many times over more than three decades of backpacking, including the 10 years I spent as a field editor for Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog.

Since 2024, Grand Canyon National Park has issued backcountry permit reservations through a monthly early-access lottery at recreation.gov/permits/4675337 conducted four months in advance of the month you want to hike. See more details on how that works below.

Click on any photo to read about that trip. Please share your questions or experiences about backpacking in the Grand Canyon in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

I can help you figure out the best Grand Canyon backpacking trip for your group.
Click here to learn about my Custom Trip Planning.

Backpackers on the Tonto Trail in the Grand Canyon.
Todd Arndt and Mark Fenton backpacking the Tonto Trail in the Grand Canyon. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.

Decide Where You Want to Hike

First step: Research your route in advance, including how far you will hike each day and where you’d like to camp. A Grand Canyon permit requires specifying a camp location for each night, identified by the location name (such as a creek) and either a specific campground code or backcountry camping zone code shown on the interactive map at nps.gov/grca/planyourvisit/upload/useAreaMap.pdf.

A campsite near Royal Arch in the Grand Canyon.
A campsite near Royal Arch in the Grand Canyon.

Keep in mind that many of the canyon’s trails are rugged and feature significant elevation gain and loss; many people find their hiking speed slower here than in other places, especially anytime you have to carry extra water weight, and hot days can force you to hike very early and late and hunker down in shade during the heat of the day. Plan daily distances that make sense for your group.

Know where to find water sources, which are scarce, and some are seasonal.

Find descriptions of the park’s Backcountry Trails and Use Areas, including water sources, at nps.gov/grca/planyourvisit/campsite-information.htm.

See all stories about backpacking in the Grand Canyon at The Big Outside (which require a paid subscription to The Big Outside to read in full, including my planning tips for each trip) and check out my expert e-books to some of America’s best backpacking trips, including “The Best First Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon” and “The Best Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon.” Those contain detailed hiking itineraries, expert planning and gear advice, on-the-ground knowledge, tips specific to getting a permit, and myriad other details relevant to taking a trip into the canyon.

Want my expert help custom planning your trip to ensure it’s as good as it can be? See my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you.

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Backpackers on the South Kaibab Trail in the Grand Canyon.
Backpackers on the South Kaibab Trail in the Grand Canyon. Click photo for my e-book “The Best Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon.”

When and How to Get a Permit

Since 2024, Grand Canyon National Park has issued about 80 percent of backcountry permits through a monthly, randomized early-access lottery at recreation.gov/permits/4675337.

One important detail remains unchanged under the new permit system: For the best chances of obtaining a permit reservation—especially for camps on any corridor trail (the Bright Angel or South or North Kaibab trails)—be ready to begin the permit process four months prior to the month in which you want to start a trip.

Enter the early-access lottery anytime during a two-week period that ends on the first of the month four months in advance of the month you’d like to hike—for example, between mid-November and Dec. 1 for a trip anytime in April and between mid-May and June 1 for October. See the chart showing dates to enter the lottery at recreation.gov/permits/4675337 and nps.gov/grca/planyourvisit/backcountry-permit.htm.

Do your Grand Canyon hike right with these expert e-books:
The Best First Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon
The Best Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon
The Complete Guide to Hiking the Grand Canyon Rim to Rim.”

Backpackers hiking the Clear Creek Trail in the Grand Canyon.
Pam Solon and David Gordon backpacking the Clear Creek Trail in the Grand Canyon.

The lottery only determines who gets awarded an early-access time to make a permit reservation; you won’t include any hiking itinerary details in your lottery entry. Every individual can enter only once per monthly lottery period, but all members of a party can enter it and see who obtains the best timeslot—and if multiple group members obtain a timeslot, all of them could try to reserve a permit.

Held on the 2nd of every month, the lottery awards up to 750 applicants a date and time over the next couple of weeks when they can log in to their recreation.gov account and attempt to reserve one permit for a specific itinerary with designated campsites each night.

Each timeslot includes no more than 15 applicants and there are five timeslots per day (8am, 10am, noon, 2pm, and 4pm Mountain Standard Time; Arizona does not switch to Daylight Savings Time) over each early-access period.

After the Grand Canyon, hike the other nine of
America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips.”

A backpacker hiking the Tonto Trail west of Hermit Canyon in the Grand Canyon.
Todd Arndt backpacking the Tonto Trail west of Hermit Canyon in the Grand Canyon.

People with earlier lottery timeslots will obviously see more camping availability than those who draw a later time. You can check availability prior to your assigned date and time—a wise thing to do, to know what’s already not available, saving you time when you begin the application—but you cannot make a reservation until your timeslot. You can make a permit reservation anytime after your timeslot—but that only reduces your chances of success.

Key detail: The park expects that most of the 750 applicants awarded a lottery timeslot will get a permit—although popular camps and dates will definitely get reserved quickly.

Tip: The park has more backcountry campsites for “small” groups of up to six people than “large” groups of seven to 11 people. Keeping your group to no more than six increases your chances of obtaining a permit.

David Ports backpacking the Tonto Trail west of Horn Creek in Grand Canyon National Park.
David Ports backpacking the Tonto Trail west of Horn Creek in Grand Canyon National Park.

When you log in to make a permit reservation, recreation.gov shows backcountry campsite availability and processes reservations in real time, meaning that, if you succeed in assembling an itinerary with camps every night, you will immediately confirm and pay for a permit reservation. Under the previous system, where rangers manually processed thousands of faxed applications, applicants had to wait up to a month to learn whether they got a reservation.

The park designates some areas only suitable for backpackers with previous Grand Canyon backpacking experience, due to the difficulty of those routes. Those are categorized at recreation.gov under the Starting Areas “Requires Prev GC Experience” and “Requires Adv GC Experience or Unusual.” When selecting some of those options, you will be directed to call the park to speak with a ranger about booking that itinerary. See more details about which trails are recommended for second Grand Canyon backpacking trips under the Need to Know tab at recreation.gov/permits/4675337, and trail descriptions and more information about use areas and management zones at nps.gov/grca/planyourvisit/campsite-information.htm.

The fee is $10 per permit plus $15 per person per night below the rim and $4 per person per night for backcountry areas above the rim. The fee for entering an early-access lottery is $10 (every time you enter a lottery) and that is applied to the permit cost if you succeed in making a reservation. Refunds are granted for partial or full permit cancellations made in recreation.gov before you print the backcountry permit (through recreation.gov) and at least 30 days before the permit start date.

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A backpacker hiking the Tapeats Creek Trail on the Thunder River-Deer Creek Loop in the Grand Canyon.
Chip Roser backpacking the Tapeats Creek Trail on the Thunder River-Deer Creek Loop in the Grand Canyon.

Second and Third Chances to Get a Permit

There’s a second phase of the permit process that creates another earlier access opportunity. Lottery applicants who are not among the 750 awarded a timeslot can apply for a reservation before they are opened to the public, from the 20th of the month or shortly before it until the end of the month.

Finally, on the first day of the subsequent month—for example, Jan. 1 for April start dates and July 1 for October dates—reservations will open for the public to check availability and reserve any remaining backcountry campsite spaces.

Given the sky-high demand for permits during the peak seasons of March through May and mid-September through mid-November—and the fact that the park issues 80 percent of available permits through reservations, a higher percentage than most parks—the early-access lottery will unquestionably offer the best chance of scoring a backcountry permit.

The lottery also eliminates the frantic scramble for permits that occurs with reservation systems that open to everyone at the same time on one day. In parks with that type of system, virtually all backcountry campsites get vacuumed up within minutes for the entire year, leaving countless people frustrated over seeing their chosen campsites suddenly become unavailable.

Find more information at nps.gov/grca/planyourvisit/backcountry-permit-questions.htm.

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Wildflowers along the Escalante Route in the Grand Canyon.
Wildflowers along the Escalante Route in the Grand Canyon. Click photo to read about that trip.

Plan Alternative Itineraries and Dates

As I suggest in my “10 Tips for Getting a Hard-to-Get National Park Backcountry Permit,” if you want to backpack in the Grand Canyon during its peak seasons of spring and fall, begin your permit application with at least two itinerary options and a range of starting dates, in case your first itinerary and date choice are unavailable. Consider starting your hike midweek instead of on a weekend and selecting a route that’s less popular, remote, or difficult than your first or second choice.

Under the Grand Canyon’s previous permit system, some 75 percent of people who applied for a permit to backpack some combination the Bright Angel and South and North Kaibab trails were denied; it’s hard to imagine demand for those trails changing.

But you will find it easier to get a permit for the 29-mile hike from the South Kaibab Trailhead to Grandview Point, the 25-mile hike from Hermits Rest to Bright Angel Trailhead, or any much more rugged and remote trip, like the 15-mile hike from New Hance Trailhead to Grandview Point, the 25-mile Thunder River-Deer Creek Loop, the 34.5-mile Royal Arch Loop, the Clear Creek Trail or the off-trail Utah Flats Route, or some of the itineraries possible along the route I write about in my story “The Best Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon.”

Click here now to plan your next great backpacking adventure using my expert e-books.

 

Try For a Walk-in Permit

Along the Tonto Trail at Horn Creek in Grand Canyon National Park.
Along the Tonto Trail at Horn Creek in Grand Canyon National Park.

You didn’t make a permit reservation and you’re trying to plan a last-minute backpacking trip in the Grand Canyon? Although not easy to obtain, the park does set aside about 20 percent of available backcountry campsites for walk-in permits and issues a limited number of walk-in permits specifically for camping at Havasupai Gardens, Bright Angel, and Cottonwood campgrounds along the Bright Angel and North Kaibab corridor trails.

Note that the park doesn’t issue walk-in permits that include all three of those backcountry campgrounds. A walk-in permit on the North Rim gives you priority access to Cottonwood Campground but you will likely not be able to obtain a permit for Havasupai Gardens. Backpackers obtaining a permit on the South Rim will have priority access to Havasupai Gardens and likely not be able to obtain a permit for Cottonwood. Permits issued from either rim allow access to Bright Angel Campground.

That means that if you want to attempt a rim-to-rim hike over two or three days, you’ll have to get a walk-in permit that includes Bright Angel campground and/or Cottonwood and may need to possess the stamina (and a light pack) for at least one big day hiking from Bright Angel to either the South Rim or the North Rim.

Walk-in permits are issued only in person, no more than one day in advance, at both the South Rim (open year-round) and the North Rim (open May 15 to Oct. 31) Backcountry Information Center (BIC). The hours for both are 8 a.m. to noon and 1-5 p.m. Mountain Standard Time, including holidays. You might not obtain a last-minute permit the first time you visit a Backcountry Information Center; you may have to return the next day. Use the wait list to guarantee your position in line.

And there may be more than 20 percent of backcountry campsites available at any given time due to canceled permit reservations. Cancellations must be made at least 30 days before the permit date to get a refund, hopefully resulting in fewer permit holders canceling at the last minute and giving permit seekers expanded opportunity to claim cancelled camps and dates. Some 10 percent or more of permit reservations get canceled in a given year, according to these park statistics.

See my e-books “The Best First Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon” and “The Best Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon,” all stories about backpacking in the Grand Canyon at The Big Outside, and “How to Get a Last-Minute, National Park Backcountry Permit.”

See also “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips”  and all stories with expert backpacking and outdoor skills tips at The Big Outside.

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Backpacking the Maze in Canyonlands—A Photo Gallery https://thebigoutsideblog.com/photo-gallery-backpacking-the-maze-in-canyonlands/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/photo-gallery-backpacking-the-maze-in-canyonlands/#respond Fri, 03 Oct 2025 09:00:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=51949 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

With our first steps on the descent from Maze Overlook into the labyrinth of mostly dry desert canyons that comprise one of the greatest geological oddities in the National Park System—the Maze in Utah’s Canyonlands National Park—we had to remove and pass our backpacks over a ledge drop of several feet. But that was nothing compared to what lay ahead. Following a wildly circuitous trail marked by cairns but otherwise unobvious and not visible on the slickrock, we passed below redrock cliffs and towers, traversed the sloping rims of giant bowls of rippled stone, and several more times passed our packs to scramble through tight crevices and downclimb a ladder of shallow footsteps chiseled into a sandstone cliff face.

Taking nearly three hours to descend just a mile and 500 vertical feet, we reached the sandy bottom of the South Fork of Horse Canyon—and began searching for the one natural spring that we hoped would sustain us for the next three days.

Three friends and I took a five-day backpacking trip into the Maze in the first week of March, when we had warm sunshine much of the time and temps in the 40s and 50s most days, with nights in the teens and 20s. But most critically, we found water in a place where the few sources can go dry by later in spring.

And the date to apply for a permit to backpack there in spring is Nov. 10.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


Hikers on the Chimney Route in the Maze District, Canyonlands National Park.
Pam Solon, Todd Arndt, and Jeff Wilhelm hiking the Chimney Route in the Maze District, Canyonlands National Park.

The trip presented us with surprises nearly every day. Mornings delivered beautiful sunrises setting fire to redrock cliffs and ice in our water bottles. Almost every night, the brilliant streak of the Milky Way spilled across the ink-black sky, a sight so clear and bright it felt almost alarming.

From a base camp for two nights near the first spring we found, surrounded by towering walls of desert varnish, we dayhiked a nine-mile loop that would prove more adventurous and scenic than I think any of us expected—even after the descent from Maze Overlook.

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A backpacker at a campsite in the Maze District, Canyonlands National Park, Utah.
Jeff Wilhelm at our second camp in the Maze District, Canyonlands National Park.

Following the Chimney Route past the Harvest Scene pictographs, we walked down a canyon that grew steeper and more rugged as we followed a cairned route zigzagging up ledges on a canyon wall. In spots, rocks stacked by trail builders act as step ladders, enabling us to clamber over the smooth lip of a high ledge or a pour over carved by water. That route brought us to the slender tower of Chimney Rock, which looks like hardened, dark-brown mud.

From Chimney Rock, we followed the Pete’s Mesa Route along a high, broad ridge, with a constant panorama of towers and side canyons choked with fallen rocks tumbling away to either side of us. The route eventually rolled abruptly off the tableland and we scrambled down short, vertical drops, using more step ladders of stacked rocks, reaching the bottom of another tight, anonymous side canyon and walking down it and back to our tents.

We saw one other person that entire day and only a handful of people in five days.

The gallery below features some of my photos from backpacking the Maze District in Canyonlands. Scroll below the gallery for the link to my story about this trip, which includes my expert tips on how to take it yourself, including how to obtain a backcountry permit.

I can help you plan this or any other trip you read about at my blog. Find out more here.

See my feature story about this trip “Farther Than It Looks—Backpacking the Canyonlands Maze,” which, like many stories about trips at The Big Outside, includes my detailed tips on planning it yourself and requires a paid membership to read in full.

See my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you plan this trip or any you read about at this blog.

See all stories about Canyonlands National Park at The Big Outside.

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12 Wonderful National Park Adventures to Take With Kids https://thebigoutsideblog.com/10-favorite-national-park-adventures-with-kids/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/10-favorite-national-park-adventures-with-kids/#respond Sat, 27 Sep 2025 09:00:36 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=18610 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

America’s 63 national parks preserve over 52 million acres of uniquely beautiful and genuinely awe-inspiring places in nature, and the payoff for our country’s foresight in protecting them is a lifetime’s worth of unforgettable experiences—many of them entirely feasible, safe, and really fun for families with kids of all ages. Best of all, you’ll find that sharing these adventures will create your best times together as a family, as they have for mine.

And here’s an insider tip: These adventures aren’t just for families. Adults with a wide range of outdoors experience—including little to none—will find these trips thrilling, fascinating, and inspirational.

This story describes 12 of the very best adventures my family has taken, many of them personal favorites from among the countless trips I’ve taken over three decades as an outdoors writer, including the 10 years I spent as a field editor for Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A teenage boy hiking Angels Landing in Zion National Park.
My son, Nate, hiking Angels Landing in Zion National Park.

Each trip description below offers a suggested minimum age—which will certainly vary based on every child’s (and parent’s) personal experience and comfort level—and links to a full feature story at The Big Outside, which share more images (and those stories require a paid subscription to read in full, including my detailed tips on planning each trip).

Not surprisingly, all of these trips require planning and making reservations months in advance. See my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you plan any trip you read about at this blog.

Please share your experiences, questions, and advice on any of these trips, or suggest your own favorite national park family adventures in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

Two school-age kids standing under the General Sherman Tree in Sequoia National Park.
My kids standing under the General Sherman Tree in Sequoia National Park.

Stand in the Shadow of a Giant Sequoia

Any Age

If you’re going to be a tree hugger, you might as well go big. The giant sequoias of Sequoia National Park can live more than 3,000 years, grow as tall as a 26-story building, and have a base diameter of 36 feet. The General Sherman Tree is the largest in the world at 52,508 cubic feet (1,487 cubic meters), 275 feet tall, and estimated to weigh 2.7 million pounds. The General Grant Tree is the second largest at 46,608 cubic feet (1,320 cubic meters). Try hugging them.

A young girl backpacking the High Sierra Trail above Hamilton Lakes, Sequoia National Park.
My daughter, Alex, backpacking the High Sierra Trail in Sequoia National Park (also the lead photo at the top of this story).

The Giant Forest in Sequoia contains half of the Earth’s largest trees, more than 8,000 sequoias. You can stand under scores of them, including the General Sherman Tree, on a hike of an hour or less. From Wolverton Road, off the Generals Highway, a half-mile trail leads to the General Sherman Tree. The 0.7-mile Big Trees Trail begins at the Giant Forest Museum.

Is your family ready for a bigger adventure? Read about my family’s 40-mile backpacking trip in Sequoia, where we had a wilderness giant sequoia grove all to ourselves, plus see photos of the General Sherman Tree and Grant Grove in my story “Heavy Lifting: Backpacking Sequoia National Park.” And see all stories about Sequoia National Park at The Big Outside.

Make every adventure better with my “10 Tips For Keeping Kids Happy and Safe Outdoors
and “5 Tips for Hiking With Young Kids from an Outdoors Dad.”

 

A hot spring in Midway Geyser Basin, Yellowstone National Park.
A hot spring in Midway Geyser Basin, Yellowstone National Park.

Feel the Magic of Yellowstone

A family at Grand Prismatic Spring in the Midway Geyser Basin, Yellowstone.
My family at Grand Prismatic Spring in the Midway Geyser Basin, Yellowstone.

Any Age

Since Americans first began exploring the Yellowstone region, people have stood in awe of its marvels: megafauna like elk, bison, and grizzly bears, spectacular waterfalls, and more than 10,000 geothermal features, including hot springs, mud pots, fumaroles, and at least 300 geysers—two-thirds of the planet’s known total.

We first took our kids to Yellowstone when they were four and two years old, and although they don’t remember that visit, they delighted in the animals and thermal features—and they could enjoy them because so many of Yellowstone’s highlights can be seen on short walks or hikes that are easy enough to do with very young kids.

Some of my favorite spots, like Grand Prismatic Spring, the park’s largest, in the Midway Geyser Basin, require only a short stroll on a boardwalk. An easy walking tour of Mammoth Hot Springs, the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone River, and even the Upper Geyser Basin (which includes Old Faithful) can be done in an hour or two.

See my stories “The Ultimate Family Tour of Yellowstone,” “The 10 Best Hikes in Yellowstone,” “Cross-Country Skiing Yellowstone,” and all stories about Yellowstone National Park at The Big Outside.

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A raft floating the Green River through Stillwater Canyon in Canyonlands National Park.
A raft floating the Green River through Stillwater Canyon in Canyonlands National Park.

Float the Green River Through Canyonlands National Park

Ages 4 and Up

Our son was six and our daughter barely four when we took a five-day, five-family float trip mostly on the Green River in southern Utah’s Canyonlands National Park. From the put-in at Mineral Bottom through 52 miles of Stillwater Canyon on the Green and then four miles more on the Colorado River to the takeout at Spanish Bottom, the river slowly unfurls beneath a constant backdrop of soaring redrock cliffs and spires.

A hiker in early morning high above Stillwater Canyon on the Green River in Canyonlands National Park.
Mark Fenton hiking in early morning high above Stillwater Canyon on the Green River in Canyonlands National Park.

Our flotilla of rafts, two kayaks, and a canoe quickly morphed into a slowly drifting party of water-gun fights and occasional swims to cool off, interspersed with frequent moments of gazing at brilliantly red canyon walls rising hundreds of feet above us. Off the water, we took side hikes to high overlooks of the canyon and centuries-old Puebloan rock art and cliff dwellings and camped on sandy beaches and slickrock benches. You might even spot bighorn sheep scrambling around on the canyon’s precipitous rock faces.

The flat water is ideal for beginners, campsites are spacious and lovely, and the scenery is out of this world from put-in to takeout. Rentals of boats and river gear, plus shuttles to the put-in and from the takeout (via a very scenic motorboat tour) are available from local outfitters in nearby Moab.

See my story “Still Waters Run Deep: Tackling America’s Best Multi-Day Float Trip on the Green River” and all stories about floating the Green River at The Big Outside.

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My son, Nate, underneath Double Arch in Arches National Park.

Climb Into Natural Arches

Ages 5 and Up

Arches National Park in southeastern Utah has many geologic wonders to recommend it, but from a kid’s perspective, one of the coolest experiences is scrambling up underneath an arch like Double Arch in the park’s Windows Section or Partition Arch in Devils Garden—the first a short walk, the second a hike of two to three hours round-trip.

Skyline Arch in Arches National Park.
Skyline Arch in Arches National Park.

For short, easy walks to several arches, feasible with young kids, start in the Windows Section, where you can get up close and personal with Double Arch, Turret Arch, and South Window. For a longer but relatively flat hike of up to a half-day (although you can shorten it), explore Devils Garden, including Pine Tree, Navajo, and Partition arches, and the park’s longest, Landscape Arch.

Skyline Arch, which is a short hike but sits by itself and thus attracts fewer people, sits high on the wall of a narrow canyon, and you can scramble up the canyon’s opposite wall for a bird’s-eye view of the arch. If you have a full day, take a ranger-guided tour of the Fiery Furnace, a maze of narrow canyons.

See my story “No Straight Lines: Backpacking and Hiking in Canyonlands and Arches National Parks,” and all stories about Arches National Park at The Big Outside.

Which puffy should you buy? See “The 12 Best Down Jackets
and “How You Can Tell How Warm a Down Jacket Is.”

 

A teenage boy hiking Angels Landing, Zion National Park.
My son, Nate, hiking Angels Landing in Zion National Park.

Hike Zion’s Breathtaking Trails

Ages 6 and Up

Even among America’s flagship national parks—gems like Yosemite, Grand Canyon, and Yellowstone—Zion stands out for having several dayhikes that would make the top 10 list of many avid hikers. Angels Landing, The Narrows, the West Rim Trail, Hidden Canyon, and Observation Point, to name just a handful that begin right in Zion Canyon, feature scenery that actually does justice to the adjective “breathtaking.” No other place really compares to Zion.

Woman and two young children backpacking the West Rim Trail in Zion National Park.
My wife, Penny, with our kids, Nate and Alex, hiking up the West Rim Trail on a family backpacking trip in Zion National Park.

If your family is ready for a multi-day backpacking trip, Zion offers some of the best in the national parks, including an overnight hike in the Narrows and trips of two to four days in the Kolob Canyons and on the West Rim Trail or combining those two areas of the park on a beautiful traverse. And among technical dayhikes that require appropriate gear and skills like rappelling and navigating and wading slot canyons with cold pools of water, few compare with Zion’s Subway.

These hikes and others range widely in distance, difficulty, and gut-churning excitement quotient, and comfort level doesn’t always correlate directly with age. Stop in the park visitor center for information about these hikes, including current conditions; rangers can let you know when to avoid some of them.

See my stories “The 10 Best Hikes in Zion National Park,” “Hiking Angels Landing: What You Need to Know,” “Pilgrimage Across Zion: Traversing a Land of Otherworldly Scenery,” “Luck of the Draw, Part 2: Backpacking Zion’s Narrows,” my expert e-book to backpacking Zion’s Narrows, and all stories about Zion National Park at The Big Outside.

Explore the best of the Southwest. See “The 15 Best Hikes in Utah’s National Parks
and “The 12 Best Backpacking Trips in the Southwest.”

A hiker on the John Muir Trail in Yosemite overlooking Half Dome, Liberty Cap, and Nevada Fall.
My wife, Penny, on the John Muir Trail in Yosemite overlooking Half Dome, Liberty Cap, and Nevada Fall.

Stand Beneath Yosemite’s Waterfalls and Summit Half Dome

Ages 7 and Up

Yosemite Valley and its surrounding high country was an early inspiration for creating a system of national parks—and the source of that inspiration becomes clearer when you explore beyond the Valley’s busy roads, hiking to its justifiably world-famous waterfalls and the summit of one of Yosemite’s iconic landmarks, Half Dome.

Upper Yosemite Falls in Yosemite National Park.
Upper Yosemite Falls in Yosemite National Park.

Dayhike the 7.2-mile, 2,700-vertical-foot Upper Yosemite Falls Trail to the brink of that waterfall, which plunges a sheer 1,400 feet through the air; or hike only about an hour to 90 minutes up that trail to a spot close enough to the base of the waterfall to feel the light rain of its mist.

The 6.3-mile, 2,000-vertical-foot loop on the Mist Trail and John Muir Trail takes you through the raining mist of 317-foot-tall Vernal Fall—which can be drenching in late spring—and both below and above the thunderous plume of nearly 600-foot-tall Nevada Fall.

Fit hikers—including older kids—with strong endurance can continue past Nevada Fall to dayhike up the exposed cable route to the summit of Half Dome, a 16-mile, 4,800-foot round trip that requires a permit. Adventurous families can venture beyond dayhiking distance, with myriad choices for five-star backpacking trips of virtually any length and difficulty.

See my stories “The 12 Best Dayhikes in Yosemite,” “The Magic of Hiking to Yosemite’s Waterfalls,” “Hiking Half Dome: How to Do It Right and Get a Permit,” “The 10 Best Backpacking Trips in Yosemite,” and all stories about Yosemite National Park at The Big Outside.

See also my e-books to three amazing backpacking trips in Yosemite.

I’ve helped many readers plan unforgettable adventures in Yosemite and elsewhere.
Want my help with yours? Find out more here.

 

A young boy hiking in the North Fork Cascade Canyon in Grand Teton National Park.
My son, Nate, on a family backpacking trip in Grand Teton National Park. Click photo for my e-book “The Best Short Backpacking Trip in Grand Teton National Park.”

Ascend Into the Tetons

Ages 7 and Up

Regular readers of this blog know that the Tetons are one of my favorite mountain ranges—I’ve made more than 20 trips dayhiking, backpacking, climbing, and backcountry skiing there—and I rank the Teton Crest Trail among “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips.”

Backpackers on the Teton Crest Trail on Death Canyon Shelf, Grand Teton National Park.
My son, Nate, and friend Mike Baron backpacking the Teton Crest Trail on Death Canyon Shelf, Grand Teton National Park.

But the TCT is an ambitious and moderately strenuous hike of at least four days for most adults. The first Teton backpacking trip I took my kids on, when they were eight and six, was a three-day hike of Grand Teton’s nearly 20-mile Paintbrush-Cascade Canyons Loop.

Probably the most popular backpacking route in the park because of its relatively short distance, easy access, and stellar scenery, it takes you through two of the park’s most stunning canyons and over one of the highest mountain passes reached by a trail in the park, 10,700-foot Paintbrush Divide (which can be difficult to cross, due to snow, until August). Campsites in Upper Paintbrush Canyon have views of soaring, striated canyon walls, and in the North Fork of Cascade Canyon you will drink in a stunning view of the Grand Teton framed by canyon walls—still one of my favorite backcountry campsites ever.

See all stories about backpacking Grand Teton National Park at The Big Outside, including “A Wonderful Obsession: Backpacking the Teton Crest Trail,” my story about backpacking the TCT with my family, and “How to Get a Permit to Backpack the Teton Crest Trail,” with tips relevant to applying for a permit for any trip in the park.

Click here now to get my e-book to the best short backpacking trip in Grand Teton National Park. Click here to see all of my e-books.

A mother and young daughter paddling a mangrove tunnel on the East River, in Florida's Everglades region.
My daughter, Alex, and wife, Penny, paddling a mangrove tunnel on the East River, on the edge of Florida’s Everglades.

Immerse Yourself in the Wild Everglades

Ages 7 and Up

Young kids playing on the beach near sunset on Tiger Key in the Ten Thousand Islands, Everglades National Park.
The kids playing on the beach near sunset on Tiger Key in the Ten Thousand Islands, Everglades National Park.

The Everglades is the kind of place that will shock you with its uniqueness and abundance of exotic fauna. Paddling sit-on-top kayaks on a placid river that flowed through mangrove tunnels, and canoes in the generally calm, shallow waters of the Ten Thousand Islands, my family watched an almost constant aerial parade of white ibises, black anhingas, tri-colored herons, brown pelicans and great blue herons fly just overhead.

On one paddling tour from the campsite we had to ourselves on a wilderness beach—where we watched the sun sink into the Gulf of Mexico—my son and I twisted around excitedly in our seats as a dolphin circled our canoe several times. On another paddle with my daughter, we exchanged long gazes with a gaggle of roseate spoonbills perched in a tree.

Much of the Everglades is a vast wilderness—at 1.5 million acres, the third-largest national park in the contiguous United States, bigger than Glacier or Grand Canyon and twice the size of Yosemite—offering opportunities for remote, multi-day, water-based adventures. But there are family-friendly options, like paddling canoes for a few hours on a well-marked water route to camp on a beach you have to yourselves.

See my story “Like No Other Place: Paddling the Everglades.”

Paddling the Everglades is one of “The 10 Best Family Outdoor Adventure Trips.”

A young boy backpacking the Olympic coast near Strawberry Point, Olympic National Park.
My son, Nate, backpacking the Olympic coast near Strawberry Point, Olympic National Park.

Hike and Camp on the Wild Olympic Coast

Ages 7 and Up

Starfish, mussels, anemones on a boulder, Olympic coast.
My son, Nate, standing atop a boulder wallpapered with starfish, mussels, anemones on the southern Olympic coast.

My kids, who were nine and seven when we backpacked this three-day, 17.5-mile traverse of Washington’s southern Olympic coast, remember playing for hours in tide pools; exploring a massive boulder wallpapered with mussels, sea anemones, and sea stars; and climbing up and down thrilling rope ladders on steep headwalls. Throughout their childhoods, they called it one of their favorite trips (and it’s one of my top 10 family adventures).

The adults on this hike remember it for the rich sea life and birds—we saw seals, a sea otter, a great blue heron, and other wildlife—as well as the scenery, with scores of sea stacks rising straight out of the ocean and giant trees behind the beach.

It’s a surprisingly rugged trip—which goes far in explaining why fewer backpackers hike the southern stretch of the Olympic coast compared to the less-strenuous northern stretch. But many kids who’ve done some dayhiking and backpacking will do just fine—and revel in the adventurousness nature of it. Parents would have to feel either comfortable guiding their kids on the mandatory rope ladders or confident in their kids’ ability to managing them on their own.

See my story “The Wildest Shore: Backpacking the Southern Olympic Coast” and all stories about Olympic National Park at The Big Outside.

Planning your next big adventure? See “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips
and “The 25 Best National Park Dayhikes.”

Young kids hiking the Gunsight Pass Trail in Glacier National Park.
My kids hiking the Gunsight Pass Trail in Glacier National Park.

Backpack in Glacier National Park

Ages 8 and Up

Mountain goat along Glacier National Park's Gunsight Pass Trail.
A mountain goat seen from the Gunsight Pass Trail, high above Gunsight Lake in Glacier National Park.

As my family hiked up the Gunsight Pass Trail on our way to that 6,900-foot pass in Glacier National Park, a mountain goat, as white as fresh snow, with sharp, straight horns, hopped onto the trail not 50 feet ahead of us, on a stretch where the path clings to the face of a cliff. We stopped, and my kids, then nine and seven, glanced back and forth between the goat and my wife and me, simultaneously amazed and wondering what came next.

We waited. And when the goat finally relinquished the trail to us, scrambling nimbly down the cliff below, we peered over the brink to see where it went—but it had disappeared. My daughter, Alex, muttered, “I can’t believe it went down there.”

The 20-mile Gunsight Pass Trail traverse from the Jackson Glacier Overlook to Lake McDonald Lodge, both on the Going-to-the-Sun Road, takes in views of glaciers and rocky peaks and features campsites at Gunsight Lake and Lake Ellen Wilson that sit beneath tall cliffs spliced by waterfalls. It offers a relatively short but incredibly scenic backpacking trip with easy transportation logistics: Both trailheads are served by the park’s free shuttle bus. It’s also not crowded with dayhikers like trails around Many Glacier and Logan Pass.

See my story “Jagged Peaks and Wild Goats: Backpacking Glacier’s Gunsight Pass Trail,” “How to Get a Permit to Backpack in Glacier National Park,” my two expert e-books to longer backpacking trips in Glacier, and all stories about backpacking in Glacier at The Big Outside.

See my “10 Tips for Taking Kids on Their First Backpacking Trip
and my very popular “10 Tips For Raising Outdoors-Loving Kids.”

 

A young girl backpacking on Horseshoe Mesa in the Grand Canyon.
My daughter, Alex, backpacking on Horseshoe Mesa in the Grand Canyon.

Descend Into the Grand Canyon

Ages 8 and Up

The Grand Canyon looks impressive from its rim, but you really have to hike down into the Big Ditch to experience the full Alice-down-the-rabbit-hole sensation of its awesome scale. With virtually no vegetation obstructing the long vistas, towers thousands of feet tall appear to balloon to massive dimensions as you slowly approach them, until they dwarf their surroundings, then shrink into the background as you hike farther away. After many visits, I’ve yet to find a mediocre view or a bad backcountry campsite.

A school-age girl backpacking the Tonto Trail in the Grand Canyon.
My daughter, Alex, at 10, backpacking the Tonto Trail in the Grand Canyon.

Get that experience on a dayhike or backpacking trip into the canyon. Hike either of the easily accessed and best-constructed trails dropping into the canyon from the South Rim. Follow the Bright Angel Trail down as far as you want—there are numerous logical turnaround points within the first few miles, or go all the way to Indian Garden (nine miles and nearly 3,000 feet round-trip).

Or descend the South Kaibab Trail, one of America’s most scenic footpaths, with constant, ridge-crest views of a huge swath of the canyon. Accessible backpacking options off the South Rim allow for trips of two to five days or more.

See my e-book “The Best First Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon” and all stories about the Grand Canyon at The Big Outside.

Get the right pack for you. See “The 10 Best Backpacking Packs
and “The 10 Best Hiking Daypacks.”

Michael Lanza's family sea kayaking in Johns Hopkins Inlet, Glacier Bay National Park.
My family sea kayaking in Johns Hopkins Inlet in Alaska’s Glacier Bay National Park.

Sea Kayak Back to the Ice Age

Ages 8 and Up

Southeast Alaska’s Glacier Bay is the size of Connecticut and sits at the heart of a contiguous protected wilderness the size of Greece. There are simply few places of this size that are as pristine on the entire planet.

Steller sea lions on tiny South Marble Island, Glacier Bay National Park.
Steller sea lions on tiny South Marble Island, Glacier Bay National Park.

Glacier Bay has seen the fastest glacial retreat on Earth: Two centuries ago, there was no Glacier Bay, just a colossal river of ice 4,000 feet thick and 20 miles wide stretching 100 miles into the St. Elias Mountains. The ice has since pulled back 65 miles, creating a fjord with 1,200 miles of coastline that provides a living window into what the world looked like at the end of the last Ice Age.

On a multi-day sea kayaking trip, camping every night on a secluded, wilderness beach, you can see massive tidewater glaciers explosively calving bus-sized chunks of ice into the sea, humpback whales, orcas, Steller sea lions, mountain goats, seals, sea otters, brown bears, and a variety of birds and wildflowers—not to mention views of some of the more than 50 glaciers covering 1,375 square miles of the park, and peaks that rise to over 15,000 feet.

See my story “Back to the Ice Age: Sea Kayaking Glacier Bay.”

See also all stories about national park adventures and family adventures at The Big Outside.

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Backpacking the Grand Canyon: Tonto West to Boucher Trail https://thebigoutsideblog.com/backpacking-the-grand-canyon-tonto-west-to-boucher-trail/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/backpacking-the-grand-canyon-tonto-west-to-boucher-trail/#comments Sun, 21 Sep 2025 20:27:59 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=68085 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

A thin, hazy overcast keeps the sun from frying my longtime friend and adventure partner David Ports and me as we descend the Grand Canyon’s South Kaibab Trail—a trail I’ve now hiked more times than I can immediately recall. And yet, watching how the marching, broken clouds cause the light to shift across the broad expanse of canyon visible to us, seeming to repaint and reshape the landscape every few minutes, it still feels fresh and thrilling to me.

Before long, though, as often happens in this canyon, the sun emerges to begin doing what the clouds had protected us from: frying us—figuratively speaking, of course.

It’s the first morning of our four-day, late-March backpacking trip from the South Kaibab to Hermits Rest, finishing via the Boucher Trail (pronounced BOO-shay), a notoriously steep route connecting the Tonto Trail west of Hermit Canyon to the upper part of the Hermit Trail.


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Backpackers hiking the Tonto Trail west of Hermit Canyon in the Grand Canyon.
My wife, Penny, and Annie Black backpacking the Tonto Trail west of Hermit Canyon in the Grand Canyon.

And I’ll admit that it feels a little repetitive and almost like an inside joke to use words like “notoriously steep” to describe the Boucher, because “steep” should be considered an assumed descriptor for at least portions of any footpath that descends from either the South or North Rim into the canyon’s interior—which typically involve at least 3,000 feet and often more than 4,000 feet of vertical relief over several miles.

The park website’s own ominous descriptions of trails reflect this truth, from the New Hance Trail (“may be the most difficult established trail on the South Rim of the Grand Canyon”) and Tanner Trail (“steep” and “one of the most difficult and demanding developed trails in the park”), to the Hermit Trail (“the upper section of the Hermit Trail is steep and sustained”), Bill Hall Trail (“quite steep and includes a 15-foot scramble”), and the Royal Arch Loop (“considered by many to be the most difficult of the established south side hikes”), to list just a handful of examples. (Note: Links in this story to many other stories at this blog require a paid subscription to read in full.)

Planning a backpacking trip? See “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips
and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”

Backpackers hiking up the Boucher Trail in Grand Canyon National Park.
Annie Black and my wife, Penny, backpacking up the Boucher Trail in Grand Canyon National Park.

Still, we’ll discover on this trip’s last day that the Boucher is, indeed, even steeper than all of those trails (all of which I’ve backpacked). More precisely, the park’s description of it warns that “the trail is being slowly reclaimed by erosion—steep, narrow, and covered in a layer of ball bearing-like pebbles. Take your time!”

But while the hike ahead of us will feel challenging and leave us weary at the end of some days, we have a group of six who are ready for it—including a couple of Grand Canyon backpacking newbies who have the fitness and attitude for the difficulty. Besides David, who’s hiked in this canyon a few times, and me, that includes my wife, Penny, experienced in the GC and on countless other trips; Penny’s great friend since college, Annie Black, a first-time backpacker here but with much experience elsewhere; our 22-year-old daughter, Alex, herself with more multi-day hikes on her résumé than she can remember, going back to age five, including twice in this canyon (first time at age seven); and her good friend from college, Harper Meyer, on her first trip here and first with (most of) my family. Harper will meet and exceed our qualifications for backpacking partners: fit, fun, interesting, and badass.

The four women have started our hike by descending the Bright Angel Trail, the most direct route for backpacking west on the Tonto Trail toward the Hermit and Boucher. David and I will rendezvous with them at Havasupai Gardens. He and I have also been up and down the B.A. several times each and chose the South Kaibab because, well, it’s certainly one of the very best trails in the entire National Park System, and we will traverse the only piece of the 95-mile-long Tonto Trail that I have not yet walked: the section that wriggles for about 4.5 miles between the South Kaibab and Bright Angel.

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Backpackers hiking the Tonto Trail west through Monument Creek Canyon in the Grand Canyon.
Our group backpacking the Tonto Trail west through Monument Creek Canyon in the Grand Canyon. Click photo to read “How to Get a Permit to Backpack in the Grand Canyon.”

At the Tipoff, where the South Kaibab crosses the Tonto Trail, 4.4 miles and more than 3,200 feet below the trailhead where we started out two hours ago (and still more than two trail miles and 1,500 feet above the Colorado River), David and I turn west onto the Tonto—and within minutes, as I’ve seen happen so many times when hiking one of the park’s three corridor trails (South and North Kaibab and Bright Angel), we’ve left behind a popular trail where we passed dozens of dayhikers and backpackers to find ourselves on a path with long views and, for most of the next couple of hours, not another person in sight.

Like other sections of the Tonto, here it mostly rolls over the Tonto Plateau, dropping slightly to cross the lush, tree-lined canyon of spring-fed Pipe Creek and then reversing that slight descent on the other side. We gaze up at tall cliffs to one side and, in the other direction, out over the Grand Canyon’s chaotic topography, our viewshed spanning the Colorado River to the distant North Rim.

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and an easier alternative, “The Best First Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon.”

A backpacker hiking the Tonto Trail west of Horn Creek in the Grand Canyon.
David Ports backpacking the Tonto Trail west of Horn Creek in the Grand Canyon. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan this trip or any trip you read about at this blog.

At Havasupai Gardens, we find the rest of our party waiting for us and all set out to hike another hour or more to our first camp at Horn Creek. To all of us, coming from northern states, the afternoon temperature feels hot: It’s in the low 80s Fahrenheit, a bit unusual for late March. But the Tonto Trail continues dealing us a generous hand of easy, nearly flat, and fast walking past spiky plants, the wildflowers not yet in bloom just a week into spring.

At Horn Creek, we have the established tent sites and thin shade of small cottonwoods all to ourselves. When the sun drops behind the canyon rim, the air calms and feels comfortably warm. We sit around trading stories until everyone is ready for sleep. I lay my bag and air mat out atop a large boulder at the edge of the creek bed that I remember sleeping on with Penny on a mild spring night like this one 26 years ago. With no moon, the sky becomes a silent blizzard of stars.

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Horn Creek to Monument Creek and Granite Rapids

The sun already feels warm as we file out of camp in pairs around 9 a.m. Except for sitting in the patchy shade of boulders a couple of times today—and the extended break we’ll take in the deep shade of canyon walls at Monument Creek—the six of us will get no respite from the sun’s heat until it sets behind the canyon rim tonight.

The sun at mid-morning in late March remains low enough to throw both intense light and long, heavy shadows in almost equal distribution across the canyon. A breeze tantalizes us with its cooling effect on open bends in the trail around ridges tumbling off the South Rim, but abandons us as we walk along the lee sides of those ridges, where we feel every degree of the solar heat. 

An hour out, as David and I sit in the hard shade of a large rock, first Harper and Alex appear over the saddle between tributary canyons, joined within minutes by Annie and Penny. After a break huddled close together in that shrinking shadow, we all depart together but soon spread out, paired up according to our paces. In this very capable group of family and friends, nobody needs anyone to act as guide. But we always establish the next place where we’ll stop and regroup.

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Contact Grand Canyon National Park, nps.gov/grca. See trail descriptions, including water sources, at nps.gov/grca/planyourvisit/campsite-information.htm.

Not sure this is for you? See my stories “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be,” “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” and “5 Questions to Ask Before Trying a New Outdoors Adventure,” and this menu of all stories offering expert backpacking tips at The Big Outside.

Want my help planning the details of this trip, including an itinerary appropriate for your group? See my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you plan this or any trip you read about at this blog.

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See “10 Epic Grand Canyon Backpacking Trips You Must Do,” “How to Get a Permit to Backpack in the Grand Canyon,” and all stories about backpacking in the Grand Canyon at The Big Outside.

The Gear I Used See my reviews of the outstanding backpack, sleeping bag, down jacket, air mattress, and stove I used on this trip.

Find the best gear, expert buying tips, and best-in-category reviews at my Gear Reviews page.

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Backpacking Glacier National Park—a Photo Gallery https://thebigoutsideblog.com/featured-photo-gallery-backpacking-glacier-national-park/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/featured-photo-gallery-backpacking-glacier-national-park/#comments Sat, 20 Sep 2025 09:00:42 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=6623 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

If you have ever backpacked in Glacier National Park, you know you want to return. If you haven’t yet, then isn’t it time? One of America’s flagship national parks, it’s a must-see destination for backpackers because of the eye-popping scenery, remoteness, and an extremely rare variety of megafauna—including mountain goats, bighorn sheep, elk, moose, and black and grizzly bears—as the photo gallery below from my numerous trips in Glacier shows.

And it’s not too early to start planning a backpacking trip in Glacier for next summer.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A backpacker hiking the Ptarmigan Tunnel Trail above Elizabeth Lake in Glacier National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking the Ptarmigan Tunnel Trail above Elizabeth Lake in Glacier National Park.

There are many good reasons I rank Glacier as one of “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips,” a list I base on having backpacked all over the country for more than three decades, including 10 years I spent as the Northwest Editor of Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog.

On every multi-day hike I’ve taken there—such as the 65-mile route I consider the best backpacking trip in Glacier—I have marveled at an ocean of mountains spreading out before us, soaring cliffs, some of the park’s 760 lakes, sightings of bighorn sheep, mountain goats, and bears (yes, including grizzlies)—and enjoyed a surprising degree of solitude even while hitting many of the park’s highlights.

See my expert e-books to two outstanding backpacking trips in Glacier
and my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can plan every detail of your Glacier trip.

 

A backpacker hiking the Dawson Pass Trail above Pitamakan Pass in Glacier National Park.
Pam Solon backpacking the Dawson Pass Trail above Pitamakan Pass in Glacier National Park.

My advice: Start planning your Glacier adventure months in advance. Backcountry campsites can be reserved in advance starting March 15 for groups of one to eight people (although having a group of more than four gets much more complicated) and March 1 for groups of nine to 12. Permits for about 40 percent of backcountry campsites in Glacier are issued on a first-come basis no more than a day before a trip’s start date—but that’s a hard permit to get because of the high demand and backpackers on a multi-day hike may claim some of those walk-in sites farther in advance. 

Glacier holds two 24-hour lotteries for early-access times to reserve a backcountry permit, on March 1 for large groups of nine to 12 people and on March 15 for standard groups of one to eight people. Standard group lottery winners will get a date and time when they can apply for a permit reservation. Large-group lottery winners will receive special instructions for applying for a permit reservation. Glacier makes 70 percent of backcountry campsites available for reservations and 30 percent of campsites available for walk-in permits no more than one day in advance during the backpacking season.

Click any photo in the gallery to scroll through it. Scroll below the gallery for links to stories about backpacking in Glacier at The Big Outside.

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Read 5 Reasons You Must Backpack in Glacier National Park” “How to Get a Permit to Backpack in Glacier National Park” and “10 Tips For Getting a Hard-to-Get National Park Backcountry Permit,” and all stories about backpacking in Glacier at The Big Outside (many of which require a paid subscription to read in full, including expert tips on planning those trips), And find more info at nps.gov/glac/planyourvisit/backcountry-reservations.htm.

See also my expert e-books to two outstanding backpacking trips in Glacier and my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can plan every detail of a Glacier trip customized to your preferences.

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Backpacking Mount Rainier’s Wonderland Trail—A Photo Gallery https://thebigoutsideblog.com/backpacking-mount-rainiers-wonderland-trail-a-photo-gallery/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/backpacking-mount-rainiers-wonderland-trail-a-photo-gallery/#comments Sat, 13 Sep 2025 09:05:47 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=6538 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

On the first afternoon of a five-day, late-summer backpacking trip covering much of the 93-mile Wonderland Trail around Mount Rainier, two friends and I were making a long ascent through meadows bursting with lupine when we spotted two mountain goats staring at us from rocks partly hidden by bushes—and within seconds, we counted nine goats. Not much later, the morning fog finally lifted, revealing Mount Rainier in all its glory, a vast mountainside of ice and snow rising nearly 8,000 feet above us. Crossing endless wildflower meadows in warm sunshine, a light breeze, and just about perfect hiking temperatures, we reached Panhandle Gap at 6,750 feet—the highest point on the Wonderland—with its expansive view of The Mountain. Below us, at least 18 mountain goats grazed in a flat meadow carpeted in green grass.

And that anecdote encapsulates scenes that occurred daily on the Wonderland Trail.

The Wonderland Trail certainly belongs on any list of America’s best backpacking trips—and I have hiked most of the best (some of them multiple times) over more than three decades, including many years running this blog and previously as the Northwest Editor of Backpacker magazine for 10 years. The Wonderland possesses virtually all of the qualities that make for a great multi-day hike—including repeated views, from all sides, of the most heavily glaciated peak in the Lower 48, 14,410-foot Mount Rainier.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A backpacker descending from Panhandle Gap on the Wonderland Trail in Mount Rainier National Park.
Todd Arndt descending from Panhandle Gap on the Wonderland Trail in Mount Rainier National Park.. Click photo for my expert e-book to backpacking the Wonderland Trail.

Check out the photo gallery below from backpacking trips I’ve taken on the Wonderland Trail and my story about the 77-mile, late-summer hike I took with two friends, “American Gem: Backpacking Mount Rainier’s Wonderland Trail.” Like many stories at The Big Outside, including most stories about trips, that one requires a paid subscription to read in full.

For as special as it is, the Wonderland ranks among the hardest backpacking permits to get in the country. See How to Get a Permit to Backpack Rainier’s Wonderland Trail” and “10 Tips for Getting a Hard-to-Get National Park Backcountry Permit;” and get my e-book “The Complete Guide to Backpacking the Wonderland Trail Around Mount Rainier” to learn everything you need to know to plan and take this classic trip.

And see my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can put together a completely customized plan for you to backpack part or all of the Wonderland Trail or for any trip you read about at this blog.

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A backpacker below the Tahoma Glacier on Emerald Ridge, on the Wonderland Trail, Mount Rainier National Park.
Todd Arndt backpacking the Wonderland Trail on Emerald Ridge, below the Tahoma Glacier, Mount Rainier National Park.

If you’re looking for a beautiful introductory backpacking trip at Mount Rainier National Park, you could hardly do better than the three-day, 22-mile hike from Mowich Lake to Sunrise, much of it on the Wonderland Trail. Crossing the northern tier of the park, you’ll enjoy some of the best wildflower displays you’ve ever seen in Spray Park and Berkeley Park, get a close-up look at the massive Carbon Glacier, and gaze up awestruck at Rainier’s ice- and snow-clad north face from spots like Mystic Lake. See my story about taking that trip with my family when our kids were young, “Wildflowers, Waterfalls, and Slugs at Mt. Rainier.”

If you’re more interested in seeing the best parts of the Wonderland on dayhikes, see “The Best Hikes in Mount Rainier National Park.”

If you have backpacked the Wonderland or have other questions or suggestions about it, please share them in the comments section below. I try to respond to all comments.

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I’ve helped many readers plan unforgettable backpacking and hiking trips. Want my help with yours? Click here now.

 

I’ve helped many readers plan unforgettable backpacking and hiking trips.
Want my help with yours? Click here now.

 

 

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10 Awe-Inspiring Wild Places in America’s West https://thebigoutsideblog.com/photo-gallery-10-awe-inspiring-wild-places/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/photo-gallery-10-awe-inspiring-wild-places/#comments Tue, 09 Sep 2025 09:00:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=26400 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Over more than three decades of backpacking adventures throughout America’s West, I’ve been fortunate to explore deeply into our most cherished national parks, wilderness areas, and protected backcountry. All of them are special. But some places rise above the rest, inspiring a sense of awe that can motivate us to reorder our priorities and rearrange our lives—and they have that effect on us every time we return to them. This story spotlights those special places in the West and many trips that you can take in them.

From the High Sierra to the Wind River Range, the Cascades to the best of southern Utah, Glacier, the Tetons and Yellowstone to the Grand Canyon and more, the 10 places and more than 40 trips described below comprise a tick list of five-star adventures that will keep you busy for years. (They have done exactly that for me.)


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A backpacker at Park Creek Pass, North Cascades National Park.
Todd Arndt at Park Creek Pass, North Cascades National Park.

All of these adventures possess unique qualities that make them feel extraordinary while you’re out there and stay with you for a long time afterward—and I say that from the perspective of having taken scores of backpacking trips all over the country for more than 30 years, including the 10 years I spent as Northwest Editor of Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog.

The descriptions below all link to stories at The Big Outside with many more images and information. (Those stories require a paid subscription to The Big Outside to read in full, including my expert tips on planning each trip.)

Please share your thoughts about my list or any suggestions you have for similarly awe-inspiring adventures in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

A backpacker hiking to Island Lake in Wyoming's Wind River Range.
Todd Arndt backpacking to Island Lake in Wyoming’s Wind River Range.

The Wind River Range

You could count on the fingers of one hand—without needing every finger—the number of Lower 48 mountain ranges where you can hike for days below rows of jagged 13,000-foot peaks, passing more of the prettiest alpine lakes you’ve ever seen than other people. And one of those places is Wyoming’s Wind River Range.

On a roughly 41-mile loop from Elkhart Park, two friends and I spent a night in one of the most awe-inspiring spots in the West, Titcomb Basin, an alpine valley at over 10,000 feet where evening alpenglow painted a granite wall of 13,000-footers above us golden. Our route crossed three 12,000-foot passes, one via an adventurous, off-trail route over that led into a lovely hanging valley.

Justin Glass at a small tarn on the Wind River High Route.

A few summers ago, three companions and I made a very rugged, seven-day, 96-mile south-to-north traverse of the Wind River High Route, two-thirds of which is off-trail—one of the most difficult and stunning adventures I’ve ever loved. I returned in late summer 2022, when three of us backpacked a 43-mile loop in an area I had mostly never seen before and—not surprisingly—walked through inspiring scenery every day while encountering few other backpackers.

And most recently, in August 2023, a friend and I hiked a four-day, 41-mile route that crossed the Continental Divide four times, enjoying a five-star campsite near a beautiful alpine lake every night and passing through one of the justifiably best-known areas of the Winds, the Cirque of the Towers.

As I’ve learned on several multi-day trips into the Winds: Being there can make you believe that these are the most magnificent mountains you’ve ever seen. And you might be right about that. The Winds keep pulling me back.

See “The 10 Best Backpacking Trips in the Wind River Range,” “5 Reasons You Must Backpack the Wind River Range,” “The Best Backpacking Trip in the Wind River Range? Yup,” and all stories about backpacking in the Winds at The Big Outside.

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A tarn near Helen Lake, along the John Muir Trail in Kings Canyon National Park.
A tarn near Helen Lake, along the John Muir Trail in Kings Canyon National Park.

The High Sierra

The Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne River, Yosemite.
The Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne River in Yosemite.

Every time I return to explore another area of California’s High Sierra—as I did again most recently in August 2022, backpacking about 130 miles in nine days, mostly on the John Muir Trail through Kings Canyon National Park and the Ansel Adams and John Muir wildernesses—I’m reminded of just how magnificent and vast this mountain range is.

Spanning three iconic national parks—Kings Canyon, Sequoia, and Yosemite—and several national forests and wilderness areas, with thousands of miles of trails and alpine lakes, the Sierra offers endless opportunities for backpacking trips of any length and enough adventures to fill multiple lifetimes.

My own many backcountry travels in the Sierra have included several backpacking trips and dayhikes in Yosemite, where the beauty never ends, even after you’ve hit all the best-known corners; hiking a 40-mile loop with my family in Sequoia, crossing passes up to 11,630 feet and marveling over a landscape the camera loved; climbing the Lower 48’s highest peak, Mount Whitney, with my son; and thru-hiking the JMT. All of those and other trips have given me a good base of knowledge about the Sierra—and only whetted my appetite for more.

See “The 10 Best Backpacking Trips in Yosemite” and “Heavy Lifting: Backpacking Sequoia National Park,” my stories about thru-hiking the JMT and climbing Mount Whitney, my expert e-books to three stellar backpacking trips in Yosemite, plus all stories about backpacking the JMT and backpacking in the High Sierra at The Big Outside.

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A backpacker descending toward Granite Creek on the Wonderland Trail in Mount Rainier National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm descending toward Granite Creek on the Wonderland Trail in Mount Rainier National Park. Click photo for my expert e-book to backpacking the Wonderland Trail.

The Cascade Range

Stretching 700 miles from northern California through Oregon and Washington into southern British Columbia, the Cascade Range—with the notable exception of Mount Rainier—does not reach the heights of the Sierra. But the range is nearly twice as long and harbors some of the finest backpacking trails in the country, both famous and relatively obscure.

A backpacker on the Timberline Trail around Oregon's Mount Hood.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking the Timberline Trail around Oregon’s Mount Hood.

The 93-mile Wonderland Trail (lead photo at top of story) around Washington’s 14,410-foot Mount Rainier belongs on any list of America’s best backpacking trips—for the countless, jarring views of the most heavily glaciated peak in the Lower 48, some of the most beautiful wildflower meadows you will ever see, numerous waterfalls and cascades, raging rivers gray with “glacial flour,” and sightings of mountain goats, marmots, and black bears.

See my stories about my backpacking trip on what I consider the best sections of the Wonderland and “5 Reasons You Must Backpack Mount Rainier’s Wonderland Trail,” and my expert e-book “The Complete Guide to Backpacking the Wonderland Trail in Mount Rainier National Park.”

Glacier Peak looming above Image Lake in Washington's Glacier Peak Wilderness.
Glacier Peak looming above Image Lake in Washington’s Glacier Peak Wilderness.

The 41-mile Timberline Trail around Oregon’s Mount Hood rivals the Wonderland for wildflowers, waterfalls, and scenery, including frequent views of 11,239-foot Mount Hood. The Timberline also serves up challenges like potentially edgy creek fords—and it requires less than half the time of hiking the entire Wonderland, with no permit complications. See my story “Full of Surprises: Backpacking Mount Hood’s Timberline Trail.”

Check out these three other very worthy Cascades backpacking trips:

• The stunning and adventurous, 44-mile Spider Gap-Buck Creek Pass loop in Washington’s Glacier Peak Wilderness.
• A 44-mile loop in the sprawling Pasayten Wilderness, combining the Pacific Crest Trail and more-remote and lonely trails with equally great scenery.
• And an 80-mile hike, with shorter variations, that delivers a stellar tour of North Cascades National Park.

I can help you plan any trip you read about at my blog. Find out more here.

A backpacker descending the trail off Maze Overlook in the Maze District, Canyonlands National Park.
Pam Solon backpacking the trail off Maze Overlook in the Maze District, Canyonlands National Park.

Southern Utah

Backpackers in the narrows of Paria Canyon.
Backpackers in the narrows of Paria Canyon.

The national parks and other wildlands of southern Utah protect some of the best dayhikes and backpacking trips in America—period. But among all the multi-day hikes at the bottom of Utah, four stand head and shoulders above the rest: the Needles and Maze districts of Canyonlands National Park, Paria Canyon, and Zion’s Narrows.

In the more user-friendly Needles District of Canyonlands National Park, stratified cliffs stretch for miles and trails zigzag across waves of slickrock slabs below multi-colored sandstone candlesticks rising 300 feet tall. Across the Green River, in the Maze District, trails lead from overlooks of a vast, chaotic sweep of sandstone fins, towers, and canyons to circuitous routes through canyons that could only be called the Maze. With very rugged hiking through a hard-to-reach corner of the Southwest where water sources often dry up seasonally, the Maze is unquestionably hard—and a holy grail for serious Southwest backpackers.

Famous among backpackers for its towering walls of orange-red sandstone painted wildly with desert varnish and illuminated by reflected sunlight, hanging gardens where springs pour from rock, and campsites on sandy benches shaded by cottonwood trees, Paria Canyon is a must-do adventure made more, well, “interesting” by pockets of quicksand. Hike it top to bottom or combined with its 15-mile-long tributary slot canyon, Buckskin Gulch—which gets so tight that you must take off your pack and squeeze through sideways.

A backpacker in The Narrows in Zion National Park.
David Gordon backpacking The Narrows in Zion National Park. Click photo for my expert e-book to backpacking The Narrows.

The Narrows of Zion National Park certainly ranks among America’s top 10 backpacking trips and the best in the Southwest. Much of the magic lies in seeing it change as you literally walk deeper into the earth, splashing down the river through deeply shaded, tight passages and seeing springs gush from solid rock, creating lush desert oases. Backpack the 14-mile route from top to bottom, spending a night in the canyon to savor the solitude of an evening below walls that soar 1,000 feet tall and a slice of black sky bursting with stars.

See my stories “No Straight Lines: Backpacking and Hiking in Canyonlands and Arches National Parks,” “Farther Than It Looks—Backpacking the Canyonlands Maze,” “The Quicksand Chronicles: Backpacking Paria Canyon,” and “Luck of the Draw, Part 2: Backpacking Zion’s Narrows” and my expert e-book “The Complete Guide to Backpacking the Narrows in Zion National Park.”

Explore the best of the Southwest. See “The 15 Best Hikes in Utah’s National Parks
and “The 12 Best Backpacking Trips in the Southwest.”

A hiker at Pitamakan Pass in Glacier National Park.
Todd Arndt at Pitamakan Pass in Glacier National Park.

Glacier National Park

Few wild lands inspire feelings of awe as often and as intensely as Glacier. Besides almost constant views of mountains unlike any in America, on many multi-day hikes in Glacier you will see rivers of ice pouring off of craggy mountains and cliffs, some of the more than 760 lakes, and often mountain goats, bighorn sheep, elk, moose—possibly even a few grizzly and black bears: I’ve seen bears on every backpacking trip I’ve taken there.

Elizabeth Lake in Glacier National Park.
Early morning at Elizabeth Lake in Glacier National Park. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan your Glacier trip.

Those hikes have included what I consider the best backpacking trip in Glacier as well as a 94-mile, north-to-south traverse of the park, combining the primary Continental Divide Trail route through Glacier and my hand-picked variations off it to hit what I believe comprise the park’s finest areas.

See my stories “5 Reasons You Must Backpack in Glacier National Park,” “10 Backpacking Trips for Solitude in Glacier National Park,” “How to Get a Permit to Backpack in Glacier National Park,” “The 8 Best Long Hikes in Glacier National Park,” and all stories about backpacking in Glacier at The Big Outside.

Plan your next great backpacking trip on the Teton Crest Trail, Wonderland Trail,
in Glacier, Yosemite or other parks using my expert e-books.

Colonnade Falls on the Bechler River in Yellowstone National Park.
Colonnade Falls on the Bechler River in Yellowstone National Park.

Yellowstone’s Bechler Canyon

If every American should visit Yellowstone National Park—and every American should—those who long to explore its unique and rich backcountry should embark on the park’s best backpacking trip, through Bechler Canyon. Hiking for miles along the Bechler River Trail, beside a five-star trout stream, you’ll pass several thunderous waterfalls—including 45-foot Iris Falls and Colonnade Falls, where the Bechler River plunges 35 feet over an upper falls and another 67 feet over a second drop.

The trip features bracing river fords—which pose little risk beyond chattering teeth (a friend and I made our trip’s last ford in strong, frigid wind and wet snow falling in late September)—possible sightings of bison, bears and other wildlife; the opportunity to explore Yellowstone’s largest backcountry geyser basin near the shore of one of the park’s biggest backcountry lakes; and the icing on the cake: soaking in a natural hot springs-fed pool called Mr. Bubble.

See my story “In Hot (and Cold) Water: Backpacking Yellowstone’s Bechler Canyon” and all stories about Yellowstone National Park at The Big Outside.

Any trip goes better with the right gear. See “The 10 Best Backpacking Packs
and “The 10 Best Backpacking Tents.”

Backpackers on the Escalante Route in the Grand Canyon.
Mark Fenton and Todd Arndt backpacking the Grand Canyon’s Escalante Route. Click photo for my expert e-book “The Best Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon.”

The Grand Canyon

What can be said about the Grand Canyon that hasn’t already been said a thousand times? What words can measure up to the scale and majesty of this place—its infinite vistas, the deceptive immensity of the canyon walls and stone towers, the intimate side canyons where waterfalls pour through green gardens in the desert?

A backpacker on the Royal Arch Loop in the Grand Canyon.
David Ports backpacking the Royal Arch Loop in the Grand Canyon.

In this landscape of incomparable scenery, multi-day hikes vary from beginner-friendly to notoriously strenuous and challenging. Having ticked off some of the canyon’s best multi-day hikes—South Kaibab to Lipan Point, including the Escalante Route and Beamer Trail, Hermits Rest to Bright Angel Trailhead, Grandview Point to South Kaibab Trailhead, the Thunder River-Deer Creek Loop, the New Hance Trail to Grandview Point, the Royal Arch Loop, the canyon’s Gems Route, and the Utah Flats Route and Clear Creek Trail—and hiked and run rim-to-rim-to-rim multiple times in a day, I’m still scheming my next trip there.

The canyon has no peers. Every backpacker should go there.

See “10 Epic Grand Canyon Backpacking Trips You Must Do,” “5 Reasons You Must Backpack in the Grand Canyon,” “How to Get a Permit to Backpack in the Grand Canyon,” and all stories about Grand Canyon backpacking trips at The Big Outside.

Do your Grand Canyon hike right with these expert e-books:
The Best First Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon
The Best Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon
The Complete Guide to Hiking the Grand Canyon Rim to Rim.”

A hiker above the Middle Fork Salmon River in Idaho's Frank Church-River of No Return Wilderness.
Lisa Fenton hiking the Middle Fork Salmon River Trail, part of the Idaho Wilderness Trail, in Idaho’s Frank Church-River of No Return Wilderness.

The Idaho Wilderness

Anyone following my blog for very long knows my affection for Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains—my backyard wilderness. But central Idaho harbors nearly four million more acres of almost-contiguous wilderness beyond the 217,000 acres in the Sawtooths: the 1.3-million acre Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness, which is larger than many national parks, including Yosemite, Grand Canyon, and Glacier; and the nearly 2.4-million-acre Frank Church-River of No Return Wilderness (“the Frank”), largest in the Lower 48 and bigger than Yellowstone.

If this vast realm of mountains and canyons—divided by just one rural highway and two remote dirt roads—were contained within one national park, it would be America’s third-largest.

Several years ago, I asked the Idaho Conservation League to help me create a long-distance backpacking trail through the state’s three signature wilderness areas. The result is the 296-mile-long Idaho Wilderness Trail, which crosses mountain passes over 9,000 feet and meanders below dramatic spires from the Bighorn Crags in the Frank to the Sawtooths. It follows three designated wild and scenic rivers, the Middle Fork of the Salmon, Main Salmon, and the Selway, and traces the shores of innumerable alpine lakes.

Start planning your next adventure now! See “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips
and “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips.”

 

Morning light at Middle Cramer Lake in Idaho's Sawtooth Mountains.
Morning light at Middle Cramer Lake in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains. Click photo for my e-book “The Best Backpacking Trip in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains.”

It also traverses pristine lands that are home to mountain goats and bighorn sheep, elk and moose, black bears, a population of wolves estimated to be at least seven times larger than that in Yellowstone—and that protect some of the nation’s best remaining habitat in the Lower 48 for restoring wild salmon.

Perhaps most uniquely, the IWT offers the kind of solitude you simply cannot find on most long-distance trails. In fact, many backpackers have never even heard of the wilderness areas the trail traverses.

See my stories “America’s Newest Long Trail: The Idaho Wilderness Trail” and “The Best Hikes and Backpacking Trips in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains,” my expert e-book “The Best Backpacking Trip in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains,” and all stories about backpacking in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains at The Big Outside.

Which puffy should you buy? See “The 12 Best Down Jackets
and “How You Can Tell How Warm a Down Jacket Is.”

A backpacker on the Teton Crest Trail, Death Canyon Shelf, Grand Teton National Park.
David Gordon backpacking the Teton Crest Trail, Death Canyon Shelf, Grand Teton National Park. Click photo for my expert e-book to backpacking the Teton Crest Trail.

The Tetons

A backpacker on the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park.
David Gordon backpacking the Teton Crest Trail in the North Fork Cascade Canyon.

This list would not feel complete without Wyoming’s iconic Teton Range. Fairly beginner-friendly in terms of difficulty and navigation, a place where you may come upon a marmot, moose, elk, or black or grizzly bear, and so constantly picturesque from the campsites to the high passes and vast fields of wildflowers that it almost shocks the senses, these razor peaks never fail to dazzle.

I’ve returned to the Tetons more than 20 times over the past three-plus decades, most recently backpacking—again—my favorite variation of the Teton Crest Trail, universally considered one of the best backpacking trips in America. Two of my all-time favorite backcountry campsites lie along the TCT.

While the Teton Crest Trail captures the imagination of most backpackers, any multi-day hike in the Tetons will rank among the best hikes you’ve ever done. Want proof? Check out “The Best Short Backpacking Trip in Grand Teton National Park.”

See “The 5 Best Backpacking Trips in Grand Teton National Park,” “10 Great, Big Dayhikes in the Tetons,” all stories about backpacking the Teton Crest Trail at The Big Outside, and my expert e-book “The Complete Guide to Backpacking the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park,” which tells you everything you need to know to plan and pull off that trip—including how to get one of the most coveted and difficult-to-reserve backcountry permits in the National Park System.

I’ve helped many readers plan an unforgettable backpacking trip on the Teton Crest Trail.
Want my help with yours? Find out more here.

Ouzel Lake in Wild Basin, Rocky Mountain National Park, Colorado.
Ouzel Lake in Wild Basin, Rocky Mountain National Park, Colorado.

Rocky Mountain National Park

The Colorado Rockies, with 58 peaks that rise higher than 14,000 feet and another whopping 637 that stand between 13,000 and 13,999 feet, have drawn hikers and mountain climbers like mice to peanut butter for decades. But for many, the Colorado Rockies reach their scenic apex in Rocky Mountain National Park.

While not nearly as large as other Western parks like Glacier or Yosemite, Rocky nonetheless offers some excellent and relatively beginner-friendly options for multi-day hikes. I’ve backpacked there on both sides of the Continental Divide, including taking my kids when they were young on a short, three-day hike in Wild Basin, in the park’s southeast corner, south of the park’s tallest and most famous mountain, 14,259-foot Longs Peak.

We camped our first night beside a small creek where the kids played for hours, and our second night a short walk from the shore of lovely Ouzel Lake, nestled in ponderosa pine forest at just over 10,000 feet, below a striking wall of 12,000- and 13,000-foot peaks.

See my story about backpacking with my young kids in Rocky Mountain National Park.

Scroll through the All Trips List for a menu of stories at The Big Outside.

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12 Expert Tips for Staying Warm and Dry Hiking in Rain https://thebigoutsideblog.com/5-tips-for-staying-warm-and-dry-on-the-trail/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/5-tips-for-staying-warm-and-dry-on-the-trail/#comments Sun, 31 Aug 2025 09:05:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=8826 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

There are only three guarantees in life: death, taxes, and at some point, getting rained on when dayhiking or backpacking. As we all know, wet clothing conducts heat away from your body, making you colder. Staying as dry as possible while on the trail or in camp is key to staying warm in the backcountry when the weather turns wet—especially in temperatures below around 60° F and in wind, which swiftly chills your body. This article will help you enjoy a much more comfortable and pleasant backcountry adventure—even when the weather doesn’t cooperate.

Many hikers mistakenly assume that all one needs to do when caught hiking in the rain is don a rain jacket—and sometimes, that is all you have to do. But in mild temperatures, even a high-quality waterproof-breathable shell can cause you to overheat and sweat a lot—especially when walking uphill and carrying a pack—making you wet from the inside rather than the outside. 

The key to staying as warm and dry as possible while hiking is learning the strategies for balancing your body’s heat production with the ambient weather conditions and your clothing layers.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A backpacker hiking above St. Mary Lake on a rainy day in Glacier National Park.
Pam Solon backpacking above St. Mary Lake on a rainy day in Glacier National Park.

I’ve walked through countless downpours and long days of rain over three decades of dayhiking, backpacking, and climbing from the rainforests of the North Cascades and Olympic National Park to the Wind River Range (lead photo at top of story), High SierraWhite Mountains, the Tour du Mont Blanc, Norway, Iceland, New Zealand and many other places—formerly as the Northwest Editor of Backpacker magazine for 10 years and much longer running this blog.

After that many trail miles in miserably wet weather, you either learn some tricks for staying dry or you give this stuff up, and I couldn’t give it up.

The 12 simple tips below will help you stay dry and warm through the wettest adventures. Like many stories at The Big Outside, part of this story is free for anyone to read, but reading all of my tips in this story requires a paid subscription to this blog.

Click on any photo in this story to read about that trip. Please share any tips of your own or your questions in the comments section at the bottom of this story; I try to respond to all comments.

Planning your next big adventure? See “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips
and “Tent Flap With a View: 25 Favorite Backcountry Campsites.”

 

My daughter, Alex, hiking the Alta Via 2 in Parco Naturale Paneveggio Pale di San Martino, Dolomite Mountains, Italy.
My daughter, Alex, in Parco Naturale Paneveggio Pale di San Martino, Dolomite Mountains, Italy.

1. Carry an Umbrella

Seems obvious, doesn’t it? So why don’t more hikers and backpackers carry one when they expect rain (as my daughter is in this photo from Italy’s Dolomite Mountains)?

A lightweight, backcountry umbrella can be very effective at keeping rain off you, as long as it’s not so windy that the umbrella keeps getting inverted or the wind snaps its arms. I recommend the Six Moon Designs Silver Shadow Carbon Trekking Umbrella ($45, 6.8 oz.) or another Six Moon Designs umbrellaSea to Summit Ultra-Sil Trekking Umbrella ($50, 8.5 oz.), and the Gossamer Gear Lightrek Hiking (Chrome) Umbrella ($43, 6.6 oz.). The Six Moon Designs Hands Free Umbrella Kit ($10, 0.35 oz.), allows you to attach an umbrella to a pack’s shoulder strap, keeping both hands free.

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Backpackers on the Wonderland Trail south of Indian Bar, Mount Rainier National Park.
Backpackers hiking through fog and rain showers on the Wonderland Trail around Mount Rainier. Click photo for my e-book to backpacking the Wonderland Trail.

2. Eat and Drink

People hiking in rain commonly just put their head down and keep plodding forward without thinking about hydration and nutrition needs. It’s easy to do: You may not feel hot or thirsty—until a dry mouth and other sensations of thirst hit you, typically long past you becoming dehydrated—and you just want to get where you’re headed. You don’t want to stop in the rain to get food out or treat and refill your water.

But hydration and food provide the fuel critical to the body’s ability to generate energy and heat and for all cells to function normally. Just as when hiking under a hot sun, drink frequently—every 15 minutes or so—and eat something every hour. Keep snacks that are easy to eat on the move in pockets within reach so you don’t have to stop. When hiking in a place with frequent water sources, carry a water filter bottle, like the Katadyn BeFree, that you can simply dip and drink from without having to stop, drop your pack, and pull out a filter to fill a bladder or bottle; see the water filters I recommend in this review.

I can help you plan the best backpacking, hiking, or family adventure of your life.
Click here now to learn more.

A trekker hiking through rain showers on the Tour du Mont Blanc in Switzerland.
My daughter, Alex, hiking through rain showers on the Tour du Mont Blanc in Switzerland. Click photo for my e-book “The Perfect Plan for Hiking the Tour du Mont Blanc.”

3. Ventilate Your Jacket

Waterproof-breathable rain jackets have a membrane or coating that enables some moisture on the inside to pass through to the outside, while preventing rain from penetrating inside. But most are better at keeping rain out than releasing moisture and heat from your body that builds up inside. That’s why, when hiking in rain and warm temperatures, we can overheat and get very wet from perspiration.

Some rain jackets made for hiking have zippers under the arms that allow ventilating; open them when needed and unzip the front of the jacket partly to release heat and moisture. Dropping your hood at times, even briefly during pauses or light moments in the rain, will help you cool off.

Plan your next great backpacking trip in Yosemite, Grand Teton,
and other parks using my expert e-books.

Backpacking in rain in Wyoming's Wind River Range.
Todd Arndt backpacking in rain in Wyoming’s Wind River Range.

4. Don’t Wear Pants

Rain pants, that is. I rarely carry rain pants backpacking, especially when the forecast calls for mild temps and little or no chance of rain. In moderate rain and warm temps, just wear quick-drying soft-shell or nylon shorts with either high or low gaiters to help keep your feet dry. (Low gaiters I like: the Kahtoola Renagaiter Mid and Low.) In cooler temps and steady rain, wear soft-shell pants (I like the Outdoor Research Ferrosi Convertible Pants)—which will eventually get wet in a hard rain, but trap heat reasonably well, keep you warm enough in mild temps, and dry quickly on your body once the rain abates.

5. … Unless You Need Pants

By the afternoon of our second straight day of steady rain and cool wind on a September backpacking trip in the rugged Bailey Range in the Olympic Mountains, my soft-shell pants had become steadily soaked and the wind was blowing hard. I realized I had slowly become hypothermic—it can come on that slowly. Only by continuing to hike at a rigorous pace did I finally warm back up again over the next hour.

In cool temps, steady wind, and persistent rain, hiking in shorts or soft-shell pants will not keep you adequately warm and dry— you need shell layers top and bottom. Have waterproof-breathable rain pants, like to can pull on over whatever bottoms you’re wearing, like the Outdoor Research Helium Rain Pant or Black Diamond Fineline Stretch Full Zip Pants.

When wearing rain pants with gaiters, layer the pant cuffs over the gaiters, rather than tucking pant legs inside the gaiters, so water drains over rather than inside the gaiters.

Read all of this story and ALL stories at The Big Outside,
plus get a FREE e-book! Join now!

A hiker on day one trekking Iceland's Laugavegur Trail from Landmannalaugar to Hrafntinnusker.
My wife, Penny, on our soggy first day trekking Iceland’s Laugavegur Trail from Landmannalaugar to Hrafntinnusker.

6. Slow Down or Speed Up

Use your pace, or exertion level, to stay warm without overheating. If you’re sweating under a rain jacket on a long uphill climb, but the rain is too heavy to take off your jacket, slow down until your body’s producing enough heat to remain comfortable but reduce how much you’re perspiring; you may even actually dry out the jacket on the inside, which feels more comfortable than when it’s clammy.

Similarly, 20 or 30 minutes before reaching camp, slow your pace to where you’re warm but not perspiring. This can dry out your base layer and the inside of your jacket—and you’ll be more much comfortable and happy putting on your hiking layers the next morning if they’re dry.

Are these tips helpful? See also “7 Pro Tips For Keeping Your Backpacking Gear Dry
and “How to Prevent Hypothermia While Hiking and Backpacking.”

12. Wet Bag, Way Bad

When you expect rain on a backpacking trip, keep your sleeping bag dry by either lining its stuff sack with a plastic trash bag or using a waterproof, dry bag-style stuff sack with a roll-top closure; the one I used most is the Sea to Summit Evac Compression Dry Bag UL. On an August 2023 backpacking trip in the Wind River Range, an afternoon thunderstorm with torrential rain soaked through my backpack. That dry bag sat in water pooled at the bottom of my pack for an hour before I unloaded the pack in camp—and my sleeping bag was perfectly dry.

Whether you’re a beginner or seasoned backpacker, you’ll learn new tricks for making all of your trips go better in my “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” A Practical Guide to Lightweight and Ultralight Backpacking,” and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.” With a paid subscription to The Big Outside, you can read all of those three stories for free; if you don’t have a subscription, you can download the e-book versions of “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” the lightweight and ultralight backpacking guide, and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”

Let The Big Outside help you find the best adventures.
Join now for full access to ALL stories and get a free e-book!

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7 Pro Tips For Keeping Your Backpacking Gear Dry https://thebigoutsideblog.com/7-pro-tips-for-keeping-your-backpacking-gear-dry/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/7-pro-tips-for-keeping-your-backpacking-gear-dry/#comments Sat, 30 Aug 2025 09:01:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=24531 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

From the rainforests of the North Cascades and Olympic National Park to powerful thunderstorms in the High Sierra and Wind River Range and steady New England rain, from the Tour du Mont Blanc to Iceland’s Laugavegur Trail to New Zealand (lead photo, above) and many more places, I’ve carried a backpack through many fierce downpours and endless showers. I’ve tried virtually every strategy imaginable to keep my clothing and gear inside my pack dry—some which have failed spectacularly, and some which have worked flawlessly, no matter how wet I got. In this story, I share my seven top tricks for how I keep the rain from getting anywhere near my dry clothes, sleeping bag, and other contents of my pack.

I’ve learned the tricks described below over nearly four decades of backpacking all over the U.S. and around the world—formerly as the Northwest Editor of Backpacker magazine for 10 years and even longer running this blog. The seven simple tips in this article will help you keep your gear dry through the wettest adventures.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


See also my ”10 Expert Tips for Staying Warm and Dry Hiking in Rain” and ”How to Prevent Hypothermia While Hiking and Backpacking” and all stories with expert backpacking tips at The Big Outside.

Like many stories at The Big Outside, part of this story is free for anyone to read, but reading all of my tips in this story requires a paid subscription to this blog.

Click on any photo to read about that trip. Please share any tips of your own or your questions in the comments section at the bottom of this story; I try to respond to all comments.

A trekker on the Tour du Mont Blanc in Italy.
Fiona Wilhelm trekking the Tour du Mont Blanc in Italy.

#1 Pack Your Gear in Waterproof Stuff Sacks or Dry Bags

Most backpacks, of course, are not waterproof because of the added expense but also because making them waterproof restricts other design options and often makes them heavier. For most backpacking trips, I prefer using waterproof or water-resistant stuff sacks instead of a rain cover because I use stuff sacks for my sleeping bag and clothing, anyway, so I’m not adding a new item to my load. Plus, a rain cover makes accessing your pack less convenient and can get blown off in strong winds.

On a recent August backpacking trip in the Wind River Range, Sea to Summit’s 3L Ultra-Sil Dry Bag kept my puffy jacket dry, and the brand’s Evac Ultralight Compression Dry Bag UL kept my sleeping bag dry through an afternoon thunderstorm and a torrential downpour that soaked through my backpack—even leaving a small puddle of water in the bottom of the pack. Those two sacks saved me from a cold, wet, miserable night. See my favorite stuff sacks in this review of favorite backpacking accessories.

Todd Arndt backpacking in North Cascades National Park.

A pack liner serves the same purpose and can act as a first layer of defense, along with stuff sacks, for very wet trips. The 43-liter Hyperlite Mountain Gear Roll-Top stuff sack has kept my pack contents completely dry through steady, wind-driven rain on the Tour du Mont Blanc, the Laugavegur Trail, and elsewhere. Made with waterproof, very tough and lightweight DCF11 fabric, it’s large enough to fill most of a midsize pack as a liner, holding your bag, tent, extra clothes, etc., while leaving space above it in your pack for items you want to access during the day.

The more affordable Six Moon Designs Pack Liner has also kept my gear and clothes dry when rain pounded my pack. A roll-top, 50-liter sack that’s treated to repel water, it’s made of 40-denier ripstop nylon with taped seams.

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A trekker hiking above Lake Harris toward Harris Saddle on the Routeburn Track, South Island, New Zealand.
My wife, Penny, hiking above Lake Harris toward Harris Saddle on the Routeburn Track, South Island, New Zealand. The lead photo at the top of this story is from New Zealand’s Dusky Track.

Zip-lock storage bags are a cheap alternative to waterproof stuff sacks, and generally reliable; plus their contents are easily identifiable through the clear plastic material. But they are obviously not as tearproof or durable as stuff sacks, and their seal can pop open. Avoid overstuffing them, which also makes it easier to pack multiple bags together without having pockets of unused space between them.

A thick plastic trash bag works as a cheap liner (cut it down to fit in your pack); but I find the thin bag fabric gets in the way when I’m digging into my pack, and black trash bags make the pack’s contents hard to see. Trash compactor bags are white and tougher.

Plan your next great backpacking adventure using my expert e-books.
Click here now to learn more.

David Ports and Jeff Wilhelm backpacking in the northern Bailey Range, Olympic National Park.
David Ports and Jeff Wilhelm backpacking in the northern Bailey Range, Olympic National Park.

#2 Use a Custom Rain Cover

I’ve used all kinds of rain covers on a pack many times, but I rarely do anymore because of their shortcomings—although I make one exception to that rule.

I use a rain cover that comes with a pack because those are made specifically to fit it and are more likely to stay on even in strong wind (if they have an elasticized perimeter, as most do).

Granted, those are inconvenient in that you must remove it every time you want something inside the pack, and doing so exposes pack contents to rain (whereas waterproof or water-resistant stuff sacks protect contents when you open the pack, and they don’t present an obstacle to retrieving anything from inside the pack).

Lightweight rain covers can also eventually soak through in a sustained or heavy rainfall.

That said, a pack with a custom or integrated rain cover does provide an extra layer of protection—at no added expense.

But I still want to have waterproof or water-resistant stuff sacks or a pack liner.

Read all of this story and ALL stories at The Big Outside,
plus get a FREE e-book! Join now!

Backpacking in the rain, under a rainbow, in Wyoming's Wind River Range.
Mark Fenton backpacking in the rain in Wyoming’s Wind River Range.

#3 Minimize How Much You Open Your Pack

Pack contents are most exposed to getting wet when you open the pack—so take steps to greatly minimize how often you do that, and try to do it only during breaks in the rain or in spots protected from the rain, like under a tree or rock overhang. Keep snacks within reach in your pack’s side or hipbelt pockets. Preload enough water in bottles—and especially a bladder, because it loads inside most packs—to minimize the number of times you have to stop and refill.

Packs with a panel or side zipper accessing the main compartment, or external pockets large enough for items you want during the day, like a water filter or shell jacket, let you avoid exposing the top of the pack to direct rain. When loading your pack in the morning, if you expect rain, keep items you’ll want on the trail accessible.

I can help you plan the best backpacking, hiking, or family adventure of your life.
Find out more here.

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How to Prevent Hypothermia While Hiking and Backpacking https://thebigoutsideblog.com/how-to-prevent-hypothermia-while-hiking-and-backpacking/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/how-to-prevent-hypothermia-while-hiking-and-backpacking/#comments Sat, 30 Aug 2025 09:00:49 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=29263 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Rain and wind battered two friends and I as we hiked across exposed meadows high in the Olympic Mountains—our second straight day of heavy rain. Dripping, knee-high vegetation ladled cups of water onto our pants and boots. My rain jacket kept my upper body dry, but my soft-shell pants eventually soaked through. That, and the wind, slowly made me steadily colder—more than I realized.

After a strenuous ascent of a steep mountainside, carrying a heavy pack with my jacket hood up—which should have made me quite warm—it occurred to me: I’m still cold.

I was hypothermic.

What’s more, we had all—ironically, given the rain—run out of water more than an hour earlier. We undoubtedly hadn’t eaten enough to replace the calories burned through a full day of hard hiking in cold wind and rain. Now, as the rain continued pounding us, night approached and we were nowhere near a water source or flat ground for camping.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


Backpackers hiking in rain in the Bailey Range, Olympic National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm (behind) and me hiking in rain in the Bailey Range, Olympic National Park.

We understood that our situation was serious. We calmly discussed our priorities. First and foremost, we needed a spot to pitch our tents—under the circumstances, shelter was more important than water, because we knew we could survive a night without water and that we’d find some in the morning, and we had plenty of food. But a night without shelter in those conditions posed far greater risks.

We backtracked to a flat area we had recalled passing about an hour earlier. The rain stopped before we set up camp, and we spent the night dry and warm in our tents. Clear skies greeted us the next morning. Two hours after leaving that camp, we reached a creek and drank copiously. We had gone about 20 hours without water, but hadn’t felt any serious effects from dehydration. Prioritizing shelter and warmth had been the right call. And I was amazed at how juicy dried mangoes taste when you have a raging thirst.

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Hikers on Besseggen Ridge in Norway's Jotunheimen National Park.
Jasmine and Jeff Wilhelm hiking Besseggen Ridge in Norway’s Jotunheimen National Park.

If you’ve spent much time outside in wet, cool, or cold weather—as I have over four decades (and counting) and thousands of miles of backpacking, including the 10 years I spent as Northwest Editor of Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog—you’ve probably been at least mildly hypothermic. Most likely, it wasn’t serious and you easily remedied the situation with clothing, food, or shelter, by descending out of the wind, or some combination of those typical strategies.

But hypothermia isn’t like an ankle sprain, occurring suddenly and broadcasting its symptoms clearly. And it isn’t like hunger, always remedied with a quick fix.

It can happen quickly, or it can sneak up on you slowly. It may happen even when you believe you’re dressed well, because you didn’t initially feel cold. While it’s an obvious threat in the dead of frigid winter, it happens perhaps more often on cool, windy days in spring and fall, and certainly can happen in the mountains in summer.

Hypothermia can present a minor obstacle if recognized and addressed soon, or escalate into an emergency and even prove fatal.

Plus, as those two friends and I discovered that day in the Olympics, hypothermia can happen to anyone—even very experienced backpackers (and two of us were experienced climbers) who’ve endured severe weather numerous times.

In this article, I’ll explain what hypothermia is and how it happens, and offer expert tips and skills on how to avoid hypothermia and treat it when it happens to you or a companion, drawn from my decades of wandering through the backcountry in all kinds of weather, all over the U.S. and the world (and shivering more times than I could estimate).

And like many stories at The Big Outside, part of this story is free for anyone to read, but reading all of my tips in this story requires a paid subscription.

Trust me when I say this: Someday, you will use these tips.

Please share your own tips, questions, or thoughts in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments. Click on any photo to read about that trip.

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A backpacker at 12,240-foot Knapsack Col, Wind River Range, Wyoming.
Mark Fenton at 12,240-foot Knapsack Col, Wind River Range, Wyoming.

What’s Hypothermia?

Hypothermia is defined as a core body temperature of 95° F/35° C or lower, which is about three degrees Fahrenheit below the average normal body temp of 98.2° F/36.8° C (although “normal” can vary from 97° to 99° F between individuals). Hypothermia occurs when someone is losing body heat faster than they can produce it, causing the body’s core temperature to drop.

While it’s hard to find statistics on how many hikers die from hypothermia, according to the Centers for Disease Control, an average of 1,300 Americans die from hypothermia every year. While most of those victims are undoubtedly nowhere near the backcountry, according to the National Park Service (reported in this Washington Post story), “cold exposure” accounted for about 25 deaths in all national parks between 2003 and 2007. That’s actually far fewer than deaths from falls (about 175), vehicle accidents (over 250), and drownings (over 350).

Still, hypothermia poses a significant risk to backpackers, dayhikers, climbers, and others in the backcountry. Preventing it begins with knowing how to recognize it.

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Mountain Lakes of the High Sierra—A Photo Gallery https://thebigoutsideblog.com/mountain-lakes-of-the-high-sierra-a-photo-gallery/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/mountain-lakes-of-the-high-sierra-a-photo-gallery/#comments Sun, 17 Aug 2025 09:07:45 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=54549 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

It seems a fool’s wager to guess how many mountain lakes exist in the High Sierra, the range that reaches heights over 14,000 feet and spans some 200 miles through eastern California from Lake Tahoe to south of Sequoia National Park, including Yosemite and Kings Canyon national parks and several national forest wilderness areas. Some estimates place the number of named glacial lakes at around a thousand—but that omits the constellation of lakes and tarns identified by their elevation only or that remain completely anonymous. It’s a safe bet the total reaches into the many thousands.

Backpack virtually anywhere in the High Sierra—which comprises one of the largest contiguous blocks of wilderness in the Lower 48—and you’re bound to pass by countless shimmering, watery gems and pitch a tent near some of the prettiest you’ve ever seen. This story shares images of many of the finest I’ve seen on numerous backpacking trips all over the High Sierra, in all of the parks, the major wilderness areas, and on the John Muir Trail over the past three-plus decades, including the 10 years I spent as Northwest Editor of Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


Backpackers hiking the John Muir Trail past Evolution Lake in Kings Canyon National Park.
David Ports and Marco Garofalo backpacking the John Muir Trail past Evolution Lake in Kings Canyon National Park. Click photo to read more about the JMT.

I’m a big fan of other American mountain ranges that are speckled with beautiful lakes, such as the Wind River Range, the Tetons, the Cascades (especially the North Cascades), and Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains. See my stories “Tent Flap With a View: 25 Favorite Backcountry Campsites” and “Photo Gallery: 41 Gorgeous Backcountry Lakes.”

Still, almost none compare with the High Sierra for sheer numbers of freshwater bodies or the splendor of the “Range of Light.”

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A backpacker hiking above Columbine Lake in Sequoia National Park.
My wife, Penny, backpacking above Columbine Lake in Sequoia National Park.

The High Sierra national parks and forests all begin accepting reservations for wilderness permits months ahead of a trip starting date—including for the John Muir Trail—and competition is fierce for popular areas and trails. But some also set aside a percentage of permits for release a week or two ahead of a trip starting date. See my stories “How to Get a Yosemite or High Sierra Wilderness Permit” and “How to Get a Last-Minute Yosemite Wilderness Permit Now.”

The photo gallery below includes some well-known lakes and others that are remote and obscure; you may have never heard of some of them. All are only reached by hiking or riding a horse for miles into the wilderness. Click on the gallery to open it and use right and left arrow keys to scroll through it. Scroll past the gallery for links to stories about the High Sierra at The Big Outside.

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See all stories at The Big Outside about backpacking in the High Sierra, Yosemite, Sequoia, and Kings Canyon national parks, in the John Muir and Ansel Adams wildernesses, and on the John Muir Trail. Most of those stories require a paid subscription to The Big Outside to read in full, including my expert tips and information on planning each hike. See also my expert e-books to multi-day hikes in Yosemite and other parks.

I’ve helped many readers plan an unforgettable backpacking trip in the High Sierra, including the John Muir Trail, Yosemite, Sequoia, and Kings Canyon national parks and the national forest wilderness areas. Want my help with yours? See my Custom Trip Planning page to learn more.

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10 Pro Tips For Staying Warm in a Sleeping Bag https://thebigoutsideblog.com/10-pro-tips-staying-warm-in-a-sleeping-bag/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/10-pro-tips-staying-warm-in-a-sleeping-bag/#comments Tue, 12 Aug 2025 09:00:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=9800 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Head into the mountains in summer, or almost anywhere in fall or spring, and you can encounter nighttime and morning temperatures anywhere from the 40s Fahrenheit to well below freezing. That’s more than cold enough to pose a real risk of hypothermia or, at the least, result in a miserable night for you or a partner or child you’ve taken backpacking or camping—and would like to take more. Here’s the good news: The very simple techniques outlined in this article can turn a potentially unpleasant night into a comfortable one.

Countless frosty nights sleeping outside over the past three-plus decades—including the 10 years I spent as a field editor for Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog—have taught me a few things about how to stay warm. (My coldest night was -30° F/-34° C, in winter in New Hampshire’s White Mountains. I don’t recommend it.)


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


No matter how easily you get cold when sleeping outside, or whether you’re camping in the backcountry or at a campground, these 10 tips will keep you warmer on cool and chilly nights in your sleeping bag.

Tell me what you think of my tips, ask any questions, or share your own tips in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

Feathered Friends Hummingbird UL 30.
The ultralight but very warm Feathered Friends Hummingbird UL 30. Click on the photo to read my review.

1. Clean Up

At the end of each hiking day, wash the dirt and dried sweat from your body; the latter can act like a heat conductor, chilling you, and getting a bit cleaner will just make you feel better. Swim in a lake, wade into creek and splash water all over yourself, or at least wet a bandanna or other cloth (or use wet wipes or other such products) and wipe yourself off.

2. Change Into Dry Clothes

Damp clothes promote conductive heat loss from the body. Change into dry clothing to sleep, as opposed to the clothes you sweated in while hiking.

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Sea to Summit Spark Pro -9C/15F ultralight sleeping bag.
The Sea to Summit Spark Pro -9C/15F ultralight sleeping bag. Click photo to read my review.

3. Dress Smartly

Inside your bag, wear a hat, socks, and extra layers on your body, but avoid putting on so many layers that you isolate your core, which is your body’s furnace, from your extremities, which get cold more easily. It’s often more effective to wear just one or two light to midweight base layersthat are highly breathable, so as to allow your core’s heat to disperse throughout the bag. If you need more warmth, lay an insulation piece over your torso and hips inside the bag, essentially boosting the bag’s insulation, and stuff other extra clothing around you or at the foot of your bag to provide added insulation for your entire body.

Planning your next big adventure? See “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips
and “Tent Flap With a View: 25 Favorite Backcountry Campsites.”

The Mountain Hardwear Phantom 30 sleeping bag.
The Mountain Hardwear Phantom 30 sleeping bag. Click photo to read my review.

4. Use a Hot-Water Bottle

Stick a water bottle filled with hot water in the foot of your bag; water that’s heated up is hot enough, boiling water may feel too hot directly against bare skin. If one bottle at your feet isn’t enough, put a second bottle filled with hot water in the middle of your bag. Make sure they’re sealed tightly and that you’re using a sturdy, plastic bottle that’s designed to hold hot liquids, like a Nalgene bottle; a cheap plastic bottle (like an empty soda bottle) could split open, a potentially very dangerous situation. An insulated or vacuum bottle would not release any heat, negating any benefit.

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Therm-a-Rest Hyperion 32F/0C sleeping bag.
The one-pound Therm-a-Rest Hyperion 32F/0C sleeping bag. Click on photo to read my review.

5. Sleep on Insulation

Use an insulated pad or air mattress rated for the lowest temperatures you expect to encounter. Mats and pads with an R-value of between 3 and 4 are intended for three-season temperatures—generally, above freezing—while those with an R-value of over 5 are intended for use on frozen ground in below-freezing temperatures. If needed, add a second foam pad under your primary air mat if you’re sleeping atop frozen ground or snow.


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6. Augment Your Sleeping Pad

If you’re using a short air mattress or foam pad (to save weight in milder temperatures), lay your empty pack beneath your feet to insulate them from the ground, which can drain heat from your body even in summer. Or bring a short foam pad to provide more padding and insulation under a full-length air mat.

Plan your next great backpacking trip in Yosemite, Grand Teton,
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The Marmot Hydrogen 30 in southern Utah's Owl Canyon.
Testing the Marmot Hydrogen 30 in southern Utah’s Owl Canyon.

7. Pile Extra Clothing Underfoot

Your feet get cold more easily than other body parts because they lie the farthest from your heart and, inside a sleeping bag, are not close to your furnace: your body’s core. They can also get cold because the ground under your sleeping pad is cold. Pile extra clothing under the foot end of your bag to give your feet more insulation against the cold ground.

Never get cold again (well, almost never).
See my “5 Tips For Staying Warm and Dry While Hiking.”

The Mountain Hardwear Bishop Pass 30 in Yosemite.
The Mountain Hardwear Bishop Pass 30 in Yosemite. Click photo to read my review.

8. Use a Bag Liner

Use a sleeping bag liner, which can add the equivalent of several degrees of warmth rating to a bag.

9. Eat Fat and Sugar (The Fun Tip)

Eat a snack high in fat right before bed, like a candy bar, and have a hot drink with sugar in it, like hot cocoa. Both will fuel your body’s furnace through the night.

10. Use Your Partner

If you’re sharing a tent with a partner who doesn’t get cold as easily as you, ask that person to sleep on the tent’s windward side. If you have two warm-sleeping partners, sleep between them, or at least position your bags and pads close together to benefit from one another’s body heat. Or maybe best of all, zip your bags together and directly share body heat.

See my “Pro Tips For Buying Sleeping Bags” and all of my reviews of sleeping bags, air mats, and backpacking gear at The Big Outside.

Whether you’re a beginner or seasoned backpacker, you’ll learn new tricks for making all of your trips go better in my stories “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” A Practical Guide to Lightweight and Ultralight Backpacking,” and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.” With a paid subscription to The Big Outside, you can read all of those three stories for free; if you don’t have a subscription, you can download the e-book versions of “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” the lightweight and ultralight backpacking guide, and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”

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Trekking Iceland’s Laugavegur and Fimmvörðuháls Trails—A Photo Gallery https://thebigoutsideblog.com/trekking-icelands-laugavegur-and-fimmvorduhals-trails-a-photo-gallery/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/trekking-icelands-laugavegur-and-fimmvorduhals-trails-a-photo-gallery/#comments Sun, 10 Aug 2025 09:05:54 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=54617 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

We followed the trail upward through innumerable, short switchbacks to the summit of a battleship-gray, treeless, steep-sided peak called Bláhnúkur in the remote Fjallabak Nature Reserve of Iceland’s Central Highlands, one of the most active geothermal areas on Earth. At the summit, we turned a slow 360, gaping at a mind-boggling, kaleidoscopic landscape painted in more colors than there likely were species of plant life—none of it more than knee-high—on the volcanic slopes surrounding us. An old, hardened lava flow poured down one mountainside in a jumbled train wreck of razor-sharp black rhyolite. Barren peaks and ridges wearing the white splotches of July snowfields reached to every horizon.

My family spent six days trekking hut to hut on the roughly 54-kilometer/33-mile Laugavegur Trail followed immediately by the 25-kilometer/15.5-mile Fimmvörðuháls Trail—a trip I’d wanted to take with my family since I first set foot in that place on another raw, windy, and wet July day 16 years earlier.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A trekker on the Fimmvorduhals Trail south of Thorsmork, Iceland.
My daughter, Alex, hiking the Fimmvorduhals Trail south of Thorsmork, Iceland. Click photo for my e-book to the Laugavegur and Fimmvorduhals trails.

It has been my considerable good fortune to have hiked many of America’s and the world’s great trails over the past three-plus decades, including the 10 years I spent as Northwest Editor of Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog.

But very few, if any, compare with the world-famous Laugavegur and Fimmvörðuháls trails—where every day presents new and different, jaw-dropping vistas. We walked across highlands littered with steaming hot springs and fumaroles and down river valleys between small, starkly barren peaks, some of them vividly green despite their lack of vegetation more than calf-high. We traversed a high plateau carpeted with snow and nearly barren valleys choked with twisted boulders of black lava rock. We hiked, stunned at every turn, downstream along a river with more thunderous waterfalls than I have ever seen in one day in my life.

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Alftavatn Lake. along the Laugavegur Trail. Iceland.
Alftavatn Lake. along the Laugavegur Trail. Iceland.

But I will let the photos in this story speak to the scenery on these two trails.

The photo gallery below includes some favorite images from the Laugavegur and Fimmvörðuháls trails. Click on the gallery to open it and use right and left arrow keys to scroll through it.

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Read my blog story about my family’s hut trek on these two trails, “A Family Hikes Iceland’s Laugavegur and Fimmvörðuháls Trails,” which has dozens of photos and is partially free for anyone to read but requires a paid subscription to read in full. Scroll past the gallery for links to more stories about international adventures.

My expert e-book “The Complete Guide to Trekking Iceland’s Laugavegur and Fimmvörðuháls Trails” will tell you all you need to know to plan this trip yourself.

Click here now to get more than 20% off on my expert e-books to three great world treks:
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See also “9 Great Hikes and Walks Along Iceland’s Ring Road,” my story about my first trip to Iceland, “15 Adventures on Earth That Will Change Your Life,” “My Top 10 Adventure Trips,” “The 10 Best Family Outdoor Adventure Trips,” and all stories about international adventures at The Big Outside.

I’ve helped many readers plan an unforgettable hiking and backpacking adventures. Want my help with yours? See my Custom Trip Planning page to learn more.

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15 Awesome Fall Backpacking Trips https://thebigoutsideblog.com/10-awesome-fall-backpacking-trips/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/10-awesome-fall-backpacking-trips/#comments Mon, 04 Aug 2025 09:00:03 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=20463 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

The imminent end of summer always feels a little melancholy. After all, it marks the close of the prime season for getting into the mountains. But it also signals the beginning of a time of year when many mountain ranges become less crowded just as they’re hitting a sweet zone in terms of temperatures, the lack of bugs, and foliage color. Autumn also stands out as an ideal season for many Southwest hikes, with moderate temperatures and even some stunning color.

From Yosemite to Yellowstone, Grand Canyon to Grand Teton, the Great Smokies to the White Mountains and hikes that may not be on your radar, like the North Cascades (lead photo, above), Ruby Crest Trail, and several great ones in the Southwest, this story describes 15 backpacking trips that hit a nice season or their prime season sometime between mid-September through November—all of them standouts among the innumerable trips I’ve taken over the past three-plus decades, including the 10 years I spent as Northwest Editor at Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


Backpackers hiking in lower Owl Canyon, Bears Ears National Monument, Utah.
Backpacking in lower Owl Canyon, Bears Ears National Monument, Utah.

Click on links below to read the feature-length stories about these trips, which contain numerous photos. While much of those individual stories is free for anyone to read, reading them in full, including my tips on planning those trips, is an exclusive benefit for readers with a paid subscription to The Big Outside. See also my expert e-books to several classic backpacking trips and my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you plan any of these adventures or any trip you read about at The Big Outside.

Don’t stay home and lament the end of summer—get out and make the most of autumn, an ideal time of year in the backcountry.

Please share your questions or suggestions for fall backpacking trips in the comments section at the bottom. I try to respond to all comments. Click any photo to read about that trip.

Backpackers in Aravaipa Canyon, Arizona.
Backpackers in Aravaipa Canyon, Arizona.

Aravaipa Canyon Wilderness

“Ara-what?” Yea, that was my reaction when I first heard about this place from a friend—whose tip I wisely followed. (Thanks, John.) Five of us backpacked into Aravaipa for three days, dayhiking from a base camp to explore this lushly green, 12-mile-long defile between redrock walls that reach up to 600 feet tall.

Backpackers in Aravaipa Canyon, Arizona.
Backpacking out to the West Trailhead on our last day in Aravaipa Canyon.

Although tiny compared to many more-famous public lands, the 19,410-acre Aravaipa Canyon Wilderness, in southeast Arizona, stands out as an anomalous Southwest oasis in the hyper-arid Sonoran Desert. Aravaipa Creek flows strongly year-round, nurturing tall cottonwood, sycamore, ash, and willow trees in the canyon bottom, while saguaro cacti grow in giant armies on the rims overhead. With easy, nearly flat hiking often in the shallow river, no water scarcity typical of Southwest desert backpacking trips, abundant shade, the low elevation and southern Arizona climate, Aravaipa offers a relatively casual and beautiful adventure in spring and fall—but fall paints the canyon in brilliant hues of red and gold.

See my story “Backpacking the Desert Oasis of Aravaipa Canyon.”

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A backpacker hiking past Minaret Lake in the Ansel Adams Wilderness, High Sierra.
Marco Garofalo hiking past Minaret Lake in the Ansel Adams Wilderness, High Sierra.

The High Sierra

Like Yosemite (below), demand for wilderness permits throughout the High Sierra, especially in Sequoia-Kings Canyon national parks and the John Muir and Ansel Adams wildernesses, grows fierce during the summer. But most backpackers fail to realize that the real peak season for exploring the incomparable High Sierra begins in late August—when the wilting afternoon heat and ravenous mosquitoes of early to mid-summer start to abate—and often continues through September and into October.

Sunrise reflection in a tarn above Helen Lake, John Muir Trail, Kings Canyon National Park, High Sierra, California.
Sunrise reflection in a tarn above Helen Lake on the John Muir Trail in Kings Canyon National Park.

And the options are virtually unlimited in this contiguous wilderness spreading over nearly three million acres—an ocean of jagged peaks rising as high as 14,000 feet and a constellation of shimmering alpine lakes—from weekend trips to a week or longer, including five-star section hikes of the John Muir Trail and Pacific Crest Trail or variations off them into less-well-known corners of the Sierra. After backpacking many hundreds of miles throughout the Sierra over more than three decades, I have yet to run out of great hikes to do there.

See all stories about High Sierra backpacking trips at The Big Outside, including “How to Get a Yosemite or High Sierra Wilderness Permit,” “Backpacking the John Muir and Ansel Adams Wildernesses,” “10 Great John Muir Trail Section Hikes,” and “Thru-Hiking the John Muir Trail: What You Need to Know.”

Plan your next great backpacking trip in Yosemite, Grand Teton,
and other parks using my expert e-books.

A backpacker near Park Creek Pass in North Cascades National Park.
Todd Arndt backpacking to Park Creek Pass in North Cascades National Park.

North Cascades National Park

Larch trees reflected in Rainbow Lake, in Washington's North Cascades.
Larch trees reflected in Rainbow Lake, in Washington’s North Cascades.

In the last week of September, with huckleberries ripe and tasty and the larch trees blazing yellow with fall color (lead photo at top of story), a friend and I took an 80-mile hike through the heart of the North Cascades National Park Complex, a sprawling swath of heavily glaciated mountains and thickly forested valleys. Our grand tour from Easy Pass Trailhead to Bridge Creek Trailhead took us through virgin forests of giant cedars, hemlocks, and Douglas firs, and over four passes, including Park Creek Pass, where waterfalls and glaciers pour off cliffs and jagged, snowy peaks.

We enjoyed five sunny, glorious early-fall days; but of course, snow can fall in these mountains in September, so watch the forecast. North Cascades has long been one of my favorite parks (it has one of the most inspiring backcountry campsites I’ve ever slept in). But not many backpackers know this place: It’s one of America’s least-visited national parks. That’s good if you like to have a beautiful wild place to yourself.

See my story “Primal Wild: Backpacking 80 Miles Through the North Cascades,” which has my tips on how to plan and take this trip, including shorter variations of the 80-mile route, and all stories about North Cascades National Park at The Big Outside.

I can help you plan a backpacking trip of almost any length in the North Cascades. See my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how.

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Backpackers hiking below Nevills Arch in lower Owl Canyon, Bears Ears National Monument, Utah.
Mark and Pam Solon backpacking below Nevills Arch in lower Owl Canyon, Bears Ears National Monument, Utah.

Owl and Fish Canyons

Like other Southwest canyon country backpacking trips, the approximately 17-mile loop through Owl and Fish Canyons in southeastern Utah’s Bears Ears National Monument features tall, red cliffs, towers, and natural arches (Nevills Arch spans 140 feet); walking up or down rippled slickrock slabs; plus flowering cacti and other prickly desert flora in spring and the greenery of cottonwoods.

A backpacker hiking in upper Fish Canyon, Bears Ears National Monument, Utah.
My wife, Penny, backpacking in upper Fish Canyon, Bears Ears National Monument, Utah.

Unlike other multi-day hikes in the Southwest, Owl and Fish have a surprising abundance of seasonal, clear water, creating an unexpected desert oasis—and enabling backpackers to avoid carrying an onerous burden of extra water. The hike also involves quite rugged terrain in parts of both canyons—scrambling, steep sections of loose rocks, and a bit of exposure. Hiking in one of the least-populated parts of the country, you might see the darkest night skies of your life: Sleeping out without tents, friends and I awakened after moonset to a Milky Way glowing with a rare luminescence against a coal-black sky riddled with stars.

See my story “Backpacking Southern Utah’s Owl and Fish Canyons” and all stories about Southwest backpacking trips at The Big Outside.

Explore the best of the Southwest. See “The 15 Best Hikes in Utah’s National Parks
and “The 12 Best Backpacking Trips in the Southwest.”

A backpacker above Overland Lake on the Ruby Crest Trail, Ruby Mountains, Nevada.
My son, Nate, backpacking above Overland Lake on the Ruby Crest Trail in northern Nevada’s Ruby Mountains.

Ruby Crest Trail

Maybe like me, you’ve had Nevada’s Ruby Crest Trail in your sights for several years. When I finally made it there, I wondered why I’d waited so long.

Morning light on Overland Lake on the Ruby Crest Trail.
Morning light on Overland Lake on the Ruby Crest Trail.

The four-day, approximately 36-mile traverse of the Ruby Crest Trail goes from a high-desert landscape speckled with granite monoliths to aspen and conifer forests and alpine terrain high above treeline, with constant views of the craggy Ruby Mountains. We passed some stunning mountain lakes—one of which ranks among the prettiest backcountry lakes and best backcountry campsites I’ve had the pleasure to enjoy.

While my family backpacked the Ruby Crest Trail in mid-July, when wildflowers bloom and moderate temperatures prevail, late summer and early fall bring even greater solitude to a wilderness that sees relatively few backpackers and dayhikers compared to many parks and mountain ranges. If you’re trying to pull together a last-minute trip, the Ruby Crest Trail also offers the convenience of requiring no permit reservation.

See my story “Backpacking the Ruby Crest Trail—A Diamond in the Rough.”

I can help you plan any trip you read about at my blog. Click here to learn how.

A backpacker above Crack-in-the-Wall, Coyote Gulch, Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument, Utah.
Cyndi Hayes backpacking above Crack-in-the-Wall and Coyote Gulch, Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument, Utah.

Coyote Gulch

A hiker in Coyote Gulch in the Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument, Utah.
Cyndi Hayes hiking in Coyote Gulch in the Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument, Utah.

From one of the trailheads, you begin the roughly 15-mile hike through Coyote Gulch, in southern Utah’s Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument, by crossing ancient dunes hardened to rock to stand atop a cliff overlooking redrock towers and cliffs, including massive Stevens Arch, which spans 220 feet across and 160 feet tall. From that clifftop, you scramble down to squeeze through a tight, 100-foot-long slot called Crack-in-the-Wall—which is quite fun and not as hard as you might think.

Once in Coyote Gulch, you’ll often hike directly in the mostly shallow but energetic, perennial stream that nurtures lots of greenery, while hiking below some classic features of Southwest canyons: a natural bridge, one of the region’s most distinctive natural arches—and one deeply overhung cliff with amazing echo acoustics that delighted the kids when my family and another spent three days exploring this canyon. With relatively few hazards associated with Southwest canyons, Coyote Gulch represents one of the Southwest’s most beginner-friendly backpacking trips while earning five stars for scenery.

See my story “Playing the Memory Game in Southern Utah’s Escalante, Capitol Reef, and Bryce Canyon.”

Start out right. See “10 Perfect National Park Backpacking Trips for Beginners
and “The 5 Southwest Backpacking Trips You Should Do First.”

Iris Falls on the Bechler River, Yellowstone National Park.
Iris Falls on the Bechler River, Yellowstone National Park.

Yellowstone National Park

Colonnade Falls on the Bechler River in Yellowstone.
Colonnade Falls on the Bechler River in Yellowstone.

Imagine this: You’re partway through a wilderness backpacking trip when you reach a natural hot spring-fed pool in the backcountry… and soak for hours. That’s what awaits you in Yellowstone’s Bechler Canyon, where the famous Mr. Bubble forms a wide, hot pool at a perfect temperature for soaking.

A friend and I enjoyed a long soak in Mr. Bubble on a five-day, roughly 55-mile hike through Bechler Canyon. We also saw thunderous waterfalls and cascades along the Bechler River Trail, which also, in sections, is a quiet, tree-lined waterway with world-class trout fishing. We saw a black bear, heard elk bugling, and explored the largest backcountry geyser basin in the park—which we had almost entirely to ourselves.

September and early October are the best months to backpack in this corner of Yellowstone—after the notorious summer mosquito season, with frequently pleasant weather, when the multiple, cold fords of the Bechler get a bit lower.

See my story about that trip “In Hot (and Cold) Water: Backpacking Yellowstone’s Bechler Canyon” at The Big Outside.

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A backpacker descending Death Hollow in southern Utah's Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument.
Todd Arndt backpacking down Death Hollow in southern Utah’s Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument.

Death Hollow Loop

The 22-mile Death Hollow Loop in southern Utah’s Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument begins with the Boulder Mail Trail’s wildly meandering, up-and-down route across steep-walled canyons and over a slickrock plateau of rippling Navajo Sandstone. That first day culminates at an overlook at the rim of Death Hollow that steals your breath away, right before the trail abruptly plunges to that Escalante River tributary.

A backpacker hiking above Death Hollow on the Boulder Mail Trail in southern Utah's Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument.
Todd Arndt backpacking above Death Hollow on the Boulder Mail Trail in southern Utah’s Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument.

On the second day’s sometimes narrow and constantly surprising descent of Death Hollow, you’ll hike in cold water ranging from ankle- to thigh-deep—provided you successfully avoid slipping into the deeper pools—while encountering a succession of terrain obstacles. (Full disclosure: The poison ivy is insane.) Then you’ll ascend the upper Escalante River canyon between soaring walls of red, brown, and cream-colored rock painted with desert varnish.

The Death Hollow Loop poses significant challenges to take seriously. But at every turn, you will stumble upon scenes as pretty as you’ll find in any canyon in the Southwest. This adventure will blow your mind.

See my story “Backpacking Utah’s Mind-Blowing Death Hollow Loop.”

Time for a better backpack? See “The 10 Best Backpacking Packs
and the best ultralight packs.

Noland Creek in Great Smoky Mountains National Park.
Noland Creek in Great Smoky Mountains National Park.

Great Smoky Mountains National Park

Unquestionably one of the East’s premier backpacking destinations, the Great Smokies have two peak seasons: spring, when about 1,600 species of flowering plants—more than found in any other national park—come into bloom; and fall, when dry air and moderate temperatures settle in, insects have mostly disappeared, and the forest paints itself in the brilliant hues of autumn foliage.

A view from the Appalachian Trail in Great Smoky Mountains National Park.
A view from the Appalachian Trail in Great Smoky Mountains National Park.

While you’ve probably seen many photos of the classic vistas from Great Smokies summits of overlapping rows of blue, wooded ridges fading to a distant horizon, I’ve found that much of the park’s magic resides in its rocky streams tumbling through cascades, and a diverse forest where you may hear only the sound of birds.

On a 34-mile, October hike in the park, beginning near Fontana Lake and traversing a stretch of the Appalachian Trail, I enjoyed a grand tour of this half-million-acre park, including 6,643-foot Clingmans Dome and the park’s highest bald, 5,920-foot Andrews Bald. I also found a surprising degree of solitude, even in the very popular fall hiking season.

See my story “In the Garden of Eden: Backpacking the Great Smoky Mountains” and all stories about Great Smoky Mountains National Park and hiking and backpacking in western North Carolina at The Big Outside.

Get the right puffy jacket to keep you warm in fall. See “The 12 Best Down Jackets.”

A backpacker hiking at dawn above the Lyell Fork of the Merced River, Yosemite National Park.
Mark Fenton hiking at dawn above the Lyell Fork of the Merced River in Yosemite.

Yosemite National Park

Want to know the hardest thing about backpacking in Yosemite? Getting the permit. Well, okay, the hiking itself can be tough at times. But the competition for wilderness permits in this flagship park is stiff, especially for popular trailheads in and around Yosemite Valley and Tuolumne Meadows. That’s one reason why backpackers in the know go after Labor Day. Another reason is that while early-season snowstorms occasionally slam the High Sierra in autumn, nice weather often lasts through September—my favorite time in the High Sierra—and sometimes into October.

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The Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne River, Yosemite.
The Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne River in Yosemite.

With less demand in late summer and autumn, you can often score a last-minute permit for a five-star hike of almost any distance, hitting top Yosemite summits like Clouds Rest and Mount Hoffmann, and the incomparable Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne River, plus remote areas like Red Peak Pass, the highest pass reached by trail in Yosemite.

The park issues 40 percent of wilderness permits online from seven days to three days before the trip start date at recreation.gov/permits/445859. That enables backpackers who didn’t apply months ago to plan a trip about a week out and arrive at the park with the assurance of having a permit reservation. And outside the park’s popular core area between Yosemite Valley and Tuolumne Meadows, a permit is much easier to get.

Then the only hard aspect of the hike will be… you got it: the hike.

See “Backpacking Yosemite: What You Need to Know,” “How to Get a Last-Minute Yosemite Wilderness Permit Now,” “Best of Yosemite: Backpacking South of Tuolumne Meadows,” “Best of Yosemite: Backpacking Remote Northern Yosemite,” “Yosemite’s Best-Kept Secret Backpacking Trip,” “Where to Backpack First Time in Yosemite,” and all stories about backpacking in Yosemite at The Big Outside.

See also my expert e-books “The Best First Backpacking Trip in Yosemite,” “The Best Backpacking Trip in Yosemite,” and “The Best Remote and Uncrowded Backpacking Trip in Yosemite.”

I’ve helped numerous readers of my blog figure out how and where they can get a last-minute, walk-in wilderness permit in Yosemite, and then laid out the route for them. See my Custom Trip Planning page.


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to get professional-quality prints of this blog’s most inspiring images!


A backpacker on the Grand Canyon's South Kaibab Trail.
Todd Arndt backpacking the Grand Canyon’s South Kaibab Trail. Click photo for my e-book “The Best First Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon.”

Grand Canyon National Park

You already know that spring and fall are the prime seasons for backpacking in the Grand Canyon. But while weather can be unstable in either season, in spring you’re aiming for a window between when snow and ice melt off the rims in April and when the scorching temps hit the inner canyon in May. In fall, though, you’ll enjoy dry trails, a surprising amount of color in the sparse desert vegetation, and pleasant temperatures often lasting into November (which was when I backpacked there with my 10-year-old daughter).

A backpacker above Royal Arch Canyon on the Grand Canyon's Royal Arch Loop.
Kris Wagner backpacking the Grand Canyon’s Royal Arch Loop.

Backpacking permits for the corridor trails—the South and North Kaibab and Bright Angel—are in high demand. Sure, grab those campsites if available; but if not, I recommend the 29-mile hike from Grandview Point to the South Kaibab Trailhead, or the 25-mile hike from Hermits Rest to the Bright Angel Trailhead—or even combining or overlapping them. Both feature sublime campsites, stretches of flatter hiking along the Tonto Trail with views reaching from the Colorado River to the South and North rims, and crossings of deep side canyons with flaming-red walls shooting straight up into the sky.

And backpackers ready for a bigger canyon route should see my story “The Best Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon,” a trip that is described in this e-book.

See “10 Epic Grand Canyon Backpacking Trips You Must Do,” or scroll down to Grand Canyon on the All National Park Trips page for a menu of all stories about the Grand Canyon at The Big Outside.

Get my expert e-books to “The Best First Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon
and “The Best Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon.”

A backpacker in the North Fork of Cascade Canyon in Grand Teton National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking the Teton Crest Trail in the North Fork of Cascade Canyon. Click photo for “The Complete Guide to Backpacking the Teton Crest Trail.”

Grand Teton National Park

A backpacker on the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park.

Like Yosemite and Grand Canyon, Grand Teton is a park where securing a backcountry permit reservation requires being on top of the process months in advance, applying the minute reservations open in January; most reservable backcountry camping gets booked for the entire summer typically within minutes. But the park also sets aside about two-thirds of available backcountry campsites for walk-in permits, issued up to a day in advance of a starting multi-day hike. While demand is huge for those during July and August, as with other parks, it tails off steadily after Labor Day.

The combination of relatively high elevations and a northerly latitude brings a slightly higher probability that snow will fly in the Tetons in late summer or early fall. But beautiful summer weather, with pleasant days and crisp nights, can extend into late September, a season when you’ll see aspens turn golden and hear rutting elk bugling. And fewer backpackers show up at park offices seeking a permit—you can walk in, grab one, and go.

See my stories “A Wonderful Obsession: Backpacking the Teton Crest Trail,” “The 5 Best Backpacking Trips in Grand Teton National Park,” “How to Get a Permit to Backpack the Teton Crest Trail,” “How to Backpack the Teton Crest Trail Without a Permit,” and all stories about backpacking the Teton Crest Trail at The Big Outside.

See also my bestselling, expert e-books “The Complete Guide to Backpacking the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park” and “The Best Short Backpacking Trip in Grand Teton National Park.”

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Big Spring in The Narrows, Zion National Park.
Big Spring in Zion’s Narrows. Click photo for “The Complete Guide to Backpacking the Narrows in Zion National Park.”

Zion National Park

Here’s what I’ve discovered about Zion in numerous visits since my first three decades ago: The more time you spend there, the more you discover there is to do—so you need to keep coming back. But exploring Zion faces seasonal limitations, especially for its two premier backpacking trips.

A view along the West Rim Trail in Zion Canyon, Zion National Park.
A view along the West Rim Trail in Zion Canyon, Zion National Park.

The North Fork of the Virgin River often runs too high in spring to make the overnight descent of The Narrows; and while much of it is shaded and cool even on summer’s hottest days, the top and bottom are exposed to the broiling sun. And he approximately 40-mile, north-south traverse of the park from the Lee Pass Trailhead in the Kolob Canyons to Zion Canyon crosses high plateaus that often remain snow-covered into May, with one creek crossing that can be challenging in the high water of spring.

But September and October offer prime conditions for these hikes—and the cottonwood trees turn golden in October. I even backpacked The Narrows with a forecast for ideal weather in early November.

See my stories “Luck of the Draw, Part 2: Backpacking Zion’s Narrows” and “Pilgrimage Across Zion: Traversing a Land of Otherworldly Scenery.”

Get my expert e-book “The Complete Guide to Backpacking the Narrows in Zion National Park.”

Planning your next big adventure? See “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips
and “Tent Flap With a View: 25 Favorite Backcountry Campsites.”

 

A hiker at Zeacliff, overlooking the Pemigewasset Wilderness, White Mountains, N.H.
Mark Fenton at Zeacliff, overlooking the Pemigewasset Wilderness, White Mountains, N.H.

White Mountains

If ever there were mountains that screamed to be explored in fall, these are those. New Hampshire’s rocky and steep White Mountains are where I wore out my first several pairs of hiking boots, and I still return every year for their awe-inspiring brand of suffering. While the fall colors that usually peak in early October are beautiful throughout the Whites, my top two picks for fall backpacking trips are a 32-mile loop around the Pemigewasset Wilderness and a 24-mile traverse from Crawford Notch to Franconia Notch, mostly on the Appalachian Trail.

A hiker on Bondcliff, on the Pemi Loop in New Hampshire's White Mountains.
Mark Fenton on Bondcliff, on the Pemi Loop in New Hampshire’s White Mountains.

The 32-mile Pemi Loop from the Lincoln Woods Trailhead on the Kancamagus Highway (NH 112) crosses eight official 4,000-foot summits, including the alpine traverse of Franconia Ridge—with its constant panorama encompassing most of the Whites—and a walk along the rocky crest of remote Bondcliff, in the heart of the Pemigewasset. Crawford to Franconia overlaps some of the Pemi Loop’s highlights, while adding killer views of Crawford and Zealand notches. (Tip: Definitely take the short side trip to the overlook at Zeacliff, photo above.) And you can add on the summits of Bond, Bondcliff, and West Bond by tacking on an out-and-back side trip that adds several miles.

See “The Best Hikes in the White Mountains,” “Still Crazy After All These Years: Hiking in the White Mountains,” and “Being Stupid With Friends: A 32-Mile Dayhike in the White Mountains,” about dayhiking the Pemi Loop.

Do you love backcountry lakes?
Check out these photos of the most gorgeous wilderness lakes I’ve ever seen.

 

A backpacker on the Timberline Trail around Oregon's Mount Hood.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking the Timberline Trail around Oregon’s Mount Hood.

Mount Hood’s Timberline Trail

A multi-day hike with views around almost every bend of a towering volcano draped in snow and ice, where you pass through forests of ancient, big trees—sounds like the classic Wonderland Trail around Mount Rainier, right? Actually, it’s the 41-mile Timberline Trail looping Oregon’s 11,239-foot Mount Hood, and it competes with the better-known Wonderland for scenic splendor, waterfalls, and wildflower meadows, while delivering a higher degree of excitement and challenge with its full-value creek crossings. Although the wildflowers are past bloom in September, the creek crossings become reassuringly easier, the crowds thinner, the air crisper, and the views no less stunning.

Sunrise at Cooper Spur campsite, Timberline Trail, Mount Hood, Oregon.
Sunrise at Cooper Spur campsite on the Timberline Trail, Mount Hood, Oregon.

Granted, the year’s first snowfall can certainly happen at Hood in September or October. That said, late summer and autumn deliver many days of glorious weather in the Pacific Northwest, and the Timberline is less than half the distance of the Wonderland, making it easier to knock off with a decent weather window. Plus, unlike the Wonderland, the Timberline involves no permit hoops to jump through. If the forecast promises a string of three to five reasonably nice days, aim your compass for the Timberline Trail.

See my story “Full of Surprises: Backpacking Mount Hood’s Timberline Trail.”

Whether you’re a beginner or seasoned backpacker, you’ll learn new tricks for making all of your trips go better in my “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” A Practical Guide to Lightweight and Ultralight Backpacking,” and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.” With a paid subscription to The Big Outside, you can read all of those three stories for free; if you don’t have a subscription, you can download the e-book versions of “12 Expert Tips for Planning a Backpacking Trip,” the lightweight and ultralight backpacking guide, and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”

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Backpacking 150 Miles Through Wildest Yosemite https://thebigoutsideblog.com/backpacking-150-miles-through-wildest-yosemite/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/backpacking-150-miles-through-wildest-yosemite/#comments Sun, 03 Aug 2025 09:00:52 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=21985 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

In early evening on a bluebird September day, deep in northern Yosemite National Park, my friend Todd Arndt and I—with legs a little weary—reached our fourth pass on a 23-mile day, the second day of a four-day, 87-mile hike. Only a quad-melting, 1,500-foot descent stood between us and soothing our feet in the cool sand and cold water at Benson Lake (possibly the most unbelievable mountain lake I’ve ever seen).

We hiked past quiet tarns where a few backpackers were camped. And it struck me that they were the first people Todd and I had seen all day. That’s not an observation one expects to make in Yosemite. But we were exploring the “other Yosemite”—not the overcrowded park, but its most remote backcountry, on one of the best multi-day hikes I’ve ever taken.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne River.
Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne River, Yosemite.

There’s a back story here. After several visits to Yosemite over the past three decades, backpacking, dayhiking, and climbing—some of those to write stories for this blog and Backpacker magazine, where I was Northwest Editor for 10 years—I had become kind of obsessed with the fact that I had still not explored the park’s two most expansive swaths of wilderness: the Clark Range and Merced River headwaters south of Tuolumne Meadows, and even vaster northern Yosemite.

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 So I set out to finally fill in that glaring omission in my backpacking résumé, concocting an ambitious plan to make a 152-mile grand tour of Yosemite’s most remote backcountry in one week, divided into two legs, resupplying between them.

First came a three-day, 65-mile loop south of Tuolumne Meadows, including two of Yosemite’s most thrilling summits, Clouds Rest and Half Dome, plus walking through the Clark Range and tagging the highest pass reached by trail in the park, 11,500-foot Red Peak Pass.

That was to be immediately followed by a four-day, nearly 87-mile walk through the biggest and most remote chunk of wilderness on the Yosemite map: a circuit north of Tuolumne Meadows through a vast realm of deep canyons like the Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne River—which is sort of like Yosemite Valley, but twice as long, with most of the people and all of the buildings and cars removed. We crossed passes at over 10,000 feet below peaks rising to over 12,000 feet, and stood atop a peak often described as having the best summit view in Yosemite.

See “How to Get a Last-Minute Yosemite Wilderness Permit Now.”

Smoke from wildfires sent three friends and I home after completing the 65-mile hike. So Todd and I returned to Yosemite a year later and knocked off the 87-miler.

Scroll through the photo gallery and watch the videos below and you’ll see why that 152-mile grand tour of Yosemite’s most remote areas ranks among “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips.” Below the gallery, find links to my feature stories about both of these backpacking trips, videos about each one, and links to my expert e-books that will help you plan and successfully pull off either trip.

And my Custom Trip Planning page explains how I can help you plan your trip.

Get full access to my Yosemite stories and ALL stories at The Big Outside,
plus a FREE e-book. Join now!

See my blog’s feature stories “Best of Yosemite: Backpacking South of Tuolumne Meadows,” about the 65-mile first leg of that grand tour of Yosemite, and “Best of Yosemite: Backpacking Remote Northern Yosemite,” about the 87-mile second leg. Both stories have many photos, videos, and details on planning each hike—in however many days you’d like to take (most backpackers would probably take six to eight days on them). Like most stories at The Big Outside, a paid subscription is required to read these two stories in full, including some basic trip-planning information.

I can help you plan a great backpacking trip in Yosemite
or any trip you read about at my blog. Find out more here.

Looking northeast from Mule Pass in Yosemite National Park.
Looking northeast from Mule Pass in northern Yosemite. Click photo for my e-book “The Best Remote and Uncrowded Backpacking Trip in Yosemite.”

See also “How to Get a Yosemite or High Sierra Wilderness Permit,” “How to Get a Last-Minute Yosemite Wilderness Permit Now,” and my “10 Tips For Getting a Hard-to-Get National Park Backcountry Permit.”

Want to take either of these amazing trips? My expert e-books tell you everything you need to know (in much deeper detail than the feature stories) to plan and successfully pull off either trip, including multiple hiking itineraries. “The Best Backpacking Trip in Yosemite” describes the 65-mile hike south of Tuolumne and “The Best Remote and Uncrowded Backpacking Trip in Yosemite” describes the 87-mile hike north of Tuolumne.

Click here now for my e-book “The Best Backpacking Trip in Yosemite.”

 

 

 Click here now for my e-book “Backpacking Wild, Uncrowded Northern Yosemite.”

 

I’ve also helped many readers plan an unforgettable backpacking trip in Yosemite—including readers planning a last-minute trip without having a permit reservation. See my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you plan your trip.

See all stories about backpacking in Yosemite National Park at The Big Outside.

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How to Pitch a Tent in Rain and Keep It Dry https://thebigoutsideblog.com/how-to-pitch-a-tent-in-rain-and-keep-it-dry/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/how-to-pitch-a-tent-in-rain-and-keep-it-dry/#comments Tue, 29 Jul 2025 09:00:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=47465 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

It’s a situation all backpackers eventually encounter, no matter how hard you try to avoid it: You reach a backcountry campsite in a steady rain and must try to pitch your tent without soaking the interior. How successfully you accomplish that will greatly affect how warm and dry you remain that night—and probably how well-rested and good you feel the next morning. Follow these tips to keep your backpacking shelter and gear dry in that scenario.

I’ve had to pitch a tent in rain countless times, from the White Mountains to the North Cascades, Olympic National Park, and Alaska’s Glacier Bay, among other places over the past three-plus decades of backpacking all over the country—including the 10 years I spent as Northwest Editor of Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A backpacker at Sahale Glacier Camp in North Cascades National Park.
David Ports at Sahale Glacier Camp in North Cascades National Park. Click on the photo to see my 25 Favorite Backcountry Campsites.

Here’s the problem with getting your tent’s interior wet when erecting it: If the rain—and high humidity—continues, the interior is unlikely to dry out much overnight. That means everything you bring into the tent, including your extra clothing and sleeping bag (which have hopefully stayed dry in your pack; see my picks for the best stuff sacks and other backpacking accessories), will get wet via contact with the interior’s wet floor and walls.

And that means it will likely all be damp or quite wet when you pack up in the morning—and compressing a damp bag into a stuff sack ensures the spread of that moisture throughout the bag. Then you’re really hoping for the sun to come out by the time you reach your next campsite so that you can lay your bag and other stuff out to dry.

To avoid that unpleasant circumstance, follow the tips below.

Plan your next great backpacking trip in Yosemite, Grand Teton,
and other parks using my expert e-books.

A rainbow over a backpacker hiking through a rainstorm in Wyoming's Wind River Range.
A rainbow over Todd Arndt while backpacking through a rainstorm in Wyoming’s Wind River Range. Click photo to read about backpacking in the Winds.

When pitching a tent in a steady rain, if possible, assemble it under a thick canopy of tree branches, which often provides some shelter from the rain. Once it’s set up, you can move it to your preferred tentsite and stake it out.

Whether or not you have some protection under a tree, with any traditional double-wall tent—that is, a shelter consisting of an interior, mesh-walled tent and a separate rainfly—first spread the interior tent on the ground and have the rainfly ready to quickly spread over the tent, before inserting the poles.

Then crawl under the rainfly to erect the poles, keeping the interior tent largely protected from direct rainfall. It’s a little awkward but not very difficult and usually succeeds in keeping your interior tent dry.

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Backpackers at a rainy camp along the High Divide Trail in Olympic National Park.
David Ports and Jeff Wilhelm at a rainy camp along the High Divide Trail in Olympic National Park. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan any trip you read about at this blog.

Still raining the next morning? If you get a rain-free window, certainly take advantage of it to pack up. Otherwise, load most of your stuff into your pack inside the tent; then step outside, shield your pack from rain as well as possible (under a rain cover or even a tree); and just as when you pitched the tent, dismantle it with the rainfly protecting the interior tent, then stuff the latter inside your pack and the wet rainfly into an exterior stuff pocket.

If you frequently backpack in a wet climate and often find yourself setting up a tent in rain, consider that when buying your next tent—look for a model that pitches quickly and easily and perhaps has a rainfly integrated with the interior living space.

Got any questions or tips of your own? Please share them in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

I’ve helped many readers plan unforgettable backpacking and hiking trips.
Want my help with yours? Click here now.

A backpacker hiking through rain showers on the Grand Canyon's Royal Arch Loop.
Jon Dorn backpacking through rain showers on the Grand Canyon’s Royal Arch Loop. Click photo to read about backpacking in the Grand Canyon.

See “7 Pro Tips for Keeping Your Backpacking Gear Dry,” “10 Expert Tips For Staying Warm and Dry Hiking in Rain,” “5 Smart Steps to Lighten Your Backpacking Gear,” all stories offering expert backpacking tips at The Big Outside, plus “The 10 Best Backpacking Tents.”

See also my “5 Tips For Buying a Backpacking Tent” and “How to Choose the Best Ultralight Tent for You.” (Both of those stories require a paid subscription to The Big Outside to read in full.)

Whether you’re a beginner or seasoned backpacker, you’ll learn new tricks for making all of your trips go better in my “12 Expert Tips for Planning a Backpacking Trip,” “A Practical Guide to Lightweight and Ultralight Backpacking,” and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.” With a paid subscription to The Big Outside, you can read all of those three stories for free; if you don’t have a subscription, you can download the e-book versions of “12 Expert Tips for Planning a Backpacking Trip,” the lightweight and ultralight backpacking guide, and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”

NOTE: I tested gear for Backpacker magazine for 20 years. At The Big Outside, I review only what I consider the best outdoor gear and apparel. See The Big Outside’s Gear Reviews page for categorized menus of gear reviews and expert buying tips.

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Mountain Lakes of Idaho’s Sawtooths—A Photo Gallery https://thebigoutsideblog.com/photo-gallery-mountain-lakes-of-idahos-sawtooths/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/photo-gallery-mountain-lakes-of-idahos-sawtooths/#comments Sat, 26 Jul 2025 09:05:14 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=20224 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

I may be risking an impassioned debate here, but I think there are very few mountain ranges in America with as many drop-dead, gorgeous high mountain lakes as Idaho’s Sawtooths. Yes, a few mountain ranges clearly outnumber the Sawtooths in that department, like the High Sierra, Cascades, and Wind River Range. But I believe the Sawtooths deserve similar recognition, and I’ve seen many of those watery jewels over more than 20 years of wandering around Idaho’s best-known hills. This gallery of photos of many of them may persuade you to agree with me—and to see them for yourself.

I don’t make this claim about Sawtooth Mountains lakes lightly. I’ve hiked and backpacked all over the country as a past Northwest Editor for Backpacker magazine for 10 years and even longer running this blog, and I’m a big fan of the High Sierra and the Winds, the Tetons, the Cascades (especially the North Cascades), the White Mountains (where I started hiking), and other mountain ranges. Anyone reading my story “Tent Flap With a View: 25 Favorite Backcountry Campsites” or looking at my photo gallery of favorite backcountry lakes will see I’ve camped by a lot of nice lakes.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


Alice Lake in Idaho's Sawtooth Mountains.
Alice Lake in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains. Click photo to see all the photos from this blog that are available for purchase, including this one, at my Outdoor Photography page.

Some lakes in the Sawtooths, like Alice and Sawtooth lakes, are well known. Others are more remote and obscure; you may have never seen a photo of some of these. All are only reached by hiking or riding a horse for miles into the wilderness. Seeing these incredible places requires time and effort.

When you consider the beauty and the sheer numbers of clear, high mountain lakes tucked in granite basins ringed by soaring cliffs and jagged peaks, I just think Idaho’s Sawtooths are up there with the best. I rank the Sawtooths among the 10 best backpacking trips in America.

Click on the photo gallery to open it and use right and left arrow keys to scroll through it. Find links below the gallery to stories about backpacking in the Sawtooths at The Big Outside.

Click here now for my expert e-book to the best backpacking trip in Idaho’s Sawtooths!

If you think I’ve overlooked an outstanding lake in the Sawtooths, or if you believe you know of a range with prettier mountain lakes, please suggest it in the comments section below this story. I try to respond to all comments.

See “The Best of Idaho’s Sawtooths: Backpacking Redfish to Pettit,” “The Best Hikes and Backpacking Trips in Idaho’s Sawtooths,” and all stories about backpacking in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains at The Big Outside. Most stories about trips at The Big Outside require a paid subscription to read in full, including my expert tips on how to plan and take those trips.

I’ve helped many readers plan an unforgettable backpacking trip in Idaho’s Sawtooths and elsewhere. Want my help with yours? See my Custom Trip Planning page to learn more.

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15 Simple Landscape Photography Tips For Better Outdoor Photos https://thebigoutsideblog.com/12-simple-tips-for-taking-better-outdoor-photos/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/12-simple-tips-for-taking-better-outdoor-photos/#comments Wed, 23 Jul 2025 09:00:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=8867 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Do you wonder how some people come back from national parks and other outdoor trips with fantastic photos? Would you like to take the kind of pictures that make people ooh and aah? Improving your photos may not be as complicated as you think. The following tips on outdoor and landscape photography, which I’ve learned as a trained professional and refined over more than three decades of shooting the finest scenery in America and the world, will help you take home better photos whether you’re a beginner or an experienced photographer.

Sure, equipment like a high-end camera with interchangeable lenses helps a lot, and the more time you spend shooting and learning how to hone your skills, the better your photos will be. Shooting raw files—which record more data for each photo than jpegs and can be edited more extensively—and learning how to use a high-end editing program like Adobe Lightroom also greatly improves photo quality.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


Alice Lake in Idaho's Sawtooth Mountains.
Alice Lake in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains. You can purchase enlarged, professional prints, suitable for framing, of this photo and others at The Big Outside. Click on this photo to learn more at my Outdoor Photography page.

But the best camera gear and editing software cannot create a great photograph. That still requires skill—beginning with understanding some fundamental rules of composing images.

I’ve assembled here what I consider the 15 simplest, easy-to-follow, actionable, and most effective tips for taking better pictures, especially landscape photos, and improving your outdoor photography. Follow them and your family and friends will start asking to see your trip pictures.

Sunset sky over Thousand Island Lake in the Ansel Adams Wilderness, along the John Muir Trail in the High Sierra.
Sunset sky over Thousand Island Lake in the Ansel Adams Wilderness, along the John Muir Trail in the High Sierra.

Click on most photos in this story to read about that trip. Like many stories at The Big Outside, part of this one is free for anyone to read but reading the entire story and all of my landscape photography tips requires a paid subscription. If you’re already a subscriber, thank you for supporting my blog.

If you have comments or questions on my tips or your own to share, please do so in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

Grand Prismatic Geyser, Yellowstone. Grand Prismatic Geyser, Yellowstone. Grand Prismatic Geyser, Yellowstone. Grand Prismatic Geyser, Yellowstone. Midway Geyser Basin, Yellowstone Grand Prismatic Spring in Midway Geyser Basin, Yellowstone National Park. Grand Prismatic Geyser, Yellowstone.

1. Look for Dramatic Light

We were on a family vacation in Yellowstone National Park, and after doing the sit-and-wait with the kids—and several hundred other tourists—for Old Faithful to erupt, I wanted to stop at Midway Geyser Basin. I had done the walk through Midway before, and thought that then—in late afternoon, with dappled, low-angle light coming through scudding clouds—would be a perfect time to shoot Yellowstone’s largest hot spring, the wildly multi-colored and aptly named Grand Prismatic Spring.

The timing could not have been more perfect. The light accentuated the contrast between the dark hills in the background; the steam rising from the water, brightened by low-angle sunlight slashing through it; the deeply blue sky; and the incredibly rich, kaleidoscopic colors of Grand Prismatic, whose waters also reflected their surroundings perfectly in that light. In about 30 minutes of shooting, I came away with even more than the 14 keeper images in the gallery above—which for a serious photographer is a major haul.

The lesson: Dramatic light is what makes a landscape photo pop. Know your location and think about the best time of day and even the best season to shoot it to capture it in strong light.

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Wildflowers along the Teton Crest Trail, Grand Teton National Park.
Wildflowers along the Teton Crest Trail, Grand Teton National Park. Click photo to see this and other images available for purchase as professional-quality prints at my Outdoor Photography page.

2. Think About Your Foreground

Photos are two-dimensional, and if you just shoot a row of distant mountains, the photo will look flat. Shooting in dappled sunlight (described in tip no. 1) helps make a photo look more three-dimensional.

But you can convey a sense of depth—of the three-dimensional appearance of the landscape—by shooting with a wide-angle lens and composing your photo with a person or object in the foreground, as I did in the above shot from the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park and in the lead photo at the top of this story of a small tarn above Helen Lake, along the John Muir Trail in Kings Canyon National Park, and the second photo in this story of Alice Lake in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains.

Position the camera close to, say, a big rock, a lakeshore, or a wildflower and frame the image so that there’s scenery in the middle distance (maybe a lake or forest) and far away (the mountains). Observe closely and you will notice many photos at The Big Outside and elsewhere that employ this basic technique.

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Hikers descending off Mount Bláhnúkur, above Landmannalaugar, Iceland.
My daughter, Alex, and son, Nate, descending off the peak Bláhnúkur, above Landmannalaugar in Iceland’s Central Highlands.
Geraniums in Jotunheimen National Park, Norway.
Geraniums, Jotunheimen National Park, Norway.

3. Think About Your Background

The background may not be your primary subject, but it can either make your subject more prominent or swallow it.

For instance, if the subject is a person or people in the middle distance who look small against a scenic backdrop (see tip no. 5)—as with the photo above from a peak named Bláhnúkur in Iceland—position the camera (yourself) relative to your subject so that there’s a bright backdrop behind the person, like the sky or lake waters or light-colored rock or ground.

A person who’s small in the image would get lost against a dark backdrop like forest—unless that person is wearing brightly colored clothing (another trick for making the subject stand out against the background).

Conversely, if your subject is very bright—like a wildflower spotlighted in a shaft of sunlight, such as these geraniums (at right) in Norway’s Jotunheimen National Park—position yourself to shoot so that there’s dark shadow behind the flower, to make it stand out better; and use a low aperture setting to blur the background (tip no. 10, below).

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A backpacker descending toward Granite Creek on the Wonderland Trail in Mount Rainier National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm descending toward Granite Creek on the Wonderland Trail in Mount Rainier National Park.

4. Follow the Rule of Thirds

Beginner photographers commonly place the subject smack in the middle of the photo (and, too often, they cut off a person’s feet—a no-no). Compose photos following the rule of thirds: Mentally divide your image into thirds along the longer edge, i.e., when shooting a horizontal picture, the imaginary lines dividing the photo into thirds run vertically. Place your subject—person, bunch of wildflowers, animal, whatever—in the right or left third of the frame, as in the photo above of a backpacker on the Wonderland Trail around Mount Rainier. Have the person facing toward or away from the camera or facing into/across rather than out of the picture.

For the same reason, do not compose a photo with the land-sky horizon cutting straight through the middle of it; give the sky one-third of the picture or place the horizon in the lower third of the photo and let a dramatic sky dominate the image.

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A backpacker on the Teton Crest Trail.
Todd Arndt backpacking the Teton Crest Trail. Click photo to see all stories about backpacking the Teton Crest Trail at The Big Outside.

5. Put a Person in There for Scale

You’ve seen many examples of this and probably done it yourself: Place a person or people far enough from the camera to make them appear small in order to convey a sense of the landscape’s vastness, as I did in the photo above from the Teton Crest Trail. Magazines use photos like this frequently because they know that readers identify with the person in the photo—the “I want to be there” effect.

The trick to doing this effectively is to make sure the tiny person remains large enough and visible against the background (tip no. 3) so as not to disappear, and to remember the Rule of Thirds (tip no. 4). Having just one person in the picture also introduces a powerful feeling of solitude that amplifies the sense of vastness.

Planning your next big adventure? See “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips
and “The 25 Best National Park Dayhikes.”

A backpacker passing Wanda Lake on the John Muir Trail in Kings Canyon National Park.
Todd Arndt passing Wanda Lake, along the John Muir Trail in the Evolution Basin, Kings Canyon National Park.

6. Look to the Sky

The sky is typically at least two f-stops brighter than the earth and sometimes much more than that—especially in early morning or evening, as in the photo above from Wanda Lake on the John Muir Trail in Kings Canyon National Park. An f-stop is a full step in aperture settings as they used to appear on cameras in the pre-digital era, i.e., the different between f5.6 and f8, or f8 and f11, which represents a halving of the amount of light entering the camera as you move up the f-stop number scale, just as going from a shutter speed of 1/125 to 1/250 halves the amount of light entering the camera. Modern digital cameras increase aperture versatility by allowing adjustments of one-third of a full f-stop, for example, inserting two more partial f-stops (6.3 and 7.1) between f5.6 and f8.

Overexposing the sky so that it washes out—loses all or most detail—makes the photo look dull. In pre-digital days, photographers used graduated filters to darken the sky when shooting while keeping the earth brighter. Today, we can edit digital photos for the same effect produced by those old graduated filters, but it’s more difficult to restore details in an overexposed sky when editing than it is to brighten underexposed earth. So I often expose for the sky and brighten the shadowed land when editing.

Very simply: Point the camera toward the sky and depress your shutter-release button halfway to set the exposure. Then depress and hold the camera’s auto-exposure lock (typically marked AE-L and AF-L if it doubles as the auto-focus lock, and within reach of your right thumb) as you move the camera to compose the picture you want, and then shoot it.

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Mountain Lakes of the Wind River Range—A Photo Gallery https://thebigoutsideblog.com/mountain-lakes-of-the-wind-river-range-a-photo-gallery/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/mountain-lakes-of-the-wind-river-range-a-photo-gallery/#comments Fri, 18 Jul 2025 09:00:14 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=59578 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

We followed the Doubletop Mountain Trail as it rolled over open plateau country above 10,000 feet in the Wind River Range, crossing one gorgeous lake basin after another where wildflowers still carpeted the ground in the week before Labor Day. In the distance, peaks along the Continental Divide soared to over 13,000 feet, jabbing at the underbellies of clouds. Turning onto the Highline Trail, we reached an unnamed tarn in late afternoon and walked beyond it to a flat, broad bench overlooking a meadow and lake below a pair of huge towers, 12,119-foot Sky Pilot Peak and 12,224-foot Mount Oeneis. It was a serendipitous find to make our home for the night.

But the real magic arrived the next morning, when nature served up a perfect stew of conditions—calm air, dappled light, still water, and a stunning backdrop—to create a scene that validates carrying all the weight on your back for days (and makes for a pretty good photo, above).


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A backpacker at a small tarn in the upper valley of Middle Fork Lake on the Wind River High Route.
Justin Glass at a small tarn in the upper valley of Middle Fork Lake on the Wind River High Route.

I first began exploring Wyoming’s Wind River Range about 30 years ago and have returned many times since, drawn back again and again by its almost bottomless well of adventure potential. In that time, I’ve learned about the many reasons to walk for days through the Winds, which exist in the deep shadow of Grand Teton and Yellowstone national parks just a couple of hours to the north—a state of relative anonymity that many backpackers celebrate. Its lack of national park status and sheer vastness enable a high degree of solitude for backpackers willing to make the considerable effort (and take the time) to explore more deeply into the range, which extends for nearly 100 miles north to south.

And few mountain ranges match the grandiosity of the Wind River Range. The Colorado Rockies and High Sierra reach greater heights and I would include both among the handful of ranges—certainly the Tetons and the Teton Crest Trail as well as Yosemite and the High Sierra, Glacier, the North Cascades, and the Wonderland Trail around Mount Rainier—that project the breathtaking grandeur of the soaring, jagged peaks of the Winds, where some 40 summits top 13,000 feet, including Wyoming’s highest, 13,804-foot Gannett Peak.

See “The 10 Best Backpacking Trips in the Wind River Range.”

Pyramid Peak (right) and Mount Hooker (left of Pyramid), above Mae's Lake in the Wind River Range, Wyoming.
Pyramid Peak (right) and Mount Hooker (left of Pyramid), above Mae’s Lake in the Wind River Range. Click photo to see this and many other photos from places I’ve written about at The Big Outside that are available to purchase as professional-quality enlargements suitable for framing.

Plus, much of the Wind River Range lies within federally designated wilderness, meaning no visitor centers, no motors, no roads crossing the range anywhere.

But it’s the lakes that will steal your heart. With the notable exception of the High Sierra, no mountain range in America harbors as many beautiful alpine lakes and tarns as the Wind River Range. Backpacking there, you will hike past several every day where you will wish you were camping.

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A backpacker hiking to Island Lake in Wyoming's Wind River Range.
Todd Arndt backpacking to Island Lake in Wyoming’s Wind River Range.

I’ve carried a pack through many mountain ranges across the country over more than three decades, including the 10 years I spent as the Northwest Editor of Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog. But there are just a handful of places I return to again and again as much as I do the Winds, which I count among “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips.” I think these photos of many of my favorite Wind River Range lakes might persuade you to explore these mountains.

But be forewarned: It can be habit-forming.

Click on the photo gallery to view each photo enlarged and scroll below the gallery to links to stories about backpacking in the Winds at The Big Outside.

I’ve helped many readers plan a great backpacking trip in the Winds and elsewhere.
Want my help with yours? Find out more here.

See “The 10 Best Backpacking Trips in the Wind River Range,” “5 Reasons You Must Backpack the Wind River Range,” “The Best Backpacking Trip in the Wind River Range? Yup,” and all stories about backpacking in the Winds at The Big Outside. Like most stories about trips at this blog, reading those in full requires a paid subscription to The Big Outside.

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The First 5 Things I Do in Camp When Backpacking https://thebigoutsideblog.com/the-first-5-things-i-do-in-camp-when-backpacking/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/the-first-5-things-i-do-in-camp-when-backpacking/#comments Wed, 16 Jul 2025 09:00:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=24437 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

I doubt that I had any typical routine when arriving at a campsite on my earliest backpacking trips; like many backpackers, I probably just dropped my pack, shucked off my boots, and kicked back until motivated to move by the urge to eat, drink, get warm, or go to the bathroom. Over the years, though, I’ve developed a routine that I follow almost religiously when I arrive in camp at the end of a day of backpacking. These five simple, quick, almost effortless steps make a world of difference in how good I feel that evening and the next morning, and how well I sleep.

These tips derive from habits I’ve gradually adopted over more than three decades and innumerable backpacking trips across the U.S. and around the world, including the 10 years I spent as Northwest Editor of Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog. These are practices I’ve followed in every type of environment and on every type of trip, from easier outings with my family when our kids were young—although it didn’t always feel “easier” carrying much of our children’s gear and food—to extreme adventures backpacking 20 to 30 or more miles per day.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A backpacker hiking the Doubletop Mountain Trail, Wind River Range WY.
My wife, Penny, backpacking the Doubletop Mountain Trail in the Wind River Range, Wyoming. Click photo to see “The 10 Best Backpacking Trips in the Wind River Range.”

Follow these tips and I think you’ll make your campsite hours—and backpacking trips as a whole—more comfortable.

Click on any photo to read more about that place and please share your thoughts on my tips, or any tips or regular practices you have when you get into camp on backpacking trips in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

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A backpacker cooling off in the Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne River, in Yosemite.
Todd Arndt cooling off in the Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne River, in Yosemite National Park.

#1 Take Care of My Feet

Task number one: yank off my boots (or shoes) and socks and soak my feet in a cold creek or lake to “ice” achy muscles and wash dirt off my feet and legs as well as possible without soap. I often also take a swim—usually after stretching (see #2)—to cool off, get the dust and sweat off my body, and let the chilly water soothe all of the muscles I’ve worked. All of this will help me relax and sleep better.

I sometimes bring light camp footwear, like flip-flops or sandals, to change into if my hiking footwear is boots that are heavier and hotter than I want to wear in camp. If I’ve worn low-cut, breathable shoes hiking, I don’t bother bringing camp footwear. But I’ll wear hiking shoes in camp with the laces untied and loosened and tongue pulled up, more like slippers, to keep my feet cool and dry.

By the way, taking care of my feet demands all-day attention. See my “8 Pro Tips for Preventing Blisters When Hiking,” including the great tips and suggestions from readers in the comments section at the bottom of that story.

Planning a backpacking trip? See “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips
and “10 Tips for Taking Kids on Their First Backpacking Trip.”

 

Teenage backpackers cooling off in Hidden Lake, Sawtooth Mountains, Idaho.
My teenage son, Nate, and buddies Elias and Sam cooling off in Hidden Lake, Sawtooth Mountains, Idaho. Click photo to read about that trip.

#2 Take Care of My Body

Carrying weight on your back for miles taxes most people physically. I’ve learned from scores of backpacking trips, whether my pack is heavy or ultralight, that I’m going to feel significantly better that evening and the next morning and sleep much better if I spend about 10 to 20 minutes stretching soon after I stop hiking for the day, while muscles are still warm.

You don’t need an elaborate routine, just a handful of stretches focused on the major muscle groups you’ve been working hard: quads, hamstrings, (definitely) calves, and your core, including your back, sides, plus shoulders and neck. There are plenty of resources online suggesting specific stretches; I also talk about my stretching routine in my story “Training For a Big Hike or Mountain Climb.”

I know it sounds like an effort you don’t want to bother making but try it on your next trip—once you start, you may like it enough to just continue. And like me, you might find it habit-forming.

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Backpackers in North Puyallup camp on the Wonderland Trail, Mount Rainier National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm and Todd Arndt in North Puyallup camp on the Wonderland Trail, Mount Rainier National Park. Click photo for my expert e-book to backpacking the Wonderland Trail.

#3 Change Clothes

After washing off the dirt and dried sweat, I’ll put on the dry base layers I’ve brought. (My story “A Practical Guide to Lightweight and Ultralight Backpacking” details what I usually carry for clothing.) Then I’ll dry out my hiking clothes, which I’ll wear again the next day, either by hanging them in sunshine or, if they’re only damp (not too wet), pulling them on over my dry layers to let my body heat dry them without having the damp layer against my skin. If it’s cool or windy enough to wear a jacket, it works very well to dry out a damp base layer by wearing it under a breathable shell.

In warm temperatures, I’ll just remain in my damp hiking clothes until my body heat dries them out (often while stretching and pitching my tent), and then change into my extra clothes. On many trips in mild temperatures, my “extra clothes” consist simply of a second base layer top and insulation; I’ll often only have one pair of zip-off pants, so I’ll wear those to dry them and perhaps just zip the legs on.

See my picks for “The Best Base Layers, Shorts, and Socks for Hiking and Running,” “5 Tips For Staying Warm and Dry While Hiking,” and “How to Prevent Hypothermia While Hiking and Backpacking.”

Which puffy should you buy? See “The 12 Best Down Jackets” and
How You Can Tell How Warm a Down Jacket Is.”

Backpackers cooking in the backcountry of the Glacier Peak Wilderness, Washington.
Jeff and Jasmine Wilhelm ready for hot nourishment in the Glacier Peak Wilderness. Click photo to read about that trip.

#4 Replenish Depleted Body Reserves

Dinner may not happen for a while, but I need to replace some of what my body has depleted sooner than that—mostly fluids, sodium, fat, and electrolytes. In warm temperatures, the first thing I often do is add a powdered energy-drink mix to a liter of water to consume over the next hour (beginning while I’m stretching). After I’ve finished steps 1 through 3 above, I’ll eat an appetizer that delivers what I’m craving—fat and sodium. I typically like crackers, cheese, and pepperoni or salami, nuts, maybe some chocolate. In cooler temperatures, I’ll fire up the stove and boil water for hot tea or cocoa or instant soup.

Getting rehydrated and starting to refill my body’s fuel tank, combined with the stretching, make a huge difference in my energy level and greatly help reduce any stiffness that evening and when I hit the trail again the next morning.

As a side note, in some parks with grizzly bears, like Glacier National Park, the first thing I do when reaching a campsite is actually required by park management: Hanging food properly as a precaution against bears.

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A hiker atop Half Dome, Yosemite National Park.
Mark Fenton atop Half Dome, Yosemite National Park. “The Best First Backpacking Trip in Yosemite” is one of my most popular expert e-books. Click photo to see them all.

#5 Set Up Camp

Assuming that foul weather hasn’t forced us to immediately pitch the tent upon arriving in camp, I now unload my pack, set up the tent, inflate my air mattress and lay out my bag to let it loft up, and break out kitchen gear, water filter, and anything else I will need. I almost invariably carry a lightweight camp chair (one of my “25 essential backpacking accessories”), which is far more comfortable than sitting on a rock or log—meaning my body will feel better when I’m going to sleep later and putting on my pack again the next morning.

At some point during the evening, I’ll figure out how much water I need to leave camp with in the morning and fill my bladder or bottles, to help expedite an early departure the next day, because in summer, I usually like an early start to hike in cooler temperatures.  See my “5 Tips for Getting Out of Camp Faster When Backpacking.”

These five steps don’t require much time or effort. But they make my evening, night, next morning—and really, my entire backpacking trip—much more enjoyable.

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BONUS TIP: You won’t feel good the next day without a good night’s sleep. See “10 Pro Tips For Staying Warm in a Sleeping Bag,” plus all reviews of sleeping bags and air mattresses at The Big Outside.

Do you have any regular practices you have when you get into camp on backpacking trips? Please share them or your thoughts on my tips in the comments section below.

Whether you’re a beginner or seasoned backpacker, you’ll learn new tricks for making all of your trips go better in my “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” A Practical Guide to Lightweight and Ultralight Backpacking,” and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.” With a paid subscription to The Big Outside, you can read all of those three stories for free; if you don’t have a subscription, you can download the e-book versions of “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” the lightweight and ultralight backpacking guide, and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”

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How to Plan Food for a Backpacking Trip https://thebigoutsideblog.com/how-to-plan-food-for-a-backpacking-trip/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/how-to-plan-food-for-a-backpacking-trip/#comments Tue, 15 Jul 2025 09:01:54 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=48032 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

You’re planning food for a backpacking trip—maybe for yourself or perhaps for your family or a small group of friends—and you have questions about how to do it. How much food do you need? What food should you bring? How complicated or simple do you want to make it? How do your food choices affect how much stove fuel you will need—or do you even need a stove? Drawing on decades of backpacking experience, this article will lay out some general guidelines and detailed advice that will help you plan food for all your backpacking trips.

Over the course of more than three decades and thousands of miles of backpacking all over the United States and around the world—including the 10 years I spent as Northwest Editor of Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog—I have eaten countless meals in the backcountry and greatly refined my food planning over time.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A backpacker at a wilderness campsite off the Highline Trail in Wyoming's Wind River Range.
Our camp below Mount Oeneis and Sky Pilot Peak off the Highline Trail in the Wind River Range.

I’ll offer this caveat in advance: I’m not someone who feels a great desire to eat “gourmet” style in the backcountry. I certainly want food that tastes good and is satisfying. If you’re not hiking far, it’s easier to carry a little more and spend time preparing special meals. I tend to hike all day, sometimes very long days, so I don’t want to spend much time in food preparation (or cleanup) in camp.

That said, I do spend adequate time planning my food for a trip, but that’s mostly so that I’m packing the right amount of food that I like.

Click any photo to read about that trip or place. Like many stories at The Big Outside, part of this one is free for anyone to read, but reading all the tips in this story requires a paid subscription. If you’re already a subscriber, thank you for supporting my blog.

Please share your thoughts or questions about my tips or any tricks of your own that help you plan food for your backpacking trips in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

Plan your next great backpacking trip on the Teton Crest Trail, Wonderland Trail,
in Yosemite or other parks using my expert e-books.

Watching the sunset from a campsite in the North Fork Cascade Canyon, Grand Teton National Park.
Watching the sunset from a campsite in the North Fork Cascade Canyon on the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park.

1. Keep It Simple

This comes down to personal preference and mine places a high priority on efficiency and minimal time and effort. I prefer hiking, taking a dip, or simply lounging in camp with my companions over cooking.

My priorities when planning food for backpacking are:

1. Replace calories burned during the day, as much as possible, understanding that you can’t always accomplish that after hiking all day. But on a typical backpacking trip of a week or less, you’re not likely to run into a big energy or caloric deficit.
2. Keep it simple, not time consuming in the backcountry. Hot meals that require only boiling water—not any cooking time in the pot—have the advantage of eliminating a cleanup task and consuming less fuel, enabling you to reduce fuel weight.
3. Minimize pack weight, recognizing that food weight is a significant portion of my total pack weight but also that food weight drops every day. Eat your heaviest food and meals early in a trip and save the lightest for later in a trip because you will carry those meals farther.

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2. Plan Exactly What You’ll Eat

I know it’s heresy among many backpackers to caution against carrying too much food, and it’s fine and even prudent to carry a little extra, especially on long, remote trips when there’s some uncertainty about when you’ll finish. But as a rule, I always plan specifically what I’ll eat every day and weigh my food; otherwise, I’m guaranteed to carry much more than I’ll eat.

In over more than three decades of backpacking, I can probably count on the fingers of one hand how many times I’ve run out of food before the end of a trip, and it has never been a disaster. Far more times, I’ve carried at least a couple pounds of food throughout a trip without ever touching it, and a few pounds of superfluous weight represent the equivalent of carrying two extra sleeping bags or three or four rain shells.

In reality, on most backpacking trips, you’re rarely out longer than expected, and if you run low on food, you’re probably only going a little hungry for the last day because you can usually get to a road within a day. I generally end a backpacking trip with very little food left.

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Whether you’re a beginner or seasoned backpacker, you’ll learn new tricks for making all of your trips go better in my “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” A Practical Guide to Lightweight and Ultralight Backpacking,” and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.” With a paid subscription to The Big Outside, you can read all of those three stories for free; if you don’t have a subscription, you can download the e-book versions of “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” the lightweight and ultralight backpacking guide, and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”

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Bear Essentials: How to Store Food When Backcountry Camping https://thebigoutsideblog.com/bear-essentials-how-to-store-food-when-backcountry-camping/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/bear-essentials-how-to-store-food-when-backcountry-camping/#comments Thu, 10 Jul 2025 09:00:21 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=45044 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

On our first night in the backcountry of Yosemite National Park on one of my earliest backpacking trips, two friends and I—all complete novices—hung our food from a tree branch near our camp. Unfortunately, the conifer trees around us all had short branches: Our food stuff sacks hung close to the trunk.

During the night, the predictable happened: We awoke to the sound of a black bear clawing up the tree after our food.

Despite our nervousness and incompetence, we somehow managed to shoo that black bear off, though not before it consumed a respectable portion of our food supply. But by virtue of having started out with way more food than we needed—another rookie mistake that, ironically, compensated for this more-serious rookie mistake (read my tips on not overpacking)—we made it through that hike without going hungry and ultimately had a wonderful adventure.

And we went home with a valuable lesson learned.


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A black bear along the Sol Duc River Trail in Olympic National Park.
A black bear along the Sol Duc River Trail in Olympic National Park.

I’ve learned much more about storing food properly in the backcountry over the more than three decades since that early trip, including the 10 years I spent as the Northwest Editor of Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog.

This article shares what I’ve learned about protecting food from critters like bears and, more commonly, mice and other small animals and some birds like ravens. Like many stories at The Big Outside, part of this one is free for anyone to read, but reading all the tips in this story requires a paid subscription. If you’re already a subscriber, thank you for supporting my blog.

Follow the tips below and you’ll not only save yourself and your party or family from going hungry, you might save a bear from developing a habit of seeing humans as sources of food, which too often leads to a bad outcome for that animal.

If you have any questions or tips of your own to share, please do so in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

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Backpackers admiring a big bear poop in Glacier National Park.
My friends Todd and Mark admiring a big bear poop in Glacier National Park. Click photo to read all of my stories about backpacking in Glacier.

Why Storing Food Properly Matters

Storing food properly when backpacking or anytime you’re in the backcountry is critical for several good reasons:

  1. Failing to do so risks losing some or all of your food to animals or having your food contaminated by animals that can transmit diseases, like mice, imperiling your trip and group.
  2. Public lands-management agencies often require proper food storage in the backcountry. In many national parks, you will receive instructions on storing food when picking up a backcountry permit.
  3. Improper food storage places you and your companions at risk of physical harm from large, potentially aggressive animals like bears—or at the least, a penalty or fine.
  4. Bears and other animals that become habituated to human food can become a nuisance, returning again and again to popular backcountry camping areas, threatening other people. Tragically, those bears may ultimately be destroyed by the management agency.

Follow the guidelines below for storing food when in the backcountry.

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Know the Rules About Food Storage

Food lockers in the backcountry camp at Floe Lake on the Rockwall Trail in Canada's Kootenay National Park.
Food lockers in the backcountry camp at Floe Lake on the Rockwall Trail in Canada’s Kootenay National Park.

In many U.S. national parks—including parks inhabited by grizzly bears, like Glacier and Yellowstone, and parks with only black bears, like Yosemite, Mount Rainier, and others—as well as in parks in the Canadian Rockies and elsewhere with large bear populations, some to most or even all backcountry camping is in assigned campgrounds that have poles or cables for hanging your food (bring stuff sacks) or metal lockers for storing food. Other parks, like Grand Teton, require bear canisters. On public lands with fewer regulations, management agencies often still recommend the use of any of a few common and widely accepted methods of protecting food from animals.

Keep Food Out of Your Tent

Whether in a place with grizzly or black bears, do not bring any food or items that smell of food (example: a shirt you spilled food onto) into your tent. Put any odorous items—including toothpaste, sunblock, ointment, etc.—with your stored food.

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A backpacker on the Tapeats Creek Trail in the Grand Canyon.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking a narrow section of the Tapeats Creek Trail in the Grand Canyon. Click photo to see”10 Epic Grand Canyon Backpacking Trips You Must Do.”

Wondering whether to hike solo in bear country? Read my tips about that.

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Backpacking Idaho’s White Cloud Mountains—A Photo Gallery https://thebigoutsideblog.com/photo-gallery-idahos-white-cloud-mountains/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/photo-gallery-idahos-white-cloud-mountains/#respond Thu, 10 Jul 2025 09:00:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=19328 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Picture a chain of peaks rising to over 11,000 feet, some composed of chalk-like rock that looks, from a distance, like snow. Scores of crystal-clear lakes above 9,000 feet ripple in the breeze and creeks run with trout and salmon. Mountain goats, elk, bighorn sheep, black bears, even gray wolves roam this wilderness. And backpackers find the kind of solitude you can’t find in many wild lands.

That’s the White Cloud Mountains of central Idaho. Put this relatively new American wilderness on your radar—and get there before every other backpacker discovers how gorgeous and quiet it still is, as you’ll see in the photos below from the backpacking trips and long dayhikes I’ve taken in the White Clouds, including to Quiet Lake, below the range’s highest peak, 11,815-foot Castle Peak (lead photo, above).


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Hikers on Trail 47 near 10,000-foot Castle Divide in the White Cloud Mountains, Idaho.
Scott White and Chip Roser on Trail 47 near 10,000-foot Castle Divide on a 28-mile dayhike in Idaho’s White Cloud Mountains.

After countless backpacking and hiking trips across the country over the past four decades, including the 10 years I spent as the Northwest Editor of Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog, I find myself drawn more and more to those places off the beaten path.

The White Clouds are that kind of place, less well-known but similar to the neighboring Sawtooth Mountains, which I rank among “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips.”

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See all stories about the White Clouds at The Big Outside, including “Exploring a Wilderness Hopeful: Idaho’s White Cloud Mountains” and “Head in the Clouds: Hiking in Idaho’s White Cloud Mountains.”

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Hiking the Kolob Canyons of Zion National Park https://thebigoutsideblog.com/photo-gallery-hiking-the-kolob-canyons-of-zion-national-park/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/photo-gallery-hiking-the-kolob-canyons-of-zion-national-park/#comments Wed, 09 Jul 2025 09:00:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=21908 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Hiking in the Kolob Canyons area of Zion National Park, you get down to business with five-star scenery with your first step from your car. At the Lee Pass Trailhead, Taylor Creek Trailhead, or the Kolob Canyons Viewpoint, you’re immediately greeted with views of crimson cliffs soaring hundreds of feet tall. Then it just keeps getting better.

Located in the far northwest corner of Zion, a one-hour drive and a world removed from the crush of tourists at the park’s south entrance in Springdale, the Kolob Canyons consist of a series of narrow, parallel canyons with walls up to 2,000 feet tall. Higher in elevation, it’s a cooler destination for hiking and backpacking when trails starting in Zion Canyon are too hot—not to mention considerably less crowded.


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I’ve backpacked with my family through the Kolob Canyons, started a 50-mile dayhike across Zion from there, and dayhiked the Taylor Creek Trail on a spring day when a thunderstorm bruised the sky above those red walls. The photo gallery below from Zion’s Kolob Canyons spotlights photos from those trips, and the video shows the view from Kolob Canyons Viewpoint and at Double Arch Alcove on the Taylor Creek Trail. You’ll find links to my Zion stories below the gallery and video.

The Kolob Canyons are just a few minutes’ drive from exit 40 on I-15, between Cedar City and St. George, Utah. The Taylor Creek Trail offers an easy and really scenic introductory hike: It’s five miles round-trip, gaining only 450 feet in elevation, to Double Arch Alcove, a pair of giant arches in the Navajo sandstone beneath the 1,700-foot-tall walls of Tucupit Tower and Paria Tower. The trail passes by two historic homestead cabins built in the early 1930s, the Larson Cabin and the Fife Cabin.

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For more photos and information about hiking in the Kolob Canyons, see my feature stories about a family backpacking trip and a 50-mile dayhike across the park, both of which began in the Kolob Canyons, and backpacking Zion’s Narrows, and a menu of all stories about Zion National Park at The Big Outside, including “The 10 Best Hikes in Zion National Park” and stories about hiking Angels Landing and Zion’s Subway.

You can also see a list of all stories about Zion by scrolling to the bottom of the All National Park Trips page at The Big Outside.

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Backpacking a CDT Sampler in Colorado’s Weminuche Wilderness https://thebigoutsideblog.com/backpacking-a-cdt-sampler-in-colorados-weminuche-wilderness/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/backpacking-a-cdt-sampler-in-colorados-weminuche-wilderness/#respond Tue, 08 Jul 2025 17:01:41 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=67638 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Warm, summer-like temperatures and mostly sunny skies greet us as we start hiking up the Williams Creek Trail in southwestern Colorado’s San Juan Mountains. Even in mid-September, the southern Rocky Mountains sun remains intense here, at over 9,000 feet. Its surprising warmth (compared to the northern Rockies) reminds me of days on the John Muir Trail or in Yosemite in August. But ominous clouds trot across the sky, some of them ripening to the color of a plum ready for picking, and the forecast calls for possible thunderstorms today and tomorrow.

In other words, it’s a pretty typical summer day in the Colorado Rockies.

We chat briefly with two guys hunting elk—the only people we’ll see all day. Otherwise, we have the very quiet forest, creek canyons, and meadows to ourselves on our long climb of almost 3,000 feet in over eight miles to sprawling meadows along the Middle Fork Piedra River. We find a patch of open ground and pitch our tent a short walk from the “river”—here just a lively little creek inches deep at the end of summer.


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A backpacker hiking the Continental Divide Trail north toward Squaw Pass in the Weminuche Wilderness, San Juan Mountains, Colorado.
My wife, Penny, backpacking the Continental Divide Trail north toward Squaw Pass in the Weminuche Wilderness, San Juan Mountains, Colorado.

My wife, Penny, and I have come to Colorado’s San Juan Mountains to backpack a four-day loop of just over 30 miles, including a section of the Continental Divide Trail in the Weminuche Wilderness, along which we’ll often be hiking and camping at just under or over 12,000 feet. And at this time of year, although summer continues to hang on in the southern Rockies, we will see very few other backpackers, and most of them solitary CDT thru-hikers hurrying southbound to finish before the mountain winter sets in.

The temperature drops quickly—a reminder that it is, after all, September—as the sun gives us a nice light show in the final minutes of our first day out here. At some point in the dark, early-morning hours of our literally frosty, starry night, I awaken, pull on a fleece hoodie, and burrow deeply inside my sleeping bag, happy that I brought a very warm 15-degree bag. In the morning, we find ice crystals in our water bottles.

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The Continental Divide Trail in the Weminuche Wilderness

On our second morning, we hit the trail while the valley bottom remains in the long shadow of a ridge and Penny and I both remain in warm layers. But before long, we reach the welcome sunshine in the vast meadows at the head of this valley. We stride across the Middle Fork Piedra River with a single rock hop—and find no visible trail on the other side. It has disappeared.

Fortunately, I have our route on a GPS app, so we follow its invisible course until relocating a visible path zigzagging uphill in the thin conifer forest growing at around 11,000 feet—something you don’t really see in the northern Rockies. At the CDT junction, we find a small and rather hidden sign nailed to a tree that reads “Indian Creek Trail” (the intermittent path we just hiked up). Nothing indicating that we’ve reached one of the country’s three major long trails. But the CDT is a mostly good trail here, obvious and only occasionally overgrown by a small conifer’s branches crowding over it.

Hiking uphill at over 11,000 feet slows us down and feels hard to people who live much lower than this. The trail gains the ridge crest, which we follow while buffeted by strong gusts, with views of grassy meadows, green valleys, and mountain ridges on both sides. 

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A backpacker hiking the Continental Divide Trail north toward Squaw Pass in the Weminuche Wilderness, San Juan Mountains, Colorado.
My wife, Penny, backpacking the Continental Divide Trail in the Weminuche Wilderness, San Juan Mountains, Colorado. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan this or any trip you read about at this blog.

When a thunderstorm strikes abruptly—our only warnings of its fast approach were two peels of thunder, minutes apart, the second startling us and sounding like a missile detonating just overhead—we’re ready in our rain shells, with rain covers on our packs. Pelted by rain and hail, we walk around the headwall of a small cirque, below bands of cliffs and above lush greenery that cascades down the valley below us.

At the other side of the cirque, we see tiny Cherokee Lake, like an inviting eye at 11,600 feet below heavily eroded and fluted, mud-brown cliffs. After just a few minutes of considering our options, the prospect of continuing in this weather holds no appeal and we walk off the trail down to an obviously previously used campsite, large enough for one tent, maybe 300 feet from the lake.

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Cherokee Lake along the Continental Divide Trail in the Weminuche Wilderness, San Juan Mountains, Colorado.
Cherokee Lake along the Continental Divide Trail in the Weminuche Wilderness, Colorado. Click photo to see more photos of the most gorgeous wilderness lakes I’ve ever seen.

We pitch our tent in the storm, keeping the interior dry, get our gear inside, and hunker down to wait for the waves of showers to pass. Then we emerge to sunshine and enjoy a period of calm by the lake, having dinner and admiring the lake’s mirror image of the cliffs and the few, scrawny conifers along one shore. But after the sun turns in for the night, the wind kicks up again. Gusts perhaps as high as 40 miles per hour buffet the tent all night.

On the CDT this afternoon, Penny had said to me, “I can’t believe, on this trail, we’ve seen no one.” Indeed, we saw no other people all day, only one tent in the upper meadows of the Middle Fork Piedra River, its occupants apparently still inside when we passed by in early morning. Of course, it is the middle of the week in the middle of September, with some nights dropping below freezing in the mountains. That tends to dissuade a lot of backpackers.

During the night, well after the half-moon set, I step outside to the sight of a black sky alive with stars and the faint skein of the Milky Way.

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Our Only Company: CDT Thru-Hikers

The chilly, early-morning wind continues blowing hard as we hit the trail on our third morning, again suited up for warmth. After a short uphill slog that impresses us with how hard it feels at this elevation, we stroll around the edge of a green, grassy meadow littered with rocks, perhaps a mile long and a half-mile across. We see elk scat everywhere along the trail, as we did in last night’s camp. Unfortunately, we are, of course, too late in summer for Colorado’s famous blooms of mountain wildflowers.

The Continental Divide Trail may mean different things to different people, but it’s nothing if not a highlights tour of the Rockies, including here in Colorado. We cross meadows that almost look as if they were designed by a landscape architect; traverse narrow footpaths across the face of rock walls; and pass through notches in ridges to an entirely new, sweeping canvas of mountains, meadows, cliffs, and now and then, even up this high, a lake or two.

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A backpacker hiking the Continental Divide Trail north toward Cherokee Lake in the Weminuche Wilderness, San Juan Mountains, Colorado.
My wife, Penny, backpacking the Continental Divide Trail north toward Cherokee Lake in the Weminuche Wilderness, Colorado. Click photo to join and get access to ALL stories at The Big Outside.

The Rockies show many different faces over their span of North America—differing from Colorado to Wyoming’s Wind River Range and Tetons, Idaho’s Sawtooths and White Clouds, and Montana’s Glacier National Park, to name just a handful of places. But in Colorado, the Rockies look like the child who grew up to be the biggest person in a family of big people.

These mountains dwarf all others in the continental U.S. (with the exception of the High Sierra, which also have a definitive look all their own; and you can point to Mount Rainier, of course, but most of the Cascade Range doesn’t exceed 9,000 feet). They project immensity and boundlessness, defying any hopes for seeing more than a tiny corner of them from any high point even on the CDT in the Colorado Rockies. Their highest elevations on trails reduce you to panting if you try to drink water while walking at an easy pace even on flat ground. They make your legs feel like you’ve already hiked 33 miles that day rather than just three.

As we walk downhill toward a pass on the CDT, in search of a campsite for our last night, a backpacker motors up the trail in our direction—by her strong pace, lean frame, and light pack, obviously a thru-hiker, and a rare CDT southbounder. As she gets within conversation distance, she smiles and says, “wow, people!” I laugh and tell her she’s the first person we’ve seen in two days. In her twenties, I’m guessing, she’s from Estonia and, indeed, thru-hiking the CDT. She hiked the PCT a few years ago, so she’s got chops. She’s only covered 20 miles so far today, a light day compared to her usual 25, due to a sore foot. We chat a bit and wish her well. Looks like she’s got everything under control.

See “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips
and “10 Tips for Taking Kids on Their First Backpacking Trip.”

 

The Gear I Used See my reviews of the outstanding backpack, sleeping bag, rain jacket, down jacket, fleece hoodie, stove, and headlamp I used on this trip.

Find the best gear, expert buying tips, and best-in-category reviews at my Gear Reviews page.

See my stories “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be” and “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” and this menu of all stories offering expert backpacking tips at The Big Outside.

Want my help planning the details of this trip, including an itinerary appropriate for your group? See my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you plan this or any trip you read about at this blog.

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8 Pro Tips For Preventing Blisters When Hiking https://thebigoutsideblog.com/7-pro-tips-for-avoiding-blisters/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/7-pro-tips-for-avoiding-blisters/#comments Tue, 08 Jul 2025 09:00:23 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=6492 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

I deserve to be plagued by blisters. I field test several models of hiking, backpacking, and trail-running shoes and boots every year. I’m constantly wearing new footwear right out of the box, often hiking 15 to 20 miles or more miles a day—usually without doing anything more than trying them on, virtually never allowing for any break-in time. And I almost never get a blister. Best of all, the tricks I use to avoid them are simple and easy for anyone to follow.

This article shares the methods I’ve learned over more than three decades (and counting) of dayhiking and backpacking, including the 10 years I spent as a field editor for Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


First of all, remember that blisters require three conditions to occur: heat, moisture, and friction. Eliminate any one of those factors and you prevent blisters.

Simple, right? Well, not always. But blisters are a problem you can control. I’ve listed below the strategies I follow to dramatically reduce the occurrence of blisters. Like many stories at The Big Outside, part of this one is free for anyone to read, but reading all the tips in this story requires a paid subscription. If you’re already a subscriber, thank you for supporting my blog.

Be sure to read the comments at the bottom of this story, where readers have offered their own excellent suggestions. Please share your suggestions or questions. I try to respond to all comments.

A backpacker's heel blister in the Canadian Rockies.
A backpacker’s heel blister in the Canadian Rockies. Click photo to read about backpacking in the Canadian Rockies.

1. Buy Boots That Fit

Friction happens when your shoes or boots don’t fit your feet well. Eliminate friction through perfect fit, and you eliminate blisters. Buy footwear in a store where the staff knows how to measure your foot size. Try on a variety of brands because they all fit slightly differently; find the brand that fits your feet best. Until you’ve tried on several models, it’s difficult to even recognize the subtle differences between a pretty good fit and an ideal fit.

If the best boots you find still don’t fit perfectly, try after-market insoles to customize the fit. But in reality, almost anyone should be able to find shoes or boots that fit well; you just have to look hard enough. If your feet are unusually large or wide or narrow or have a high or low arch, find the brands that offer a size range and fit that matches your feet. Don’t settle for less than very good fit.

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A backpacker on the John Muir Trail hiking toward Silver Pass in the John Muir Wilderness.
Mark Fenton backpacking the John Muir Trail toward Silver Pass in the John Muir Wilderness, High Sierra. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan your JMT hike or any trip you read about at tihis blog.

2. Keep Your Feet Dry

This may be the easiest and most effective strategy I employ: Whenever I stop for a break of 10 minutes or more, I take off my boots and socks and let them and my feet dry out—eliminating or at least minimizing heat and moisture. As simple as that. Bonus benefit: It feels good, especially if I have an opportunity to cool my feet in a stream or lake (and then thoroughly dry them before putting my socks and shoes back on).

Another strategy for keeping feet cooler and drier is employing what pros in the footwear industry call the “chimney effect:” Roll the tops of your socks down over the collar of your boots, which channels air down into your boot and helps release heat and moisture from your feet.

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A hiker on the West Rim Trail above Zion Canyon in Zion National Park.
David Ports hiking the West Rim Trail on a 50-mile dayhike across Zion National Park.

3. Carry Extra Socks

If your feet get chronically sweaty, change into clean, dry socks midway through a day of hiking. Wear wool or wool-blend socks that wick moisture and dry quickly. (Cottons socks hold moisture and virtually guarantee you blisters.) Try to wash any dirt and sweat from your feet in a creek and dry them completely before putting on the clean socks.

Tuck the damp socks under a pack strap or inside a mesh exterior pocket on your pack to dry them out (not balled up, or they won’t dry), in case you need to swap to them again.

See “The 25 Best National Park Dayhikes
and “Extreme Hiking: America’s Best Hard Dayhikes.”

A hiker's shoes in North Cascades National Park.
Click on photo to read “Expert Tips for Buying the Right Hiking Boots.”

4. Wear Lightweight, Non-Waterproof Footwear

Any footwear with a waterproof-breathable membrane is not as breathable as shoes or boots with mesh uppers and no membrane—which also dry much faster if they do get wet. If you’re generally dayhiking in dry weather, why do you need waterproof boots? It may seem counterintuitive, but non-waterproof shoes or boots may keep your feet drier by not causing them to sweat as much.

That’s especially important when dayhiking or backpacking longer days: Double or triple the distance and you also double or triple the number of steps you take and the amount of friction on your feet, and greatly increase the number of hours your feet are potentially getting hot and sweaty inside footwear. Keeping them dry becomes critical on big days—and may be your last line of defense against blisters.

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A backpacker hiking the Teton Crest Trail on Death Canyon Shelf, Grand Teton National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking the Teton Crest Trail, Grand Teton National Park. Click photo for my expert e-books to the Teton Crest Trail and other classic hikes.

5. Adjust Laces on the Trail

Shoe and boot laces often loosen up while hiking. Your feet and ankles move differently and endure different pressure points depending on the terrain, steepness, and whether you’re walking uphill or downhill. Feet can also swell slightly during a hike. Lacing footwear properly at the outset of a hike and retying during the day can alleviate the slippage and pressure points that cause friction.

First of all, shoes or boots should always be laced up snugly enough for comfort and to prevent slippage: For example, your ankle and toes should not rub, and your foot should not slip forward or backward (potentially jamming your toes). If you feel any rubbing or hot spot, adjust the lacing to achieve a closer fit.

Before starting a long descent, lace up snugly to prevent your toes banging against the front of the boots. With mid-cut or high boots, it can sometimes increase comfort (and help cool your feet) to loosen upper laces for a long uphill climb; but if you do that, make sure the laces are snug below your ankle, to avoid rubbing and slippage.

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Sahale Glacier Camp, North Cascades National Park
Sahale Glacier Camp in North Cascades National Park is one of my 25 favorite backcountry campsites. Click photo to see them all.

NOTE: As I mentioned at the top of this story, be sure to read the comments below, where readers have offered their own excellent suggestions. Offer your own comment on this story, or your best tip, and thanks to everyone who’s contributed to my tips on preventing blisters.

See also my “Pro Tips For Buying the Right Hiking Boots,” all reviews of hiking shoes and backpacking boots at The Big Outside.

Whether you’re a beginner or seasoned backpacker, you’ll learn new tricks for making all of your trips go better in my stories “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be,” “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” and “A Practical Guide to Lightweight and Ultralight Backpacking.” With a paid subscription to The Big Outside, you can read all of those three stories for free; if you don’t have a subscription, you can download the e-book versions of “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” the lightweight and ultralight backpacking guide, and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”

See all stories with expert tips on backcountry skills at The Big Outside.

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How to Get a Last-Minute, National Park Backcountry Permit https://thebigoutsideblog.com/how-to-get-a-last-minute-national-park-backcountry-permit/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/how-to-get-a-last-minute-national-park-backcountry-permit/#comments Sat, 05 Jul 2025 09:01:45 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=23629 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

You really want to backpack in Yosemite, Glacier, Grand Teton, Rocky Mountain, Mount Rainier, Grand Canyon, or another hugely popular national park this year—but you didn’t apply to reserve a wilderness permit months ago? Well, you just may be in luck: Most parks have a system for getting a last-minute permit. It requires jumping through some hoops, understanding the system’s ins and outs, good timing, patience, and a bit of luck, but many backpackers get permits without a reservation every year.

This article shares the tricks I’ve learned from numerous backpacking trips to major national parks over more than three decades, including the 10 years I spent as Northwest Editor of Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog. These tricks have helped me get a last-minute, or walk-in backcountry permit even in very popular national parks like Yosemite, Grand Teton, Glacier, Zion, Grand Canyon, and others.

Follow these tips and you just might go backpacking in a classic national park this year.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A backpacker in the Narrows in Zion National Park.
David Gordon backpacking the Narrows in Zion National Park.

Most parks offer walk-in, or first-come backcountry or wilderness permits, which is simply a permit that you obtain, without a reservation, based on availability, often no more than a day in advance of starting a multi-day hike—but sometimes a bit further in advance, such as in Yosemite, which issues walk-in permits up to seven days in advance.

The number of walk-in permits varies between parks, and availability is affected by advance permit reservations. But in general, parks set aside anywhere from 20 percent (in Grand Canyon), 30 percent (in Glacier), or one-third (in Mount Rainier) to 40 percent (in Yosemite), half (in Zion), and even two-thirds (in Grand Teton) of available permits or campsites to be issued, in most cases, no more than a day in advance.

For starters, go to any park’s website and find out its procedure for obtaining a walk-in permit—especially where and when to do so. Demand for permits typically varies between different areas in the most popular parks—meaning that you may find permits available but perhaps not for the trip you had in mind; so it helps to familiarize yourself with different areas of the park’s backcountry and arrive there with options in mind.

Beyond that first step, four strategies are key to snagging a walk-in backcountry permit. Share your thoughts or questions about my tips—or offer your own tips—in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments. Click any photo to read about that trip.

Don’t like the uncertainty of trying for a walk-in permit? I’ve helped many readers of my blog secure a backcountry permit reservation during the summer backpacking season, even after they had tried and failed. See my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you do that.

Wondering where you can still go now without needing a permit reservation?
See “20 Great Backpacking Trips You Can Still Take in 2025.”

A backpacker and mountain goats near Lincoln Pass in Glacier National Park.
Jerry Hapgood encountering mountain goats near Lincoln Pass in Glacier National Park.

#1 Go When Most People Don’t

Early or mid-July through Labor Day is the peak hiking season in most mountain ranges. Naturally, summer is when competition for walk-in permits is stiffest.

A backpacker on the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park.

After Labor Day, though, the number of people seeking backcountry permits drops off dramatically in many parks, especially in the higher mountains of the West—partly because the summer vacation season has ended for many people, and partly because snow can fall in September.

But I’ve backpacked (and dayhiked) many times in September and even October in Western parks, including Yosemite, Glacier, Grand Teton, North Cascades, Mount Rainier, Olympic, and Yellowstone, in glorious, late-summer weather, with sunny, mild days and nights in the 30s to 40s Fahrenheit—although you should prepare for lows below freezing—and seen surprisingly few people on the trails, considering how pleasant it often is out there then.

I’ve long been in the habit of planning a roughly weeklong backpacking trip in the mountains for every September—it’s my favorite month because the weather is often good, bugs are generally gone, and permits are easier to get.

Backpacking in September or October certainly makes it even more imperative that you prepare for any weather, and accept the chance that a severe storm could force you to cancel your plans—or to simply go somewhere else. Still, in my experience, even when planning far enough in advance to book flights to a distant park—and thus, too early to know what to expect for weather—my September trips have had great weather most of the time.

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The Kolob Canyons Viewpoint in Zion National Park.
The Kolob Canyons Viewpoint in Zion National Park.

#2 Go Where Most People Don’t

In many popular national parks, a few trails, trailheads, and areas attract the vast bulk of demand by backpackers. Examples include Yosemite’s core between Yosemite Valley and Tuolumne Meadows (including Half Dome and the northernmost section of the John Muir Trail); the Teton Crest Trail and Cascade and Paintbrush canyons in Grand Teton; the Highline Trail and Northern Loop in Glacier; the Narrows in Zion; the Wonderland Trail at Mount Rainier; the High Sierra Trail in Sequoia; the High Divide-Seven Lakes Loop in Olympic; and the Grand Canyon’s South Kaibab, North Kaibab, and Bright Angel trails.

But in those same parks, vast areas—sometimes more remote and difficult to reach, but sometimes simply not as well known—receive far less demand, making it easier to secure a permit for them (whether walk-in or advance). With a park that provides current availability of backcountry campsites online, you can see which areas are the most popular, and avoid them, or at least have alternate hiking itineraries ready if you don’t get a popular hike (see tip no. 3).

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Looking northeast from Mule Pass in Yosemite National Park.
Looking northeast from Mule Pass in remote northern Yosemite.

See my All National Park Trips page for a lengthy list of stories, many of them about backpacking trips that are less well-known. A few of my favorites include:

• In Yosemite, the vast wilderness north of Tuolumne Meadows (see my e-book to that trip) and another hike I wrote about in my story “Yosemite’s Best-Kept Secret Backpacking Trip.”
• The Southern Olympic Coast.
• Bowman Lake to Kintla Lake and other options in Glacier.
The Northern Loop at Mount Rainier.
• A 40-mile loop from the Mineral King area in Sequoia.
• The Kolob Canyons in Zion.
The Maze District in Canyonlands.
• The Royal Arch Loop, the Gems Route, the Clear Creek Trail and Utah Flats Route, and the New Hance Trail to Grandview Point in the Grand Canyon.
Spring Canyon in Capitol Reef.

Planning your next big adventure? See “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips
and “Tent Flap With a View: 25 Favorite Backcountry Campsites.”

 

A family backpacking Chimney Rock Canyon in Capitol Reef National Park.
My family backpacking Chimney Rock Canyon in Capitol Reef National Park.

Along those lines, there are national parks like North Cascades and Capitol Reef, many parks in the Midwest, and nearly every park in Alaska, where backpacker demand remains so low that walk-in permits are easy to obtain. These parks have scenery just as beautiful as the flagship parks at the top of your list. If you don’t have flexibility in your vacation dates and don’t want to risk having to wait more than a day for a walk-in permit, go to one of these parks for an adventure just as memorable as any other.

See my stories “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips” and “How to Decide Where to Go Backpacking.”

Not sure how to plan a trip? Don’t have time?
Click here now to get my expert help planning your next trip.

A backpacker at Park Creek Pass, North Cascades National Park.
Todd Arndt at Park Creek Pass in North Cascades National Park.

#3 Keep Your Group Small

None of us wants to leave out our favorite backpacking partners, but the hard truth is that the larger your group, the harder it will be to get a permit, whether a walk-in a day in advance or a permit reservation months in advance. This simple statistical reality is based on availability—there are a limited number of backcountry campsites available for walk-in permits, and some of those sites may only have space for two or four people. Plus, many parks define backpacking parties larger than six or seven people as “groups” that require a larger campsite, and so-called group sites are often far less numerous than standard backcountry campsites.

Keep your party to four or less, and you will significantly improve your chances of getting a last-minute backcountry permit—possibly even for a popular route like the trip I consider the best first backpacking trip in Yosemite.

Plan your next great backpacking adventure in Yosemite, Grand Teton,
and other flagship parks using my expert e-books.

A young boy backpacking the Olympic coast near Strawberry Point, Olympic National Park.
My son, Nate, backpacking the Olympic coast near Strawberry Point, Olympic National Park.

#4 Get in Line Early

In most parks, a walk-in permit is exactly what it sounds like: You show up, get in line, and see what’s available when you reach the front of the line. At any popular park, that line usually starts forming a few hours before the backcountry center opens. Get up really early and be first in line. Dress warmly and bring a book, a hot drink, food, a folding chair, and a headlamp, and make sure you know in advance where to go so you don’t wander around in the dark.

However, Yosemite National Park more recently launched what I think is a very good model for managing last-minute permits, issuing 40 percent of all daily trailhead quotas for walk-in, or first-come wilderness permits seven days in advance of the date you want to start hiking. See “How to Get a Last-Minute Yosemite Wilderness Permit Now.”

Gear up smartly for your trips.
See a menu of all gear reviews and expert buying tips at my Gear Reviews page.

#5 Have a Few Trip Options Ready

Bright Angel Creek along the Grand Canyon's North Kaibab Trail.
Bright Angel Creek along the Grand Canyon’s North Kaibab Trail.

Come prepared with multiple hiking-itinerary options—you may not get your first choice. That can be as simple as reversing your route or having alternative campsite options for some nights, but should include, if possible, alternative routes. Ask a backcountry ranger’s advice on where to go—that person may point you to a great hike that you hadn’t considered and which is available for your dates.

Be prepared to start hiking either that day or the next day; or, if nothing’s available, to return early the next morning to get in line again for a permit starting the following day (although you can usually start your trip by the next day, except in parks with the highest demand for popular hikes, like Grand Canyon and Zion).

One Final Tip

Next year, plan months in advance. Mark your calendar now to remind yourself. See my “10 Tips For Getting a Hard-to-Get National Park Backcountry Permit” for my top insights, based on many trips in major parks over more than three decades. Try to make a reservation as soon as a park starts accepting them, or with parks that run lotteries for permits, enter them for one or more parks.

With luck, you’ll get at least one permit, and if you get more than one, well, that’s the kind of problem a lot of people would like to have.

See a menu of all stories sharing backcountry skills at The Big Outside.

Whether you’re a beginner or seasoned backpacker, you’ll learn new tricks for making all of your trips go better in my “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” A Practical Guide to Lightweight and Ultralight Backpacking,” and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.” With a paid subscription to The Big Outside, you can read all of those three stories for free; if you don’t have a subscription, you can purchase the e-book versions of “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” the lightweight and ultralight backpacking guide, and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”

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Backpacking the Ruby Crest Trail—A Photo Gallery https://thebigoutsideblog.com/photo-gallery-backpacking-the-ruby-crest-trail/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/photo-gallery-backpacking-the-ruby-crest-trail/#comments Fri, 04 Jul 2025 09:00:44 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=40742 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Under a hot sun, but with a nice breeze keeping us cool, on our second day backpacking the Ruby Crest Trail in Nevada’s Ruby Mountains, we made the slow, 1,700-foot climb from the North Fork of Smith Creek to a pass at over 10,000 feet. It was a grind and my family spread out along the trail. But reaching the pass, we all stopped and smiled, mesmerized by a breathtaking view of the small basin that cradles Overland Lake and the mountains extending for miles beyond it (photo above).

Although our trip’s first two days had already been very scenic from the first steps, that pass heralded the upcoming character and magnificence of the Ruby Crest Trail, which does largely hew to the crest of this very alpine mountain range. I had long had the Ruby Crest Trail on my radar, but it exceeded expectations, with almost constant, long vistas and some mountain lakes that are among the prettiest I’ve seen in more than three decades of backpacking, including the 10 years I spent as the Northwest Editor of Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A backpacker above Liberty Lake on the Ruby Crest Trail in Nevada's Ruby Mountains.
My wife, Penny, above Liberty Lake on the Ruby Crest Trail in Nevada’s Ruby Mountains.

My family backpacked a four-day, approximately 36-mile, south-to-north traverse of the Ruby Crest Trail, from Harrison Pass to Lamoille Canyon, in mid-July—a perfect time of year in the Rubies, with wildflowers blooming, moderate daytime temperatures and comfortably cool nights, and not as many mosquitoes as you’d see in many mountain ranges in July. But like many Western mountain ranges, the Rubies can be backpacked from sometime in July, when the highest sections of trail become mostly snow-free, well into September and, more rarely, in October.

If you are looking for a trip to take this summer, the Ruby Crest Trail offers easy logistics, with no permit reservation required and a relatively short shuttle between the north and south trailheads. And I can help you plan a trip on the Ruby Crest Trail. See my Custom Trip Planning page for details.

And it’s a beautiful hike. But I’ll let the photos below make that case.

I’ve helped many readers plan unforgettable backpacking and hiking trips.
Want my help with yours? Click here now.

In many respects, the Ruby Crest Trail compares favorably with some trips on my list of the top 10 best backpacking trips in America. And our campsite by Overland Lake in the Rubies earned a place on my list of top 25 favorite backcountry campsites of all time.

Read my feature story about this trip, “Backpacking the Ruby Crest Trail—A Diamond in the Rough,” at The Big Outside.

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10 Tips for Recovering from a Hard Hike or Mountain Climb https://thebigoutsideblog.com/10-tips-for-recovering-from-a-hard-hike-or-mountain-climb/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/10-tips-for-recovering-from-a-hard-hike-or-mountain-climb/#comments Wed, 02 Jul 2025 09:30:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=47495 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

You just finished a big dayhike, backpacking trip, mountain climb, or trail run convinced it was one of the best experiences of your life—and now your body seems to have mounted a loud protest of pain against it. And you wonder: Is this suffering necessary? The simple answer is no. Follow the tips in this article—or even just some of them—to greatly lessen the physical aches and pains that sometimes follow an outdoors adventure.

This article shares the methods I’ve learned over four decades of dayhiking, backpacking, climbing mountains, ultra-hiking, trail running, cycling, and backcountry and Nordic skiing, including three decades writing about such adventures as a past field editor for Backpacker magazine and running this blog.

Short of suffering an injury, much of the aches and pains that sometimes follow any taxing physical activity result from entirely normal processes taking place within our bodies as muscle cells go through their usual healing and strengthening processes. But there are many ways to counter and minimize that pain with little to no effort or cost.

Please share your tips or questions in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments. Click on any photo to read about that trip.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A hiker on her way up Thompson Peak, the highest in Idaho's Sawtooth Mountains.
My wife, Penny, hiking Thompson Peak (the summit in upper right of photo), the highest in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains.

1. Use the Right Gear

Poorly fitted boots or a pack will virtually guarantee to magnify your post-hike soreness in large muscles, your back and shoulders and possibly result in blistered or injured feet. Get a daypack or backpack and footwear that fit your body and are suited to your style of hiking and the conditions you’ll encounter.

A backpacker above Liberty Lake on the Ruby Crest Trail, Ruby Mountains, Nevada.
My wife, Penny, above Liberty Lake on the Ruby Crest Trail, Ruby Mountains, Nevada.

Avoid carrying more weight in your pack than feels comfortable to you: If it feels too heavy when you first put the pack on, it will probably only feel worse at the end of the hike.

See all reviews of lightweight hiking shoes and backpacking boots at The Big Outside, my picks for the best daypacks and backpacking packs and my “Expert Tips for Buying the Right Hiking Boots” and “5 Expert Tips For Buying the Right Backpacking Pack.”

Another gear tip: Use trekking poles. Backpackers, dayhikers, climbers, mountain runners, and others have figured out that, no matter how much weight you’re carrying, using poles reduces the strain, fatigue, and impact on your leg muscles and joints, feet, back—and lessens your chances of an accidental fall.

See “The Best Trekking Poles,” “How to Choose Trekking Poles,” and “10 Best Expert Tips for Hiking With Trekking Poles,” and The Big Outside’s Gear Reviews page for categorized menus of gear reviews and expert buying tips.

Plan your next great backpacking trip in Yosemite, Grand Canyon,
and other parks using my expert e-books.

Runners on the South Kaibab Trail in the Grand Canyon.
Marla Covey and Pam Solon running down the South Kaibab Trail on a 42-mile, rim-to-rim-to-rim run across the Grand Canyon and back.

2. Wear Compression Clothing

Compression socks, calf sleeves, shorts, and tights changed how I dress for dayhikes and trail runs, especially longer outings. I noticed the boost in my endurance and dramatic decrease in stiffness and soreness both during and after my first run wearing compression clothing. Now, I virtually never take a long run or hike today without wearing compression socks and shorts.

Two teenage girls hiking 13,528-foot Kings Peak in Utah's High Uintas Wilderness.
My daughter, Alex, and friend Adele Davis hiking 13,528-foot Kings Peak in Utah’s High Uintas Wilderness.

I’ll also often wear the socks and shorts for a few hours or more post-hike or run—or change into clean, dry compressions socks and shorts after a shower—for the noticeable, long-term recovery benefits that wearing them post-workout provides and how much better I feel the next day.

Compression clothing fits more tightly than standard socks or shorts, squeezing the legs (or arms) to improve blood and oxygen circulation—beneficial during and after exercise. In fact, compression socks and other clothing are so effective they are used to treat a variety of medical ailments related to blood circulation.

See “The Best Base Layers, Shorts, and Socks for Hiking and Running” and “The Best Sun Shirts.”

Planning your next big adventure? See “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips
and “Tent Flap With a View: 25 Favorite Backcountry Campsites.”

A backpacker hiking the Shadow Lake Trail in the Wind River Range, Wyoming.
Chip Roser backpacking the Shadow Lake Trail on “the best backpacking trip in the Wind River Range.”

3. Take Care of Your Feet

Think about this: The average person takes over 2,000 steps per mile when walking. A 10-mile hike entails over 20,000 steps, a 20-mile hike, over 40,000. In rugged terrain, where your steps may be shorter, that number will be even higher. I still recall our amazement when two friends and I thru-hiked the John Muir Trail in seven days—averaging about 31 miles per day—in seeing the pedometer that one friend wore recording over 70,000 steps on some days.

It should come as no surprise that hiking rugged terrain, with significant elevation gain and loss, takes a toll on your feet. Besides the repeated impact of all those steps, particularly on rocky ground, there always exists the risk of injuries ranging from routine blisters to more serious problems. But even on a good day, feet can feel achy by the end of a hike.

Take care of your feet before, during, and after a hike. If you tend to blister, pre-emptively tape sensitive spots like heels or toes. Keep your feet dry during a hike with habits as easy as pulling your shoes and socks off during a break. Afterward, give your feet some TLC, including flexing and stretching them and massaging the balls, arches, heels, and Achilles, all of which improves blood flow and just feels really good—especially on tired feet.

See my “8 Pro Tips for Preventing Blisters When Hiking.”

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A hiker atop Half Dome, high above Yosemite Valley in Yosemite National Park.
Mark Fenton atop Half Dome, high above Yosemite Valley in Yosemite National Park.

4. Cool Down

Many of us have had the unpleasant experience of ending a hike, run or mountain climb, immediately getting into a car for a long drive home—and emerging from the vehicle feeling like your body has skipped death and gone straight to rigor mortis. That results from small muscle tears, a normal physiological process that leads to the muscles healing and making themselves stronger.

While that phenomenon, known as Delayed Onset Muscle Soreness (DOMS), typically follows exercising at a greater intensity or duration than your muscles are accustomed to and can persist for 24 to 48 hours or longer, you can mitigate its severity with a practice that requires no additional effort or time.

Stopping abruptly at the end of a long hike, trail run, or mountain climb does not give muscles a chance to gradually adjust from an active to a resting state, causing them to stiffen up. Instead of walking or running at a hard pace all the way back to the trailhead, slow your pace to one where you’re breathing very easily for the last 20 minutes or more of your hike, giving muscles time to gradually cool down before you stop.

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A trekker at the Col de la Seigne on the Tour du Mont Blanc.
Inken Poszner at the windy Col de la Seigne on the Tour du Mont Blanc.

5. Rehydrate and Fuel Up

We all know that our bodies require water and food to get through a physical activity as sustained and taxing as hiking. Still, it’s remarkably easy to underestimate our needs. Even when deliberately drinking fluids and eating throughout a moderate day of hiking, we often finish at least slightly dehydrated and certainly hungry; a strenuous hike only compounds that deficit. And our muscles require water and nutrients to repair themselves.

Besides drinking and eating plenty during a hike—gulping water every 15 to 20 minutes and snacking every hour is a good guideline—recovery begins with quickly feeding your body what it craves: fluids, electrolytes, fat, protein, salt, and to some extent even carbohydrates to help restore levels of glycogen, which provides your body with a reserve of long-term energy.

I like to have a big bottle of an electrolyte drink and salty/fatty snacks immediately after a hike to start the process of giving my body the nourishment it demands.

I’ve helped many readers plan unforgettable backpacking and hiking trips.
Want my help with yours? Click here now.

Climbers approaching the East Face of Mount Whitney in the John Muir Wilderness, California.
Climbers approaching the East Face of Mount Whitney in the John Muir Wilderness, California.

See also “Training for a Big Hike or Mountain Climb,” “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be,” “A Practical Guide to Lightweight and Ultralight Backpacking,” and all stories offering expert hiking and backpacking tips at The Big Outside.

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Backpacking Utah’s High Uintas Wilderness—A Photo Gallery https://thebigoutsideblog.com/photo-gallery-backpacking-the-high-uintas-wilderness/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/photo-gallery-backpacking-the-high-uintas-wilderness/#respond Wed, 02 Jul 2025 09:05:20 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=53977 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Early on the third morning of a six-day hike through Utah’s High Uintas Wilderness, I walked to the shore of the Fourth Chain Lake at 10,900 feet, where we had camped. Its waters sat absolutely still, offering up a perfect, inverted reflection of the mountains. By that afternoon, we reached 11,700-foot Trail Rider Pass, our second high pass of the day, with a view that took the edge off our weariness. Behind us, the valley of Lake Atwood, which we had hiked up, stretched for miles; ahead lay our destination, Painter Basin (photo above), an expansive, almost barren plateau at 11,000 feet below the highest peak in Utah, Kings Peak.

In those first three days of hiking, we encountered a grand total of two other people—and a whole lot of majestic scenery.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


Teenage girls backpacking in Utah's High Uintas Wilderness.
My daughter, Alex, her friend, Adele, and my wife, Penny, backpacking in Utah’s High Uintas Wilderness.

On that trip, my family backpacked a six-day, nearly 50-mile loop through the High Uintas Wilderness—and “High” fits this place like a favorite, old sweater. Nearly all of our walk remained above 9,000 feet and at least half of it over 10,000 feet, including three passes over 11,000 and 12,000 feet. That’s higher than many multi-day hikes in the West, including much of Yosemite and the Teton Crest Trail, and it compares with (and provides good preparation for) backpacking the John Muir Trail and Wind River Range. On top of that, we summited 13,528-foot Kings Peak, Utah’s highest.

I returned to the High Uintas with my 24-year-old son during an unusual window of largely good weather in early October 2024. We backpacked nearly 60 miles, mostly on the Uinta Highline Trail, enjoying great camps, vast lake basins and 12,000-foot alpine passes, brilliant sunsets, night skies streaked with the glow of the Milky Way. Perhaps most uniquely, we enjoyed a degree of remoteness and solitude that feels like discovering buried treasure.

There are many reasons to explore the Uintas—which span nearly 60 miles in northeastern Utah, one of the rare U.S. mountain ranges that extend east-west—and I think the photos in this story might help persuade you.

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A backpacker at Porcupine Pass on the Uinta Highline Trail, High Uintas Wilderness, Utah.
My son, Nate, backpacking over Porcupine Pass on the Uinta Highline Trail, High Uintas Wilderness, Utah.

The Uinta Mountains are home to an estimated 2,000 lakes, all of Utah’s peaks over 13,000 feet, and more than half of the state’s 12,000-footers. Outside popular destinations like Kings Peak, many trails and summits see little traffic, even though many pose no greater challenge than non-technical, off-trail hiking. Do some research and you’ll discover peaks where years pass between summit visitors.

For backpackers and mountain climbers willing to put in the effort, in the High Uintas Wilderness—Utah’s largest wilderness area at over 450,000 acres—solitude is as plentiful as the wildflowers.

See my stories “Backpacking—and Sandbagging—Utah’s Uinta Highline Trail,” and “Tall and Lonely: Backpacking Utah’s High Uintas Wilderness,” and “Big Scenery, No Crowds: 10 Top Backpacking Trips for Solitude.” Those stories, like most stories about trips at The Big Outside, require a paid subscription to read in full, including my tips on planning those trips yourself.

I’ve helped many readers plan a great backpacking trip in the High Uintas and elsewhere.
Want my help with yours? Find out more here.

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How to Get a Last-Minute Yosemite Wilderness Permit Now https://thebigoutsideblog.com/how-to-get-a-last-minute-yosemite-wilderness-permit-now/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/how-to-get-a-last-minute-yosemite-wilderness-permit-now/#comments Tue, 01 Jul 2025 09:00:34 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=47276 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

You just decided you’d like to backpack in Yosemite this year and realized you’re months late in reserving a wilderness permit. What now? As it happens, one positive outcome of the pandemic was Yosemite National Park revising its procedure for obtaining a first-come or walk-in backpacking permit, making it possible to reserve one just a week in advance—meaning you no longer have to risk traveling to the park, standing in line and hoping for Lady Luck to smile (or frown) on you. Here’s how you can still grab a last-minute permit for backpacking in Yosemite this year.

Little wonder that the nation’s third national park, designated in 1890, sees enormous demand for wilderness permits and that most available permits get claimed months in advance. Unquestionably one of the 10 best backpacking destinations in America, its sprawling backcountry abounds in classic High Sierra scenery: high passes overlooking a sea of rocky peaks, meadows alive with wildflowers, and too many stunning mountain lakes, creeks, and waterfalls to count.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


Backpackers hiking over Clouds Rest in Yosemite National Park.
Backpackers hiking over Clouds Rest in Yosemite National Park. Click photo to read about this trip.

After numerous trips in Yosemite since my first more than three decades ago—many of them during the 10 years I spent as Northwest Editor of Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog—my biggest lesson has been that every time I believe I’ve seen the best that Yosemite has to offer, I take another trip and discover how much more natural beauty this park possesses.

See my expert e-books to three great backpacking trips in Yosemite and my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you plan a Yosemite trip or any trip you read about at The Big Outside. I’ve helped many readers of my blog navigate Yosemite’s permit process to find currently available permits for great multi-day hikes.

Please share your questions or suggestions in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

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A backpacker hiking to Burro Pass above Matterhorn Canyon, Yosemite National Park.
Todd Arndt backpacking to Burro Pass above Matterhorn Canyon, Yosemite National Park. Click photo to read about this trip.

Yosemite’s Wilderness Permit System

First of all—and keep this in mind for future trips—the best way to get a Yosemite wilderness permit for any backpacking trip in the park is by applying for one through the weekly lottery at recreation.gov/permits/445859 up to 24 weeks (168 days) in advance. The park makes 60 percent of permit reservations available on that timetable.

The most competition for permits—whether reserved or walk-in—centers on Yosemite’s core between Yosemite Valley and Tuolumne Meadows, including Half Dome and the northernmost section of the John Muir Trail.

But a permit for other areas of the park is much easier to get, including the biggest block of wilderness in Yosemite, north of Tuolumne Meadows, and another large chunk of backcountry in the park’s southeast corner, south of Tuolumne and east of Yosemite Valley.

Plan your next great backpacking adventure in Yosemite
and other flagship parks using my expert e-books.

A backpacker hiking Indian Ridge, overlooking Half Dome in Yosemite National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking Indian Ridge, overlooking Half Dome in Yosemite. Click photo to read about “Yosemite’s Best-Kept Secret Backpacking Trip.”

How to Get a Walk-in Yosemite Wilderness Permit

Yosemite sets aside the other 40 percent of daily trailhead quotas for walk-in, or first-come wilderness permits, made available at recreation.gov/permits/445859 at 7 a.m. Pacific Time seven days in advance of the date you want to start hiking. Popular trailheads usually fill within minutes, so be ready to make a reservation at 7 a.m. You can reserve a permit up to three days ahead of a start date—but most permits will be gone by then.

While getting a permit remains a challenge a week in advance, the system at least enables backpackers who didn’t apply months earlier to plan a trip about a week out and arrive at the park with the assurance of having a permit reservation. Many wilderness parks issue walk-in permits only in person no more than a day in advance of starting a trip—meaning you can travel there and not get what you want.

I’ve helped many readers plan an unforgettable backpacking trip in Yosemite.
Want my help with yours? Find out more here.

The Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne River in Yosemite National Park.
The Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne River in Yosemite National Park. Click photo for my expert e-book to this trip.

The park makes any unreserved permits available to obtain first-come, in person at wilderness centers only on the start date of the trip—but there are typically very few, if any, unused permits available. Show up at a wilderness center between 8 a.m. and 5 p.m. Find more information at nps.gov/yose/planyourvisit/wildpermits.htm, where the park warns: “Do not arrive at Yosemite expecting to get a walk-up wilderness permit. While any unreserved permits will be available in person at wilderness centers on the start date of the trip, few, if any, unused permits will be available.”

See all of this blog’s stories about backpacking in Yosemite, including “The 10 Best Backpacking Trips in Yosemite,” “How to Get a Yosemite or High Sierra Wilderness Permit,” “Backpacking Yosemite: What You Need to Know,” and “Where to Backpack First Time in Yosemite,” plus my “10 Tips For Getting a Hard-to-Get National Park Backcountry Permit.”

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A backpacker hiking to Vogelsang Pass in Yosemite National Park.
Todd Arndt hiking to Vogelsang Pass in Yosemite National Park. Click photo for my expert e-book “The Best Backpacking Trip in Yosemite.”
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How to Safely Cross a Stream When Hiking or Backpacking https://thebigoutsideblog.com/how-to-safely-cross-a-stream-when-hiking-or-backpacking/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/how-to-safely-cross-a-stream-when-hiking-or-backpacking/#respond Tue, 01 Jul 2025 09:00:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=59470 Read on

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In the ink-black darkness long before dawn on a morning in May, seven of us panned our headlamp beams over La Verkin Creek, deep in the Kolob Canyons of Utah’s Zion National Park, contemplating where—and whether—to cross it. Bloated and bellowing with spring snowmelt and brown with the silt of dirt torn violently from its banks, the creek charged past us with a force and noise level that could make any reasonable person question the wisdom of stepping into its path.

I had crossed La Verkin once before, backpacking this route with my young family when this was an easy rock-hop in early October. Now, during the high runoff of spring, it posed a much bigger challenge—and we needed to reach the other side to continue with our ambitious plan to hike 50 miles across Zion in one day. We stood there, all very experienced hikers, keenly aware of the danger of a fast-moving creek.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


Hikers fording La Verkin Creek in Zion National Park in the dark.
Shelley Johnson and David Ports fording La Verkin Creek in Zion National Park in the dark.

We scouted along the creek bank and within minutes found a wider, shallower spot just upstream, where everyone walked across La Verkin with the water never reaching above anyone’s knees. With patience and the knowledge of how to manage that potentially serious hazard, we reduced it to an easy obstacle.

Most backpackers, dayhikers, climbers, and other backcountry travelers will encounter unbridged creek or river crossings. These obstacles can vary greatly from easy rock-hops to fast, challenging, often-frigid fords or impassable whitewater. Deciding how to reach the other side safely—and if you should attempt it—will determine whether that episode passes without incident or turns into a situation where someone gets wet and perhaps dangerously cold, or devolves into a horrible disaster.

This story explains in detail how to plan for possible creek and river crossings before a trip, assess the relative hazard of any crossing for your group, and execute it safely. The strategies spelled out below draw from my experience of fording countless streams over more than three decades of backpacking, dayhiking, and climbing, including the 10 years I spent as a field editor for Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog.

A backpacker descending Death Hollow in southern Utah's Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument.
Todd Arndt backpacking down Death Hollow in southern Utah’s Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument.

Here’s my main takeaway about creek crossings: Respect the power of moving water because it will almost always push you harder and feel less secure than you expect. Plus, it’s a generally good rule of life to never underestimate any force that can carry your body beyond your control and immerse you in a medium where you cannot breathe.

Like many stories at this blog, part of this one is free for anyone to read but reading the entire story requires a paid subscription to The Big Outside. If you’re already a subscriber, thank you for supporting my blog.

Please share your thoughts on my tips, your questions, or your own tips in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments. Click on any photo to read about that trip.

Click here now to plan your next great backpacking adventure using my expert e-books.

 

A backpacker crossing Eliot Creek on the Timberline Trail around Oregon's Mount Hood.
Jeff Wilhelm crossing Eliot Creek on the Timberline Trail around Oregon’s Mount Hood.

Look at Streams When Planning Your Hike

When planning any backcountry trip, research well in advance about any unbridged water crossings and their typical seasonal levels and relative hazard and plan your trip accordingly. Many that are perfectly safe in summer and fall flow high, fast, and too dangerous to cross in spring and often into early summer, when widespread, deep snow melting rapidly raises water levels.

While stream levels are typically seasonal, the snowpack, rainfall, and temperatures over the preceding weeks and months will determine when any stream becomes safe to cross: They don’t just “open” on the same date every year.

Planning a trip for a time when creek levels may be dangerously high also runs the related risk of encountering significant snow cover on trails at higher elevations, rendering them hard to follow, miserable to hike when post-holing constantly in wet snow, or virtually impassable. In many mountain ranges in the U.S. West, trails above roughly 9,000 to 10,000 feet in elevation may not be largely snow-free until mid- or late July.

Right before your trip, check on the current creek and river levels with the management agency, backcountry ranger office, a local river guide service or gear shop, or an online river gauge if available.

Planning your next big adventure? See “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips
and “Tent Flap With a View: 25 Favorite Backcountry Campsites.”

 

A backpacker rock-hopping Evolution Creek on the John Muir Trail in Evolution Basin, Kings Canyon National Park.
David Ports rock-hopping Evolution Creek in low-water conditions on the John Muir Trail in Evolution Basin, Kings Canyon National Park.

Prepare in Advance

River and stream crossings can be challenging and very cold: In early summer, the water temperature may sit not much above freezing, having been snow just hours earlier. Bring the following gear for fording any creek or water that’s potentially more than ankle deep.

A backpacker making the Bechler Ford in Yellowstone's Bechler River.
Jeff Wilhelm making the Bechler Ford in Yellowstone’s Bechler River.
  • Have footwear (sandals with closed toes, water shoes, or old sneakers, and perhaps neoprene socks for warmth) to change into for those crossings, to protect your feet and keep your boots dry. Fording barefoot risks slipping or injuring your feet on the rocky riverbed; it’s also harder to maintain your balance walking barefoot on slick rocks.
  • Trekking poles will help maintain balance in any ford, but particularly when there’s a current or rocky bottom or both. Four potential points of contact are quite literally twice as stable as just your two feet. See my review of “The Best Trekking Poles” and my stories “How to Choose Trekking Poles” and “The 10 Best Expert Tips for Hiking With Trekking Poles.”
  • For potentially deep or fast crossings, consider bringing at least two river throw bags for a rescue (one will be of no use if the person carrying it goes down in the river).
  • Bring top layers that are warm enough to insulate your core for a cold crossing and extra dry layers to change into if your clothes get wet.
  • Dry bags or waterproof stuff sacks will keep critical items like your sleeping bag and extra dry clothing layers dry inside your pack, just in case it ends up in the water (which usually means you ended up in the water with your pack). See my review of best backpacking gear accessories.
  • Have an adequately warm sleeping bag protected in an appropriate dry bag or waterproof stuff sack inside your pack for rewarming someone who becomes severely hypothermic on a cold crossing.
  • Carry some type of fire starter, in case someone gets fully immersed in cold water and needs a fire to warm up again. Only in hot sunshine and calm air can someone emerge soaked from a stream and quickly warm up once changing from wet to dry clothes; in any combination of weather and temperatures cooler than that, people can rapidly get hypothermic and may not rewarm quickly just by changing clothes. If someone is shivering and having trouble with simple tasks like changing clothes, they are hypothermic.
  • A stove, fuel, and pot are often standard backpacking gear and mandatory on trips with cold water crossings for firing up a hot beverage or food to help a hypothermic person warm up.

Dry bags usually have roll-top closures and durable, thicker, waterproof fabric to completely seal out water even if completely immersed for several minutes or more. They also trap air inside, creating some buoyancy in water. Some waterproof stuff sacks will keep contents dry if splashed or rained on but not through more than a brief immersion; those are fine for most backpackers and for easy (read: slow and shallow) water crossings with no greater risk than a slip and fall where a pack gets briefly dunked, but not adequate for challenging crossings.

Only attempt a water crossing barefoot if it’s slow, shallow, and mostly sandy rather than rocky. Wearing only socks may be a better option than attempting it barefoot, but your feet can slip inside socks, affecting your balance; wear socks without other footwear only in shallow, easy currents with a pebbly but not terribly rocky bottom.

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Backpackers crossing a creek in Titcomb Basin, Wind River Range, Wyoming.
Todd Arndt and Mark Fenton crossing a creek in Titcomb Basin, Wind River Range, Wyoming.

Decide Whether It’s Safe

First and foremost, assess objectively whether the river or creek you want to ford is safe enough for your entire party to make it—bearing in mind that it comes down to whether the weakest party member will be safe. Plus, everyone should be comfortable with attempting it: Don’t make that decision for someone else or let someone make it for you.

If you feel uncertain about the safety of any crossing, abort your plans, whether that means choosing a different route or abandoning your trip entirely. A scary or bad accident leaves far greater regrets than canceling your plans.

The levels of rivers and streams fed by glaciers or ongoing snowmelt typically rise during the warmer daytime hours, when snowmelt upstream accelerates, and fall overnight when temperatures drop. Time those critical crossings for morning.

Gauge the current’s speed and depth. With a clear stream, you can see the bottom but understand that it may not look quite as deep as it is. With silted or murky water, the depth will not be visible.

I’ve helped many readers plan unforgettable backpacking and hiking trips.
Want my help with yours? Click here now.

 

A backpacker in The Narrows in Zion National Park.
David Gordon backpacking The Narrows in Zion National Park.

Throw a stick into the current to visualize its speed—a current moving faster than you can walk is likely unsafe. Toss a rock into the main current and listen for a low “ka-thump” indicating deep water. Seeing that rock carried downstream before sinking to the bottom, or hearing an audible rumbling of rocks rolling downstream, clearly indicates a current deep and powerful enough to sweep a person away.

Crossing any current that’s moving fast and more than knee-deep will be unsafe for most people. Attempt a crossing above the knees only in a very slow current or calm pool.

Sometimes, boulders or a log may offer a dry crossing, stepping rock to rock, across an otherwise, fast, dangerous creek. When deciding whether to attempt that, consider whether everyone possesses the balance and ability to navigate each of those steps, on rocks or a log that are possibly sloping and wet, and the consequences of someone falling in. Again, poles are invaluable aids when trying to walk a log or rocks across a creek.

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A hiker crossing a creek in Shoshone Geyser Basin in Yellowstone National Park.
Jeff crossing a creek in Shoshone Geyser Basin in Yellowstone National Park.

Check how cold the water feels. Spring and early-summer runoff from snow melting at higher elevations drops stream temperatures to just above freezing at the same time that it raises currents to levels that may range from challenging to dangerous—and frigid water not only feels really uncomfortable, it can quickly induce hypothermia and compromise your strength and balance when you desperately need it.

See “How to Prevent Hypothermia While Hiking and Backpacking.”

Assess the riverbed: Is it rocky, sandy, so mucky that your feet may sink in and slip around, compromising your balance, or some combination of these conditions? Consider these factors when deciding whether it’s safe and what to wear on your feet.

Score a backcountry permit in popular parks like Yosemite, Grand Canyon, and Grand Teton
using my “10 Tips For Getting a Hard-to-Get National Park Backcountry Permit.”

 

Backpackers in the narrows of Paria Canyon, in southern Utah and northern Arizona.
Backpackers in the narrows of Paria Canyon.

See “The 10 Best Expert Tips for Hiking With Trekking Poles” and all stories with expert backpacking skills at The Big Outside.

Whether you’re a beginner or seasoned backpacker, you’ll learn new tricks for making all of your trips go better in my “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” A Practical Guide to Lightweight and Ultralight Backpacking,” and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.” With a paid subscription to The Big Outside, you can read all of those three stories for free (as well as all of this story); if you don’t have a subscription, you can download the e-book versions of “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” the lightweight and ultralight backpacking guide, and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”

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The Best Hikes and Backpacking Trips in Idaho’s Sawtooths https://thebigoutsideblog.com/ask-me-what-are-the-best-hikes-in-idahos-sawtooths/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/ask-me-what-are-the-best-hikes-in-idahos-sawtooths/#comments Fri, 27 Jun 2025 09:00:43 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=9616 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Our group of three adults and six teenagers crossed the 9,200-foot pass on the Alice-Toxaway Divide, separating Alice and Twin lakes from Toxaway Lake, on our third straight bluebird August afternoon backpacking in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains. Before us, an arc of spires and jagged peaks wrapped around a pair of alpine lakes appropriately named Twin Lakes. And although I had hiked over this pass many times before, I stopped in my tracks and just stared at our vista. Perhaps most impressively, even the jaded teens with us found themselves awestruck, too.

Living in Idaho for over 25 years now, I’ve hiked most of the trails in the Sawtooths over the course of at least 20 trips there, and climbed a number of peaks. While there remain many climbs and off-trail areas I want to explore, I’ve gotten to know much of the range quite well. And having had the good fortune of dayhiking and backpacking in some of the prettiest mountain ranges in the country over the past three decades—including the 10 years I spent as the Northwest Editor of Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog—I’ve become convinced that few rival the Sawtooths for their jagged granite peaks and skylines and abundance of lovely alpine lakes.

I never tire of exploring the Sawtooths.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


This article describes several favorite dayhikes and backpacking trips in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains, and includes links to several stories about trips I have taken in the Sawtooths (most of which require a paid subscription to The Big Outside to read in full). See my expert e-book “The Best Backpacking Trip in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains” and my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you plan your trip in the Sawtooths or any other trip you read about at The Big Outside.

Click any photo below to read about that trip. Please tell me what you think of these hikes or share your own questions or suggested hikes in the comments section at the bottom of this story; I try to respond to all comments.

Dayhikes

Much of the best scenery in the Sawtooths lies far enough from roads to be hard to reach in a day, but there are highlights you can knock off in several hours—or at least between sunrise and sunset.

Sawtooth Lake in Idaho's Sawtooth Mountains.
Sawtooth Lake in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan your Sawtooths trip.

Sawtooth Lake

A hiker along the shore of Sawtooth Lake in Idaho's Sawtooth Mountains
David Ports hiking along the shore of Sawtooth Lake in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains

Very photogenic Sawtooth Lake is one of the most-visited corners of the Sawtooths; expect to see other hikers here on nice summer weekends and to compete for campsites with backpackers. At 8,430 feet, it’s about 8.5 miles round-trip and 1,700 vertical feet from the Iron Creek Trailhead. The trail up the Iron Creek Valley ascends past a long, pinnacled ridge, and you can make a short side trip en route to Alpine Lake, tucked in a granite bowl.

Get an early start because the glassy waters of Sawtooth Lake on a calm morning offer up an unforgettable mirror image of Mount Regan. Scramble the steep but non-technical west face of 9,861-foot Alpine Peak for the best perspective on the natural stone bathtub the lake sits in.

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Backpackers above the Baron Lakes in Idaho's Sawtooth Mountains.
My son, Nate, and two buddies backpacking above the Baron Lakes in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains.

Baron Divide

The pass known as Baron Divide, at over 9,000 feet along the high ridge separating the gorgeous Baron Lakes basin from the valley of Redfish Lake Creek, is a stout but doable dayhike from the Redfish Inlet transfer camp boat landing at the southwest corner of Redfish Lake. At some 14 miles round-trip, with about 2,700 feet of elevation gain and loss, it’s no light stroll. But the trails are good all the way, the grade rarely gets difficult, and the scenery is top-notch beginning with the boat shuttle across Redfish Lake.

At Redfish Lake Lodge, two miles off ID 75 about five miles south of Stanley, go to the marina and get the 10-minute boat shuttle across the lake. On the other side of the lake, follow trail signs up the Redfish Lake Creek Valley toward Alpine Lake and Cramer Lakes. About three miles up, at Flatrock Junction, turn north onto Trail 101 toward Alpine Lake and the Baron Lakes; this switchbacks that follow are arguably the hottest and toughest stretch of the hike, before you reenter forest for a while.

Eventually, the trail emerges from the forest, passes a pretty tarn, and reaches the alpine pass at Baron Divide, with sweeping views of the peaks to either side, including the serrated ridge of Monte Verita and Warbonnet Peak. Return the way you came.

I can help you plan any trip you read about at my blog. Find out more here.

A hiker below Thompson Peak in the Sawtooth Mountains, Idaho.
My wife, Penny, hiking below Thompson Peak, the highest in the Sawtooth Mountains, Idaho.

Thompson Peak

Thompson Peak, crown of the Sawtooth Range at 10,751 feet, can be tagged on a rugged, partly off-trail hike of about 13 miles and 4,200 vertical feet round-trip. A fun, easy, short, third-class scramble at the very top places you on a blocky summit with space for just a few people and head-spinning drop-offs on all sides. See more photos in my story “Roof of Idaho’s Sawtooths: Hiking Thompson Peak.”

A hiker near the summit of 10,751-foot Thompson Peak, the highest peak in Idaho's Sawtooth Mountains.
My wife, Penny, just below the summit of 10,751-foot Thompson Peak, the highest peak in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains.

From Redfish Trailhead, right before Redfish Lake Lodge, follow Trail 101 west to the Alpine Way Trail heading toward Marshall Lake. After climbing 1,800 vertical feet in just about four miles on the trail, before Marshall Lake, bear left (west) onto a well-beaten but unmarked footpath that’s usually blocked by a log; this unmaintained user trail climbs steeply into the cirque between Thompson and Williams peaks. The lake below Thompson’s headwall is a good enough destination by itself for a frigid and brief swim—it usually has blocks of ice floating in it well into July.

Continue up and scramble to the Thompson-Williams saddle either via its south end (easy when it’s dry rock, potentially dangerous when snow-covered) or the much steeper, usually dry, exposed fourth-class cliff at the north end of the saddle (find the line of least resistance ascending very exposed ledges angling up and left). Traverse the talus below Thompson’s west face (farther than you might think) to the gully separating Thompson from its 10,000-foot neighbor to the south, Mickey’s Spire. Then follow the steep, often loose, use footpath to the summit. Return the same way.

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Alice Lake in Idaho's Sawtooth Mountains.
Alice Lake in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains. Click photo for my e-book “The Best Backpacking Trip in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains.”

Alice Lake

Among other lakes reachable in a day, I’d suggest Alice Lake at 8,598 feet, because it’s a gorgeous spot, there’s more scenic hiking above it, and the hike to Alice ascends a really pretty valley flanked by cliffs and spires. In early summer, the lower ford of the creek draining Alice Lake can be exciting or potentially dangerous (the next ford upstream is shorter and often has a log across it). You can avoid both fords by following a faint, sporadically cairned use path that begins where the maintained trail crosses the creek at the lower ford; the sometimes-faint use path stays on the north side of the creek and rejoins the maintained trail above the second (higher) ford.

From Tin Cup Trailhead at the northeast corner of Pettit Lake, it’s 5.3 miles and a bit over 1,600 feet to Alice Lake. It’s another mile with not much more climbing to Twin Lakes, and then a half-mile and about 400 feet up to the approximately 9,200-foot pass on the Alice-Toxaway Divide, with a killer view of the jagged peaks above Twin Lakes.

Backpacking Trips

The Sawtooths have few on-trail, multi-day loop hikes. Many multi-day hikes require short shuttles between trailheads (some of which can be done with a bike). My suggestions below assume moderate days of seven to nine miles a day, but I mention multiple campsite options to allow you to plan shorter or longer days.

See the best of the Sawtooths using my expert e-book
The Best Backpacking Trip in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains!”

Alice Lake in Idaho's Sawtooth Mountains.
Alice Lake in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains.

Weekend Hike: Alice Lake-Toxaway Lake Loop

This 17-mile loop from the Tin Cup Trailhead on Pettit Lake is popular as an overnight or two-night trip for incredible views and campsites on stunning, high lakes. (This was my son’s first real backpacking trip, at age six.) There are stellar campsites at Alice Lake, Twin Lakes, and Toxaway Lake; you might decide between the first two locales just depending on what time you start the trek and whether other backpackers have beaten you to the sites at Alice Lake. Hike it clockwise because the stretch from Farley Lake back to Pettit Lake is the least interesting, sometimes hot, and dusty, and better to walk down than up.

Do you like hiking or running long loops in the mountains? This one follows good trails and fit hikers and runners can do it in a day—but in July or August, I suggest an early start for cooler temps. September is often ideal.

After the Sawtooths, hike the other nine of “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips.”

Click here now for my expert e-book to the best backpacking trip in the Sawtooths!

See all stories about backpacking in the Sawtooths at The Big Outside, including “5 Reasons You Must Backpack Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains,” “Mountain Lakes of Idaho’s Sawtooths—A Photo Gallery,” “The Best of Idaho’s Sawtooths: Backpacking Redfish to Pettit,” “Sawtooth Jewels: Backpacking to Alice, Hell Roaring, and Imogene Lakes,” and “Going After Goals: Backpacking in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains.”

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The Top 5 Ultralight Backpacking Tips https://thebigoutsideblog.com/my-top-5-ultralight-backpacking-tips/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/my-top-5-ultralight-backpacking-tips/#comments Wed, 25 Jun 2025 09:15:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=13955 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

I field a lot of questions from readers about gear and backpacking, and I find the conversation often boiling down to one issue: how much weight they have in their packs. The biggest lesson I’ve drawn from more than three decades of backpacking—including the 10 years I spent as a field editor at Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog—is that a major factor dictating my enjoyment of any hike is how much weight I’m carrying.

If I could convince my readers who backpack to follow one piece of advice— no matter your age, how much you hike, or how fit or experienced you are—it would be this: Lighten up. You’ll make backpacking more fun.

This article shares my five most effective tips for accomplishing just that.

The good news is you don’t have to embrace extreme measures or compromise safety or comfort—in fact, I’m convinced my strategy has made me more comfortable and safer than when I routinely carried a much heavier pack. Among many examples I could offer, when three friends and I backpacked the Grand Canyon’s remote and very rugged Royal Arch Loop, we moved more safely and confidently through that challenging terrain because our packs were relatively light—even with the weight of extra water. Other benefits include being able to hike farther, less likelihood of an injury, and just feeling much better at the end of every day on the trail.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A backpacker hiking over Park Creek Pass in North Cascades National Park.
Todd Arndt backpacking over Park Creek Pass in North Cascades National Park.

My story “A Practical Guide to Lightweight and Ultralight Backpacking” goes much deeper into why and how I’ve greatly reduced my pack weight. (That story requires a paid subscription to read in full, but if you’re not a subscriber, you can purchase the e-book version of that story, “A Practical Guide to Lightweight and Ultralight Backpacking.”)

But here are my five most-important tips as you set out on—or continue down—the path toward lightening your pack. Please share your thoughts on them, or your own favorite tips, in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

And click on any photo below to read about that trip.

Take the first step. See my picks for the best ultralight backpacks.

A backpacker hiking the Clear Creek Trail in the Grand Canyon.
Pam Solon backpacking the Clear Creek Trail in the Grand Canyon.

#1 Start With Nothing

The best way to fail at lightening your pack is to start with your old gear list and remove items one by one. Don’t begin from the presumption that every backpacking trip requires the same gear and clothing. Instead, sure, use a gear list as a starting point but question everything, add only what’s necessary for each trip, and continually modify your list as you experiment and hone your own system and gear kit.

See my blog post “An Essentials-Only Backpacking Gear Checklist.”

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A backpacker at a small tarn in the upper valley of Middle Fork Lake on the Wind River High Route.
Justin Glass at a small tarn in the upper valley of Middle Fork Lake on the Wind River High Route. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan any trip you read about at this blog.

#2 Weigh Everything

I mean literally put everything on a scale, from gear to clothes and food. I do it all the time (especially with food). It may sound a little too obsessive, but this helps you assess the value of everything you carry—it motivates you to downsize when you see exactly how much weight each item adds to your pack. It makes you scrutinize everything that’s potentially superfluous and helps you establish a ceiling weight for your backpack.

A person can’t lose weight without stepping on a scale. The same rule applies to a backpack.

Plan your next great backpacking adventure in Grand Teton, Yosemite,
and other flagship parks using my expert e-books.

A backpacker hiking up the Belly River Valley in Glacier National Park.
Pam Solon backpacking up the Belly River Valley in Glacier National Park. Click photo for my e-books to backpacking in Glacier and other parks.

#3 Don’t Be Miserable

I don’t sleep on a bed of leaves, harvest wild edibles or starve, or live in one pair of socks for days on end. I won’t use a wafer-thin foam pad or sleeping bag, because the energy saved through reducing my pack’s weight by those ounces of bag insulation or mattress would be eclipsed by the energy sacrificed to sleep loss. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve added a little more comfort to my kit to ensure that I feel good out there, while still keeping a close eye on that scale.

Customize your own gear kit to suit your needs—including comfort—but don’t lose sight of the goal, which is to end up with a much lighter pack.

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A backpacker hiking over Clouds Rest in Yosemite National Park.
Mark Fenton backpacking over Clouds Rest in Yosemite National Park. Click photo for my e-book “The Best First Backpacking Trip in Yosemite.”

#4 Plan Your Water and Food Precisely

Water and food are heavy: The average person eats two pounds of food and drinks eight pounds or more of water every day in the backcountry. Don’t subscribe to some antiquated rule about a minimum amount of water you must carry or hauling around far more food than you will eat.

Ask yourself: What’s the walking time to the next expected water source, and the likelihood of not finding water at it? What are the real chances of running out of food long before finishing the hike?

I plan exactly how much I’ll eat every day, carrying very little extra food, and I haven’t starved yet. I guzzle water at every source (better to carry it in your belly than on your back) and carry only what I’ll need to reach the next reliable water source.

I’ve helped many readers plan unforgettable backpacking and hiking trips.
Want my help with yours? Click here now.

 

A backpacker on the Teton Crest Trail.
Todd Arndt backpacking the Teton Crest Trail. Click photo for my complete e-book to backpacking the Teton Crest Trail.

#5 Replace Old Gear

This is my only tip that costs money, and it won’t be feasible for everyone—or not immediately, anyway. But new gear is generally lighter—and more comfortable, and sometimes even more durable—than old gear. As you can afford to, replace heavy, bulky, old gear with new stuff. Consider it an investment in your personal pleasure.

See a menu of all reviews and expert buying tips at my Gear Reviews page and all reviews of backpacking gear and ultralight backpacking gear at The Big Outside.

And don’t miss my picks for “The Best Backpacking Gear” of the year.

Whether you’re a beginner or seasoned backpacker, you’ll learn new tricks for making all of your trips go better in my stories “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” “A Practical Guide to Lightweight and Ultralight Backpacking,” and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.” With a paid subscription to The Big Outside, you can read all of those three stories for free; if you don’t have a subscription, you can download the e-book versions of “12 Expert Tips for Planning a Backpacking Trip,” the lightweight and ultralight backpacking guide, and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”

See also “5 Smart Steps to Lighten Your Backpacking Gear,” “How to Decide Where to Go Backpacking” and a menu of all stories covering backcountry skills at The Big Outside.

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5 Reasons You Must Backpack the Wind River Range https://thebigoutsideblog.com/5-reasons-you-must-backpack-the-wind-river-range/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/5-reasons-you-must-backpack-the-wind-river-range/#comments Tue, 24 Jun 2025 09:00:10 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=46400 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

On a cool early morning in August while backpacking the Wind River High Route a few summers ago, I hiked in the shadow of tall mountains to Jackass Pass at 10,790 feet—a spot I’ve stood on at least a few times before, overlooking the incomparable Cirque of the Towers in the Winds—and affirmed a truth about that patch of rocks and dirt: It still had the power to take my breath away and make my heart speed up a little bit (although the climb to the pass may have had something to do with that).

It was a comfort to see that the effect the Wind River Range has on me had not changed.

Despite lying just south of two of America’s most beloved national parks—Grand Teton and Yellowstone—Wyoming’s Wind River Range exists in a sort of odd state of exalted partial anonymity. Backpackers who go there almost invariably leave feeling they have discovered a mountain paradise (because they have). Yet, the Winds remain off the radar of many people who enjoy putting on a backpack and walking for days through mountains.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A backpacker hiking into Titcomb Basin in the Wind River Range, Wyoming.
Todd Arndt backpacking into Titcomb Basin in the Wind River Range, Wyoming.

After several backpacking trips in the Winds, I find myself drawn back ever more strongly. I’m hoping to return again this summer—but in a sense, I’m always planning my next trip in the Winds. And I’ve hiked through many mountain ranges across the country over more than three decades of backpacking, including the 10 years I spent as the Northwest Editor of Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog. I rank the Winds among “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips.”

This story will attempt to convey the many good reasons every avid backpacker should hike in the Wind River Range. Give it a read, I think you’ll be convinced. Click any photo to read about that trip. Please share your thoughts on this article—or your favorite Wind River Range hikes—in the comments section below this story. I try to respond to all comments.

I’ve helped many readers of my blog plan a very enjoyable backpacking trip in the Winds. See my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can do that for you.

See “The 10 Best Backpacking Trips in the Wind River Range.”

Sunset at Lower Cook Lake on a solo backpacking trip in the Wyoming's Wind River Range in September.
Sunset at Lower Cook Lake on a solo backpacking trip in the Wyoming’s Wind River Range. Click photo to see this and many other photos from places I’ve written about at The Big Outside that are available to purchase as professional-quality enlargements suitable for framing.

1. Well, There’s the Mountains and Lakes…

Outside the High Sierra and Colorado Rockies, no mountain range in the Lower 48 matches the majestic heights of the Winds. Stretching for almost 100 miles from north to south and spanning more than 7,000 square miles, the Winds are home to about 40 peaks rising above 13,000 feet, including Wyoming’s highest, 13,804-foot Gannett Peak.

And besides the High Sierra, there may be no mountain range in the country with as many lovely alpine lakes and tarns as the Wind River Range—you will lose count of the lakes you hike past and regret not camping beside.

A backpacker at a tarn in the upper valley of Middle Fork Lake on the Wind River High Route.
Justin Glass at a tarn in the upper valley of Middle Fork Lake on the Wind River High Route.

Plus, much of the Wind River Range lies within federally designated wilderness, enjoying all the protections conveyed on those lands: no motors, no visitor centers, no roads crossing the range anywhere. Unlike national park gateway towns like Springdale, Utah (Zion), Jackson, Wyoming (Grand Teton), and Bar Harbor, Maine (Acadia), the handful of small towns that ring the range remain uncrowded places with a feel of authenticity, where you can feast on a great dinner or breakfast pre- or post-trip and grab lodging without busting your travel budget or wading through herds of drive-by tourists.

As many seasoned backpackers know, if you’re looking for a remote and inspiring adventure in the best of the Rocky Mountains, arguably nothing beats the Winds.

I’ve helped many readers plan an unforgettable backpacking trip in the Wind River Range.
Want my help with yours? Find out more here.

A backpacker hiking to Island Lake in Wyoming's Wind River Range.
Todd Arndt backpacking to Island Lake in Wyoming’s Wind River Range. Click photo to get my help planning your trip.

2. No Permit Complications

With many marquis national parks and trails—Yosemite, Glacier, Grand Canyon, Mount Rainier, Zion, the John Muir Trail, Teton Crest Trail, and Wonderland Trail and others—you must plan and reserve a backcountry permit months in advance of your trip. And there’s no guarantee you’ll get it. (Learn some smart strategies for success at that in my “10 Tips for Getting a Hard-to-Get National Park Backcountry Permit.”)

Not so in the Wind River Range—just show up, throw your pack on, and start hiking. You still must figure out when and where exactly to go and perhaps corral some backpacking partners, but there are no bureaucratic hoops to jump through.

That’s very appealing for backpackers who don’t always plan their trips months in advance or who struck out getting a permit somewhere else—or who find themselves changing plans due to wildfires, a common summer occurrence these days.

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A backpacker hiking the Doubletop Mountain Trail, Wind River Range WY.
My wife, Penny, backpacking the Doubletop Mountain Trail in the Wind River Range, Wyoming.

3. The Solitude

While there’s no permit system to limit the numbers of backpackers wandering the Winds—and a few areas are popular—the vastness of the range and difficulty of exploring deeply into it (see below) creates natural limitations on human density there. You will often see numerous vehicles parked at popular trailheads like Elkhart Park and Big Sandy, but people spread out in this backcountry once you’re more than a day’s hike from a trailhead. I’ve walked trails in the Winds many times seeing very few other backpackers.

The Winds also lie quite far from big cities and major airports, a major factor limiting the numbers of people; and in much of the range, the Continental Divide—nexus of the best scenery in the Winds—lies many miles from the nearest trailhead. Backpacking in the Winds demands a real commitment of time and effort.

The off-trail hiking opportunities are abundant (for people with the skills for that) and virtually guarantee hours and days of solitude—as I’ve experienced on various trips there, including backpacking the 96-mile Wind River High Route, two-thirds of which is off-trail, and on a cross-country section of a loop hike through Titcomb Basin. My companions and I encountered other backpackers when following trails—though usually relatively few of them—but seeing other people when crossing remote passes and valleys where no trail exists were so rare they became a surprising pleasure.

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Backpackers hiking past a tarn off the Highline Trail (CDT) in Wyoming's Wind River Range.
Chip Roser and Penny Beach backpacking past a tarn off the Highline Trail (CDT) in Wyoming’s Wind River Range.

And you can stay entirely on trail and still enjoy a high degree of solitude, as my wife, a friend, and I did in late summer 2022 on a five-day, 43-mile loop through an area of the Winds I had mostly not seen before. We enjoyed one of the best backcountry campsites I’ve ever had—to ourselves (as was true of every camp on that trip)—crossed four high passes and walked past countless gorgeous lakes. And I think the total amount of time we spent with other people within sight amounted to under two hours… over five days.

And a friend and I had a similar experience of long stretches of solitude mixed with some busier trails on a four-day, 41-mile loop in August 2023 that crossed four passes on the Continental Divide, traversed the popular Cirque of the Towers, and featured beautiful camps by lakes every night—a route I subsequently dubbed the best backpacking trip in the Winds.

Plus, the Winds have a short peak season—generally mid-July to early or mid-September—and you’ll see fewer people by pushing the boundaries of that season with a good weather window (among my “12 Expert Tips for Finding Solitude When Backpacking”), remaining mindful that snow can fall in September.

After the Wind River Range, hike the other nine of “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips.”

A backpacker hiking to Jackass Pass in the Cirque of the Towers in the Wind River Range, Wyoming.
Chip Roser backpacking to Jackass Pass in the Cirque of the Towers in the Wind River Range. Click photo to read about the best backpacking trip in the Winds.

4. It’s Not Easy… And That’s Good

Besides their location far from big cities and major airports, another major factor limiting the numbers of people backpacking in the Winds is the simple difficulty of hiking there. You will walk miles of rugged wilderness trails to reach the prime goods, above 10,000 feet much of the time and crossing passes usually well over 11,000 feet, all of which ratchets up the strenuousness and amplifies fatigue.

You’ll feel like you’ve earned your lakeside campsites and lonely sunsets in the Winds. And having to earn your wilderness helps keep the less-committed away.

Plan your next great backpacking trip in Yosemite, Grand Teton,
and other parks using my expert e-books.

Backpackers hiking to Island Lake in Wyoming's Wind River Range.
Backpackers hiking to Titcomb Basin in Wyoming’s Wind River Range. Click photo to see all stories about backpacking in the Winds at The Big Outside.

5. You Will Fall in Love With the Winds

The Wind River Range creates its own gravitational pull. Backpackers who go once find themselves returning over and over. I’ve met backpackers who’ve been numerous times and hardly go anywhere else—and I can’t blame them. The Winds offer an overt promise of a beautiful experience that’s quite unique in the country and deliver on that promise every time.

Personally, as someone who prefers seeing new places rather than returning repeatedly to one or two places, I’ve still found myself going back again and again to certain special parks and wilderness areas that never grow ordinary: Yosemite. The Tetons. The Grand Canyon. Glacier. And there are others.

I place the Wind River Range in that elite company. Each time I return reminds me why I do and inspires me to plan the next trip.

And I know I’ll never be disappointed.

See my stories “The 10 Best Backpacking Trips in the Wind River Range,” “The Best Backpacking Trip in the Wind River Range? Yup,” “Backpacking Through a Lonely Corner of the Wind River Range,” “Best of the Wind River Range: Backpacking to Titcomb Basin,” “Adventure and Adversity on the Wind River High Route,” and “A Walk in the Winds: Dayhiking 27 Miles Across the Wind River Range,” and all stories about backpacking in the Winds at The Big Outside. Like most stories about trips at this blog, reading those in full requires a paid subscription to this blog.

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41 Gorgeous Backcountry Lakes—A Photo Gallery https://thebigoutsideblog.com/photo-gallery-15-favorite-backcountry-lakes/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/photo-gallery-15-favorite-backcountry-lakes/#comments Sat, 21 Jun 2025 09:00:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=19695 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Water makes up about 60 percent of our bodies—and, I suspect, 100 percent of our hearts. We crave it not only physically, for survival, but emotionally, for spiritual rejuvenation. We love playing in it for hours as children and we paddle and swim in it as adults. We’re drawn by the calming effects of sitting beside a stream or lake in a beautiful natural setting, an experience that possesses a certain je ne sais quoi—a quality difficult to describe, but that we can all feel.

And nothing beats taking a swim in a gorgeous backcountry lake.

I’ve come across quite a few wonderful backcountry lakes over more than three decades of exploring wilderness—including about 10 years as the Northwest Editor of Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog. I’ve just updated and expanded this list of my favorites—adding a lake I camped beside last year in Montana’s Beartooth Wilderness—to give you some eye candy as well as ideas for future adventures, and perhaps compare against your list of favorite backcountry lakes.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


Click on the links to my stories in these brief writeups to learn more about each of these trips. Part of this story is free for anyone to read, but reading the entire story is an exclusive benefit of a paid subscription, which also provides full access to all the numerous stories about trips at The Big Outside, and those include my tips on planning those trips. See my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you plan a trip to any of these lakes.

If you know some gorgeous lakes that are not on my list, please suggest them in the comments section below this story. I try to respond to all comments.

Here’s to your next peaceful moment beside a gorgeous lake deep in the mountains somewhere.

Elizabeth Lake in Glacier National Park.
Elizabeth Lake in Glacier National Park.

Elizabeth Lake, Glacier National Park

Early on the second morning of a six-day, 94-mile traverse of Glacier National Park, mostly on the Continental Divide Trail, three friends and I set out from the backcountry campground at the head of Elizabeth Lake, hiking along the sandy shore. An elk bugled from somewhere in the forest nearby. The glassy water reflected a razor-sharp, upside-down reflection of the jagged mountains flanking it. Among many lovely backcountry lakes in Glacier, Elizabeth Lake is one of the finest.

See my stories “Wildness All Around You: Backpacking the CDT Through Glacier” and “Descending the Food Chain: Backpacking Glacier National Park’s Northern Loop,” plus my e-books “The Best Backpacking Trip in Glacier National Park” and “Backpacking the Continental Divide Trail Through Glacier National Park.”

I can help you plan any trip you read about at my blog. Find out more here.

Sunrise reflection in a tarn above Helen Lake along the John Muir Trail, Kings Canyon N.P.
Sunrise reflection in a tarn above Helen Lake along the John Muir Trail, Kings Canyon National Park.

Helen Lake, John Muir Trail, Kings Canyon National Park

In the wake of a violent thunderstorm, we crossed 11,955-foot Muir Pass on the John Muir Trail in Kings Canyon National Park in early evening on the eighth day of a nine-day, 130-mile hike through the High Sierra. Finding what seemed the only two patches of rock-free ground, we pitched our tents above Helen Lake, at around 11,600 feet. The next morning, the rising sun ignited the peaks across Helen Lake, the scene captured in razor-sharp reflections in the lake and a tiny tarn near our camp—burning that almost accidental camp above Helen Lake into memory for all three of us.

See my story about that trip, “High Sierra Ramble: 130 Miles On—and Off—the John Muir Trail,” and “10 Great John Muir Trail Section Hikes.”

Planning a backpacking trip? See “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips
and this menu of all stories with expert backpacking tips at The Big Outside.

Backpackers hiking past a tarn off the Highline Trail (CDT) in Wyoming's Wind River Range.
Chip Roser and Penny Beach backpacking past a tarn off the Highline Trail (CDT) in Wyoming’s Wind River Range.

Tarn Along the Highline Trail, Wind River Range

Searching for a suitable campsite along the Highline Trail late one afternoon on a five-day, roughly 43-mile loop hike in the Winds, my wife, a friend, and I reached an unnamed, small tarn—and the view stopped us in our tracks. From our camp a few hundred feet off-trail beyond the tarn, we overlooked grassy meadows littered with glacial-erratic boulders that sloped down to another lake. Beyond that, 12,119-foot Sky Pilot Peak and 12,224-foot Mount Oeneis towered over the valley. I shot this photo as we hit the trail the next morning.

See “Backpacking Through a Lonely Corner of the Wind River Range” and all stories about backpacking in the Wind River Range at The Big Outside.

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Alice Lake in Idaho's Sawtooth Mountains.
Alice Lake in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains.

Alice Lake, Sawtooth Mountains

Idaho’s Sawtooths must be in contention for the title of American mountain range with the most beautiful lakes—maybe eclipsed only by the High Sierra and Wind River Range. Like the Sierra and Winds, backpacking in the Sawtooths brings you to the shores of multiple lakes every day, shimmering in sunlight, rippled by wind, or offering a mirror reflection of jagged peaks on calm mornings and evenings. Alice (also shown in lead photo at top of story) is one of the larger and prettier of them, a spot I’ve visited several times without getting tired of the view across it to a row of sharp-edged peaks.

See all of my stories about Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains, including “The Best of Idaho’s Sawtooths: Backpacking Redfish to Pettit,” “Jewels of the Sawtooths: Backpacking to Alice, Hell Roaring, and Imogene Lakes,” and “The Best Hikes and Backpacking Trips in Idaho’s Sawtooths,” and my e-guide “The Best Backpacking Trip in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains,” which describes a route that includes Alice Lake.

After the Sawtooths, hike the other nine of “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips.”

A young girl at Precipice Lake in Sequoia National Park.
My daughter, Alex, at Precipice Lake in Sequoia National Park.

Precipice Lake, Sequoia National Park

Precipice wasn’t even our intended campsite on the third day of a six-day, 40-mile family backpacking trip in Sequoia, in California’s southern High Sierra. We planned to push maybe a mile farther, to camp on the other side of 10,700-foot Kaweah Gap. But when we reached Precipice Lake at 10,400 feet, and saw its glassy, green and blue waters reflecting white and golden cliffs, and took a bracing swim, it wasn’t a hard sell when I suggested we spend the night there. It became one of my 25 all-time favorite backcountry campsites.

See my story about that trip, “Heavy Lifting: Backpacking Sequoia National Park,” and all of my stories about Sequoia National Park at The Big Outside.

Got an all-time favorite campsite? I have 25.
See “Tent Flap With a View: 25 Favorite Backcountry Campsites.”

Lake Solitude, North Fork Cascade Canyon, Grand Teton National Park.
Lake Solitude in the North Fork of Cascade Canyon, Grand Teton National Park. Click photo for my expert e-book “The Complete Guide to Backpacking the Teton Crest Trail.”

Lake Solitude, Grand Teton National Park

Hiking in the chilly, early-morning shade of the North Fork of Cascade Canyon, we looked up to see a huge bull moose sauntering through a meadow speckled with wildflowers, maybe a hundred yards from us. Minutes later, thanks to our early departure from camp, we reached the rocky shoreline of at Lake Solitude—the first people there that morning, enjoying a true period of “solitude” at this spot that’s enormously popular with dayhikers. In the calm morning air, the lake lay absolutely still, mirroring in sharp detail a cirque of cliffs, rocky mountainsides, and lingering patches of old snow.

See my story about my most recent trip in the Tetons, “A Wonderful Obsession: Backpacking the Teton Crest Trail,” my stories “Walking Familiar Ground: Reliving Old Memories and Making New Ones on the Teton Crest Trail” and “American Classic: Backpacking the Teton Crest Trail,” and all of my stories about the Teton Crest Trail and Grand Teton National Park.

Dying to backpack in the Tetons? See my e-books to the Teton Crest Trail and
the best short backpacking trip there.

Dawn light at No Name Lake in Glacier National Park.
Dawn light at No Name Lake in Glacier National Park.

No Name Lake, Glacier National Park

On the last night of a seven-day, north-south hike through Glacier, right after making the Dawson Pass Trail’s awesome alpine crossing from Pitamakan to Dawson passes, two friends and I spent our final night at No Name Lake—which I’d hiked past without stopping on a very similar, six-day trip five years before (see this story).

The next morning brought the kind of calm air that creates a perfect, mirror-like lake reflection—this one enhanced by the coincidental angle of the sun across the cliffs above the lake that lent it such striking, high-contrast light. Happening upon a moment like that makes me gasp.

See my story “Déjà Vu All Over Again: Backpacking in Glacier National Park” and all stories about backpacking in Glacier at The Big Outside.

 

Save yourself a lot of time.
Get my expert e-book to backpacking the CDT through Glacier.

 

Larch trees glowing with fall color, reflected in Rainbow Lake in the North Cascades National Park Complex.
Larch trees glowing with fall color, reflected in Rainbow Lake in the North Cascades National Park Complex.

Rainbow Lake, North Cascades National Park Complex

After a relentless, seven-mile-long, 3,500-foot uphill slog to Rainbow Pass in the Lake Chelan National Recreation Area, a friend and I descended to a wonderful, wooded campsite on the shore of Rainbow Lake. We stuffed fistfuls of huckleberries into our mouths, then walked down to the lakeshore, where the setting sun was setting larch trees—their needles turned golden in late September—afire. It seemed a fitting final night of an 80-mile trek through the heart of the North Cascades National Park Complex.

See my story about that trip, “Primal Wild: Backpacking 80 Miles Through the North Cascades,” and all of my stories about the North Cascades.

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Morning at Overland Lake on the Ruby Crest Trail.
Morning at Overland Lake on Nevada’s Ruby Crest Trail.

Overland Lake, Ruby Crest Trail

Near the end of my family’s second day of a four-day, approximately 36-mile traverse of Nevada’s underappreciated Ruby Crest Trail, a nearly 2,000-foot uphill slog landed us at a pass at about 10,200 feet. Almost 1,000 feet below us, a stone bowl held Overland Lake like a pair of cupped hands. Beyond it, the backbone of the Ruby Mountains stretched for many miles—exciting us over the alpine walk that awaited us. We descended into that bowl to make camp on a rock ledge jutting into one corner of the lake, at around 9,400 feet. The Ruby Crest Trail cuts a snaking route along the spine of Nevada’s Ruby Mountains, a north-south range of granite-rimmed lake basins and arid valleys carved by ancient glaciers. Overlooking this hike would be your loss.

See my story “Backpacking the Ruby Crest Trail—A Diamond in the Rough.”

I can help you plan the best backpacking, hiking, or family adventure of your life.
Click here now to learn more.

 

A backpacker hiking to Island Lake in Wyoming's Wind River Range.
Todd Arndt backpacking to Island Lake in Wyoming’s Wind River Range.

Island Lake, Wind River Range

As I mentioned above, few mountain ranges in America are as blessed with gorgeous backcountry lakes as Wyoming’s Winds. That makes it hard to pick out just one or two as favorites, but Island Lake deserves a shout out as much as any and more than most. Two friends and I hiked past it on a three-day, 41-mile loop from the Elkhart Park Trailhead to Titcomb Basin and over Knapsack Col in the Winds—and if we didn’t already have our hearts set on spending that night in Titcomb, we could have easily pitched our tents by Island for the night.

Read my feature story about that 41-mile hike, “Best of the Wind River Range: Backpacking to Titcomb Basin,” and check out all of my stories about the Winds at The Big Outside.

Don’t let red tape foil your plans.
See my “10 Tips For Getting a Hard-to-Get National Park Backcountry Permit.”

A backpacker passing Wanda Lake on the John Muir Trail in Kings Canyon National Park.
Todd Arndt passing Wanda Lake, in the Evolution Basin along the John Muir Trail in Kings Canyon National Park.

Wanda Lake, John Muir Trail, Kings Canyon National Park

The seven-day thru-hike of the John Muir Trail that I made with some friends featured many unforgettable moments and a lifetime’s worth of stunning scenery—and aching feet—but few moments as quietly lovely as the early morning that we hiked along the shore of Wanda Lake. We were climbing toward 11,955-foot Muir Pass when we reached this uppermost lake in the Evolution Basin, a high valley scoured from granite by long-ago glaciers and studded with lakes. As my friend Todd walked along the lakeshore, I captured perhaps my best image from that entire trip.

See my story “Thru-Hiking the John Muir Trail in Seven Days: Amazing Experience, or Certifiably Insane?” See also all of my stories about backpacking the John Muir Trail.

Ready for a better backpack? See “The 10 Best Backpacking Packs
and the best ultralight backpacks.

May Lake in Yosemite National Park.
May Lake in Yosemite National Park. Click photo for my e-guide “The Prettiest, Uncrowded Backpacking Trip in Yosemite.”

May Lake, Yosemite National Park

A friend and I reached May Lake on the last afternoon of one of my top 10 best-ever backpacking trips, a weeklong, 151-mile tour of the most remote areas of Yosemite. We arrived as the sun dipped toward the western horizon, casting beautiful, low-angle light across the lake, which sits at the base of craggy, 10,845-foot Mount Hoffman. But you can visit May on an easy dayhike of 2.5 miles round-trip. Bonus: There’s a High Sierra Camp on May’s shore that’s a good base camp for hiking the area, including the steep jaunt up Hoffman, which has arguably the nicest summit view in Yosemite.

See more photos, a video, and trip-planning tips in my story about the 87-mile second leg of that 151-tour of Yosemite, “Best of Yosemite, Part 2: Backpacking Remote Northern Yosemite,” and my story about the 65-mile first leg of that adventure, “Best of Yosemite, Part 1: Backpacking South of Tuolumne Meadows,” and “The 10 Best Dayhikes in Yosemite” (including May Lake and Mount Hoffmann) at The Big Outside.

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Quiet Lake in Idaho's White Cloud Mountains.
Quiet Lake in Idaho’s White Cloud Mountains.

Quiet Lake, White Cloud Mountains

A longtime backcountry ranger in Idaho’s Sawtooth National Recreation Area (SNRA) got my attention when he told me that Quiet Lake was his favorite in the White Clouds, which are part of both the SNRA and one of America’s newest wilderness areas. He wasn’t overhyping it. When I backpacked to Quiet Lake with my son, following a partly off-trail route that was moderately strenuous and not too difficult to navigate, we hit the summit of a nearly 11,000-foot peak with an amazing panorama of the White Clouds, traversed a barren, rocky basin with four alpine lakes, and pitched our tent by the shore of Quiet, below the soaring north face of 11,815-foot Castle Peak, highest in the White Clouds. And we didn’t see another person the entire time. If you need a bit of peace and quiet—not to mention breathtaking natural beauty—go here.

See my “Photo Gallery: A Father-Son Backpacking Trip in Idaho’s White Cloud Mountains,” and all stories
about Idaho’s White Cloud Mountains
at The Big Outside.

Get the right shelter for your trips. See “The 10 Best Backpacking Tents
and my expert tips in “How to Choose the Best Ultralight Backpacking Tent for You.”

Lake Sylvan in the Beartooth Mountains, Montana.
Lake Sylvan in the Beartooth Wilderness, Montana. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan any trip you read about at my blog.

Lake Sylvan, Beartooth Wilderness

Quite by accident, two friends and I saved the best campsite for our last night on a five-day August hike through Montana’s Beartooth Wilderness. We pitched our tents a short walk from the shore of Lake Sylvan, tucked into a cirque below the cliffs of Sylvan Peak, which rises to nearly 12,000 feet. That night capped a trip where we enjoyed complete solitude at two of our four camps and for several hours each day while hiking below jagged peaks, seeing small glaciers at the heads of glacially carved cirques, to one pass at around 11,000 feet, and across the treeless tundra of a plateau at over 10,000 feet.

See my story “Backpacking the High and Mighty Beartooth Mountains.”

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A backpacker hiking past Minaret Lake in the Ansel Adams Wilderness, High Sierra.
Marco Garofalo backpacking past Minaret Lake in the Ansel Adams Wilderness, High Sierra.

Minaret Lake, Ansel Adams Wilderness

The relentlessly steep trail brought us to stunning Iceberg Lake at almost 9,800 feet and continued, even more strenuously, upward over talus and scree to Cecile Lake, at 10,260 feet at the feet of the 11,000- and 12,000-foot High Sierra spires known as the Minarets, lined up like chipped and broken bowling pins. With the “trail” terminating there, we found our way across more talus and down a steep gully to Minaret Lake—arguably the prettiest among several lakes we’d already seen that day. We found a spot for our tents amid conifer trees a short walk from the lakeshore and enjoyed a sunset and sunrise that ranked among the best of several great ones on that trip.

See my story about that trip, “High Sierra Ramble: 130 Miles On—and Off—the John Muir Trail,” and “10 Great John Muir Trail Section Hikes.”

Start out right. See “10 Perfect National Park Backpacking Trips for Beginners
and “The 5 Southwest Backpacking Trips You Should Do First.”

Ouzel Lake in Wild Basin, Rocky Mountain National Park, Colorado.
Ouzel Lake in Wild Basin, Rocky Mountain National Park, Colorado.

Ouzel Lake, Rocky Mountain National Park

Tucked into the ponderosa pine forest at around 10,000 feet, in the park’s Wild Basin area, Ouzel is reached on a moderate hike of less than five miles and 1,500 vertical from the Wild Basin Trailhead. Although it gets some dayhikers, you can have a protected campsite in the trees there all to yourself, as my family did on a three-day, early-September backpacking trip. My kids, then 10 and seven, played and fished for hours in the shallow waters near our camp and the lake’s outlet creek.

See my story “The 5 Rules About Kids I Broke While Backpacking in Rocky Mountain National Park.”

Want to take your family backpacking? See these expert e-books:
The Best Short Backpacking Trip in Grand Teton National Park
The Best First Backpacking Trip in Yosemite
The Best Backpacking Trip in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains

Early morning at Mirror Lake in Oregon's Eagle Cap Wilderness.
Early morning at Mirror Lake in Oregon’s Eagle Cap Wilderness.

Mirror Lake, Eagle Cap Wilderness

Early on the clear and calm, third morning of a 40-mile family backpacking trip in Oregon’s Eagle Cap Wilderness, I left our campsite and walked down to the shore of this lake, anticipating the scene I’d capture in pixels. Mirror Lake, in the popular Lakes Basin, earns its moniker, offering up a flawless reflection of its conifer- and granite-rimmed shore and the cliffs of 9,572-foot Eagle Cap Peak high above it. Our hike made a long loop through some less-visited areas of the wilderness, but you can reach Mirror Lake on weekend-length hikes, too.

See my story “Learning the Hard Way: Backpacking Oregon’s Eagle Cap Wilderness,” and all of my stories about backpacking in Oregon at The Big Outside.

Gear up smartly for your trips.
See all of my reviews and expert buying tips at my Gear Reviews page.

A backpacker on the Shannon Pass Trail above Peak Lake, Wind River Range, Wyoming.
Mark Fenton backpacking past Peak Lake, Wind River Range, Wyoming.

Peak Lake, Wind River Range

As I’ve written elsewhere at this blog, take a long walk in the Winds and you can hardly swing an extended tent pole without hitting a lake or tarn. I have now backpacked past Peak Lake on separate 41-mile and 43-mile loop hikes in the Winds (which overlapped by just several miles of trail that did not grow dull on the return visit). Shimmering at the bottom of a tiny bowl, surrounded by peaks resembling giant incisors, Peak Lake can be reached from a few different directions—none of them short walks, which helps keep this jaw-dropping little basin in the Winds relatively quiet. Both times I’ve walked past it, the only company I had was my two companions.

See my stories “Backpacking Through a Lonely Corner of the Wind River Range” and “Best of the Wind River Range: Backpacking to Titcomb Basin,” and all stories about backpacking in the Wind River Range at The Big Outside.

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Oldman Lake and Flinsch Peak seen from Pitamakan Pass in Glacier National Park.
Oldman Lake and Flinsch Peak seen from Pitamakan Pass in Glacier National Park.

Oldman Lake, Glacier National Park

On day six of a weeklong hike through Glacier National Park, three of us reached Pitamakan Pass on a bluebird morning and set our packs down; we had to spend some time enjoying this prospect. Behind us, Pitamakan Lake and Seven Winds of the Lake nestle in the cliff-ringed cirque that we just hiked through on the Continental Divide Trail. But even more impressive, the view south took in the immense horseshoe of cliffs and forested mountainsides cradling Oldman Lake, below the sharp point of Flinsch Peak and the 2,000-foot stone wall of Mount Morgan rising virtually out of the waters of Oldman.

See my story “Déjà Vu All Over Again: Backpacking in Glacier National Park” and all stories about backpacking in Glacier at The Big Outside.

Get my expert e-books to the best backpacking trip in Glacier
and backpacking the Continental Divide Trail through Glacier.

 

A backpacker on the John Muir Trail above Thousand Island Lake in the Ansel Adams Wilderness.
Todd Arndt backpacking the John Muir Trail above Thousand Island Lake in the Ansel Adams Wilderness..

Thousand Island Lake, John Muir Trail, Ansel Adams Wilderness

Thru-hiking southbound on the John Muir Trail, among the first of many moments that signal how this trek seems to keep getting better and better is when you descend toward Thousand Island Lake in the Ansel Adams Wilderness. Yosemite—a pretty impressive place in its own right—now lies miles behind you. Banner Peak, scraping the sky at nearly 13,000 feet, has been in sight for some miles and looming ever larger. Then you catch your first glimpse of the lake, speckled with islets, and it takes your breath away.

Remind yourself that much more of this kind of stuff still awaits you.

See my stories “Thru-Hiking the John Muir Trail in Seven Days: Amazing Experience, or Certifiably Insane?” “High Sierra Ramble: 130 Miles On—and Off—the John Muir Trail,” and “10 Great John Muir Trail Section Hikes.”

And see my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you plan your JMT thru-hike—as I’ve helped numerous other readers.

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See all of my stories about backpacking, family adventures, and national park adventures at The Big Outside.
 

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5 Tips for Getting Out of Camp Faster When Backpacking https://thebigoutsideblog.com/5-tips-for-getting-out-of-camp-faster-when-backpacking/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/5-tips-for-getting-out-of-camp-faster-when-backpacking/#comments Fri, 20 Jun 2025 09:00:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=39220 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Years ago, in a visitor center in a popular national park, I overheard a conversation in which one person said to another, “Backpackers? They don’t start hiking until 10 or 11 in the morning.” I laughed to myself because I know how true that is in many cases. But I also found it amusing because I prefer to start hiking early when backpacking—and I know that it’s not just about what time you get up. Some simple and easy habits can help you get out of camp faster and on the trail earlier, bringing numerous benefits that really transform the experience of backpacking for you.

Are you a backpacker who doesn’t get out of camp very quickly, either due to your own inertia or that of companions? If your answer is yes, but you’d like to be more efficient about packing up and getting on the trail, this article will help you do just that. The tips below focus on making more efficient use of your time, which will help you get on the trail faster regardless of when you roll out of your bag.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


I’ve learned and adopted the following practices over three decades (and counting) and thousands of miles of backpacking, including having worked as the Northwest Editor of Backpacker magazine for 10 years and even longer running this blog. Those trips have been with a wide range of companions, including my kids from when they were very young through their teen years, as well as friends of all abilities and experience levels. Getting different companions packed and on the trail in a time-efficient manner in the morning demands, at times, different tactics—all covered below.

Please share your questions or thoughts about my tips or any tricks of your own that help you hit the trail faster in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

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A moose along the Teton Crest Trail, North Fork Cascade Canyon, Grand Teton National Park.
An early start led to friends and I sseeing this moose along the Teton Crest Trail in the North Fork Cascade Canyon. Click photo to read about that trip.

Why Hit the Trail Early?

There are many benefits to starting your daily hiking before the sun rises high in the sky, including:

• Hiking more miles in the cooler hours of morning rather than in the heat of the afternoon, when every mile is much more exhausting.
• Enjoying greater solitude when hitting the trail ahead of most backpackers.
• Seeing wildlife, which are generally more active in early morning and evening and less visible during the middle hours of the day.
• Hiking during one of the two times of day—early morning and evening—when the sun is low and the light is much prettier for photography or just marveling at the landscape.
• Enabling you to cover more miles each day without having to hike any faster—essential for thru-hikers of any long trail, but also beneficial for backpackers who would simply like to see more in the number of days they have.
• Allowing time for a side trip to a summit, lake, overlook, or other point of interest not on your direct route.
• Reaching your next campsite with more time to relax, explore the area, or take a dip in a lake or creek while the sun is higher and the temperature warmer.

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Morning light at Middle Cramer Lake in Idaho's Sawtooth Mountains.
Morning light at Middle Cramer Lake in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains. Click photo for my e-book “The Best Backpacking Trip in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains.”

No. 1 Have a Plan

The best way to ensure you get a slow and late start leaving your campsite in the morning is to not bother discussing a morning plan the night before. Let everyone move at their own speed and you will guarantee a slow departure because you have effectively ceded control of the group’s schedule to the slowest person and/or latest sleeper in your party.

Instead, discuss it the evening before and agree on a wake-up time and a departure time. It can be negotiable, but it helps inform the decision when everyone understands how far you plan to hike each day and how long that will take, as well as where you may want to spend time along the way to your next campsite and roughly when you would all like to reach that next camp.

There may be days when you decide on a later start—perhaps because some in the group need more sleep, or there’s great swimming or fishing at your current camp, and that’s fine. The point here is to take charge of your circumstances: Making no decision is essentially tantamount to deciding you will move slowly and start hiking later.

Hike “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips
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A backpacker hiking at dawn above the Lyell Fork of the Merced River, Yosemite National Park.
Mark Fenton hiking at dawn above the Lyell Fork of the Merced River in Yosemite. Click photo to read about that trip.

No. 2 Organize Gear the Night Before

Another good strategy to assure a slow departure is to leave your campsite and tent looking like a tornado swept through in the evening. The more work you leave for the morning, the longer you will delay your departure.

Instead, organize your clothes and personal items in the evening to facilitate efficiency in the morning. If water bladders or bottles need to be filled with treated water before you commence hiking in the morning, do that the night before (or even before eating dinner, rather than waiting until everyone’s tired and doesn’t want to be bothered with a chore). Store your kitchen gear together so that it’s ready to use and quickly pack up in the morning.

In your tent, keep your sleeping bag and air mattress stuff sacks handy and pack or at least organize all clothing and personal items so that they go from tent to backpack in minutes in the morning. Encourage everyone else to do the same. Example: I always had my kids put their air mat and inflatable pillow stuff sacks inside their bag stuff sack when they first set up their tent; come morning, they’re not wasting time looking for small stuff sacks buried somewhere on a tent floor that’s littered with clothing and other stuff.

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A backpacker on the Tanner Trail in the Grand Canyon.
Todd Arndt beating the heat by hiking up the Grand Canyon’s Tanner Trail in early morning. Click photo to read about “the best backpacking trip in the Grand Canyon.”

No. 3 Pack Up Gear When You Wake Up

As soon as you wake up, deflate and pack away your air mattress and pillow, stuff your sleeping bag, break down your tent and start loading your pack. You can do these things while your stove is heating up water.

If any of that gear needs drying time before packing it up, that’s all the more reason to empty the tent, lay your bag in the sun, and unstake the tent and turn it upside-down to dry the floor in the sun (because the bottom side of the floor tends to collect the most condensation). With a freestanding tent, leave the poles in place because air will circulate through the tent, drying it faster.

I’ve helped many readers plan unforgettable backpacking and hiking trips.
Want my help with yours? Click here now.

Whether you’re a beginner or seasoned backpacker, you’ll learn new tricks for making all of your trips go better in my “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” A Practical Guide to Lightweight and Ultralight Backpacking,” and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.” With a paid subscription to The Big Outside, you can read all of those three stories for free; if you don’t have a subscription, you can download the e-book versions of “12 Expert Tips for Planning a Backpacking Trip,” the lightweight and ultralight backpacking guide, and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”

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An Essentials-Only Backpacking Gear Checklist https://thebigoutsideblog.com/an-essentials-only-backpacking-gear-checklist/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/an-essentials-only-backpacking-gear-checklist/#comments Wed, 18 Jun 2025 09:10:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=24059 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

What do you need to pack for a three-season backpacking trip? While the specific items depend in part on factors like the time of year, your companions and backpacking style, the trip’s length and the weather forecast, this story provides a core checklist of essential gear to help you organize and efficiently pack—and avoid overpacking—for virtually any backpacking trip.

I use the checklist below for just about every three-season backpacking trip I take in the U.S. and around the world. I’ve developed it over more than three decades of multi-day backcountry trips and more than a quarter-century of writing about backpacking trips and testing and reviewing backpacking gear and apparel, including the 10 years I spent as a lead gear reviewer and Northwest Editor of Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


Backpackers on the Tonto Trail in the Grand Canyon.
Mark Fenton and Todd Arndt backpacking the Tonto Trail in the Grand Canyon. Click photo to read about “the best backpacking trip in the Grand Canyon.”

The list below is preceded by some insights on how I make gear choices. The links in this story and checklist will take you to menus of product reviews; photos link to stories about those trips.

See my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you plan your next trip—including answering all of your questions. Please share your thoughts on my list and tips and offer your own suggestions in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

Plan your next great backpacking trip in Yosemite, Grand Teton,
and other parks using my expert e-books.

A backpacker hiking over Clouds Rest in Yosemite National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking over Clouds Rest in Yosemite National Park. Click the photo for my e-book “The Best First Backpacking Trip in Yosemite.”

How to Decide What Gear to Pack

I pare my checklist for any specific trip down to just essentials, which vary from trip to trip. As examples, I will carry a warmer down jacket on some, a lighter one on others, or a synthetic puffy jacket if I expect wet weather. On most trips, it’s just one puffy jacket; I don’t need an extra fleece or a vest on most three-season trips because, if it’s cool in the morning, I’ll hike in my long-sleeve jersey over my T-shirt, with my shell jacket on to trap a little extra warmth if needed, and then typically for no more than an hour or two until it’s warm enough to shed one or two layers.

I bring a tent when I expect bugs or significant rainfall, but a tarp for late summer or early fall if I only need protection from possible rain—for instance, after Labor Day in Yosemite or Sequoia national parks and any of the numerous wilderness areas in the High Sierra, like the John Muir Wilderness, when you don’t have to worry about mosquitoes and rain is not common.

For base layers, I’ll bring one T-shirt and one midweight long-sleeve jersey, which I’ll usually only need hiking on cool mornings, so I can keep it dry for sleeping in when needed. I’ll bring two pairs of socks for trips of up to five days and at most three pairs of socks for trips of more than five days—and if I expect very dry conditions, two pairs may suffice even on long trips.

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Backpackers hiking to Island Lake in Wyoming's Wind River Range.
Backpackers hiking to Titcomb Basin in Wyoming’s Wind River Range. Click photo to see all stories about the Winds.

I allow myself a few luxuries on many backpacking trips, including a comfortable, lightweight or ultralight air mattress augmented by a short, folding foam sleeping pad that I use for lying around camp, as a stretching/yoga mat (which helps me feel better), and under my air mat when sleeping; plus an inflatable pillow and often an ultralight camp chair.

Incidental items like permit, passport, bug nets, gaiters, type of hat (it’s usually one wool hat and one ball cap or wide-brim sun hat), and pack cover also depend on the trip’s circumstances. I virtually always carry one DSLR body and two lenses. I’ll often have just one eating utensil and one mug/bowl that pulls double duty, and one pot, and I may just eat out of the pot. (See my reviews of cooking systems for backpacking.)

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Backpackers above the Baron Lakes in Idaho's Sawtooth Mountains.
My son, Nate, and two buddies backpacking above the Baron Lakes in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains. Click photo for my e-book “The Best Backpacking Trip in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains.”

Backpacking Gear Checklist

See my review of backpacking gear accessories for my favorite picks for many items on this checklist and click on links in this list for menus of reviews at The Big Outside.

___ GPS or mapping app (like Gaia)
___ Trail map(s)
___ First-aid kit
___ Permit and passport if needed
___ Camera, batteries, camera pack
___ Book or e-reader
___ Backpack, pack cover optional
___ Daypack if needed
___ Sleeping bag, inflatable pillow
___ Air mattress/sleeping pad
___ Chair kit
___ Tent/tarp
___ Toiletries, toothbrush, toothpaste
___ Double-bagged toilet paper
___ Stove, fuel
___ Cooking kit
___ Utensil
___ Mug/bowl/plate
___ Water bottle, bladder
___ Water treatment
___ Trekking poles
___ Headlamp, batteries
___ Compass/GPS/altimeter
___ Matches/lighter
___ Multi-tool/knife
___ Stuff sacks
___ Lashing straps, mini-biners
___ Sunglasses, eyeglasses, case
___ Bug repellent/bug nets if needed
___ Sunscreen, lip balm
___ Boots/shoes, camp footwear if needed
___ Gaiters/low gaiters
___ Gloves/mittens
___ Warm hat, earband, sun hat, rain hat
___ Rain shell
___ T-shirt, long-sleeve shirt
___ Shorts, pants
___ Long underwear if needed
___ Underwear
___ Insulation/puffy jacket
___ Socks

I can help you plan the best backpacking, hiking, or family adventure of your life.
Find out more here.

See “5 Smart Steps to Lighten Your Backpacking Gear” and this menu of stories with expert tips on backpacking.

Whether you’re a beginner or seasoned backpacker, you’ll learn new tricks for making all of your trips go better in my “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” A Practical Guide to Lightweight and Ultralight Backpacking,” and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.” With a paid subscription to The Big Outside, you can read all of those three stories for free; if you don’t have a subscription, you can download the e-book versions of “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” the lightweight and ultralight backpacking guide, and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”

NOTE: I tested gear for Backpacker magazine for 20 years. At The Big Outside, I review only what I consider the best outdoor gear and apparel. See The Big Outside’s Gear Reviews page for categorized menus of all my reviews and expert buying tips.

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The Fine Art of Stashing a Backpack in the Woods https://thebigoutsideblog.com/the-fine-art-of-stashing-a-backpack-in-the-woods/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/the-fine-art-of-stashing-a-backpack-in-the-woods/#comments Tue, 17 Jun 2025 09:00:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=24105 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Stashing a backpack in the woods is just what it sounds like. If you’re on a multi-day backpacking trip and want to take a side hike of any significant distance, like to a summit, and then return to the same spot to resume your backpacking route, it’s a waste of energy (not to mention entirely pointless) to carry your heavy pack with you. But there are ways to do it wrong, and ways to make sure your pack and everything inside it are still there and not torn apart or gone when you return. Here’s how to do it right.

The tips below are drawn from my experience of many thousands of trail miles and more than three decades of backpacking—including more than a quarter-century of doing this professionally and testing and reviewing gear as a past field editor for Backpacker magazine and running this blog. And like many stories at The Big Outside, part of this story is free for anyone to read, but reading all of my tips in this story requires a paid subscription to this blog.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A backpacker hiking the Spray Park Trail in Mount Rainier National Park.
Todd Arndt hiking the Spray Park Trail in Mount Rainier National Park. Click photo to read about that trip.

Basically, you want to make sure no animals (including humans) will find it and take or damage the pack or anything inside. Most hikers aren’t dishonest, but some adults might mistakenly think a pack was inadvertently left behind and assume it’s fair game for whomever finds it, or that they should deliver it to whatever agency manages the land so that its owner might reclaim it later (which is not helpful to you for the remainder of your hike); and kids will more readily take something they find.

That’s more of a concern for me on popular hikes that attract a lot of inexperienced hikers. In more remote areas, where you’ll generally only see experienced backpackers who aren’t likely to make that assumption, I worry less about a pack being visible to people.

Wild animals are a concern virtually everywhere. Rodents, squirrels, and larger animals like raccoons and bears can be attracted by food odors and might chew through or tear up your pack to get food. Many animals, including bears, have a much stronger sense of smell than people, so they’ll find a pack that’s well hidden from sight. Other animals, like deer and mountain goats, will lick or chew on pack straps and hipbelts for the salt left behind when you perspire, and can cause damage.

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A backpacker on the Bechler River Trail, Yellowstone National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking the Bechler River Trail, Yellowstone National Park. Click photo to read about that trip.

Since you can’t lock up a backpack, you have to hide it in a way that avoids attracting an animal to it. Here’s how:

• If stashing it in an area with heavy human traffic, look around for a spot well off the trail and hidden from sight, in trees or bushes or behind a large rock, beyond where people are congregating or walking. If you’re in open terrain with little or no vegetation, you may have to walk farther off the trail to leave the pack hidden by a terrain feature out of sight of the trail.

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Ramona Falls on the Timberline Trail, Mount Hood, Oregon.
Ramona Falls, on the Timberline Trail around Oregon’s Mount Hood. Click photo to read about that trip.

The steps I’ve suggested above may seem inconvenient or time-consuming. But it really only takes a few minutes to properly hide a backpack and food, and it prevents a much larger problem that can result from a person or, more likely, an animal discovering and taking or damaging your pack and food.

Whether you’re a beginner or seasoned backpacker, you’ll learn new tricks for making all of your trips go better in my “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” A Practical Guide to Lightweight and Ultralight Backpacking,” and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.” With a paid subscription to The Big Outside, you can read all of those three stories for free; if you don’t have a subscription, you can download the e-book versions of “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” the lightweight and ultralight backpacking guide, and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”

See a menu of all stories about backcountry skills at The Big Outside.

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Click here now to learn more.

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How to Backpack the Teton Crest Trail Without a Permit https://thebigoutsideblog.com/how-to-backpack-the-teton-crest-trail-without-a-permit/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/how-to-backpack-the-teton-crest-trail-without-a-permit/#comments Mon, 16 Jun 2025 09:05:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=47074 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

So you just got the inspired idea to backpack the Teton Crest Trail and discovered you’re months late to reserve a backcountry permit. You’ve probably also learned that it’s possible to get a walk-in backcountry permit for Grand Teton National Park—but competition for those is high, especially for the camping zones along the TCT.

So you’re wondering: Is it possible to backpack the Teton Crest Trail without a permit? In a word, the answer is: yes. It’s somewhat complicated and not easy, but this story explains how to do that.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


Backpackers on the Teton Crest Trail on Death Canyon Shelf, Grand Teton National Park.
Backpackers on the Teton Crest Trail on Death Canyon Shelf, Grand Teton National Park. Click photo for my expert e-book to backpacking the Teton Crest Trail.

The Teton Crest Trail deservedly sees sky-high demand for backcountry permits. It’s unquestionably one of the 10 best backpacking trips in America, incredibly scenic virtually every step from start to finish, featuring high passes with sweeping vistas, endless meadows bursting with wildflowers, beautiful lakes, creeks, and waterfalls, a good chance of seeing wildlife like elk and moose—and some of the best campsites you will ever pitch a tent in.

I’ve taken at least two dozen trips in the Tetons and several on the Teton Crest Trail over the past three decades, including the 10 years I spent as Northwest Editor of Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog.

See my story about my most-recent TCT trip, “A Wonderful Obsession: Backpacking the Teton Crest Trail,” which requires a paid subscription to The Big Outside to read in full, including some of my tips and information on planning a TCT backpacking trip. For much more information on planning this trip, get my expert e-book “The Complete Guide to Backpacking the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park.”

A backpacker on the Teton Crest Trail, North Fork Cascade Canyon, Grand Teton National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking the Teton Crest Trail in the North Fork Cascade Canyon, Grand Teton National Park. Click photo to see all stories at The Big Outside about backpacking the Teton Crest Trail.

I’ve also helped many readers plan a backpacking trip in the Tetons and elsewhere, answering all of their questions and customizing an itinerary ideal for them—whether helping them navigate applying for a backcountry permit reservation in advance or obtaining a walk-in permit. See my Custom Trip Planning page to learn more.

Please share any thoughts, questions, or your own tips in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments. Like many stories at The Big Outside, part of this story is free for anyone to read, but reading all of it—including my key tips on the strategy for backpacking the Teton Crest Trail without a permit—is an exclusive benefit for readers with a paid subscription to The Big Outside. If you’re already a subscriber, thank you for that, I appreciate it.

Dying to backpack in the Tetons? See my e-books to the Teton Crest Trail and
the best short backpacking trip there.

A backpacker on the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park.
David Gordon backpacking the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park. Click photo to read about backpacking the Teton Crest Trail.

It’s Probably Too Late to Reserve a Permit

In Grand Teton, for trips between May 1 and Oct. 31, permit reservations opened at recreation.gov at 8 a.m. Mountain Time on Jan. 7, 2025, and can be made up to two days before your trip start date. But most reservable backcountry camping, including camping zones along the Teton Crest Trail, get booked up within minutes after the system starts accepting reservations.

Given the huge demand for reservations and the fact that they get booked up so quickly, there’s effectively just one day every year when you can reserve a permit for backpacking the Teton Crest Trail. Once reservations close in May, the only option left is a walk-in permit.

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A backpacker above the South Fork Cascade Canyon on the Teton Crest Trail, Grand Teton N.P.
Todd Arndt above the Schoolroom Glacier and the South Fork Cascade Canyon on the Teton Crest Trail. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan this trip.

You Can Get a Walk-In Permit

Like virtually all national parks, Grand Teton National Park has a walk-in or first-come backcountry permit option that allows you to grab a last-minute permit, without a reservation, based on availability, no more than a day in advance of starting a multi-day hike in the park’s backcountry. Grand Teton National Park sets aside two-thirds of backcountry campsites for walk-in permits—a higher portion than most major parks.

Getting a walk-in permit isn’t impossible—numerous backpackers get one every summer. But it requires some flexibility in your schedule and a willingness to accept whatever camping zones have availability when you arrive at a park backcountry desk to speak to a ranger. Plan to arrive hours before the backcountry desk opens (they’re located in park visitor centers) to get a spot near the front of the line that inevitably forms in the wee hours. You might not get the itinerary you want.

See my story “How to Get a Last-Minute, National Park Backcountry Permit.”

Read all of this story and ALL stories at The Big Outside,
plus get a FREE e-book! Join now!

A backpacker at Lake Solitude on the Teton Crest Trail, Grand Teton National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm at Lake Solitude in the North Fork Cascade Canyon. Click photo for my expert e-book “The Complete Guide to Backpacking the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park.”

How to Backpack the TCT Without a Permit

To backpack the Teton Crest Trail legally without a permit you must camp every night outside Grand Teton National Park. And don’t poach backcountry camping in the park without a permit. Backcountry rangers patrol and getting caught risks a penalty and I can tell you from personal experience (long ago), it’s embarrassing.

Fortunately, the TCT wanders in and out of park boundaries and signs along trails clearly indicate when you’re crossing a park boundary. The challenge is that you must be able to hike at least one big day to link up campsites outside the park, particularly through the TCT’s northern stretch—which harbors the most glorious hiking on the trail.

Here’s how to do that.

I’ve helped many readers plan an unforgettable backpacking trip on the Teton Crest Trail.
Want my help with yours? Find out more here.

A bull moose seen from the Teton Crest Trail in the North Fork Cascade Canyon, Grand Teton N.P.
A bull moose seen from the Teton Crest Trail in the North Fork Cascade Canyon, Grand Teton N.P.

Grand Teton National Park requires storing food in a hard-sided bear canister; although you’re not subject to park regulations when camping outside the park, a canister still offers the best protection. See my favorite bear canister in my review of essential backpacking gear accessories.

See all stories about backpacking in Grand Teton National Park at The Big Outside, including “5 Reasons You Must Backpack the Teton Crest Trail,” The 5 Best Backpacking Trips in Grand Teton National Park,” and “A Wonderful Obsession: Backpacking the Teton Crest Trail.”

And see all stories about backcountry skills at The Big Outside.

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10 Tips for Taking Kids on Their First Backpacking Trip https://thebigoutsideblog.com/10-tips-for-taking-kids-on-their-first-backpacking-trip/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/10-tips-for-taking-kids-on-their-first-backpacking-trip/#comments Sun, 15 Jun 2025 09:05:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=47359 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Whether you’re a family of novices planning your first backpacking trip or an experienced backpacker ready to take your kids on their first multi-day hike, heed this friendly advice: You’re in for some surprises. And I speak from experience. I’d been backpacking for years—in fact, I was already working as a professional backpacker—when my wife (also a longtime backpacker) and I first dove into the grand new adventure of taking our young kids into the wilderness.

We learned a lot. But the biggest lesson was this: Our backcountry adventures brought us closer together as a family and helped mold our children into eager and skilled backpackers and confident young adults with a passion and appreciation for the outdoors—and who seize every chance to spend time with us (their parents!) outdoors (and indoors!).

This article shares lessons I learned while taking our kids on countless backpacking trips since they were quite little and over the course of the 10 years I spent as Northwest Editor of Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A young girl backpacking the High Sierra Trail above Hamilton Lakes, Sequoia National Park.
My daughter, Alex, backpacking the High Sierra Trail above Hamilton Lakes, Sequoia National Park.

Follow the tips below to make your family backpacking trips a success and ensure that your kids want to go again and again. Like many stories at The Big Outside, much of this one is free for anyone to read but reading the entire story requires a paid subscription. If you’re already a subscriber, thank you for supporting my blog.

Please share your thoughts, questions, or your own tips in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments. Click on any photo to read about that trip.

Check out my expert e-books to classic backpacking trips and my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you plan your next great adventure.

Planning a backpacking trip? See “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips
and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”

A family on a hike in Idaho's City of Rocks National Reserve.
My family on a hike in Idaho’s City of Rocks National Reserve. Click photo to read my “10 Tips for Raising Outdoors-Loving Kids.”

1. Car-Camp and Dayhike First

My wife and I were avid and experienced backpackers before our two kids came along and we took our first child backpacking when he was a baby and toddler. But once our daughter joined the pack—and we had two in diapers, with all the stuff you have to carry with children that young—we shifted for about five years to dayhiking and car-camping as a family (and taking our adult backpacking trips whenever possible, separately or together).

Both proved a great means of preparing kids for backpacking. Our family hiking together became normal and familiar to them before their oldest memories and we got a sense of our kids’ hiking abilities—making the transition to backpacking easier for all of us. Similarly, car-camping helped us dial in our systems and gear for backpacking and probably made backpacking seem ordinary to our kids.

Once our youngest was five years old and could hike more than a few miles, we resumed family backpacking trips. I also established a tradition of annual father-son and father-daughter trips, creating very special one-on-one time together.


Backpacking Parent Tip Kids up to about age four roll around a lot in their sleep—often sliding out of a sleeping bag. We learned to just bring a child’s favorite blanket or two camping (on relatively mild summer nights). It’s much easier to throw a blanket over a kid in the middle of the night then to keep stuffing her back inside a bag.


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Backpackers on the Teton Crest Trail on Death Canyon Shelf, Grand Teton National Park.
Hiking the Teton Crest Trail across Death Canyon Shelf on a family backpacking trip. Click photo to get my help planning your family backpacking trip.

2. Don’t Get Overambitious

If you backpacked pre-kids, this won’t be like that. And even if your kids are good dayhikers, backpacking changes the entire dynamic. Your kids may be carrying more (see more on that in tip no. 8, below), but at the least, you are carrying much more weight and getting somewhere grows more complicated.

Myriad obstacles slow you down—most often that kids up to tweeners simply don’t hike fast, get distracted, and need frequent rest breaks and snacks. Set modest goals for distance and especially elevation gain and loss. Take your first trips on good trails that aren’t too difficult and have frequent, reliable water sources.


Backpacking Parent Tip Have a bailout plan. Be ready to accept that it may not go well the first time and a safe retreat is preferable to a loss. The only “failure” is if the kids don’t like it and don’t want to go again. Remember that your goal is their enjoyment, not yours—your reward will be seeing their joy and, when they’re older, their eagerness to do this more with you.


I’ve helped many readers plan unforgettable backpacking and hiking trips.
Want my help with yours? Click here now.

A teenage boy backpacking in Idaho's White Cloud Mountains.
My son, Nate, backpacking in Idaho’s White Cloud Mountains.

3. Outfit Them With the Right Gear

We heard the young girl crying through the howling wind and July snowstorm on Besseggen Ridge in Norway’s mountainous Jotunheimen National Park. We caught up with the family and saw that she was eight or nine years old, crying inconsolably and repeating one word over and over: “Cold! Cold!”

A young boy backpacking below Alice Lake in Idaho's Sawtooth Mountains.
My son, Nate, backpacking below Alice Lake in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains. Click photo for my e-book to the best backpacking trip in the Sawtooths.

We stopped to ask if they were all right. The parents and two teenage boys were dressed for the weather in good boots, enough insulation, and shells. The young girl, inexplicably, wore open-top rubber boots, tights, and the kind of winter jacket you’d buy in Wal-Mart. She walked very slowly. She clearly was hypothermic and only getting colder. The next hut was several miles ahead of us.

We convinced them to turn around and walk downhill to the Gjendesheim hut, just a few miles back. There, they could take a ferry across a lake to the next hut. (In fact, my wife and kids had taken that ferry instead of hiking through the storm.) We saw them that evening in the hut, warm and happy.

Children need functional gear—most critically a backpack and boots that fit properly and are appropriate for what they’re doing—and a versatile layering system just as much as adults do. Yes, that can get a little expensive, but cutting corners risks creating an uncomfortable, negative experience for your child and, at worst, placing him in danger of hypothermia or worse.

Plus, good-quality kids’ outdoor clothing and gear can often be obtained inexpensively. See my “10 Tips for Spending Less on Hiking and Backpacking Gear.”

Most importantly, check that they’ve brought everything they need before you leave home—my son, at age 11, once forgot to pack his rain shell, fleece jacket, and warm hat for a five-day backpacking trip in Oregon’s Eagle Cap Wilderness. (He survived just fine. I felt a little chilly in camp with him wearing my down jacket.) And make sure they’re adjusting layers as needed in the backcountry and learn how and when to do that.

Plan your next great backpacking trip on the Teton Crest Trail, Wonderland Trail,
in Yosemite or other parks using my expert e-books.

Young boy on a backpacking trip in Yosemite National Park.
My son, Nate, on a backpacking trip in Yosemite National Park. Click photo for my e-book “The Best First Backpacking Trip in Yosemite.”

4. Go at Their Pace But Meet Them Halfway

Young kids are not in any hurry on the trail. They want to stop and play in a creek, stream, or lake. They want to throw small rocks and climb on big rocks. They certainly want to watch animals. This is all good and you should encourage it: Children want to interact with their environment—which makes this fun for them. (That’s why tip no. 2 is important.)

But you also have a campsite to reach every day. Give them the time to stop and play and explore along the way—it also lets you set that heavy pack down for a bit—and join them exploring because they long for your attention (see the Backpacking Parent Tip under tip no. 6).

But remind them that you have to move along at some point. Tell them they’re going to love the campsite (and make sure you deliver on that—see tip no. 7).


Backpacking Parent Tip When our kids were little, we established a tradition: Every day on the trail, they got a chocolate bar when we were halfway to that day’s destination. (We got one, too.) It was a good motivator that we also used on dayhikes.


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Young girls snacking while hiking in the Needles District of Canyonlands National Park.
My daughter, Alex (middle), with friends Sofi and Lili on a backpacking trip in the Needles District of Canyonlands National Park.

5. Keep Feeding Them

I’ve been reminded of this truth countless times: A kid who’s griping about being tired is usually just hungry. Give her a big chocolate bar or energy bar or stop for lunch. Children need to eat more frequently than adults—sometimes every hour, especially when they’re small.

Look for warning signs: a slowing pace, growing quiet or grumpy, or a faraway look. Feed them before they scream, “I’m starving!” Ditto with water. Most kids sip rather than gulp, so remind them every 15 or 20 minutes, “Everyone take a big drink.” Giving each kid a hydration bladder helps. Don’t let them get dehydrated—that takes longer to fix than eating does.

As for meals, my wife and I have always kept it simple, preparing what we knew our kids would eat and that wouldn’t require much prep or cleanup.


Backpacking Parent Tip Don’t let a kid hit the wall. When he’s obviously in need of fuel, resist the urge to insist, “Let’s just hike a little farther” unless you intend to stop very soon. Take a few minutes and give him something to eat. You will spare yourself much unnecessary grief.


Start out right. See “10 Perfect National Park Backpacking Trips for Beginners
and “The 5 Southwest Backpacking Trips You Should Do First.”

A group of adult and children backpackers at Buck Creek Pass in the Glacier Peak Wilderness.
My family and friends on a backpacking trip at Buck Creek Pass in the Glacier Peak Wilderness.

6. Talk and Play Games

When our kids were young, my family played word and number games while hiking for hours—it helped the time pass for our kids and was genuinely fun: We’d laugh for hours.

One favorite was “The Story Game:” One of us would begin making up a story with a few sentences and each of us would add some piece of narrative in turn, over and over, until it reached some conclusion. Our kids often introduced bizarre plot twists that reduced them to paroxysms of cackling.

That regular practice, I believe, set the stage for the long, engaging conversations we had while hiking with our kids once they became teenagers—because they had come to recognize this as an opportunity for us to spend extended periods of time talking to each other.

In camp, we’d also play games together, typically those that were easy to carry, like a deck of cards or, in the case of my daughter and me, working on Sudoku puzzles together on a tablet.


Backpacking Parent Tip To a young kid, a parent’s attention is everything. Even teenagers covet your approval, even if they don’t show it. Nothing you can do will make them want to do this again more than your full attention. Besides, few times provide so much undistracted time together as being in the backcountry—away from our phones and devices. That, I came to learn, delivers the greatest value of family backpacking trips.


Like this story? You may also like my “10 Tips For Raising Outdoors-Loving Kids
and “The 10 Best Family Outdoor Adventure Trips.”

See my stories “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” “How to Decide Where to Go Backpacking,” “10 Tips for Keeping Kids Happy and Safe Outdoors,” “The 5 Best Tips For Hiking With Young Kids,” and “5 Questions to Ask Before Trying a New Outdoors Adventure.”

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10 Tips For Raising Outdoors-Loving Kids https://thebigoutsideblog.com/10-tips-for-raising-outdoors-loving-kids/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/10-tips-for-raising-outdoors-loving-kids/#comments Sun, 15 Jun 2025 09:02:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=3492 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

As we neared Gunsight Pass in Glacier National Park, on a three-day family backpacking trip, a man and woman in their fifties stopped to talk with us. They sized up our kids and smiled; Nate was nine and Alex was seven. “We’re impressed!” they told us. “We never had any luck trying to get our kids to backpack when they were young.” We chatted a bit and then headed off in opposite directions on the trail.

After they were out of earshot, Alex turned to me, wanting to clarify a point: “You didn’t get us to do this,” she told me. “We wanted to do it.” Her words, of course, warmed my heart. But her comment also spotlighted the biggest lesson for parents hoping to raise their kids to love the outdoors: Create experiences that make them eager to go out again the next time.

Sure, all kids are different. Offering advice to parents on how to raise their kids treads on dangerous ground—kind of like telling members of my extended Italian-American family how to make pasta sauce.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


Young kids hiking the Gunsight Pass Trail in Glacier National Park.
My kids hiking the Gunsight Pass Trail in Glacier National Park.

But my wife and I have had good success. Our kids are now young adults and and still look forward to our regular backpacking, skiing, paddling, and other adventures. They also amassed an impressive list of pretty hard-core trips on their wilderness CVs by a very young age, from sea kayaking in Alaska’s Glacier Bay and descending a technical slot canyon in Utah’s Capitol Reef National Park, to numerous backpacking trips in national parks like Grand Teton, Zion, Olympic, and the Grand Canyon, and trekking hut to hut in Italy’s Dolomite Mountains, Norway’s Jotunheimen National Park, on the Tour du Mont Blanc, and in Spain’s Picos de Europa, among other international adventures.

(See a menu of stories about many of our trips at my Family Adventures page, and see my Book page to read about the year we spent taking wilderness adventures in national parks threatened by climate change.)

I think much of what we’ve learned could be helpful to most families, and it boils down to these 10 basic guidelines laid out below. Like many stories at The Big Outside, part of this story requires a paid subscription to read: The first six tips below are free for anyone to read, but reading the rest—including tips I don’t think you’ll find from other sources—is an exclusive benefit for readers with a paid subscription to The Big Outside. If you’re already a subscriber, thank you for that, I appreciate it.

See the many comments at the bottom of this story, and please share your own thoughts, questions, experiences, and tips there, too. I try to respond to all comments. Click on any photo to see the story about it.

A toddler girl sitting in Skillern Hot Springs in Idaho's Smoky Mountains.
My daughter, Alex, on an early family backpacking trip to Skillern Hot Springs in Idaho’s Smoky Mountains.

1. Give Away Your Baby Stroller

As soon as your toddler can walk, give some friends that stroller and let your child walk everywhere you go, whether around town or on a trail. Sure, walking with a little one requires patience. But it turns children into strong hikers at a young age and gets them used to the idea that they will walk rather than be carried.

I preferred a child-carrier backpack to a stroller, even in urban settings, for those occasions when one of my kids needed a break from walking. It gives you exercise, is more convenient on stairs, and helps communicate to kids that our family carries packs—that we’re hikers.

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Young children rock climbing at Idaho's City of Rocks National Reserve.
Alex and Nate rock climbing at Idaho’s City of Rocks.

2. Don’t Give in to Frustration and Apathy

Let’s face it: Hiking, camping, or doing almost anything outdoors with babies, toddlers, and preschoolers is often more work than fun. Don’t get discouraged; take them out anyway. If you wait until they’re older, you may find that your child isn’t interested. Introduce children to the outdoors while they’re very young and make it part of your family lifestyle, so that you nurture in them a long-term love for it.

I can help you plan the best backpacking, hiking, or family adventure of your life.
Click here now to learn more.

The Big Outside's Michael Lanza sea kayaking with his family in Johns Hopkins Inlet, Glacier Bay National Park.
Our family sea kayaking in Johns Hopkins Inlet, Glacier Bay National Park.

3. Take Baby Steps

Don’t push your kids too hard. This one’s especially hard for parents who have always been very active, but pushing them risks creating a negative association with the outdoors. Start small, with short hikes, and work gradually up to longer outings. Think of it as pulling them along rather than pushing them. This also helps prevent the need to abandon plans, which is sometimes necessary (see tip #5) but can be disappointing for everyone involved.

What’s familiar and easy to you may seem scary and intimidating to a kid. Evaluate your child’s readiness for something new based not just on its physical difficulty, but how well your child handled previous experiences that presented comparable stress.

Example: When I considered taking my kids, at age nine and seven, sea kayaking and wilderness camping for five days in Glacier Bay, Alaska, I decided they were ready for it because they had done several backpacking trips, rock climbed, floated and camped on a wilderness river, and cross-country skied through snowstorms to backcountry yurts. They had managed stressful situations well and understood the need to follow instructions and that trips have uncomfortable moments. Despite how wet and raw it was at times, they loved Glacier Bay.

The Big Outside will help your family get outdoors more.
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Capitol Reef National Park, Utah
Nate in a slot canyon, Capitol Reef National Park.

4. Employ Bribery Strategically

Bring along motivators like their favorite candy bar to eat halfway through a hike and a favorite stuffed animal. Do things that create positive associations for kids, like giving them their own gear (headlamp, pack, walkie-talkie, etc.), and letting them be the hike leader or take charge pitching the tent.

Remember: What a child says now does not necessarily reflect how she will feel 20 minutes from now. I’ve been reminded time and time again that a seemingly tired kid is often just a hungry kid. They don’t have nearly the fat reserves and muscle mass of adults, so they need to rest and refuel more frequently, sometimes every hour.

Look for warning signs: grumpiness, a slowing pace, growing quiet, or a faraway look. Remind them frequently to take a drink. A 10-minute rest and a fat chocolate bar can swing a kid’s attitude 180 degrees.

Keep the magic going with my “10 Tips For Getting Your Teenager Outdoors With You
and my “7 Tips for Getting Your Family on Outdoor Adventure Trips.”

 

A raft filled with children running Cliffside Rapid on Idaho's Middle Fork Salmon River.
Alex (center, upright) in “the kids raft” running Cliffside Rapid on Idaho’s Middle Fork Salmon River.

5. Tear Up Your Agenda

Whether hiking with kids or on a serious mountain climb, I think people often get into trouble simply because they focus too much on the destination, overlooking that it’s really about the journey. Don’t be so wedded to your agenda that you fail to see when it’s time to switch to Plan B.

Taking children outdoors, especially younger ones, does not always go according to plan. Adults hike for exercise, the views, and to get somewhere; young kids want to throw rocks in a creek and play in the mud. Let them. Explain to kids that there will be time for playing, but also a time for hiking. Encourage your teenager to invite along a friend. Find a balance that makes everyone happy, giving children some say without relinquishing all control.

Take a great, family-friendly backpacking trip using my expert e-books.
Click here now to see them all.

A young girl backpacking the High Sierra Trail above Hamilton Lakes, Sequoia National Park.
My daughter, Alex, backpacking the High Sierra Trail above Hamilton Lakes, Sequoia National Park.

6. Talk and Listen

Establish a rule up front: no whining. Tell your children they can talk about any situation they’re not happy with, but draw the line at complaining just to complain. Everyone will be happier.

At the same time, explain to your kids what you will be doing and what’s expected of them. Welcome their questions and address their concerns. Make sure they know that you won’t ask them to do anything they are not comfortable with, and that you will provide whatever help they need. Make them feel like they’re part of the decision-making process, so they have a sense of control over their own fate, which goes a long way toward relieving stress, no matter what your age.

I’m also a big believer in taking charge when necessary. My friend Shelli Johnson, a life and leadership coach, adventure guide, and blogger at yourepiclife.com, framed this advice wonderfully: “If you want to go hiking as a family, don’t ask your child or children, ‘Do you want to go hiking?’ Just say, ‘We’re going hiking.’ Trust me on this. You’re in charge, and if you’re serious about wanting a family that hikes and spends a lot of time outdoors, be the captain.”

Planning a backpacking trip? See “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips
and “10 Tips for Taking Kids on Their First Backpacking Trip.”

 

See a menu of all stories about our many family outdoor adventures at my Family Adventures page at The Big Outside.

I wrote about taking our young kids on 11 wilderness adventures in national parks facing threats from climate change in my National Outdoor Book Awards-winning book, Before They’re Gone—A Family’s Year-Long Quest to Explore America’s Most Endangered National Parks, from Beacon Press.

Let The Big Outside help you find the best adventures.
Join now for full access to ALL stories and get a free e-book!

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12 Tips For Getting Your Teenager Outdoors With You https://thebigoutsideblog.com/10-tips-for-getting-your-teenager-outdoors-with-you/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/10-tips-for-getting-your-teenager-outdoors-with-you/#comments Sun, 15 Jun 2025 09:00:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=17155 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

“That sounds totally boring.” “Other parents don’t force their kids to do things they don’t want to do.” “I hate (fill in the activity).” If you’re a parent of a teenager, you’ve probably heard these responses from your child, or any of an infinite number of variations on them—like a personal favorite that one of my kids, at 14, laid on me: “You get to choose your friends, but you don’t get to choose your family.” If you’re trying to persuade a teen to get outdoors with you—which often entails pulling him or her away from an electronic screen—your child can summon powers of resistance that conjure mental images of Superman stopping a high-speed train.

My kids, now young adults, have taken far more backpacking trips and other outdoor adventures than they can remember, paddled whitewater rivers and waters from Alaska’s Glacier Bay to Florida’s Everglades and Idaho’s Middle Fork of the Salmon River, and skied and rock climbed since they were preschoolers—and they are still eager to take trips with my wife and me. Although we no longer encounter blowback to our plans to do something outdoors together, that certainly persisted well into their teen years. But as teens, our kids usually looked forward to our adventures. This story shares the reasons why.

Following up on my popular “10 Tips For Raising Outdoors-Loving Kids,” mostly intended for parents of younger children, the tips below summarize what I’ve learned from many outdoors adventures with increasingly independent young people—who happen to share my genetic makeup.

Like many stories at The Big Outside, part of this story requires a paid subscription to read: The first six tips below are free for anyone to read, but reading the rest—including tips I don’t think you’ll find from other sources—is an exclusive benefit for readers with a paid subscription to The Big Outside. If you’re already a subscriber, thank you for that, I appreciate it.

Click on any photo to read about that trip. Please share your thoughts on my advice or your own tips in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A teenage boy backpacking in Idaho's White Cloud Mountains.
My son, Nate, at 15, on a father-son backpacking trip in Idaho’s White Cloud Mountains.

#1 Establish a Tradition

I took my son on our first father-son “Boy Trip” (the name he gave it), backpacking in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains, when he was six. My first father-daughter adventure (yup, our “Girl Trip”—her name) followed within a few years, and we have kept the tradition alive most years since.

Similarly, our family and another with kids close in age began taking an annual ski trip to a backcountry yurt when the children ranged in age from seven to four. The boy trip, girl trip, and yurt trip have become staples of our annual travel calendar, considered as sacrosanct as birthdays—and each involves days spent entirely disconnected in remote backcountry.

Ideally, start a regular tradition of an outdoors adventure when kids are fairly young—but your child is never too old to begin. With a teenager, you may need to up the excitement stakes, like climbing a big mountain together. Find whatever it is that excites everyone involved; it may be the same activity or destination every year, or something perennially different. There are no rules, except to make it strictly about spending a lot of quality time together.

Planning your next big adventure? See “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips
and “The 25 Best National Park Dayhikes.”

Nate, at 14, kayaking Marble Rapid on Idaho’s Middle Fork Salmon River.

#2 Encourage Their Interests

My wife and I introduced our children to dayhiking and backpacking, skiing, rock climbing, and paddling on easier rivers and protected bays, with the occasional, guided whitewater rafting adventure. Then our son, at age 12, decided on his own to take up whitewater kayaking. We sent him for several summers to a four-day whitewater kayaking camp near our home; through that instruction, and lots of practice on Idaho’s beautiful and fun rivers, he has developed into a competent boater.

Most importantly, he loves it and does it safely. But by encouraging his new interest, we not only gave him the freedom to embrace the outdoors in his way, we’ve also reaped the benefits of having someone in our family who expanded our horizons. Our family now does much more whitewater kayaking (our son in his hard-shell boat, the rest of us in inflatable kayaks), including rafting and kayaking one of the West’s classic wilderness rivers, Idaho’s Middle Fork of the Salmon.

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#3 Do Something Really Cool

A young teenage boy hiking in Peek-a-Boo Gulch, Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument, Utah.
Nate hiking in Peek-a-Boo Gulch, Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument, Utah.

On a two-family, spring break trip to southern Utah, the parents wanted to take some scenic dayhikes in places like Capitol Reef and Bryce Canyon national parks—which the four youths deemed “boring.”

But when the other dad and I took them on a three-hour, late-afternoon hike through the slot canyons Peek-a-Boo Gulch and Spooky Gulch in the Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument, squeezing between wildly curved walls frequently closer than shoulder-width apart, all we heard from them was laughter and expressions of awe.

Some places and experiences are so fascinating and fun that even teens can’t find a reason to complain. It may require a little research, but surprise your teenager with activities and destinations that will excite him—or perhaps even better, ask your kid to help you research and plan your trip, finding those things that will excite them and getting him or her emotionally invested in the entire plan.

See my story about that hike and others, “Playing the Memory Game in Southern Utah’s Escalante, Capitol Reef, and Bryce Canyon.”

I can help you plan the best backpacking, hiking, or family adventure of your life.
Click here now to learn more.

A father and teenage son climbing the Mountaineers Route on California's Mount Whitney.
Nate and me climbing the Mountaineers Route on California’s Mount Whitney.

#4 Pick a Shared Goal

When I went to our then-15-year-old son with a proposal that he and I climb a technical route up the highest peak in the Lower 48 states, California’s 14,505-foot Mount Whitney, to raise money for an organization that introduces kids his age to the outdoors, he loved the idea and, months later, he and I made that climb together.

During my years as a field editor with Backpacker magazine, I participated in two of the first Summit For Someone fundraiser mountain climbs for Big City Mountaineers, a non-profit that takes underprivileged, urban teenagers on multi-day wilderness adventures. I believe strongly in the critical importance of BCM’s work in helping to ensure that the generation growing up today sustains America’s outdoors heritage.

Nate gleaned the importance of helping give opportunities like this to other young people while he and I pursued a big, shared goal together. (One ancillary benefit: Preparing for a rigorous, four-day snow climb up a big mountain helped motivate him to exercise regularly to train for it.)

Whether it’s a mountain climb or something else, find a shared goal that will challenge and excite you and your kid. You may both grow personally from it in ways that surprise you, while opening new doors in your relationship with your child.

The Big Outside will help your family get outdoors more.
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Three teenage boys on a 17-mile dayhike in the Presidential Range, N.H.
Nate, my nephew Marco, and Marco’s friend Liam on a 17-mile dayhike in the Presidential Range, N.H.

#5 Let Them Bring a Friend

When I invited my 17-year-old nephew, Marco, on what I knew would be an extremely difficult, 17-mile, 6,800-foot dayhike in the rugged Northern Presidential Range of New Hampshire’s White Mountains, he asked about bringing a friend. Marco had done a comparably hard dayhike in the Whites with me the year before, but I didn’t know anything about his friend except that they were soccer teammates. So I got on the phone with that boy’s father, told him about our plans in detail—partly because, as a parent, I’d want to know more about whoever was taking my kid on such a demanding adventure—and he told me why he thought his son would do fine.

Although it was a really tough, 15-hour day, ending by headlamps long after dark, all of the kids—including Nate, who was 14—did great and went home with a memorable war story to tell. But more importantly, they emerged from the experience eager for more.

Letting a teenage son or daughter invite a friend along has long been a staple parenting strategy. It’s no different for outdoor adventures—just a little trickier in that you want to make sure the friend is up to whatever challenges he or she will face.

Even better than finding the one friend who becomes the perfect adventure mate for your child is discovering an entire family that pairs well with your clan—parents and kids. That’s gold.

Take a great, family-friendly backpacking trip using my expert e-books.
Click here now to see them all.

A young teenage girl descending from the Fenetre d’Arpette on the Tour du Mont Blanc in Switzerland.
My daughter, Alex, descending the steep trail from the Fenetre d’Arpette pass on the Tour du Mont Blanc in Switzerland. Click the photo for my Tour du Mont Blanc e-guide.

#6 Talk About the Outdoors

This tip may ring familiar to anyone who’s read my “10 Tips For Raising Outdoors-Loving Kids,” in which I advise parents to “Work Your P.R.” All that changes with older kids is how you talk about it. Put your enthusiasm about the outdoors on display. Don’t shove it down a kid’s throat, but when an opportunity presents itself—when your child looks interested—talk about what you love.

Show teens an inspirational online video (a medium they trust and connect with). When the Banff Mountain Film Festival Tour comes to our city every winter, showing dozens of the year’s prize-winning films about the outdoors, we take our kids, and we all go home jonesing for our next adventure.

Planning a backpacking trip? See “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips
and “10 Tips for Taking Kids on Their First Backpacking Trip.”

 

See all stories about family adventures and my All Trips List at The Big Outside.

Let The Big Outside help you find the best adventures.
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7 Tips For Getting Your Family on Outdoor Adventure Trips https://thebigoutsideblog.com/7-tips-for-getting-your-family-on-outdoor-adventure-trips/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/7-tips-for-getting-your-family-on-outdoor-adventure-trips/#comments Thu, 12 Jun 2025 09:00:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=26950 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

In the Digital Era, the idea of families spending sustained time outdoors—actually taking trips built around some outdoor adventure enjoyed together—can feel like a wonderful aspiration that’s awfully hard to achieve. But that lifestyle is a reality for many families—and always has been for mine—and one that brings parents and children together for long periods of time (hours or even days!) in beautiful places in nature for an activity that’s genuinely fun and, most importantly, offline and unplugged.

How do you create that kind of lifestyle for your family? As the father of two young adults who are avid backpackers, skiers, climbers, mountain bikers, paddlers, and intelligent, fine young people who make me proud (and most importantly, love spending time with and just talking to their parents!), I believe this goal remains not only entirely feasible today, but all that much more critical—especially for young kids.

And when it’s done right, you and your children will consider the time you spend together outdoors some of the best you share as a family.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


For this story, I’ve synthesized the biggest lessons I’ve gleaned from two decades of parenting outdoors as often as possible—and four decades building my life around outdoor recreation, including formerly as a field editor for Backpacker magazine for 10 years and even longer running this blog—into seven tips that will help set you on the path to wonderful times together as a family.

Click on any photo to read about that trip. Please share your questions or your own tips in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments. Click on any photo to read about that trip.

A toddler girl sitting in Skillern Hot Springs in Idaho's Smoky Mountains.
My daughter, Alex, on an early family backpacking trip to Skillern Hot Springs in Idaho’s Smoky Mountains.

No. 1: Don’t ‘Wait Until They’re Older’

For starters, abandon any misguided notion that you should “wait until the kids are older”—that’s a formula for winding up with a ‘tweener or teen who’s not interested in any of your wild-eyed notions about spending family time outdoors.

Young kids in camp while backpacking in Rocky Mountain National Park.
My kids while backpacking in Rocky Mountain National Park.

My initial motivation was admittedly somewhat selfish. One lesson I learned soon after becoming a father was this: If I wanted to keep getting outside—and especially on big trips—as much as I had before parenthood, I would have to involve my family in the activities I love doing. (That’s why that tip ranks no. 2 in my “10 Tips For Getting Outside More.”) But I also understood that making that effort when they were small would pay dividends as they grew older and more capable.

As I urge in my “Survival Guide for the Outdoors Lover Who’s a New Parent,” take your kids outside often, beginning when they’re too young to remember it—then their oldest memories will include being outdoors with their family. They will learn that getting outdoors together as a family is almost as routine as dinner.

That’s not to say it’s ever too late to start, of course. It’s never too late to spend quality time together.

Want to take your family backpacking? See these expert e-books:
The Best First Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon
The Best First Backpacking Trip in Yosemite
The Best Backpacking Trip in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains

A raft filled with children running Cliffside Rapid on Idaho's Middle Fork Salmon River.
My daughter, Alex, and others in “the kids raft” running Cliffside Rapid on Idaho’s Middle Fork Salmon River.

No. 2: When You Need It, Get Expert Help

Young boy and man in a slot canyon in Capitol Reef National Park.
My son, Nate, and our canyoneering guide Steve Howe, in a slot canyon in Capitol Reef National Park.

You want to get your kids outdoors more, exploring nature, and enjoying the myriad experiences available in local, state, and national parks; but you and your spouse lack the skills and knowledge to even know where to begin, never mind keep everyone safe. That’s not an obstacle—everyone begins as a novice. There are free programs, many of them family-oriented, available on public lands all over the country, and numerous paid guide services—an abundance of expertise available to help you acquire experience and skills.

As just one example, when planning a visit to a national park, search the park’s website for ranger-led activities, like hikes, that are usually free or low-cost and ideal for families and beginners; you’ll find them at virtually every national park and many other public lands. Those websites also list guide services and outfitters that are licensed to operate in that park.

For instance, you can find guided tours of all kinds in Yellowstone, guided hikes in Glacier National Parkriver trips through the Grand Canyon, and climbing guides operating in Grand Teton National Park and on Mount Rainier, and ranger-led tours and interpretive programs in almost any park, including Yosemite, and an adventurous, ranger-guided tour of the Fiery Furnace in Arches.

See all of the stories about family trips listed at my Family Adventures page at The Big Outside, including stories about guided whitewater rafting Idaho’s Middle Fork Salmon River and Utah’s Gates of Lodore section of the Green River in Dinosaur National Monument and the Green River’s Desolation and Gray canyons, climbing Mount Whitney, guided hiking and slot canyoneering in Capitol Reef National Park, sea kayaking in Alaska’s Glacier Bay, and kayak touring in the Everglades.

See also my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you plan your next family adventure..

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A young girl hiking in Sequoia National Park.
My daughter, Alex, on a family backpacking trip in Sequoia National Park.

No. 3: Talk and Listen to Them

From the longer perspective of a father of young adults, of all the advice that I offer in my popular “10 Tips For Raising Outdoors-Loving Kids,” I think the two best nuggets of hard-earned wisdom are simply “talk and listen” and “work your P.R.”

When planning a trip, make your children feel like they’re part of the decision-making process. Welcome their questions, address their concerns, and give them some say in what you’re doing. They will be more emotionally invested in making it a success.

Your children crave your attention; shower them with it, especially positive reinforcement. Compliment kids when they do well and encourage them when they’re challenged. Tell children they’re good hikers, skiers, climbers, paddlers, or cyclists, and they will take pride in that. You will help them self-identify as a kid who likes being outdoors.

I can help you plan the best backpacking, hiking, or family adventure of your life.
Click here now to learn more.

 

Young girl and father backpacking in the Grand Canyon.
My daughter, Alex, and me on Horseshoe Mesa in the Grand Canyon.
Teenage climber backpacking to high camp below California's Mount Whitney.
Nate backpacking to our high camp to climb California’s Mount Whitney.

No. 4: Take One-on-One, Parent-Child Trips

When my son and daughter were both very young, I established a tradition of taking an annual father-son and father-daughter backcountry trip, getaways that have become known as our “Boy Trip” and “Girl Trip.” (At a young age, my daughter gave me a waiver for my gender.)

By launching this idea when they were young and eager for entire days of one-on-one time with me, I created a tradition that my kids would look forward to as much as I did.

While most of our trips have consisted of backpacking and rock climbing in our home state of Idaho, I’ve also backpacked in the Grand Canyon with my daughter and climbed Mount Whitney with my son (click on the photos above and at left to read about either trip).

But it matters less what you do or where than simply that you do it, give your child your entire attention, make it fun, and demonstrate your commitment to it—so that, as your child gets older, the shared commitment remains strong.

I can report now, from the far end of the parenting journey with two kids who are young adults and avid backpackers, skiers, climbers, mountain bikers, and paddlers, that our son and daughter—as busy as their lives have become—still strive to spend as much time with us, especially outdoors, as they can, and we’re continually planning adventures together, whether for a few hours or a few weeks.

The Big Outside helps your family get outdoors more.
Join now for full access to ALL stories and get a free e-book!

No. 5: Blow Their Minds

Taking outdoors trips with little kids can, at times, create that defeated feeling of herding cats; but in some ways, it’s easier than when they get older, because you’re still in charge while they’re young. As they get older, they not only want more say in decisions about family outings and vacations, but they tend to come down with a chronic case of cynicism—everything is potentially “boring.”

Solution: Overwhelm their cynicism with trips so irrefutably fun that your offer becomes one they can’t refuse. One of my “10 Tips For Getting Your Teenager Outdoors With You” is: Do something really cool.

Young girl trekking in Parco Naturale Paneveggio Pale di San Martino, Dolomite Mouintains, Italy.
Alex trekking the Alta Via 2 in Italy’s Dolomite Mouintains.

As our kids grew older and more physically capable, comfortable with bigger challenges, and self-confident, we took them exploring slot canyons, including two non-technical, family-friendly slots in southern Utah’s Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument, and a technical slot canyon that required four rappels in Capitol Reef National Park.

We rafted and kayaked whitewater rivers like Oregon’s Grand Ronde, Utah’s Green through Dinosaur National Monument, and Idaho’s Middle Fork of the Salmon. We’ve backpacked and trekked hut to hut in amazing landscapes from the Tetons and Glacier National Park to the Tour du Mont Blanc and Italy’s Dolomite Mountains. I would regularly take them rock climbing and skiing.

No, it doesn’t have to be totally hard-core, involve international travel, or cost a small fortune. The point is simply to be willing to rise to the challenge of motivating your kids when they’ve grown a little tired of the same old. The fact that they want to step up to a higher level of outdoor adventure means you’ve been successful.

Make your kids want to go again. See “The 10 Best Family Outdoor Adventure Trips.”

Children in a campsite while floating the Green River in Canyonlands National Park.
The kids at “Kid Rock,” in a camp on the Green River in Canyonlands.

No. 6: Recruit Another Family

Family group of backpackers heading into Paria Canyon, in Utah and Arizona.
Our group ready to backpack Paria Canyon.

From the first river trip we ever took as a family—a beginner-friendly, five-day float down the Green River in Canyonlands National Park—to hiking in Yosemite, backpacking Paria Canyon and the Needles District of Canyonlands, and skiing to backcountry yurts, as well as other trips, we have frequently brought other kids, another family, or multiple families along for the adventure.

Not only do the kids get energized by more peers, but it’s more social and fun for everyone—and adds the benefit of spreading the work out among the adults (when children are too young to be much help). Bring another family regularly into your trips, and you create more voices motivating the movement toward always planning the next one.

Get the right backpack for you and your kid.
See “The 10 Best Backpacking Packs” and the best ultralight backpacks.

A father and teenage son climbing the Mountaineers Route on California's Mount Whitney.
My son, Nate, and me climbing the Mountaineers Route on California’s Mount Whitney.

No. 7: Pick a Shared Goal

When my son was 15, I proposed to him that he and I (for our annual Boy Trip) climb a mountaineering route up the highest peak in the contiguous United States, California’s 14,505-foot Mount Whitney, to raise money for an organization that introduces kids his age to the outdoors. He leapt at the suggestion.

Motivated by this goal, he joined me in spending the next several months training for it. After we successfully reached the summit, in our tent that night at our base camp at 12,000 feet, he told me it was “the best trip we’ve ever done, and it makes me excited to do bigger ones and climb more mountains like this.”

I told him I would love that.

Get my expert help planning your backpacking or hiking trip and 33% off a one-year subscription. Click here now to buy a premium subscription!

A family trekking through Spain's Picos de Europa National Park.
My family trekking through Spain’s Picos de Europa National Park.

Bonus Tip: Don’t Worry, Just Take It Slow

If your family is entirely new to hiking or any outdoors endeavors, it’s okay. You have time. Take baby steps, learn as you go, and follow your gut instincts in choosing what’s right for your family. Seek a balance between encouraging everyone to try something new and not pushing so hard that anyone gets discouraged.

The only important goal is to keep making the effort to get out there. The rest will work out.

See more tips about walking that fine line in my “10 Tips for Keeping Kids Happy and Safe Outdoors” and “5 Tips For Hiking With Young Kids From an Outdoors Dad,” and my story “5 Questions to Ask Before Trying That New Outdoor Adventure.”

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Video: How to Pack a Backpack https://thebigoutsideblog.com/video-how-to-load-a-backpack/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/video-how-to-load-a-backpack/#comments Thu, 12 Jun 2025 09:00:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=14082 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Wonder why I’m smiling in the above photo? Well, sure, two friends and I were hiking the incredibly scenic Besseggen Ridge in Norway’s Jotunheimen National Park; that had something to do with it. But the other big factor was that I was comfortable—and how well my pack carried had a lot to do with that. And how I loaded it greatly affected how well it carried on my back. In this four-minute video, I’ll show you how to properly load a backpack to make your backpacking trips much more enjoyable.

I have refined my method for loading my backpack over more than three decades of backpacking—including the 10 years I spent as Backpacker magazine’s lead gear reviewer and even longer running this blog. In the four-minute video below, I will demonstrate how to pack all of your stuff into your backpack in the most efficient way and to maximize your comfort on the trail.

If you have not been using good technique when loading your backpack, you may be surprised at what a difference it makes. But even if you have been following what you understand to be the recommended way to load a pack, you might learn some new tricks from this video.

There are two basic goals when loading a backpack:

1. Organize it so that the items you want to get to quickly while on the trail are readily accessible;

2. Balance and distribute the weight in the pack to maximize your comfort.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


Watch the video below to see me demonstrate how to properly load a backpack.

Don’t miss the comments section below, where I have a good exchange of questions and answers with some readers, and please type in your own questions or suggestions.

Find your next adventure in your Inbox. Sign up now for my FREE email newsletter.

See “The 10 Best Backpacking Packs,” and all reviews of backpacks and backpacking gear at The Big Outside, plus “5 Tips For Buying the Right Backpack,” which includes instructions on how to measure your torso and properly fit a backpack, and “The Best Backpacking Gear” of the year.

And find all gear reviews organized by categories and expert tips on buying gear at the Gear Reviews page at The Big Outside.

Let The Big Outside helps you find the best adventures.
Join now for full access to ALL stories and get a free e-book!

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Big Scenery, No Crowds: 12 Top Backpacking Trips For Solitude https://thebigoutsideblog.com/big-wilderness-no-crowds-top-5-backpacking-trips-for-scenery-and-solitude/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/big-wilderness-no-crowds-top-5-backpacking-trips-for-scenery-and-solitude/#comments Mon, 09 Jun 2025 09:00:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=19448 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

We all want our wilderness backpacking trips to have two sometimes conflicting qualities: mind-blowing scenery, but also few other people around. A high degree of solitude somehow makes the backcountry feel bigger and wilder and the views more breathtaking. However unrealistic the notion may be, we like to believe we have some stunning corner of nature to ourselves. But in the real world, if you head out into popular mountains in July or August or in canyon country in spring or fall, you’ll probably have company—maybe more than you prefer.

Not on these trips, though.

From lonely corners of the majestic High Sierra (including, believe it or not, Yosemite), the North Cascades region, and Utah’s High Uintas and Maze District of Canyonlands, to the Wind River Range, Idaho’s beloved Sawtooths, the Eagle Cap Wilderness and a pair of rugged and remote adventures in the Grand Canyon, here are 12 multi-day hikes where you’re guaranteed to enjoy a degree of solitude—at least on long stretches of the trip—that’s equal to the scenery. All of these trips meet several of my “12 Expert Tips For Finding Solitude When Backpacking.”


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


Teenage girls backpacking in Utah's High Uintas Wilderness.
My daughter, Alex, her friend, Adele, and my wife, Penny, backpacking in Utah’s High Uintas Wilderness.

They also happen to be some favorite trips among countless wilderness walks I’ve taken over more than three decades (and counting) of backpacking, including the 10 years I spent as a field editor for Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog.

Each trip described below has a link to a full story about it, with many photos and often a video. Reading those stories in full, including key trip-planning details and tips, as well as this entire story, is an exclusive benefit of a paid subscription to The Big Outside.

Please tell me what you think of these trips—or add your own suggestions—in the comments at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

And I can help you plan any of them or any trip you read about at this blog. See my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how.

Start planning your next adventure now! See “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips
and “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips.”

A hiker on Liberty Cap in the Glacier Peak Wilderness, Washington.
Jasmine Wilhelm taking an evening hike on Liberty Cap in the Glacier Peak Wilderness, Washington.

Glacier Peak Wilderness

The five-day, 44-mile Spider Gap-Buck Creek Pass loop in Washington’s Glacier Peak Wilderness has earned a reputation for spiciness—which keeps the crowds down. The reason is the off-trail route over 7,100-foot Spider Gap, which holds snow all summer and can be hazardous, depending on the firmness of the snow.

But for backpackers with the skills to manage that pass—which isn’t terribly steep or dangerous when done in soft-snow conditions, as my family did when our kids were 12 and 10—the rewards include five-star views of Glacier Peak and the sea of lower, jagged mountains surrounding it, some of the best backcountry campsites you’ll ever have (or perhaps hike past), and unforgettable wildflower displays and panoramas like you get from Liberty Cap, a short side hike from Buck Creek Pass (photo above).

See my story “Wild Heart of the Glacier Peak Wilderness: Backpacking the Spider Gap-Buck Creek Pass Loop,” and all stories about backpacking in Washington at The Big Outside.

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A backpacker hiking the West Fork Trail above the West Fork Rock Creek toward Sundance Pass in the Beartooth Mountains, Montana.
Mark Fenton backpacking the West Fork Trail above the West Fork Rock Creek toward Sundance Pass in the Beartooth Mountains, Montana.

Beartooth Wilderness

On a five-day, peak-of-summer, mid-August hike through Montana’s Beartooth Wilderness, two friends and I walked for miles and hours a day—most of the trip—without any other people in sight. At two of our four campsites, there was not another person within miles—including near a lake less than five miles from the trailhead where we started and finished the trip, in a cirque below the cliffs and slopes of a striking, nearly 12,000-foot peak.

And our route reminded me in many ways of backpacking in a Northern Rockies neighbor of the Beartooths, Glacier National Park: We hiked long stretches through alpine terrain with views of soaring cliffs, jagged peaks, and small glaciers at the heads of dramatic, glacially carved cirques. In contrast to Glacier, though, the Beartooths reach higher elevations. We hiked to one stunning pass at over 11,000 feet and crossed the treeless tundra of a plateau at over 10,000 feet—and, yea, saw no one at either spot.

See my story “Backpacking the High and Mighty Beartooth Mountains.”

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A backpacker hiking the Tonto Trail toward Topaz Canyon, along the Gems Route in the Grand Canyon.
Mark Fenton backpacking the Tonto Trail toward Topaz Canyon, along the Gems Route in the Grand Canyon.

The Gems Route, Grand Canyon

For three days of a six-day hike from the Grand Canyon’s South Bass Trailhead to the Hermit Trailhead, five friends and I saw no one. Backpacking much of the Gems Route—named for several tributary canyons, including Ruby, Turquoise, Sapphire, Agate, and Topaz—we had amazing camps every night entirely to ourselves, with a vivid Milky Way glowing overhead.

The route traverses the longest segment of the 95-mile-long Tonto Trail with no bailout path the South Rim: the 29 miles from Bass Canyon to Boucher Creek, described by the park’s website as the Tonto’s “most difficult and potentially dangerous” leg for the lack of perennial water. (We twice carried six to eight liters of water—up to about 17 pounds each.)

But every day was a walk through a majestic landscape constantly reshaped by shifting light, with views reaching from the river to both rims. And these tributary canyons of the Colorado might, by themselves, be national parks in most other states.

See my story “‘Let’s Talk Water:’ Backpacking the Grand Canyon’s Gems,” “10 Epic Grand Canyon Backpacking Trips You Must Do,” and all stories about backpacking in the Grand Canyon at The Big Outside.

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Rock Slide Lake, Sawtooth Mountains, Idaho.
Rock Slide Lake, Sawtooth Mountains, Idaho.

Southern Sawtooth Mountains

I’ve dayhiked, backpacked, and climbed numerous times in Idaho’s glorious Sawtooths, peaks that look to me like a love child of the High Sierra and the Tetons (if somewhat smaller); and with the exception of a few popular spots, I wouldn’t describe them as crowded. But for solitude and scenery that justifies my “love child” claim, I recommend diving deep into the range’s interior. 

On a 57-mile trip from the Queens River Trailhead, penetrating an area that’s a solid two days’ walk from the nearest roads, a friend and I saw some of the prettiest and loneliest mountain lakes of the dozens that grace the Sawtooths, and lonely valleys framed by endless rows of jagged peaks.

See my story “Going After Goals: Backpacking in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains,” “5 Reasons You Must Backpack Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains,” and all stories about backpacking in Idaho’s Sawtooths at The Big Outside.

Click here now for my e-book to the best backpacking trip in Idaho’s Sawtooths!

A backpacker hiking the Uinta Highline Trail over Red Knob Pass, High Uintas Wilderness, Utah.
My son, Nate, backpacking the Uinta Highline Trail over Red Knob Pass, High Uintas Wilderness, Utah.

High Uintas Wilderness

The first hint at the solitude we’d enjoy on a nearly 50-mile loop hike in northeastern Utah’s High Uintas (including an optional eight-mile dayhike of Kings Peak, highest in Utah) came at the trailhead, where there were a grand total of two cars. We didn’t see another person until the second evening in camp, on a pretty mountain lake we had to ourselves, when two hikers passed by and one remarked, “Well, there are other people out here!” Our third day passed without encountering another human and we had a campsite for two nights in an 11,000-foot basin ringed by 13,000-foot peaks with no one in sight.

And during an unusual window of good weather in early October 2024, my 24-year-old son and I backpacked nearly 60 miles, mostly on the Uinta Highline Trail, enjoying 12,000-foot alpine passes and vast lake basins, great camps with stunning sunsets, night skies with the Milky Way glowing brilliantly—and a degree of solitude found only when hiking deep into big wilderness.

See my stories “Tall and Lonely: Backpacking Utah’s High Uintas Wilderness,” “Backpacking—and Sandbagging—Utah’s Uinta Highline Trail,” and all stories about backpacking in Utah at The Big Outside.

Planning a backpacking trip? See “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be
and this menu of all stories with expert backpacking tips at The Big Outside.

A backpacker in the Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne River, Yosemite National Park.
Todd Arndt in the Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne River, Yosemite National Park.

Northern Yosemite

Yosemite exceeds expectations in many ways, including that its reputation for crowds simply doesn’t square with the reality of backpacking throughout most of the park. On an 87-mile trek through northern Yosemite (shorter variations are possible), a friend and I crossed three remote, 10,000-foot passes; wandered through rock gardens in canyons beneath 12,000-foot peaks; camped on a lake’s sandy beach that looked like it was transplanted from southern California; hiked up a canyon resembling Yosemite Valley but twice as long and without the roads, buildings, and crowds; and stood on a summit known for “the best 360 in Yosemite.”

And every day, we walked for hours without seeing another person. When you’re ready to explore as deeply into the Yosemite backcountry as a person can wander, head north of Tuolumne Meadows into the park’s biggest, loneliest wilderness.

See my story “Best of Yosemite: Backpacking Remote Northern Yosemite,” my e-book to that trip, “The Best Remote and Uncrowded Backpacking Trip in Yosemite,” plus “How to Get a Yosemite or High Sierra Wilderness Permit,” “Backpacking Yosemite: What You Need to Know,” and all stories about backpacking in Yosemite National Park at The Big Outside—including my story about another trip that offered a surprising amount of solitude, “Yosemite’s Best-Kept Secret Backpacking Trip.”

Plan your next great backpacking adventure in Yosemite
and other flagship parks using my expert e-books.

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The Best Guide to Backpacking the Zion Narrows https://thebigoutsideblog.com/photo-gallery-backpacking-zions-narrows/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/photo-gallery-backpacking-zions-narrows/#comments Sat, 07 Jun 2025 09:00:48 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=19528 By Michael Lanza

The sound of rushing water increased in volume and the canyon walls pressed in close and reached toward the sliver of sky overhead as we walked downstream in the calf-deep North Fork of the Virgin River in The Narrows of Zion National Park. Turning a bend in the canyon, we came upon one of the most incongruous sights in the desert: a waterfall pouring from cracks in the canyon’s sandstone wall. Known as Big Spring, this oasis of cascading water and a hanging garden clinging to a redrock cliff is just one of the many wonders awaiting backpackers in Zion’s Narrows.

One of the most uniquely magnificent and coveted hikes in the National Park System, the Zion Narrows squeeze down to about 20 feet across in places, with sandstone walls that rise as much as a thousand feet tall.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


Day one in the upper Narrows, Zion National Park.
Day one in the upper Narrows, Zion National Park. Click photo for my e-book “The Complete Guide to Backpacking the Narrows in Zion National Park.”

There are many great canyon hikes in the Southwest, but The Narrows is the archetypal great canyon hike—and certainly one of the very best backpacking trips in the Southwest and a top 10 trip in America.

I base that judgment on having done many of the most beautiful multi-day hikes in the country over more than three decades of carrying a backpack, including the 10 years I spent as a field editor for Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog.

I think the photo gallery below will convince you to take this trip.

The Narrows is generally backpacked as a two-day hike from top to bottom, descending 1,500 vertical feet over the course of 16 miles, from the starting trailhead at Chamberlain Ranch to the Temple of Sinawava Trailhead at the end of the road in Zion Canyon.

Early summer and fall are the prime seasons for hiking The Narrows, which is frequently unsafe because of high water levels in April and May and sometimes into June, and during July and August, when heavy rainstorms are common.

My expert e-book “The Complete Guide to Backpacking The Narrows in Zion National Park” will tell you everything you need to know to plan and execute this classic backpacking trip. It is the most thorough guide you will find to backpacking Zion’s Narrows.

Click here now to Join The Big Outside and get my backpacking Zion’s Narrows e-book free!

Not surprisingly, our campsite in The Narrows graces my list of 25 favorite backcountry campsites. I also suggest it as one of “The 5 Southwest Backpacking Trips You Should Do First.”

See my feature story “Luck of the Draw, Part 2: Backpacking Zion’s Narrows,” with many more photos and a video, plus basic trip-planning information (though not nearly as much trip-planning detail as provided in my Narrows e-book). Like most stories about trips at this blog, reading that story in full requires a paid subscription to The Big Outside.

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10 Tips For Spending Less on Hiking and Backpacking Gear https://thebigoutsideblog.com/5-tips-for-spending-less-on-backpacking-and-hiking-gear/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/5-tips-for-spending-less-on-backpacking-and-hiking-gear/#comments Tue, 03 Jun 2025 09:01:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=11506 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

My first tent cost about 75 bucks. It was a bit heavy and bulky for backpacking. I called it the Wind Sock because it snapped loudly in the slightest breeze, and its poles bowed disturbingly in moderate gusts. (I learned to choose protected campsites.) But at a time when I could not afford good gear and was developing a passion for hiking, backpacking, and climbing, it sheltered me for about 150 nights in the backcountry and in campgrounds. It ultimately cost me about 50 cents a night.

When I started dayhiking and backpacking, I needed gear and clothing that was cheap. And you usually get what you pay for. But I’ve learned the strategies for getting decent or even very good gear cheaply over four decades of backpacking and hiking—including the 10 years I spent as a field editor and lead gear reviewer for Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A backpacker on the John Muir Trail above Thousand Island Lake in the Ansel Adams Wilderness.
Todd Arndt backpacking the John Muir Trail above Thousand Island Lake in the Ansel Adams Wilderness. Click photo to read about thru-hiking the JMT.

If you’re much shorter on cash than on eagerness to get outdoors—or you just prefer paying less for your gear so you can afford more of it or better stuff—these tips will help you get out there without emptying your checking account. Like many stories at The Big Outside, this one is partially free for anyone to read, but reading all of the tips below is an exclusive benefit of a paid subscription to The Big Outside.

You can begin finding excellent bargains—and help support my work on this blog—by making gear purchases through the affiliate links in this story and any other stories and gear reviews at The Big Outside. Thanks for your support.

If you have comments or questions for me, or tips of your own to suggest, please share them in the comments section below this story. I try to respond to all comments.

A backpacker hiking west from Porcupine Pass on the Uinta Highline Trail, High Uintas Wilderness, Utah.
My son, Nate, backpacking west from Porcupine Pass on the Uinta Highline Trail, High Uintas Wilderness, Utah. Click photo to read all stories about backpacking in the High Uintas at The Big Outside.

No. 1 Shop Discount Online Sites

Anyone shopping for new gear or apparel would be wise to begin by visiting sites like backcountry.comcotopaxi.com, the REI outlet store, and campsaver.com. This is the best way to score higher-quality gear and apparel from top brands for bargain prices. These sites offer deep discounts on product that has perhaps been discontinued—replaced in a company’s line by something similar, newer, and improved, or simply in a color that sells better. This discounted stuff went on sale new at higher prices just months earlier—it’s current technology, not ancient crap.

If you’re looking for a specific product, you may not find it; and sizes available are sometimes limited. But if you’re on a more general quest for a rain jacket, a backpack, or something else, you may well find something of high quality at a price you can afford.

NOTE: In most blog posts and pages at The Big Outside, including the Gear Reviews page, I share links to some of the best gear bargains on the Web, where you can find deep discounts on good-quality gear.

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A backpacker on the Teton Crest Trail.
Todd Arndt backpacking the Teton Crest Trail. Click photo to see all stories about backpacking the Teton Crest Trail at The Big Outside.

No. 2 Wait For Sales

Consumers spend top dollar when they buy impetuously or wait until the last second, when they absolutely need something. Most of the time, product prices are set at full retail.

But several times during the year—usually spring, late summer, and the holidays, plus clearance sales in fall and late winter—websites and brick-and-mortar stores offer major sales with product as much as half off the usual price.

Wait for seasonal sales at sites like backcountry.com and rei.com. Follow these sites through the social media you use.

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A backpacker in the Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne River in Yosemite in Yosemite National Park.
Todd Arndt backpacking the Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne in Yosemite. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan a trip in Yosemite or elsewhere.

No. 3 Join Email Lists of Your Favorite Brands

Visit the websites of brands you like and you may see an offer of a discount code worth something on the order of 10 to 20 percent off full price simply for joining their email list. Go right now to ospreypacks.com, patagonia.com, blackdiamondequipment.com, outdoorresearch.com, featheredfriends.com, hyperlitemountaingear.com, msrgear.com, seatosummitusa.com, beyondclothing.com, mysteryranch.comhimali.com, and hellyhansen.com and join their email lists. These offers may pop up only at certain times of year, or maybe after you’ve clicked at least one internal link, or only once you move your cursor toward the URL bar.

Sign up for their email list. You get something that you wanted at a lower price, and you will be among the first to hear about new products and future sales from a brand you already like. What’s not to like?

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Morning Eagle Falls and backpackers on the Piegan Pass Trail in Glacier National Park.
Backpackers on the Piegan Pass Trail in Glacier National Park. Click photo to see “The 10 Best National Park Backpacking Trips.”

No. 4 Buy Used Gear

When my teenage son said he wanted to upgrade from the old whitewater kayak that he had received on semi-permanent loan from a friend of ours, I told him we could split the cost and he should start aggressively shopping around for a good used boat. He found a nearly new Jackson kayak for half its usual retail price on Craig’s List. He put in numerous days on rivers over a few years, grew out of that boat, and then sold it for nearly what he originally paid for it—and used that money to cover most of the cost of the newer (but still used) next boat he bought.

Cruise Facebook MarketplaceeBay and Craig’s List for used gear. Look into whether there’s a used-gear exchange near where you live. Some local outdoor-gear stores may hold used-gear sales or garage sales, where people can bring stuff they want to sell cheap.

Some REI stores host garage sales occasionally for members; go to rei.com/promotions/garage-sale. Local and regional hiking and outdoor clubs may do the same thing. Check the websites of some favorite brands for whether they have anything similar to Patagonia’s Worn Well program, where you can buy—and trade in—used Patagonia gear.

It can take time and you should jump on any good deal as soon as you see it, or someone else will beat you to it. But many people buy gear they think they’ll use, and end up selling it months later after hardly using it. Plus, you even get to inspect it before buying if the seller is local.

There are actually few better ways to get good gear cheap—if you’re willing to put time and effort into the search.

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A hiker near Skeleton Point, South Kaibab Trail, Grand Canyon.
David Ports on the Grand Canyon’s South Kaibab Trail during a rim-to-rim dayhike. Click photo to read about hiking rim-to-rim.

See all hiking gear reviews and backpacking gear reviews at The Big Outside. And don’t miss my popular reviews of “25 Essential Backpacking Gear Accessories” and “The Best Backpacking Gear” of the year or all stories with expert backpacking tips at The Big Outside.

NOTE: I tested gear for Backpacker Magazine for 20 years. At The Big Outside, I review only what I consider the best outdoor gear and apparel. See categorized menus of all of my reviews at my Gear Reviews page.

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The 10 Best Backpacking Trips in the Wind River Range https://thebigoutsideblog.com/the-10-best-backpacking-trips-in-the-wind-river-range/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/the-10-best-backpacking-trips-in-the-wind-river-range/#comments Mon, 02 Jun 2025 09:52:22 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=63443 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

It’s hard to frame the experience of walking for days through Wyoming’s Wind River Range in words. The usual superlatives seem inadequate for describing a constant parade of sharp-edged, granite peaks soaring to over 12,000 and 13,000 feet, all reflected in thousands of crystalline alpine lakes. But here’s a truth I’ve learned about the Winds from many trips personally and helping numerous people plan trips there: Backpackers who explore it always leave there feeling they have discovered a very special place—and they want to return, often again and again.

I feel that way after numerous backpacking and climbing trips in the Winds over nearly four decades, including 10 years I spent as the Northwest Editor of Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog. Having had the good fortune of backpacking all over the country, I unquestionably rank the Winds among “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips.”

In a very real sense, I’m always planning my next trip in the Winds.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


Backpackers hiking past a tarn off the Highline Trail (CDT) in Wyoming's Wind River Range.
Chip Roser and Penny Beach backpacking past a tarn off the Highline Trail (CDT) in Wyoming’s Wind River Range.

The options for five-star, multi-day hikes are almost endless in a range that stretches for 100 miles along the Continental Divide, has more than 1,300 named lakes (and at least twice that many lakes total), and spans more than two million acres—virtually identical in size to its much more famous neighbor to the north, Yellowstone National Park. Three spots where I’ve camped in the Winds grace my list of 25 all-time favorite backcountry campsites—and virtually any camp in these mountains would make any backpacker’s all-time list—and several days rank among my most scenic days of hiking ever.

Seeking solitude? With some effort and smart planning, you sure can find it. I have many times backpacked into parts of the Wind River Range, both on and off-trail, and reached areas where we’d encounter just a handful of other people per day—sometimes just a day’s walk from a popular trailhead.

I’ve helped many readers plan an unforgettable backpacking trip in the Wind River Range.
Want my help with yours? Find out more here.

 

A backpacker hiking the Shadow Lake Trail in the Wind River Range, Wyoming.
Chip Roser backpacking the Shadow Lake Trail in the Wind River Range, Wyoming. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan any trip you read about at this blog.

This story describes 10 backpacking trips all over the Wind River Range that I have personally taken or are slight variations of trips I’ve taken and shares many photos from these trips (which often tell the story better than words). These trips hit well-known and incomparable spots like the Cirque of the Towers, Titcomb Basin, and sections of the Continental Divide Trail in the Winds, as well as trails and passes you may have never heard of.

These trips range in length from just under 30 miles to nearly 100 miles—with most of them falling into that sweet range for many backpackers of around 30 to 45 miles—and from beginner friendly to serious adventures in remote areas. Many trails in the Winds lie between 10,000 and 11,000 feet and passes crossed by trails generally rise to nearly or well over 11,000 feet.

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Sunset at Lower Cook Lake on a solo backpacking trip in the Wyoming's Wind River Range in September.
Sunset at Lower Cook Lake on a solo backpacking trip in the Wyoming’s Wind River Range. Click photo to see this and many other photos from places I’ve written about at The Big Outside that are available to purchase as professional-quality enlargements suitable for framing.

Each trip described below has a link to a story about it or that area of the Winds. Reading those stories in full, including key trip-planning details and tips, as well as this entire story, requires a paid subscription to The Big Outside.

See my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you plan your trip in the Wind River Range or any trip you read about at The Big Outside.

Please tell me what you think of the trips described below, share your questions, or suggest your own favorite backpacking trip in the Winds in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

After the Wind River Range, hike the other nine of “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips.”

 

A backpacker just north of Jackass Pass in the Cirque of the Towers. in Wyoming's Wind River Range.
Chip Roser just north of Jackass Pass in the Cirque of the Towers. in Wyoming’s Wind River Range.

The Best Backpacking Trip in the Winds

It’s a tough call to choose one best backpacking trip in the Winds. But after numerous trips all over the range, I’m sliding my stack of chips onto this 41-mile route from Big Sandy Campground, where there’s hardly a moment where you’re not blown away by the scenery. It crosses four high passes on the Continental Divide and meanders past a steady parade of jaw-dropping mountains and lakes you’ll want to camp beside. The trip reaches its climax in the disorientingly vertiginous Cirque of the Towers.

Yes, you will likely encounter at least a few dozen other backpackers on the first and last days. But you’ll also find abundant solitude: A friend and I counted just six other backpackers on our second day. The route also offers opportunities to lengthen the hike, exploring a spectacular cirque and scrambling to the summit of a 12,000-foot peak. And unlike the Wind River High Route, it also presents a reasonable challenge and distance for most backpackers. (Note that camping is prohibited within a half-mile of Lonesome Lake.)

See “The Best Backpacking Trip in the Wind River Range? Yup” and all stories about backpacking in the Winds at The Big Outside.

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Backpackers watching sunset at a campsite in Titcomb Basin, Wind River Range, Wyoming.
Backpackers watching sunset at a camp in Titcomb Basin, Wind River Range.

Titcomb and Indian Basins

After hiking a very full day to reach a campsite in a grassy meadow between the two largest Titcomb Lakes, at about 10,500 feet in Titcomb Basin, two friends and I watched the alpenglow paint the 13,000-footers above us golden. On a separate trip to Indian Basin, several of us summitted a 12,000-foot peak and a pair of 13ers on the Continental Divide, Fremont and Jackson peaks.

This pair of lakes basins sit on the west and south sides of 13,745-foot Fremont Peak, Titcomb at around 10,500 feet and Indian at over 11,000 feet. Camping by lakes in either basin, you’ll gaze up at a towering row of peaks on the Divide. Either Titcomb or Indian can be reached on an out-and-back hike of about 28 miles round-trip (to around the middle of either basin) from the Pole Creek Trailhead at Elkhart Park, outside Pinedale. They lie just a few trail miles apart, meaning you could explore or even camp in both on a trip of two to four days.

See my story “Best of the Wind River Range: Backpacking to Titcomb Basin.”

I’ve helped many readers plan unforgettable backpacking and hiking trips.
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A backpacker at a small tarn in the upper valley of Middle Fork Lake on the Wind River High Route.
Justin Glass at a small tarn in the upper valley of Middle Fork Lake on the Wind River High Route.

The Wind River High Route

This high traverse of the entire range really deserves to be called the best backpacking trip in the Winds. But at 96 miles, two-thirds of it off-trail and the vast bulk of it very difficult and fraught with hazards like the threat of rockfall, crossing 10 named alpine passes ranging from nearly 11,000 to nearly 13,000 feet—only one of them on a trail—the high route simply lies beyond the skill set, stamina, and interest of 99 percent of backpackers.

But for those with the chops for a rugged, physically and mentally strenuous, navigationally challenging, high-intensity adventure, it’s also arguably, mile-for-mile, the most jaw-dropping trek through any mountain range in America. While the Cirque of the Towers and Titcomb Basin draw most backpacker attention in the Winds, the WRHR crosses numerous, virtually anonymous high basins just as spectacular as those two.

And needless to say, solitude comes with the territory on the high route. Just show up with your A game.

See my story “Adventure and Adversity on the Wind River High Route.”

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A backpacker above Macon Lake and Washakie Lake in the Wind River Range, Wyoming.
Chip Roser above Macon Lake and Washakie Lake in the Wind River Range, Wyoming.

Hailey Pass-Washakie Pass Circuit

Overlapping the 41-mile route that I dubbed “the best backpacking trip in the Winds” (above), this 35-mile lollipop loop from Big Sandy differs in that it bypasses the very steep, loose, unmaintained route over Texas Pass—and thus, foregoes crossing the Cirque of the Towers—sticking to maintained trails and crossing just two passes, both topping 11,000 feet, Hailey and Washakie.

It also visits numerous lakes, offering a campsite by a lovely lake potentially every night. The ascents to and descents beyond both Hailey and Washakie passes offer classic Wind River Range vistas of peaks stretching to far horizons. You can lengthen this hike with side trips to more cirques where soaring cliffs envelope lakes and even scramble one or more 12,000-foot peaks along the way. Plus, while the trails are busy within a half-day’s walk of Big Sandy, there’s plenty of solitude east of the Divide. If you want the best backpacking trip in the Winds that doesn’t require a steep, hard climb up loose scree, this is your adventure.

All of this route is described in my story “The Best Backpacking Trip in the Wind River Range? Yup.”

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A backpacker above the Cutthroat Lakes on the Doubletop Mountain Trail in Wyoming's Wind River Range.
Chip Roser above the Cutthroat Lakes on the Doubletop Mountain Trail in Wyoming’s Wind River Range.

Doubletop Mountain-Highline-New Fork Trails Loop

This 43-mile loop from the New Fork/Doubletop Mountain Trailhead at the New Fork Lakes also illustrates how finding solitude in the Winds does not have to come at the expense of the splendor these mountains are known for.

It links up the Doubletop Mountain and Highline/Continental Divide trails to traverse classic Wind River Range high, alpine plateau backcountry, passing many lakes and delivering sweeping views reaching to the Continental Divide. It crosses four passes—none of them presenting a very long or arduous ascent—and explores secluded lake basins that feel like hidden Shangri-las. It also entails less than a mile of moderately difficult scrambling through large boulders on a trail in a narrow canyon.

And if we had added up the total minutes that we were within sight of other people over five days of bluebird weather in the week before Labor Day—arguably the best week of the year to hike in the Winds—it was probably less than two hours.

See my story “Backpacking Through a Lonely Corner of the Wind River Range.”

Planning a backpacking trip? See “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips
and this menu of all stories with expert backpacking tips at The Big Outside.

 

See “5 Reasons You Must Backpack the Wind River Range,” “The Best Backpacking Trip in the Wind River Range? Yup,” “Backpacking Through a Lonely Corner of the Wind River Range,” “Best of the Wind River Range: Backpacking to Titcomb Basin,” “Adventure and Adversity on the Wind River High Route,” and “A Walk in the Winds: Dayhiking 27 Miles Across the Wind River Range,” and all stories about backpacking in the Winds at The Big Outside. Like most stories about trips at this blog, reading those in full requires a paid subscription to The Big Outside.

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Backpacking the Wind River Range—a Photo Gallery https://thebigoutsideblog.com/photo-gallery-backpacking-the-wind-river-range/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/photo-gallery-backpacking-the-wind-river-range/#comments Wed, 28 May 2025 09:00:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=45743 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

In late afternoon, near the end of a day of backpacking some 14 miles—mostly above 10,000 feet—two friends and I walked into Titcomb Basin, deep in Wyoming’s Wind River Range, mouths gaping open. Forming a horseshoe embracing this alpine valley at over 10,500 feet, mountains soared more than 3,000 feet above the windblown Titcomb Lakes, including the second-highest in the Winds, 13,745-foot Fremont Peak, on the Continental Divide.

But by that point on the first day of our 39-mile backpacking trip, my companions were fully smitten by the Winds—as I have been since my first trip there more than 30 years ago.

Our three-day, mid-September hike from Elkhart Park, on the west side of the Winds, took us on an up-and-down tour past several dozen lakes (we were tempted to camp at most of them) and over three 12,000-foot passes, one of which, Knapsack Col, we reached via an off-trail route that added a spicy flavor to our trip.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A backpacker overlooking the Cirque of the Towers in the Wind River Range.
Justin Glass overlooking the Cirque of the Towers in the Wind River Range.

After several jaw-dropping backpacking and climbing trips and one very long, east-west dayhike across the range, I’ve gotten to know the Winds well enough to rank these mountains among the top 10 best backpacking trips in America, a list that draws from my more than three decades of backpacking, including formerly as the Northwest Editor of Backpacker magazine for 10 years and even longer running this blog.

Every time I return to the Winds—as I did in each of the past four summers, including backpacking the 96-mile Wind River High Route in 2020 (photo above), this beautiful, five-day loop in 2022 (photo below), and a four-day hike I consider the best backpacking trip in the Winds in 2023—I tend to ask myself the same question again and again: “Why don’t I just come here all the time?”

See “The 10 Best Backpacking Trips in the Wind River Range.”

Backpackers hiking past the tarn overlooking Mount Oeneis and Sky Pilot Peak, on the Highline Trail in the Wind River Range.
Chip Roser and Penny Beach backpacking past a tarn below Mount Oeneis and Sky Pilot Peak, on the Highline Trail in the Wind River Range.

With sheer-walled mountains rising to over 12,000 and 13,000 feet, numerous passes over 11,000 and 12.000 feet, and a constellation of trout-filled lakes that offer some of the most scenic campsites you will find anywhere (not to mention some very fine trout fishing), I think you would fall in love with the Winds as quickly as I did.

If you are looking for a trip to take this summer with no permit reservation required, the Wind River Range has numerous trailheads to access various parts of it. And I can help you plan a trip in the Winds (as I have done for many readers of my blog). See my Custom Trip Planning page for details.

I’ve helped many readers plan an unforgettable backpacking or hiking trip.
Want my help with yours? Find out more here.

As many time as I’ve walked through the Wind River Range, there remains much I want to explore there. I’m already planning my next trip.

See my stories “The 10 Best Backpacking Trips in the Wind River Range,” “The Best Backpacking Trip in the Wind River Range? Yup,” “Backpacking Through a Lonely Corner of the Wind River Range,” “Best of the Wind River Range: Backpacking to Titcomb Basin,” “Adventure and Adversity on the Wind River High Route,“ “A Walk in the Winds: A One-Day, 27-Mile Traverse of the Wind River Range,” and all stories about the Wind River Range at The Big Outside.

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The Best Backpacking Gear for the John Muir Trail https://thebigoutsideblog.com/the-best-backpacking-gear-for-the-john-muir-trail/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/the-best-backpacking-gear-for-the-john-muir-trail/#comments Wed, 28 May 2025 09:00:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=14007 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

So you’re planning to thru-hike the John Muir Trail and making all of the necessary preparations, and now you’re wondering: What’s the best gear for a JMT hike? Having thru-hiked the JMT as well as taken numerous other backpacking trips all over the High Sierra—mostly between late August and late September, which I consider that the best time to walk the Sierra, to avoid snow and the voracious mosquitoes and blazing hot afternoons of mid-summer—I offer the following picks for the best ultralight and lightweight backpacking gear and apparel for a JMT thru-hike.

Indisputably one of the best backpacking trips in America—and among the very best I’ve taken over three decades of backpacking, including the 10 years I spent as Northwest Editor and lead gear reviewer for Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog—the JMT meanders for 211 miles through the magnificent High Sierra, from Yosemite Valley to the summit of the highest peak in the Lower 48, 14,505-foot Mount Whitney (where backpackers must then descend another 11 miles to finish the trip at Whitney Portal trailhead). See my story about thru-hiking the JMT in seven days.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A backpacker hiking the John Muir Trail above Helen Lake in Kings Canyon N.P., High Sierra.
Marco Garofalo backpacking the John Muir Trail above Helen Lake in Kings Canyon N.P. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan your JMT thru-hike.

With few opportunities to resupply along the trail—and given the generally dry weather in the Sierra in summer—you can easily and should hike the JMT with the lightest gear that works for you (or that you can afford). Maximum pack weight will depend on how many days you spend on the trail and your food weight, but it’s quite feasible to keep your base pack weight (everything but food and water) within 15 pounds or less—and certainly no more than 20 pounds—without compromising safety or comfort in camp.

See my stories “Thru-Hiking the John Muir Trail: What You Need to Know,” “Thru-Hiking the John Muir Trail: The Ultimate, 10-Day, Ultralight Plan,” and “A Practical Guide to Lightweight and Ultralight Backpacking,” my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you plan your JMT thru-hike and any trip you read about at The Big Outside, and my expert e-books to backpacking trips in Yosemite and other parks.

A backpacker on the John Muir Trail in the Ansel Adams Wilderness.
A backpacker on the John Muir Trail in the Ansel Adams Wilderness.

The following suggestions for major gear items would also be solid picks for almost any backpacker who wants to go lighter and hike more comfortably in many mid-latitude mountain ranges in summer—although items like your tent and footwear would depend on the typical weather and bugs (and time of year).

Most recommendations below have a link to my full review of each. Click on the name of any product to buy it; those are affiliate links, meaning you can support my work on this blog by purchasing through them, at no cost to you.

Please share your thoughts on these gear suggestions for the JMT, or your own suggested gear, in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

Planning to hike the John Muir Trail?
Click here for expert, detailed advice you won’t get elsewhere.

A backpacker on the John Muir Trail hiking toward Silver Pass in the John Muir Wilderness.
Mark Fenton backpacking the John Muir Trail toward Silver Pass in the John Muir Wilderness, High Sierra.

Backpack

For a backpack, I like a few models that weigh under three pounds: two top-loaders with traditional features like lots of external pockets, the Osprey men’s Exos 58 or 48 ($260, 2 lbs. 11 oz. for the Exos 58) and women’s Osprey Eja 58 or 48 (read my review) and the Deuter Aircontact Ultra 50+5 and Aircontact Ultra 45+5 SL ($250, 2 lbs. 11 oz. for the 50+5, read my review); and two mimimalist, utralight packs, the Hyperlite Mountain Gear 3400 Windrider ($349, 55L, 1 lb. 15 oz., read my review) and Gossamer Gear Mariposa 60 ($315, 60L/3,661 c.i., 1 lb. 14 oz., read my review).

See my picks for the best ultralight backpacks.

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Backpackers camped by Thousand Island Lake along the John Muir Trail in the Ansel Adams Wilderness, High Sierra.
Backpackers camping with a Hyperlite Mountain Gear Ultamid 2 ultralight tent by Thousand Island Lake along the John Muir Trail in the Ansel Adams Wilderness, High Sierra.

Tent

In late summer, outside the buggy season in the High Sierra, I prefer using a backpacking tarp shelter like the Hyperlite Mountain Gear Ultamid 2 ($699, 1 lb. 2 oz., read my review), Sea to Summit Escapist Tarp ($229-$249, 10.5-15.5 oz., two sizes), and Slingfin SplitWing Shelter Bundle ($355, 1 lb. 5 oz., read my review). I often sleep under the stars on a clear night, but a tarp, besides protecting you from rain and some wind, can trap a surprising amount of warmth underneath it on a calm night.

If you want a two-person tent, get one that weighs under three pounds, like the MSR Freelite 2 ($465, 2 lbs., read my review), the Nemo Hornet Osmo 2p ($430, 2 lbs. 1 oz., read my review), the Big Agnes Tiger Wall UL2 ($480, 2 lbs. 3 oz., read my review), the Slingfin 2Lite, which can pitch with trekking poles ($505, 2 lbs. 10 oz. or 2 lbs. 6 oz, read my review), or if you’ll accept higher weight for more space, the Big Agnes Copper Spur HV UL2 ($550, 2 lbs. 11 oz., read my review).

My top picks for a solo ultralight are two that pitch with trekking poles, the Hyperlite Mountain Gear Mid-1 ($599, 16.8 oz., read my review) and the Gossamer Gear The One ($255, 1 lb. 2 oz., read my review). For a solo ultralight tent that’s semi-freestanding, check out the Nemo Hornet Osmo 1p ($400, 1 lb. 13 oz., read my review).

See “The 10 Best Backpacking Tents,” all backpacking tent reviews at The Big Outside, plus “5 Tips For Buying a Backpacking Tent” and “How to Choose the Best Ultralight Backpacking Tent For You.”

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Feathered Friends Hummingbird UL 30 sleeping bag.
The ultralight and warm Feathered Friends Hummingbird UL 30 sleeping bag, with 950+-fill down.

Sleeping Bag

A backpacker hiking the John Muir Trail above Marie Lake in the John Muir Wilderness, High Sierra.
Marco Garofalo backpacking the John Muir Trail above Marie Lake in the John Muir Wilderness.

For backpacking the JMT in late summer, I carry a down sleeping bag rated around 30 degrees F, with a high down fill rating (800 or above), because it’s warmer, lighter, and more packable than a synthetic bag or down bag with lower fill quality (if also more expensive), and well suited to the dry Sierra summers, where there’s little risk of getting a bag wet.

People who get cold more easily may want a bag rated 20 to 25 degrees, although you can wear layers to supplement the bag’s warmth.

My favorites are the Feathered Friends men’s Hummingbird and women’s Egret UL (30-degree, $609, 1 lb. 6 oz., read my review), the Therm-a-Rest Hyperion (32-degree, $490, 1 lb. 1 oz., read my review), the Mountain Hardwear Phantom 30 ($480, 1 lb. 6 oz. , read my review); and the Marmot Hydrogen 30 ($399, 1 lb. 9.4 oz., read my review).

Looking for an affordable down bag? I recommend the men’s or women’s Mountain Hardwear Bishop Pass 30 ($245, 1 lb. 12 oz., read my review).

See “Pro Tips for Buying Sleeping Bags,” “10 Pro Tips For Staying Warm in a Sleeping Bag” and all sleeping bag reviews at The Big Outside.

Want to tackle the JMT?
See “Thru-Hiking the John Muir Trail: What You Need to Know.”

Mountain Hardwear Ghost Whisperer 2 Down Hoody
The Mountain Hardwear Ghost Whisperer 2 Down Hoody.

Insulation

When nighttime lows will generally remain above freezing, as is usually the case on the JMT at least into mid-September, take an ultralight puffy jacket like the Mountain Hardwear Ghost Whisperer  2 Down Hoody ($360, 8.8 oz., read my review), the Black Diamond Approach Down Hoody ($360, 10 oz., read my review), the Patagonia Micro Puff Hoody ($329, 9 oz., read my review), or the warmer Feathered Friends Eos Down Jacket ($389, 11 oz. , read my review) or Himali Accelerator Down Jacket ($330, 12.5 oz., read my review).

See “The 12 Best Down Jackets,” “How You Can Tell How Warm a Down Jacket Is” and all puffy jacket reviews at The Big Outside.

Plan your next great backpacking adventure in Yosemite and other flagship parks
using my expert e-books.

The Black Diamond Fineline Stretch Shell and Fineline Stretch Full-Zip Pants on New Zealand's Milford Track.
The Black Diamond Fineline Stretch Shell and Fineline Stretch Full-Zip Pants on New Zealand’s Milford Track.

Rain Shell

On the John Muir Trail—or anywhere in the High Sierra—in summer, where rain occurs only rarely and most often as a passing (although possibly quite intense) thunderstorm, you don’t need the kind of super-technical (and heavier) rain shell you might use in, say, in Alaska, the Pacific Northwest or the Northeast. In fact, if you generally head out in warm, dry weather—common in many Western mountain ranges in summer—you may only need a less-expensive and ideally lightweight shell, like the Black Diamond Fineline Rain Shell ($189, 10 oz./283.5g, read my review), an impressive value in part because it has an adjustable, full-coverage hood, a feature sometimes lacking in moderately priced rain jackets, and solid rain protection even for wet environments.

Another option for backpackers who rarely see rain is an ultralight, waterproof-breathable rain jacket, like the Rab Downpour Light Waterproof Jacket ($165, 7.7 oz., read my review) or the Outdoor Research Helium Rain Jacket ($170-$180, 6 oz., read my review).

See all reviews of rain jackets and outdoor apparel at The Big Outside, “The Best Ultralight Hiking and Running Jackets,” and my “5 Expert Tips For Buying a Rain Jacket for Hiking.”

See “10 Great John Muir Trail Section Hikes.”

Danner Trail 2650 Mesh hiking shoes.
Danner Trail 2650 Mesh hiking shoes.

Shoes and Boots

If all of your gear is light, on a well-constructed trail like the JMT that’s often dry in summer, get lightweight, highly breathable, non-waterproof boots or low-cut shoes like the PCT-inspired Danner Trail 2650 ($170, 1 lb. 7.5 oz., read my review), the La Sportiva TX3 ($159, 1 lb. 9 oz., read my review), or trail runners like the Hoka One One Speedgoat 6 ($155, 1 lb. 3 oz.), also available in a very light mid-cut, the Hoka One One Speedgoat 6 Mid GTX ($180, 1 lb. 9 oz., read my review).

If you prefer more supportive footwear that’s still relatively light, I recommend two shoes that are a super value and come in waterproof-breathable and non-waterproof, mid-cut and low-cut models: the Hoka One One Anacapa series shoes ($155-$185, 1 lb. 10.5 oz.-2 lbs., read my review), and the Oboz Katabatic series ($145-$190, 1 lb. 9 oz. to 2 lbs., read my review).

See all reviews of hiking shoes at The Big Outside.

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Black Diamond Distance Carbon FLZ poles.
Black Diamond Distance Carbon FLZ poles.

Trekking Poles

Trekking poles should be essential gear on any backpacking trip, but for the JMT—if you’re going lightweight or ultralight, as you should be—get very light poles that are ideally adjustable and very packable. Among the best are the folding and adjustable Black Diamond Distance Carbon FLZ ($220, 12 oz./pair, 105-125cm, read my review), the collapsible and adjustable Gossamer Gear LT5 ($195, 10 oz./pair, read my review), and the folding, adjustable MSR Dynalock Ascent Poles ($190, 1 lb. 1  oz./pair, read my review).

If you want to use a tent that pitches with trekking poles—eliminating the significant weight of tent poles from your pack—make sure your poles are sufficiently sturdy and telescope out to the needed length for pitching your tent; those poles are also usually collapsible (rather than folding or fixed).

See “The Best Trekking Poles” and my stories “How to Choose Trekking Poles” and “10 Best Expert Tips for Hiking With Trekking Poles.”

Get the gear that’s right for you. See my specific tips on buying a pack, tent, boots, and sleeping bag and all reviews of backpacking gear, ultralight backpacking gear, and hiking gear and all stories about backpacking the John Muir Trail at The Big Outside.

NOTE: I tested gear for Backpacker magazine for 20 years. At The Big Outside, I review only what I consider the best outdoor gear and apparel. See my Gear Reviews page at The Big Outside for categorized menus of all of my reviews and my expert buying tips.

Whether you’re a beginner or seasoned backpacker, you’ll learn new tricks for making all of your trips go better in my stories “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be,” “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” and “A Practical Guide to Lightweight and Ultralight Backpacking.” With a paid subscription to The Big Outside, you can read all of those three stories for free; if you don’t have a subscription, you can download the e-book versions of “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” the lightweight and ultralight backpacking guide, and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”

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5 Reasons You Must Backpack Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains https://thebigoutsideblog.com/5-reasons-you-must-backpack-idahos-sawtooth-mountains/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/5-reasons-you-must-backpack-idahos-sawtooth-mountains/#comments Tue, 20 May 2025 09:00:21 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=45354 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Chances are that, by now, you’ve heard of Idaho’s Sawtooths—having typed that name into a search box may be the reason you’ve landed on this story. Maybe you’ve been intrigued at what you’ve heard or images you’ve seen from Idaho’s best-known mountain range. Perhaps you’ve even been there and the experience has only amplified your curiosity to see more of this range.

As someone who’s had the good fortune of having backpacked all over the country and in many other countries over the past three-plus decades, including the 10 years I spent as a field editor for Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog, I rank the Sawtooths among the 10 best backpacking trips in America.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


Backpackers on Trail 154 to Cramer Divide in Idaho's Sawtooths.
Backpackers on Trail 154 to Cramer Divide in Idaho’s Sawtooths.

I’ve wandered around the Sawtooths at least a couple dozen times over more than two decades, including numerous backpacking trips, dayhikes, peak scrambles, rock climbing, and backcountry skiing. While there remain peaks on my list to climb, a few trails to hike, and many lakes to leap into (or just sit beside), the Sawtooths have become my backyard mountains. I feel at home there.

This story presents the five reasons I think every backpacker should take a multi-day hike through the Sawtooths—spotlighting the characteristics of a trip there that make this place unique. I believe this argument may persuade you to go (if, somehow, the photos don’t do it).

See my e-book “The Best Backpacking Trip in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains” to learn all you need to know to plan and pull off a five-day, 36-mile Sawtooths hike through the core of the Sawtooths, and my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you plan every detail of a multi-day hike there.

Please share your thoughts or experiences there in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

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Backpackers on Trail 95 above Twin Lakes in Idaho's Sawtooth Mountains.
My wife, Penny, and Mae Davis backpacking above Twin Lakes in Idaho’s Sawtooths. Click photo for my e-book “The Best Backpacking Trip in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains.”

1. It’s Not That Hard

Having backpacked all over the country and in many other countries, I recognize how friendly the Sawtooths are to relatively inexperienced backpackers, starting with generally well-maintained and well-marked trails that rarely get very steep, having been constructed for pack animals like horses and llamas.

Elevations remain moderate. Most passes crossed by trails rise just over 9,000 feet, a height that most people acclimate to quickly. And as with many interior West mountain ranges, summer brings stable weather and blessedly few mosquitoes after July.

See the best of the Sawtooths using my
expert e-book to the best backpacking trip in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains!

Dawn light on Baron Lake in Idaho's Sawtooth Mountains.
Dawn light on Baron Lake in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains.

2. These Peaks Will Kind of Blow You Away

For years after moving to Idaho in 1998, with each trip I took into a new corner of the Sawtooths, I’d discover a spot that I was convinced was prettier than anyplace I’d been previously in this range. That happened to me several times, until I’d covered a fair bit of the Sawtooths and settled on the general conclusion that these peaks and mountain lakes are as beautiful as almost any range I’ve been in—certainly in the American West.

The Sawtooths look like a little sibling of the High Sierra or Tetons for their serrated skylines and mountain lakes that compare in beauty (if not in numbers) with the Sierra and Wind River Range.

A total of 57 summits top 10,000 feet in the Sawtooth Mountains, and nearly 400 trout-filled alpine lakes, many sitting well over 8,000 feet, shimmer in high bowls sculpted by long-ago glaciers. The range lies protected within the 756,000-acre Sawtooth National Recreation Area, which encompasses the equally beautiful White Cloud Mountains across the Sawtooth/Salmon River Valley, and most of the range is designated wilderness.

In other words: There’s plenty of space to wander around.

Get full access to Sawtooths stories and ALL stories at The Big Outside,
plus get a FREE e-book. Join now!

Rock Slide Lake in Idaho's southern Sawtooth Mountains.
Rock Slide Lake in the remote interior of Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains. Click photo to read about this trip.

3. Yes, You Can Find Solitude

A backpacker hiking below El Capitan in Idaho's Sawtooth Mountains.
Jan Roser backpacking below El Capitan in the Sawtooth Mountains.

As happened in many—if not most—backcountry areas across the country, the pandemic summer of 2020 brought a big leap in the numbers of backpackers in the Sawtooths. Friends and readers of The Big Outside reported to me about seeing more people than expected or more than they’d seen on any previous trip there. To some extent, that has continued since.

Still, those reports and my personal experience point to a certain reality that’s long been true in many backcountry areas: Most backpacker use is heavily concentrated around weekends in August and at a few popular lakes within a day’s hike of popular trailheads. Hike midweek during the peak summer season or after Labor Day, or venture into lesser-known areas more than a day’s hike into the mountains, and you can often find a surprising degree of solitude.

Some readers who purchase my custom trip planning tell me they prefer to get away from the crowds—and are willing to compromise a bit on mountain splendor for solitude. But that’s not necessary in the Sawtooths, as one reader who I helped plan a trip there discovered. After it, he emailed me describing his shock at how few people he saw and posted this comment at my Custom Trip Planning page: “Just back from an amazing 5-day trip in the Sawtooth Mountains. Michael took the time to understand my priorities, goals, and comfort level and crafted a route that was clearly tailored uniquely to me. Most important, Michael’s itinerary was significantly different from—and better than—anything I would have come up with on my own.”

See my “12 Expert Tips for Finding Solitude When Backpacking.”

I’ve helped many readers plan an unforgettable backpacking trip in the Sawtooths.
Want my help with yours? Find out more here.

A backpacker above the Redfish Valley of Idaho's Sawtooth Mountains.
Kade Aldrich above the Redfish Valley in Idaho’s Sawtooths. Click photo for my e-book “The Best Backpacking Trip in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains.”

4. No Red Tape

Unlike in national parks and more popular national forest wildernesses (in the High Sierra and elsewhere), no permit reservation is required for backcountry camping in the Sawtooths. You show up, fill out a permit at a self-service trailhead kiosk, and hit the trail.

That’s very appealing for backpackers who don’t always plan their trips months in advance in order to apply for a permit reservation; or who may have done that but struck out getting a permit somewhere else; or who find themselves changing plans due to wildfires—a regular summer occurrence these days—or another reason.

And the Sawtooths represent a pretty darn good consolation prize if your first trip fell through.

After the Sawtooths, hike the other nine of “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips.”

A young girl hiker at Imogene Lake, Sawtooth Mountains, Idaho.
My daughter, Alex, at Imogene Lake in the Sawtooth Mountains. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan your next backpacking trip.

5. There’s a Lot to See

A network of almost 350 miles of trails presents myriad opportunities for exploring the Sawtooth Wilderness on backpacking trips ranging from easy to ambitious—from the relatively accessible trails we hiked on the two trips described in this story, to more remote footpaths deeper in the wilderness, such as the 57-mile hike a friend and I took that I wrote about in this story.

A hiker below Thompson Peak in Idaho's Sawtooth Mountains.
My wife, Penny, hiking below Thompson Peak, the highest in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains.

See all stories about backpacking in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains at The Big Outside, including these:

The Best of Idaho’s Sawtooths: Backpacking Redfish to Pettit
Jewels of the Sawtooths: Backpacking to Alice, Hell Roaring, and Imogene Lakes
The Best Hikes and Backpacking Trips in Idaho’s Sawtooths
Going After Goals: Backpacking Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains
Roof of Idaho’s Sawtooths: Hiking Thompson Peak

Whether you’re a beginner or seasoned backpacker, you’ll learn new tricks for making all of your trips go better in my stories “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be,” “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” and “A Practical Guide to Lightweight and Ultralight Backpacking.” With a paid subscription to The Big Outside, you can read all of those three stories for free; if you don’t have a subscription, you can download the e-book versions of “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” the lightweight and ultralight backpacking guide, and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”

The Big Outside helps you find the best adventures.
Join now for full access to ALL stories and get a free e-book!

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Trekking New Zealand’s World-Class Routeburn Track https://thebigoutsideblog.com/trekking-new-zealands-world-class-routeburn-track/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/trekking-new-zealands-world-class-routeburn-track/#comments Sat, 17 May 2025 12:59:58 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=67044 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

We follow the Routeburn Track’s winding path through the dense, vibrant greenery of ferns, mosses, and ubiquitous beech trees of the forest in Mount Aspiring National Park, in the southwest corner of New Zealand’s South Island. The track parallels the raging whitewater of the river known as the Route Burn, which crashes thunderously over a train wreck of boulders in its bed, foaming white almost without interruption on its steep course, only occasionally slowing and calming to reveal its emerald color in the rare flat spots in this vertiginous canyon.

Very light, almost ghost-like rain seems to barely materialize from the gray sky, sprinkling on us like someone would shake a little salt onto her dinner; in the mild air, the four of us hike quite comfortably in T-shirts, hardly getting wet. Throughout our walk to our first hut on the Routeburn Track, the light showers come and go but mostly stay, common meteorological conditions in a part of the world that averages about seven meters/275 inches of rain annually, or about seven times as much precipitation as Seattle or Boston.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


Lake Mackenzie, along the Routeburn Track in Fiordland National Park, New Zealand.
Lake Mackenzie, along the Routeburn Track in Fiordland National Park, New Zealand. Click photo for my expert e-book to the Routeburn Track.

Beams of sunshine bust through the clouds periodically, hitting us with abrupt, powerful warmth in the first week of December, early spring in New Zealand. But those beams vanish so quickly that you can question your memory of seeing sunshine just minutes ago. Here, the sun is an occasional visitor who prefers short stays.

My daughter, Alex, and her best friend since they were two years old, Adele Davis, both 21, leapfrog my wife, Penny, and me along the track. Shortly before the Routeburn Flats Hut, we reach one small stream crossing that’s perhaps calf-deep, with no bridge, where Alex, Adele, and I cross on a wet and slick, fallen tree, while Penny just steps on submerged rocks in the stream and keeps her feet dry. It’s perhaps 16° C/60° F and partly cloudy when we reach the hut around 3 p.m., having hiked the 7.5 kilometers/4.7 miles from our starting point at the Routeburn Shelter and car park in an easy couple of hours.

Get my expert tips on successfully booking Routeburn Track huts and planning your trek smartly
in my e-book “The Complete Guide to Trekking New Zealand’s Routeburn Track.”

Or click here now to get 20% off both of my expert e-books to
trekking New Zealand’s world-famous Milford Track and Routeburn Track.

Trekkers above a waterfall on the Routeburn Track in Mount Aspiring National Park, New Zealand.
Trekkers above a waterfall on the Routeburn Track in Mount Aspiring National Park, New Zealand.

We’re spending three days trekking the Routeburn Track, one of New Zealand’s most famous hut treks and Great Walks. Located in Mount Aspiring and Fiordland national parks, it’s a point-to-point traverse of 33.1 kilometers/20.7 miles that begins and ends in rainforest—what Kiwis accurately call “the bush”—and features about nine kilometers/almost six miles of alpine hiking high above the bush, including a crossing of the mountain pass called Harris Saddle (also known by its Maori name, Tarahaka Whakatipu) at 1,255 meters/4,117 feet.

After we claim beds in one of the bunkrooms, I step outside by myself and walk across the small meadow behind the hut to the edge of this flat, shallow, and gently flowing stretch of the Route Burn. Rainforest grows as thick as fur up the steep mountainsides crowding this valley, a mosaic of shades of green. The muscular, white column of a waterfall bursts from one forested mountainside and plunges downward, a height difficult to determine from a distance, before disappearing back into the bush.

The scene releases a flood of memories of my personal journey in New Zealand, going back about 20 years. This is my fourth visit to this country that I’ve developed a deep love for—its landscapes and its charming and warm people—and the first with my family. I’ve taken other hut treks here, dayhiked some of the classic tracks like the Tongariro on the North Island and Roy’s Peak on the South Island, and sea kayaked fjords and canoed a wild river here, enchanted by every adventure.

But this is the first time I’ve been able to book huts for the popular Routeburn Track and the even-more-popular, world-famous Milford Track (which we’ll walk just a couple of days after this trek—and both of which I successfully booked thanks to an easy but not obvious strategy I learned for navigating the New Zealand Department of Conservation Great Walks reservation system).

Out here now, it feels like my personal New Zealand journey has come full circle.

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Harris Saddle and Lake Mackenzie

Penny and I leave the hut at 7 a.m. on our second day, motivated to an early start by the forecast of heavier rain by afternoon; Alex and Adele will follow in an hour, sleeping in later knowing they’ll catch up. It’s mild and a bit humid again, with little air movement in the forest, as we start the long hike up to Harris Saddle. Climbing steadily, we hear bird songs we don’t recognize in an otherwise quiet rainforest of ferns growing prolifically in many sizes, mosses clinging to every boulder and tree trunk, leafy bushes and plants foreign to virtually anyone from outside New Zealand, and trees with a base circumference broader than the passenger compartment of a mid-size car.

About an hour from Routeburn Flats, we walk past the Routeburn Falls Hut—and just a few minutes beyond the hut, we stop at one of the natural wonders of this track: Routeburn Falls. Located basically at the “bush line,” the elevation where the forest ends and the treeless terrain of tussock grasses and other low vegetation begins, the river splits into multiple braids that leap over several waterfalls of varying widths and volumes. It’s not a single waterfall so much as an outdoor museum of waterfalls.

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A trekker hiking above Lake Harris toward Harris Saddle on the Routeburn Track in Mount Aspiring National Park, New Zealand.
My wife, Penny, hiking above Lake Harris toward Harris Saddle on the Routeburn Track in Mount Aspiring National Park, New Zealand.

Beyond Routeburn Falls, we continue climbing steadily as the Routeburn Track meanders with almost as many twists and meanders as the Route Burn Left Branch stream. We’re now on the track’s leg between Routeburn Falls Hut and Lake Mackenzie Hut that lies mostly above the bush line, fully exposed to weather and wind.

And not surprisingly in this climate and these mountains, what began a little while ago as a very light mist very slowly builds to showers as we climb toward Harris Saddle. We pull on our rain jackets and pants well before the pass and before the mist intensifies and are happy we did—because for the next few hours, except for the respite offered by the Harris Saddle shelter, we’ll hike in on-and-off showers (demonstrating why having the right gear is essential; see the critical gear I used on this trip at the bottom of this story).

Click here now to get more than 20% off on my expert e-books to three great world treks:
The Tour du Mont Blanc, New Zealand’s Milford Track, and Iceland’s Laugavegur and Fimmvörðuháls Trails!

 

A trekker hiking the Routeburn Track from Harris Saddle toward Lake Mackenzie in Fiordland National Park, New Zealand.
My wife, Penny, hiking the Routeburn Track from Harris Saddle toward Lake Mackenzie in Fiordland National Park, New Zealand. Click photo for my expert e-book to the Routeburn Track.

The track leads us below and then above one thick and raucous waterfall; across the valley, a tributary stream splits into multiple braids that pour over at least a dozen distinct drops. Wildflowers with giant white petals and a bright, golden pistil bloom beside the trail. The track ascends to the top of cliffs that we walk along, high above Lake Harris, as low clouds partly shroud the peaks encircling the lake.

Turning a corner, we cross the wide flat of the pass and, now in heavier showers, duck inside the Harris Saddle shelter, which is welcoming and, best of all, dry. We snack, drink, and linger for a while before pushing on. Outside the hut, the fog thickens to obliterate everything beyond about 30 meters/100 feet; we’re not tempted to hike the side path to the top of Conical Hill, at 1,515 meters/4,970 feet, expecting we wouldn’t see anything, anyway. But after maybe 30 minutes of walking through this pea soup, the overcast lifts to give us sweeping views of the Hollyford Face, the Darran Mountains, and the bush line below us.

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A trekker descending the Routeburn Track beyond Harris Saddle in Fiordland National Park, New Zealand.
My wife, Penny, descending the Routeburn Track beyond Harris Saddle in Fiordland National Park, New Zealand. Click photo to learn about my Custom Trip Planning.

Beyond the pass, the Routeburn makes a long, high traverse with expansive views of these richly green mountains—and arguably reaches the trail’s scenic apex at the top of switchbacks overlooking the bowl formed by the waterfall-spliced cliffs and thickly forested mountainsides embracing the blue-green waters of Lake Mackenzie. The Lake Mackenzie Hut, our destination, looks tiny at the lake’s far end.

The four of us step onto the hut’s roofed porch at around 1 p.m., when we had hoped to get there; and minutes after we’re all inside one of the bunkrooms, hanging our wet rain shells to dry, the showers intensify to heavy rain. Soon, the drumming on the windows and metal roof of the main hut grows to a volume that almost drowns out the cacophony of conversations bouncing around the hut’s large common room. The storm gradually morphs into the kind of tree branch-whipping, wind-driven tempest that carries rain on visible waves rolling over the land. The torrential rain and lashing wind continue through the afternoon and evening—a sight that makes a person happy to have a dry, warm shelter, even if it’s a large bunkroom shared by 32 people.

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Find the best gear, expert buying tips, and best-in-category reviews at my Gear Reviews page.

See all stories about trekking in New Zealand, all stories about adventures in New Zealand, and all stories about international adventures at The Big Outside.

The Gear I Used See my reviews of the outstanding backpack, rain jacket and pants, fleece hoodie, sleeping bag, trekking poles, and headlamp I used on this trip.

See all stories about New Zealand adventures, “How to Prevent Hypothermia While Hiking and Backpacking,” “5 Tips For Staying Warm and Dry While Hiking,” “7 Pro Tips For Keeping Your Backpacking Gear Dry,” and this menu of all stories offering expert backpacking tips at The Big Outside.

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5 Things to Know Before Buying Backpacking Gear https://thebigoutsideblog.com/5-things-to-know-before-buying-backpacking-gear/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/5-things-to-know-before-buying-backpacking-gear/#comments Wed, 14 May 2025 09:00:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=23564 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Are you in the market for a new backpack, boots, tent, sleeping bag or other backpacking gear or apparel? How do you find something that’s just right for you? What should you be looking for? How much should you spend? These are questions I’ve heard from many friends and readers over the years as they’ve waded through the myriad choices out there. This article lays out five simple but helpful tips to keep in mind when buying gear.

I’ve learned these steps over three decades of testing and reviewing gear—including the 10 years I spent as the lead gear reviewer for Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog—and helping people find gear they love. No matter what you’re shopping for—boots, pack, tent, sleeping bag, other backpacking gear, or some major piece of apparel like a rain shell or insulated jacket—you face a daunting array of choices, and everyone’s needs are different.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A backpacker hiking the John Muir Trail above Helen Lake in Kings Canyon N.P., High Sierra.
Marco Garofalo backpacking the John Muir Trail above Helen Lake in Kings Canyon N.P. Click photo to see all stories about the JMT at this blog.

But finding the gear that performs well and that you’ll be happy with really comes down to following a simple thought process described in the five easy steps below, which you can follow when buying almost any gear. Below them, you’ll find links to my stories offering specific tips on buying a new pack, boots, tent, sleeping bag, rain shell, and insulated jacket, plus reviews covering my top picks in several categories.

Please share your thoughts on my tips or your own, best gear-buying advice in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

Gear up smartly for your trips.
See the best-in-category reviews and expert buying tips at my Gear Reviews page.

A backpacker hiking the Dawson Pass Trail in Glacier National Park.
Pam Solon backpacking the Dawson Pass Trail in Glacier National Park. Click photo to read about backpacking in Glacier.

No. 1 Decide Exactly What It’s For

A friend once asked me to recommend boots he could buy for backpacking that would also work well for climbing glaciated peaks (in the Pacific Northwest); I told him that was a little like shopping for a dump truck that would also give him good mileage as a commuting vehicle. If you set out in search of a pack or boots for every hike you ever take, then you will probably wind up with just that—which may serve your needs in an overly general way, but not be quite right for anything.

Focus on how you intend to use that item most of the time and buy something that’s good for that purpose. When you actually need or can afford more specialized gear that you will only use occasionally, get it then.

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A backpacker hiking to Burro Pass above Matterhorn Canyon, Yosemite National Park.
Todd Arndt backpacking to Burro Pass above Matterhorn Canyon, Yosemite National Park. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.

No. 2 Decide Exactly What You Need

Do you need solid ankle support, or do you prefer really lightweight, nimble footwear? Are you a big guy who needs a roomy tent, or a lightweight or ultralight backpacker or parent backpacking with a young child with a top priority of minimizing gear weight? Do you want the lightest bag you can afford, or do you get cold easily and need a bag that’s a little fatter and warmer than the average person uses?

The reason for the almost infinite number of choices in gear is the infinite variability in the wants and needs of consumers. That can seem confusing but it’s ultimately good for you. Your first step in buying may simply be writing down your customized answers to numbers one and two in this list of tips and using that as a guide as you begin winnowing your short list.

Trips go better with the right gear.
See “The 10 Best Backpacking Packs” and “The 10 Best Backpacking Tents.”

A backpacker on the Teton Crest Trail.
Todd Arndt backpacking the Teton Crest Trail. Click photo to see all of my expert e-books to backpacking the Teton Crest Trail and in many other classic parks.

No. 3 Get the Fit Right

Especially with footwear, packs, and performance apparel, fit and personal satisfaction go together like chips and salsa. You can be happy with a sleeping bag or tent that are not quite what you wanted (but are what you could afford); but no matter how much you spend, you’ll never be happy with a pack or boots that don’t fit you well. A poorly fitting pack can make you miserable, and poorly fitting boots can end a trip.

With those gear items for which fit becomes critical—boots and a pack—narrow your list to perhaps three or more options, based on steps one and two (above). Then go try them on and you will find the model you like.

I can help you plan the best backpacking, hiking, or family adventure of your life.
Click here now to learn more.

Jan Roser backpacking to Alice Lake in Idaho's Sawtooth Mountains.
Jan Roser below El Capitan in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains.

No. 4 Don’t Wait Until the Last Minute

The best way to spend more than you want or need to spend—and be forced to settle for something that’s not quite what you wanted—is to wait until the last day or two before a trip and rush out to buy something.

You wouldn’t buy a car or a house that way, because you want to take the time to find something that feels just right for you.

Treat buying boots, a pack, tent, bag, or other major gear or apparel item the same way—those aren’t like batteries or stove fuel that you dash out to pick up at the last minute.

Plus, shopping around weeks or even months in advance gives you time to wait for sale prices—and that’s truly the best way to get the most value out of every dollar you spend.

Plan your next great backpacking adventure in Yosemite, Grand Teton, Glacier,
and other flagship parks using my expert e-books.

A backpacker on the Tonto Trail in the Grand Canyon.
Todd Arndt backpacking the Tonto Trail in the Grand Canyon. Click photo to see my e-books to classic hikes, including “The Best Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon.”

No. 5 Spend What You Can Afford

This last nugget of advice goes both ways: If you can only afford an entry-level pack or other piece of gear, look for the best-quality item that’s within your budget (and fits you) and just buy it. Some brands that sell directly to consumer offer high-quality gear at very competitive prices. (Tip: Pick a brand name known for high quality, because they usually bring similar attention to quality to their affordable gear as they do to their pricier gear.)

Maybe it won’t be as comfortable or last as long as the high-end gear you coveted, but it will enable you to get out there and have fun and may last until you can afford something better.

See my “5 Tips For Spending Less on Hiking and Backpacking Gear.”

By the same token, I always tell friends or readers seeking advice: If you can afford the best, why settle for something that will be less comfortable, or heavier, or not fit or perform as well as pricier pieces of gear or apparel that are within your budget? Measure the value in terms of your enjoyment and comfort as well as the cost per mile or day of use, because higher-quality gear, while pricier, often proves much more durable than cheaper stuff. That’s money well spent.

See my story “Why and When to Spend More on Hiking and Backpacking Gear.”

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Backpackers hiking the High Sierra Trail in Sequoia National Park.
Backpackers on the High Sierra Trail in Sequoia National Park. Click photo to read about this and other High Sierra backpacking trips.

See these articles at The Big Outside for my pro tips on buying gear (most of them require a subscription to my blog):

5 Expert Tips For Buying the Right Backpacking Pack
5 Expert Tips For Buying a Backpacking Tent
How to Choose the Best Ultralight Backpacking Tent for You
Expert Tips For Buying the Right Boots
Pro Tips for Buying a Backpacking Sleeping Bag
5 Expert Tips For Buying a Rain Jacket for Hiking
The 12 Best Down Jackets” (includes buying tips for down and synthetic jackets)

Planning your next big adventure? See “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips
and “Tent Flap With a View: 25 Favorite Backcountry Campsites.”

See also these reviews of top picks:

The 10 Best Backpacking Packs
The 10 Best Backpacking Tents
The Best Ultralight Backpacks
The Best Rain Jackets for Hiking and Backpacking

25 Essential Backpacking Gear Accessories
The Best Trekking Poles
The Best Headlamps
The 10 Best Hiking Daypacks

NOTE: I tested gear for Backpacker magazine for 20 years. At The Big Outside, I review only what I consider the best outdoor gear and apparel. See my Gear Reviews page at The Big Outside for categorized menus of all of my reviews and my expert buying tips.

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The Grand Canyon’s Best Backpacking Trips—A Photo Gallery https://thebigoutsideblog.com/photo-gallery-backpacking-in-the-grand-canyon/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/photo-gallery-backpacking-in-the-grand-canyon/#comments Mon, 12 May 2025 09:00:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=16188 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

I returned to the Grand Canyon yet again in April, my eighth backpacking trip there in the past 16 years. Any psychologist, behavioral scientist, or criminologist would describe that as an established pattern of behavior. I confess: I can’t get enough of that place. This time, six of us, family and friends, spent four days hiking about 36 miles from the Bright Angel Trailhead to the Hermit Trailhead off the South Rim, including a trail with a reputation as one of the canyon’s most difficult: the Boucher (photos in the gallery, below). Hiking more than nine miles and about 4,000 feet up it on our last day (and you would not want to hike down it), we found it matched its reputation as strenuous, with sections of scrambling over rockslide debris and a lot of steep uphill.

But it also matched its reputation for beauty, with incomparably Grand Canyon-scale vistas from the moment you step onto the trail, culminating with a long traverse on the rim of The Esplanade, overlooking a huge swath of the canyon (and seeing one of the best backcountry campsites I’ve hiked past). Plus, we traversed an excellent section of the Tonto Trail, including the stretch between Hermit Canyon and Boucher Canyon that sees much less human traffic (photo above).

And as usual in the canyon, superlatives seem to fall far short of describing this latest adventure there.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


Backpackers on the South Kaibab Trail in the Grand Canyon.
Backpackers on the South Kaibab Trail in the Grand Canyon. Click photo for my e-book “The Best First Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon.”

Looking for exceptional beauty? Well, the Grand Canyon always delivers on that. But as I’ve learned from numerous multi-day hikes and long dayhikes there over the years, while running this blog and previously as a field editor for Backpacker magazine for many years, including hiking rim-to-rim-to-rim a few times (see links to my stories about those trips below the photo gallery), each trip exhibits its own character. And this latest one proved just as unique for its distinctive side canyons, relatively abundant water, and outstanding camps on the Tonto Trail and at a beach on the Colorado River.

Watch for my upcoming story about backpacking from Bright Angel to Hermit via the Boucher Trail in the Grand Canyon.

Every trip in the canyon delivers mind-blowing scenery, wonderful campsites, and sometimes more challenge and strenuousness than many people anticipate. But I’ve also found that each trip differs more from others than you might guess.

Do your Grand Canyon hike right with these expert e-books:
The Best First Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon
The Best Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon
The Complete Guide to Hiking the Grand Canyon Rim to Rim.”

Backpackers and wildflowers along the Grand Canyon's Escalante Route.
Backpackers and wildflowers along the Grand Canyon’s Escalante Route. Click photo for my e-book “The Best Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon.”

The popular “corridor” trails—the South and North Kaibab and Bright Angel—while tough, are nonetheless the kindest to backpackers and dayhikers and constantly serve up vistas that inspire wonderment. The remote Thunder River-Deer Creek Loop off the North Rim goes from the bone-dry Esplanade to some of the best waterfalls and perennial streams in the entire Grand Canyon. The remote and adventurous Royal Arch Loop explores a tributary canyon with sometimes puzzling obstacles to scramble over and around and shockingly lush desert oases; it also requires one short rappel.

And the “best backpacking trip in the Grand Canyon,” from the South Kaibab Trailhead to the Tanner Trailhead, basically throws every ingredient of a consummate multi-day canyon hike into the pot: the never-grows-mundane majesty of two rim-to-river trails, the South Kaibab and Tanner; the unique perspective of the Tonto Trail; side canyons that are vast and magnificent by themselves; the blessed relief of campsites by perennial creeks and to-die-for camps by the Colorado River; spicy route-finding and scrambling on the Escalante Route; and the surprising variety, beauty, and remoteness of the Beamer Trail.

If you’re thinking about taking any of these Grand Canyon backpacking trips this fall—an ideal time to visit—you should be looking into a backcountry permit right now for a trip anytime in October, because available permits for popular trails and campsites get claimed very quickly.

See “How to Get a Permit to Backpack in the Grand Canyon.”

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A backpacker at a waterfall on the Deer Creek Trail in the Grand Canyon.
Jeff Wilhelm at a waterfall on the Deer Creek Trail in the Grand Canyon. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan any trip you read about at The Big Outside.

In the words of John Wesley Powell: “You cannot see the Grand Canyon in one view, as if it were a changeless spectacle from which a curtain might be lifted, but to see it, you have to toil from month to month through its labyrinths.”

You may not have months free to toil through the Grand Canyon’s labyrinths, but a few days or a week can give you a pretty good sampler of the place.

My gallery of photos below includes images from all of the backpacking trips and long dayhikes (routes normally done as backpacking trips) that I’ve taken in the Grand Canyon. See links below the gallery to my stories about those trips at The Big Outside.

I’ve helped many people figure out the best Grand Canyon backpacking trip for them.
Click here to learn about my Custom Trip Planning.

See my story “10 Epic Grand Canyon Backpacking Trips You Must Do,” or scroll down to Grand Canyon on my All National Park Trips page for a menu of all stories about the Grand Canyon at The Big Outside.

Whether you’re a beginner or seasoned backpacker, you’ll learn new tricks for making all of your trips go better in my stories “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be,” “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” and “A Practical Guide to Lightweight and Ultralight Backpacking.” With a paid subscription to The Big Outside, you can read all of those three stories for free; if you don’t have a subscription, you can download the e-book versions of “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” the lightweight and ultralight backpacking guide, and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”

Get full access to my Grand Canyon stories and ALL stories at The Big Outside,
plus get a FREE e-book. Join now!

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The Best Ultralight Backpacks of 2026 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/ask-me-whats-the-best-thru-hiking-backpack/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/ask-me-whats-the-best-thru-hiking-backpack/#comments Fri, 25 Apr 2025 09:05:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=10760 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Do you need an ultralight backpack? Many backpackers might answer “no” when, for many reasons, their answer should logically be “yes.” These packs aren’t just for thru-hikers. Typically weighing roughly from under two pounds/0.9 kilos to under three pounds/1.36 kilos (empty), ultralight packs have support for carrying 25 to as much as 35 pounds—making them ideal for more than just ultralight backpacking. For many or even most backpackers, that represents the range of pack weight they either carry on most trips—or could carry on most trips, with smart packing and reasonably light gear.

In other words, an ultralight pack just may be perfect for you. And this article covers the best ones out there today. My picks are based on extensive field testing of many packs of all types over more than 25 years of reviewing gear while backpacking and hiking all across the U.S., including the 10 years I spent as the lead gear reviewer for Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A backpacker on the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking the Teton Crest Trail. Click photo to see my e-books to backpacking trips in the Tetons, Yosemite, and other classic trips.

As I wrote in my “5 Expert Tips For Buying the Right Backpacking Pack,” when backpacking ultralight or lightweight—keeping my pack weight between 25 and 35 pounds/11.3 to 15.9 kilos, which describes the vast majority of my backpacking trips—I want a backpack with low weight and minimal features like pockets and zippers, because I just don’t need more than that. Still, I like the convenience of quick access for some items, like a lid pocket or, more often, side and hipbelt pockets for snacks, map, sunglasses, and sunblock, plus a large front pocket where I can stuff items like a jacket or wet rainfly.

The pack you choose will depend on personal preferences regarding design features, price, weight, and capacity.

Backpackers passing a small tarn just off the Highline Trail in the Wind River Range.
Backpackers passing a small tarn just off the Highline Trail in the Wind River Range. Click photo to see “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips.”

Ultralight Packs Defined

Some ultralight backpackers assert that only packs weighing under about two pounds/0.9 kilos empty are truly ultralight packs. (Some of the comments at the bottom of this story delve into that.) The semantic argument aside, packs that light have just a very basic frame or no frame. I have used packs with a minimal frame or none from various brands that all employ the same basic design, including on a seven-day thru-hike (averaging 31 miles per day) of the John Muir Trail, when we had our base pack weight (everything but food and water) under 15 pounds/6.8 kilos.

These packs are very minimalist, with a comfortable carrying capacity of about 20 to 25 pounds/9.1 to 11.3 kilos at best (for most people), and that assumes the user is diligent about loading the pack to achieve optimal distribution of weight. A frameless pack with a lightly padded hipbelt that also lacks structure does not support weight; the pack essentially hangs off your back, requiring your back and shoulders to bear the weight. Yes, a strong backpacker could carry 25 pounds/11.3 kilos or more in a pack like that; but for many people, that pack will grow increasingly uncomfortable as the miles pile up, day after day.

And if you start adding a pound here and there in gear, increasing your total pack weight to 25 pounds/11.3 kilos or higher, you should ask why you’re depriving yourself of the very noticeable improvement you will gain in comfort—with a weight penalty of only a half-pound to perhaps a full pound—by getting a pack with a frame. I’ve long believed that inadequate gear—whether it’s a pack loaded beyond its comfortable carrying capacity or a sleeping pad or air mattress that deprives you of adequate sleep—can easily create a net greater of energy from your theoretical “body battery” than you lose by carrying slightly heavier but more comfortable gear (pack, air mattress, etc.).

In other words, don’t get an ultralight backpack unless you plan to keep its full weight within your comfort zone (whatever that is). But bottom line: As I state above, many backpackers have light enough gear and combined food and water weight on most trips that they can comfortably use an ultralight pack. (I even sometimes slightly exceed an ultralight or lightweight backpack’s comfortable carrying weight on the first day of a longer trip, knowing I might be a little uncomfortable that first day, but by day two, it will feel fine and that helps keep my pack weight lower for the rest of the trip.)

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A backpacker hiking the Dawson Pass Trail in Glacier National Park.
Pam Solon backpacking the Dawson Pass Trail in Glacier National Park. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.

I prefer ultralight packs with some kind of frame structure, like those in this review, because they distribute the pack’s weight in a way that your body can carry more comfortably for hours on the trail, day after day. A frame helps shift most pack weight onto your hips, which is far more comfortable than having weight hang off your shoulders. I think many people would notice the difference, especially with more than 20 to 25 pounds/9.1 to 11.3 kilos in the pack.

Consider this: Even hiking daypacks designed for carrying more than 15 pounds/6.8 kilos have a frame.

Reviewed below are several backpacks that stand out in this category. Click on any affiliate links to purchase any pack below and support this blog at no cost to you; thank you for doing that. The capsule reviews below also link to full reviews of these packs at The Big Outside.

A backpacker at a waterfall on the Deer Creek Trail in the Grand Canyon.
Jeff Wilhelm at a waterfall on the Deer Creek Trail, along the Thunder River-Deer Creek loop in the Grand Canyon. Click photo to see “The 12 Best Backpacking Trips in the Southwest.”

Please share your comments or questions about them, or suggestions for your own favorite ultralight pack, in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

See also these reviews of other top gear picks:

The Best Backpacking Gear of the Year
The 10 Best Backpacking Packs
The 10 Best Backpacking Tents
The 12 Best Down Jackets
25 Essential Backpacking Gear Accessories
The 10 Best Hiking Daypacks

The Best Ultralight Backpacks

The Osprey Exos 58 ultralight backpack.
The Osprey Exos 58 on the John Muir Trail.

Osprey Exos 58 and Eja 58

The men’s Osprey Exos 58 ($280, 2 lbs. 14 oz.) or Exos 48 ($260, 2 lbs. 12 oz.), and the women’s Eja 58 and Eja 48, have long ranked among the best ultralight backpacks. I’ve used and liked the Exos 58 a lot since it first came out in 2008, including on a four-day, 86-mile backpacking trip in Yosemite National Park, a weeklong hut trek in Italy’s Dolomite Mountains, and on a six-day, 94-mile hike through Glacier National Park. Most recently, I took the 2022 update of the Exos 58—most significantly, the updated Exos and Eja now have adjustable fit in two sizes each—on a nine-day, nearly 130-mile hike through the High Sierra, mostly on the John Muir Trail with some on- and off-trail detours.

The top-loading Exos and Eja carry 30 to 35 pounds comfortably thanks to Osprey’s LightWire perimeter frame, which transfers much of the pack weight onto your hips, where you want it, and they have the capacity for weeklong trips and ultralight thru-hiking—I started our High Sierra trip with 18 pounds of food and carried it on days ranging up to 19.5 miles and over 8,600 vertical feet of elevation gain and loss and finished every day impressed with how good the pack felt.. The trampoline-style back panel permits cooling air circulation. At just under three pounds, they have smart features like good compression, a removable lid, six exterior pockets, and a handy trekking poles attachment on the left shoulder strap.

Read my complete review of the Osprey Exos 58 and Eja 58.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these affiliate links to purchase any men’s Osprey Exos backpack at osprey.combackcountry.com, or rei.com, or any women’s Osprey Eja backpack at osprey.combackcountry.com, or rei.com.

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The Hyperlite Mountain Gear Windrider 3400 ultralight backpack.
The Hyperlite Mountain Gear Windrider 3400 ultralight backpack in the Beartooth Mountains.

Hyperlite Mountain Gear 3400 Windrider

The Hyperlite Mountain Gear Windrider ($379, 1 lb. 15 oz.), which I’ve used on two different trips in Wyoming’s Wind River Range, including seven days on the Wind River High Route, and numerous other outings, weighs just two pounds, has removable aluminum stays and a harness system that I found comfortable carrying 30 to 35 pounds, and is made with waterproof (and practically bulletproof) Dyneema fabric.

Its minimalist design features three roomy, exterior mesh pockets and zippered hipbelt pockets, and a roll-top closure with top and side compression for stabilizing under-filled loads. For its weight, it offers unique carrying comfort—thanks in part to coming in four fixed sizes—and capacity for long trips.

Read my complete review of the Hyperlite Mountain Gear Windrider.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking either of these affiliate links to purchase a Hyperlite Mountain Gear Windrider backpack at hyperlitemountaingear.com or a Hyperlite Mountain Gear Southwest backpack at hyperlitemountaingear.com.

Gossamer Gear Mariposa 60 ultralight backpack.
The Gossamer Gear Mariposa 60 ultralight backpack in the Wind River Range.

Gossamer Gear Mariposa 60

After hauling the Gossamer Gear Mariposa 60 ($315, 1 lb. 14 oz. for medium pack with small belt) on late-summer, multi-day hikes in Wyoming’s Wind River Range and Washington’s Pasayten Wilderness, I’ve come to understand why I’ve seen this pack on the backs of so many ultralighters: It sports much of what you’d want in an ultralight backpack with hardly a flaw.

It has more capacity than many two-pound packs, including seven roomy external pockets, most of them made with more-durable fabric than mesh. A top-loader with a roll-top closure that clips with two straps to the pack’s front side, the Mariposa has abundant space for five to seven days—and conceivably more—of food and three-season, lightweight gear, including a full-size bear canister (inserted upright; it will not fit horizontally). It has a removable, U-shaped internal stay that gives the pack the support and comfort for carrying 25 to 30 pounds—and perhaps up to 35 pounds for some backpackers—and comes in three unisex pack and interchangeable hipbelt sizes.

Read my complete review of the Mariposa 60 (also shown in lead photo at top of story).

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking this affiliate link to purchase a Gossamer Gear Mariposa 60 at gossamergear.com.

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The Deuter Aircontact Ultra 50+5 ultralight backpack.
The Deuter Aircontact Ultra 50+5 ultralight backpack in the Grand Canyon.

Deuter Aircontact Ultra 50+5 and 45+5 SL

Updated for 2024, the Deuter Aircontact Ultra 50+5 and 45+5 SL packs ($260, 55L/3,356 c.i., 2 lbs. 15 oz./1.33kg for the Ultra 50+5) distinguish themselves for their comfortable fit—they’re among the lightest packs with torso adjustability—and smart design details. I found the Aircontact Ultra 50+5 comfortable with up to about 35 pounds inside on hikes of three days in southern Utah’s Owl and Fish canyons and six days on the Grand Canyon’s Gems Route. And while it wasn’t “comfortable” when I severely overloaded it at the outset of my Grand Canyon trip, it also didn’t feel awful.

That comfort as well as stability going up and down very steep, loose trails on both trips owes to its spring steel wire frame and a framesheet that offers slight flex while providing some structural support. Plus, the hipbelt fins and shoulder straps rotate to absorb your body’s movement, helping to steady the pack while hiking. And the spacer mesh in the back panel, lumbar pad, shoulder straps, and hipbelt deliver nice ventilation and cushioning. This top-loader has a spacious main compartment that fit my gear, food, and water for six days, plus six external pockets including a large stretch-mesh front pocket as well as side and hipbelt pockets, and light but reasonably tough, 175-denier polyamide fabric.

Read my complete review of the 2024 Deuter Aircontact Ultra 50+5 and 45+5 SL.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these affiliate links to purchase a Deuter Aircontact Ultra 50+5 backpack at backcountry.com, a Deuter Aircontact Ultra 45+5 SL backpack at rei.com, or any model in the Aircontact Ultra series at backcountry.com or rei.com.

The Gregory Focal 58 backpack in the Grand Canyon.
The Gregory Focal 58 backpack in the Grand Canyon.

Gregory Focal 58 and Facet 55

The Gregory men’s Focal 58 and women’s Facet 55 ($270, 2 lbs. 11 oz.), and the smaller Focal 48 and Facet 45 ($250), are designed for backpackers who are willing to accept a reasonable weight penalty for some organizational features of traditional backpacks and the support to carry up to 35 pounds. I found the Focal 58 comfortable carrying 35 pounds on strenuous days up to 12 miles with over 7,000 feet of cumulative elevation gain and loss—including seven very steep off-trail miles—backpacking for six days in the Grand Canyon.

These packs sport six external pockets, including two on the hipbelt and a large, stretch-mesh front pocket, and useful features like good compression and attachments for trekking poles or an ice axe. Gregory’s attention to comfort in its ultralight backpack is evident in the aluminum perimeter wire frame with a fiberglass cross-stay and an HDPE framesheet that lend the pack substantial rigidity, distributing most of the load across the hips. The tensioned, ventilated back panel allows air movement across your sweaty back. And they’re made with recycled fabrics and come in three non-adjustable sizes for men and women.

Read my complete review of the Gregory Focal 58 and Facet 55.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these affiliate links to purchase a men’s Gregory Focal 58 or Focal 48 at rei.combackcountry.com, or gregorypacks.com, or a women’s Gregory Facet 55 or Facet 45 at rei.combackcountry.com, or gregorypacks.com.

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The Mountainsmith Zerk 40 ultralight backpack.
The Mountainsmith Zerk 40 ultralight backpack.

Mountainsmith Zerk 40

The Mountainsmith Zerk 40 ($225, 1 lb. 13 oz.) suited my needs quite well trekking hut to hut for six days on Iceland’s Laugavegur and Fimmvörðuháls trails—and I think much about the Zerk will also appeal to many ultralighters and thru-hikers. It takes a common template of ultralight packs—roll-top, frameless, spacious external pockets—and juices it with smart details and add-ons, tougher materials, and a touch of modularity, starting with nine external pockets, all but one within easy reach wearing the pack.

The Zerk’s wide foam shoulder straps take a page from trail running-hydration vests, improving comfort; and each has four pockets with adequate space for a phone, flexible bottles, and energy snacks. It carries about 30 pounds, with a removable foam back pad, has tough, recycled fabric, and comes with a bungee and an accessory strap for attaching a tent or bear canister atop the full pack. Two drawbacks: At 40 liters (fully extended), it has less capacity than some sub-two-pound packs; you must be a committed ultralighter. And it comes in one unisex size.

Read my complete review of the Mountainsmith Zerk 40.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these affiliate links to purchase a Mountainsmith Zerk 40 backpack at backcountry.com or rei.com.

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REI Flash 45
The REI Flash 45 in Utah’s Dark Canyon Wilderness.

REI Flash 55

The men’s and women’s REI Flash 55 ($219,  2 lbs. 10 oz.) is not only a steal, but it sports nice design features for ultralight backpacking, including a rolltop closure, six external pockets, customizable compression straps, and removable features to trim several ounces.

A steel, internal perimeter frame plus a contoured hipbelt made it comfortable carrying up to 30 pounds on a 40-mile hike in Utah’s Dark Canyon Wilderness.

Read my complete review of the smaller version of the pack, the Flash 45 (which is no longer available).

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog by clicking this affiliate link to purchase a men’s or women’s REI Flash 55 at rei.com.

ULA Circuit

The ULA Circuit ($300) weighs in at 2 lbs. 4.6 oz., but it’s spacious at 68 liters, and its roll-top closure extends farther than many competitors, giving you more capacity when needed. With a carbon fiber and Delrin suspension, a dense foam frame and an aluminum stay, it will carry up to 35 pounds, and the hipbelt and shoulder straps come in multiple sizes for customizing the fit for men or women and customizable features like embroidering your trail name on it. ULA’s 400 Robic fabric is highly durable, and the pack has a huge external front pocket.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking this affiliate link to purchase a ULA Circuit at ula-equipment.com.

Planning your next big adventure? See “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips
and “Tent Flap With a View: 25 Favorite Backcountry Campsites.”

Granite Gear Perimeter 50 backpack
The Granite Gear Perimeter 50 backpack in Yosemite.

Two Almost Ultralight Packs

Depending on how much weight you intend to carry, there are two other, more-versatile backpacks that weigh just a few ounces more than some of these, yet carry more weight comfortably and have more features: the Granite Gear Perimeter 50 (read my review) and the Granite Gear Blaze 60 (read my review).

See all backpack reviews and my picks for the 10 best packs for backpacking, including models that range from around three-and-a-half pounds to five pounds. See also my “5 Tips For Buying the Right Backpack,” “Video: How to Load a Backpack,” all reviews of backpacking gear and ultralight backpacking gear, and my Gear Reviews page at The Big Outside for numerous stories with my picks for best gear and tips on buying gear.

And don’t miss my popular reviews of “25 Essential Backpacking Gear Accessories” and “The Best Backpacking Gear” of the year.

Whether you’re a beginner or seasoned backpacker, you’ll learn new tricks for making all of your trips go better in my “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” A Practical Guide to Lightweight and Ultralight Backpacking,” and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.” With a paid subscription to The Big Outside, you can read all of those three stories for free; if you don’t have a subscription, you can download the e-book versions of “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” the lightweight and ultralight backpacking guide, and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”

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How You Can Tell How Warm a Down Jacket Is https://thebigoutsideblog.com/ask-me-how-can-you-tell-how-warm-a-down-jacket-is/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/ask-me-how-can-you-tell-how-warm-a-down-jacket-is/#comments Thu, 24 Apr 2025 09:00:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=10710 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

While sleeping bags have temperature ratings, with down jackets and other insulated jackets, there exists no easy way to determine how warm any specific garment will be without wearing it outside. But despite the absence of a precise metric for gauging the warmth of down and synthetic puffy jackets, there are ways to assess a specific jacket’s relative warmth before you even see it, using simple metrics. This article will explain how to do that.

Even though down and synthetic-insulation jackets don’t have ratings like sleeping bags (which, by the way, were not uniform for many years, though there is now a uniform bag-rating system; learn more in my “Pro Tips For Buying Sleeping Bags“), you can judge warmth using numbers easily available online. Over more than 25 years of testing and reviewing dozens of insulated jackets (and other gear and apparel), including the 10 years I spent as the lead gear reviewer for Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog, I have found those indicators very reliable in helping me anticipate how warm at down jacket will be before I ever wear it.


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The Himali Accelerator Down Jacket.
The Himali Accelerator Down Jacket in the White Goat Wilderness, Canadian Rockies.

The down fill weight is one way to tell, though it’s not strictly a measure of a jacket’s warmth—it’s only a measure of the total weight (in ounces or grams) of the down in the jacket. How much insulation is in the garment is obviously an important factor in warmth, but not the only one, because down comes in a range of quality ratings. And of course, various types of synthetic insulation have different weights and warmth-per-weight ratios.

The down fill rating (not to be confused with the down fill weight) is basically a quality metric, not an indicator of warmth. The fill rating refers to the volume, in cubic inches, that one ounce of that down fills; in other words, an ounce of 800-fill down will occupy 800 cubic inches of volume. Down feathers and other insulation keep you warm through trapping heat from your body in tiny air pockets within the insulation, so higher fill ratings mean more trapped air, which translates to more warmth per ounce of down.

Get the right synthetic or down jacket to keep you warm.
See “The 12 Best Down Jackets.”

Mountain Hardwear Ghost Whisperer 2 Down Hoody.
The Mountain Hardwear Ghost Whisperer 2 Down Hoody in Hells Canyon.

Thus, if two jackets contain identical amounts of down feathers by weight, the jacket with the higher fill rating will very likely be warmer. But there are ultralight 800-fill jackets that obviously aren’t as warm as 700-fill jackets that have more ounces of down in them. You will usually pay more for higher fill ratings.

Consider the weather conditions in which you’ll use your puffy jacket. Standard down feathers lose their ability to trap heat once wet, making down insulation less practical in wet environments. Today, there are water-resistant (hydrophobic) treatments for down feathers that greatly improve the ability of those feathers to repel water, dry faster, and continue to trap heat when damp.

Nonetheless, a wet synthetic jacket is still probably going to keep you warmer than a wet puffy stuffed with hydrophobic down feathers.

In the real world, most of us rarely put ourselves in circumstances where our puffy jacket gets soaked; but consider that attribute of down and synthetic puffy jackets if you think there’s a possibility of facing that circumstance—or even a possibility of your puffy jacket getting damp and not having much opportunity to dry out. On a multi-day trip with rain or wet conditions every day, moisture from the air and your body can slowly accumulate in insulation, enough to cause down feathers to lose some loft and compromise the jacket’s warmth.

Similarly, while synthetic insulation traditionally was not as lightweight, compactible, and durable as down, some modern synthetic insulation materials, like one of the better ones, PrimaLoft, have a warmth-to-weight ratio that competes with down, and are more packable and lightweight.

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Feathered Friends Eos Down Jacket.
Testing the Feathered Friends Eos Down Jacket in Glacier National Park.

They’re also constructed in a way that’s likely to make them more durable than older synthetics, although down mostly retains the edge there: I owned one down sleeping bag (from Western Mountaineering) for about 25 years, using it on innumerable trips, and it did not noticeably lose any loft before I eventually sold it through a consignment shop (simply because I had replaced it with newer bags). I wouldn’t be surprised if someone’s still using that bag.

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The Black Diamond Approach Down Hoody.
Testing the Black Diamond Approach Down Hoody in the Grand Canyon.

Having a hood certainly keeps you warmer and is worth the nominal additional weight and cost. I consider a hood mandatory in cold temperatures (near and below freezing), but less important on milder trips, when I may pack a hoodless, ultralight puffy jacket to reduce pack weight and because I’m almost always bringing a light hat, anyway.

The way in which a jacket is sewn matters. In short, so-called “sewn through” construction stitches the outer, shell fabric to the inner, liner fabric, creating pockets of down, but also creating cold spots at seams where there’s effectively no insulation. This method reduces a jacket’s weight and often its cost, and is practical in ultralight jackets made for cool but not cold temps (think: summer in the mountains).

The more-expensive method of creating so-called box baffles eliminates those cold spots and makes a jacket look puffier, but adds weight and usually cost. Look for that type of construction in puffy jackets designed for temps near and below freezing.

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Rab Microlight Alpine Down Jacket.
Testing the Rab Microlight Alpine Down Jacket in the Wind River Range.

With down jackets, I generally simplify it to the following standard, which applies to my body (I don’t get cold easily) and will apply differently to other people, depending on how easily they get cold:

•    For summer trips, when I’m trying to backpack ultralight and I expect temps no lower than the upper 30s or higher, I bring a down/puffy jacket weighing 8 to 10 or 11 oz. (total weight), and I supplement with my other layers or get in my bag when necessary.

•    For trips when the temp could dip below freezing, I want a jacket that’s 12 to about 16 oz.

•    For colder trips/winter, my jacket weighs 16 to around 20 or 22 oz.

I find occasional exceptions to those general weight guidelines, when a jacket is remarkably warm for its weight, usually because of the use of lighter materials, such as shell fabric, and construction methods that reduce weight.

See my review of “The 10 Best Down Jackets” and all of my reviews of puffy jackets at The Big Outside. And don’t miss my picks for “The Best Backpacking Gear” of the year.

You might also be interested in my review of “The Best Gloves for Winter,” which includes three-season gloves, and my12 Pro Tips For Staying Warm Outdoors in Winter,” which offer products and tips that are also applicable to three-season backcountry trips.

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The Best Hikes in the White Mountains https://thebigoutsideblog.com/the-best-hikes-in-the-white-mountains/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/the-best-hikes-in-the-white-mountains/#comments Tue, 22 Apr 2025 09:00:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=58197 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

If you’re a hiker in the Northeast and especially in New England, you know about the White Mountains and either love them already or are eager to explore the tallest peaks north of the southern Appalachians and the most rugged mountains in the East. If you’re a hiker who lives outside the region, don’t be deceived or dissuaded by the fact that the highest in the Whites, Mount Washington, rises to a mere 6,288 feet. You risk missing out on hiking dozens of rocky summits with breathtaking panoramas, alpine ridges that stretch for miles above treeline, and some of the most challenging—and rewarding—trails found anywhere in the country.

The hikes described below draw upon my personal experience of hiking thousands of miles in the Whites over more than four decades, including several years as an author of a hiking guidebook to all of New England, the 10 years I spent as a field editor for Backpacker magazine, and even longer running this blog. I have hiked most of the peaks and trails described below countless times but I’m also drawing suggestions from my good friend and longtime hiking partner David Ports, a New Hampshire local and avid Whites hiker (who you can recognize on the trail as the dude who’s surprisingly fit for 60, moving fast, and always willing to stop and talk).


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A hiker on Bondcliff in the White Mountains, N.H.
Mark Fenton hiking Bondcliff in the Pemigewasset Wilderness, White Mountains, N.H.

While I do most of my dayhiking and backpacking in the West, I return nearly every year to hike in the Whites because I love these rocky little mountains that feel so much bigger than they are.

The Whites have over 1,200 miles of trails within a national forest spanning about 800,000 acres—bigger than Yosemite—including about 90 miles of the Appalachian Trail.

This story describes dayhikes and multi-day treks that can be backpacked or hiked hut to hut using the Appalachian Mountain Club’s extensive system of mountain huts throughout the Whites—which, besides enabling you to carry just the weight of a daypack, eat good meals, and sleep every night on a thick mattress indoors, offer an experience that’s much less common in the U.S. than in other countries like Switzerland, New Zealand, and Italy.

Sunset at the Appalachian Mountain Club's Lakes of the Clouds hut, below Mount Monroe in the Presidential Range, N.H.
Sunset at the Appalachian Mountain Club’s Lakes of the Clouds hut, below Mount Monroe in the Presidential Range, N.H.

Most of these hikes are rugged and strenuous undertakings; that’s the nature of the White Mountains. But many of them can be done by fit novice hikers and kids with the stamina for relatively hard days. And this article points out shorter, relatively easier trails and dayhike options.

The descriptions and photos below link to stories at The Big Outside that have more images and information about these trips (most of which require a paid subscription to read in full)—including detailed tips on planning each one yourself and when to apply for a backcountry permit, which is generally months in advance of a spring or fall trip.

See all stories about hiking in the White Mountains at The Big Outside and my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you plan any of these hikes or any trip you read about at The Big Outside.

A hiker on Wildcat Mountain high above Carter Notch in the White Mountains, N.H.
Marco Garofalo on Wildcat Mountain high above Carter Notch in the White Mountains, N.H.

The Whites have grown extremely popular and, admittedly, you won’t find solitude on many of the trails and summits in this article—at least, not on nice days during the peak hiking season, which runs from May to October, with alpine wildflowers usually blooming in June and foliage reaching peak color in late September and early October. However, you can find more solitude by taking these hikes on the fringes of the peak season or by going out on days of marginal but not terrible or dangerous weather; many hikers stay indoors with even a chance of showers in the forecast.

Please share your questions or suggestions for other hikes in the White Mountains in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

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A teenage boy dayhiking up Mount Washington in the Presidential Range, White Mountains, N.H.
My son, Nate, at age 14, hiking up Mount Washington on a 17-mile, four-summit dayhike in the Northern Presidential Range, White Mountains, N.H.

Mount Washington

At 6,288 feet, Mount Washington represents the crown of the White Mountains, lording over the tallest and longest alpine ridge in the Northeast, the Presidential Range. A hard hike from any direction, with more than 4,000 feet of uphill and downhill and frequently rocky, steep trails, Washington nonetheless attracts thousands of dayhikers every year. While the crowds on the most popular trails can diminish the experience, the hike is spectacular and presents a serious challenge rewarded with a 360-degree panorama from the crown of the White Mountains, stretching across the range and into western Maine’s mountains.

Tuckerman Ravine Trail
8.4 miles, 4,250 feet of uphill and downhill

The standard route and most direct way up Washington is the Tuckerman Ravine Trail, which begins behind the AMC visitor center in Pinkham Notch. It ascends the steep, rocky ravine headwall, with dramatic views across Pinkham Notch to the Carter Range, and then crosses the upper slopes, which help explain the mountain’s nickname: “The Rockpile.” While many hikers descend Tuckerman, an easier way, if slightly longer way down is via the Lion Head Trail, which diverges off the Tuckerman Ravine Trail just below the summit and then rejoins it just below Hermit Lake.

A hiker on the slabs of the Huntington Ravine Trail on Mount Washington, N.H.
David Ports hiking the slabs of the Huntington Ravine Trail on Mount Washington, N.H.

Huntington Ravine Trail and Lion Head Trail Loop
8.7 miles, 4,250 feet of uphill and downhill

Want to add a little spice to your hike? Go up the Huntington Ravine Trail and descend the Lion Head Trail on a stout loop from the AMC visitor center in Pinkham Notch. Considered the most difficult regular hiking trail in the White Mountains, the Huntington Ravine Trail ascends the ravine headwall, involving exposed scrambling up steep slabs with a fall potential, especially if they’re wet, snowy, or icy. But for hikers comfortable with exposed scrambling, few outings in the Whites compare with Huntington Ravine for scenery and adventure—and likely no crowds.

The loop is 8.7 miles if you go to the summit via the Nelson Crag Trail and descend via the Tuckerman Ravine and Lion Head trails, the latter crossing the edge of the Alpine Garden. Foregoing the summit to follow the Alpine Garden Trail—where wildflowers bloom profusely in June—trims at least a half-mile and 800 feet of up and down off the hike.

Ammonoosuc Ravine Trail-Jewell Trail Loop
9.6 miles, 3,800 feet of uphill and downhill

While this scenic loop from a parking lot on the Cog Railway Base Road on the west side of Washington presents a longer route up Washington that’s also quite steep at times, it involves less elevation gain and loss and offers entirely different views and an opportunity to visit the Lakes of the Clouds and the AMC hut located there. Although the parking lot often fills on weekends, it’s much less busy than Pinkham Notch.

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A hiker in the Northern Presidential Range in New Hampshire's White Mountains.
Mark Fenton hiking the Northern Presidential Range in New Hampshire’s White Mountains.

The Presidential Range Traverse

20 miles, 8,500 feet of uphill and downhill

The Presidential Range—which has seven summits higher than 5,000 feet—is one of the very best continuous alpine trail hikes in the country. That’s right: in the country. Walking north to south, the traverse involves about 20 miles and 8,500 feet of uphill and downhill if you hit all nine summits along the way, from Mount Madison to Mount Pierce, including the Northeast’s highest, 6,288-foot Mount Washington.

The traverse has many possible trail combinations and distances. Starting from the north, the most commonly hikes routes up are probably the Airline directly to the AMC’s Madison Spring Hut, where you can hike out-and-back to tag 5,366-foot Mount Madison in about 30 minutes; or the Valley Way to the Watson Path directly to Madison’s summit. But the Osgood Trail, reached via the Great Gulf Trail, ascends a long, open ridge with great views of the Great Gulf and Northern Presidentials, while the Howker Ridge Trail—the least-traveled of all of these—ascends a rugged ridge up Madison that feels more remote.

A hiker enjoying the view at dusk from Mount Monroe in the Presidential Range, N.H.
David Ports enjoying the view at dusk from Mount Monroe in the Presidential Range, N.H.

The traverse follows the Gulfside Trail, with detours to the summits of Mounts Adams, Jefferson, and another that’s not an official summit but has a great view of the Great Gulf, Mount Clay, as well as the top of Washington. From there, follow the Crawford Path south to Crawford Notch, with shorter side trips to tag Mounts Monroe, Eisenhower, and Pierce. Continuing south to 4,052-foot Mount Jackson, which has views of Crawford Notch, before descending to the notch adds more than two miles but is well worth it—as is continuing on the Appalachian Trail over ledges atop the Webster Cliffs overlooking the notch.

The AMC has three huts in the Presidentials situated a moderate day’s hike apart: Madison Spring, Lakes of the Clouds, and Mitzpah Spring, enabling traverse variations of two to four days. Backpacking the Presidentials is complicated by the prohibition against camping in the alpine zone and considerable distance separating the four possible spots to spend a night at the north end of the range—Valley Way tentsite, Crag Camp, Gray Knob cabin, and The Perch shelter—and the Nauman tentsite near Mitzpah Spring Hut.

A teenage boy hiking over Mount Madison in the Northern Presidential Range, N.H.
My son, Nate, hiking over Mount Madison in the Northern Presidential Range, N.H.

Dayhiking it—known as the Presidential Range Death March—has been something of a regional test piece for decades, probably since not long after Eugene Cook and George Sargent, of Randolph, N.H., became the first to hike it in a day on Sept. 27, 1882. And before puffing up your chest too much over accomplishing the Death March, consider that Cook and Sargent hiked 24 miles and 10,000 vertical feet over the Presidentials to Crawford Notch, had dinner, and walked the Jefferson Notch Road 18.5 miles back to Randolph that evening.

See my story “Step Onto Rock. Repeat 50,000 Times: A Presidential Range ‘Death March’” and “Extreme Hiking: America’s Best Hard Dayhikes.”

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A hiker on the Zeacliff Trail, White Mountains, N.H.
Mark Fenton at Zeacliff in the White Mountains, N.H.

Crawford Notch to Franconia Notch

23 miles, about 8,300 feet of uphill and downhill

Sandwiched between the better-known Presidentials to the north and Franconia Notch to the west lies a wonderful, 23-mile traverse from Crawford Notch to Franconia Notch, mostly on the Appalachian Trail. Hiked over two to three days, it begins on the Avalon and A-Z trails mostly through quiet forest to magnificent Zealand Notch, where you’ll pick up the AT on an increasingly scenic, high walk over five 4,000- to 5,000-footers—Zealand, South Twin, Garfield, Lafayette, and Lincoln—with possible side hikes to at least five others. (Tip: Definitely take the very short side trip to the overlook at Zeacliff, just a bit over a mile south of Zealand Falls Hut.)

A view from the Twinway/Appalachian Trail on Mount Guyot, White Mountains, N.H.
A view from the Twinway/Appalachian Trail on Mount Guyot, White Mountains, N.H.

Culminating with more than three miles of continuous alpine hiking over the burly Garfield Ridge and beloved Franconia Ridge, the traverse finishes with a descent of the steep and rugged Falling Waters Trail, passing some beautiful waterfalls. Shorten it by about a mile by descending the Greenleaf Trail and Old Bridle Path from Mount Lafayette—but do that only in bad weather or if someone’s really tired because you don’t want to miss that section of Franconia Ridge.

Lengthen this hike by 1.7 to 2.4 miles by continuing south on the AT over Franconia Ridge to Mounts Liberty and Flume; both have rocky summits with great views of the notch and east across the Whites and see far fewer hikers than Lafayette and Lincoln. The descent of the Flume Slide Trail is steeper and harder than the Falling Waters or Liberty Spring trails.

Backpackers have potential camps at Guyot, Garfield Ridge, and Liberty Spring campsites, while the route has three huts along or near it: Zealand Falls, Galehead, and Greenleaf, the last one a mile and 1,000 vertical feet below the summit of Mount Lafayette.

See my story “Still Crazy After All These Years: Hiking in the White Mountains.”

Planning your next big adventure? See “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips
and “The 25 Best National Park Dayhikes.”

A hiker on Bondcliff during a dayhike of the 32-mile Pemi Loop in the White Mountains, N.H.
Mark Fenton hiking up Bondcliff on a dayhike of the 32-mile Pemi Loop in the White Mountains, N.H.

The Pemi Loop

32 miles, 10,000 feet of uphill and downhill

The 32-mile Pemi Loop from the Lincoln Woods Trailhead on the Kancamagus Highway (NH 112) crosses eight official 4,000-foot summits, from the rocky, open ridges and summits of Bondcliff and Mount Bond in the heart of the Pemigewasset Wilderness to South Twin, Garfield, and the alpine traverse of Franconia Ridge. Overlapping significantly with the best stretch of the Crawford Notch to Franconia Notch (above), it offers the convenience of a loop and the greater sense of remoteness and higher degree of solitude you’ll find on parts of it.

Backpackers can make this a four-day hike using the backcountry campsites at Guyot, Garfield Ridge, and Liberty Spring, and the route has two huts along or near it: Galehead and Greenleaf, the latter a mile and 1,000 vertical feet below the summit of Mount Lafayette.

Don’t underestimate this hike’s beauty or difficulty: The Pemi Loop may rank as the hardest hike, mile for mile, on this list.

See my story “Being Stupid With Friends: A 32-Mile Dayhike in the White Mountains” and “Extreme Hiking: America’s Best Hard Dayhikes.”

Click here now to plan your next great backpacking adventure using my expert e-books.

Franconia Ridge

A hiker on the Appalachian Trail on Franconia Ridge, White Mountains, N.H.
Mark Fenton hiking the Appalachian Trail over Franconia Ridge, White Mountains, N.H.

8.5 miles, about 4,000 feet uphill and downhill

Certainly one of the most popular dayhikes in the White Mountains, this loop over Mounts Lincoln (5,089 feet) and Lafayette (5,260 feet) features not just the expansive views of Franconia Notch and the entire Whites from the nearly two miles of alpine ridge hiking along the narrow crest of Franconia Ridge, but also the waterfalls of the Falling Waters Trail and the open ledges of the Old Bridle Path, looking up at the long, formidable ridge. The AMC’s Greenleaf Hut sits in a grand position on the Greenleaf Trail, a mile below Lafayette’s summit.

Want a longer, more rugged adventure along all of Franconia Ridge that includes some much lonelier trails and summits? Hike the 10.7 miles from the Liberty Spring Trailhead to the Greenleaf Trailhead, with about 4,500 feet of uphill land downhill, over the four summits of Franconia Ridge—Flume, Liberty, Lincoln, and Lafayette. Go up the Flume Slide Trail—ascending the very steep path of an old rockslide, with some scrambling—and descend the Greenleaf Trail, which meanders through rough, fascinating terrain overlooking the notch where you may see no one else. Shuttle between the trailheads or walk or bike about four miles along the bike path between trailheads.

Get the right pack for you. See “The 10 Best Backpacking Packs
and the “The 10 Best Hiking Daypacks.”

Hikers on the Carter-Moriah Trail on Mount Hight in the Carter Range, White Mountains, N.H.
Marco Garofalo and Skye and Mark Fenton hiking the Carter-Moriah Trail on Mount Hight in the Carter Range, White Mountains, N.H.

Wildcat Mountain and the Carter-Moriah Range

19.5 miles, about 7,200 uphill and downhill

One of the great, long ridge walks of the Whites, the Carter-Moriah Range pushes seven summits over 4,000 feet, four of which are official 4,000-footers. Wildcat’s four summits include two more 4,000-footers. The trails traversing them wriggle over ridge crests through countless ascents and dips that amplify their grueling nature. The Carter-Moriah Trail and Wildcat Ridge Trail meet in the floor of Carter Notch, a strikingly narrow defile where walls of rock and forest soaring more than a thousand feet upward press in on both sides. From the notch, the hike up either 4,832-foot Carter Dome—ninth highest in the Whites—or 4,422-foot Wildcat Mountain entails crazy-steep trail with scrambling where you’ll learn the value of a tree trunk or branch for a handhold.

A hiker the Wildcat Ridge Trail up Wildcat Mountain, White Mountains, N.H.
Anna Garofalo and Mark Fenton hiking the Wildcat Ridge Trail up Wildcat Mountain, White Mountains, N.H.

The payoff for all that effort comes in the numerous rocky summits and ledges along the Wildcat Ridge Trail and Carter-Moriah Trail—some of which have, arguably, the best views of Mount Washington and the Presidential Range, towering immediately to the west. A traverse of both trails constitutes 19.5 hard miles with vertical gain and loss that may feel like more than it is.

While ambitious hikers knock it off in a day—a challenge not undertaken nearly as frequently as the Presidential Range Death March, even though it compares for difficulty—backpackers can make use of the Imp campsite between Mount Moriah and North Carter, and the Carter Notch Hut sits in an ideal position for hikes up Carter Dome or Wildcat Mountain, which can also be dayhiked via the Nineteen Mile Brook Trail; make a 9.6-mile lollipop loop over Carter Dome and 4,675-foot Mount Hight, which has perhaps the best panorama in the range.

See my story “The Hardest 20 Miles: A Dayhike Across New Hampshire’s Rugged Wildcat-Carter-Moriah Range.”

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A hiker on Mount Clay overlooking New Hampshire's Northern Presidential Range in the White Mountains.
Mark Fenton hiking over Mount Clay overlooking New Hampshire’s Northern Presidential Range in the White Mountains.

The Northern Presidentials

Although the three peaks of the Northern Presidential Range—5,366-foot Mount Madison, 5,799-foot Mount Adams, and 5,716-foot Mount Jefferson—exist in the shadow of Mount Washington, many avid Whites hikers prefer these rockpiles over “the” Rockpile because they have the most interesting, varied, and elaborate trail network in the entire range.

Adams, the second-highest peak in the Northeast, commands one of the best prospects of the entire range from its summit. When hiking north to south, Madison looms as the first summit and provides an imposing perspective on what lies ahead. Jefferson, the third-highest in the Northeast, is, like the others, a great hike on its own or in a link-up with other peaks.

Favorite trails can make up a lengthy list, but some to highly recommend include (from north to south) the Air Line, Chemin des Dames, Osgood, and Star Lake; the Howker Ridge Trail on a loop with the Pine Link; the Castle Trail and the shortest footpath to any peak in the Presidential Range, the Caps Ridge Trail (3.1 miles, 2,700 feet); and the Six Husbands, Chandler Brook, and Madison Gulf trails in the Great Gulf.

And on weekdays or in mixed weather or shoulder seasons, you can even find something that almost resembles solitude on these peaks—or certainly on some of the harder, more obscure trails up them.

See my story “Big Hearts, Big Day: A 17-Mile Hike With Teens in the Presidential Range.”

See my “10 Tips For Getting Your Teenager Outdoors With You
and my very popular “10 Tips For Raising Outdoors-Loving Kids.”

A hiker on South Twin Mountain in the White Mountains, N.H.
David Ports hiking South Twin Mountain in the White Mountains, N.H.

North and South Twin Mountain

11.2 miles, 3,500 feet uphill and downhill

More overlooked than they deserve, the eighth- and 12th-highest peaks in the Whites, 4,902-foot South Twin Mountain 4,761-foot North Twin Mountain, tower high above their closest neighbors, their bald, open summits affording unique views from very near three of the major defining natural features of the White Mountains: the Presidential Range, Pemigewasset Wilderness, and Franconia Ridge.

South Twin sees more hikers for its location along the AT and just a mile uphill from the AMC’s Galehead Hut. But the North Twin Trail will give you one of the less-traveled routes up a 4,000-footer. Hike both in an 11.2-mile near-loop—the same distance as hiking both out-and-back, but requiring a short shuttle or bike ride between trailheads—combining it with the Gale River Trail. Break up that loop with a night at the AMC’s Galehead Hut, perched high above the northern edge of the Pemi Wilderness (also along the Pemi Loop).

Mount Moosilauke

7.6 miles, 3,100 feet uphill and downhill.

Sprawling, bare-topped Moosilauke, rounding out the top 10highest mountains in the Whites at 4,802 feet, dominates the southwest corner of the range because no peak of comparable size lies near it. The Appalachian Trail crosses over the summit, which is reached on a relatively short, out-and-back hike of 7.6 miles on the Beaver Brook Trail (part of the AT). But Moosilauke has numerous, fun and scenic trails from all sides.


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A hiker approaching the Appalachian Mountain Club's Lakes of the Clouds hut in the Presidential Range, N.H.
David Ports hiking up to the Appalachian Mountain Club’s Lakes of the Clouds hut in the Presidential Range, N.H.

Guidebook and Maps Get the definitive White Mountain Guide from the Appalachian Mountain Club, amcstore.outdoors.org. See the complete list of 48 official 4,000-footers in New Hampshire s in the White Mountain Guide and at 4000footers.com/nh.

Shuttle Service The AMC operates two regular hiker shuttles daily from June 1 to mid-September and weekends and holidays through Oct. 22, serving several trailheads between US 2 at the north end of the Presidential Range to Franconia Notch, accommodating many point-to-point hikes described in this article. See outdoors.org/shuttle.

Huts The AMC’s eight popular mountain huts in Whites offer bunkrooms, dinner, and breakfast and lie a moderate day’s hike apart. Make reservations months in advance. See outdoors.org/destinations/new-hampshire.

Lodging and Food There are many lodging and restaurant options in the small towns situated around the White Mountains, including Gorham, Jackson, North Conway, Lincoln, Learn more about traveling in the White Mountains and New Hampshire at visitnh.gov. I’ve stayed at and recommend The Glen House on Route 16 north of Pinkham Notch and south of Gorham; theglenhouse.com.

Want my help planning the details of this trip, including an itinerary appropriate for your group? See my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you plan this or any trip you read about at this blog.

See all stories about hiking in the White Mountains at The Big Outside.

Whether you’re a beginner or seasoned backpacker, you’ll learn new tricks for making all of your trips go better in my “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” A Practical Guide to Lightweight and Ultralight Backpacking,” and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.” With a paid subscription to The Big Outside, you can read all of those three stories for free; if you don’t have a subscription, you can download the e-book versions of “12 Expert Tips for Planning a Backpacking Trip,” the lightweight and ultralight backpacking guide, and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”

See all stories with expert backpacking tips at The Big Outside, including these:

How to Prevent Hypothermia While Hiking and Backpacking
8 Pro Tips for Preventing Blisters When Hiking
5 Tips For Staying Warm and Dry While Hiking
7 Pro Tips For Keeping Your Backpacking Gear Dry

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5 Reasons You Must Backpack in the Grand Canyon https://thebigoutsideblog.com/5-reasons-you-must-backpack-in-the-grand-canyon/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/5-reasons-you-must-backpack-in-the-grand-canyon/#comments Sun, 20 Apr 2025 09:00:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=41503 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

The Grand Canyon’s appeal to backpackers may seem elusive. It’s hard, it’s dry, it’s often quite hot with little respite from the blazing sun. But while those aspects of hiking there are rarely out of mind, when I recall backpacking in the canyon, I conjure mental images of waterfalls, creeks, and intimate side canyons sheltering perennial streams that nurture lush oases in the desert. I think of wildflowers carpeting the ground for as far as the eye can see. I recall campsites on beaches by the Colorado River and on promontories overlooking a wide expanse of the canyon.

And, of course, I picture the endless vistas stretching for miles in every direction, where impossibly immense stone towers loom thousands of feet above an unfathomably vertiginous and complex landscape.

After several backpacking trips in the Big Ditch, I find that the more I go there, the more I need to go back again. This place really hooks you (see reason no. 5, below). And my perspective is shaped by more than three decades of backpacking all over the United States, including formerly as the Northwest Editor of Backpacker magazine for 10 years and even longer running this blog. I’ve taken many of the best multi-day hikes out there—some of them multiple times.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A backpacker on the Tonto Trail on the Grand Canyon's Royal Arch Loop.
David Ports backpacking the Tonto Trail on the Grand Canyon’s Royal Arch Loop. Click photo to read about that trip.

See my lists of “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips,” “The 10 Best National Park Backpacking Trips,” and “The 12 Best Backpacking Trips in the Southwest”—and yes, the Grand Canyon is on all three lists.

As I increasingly seek a certain type of experience in the wilderness—one with more solitude, challenge, and even a few surprises, above and beyond inspiring scenery—I feel drawn back to the canyon time and time again.

While it seems an act of hubris to attempt to fully communicate the many compelling reasons why every backpacker should explore the Grand Canyon, I will attempt to do so here. But there is no better proof than personal experience: Go there yourself and discover the canyon’s many elusive truths.

A hiker on the Grand Canyon's North Kaibab Trail.
David Ports hiking the Grand Canyon’s North Kaibab Trail. Click photo to read about hiking the canyon rim to rim.

Grand Canyon Backpacking Permits

Keep in mind that a Grand Canyon backpacking permit is one of the hardest to get in the National Park System. Grand Canyon National Park issues backcountry permits through a monthly, early-access lottery at recreation.gov/permits/4675337. Apply during a two-week period that ends on the first of the month four months in advance of the month you’d like to hike—for example, between Nov. 16 and Dec. 1 for a trip anytime in April and between May 16 and June 1 for October. See “How to Get a Permit to Backpack in the Grand Canyon” and “10 Tips for Getting a Hard-to-Get National Park Backcountry Permit.”

Check out my e-books “The Best First Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon” and “The Best Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon” and my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can put together a completely customized plan for you to backpack in the Grand Canyon.

Please share your thoughts on this article—or your favorite GC hikes—in the comments section below this story. I try to respond to all comments.

See “10 Epic Grand Canyon Backpacking Trips You Must Do.”

Backpackers on the South Kaibab Trail in the Grand Canyon.
Backpackers on the South Kaibab Trail in the Grand Canyon. Click photo for my e-book “The Best First Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon.”

5 Reasons to Backpack the Grand Canyon

1. It’s Truly Like No Other Place

If you’re a person who reserves judgment until you see hard data, the Grand Canyon’s metrics speak to a physical scale not replicated in many places in nature. A World Heritage Site, the national park covers over 1.2 million acres and the canyon stretches for 277 miles along the Colorado River. It carves 6,000 feet into the earth at its deepest point and measures 18 miles from rim to rim at its widest. An estimated 64 tributary rivers and creeks flow into the Colorado River the Grand Canyon.

Its rock preserves a record spanning three of the four eras of geological time, and its elevation range spans five of the seven life zones and three of North America’s four types of desert. The oldest exposed rock in the canyon dates back two billion years—roughly half the age of the planet.

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A backpacker on the Tonto Trail in the Grand Canyon.
Mark Fenton backpacking the Tonto Trail in the Grand Canyon. Click photo to read about”The Best Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon.”

From either rim, the canyon boggles the mind. Hike down into it and you will frequently see for dozens of miles in any direction—little vegetation below the forested rims means nearly constant, sweeping panoramas of one of the world’s greatest natural wonders—and yet glimpse only a fraction of the whole.

As you hike mile after mile, the canyon seems to morph, with distant towers of rock appearing tiny initially, swelling as you approach them until they become so massive that you gape, almost unable to tear your gaze away; and then they slowly shrink and disappear into the larger landscape as you put them farther behind you. The Grand Canyon refines your sense of the vastness and grandeur of our world.

Do your Grand Canyon hike right with these expert e-books:
The Best First Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon
The Best Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon
The Complete Guide to Hiking the Grand Canyon Rim to Rim.”

A backpacker at a waterfall on the Deer Creek Trail in the Grand Canyon.
Jeff Wilhelm at a waterfall on the Deer Creek Trail in the Grand Canyon. Click photo to read about that trip.

2. No Two Trips are the Same

Backpackers with the impression that any multi-day hike into the canyon will basically resemble any other—that the canyon offers a fairly uniform experience regardless of where you go—have much to learn about this place.

After several backpacking trips and long dayhikes in the canyon, I would say each of those hikes features the vast panoramas that one associates with a place of such verticality, depth, breadth, and dearth of vegetation that might otherwise obstruct views. And there are always long stretches of sunbaked hiking and stark, waterless desert, as well as strenuous sections of trail.

But the differences far outnumber the similarities. Narrow, almost hidden side canyons surprise and delight with their anomalous oases of greenery. Waterfalls plunge from great heights, pour wide streams into narrow gorges, or burst explosively from the face of a sheer cliff. Wildflowers erupt profusely from the desiccated ground, painting color onto a seer landscape. Sandy beaches offer idyllic campsites beside the Colorado River, where all night you listen to the steady drone of rapids and look up at an inky sky riddled with stars.

The more you hike in the Grand Canyon, the more you realize how little you have seen.

I can help you figure out the best Grand Canyon backpacking trip for your group.
Click here to learn about my Custom Trip Planning.

A backpacker hiking the Tonto Trail above Serpentine Canyon, along the Gems Route in the Grand Canyon.
Todd Arndt backpacking the Tonto Trail above Serpentine Canyon, along the Gems Route in the Grand Canyon. Click photo to read about that trip.

3. Unique Solitude

As in many major national parks, Grand Canyon’s management limits the number of backcountry permits issued to backpackers each day, and virtually all available permits get claimed during the peak seasons of March through May and September into November. Still, on all but the three popular corridor trails—the South and North Kaibab and Bright Angel—backpackers can often enjoy hours of hiking with few encounters with other people.

During peak seasons on long stretches of the Escalante Route and Beamer and Tanner trails—on what is arguably the best backpacking trip in the Grand Canyon—as well as the Thunder River-Deer Creek Loop, Royal Arch Loop, Clear Creek Trail and Utah Flats Route, and even on sections of the popular and relatively accessible Tonto Trail, I’ve seen very few other backpackers (and occasional boating parties on the Colorado River). For three full days backpacking the Tonto Trail between Bass Canyon and Boucher Creek, on what’s known as the Gems Route, five friends and I saw no other people.

Want deeper solitude? Follow tip no. 2 (“Go outside the peak season”) in my “12 Expert Tips for Finding Solitude When Backpacking” and hike into the canyon between December and February—when the number of backcountry permits issued plummets. Sure, days are short and cold in December but lengthening by February—and you will need traction devices on your boots, like the Kahtoola Microspikes or Kahtoola KTS Hiking Crampon for snow and ice on the upper sections of trails descending off the South Rim (North Rim trailheads are inaccessible in winter).

But average winter temperatures in the inner canyon are similar to late summer and early fall in many mountain ranges, with highs in the 50s and 60s and lows in the 40s and 30s Fahrenheit. And snow at the rims only enhances the canyon’s beauty and sense of adventure.

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A hiker on the Tonto Trail by Monument Creek in the Grand Canyon.
David Ports hiking the Tonto Trail by Monument Creek in the Grand Canyon.

4. It’s Not Easy… And Yes, That’s Good

Backpackers on the Grand Canyon's Royal Arch Loop.
Backpackers on the Grand Canyon’s Royal Arch Loop. Click photo to read about that trip.

Truth is that any hike down into the canyon is strenuous. South Rim trails descend nearly a vertical mile within anywhere from seven to 9.5 miles from the trailhead to the Colorado River, a steep trail gradient of well over 600 feet per mile. Consider the park’s friendliest and most well-constructed trail, the Bright Angel: It has a very moderate trail gradient of 463 feet per mile over its 9.5 miles from trailhead to river—but it drops 637 feet per mile over the first 4.8 miles from the trailhead to the first possible camping at Havasupai Gardens.

Beyond the park’s three popular corridor trails—the South and North Kaibab and Bright Angel—backpackers will find rim-to-river trails that may redefine their notions of rugged, rocky, and strenuous paths. Quad-melting ledge drops off a foot or two are common. The scarcity of water and need to haul extra water weight often amplifies the difficulty of hiking here.

But for backpackers seeking a uniquely rugged and raw adventure, particularly fit, experienced desert backpackers capable of handling harder footpaths like the Escalante Route, Thunder River-Deer Creek Loop, Royal Arch Loop, and certainly the Utah Flats Route, few places in the Lower 48—and arguably, none—offer the blend of excitement, challenge, surprises, and beauty of a long walk through the Grand Canyon.

Few destinations in the Southwest also offer the rare opportunity for extended backpacking trips—over 50 miles—especially on trails that are glorious every step of the way.

Hike the Grand Canyon rim to rim!
Get my expert e-book “The Complete Guide to Hiking the Grand Canyon Rim to Rim.”

Backpackers and wildflowers along the Grand Canyon's Escalante Route.
Backpackers and wildflowers along the Grand Canyon’s Escalante Route. Click photo for my e-book”The Best Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon.”

5. Because It Will Hook You

Its big vistas never grow mundane. Its rugged topography never relents in the challenges posed to backpackers on virtually any trail. Its surprises never cease.

The heat may wilt you some days. The wind may pummel your tent loudly some nights. The stretches between water sources may force you to haul an unwieldy load of liquid nourishment on your back. The route may present you with obstacles that give even the most experienced backpacker pause enough for the words to slip out: “Can this be the route?”

And at the end of some long day on the trail, or the end of your trip, the difficulties will pale compared to the memories of the many transformative moments. That’s when you will realize that the time to return to the Grand Canyon has already arrived.

I’ve helped many readers plan unforgettable backpacking and hiking trips.
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A backpacker on the Tonto Trail in the Grand Canyon.
Todd Arndt backpacking the Tonto Trail in the Grand Canyon. Click photo to get expert custom trip planning for your next adventure.

In myriad ways, small and large, subtle and conspicuous, the Grand Canyon burrows into your heart and takes up permanent residence there.

Grand Canyon Backpacking Season

Lastly, the only time of year when it’s all but impossible to backpack in the GC is summer, because of dangerously high heat. Think about that: The only time you can’t go there is the very season you want to be in the mountains, anyway. Thus, for nine months of the year when you can’t go to the mountains, you can backpack in the Grand Canyon.

That seems like a productive way to spend your off-season time.

See my story See “10 Epic Grand Canyon Backpacking Trips You Must Do” and scroll down to Arizona on my All Trips List for a menu of all of my stories about the Grand Canyon at The Big Outside.

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How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be https://thebigoutsideblog.com/how-to-know-how-hard-a-hike-will-be/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/how-to-know-how-hard-a-hike-will-be/#comments Sun, 13 Apr 2025 09:00:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=38595 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

“How hard will that hike be?” That’s a question that all dayhikers and backpackers, from beginners to experts, think about all the time—and it’s not always easy to answer. But there are ways of evaluating the difficulty of any hike, using readily available information, that can greatly help you understand what to expect before you even leave home. Here’s how.

No matter how relatively easy or arduous the hike you’re considering, or where you fall on the spectrum of hiking experience or personal fitness level, this article will tell you exactly how to answer that question—and which questions to ask and what information to seek to reach that answer. This story shares what I’ve learned over four decades of backpacking and dayhiking, including the 10 years I spent as a field editor for Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog, and this knowledge can help ensure that you and your companions or your family don’t get in over your heads.

Whether you’re new to dayhiking or backpacking, a parent planning a hike with young kids, or a fit and experienced dayhiker or backpacker contemplating one of the toughest hikes you’ve ever attempted, it’s important to have a good sense of what you’ll face on a new and unfamiliar hike and whether it’s within your abilities.


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A backpacker hiking the Dawson Pass Trail in Glacier National Park.
Pam Solon backpacking the Dawson Pass Trail in Glacier National Park. Click photo to read about backpacking in Glacier.

Exceeding your limits or those of someone with you can invite unwanted consequences—and the person with the least stamina, abilities, or experience often dictates any party’s pace, limits, and outcomes. Those consequences may range from an unpleasant experience that dissuades someone from wanting to go again, to failing to reach your destination or make it back to your vehicle, potentially creating a more serious situation.

Making smart decisions comes down to understanding several objective and subjective factors—and recognizing when you may be falling victim to misjudgment because of inexperience or simple overconfidence.

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Backpackers hiking to Island Lake in Wyoming's Wind River Range.
Backpackers hiking to Island Lake in Wyoming’s Wind River Range.

As background about my experience—or perhaps just for entertainment value—see these stories about some of the hardest hikes I’ve ever done, including dayhiking the Grand Canyon 42 miles rim to rim to rim and the 32-mile Pemi Loop in the White Mountains; attempting a one-day, 50-mile traverse of Zion National Park, and a one-day, 30-mile traverse of Maine’s Mahoosuc Range; thru-hiking the John Muir Trail in seven days; and trekking New Zealand’s brutally hard Dusky Track.

The tips below cover “hard” and “soft” measures to understand in evaluating the difficulty of any hike and these tips also delve into the effects of higher elevations, estimating how long a hike will take—and most importantly, decision-making. And like many stories at The Big Outside, part of this story is free for anyone to read, but reading all of my tips in this story requires a paid subscription.

Please share your thoughts on this article, questions, or tips in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments. And click on any photo to learn more about that trip.

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Backpackers hiking over Clouds Rest in Yosemite National Park.
Todd Arndt and Jeff Wilhelm hiking over Clouds Rest in Yosemite. Click photo for my e-book “The Best Backpacking Trip in Yosemite.”

The ‘Hard’ Measures of a Hike’s Difficulty

There’s no one standard for measuring the difficulty or strenuousness of trails, but there are “hard” measures—statistics for any hike—that are commonly used as reference points.

Backpackers hiking down Death Hollow in southern Utah's Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument.
David Gordon and Todd Arndt backpacking down Death Hollow in southern Utah’s Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument.

Those stats include the most obvious one—the distance—as well as the total elevation gain and loss, or how many cumulative feet or meters you walk uphill and downhill. Those also include the actual elevations reached on the hike, because the thinner air at higher elevations—generally, above around 7,000 to 8,000 feet—will usually slow your pace and increase fatigue, but can also exacerbate dehydration and cause unpleasant symptoms like a headache or worse.

Elevation gain and loss will sometimes be described as “cumulative,” meaning the sum of the uphill and downhill; in other words, a hike that goes up 1,000 feet and back down again has 2,000 feet of cumulative elevation gain and loss. Bear in mind that going downhill on a trail, especially a rugged or steep one, can be just as tiring as going uphill, and sometimes harder on leg muscles and joints.

Conversely, while hikes in mountains generally begin with going uphill and conclude with going downhill, in many canyons, it’s just the opposite: You usually go downhill first, then climb back up—and in some places, like the Grand Canyon, you might go quite far downhill before climbing back out. Don’t lose sight of how far you’re going down—which may feel remarkably easy at the beginning of a hike, when you’re fresh—and how much you will have to hike back up again.

The table below uses distance and elevation gain and loss to roughly define five categories of hikes: easy, moderate, hard, very hard, and extremely hard. These are not standardized categories; they are categories I’ve created based on more than three decades of dayhiking and backpacking with people of all abilities, from novices to highly experienced ultra-hikers and backpackers, including my children (and others) from when they were very young through their teen years.

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A hiker in Idaho's Sawtooth Mountains.
Chip Roser hiking off-trail in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains.

These categories are also based on many years of experience using resources, like hiking guidebooks that rate hike difficulty (and I’ve written some), and consulting professionals who design, build, and maintain trails.

The table defines each category according to distance or elevation gain and loss. For example, it rates a hike that covers either five to eight miles or up to 1,500 vertical feet of elevation gain and loss (which is the same as 3,000 feet of cumulative gain and loss) as moderately difficult—in other words, either statistic makes it that difficult. To reframe that, it means a hike on a trail of five to eight miles with little up and down would still qualify as moderate, as would a hike shorter than five miles with an uphill climb of 1,500 vertical feet. 

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Hike Difficulty Rating Scale

RatingDistance ORElevation Gain and Loss (cumulative is double)
Easy5 miles or less500 feet or less
Moderate5 to 8 milesUp to 1,500 feet
Hard8 to 12 milesUp to 3,000 feet
Very Hard12 to 15 milesUp to 5,000 feet
Extremely HardMore than 15 milesMore than 5,000 feet

There’s no precise way to equate the difficulty of a specific measure of distance with a specific amount of elevation gain and loss. Interestingly, the AMC White Mountain Guide, one of the oldest, most comprehensive (it describes 1,400 trails), and probably bestselling hiking guidebooks in the country, uses an estimated hiking time formula of 30 minutes for each mile of horizontal distance or 1,000 feet of vertical (more on that below). That presumably equates the difficulty of one mile and 1,000 vertical feet. And that’s in the White Mountains, where I’ve hiked thousands of miles and which, in my experience, have some of the rockiest, steepest, hardest trails in the country.

I know trail professionals who would dispute that, asserting that hiking 1,000 vertical feet is noticeably more strenuous than walking a flat mile. Based on my experience, I’m more inclined to equate a mile of distance with 500 to 750 vertical feet of elevation gain and loss. Trail conditions and steepness matter, too.

But that range of comparison measures provides some parameters for judging how much a hike’s difficulty increases depending on how much you walk up and downhill.

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A young teenage girl descending from the Fenetre d’Arpette on the Tour du Mont Blanc in Switzerland.
My daughter, Alex, descending the steep trail from the Fenetre d’Arpette pass on the Tour du Mont Blanc in Switzerland. Click photo for my e-book to the Tour du Mont Blanc.

Elevation Gain Per Mile

We all know that steeper trails are harder. And while close contour lines on a map indicate steep terrain, they don’t really reveal how steep a trail is because that depends on the angle of the trail on the ground and the map’s scale. A trail that takes a more direct angle up or down a slope will be steeper—possibly much steeper—than a trail that makes switchbacks, or zigzags across the slope. 

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Learning to—Love?—the Rain on New Zealand’s Milford Track https://thebigoutsideblog.com/learning-to-love-the-rain-on-new-zealands-milford-track/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/learning-to-love-the-rain-on-new-zealands-milford-track/#respond Fri, 11 Apr 2025 18:46:14 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=66791 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

As if by some celestial act of deception, our first day on New Zealand’s Milford Track is, by far, the easiest: We hike just three nearly flat miles—five kilometers—following the track along the rain-fattened and fast-moving Clinton River. And the pleasant temperature and warm sunshine pouring onto us from partly cloudy skies almost lulls us into illusions of such relatively ideal (for this place) weather persisting throughout our four days on the Milford.

But we’re not fooled. We’ve seen the forecast and already received other warning signals of what awaits us. And the truth is, even those data points will not, could not paint a complete picture of just how wet it would get out here over the next few days.

Then again, nor could any forecast or warning prepare us for the biggest surprise of the adventure ahead of us: the magical, close to fairytale effect that biblical rains have on this epically, monumentally wet place called Fiordland National Park.


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A trekker hiking the Milford Track toward Mackinnon Pass in Fiordland National Park, New Zealand.
Cat Serio hiking the Milford Track toward Mackinnon Pass in Fiordland National Park, New Zealand.

My wife, Penny, our daughter, Alex, our good friend Cat Serio and I have come to Fiordland to spend four days walking one of the most famous and popular multi-day, hut-to-hut treks in the world, the Milford Track.

Measuring 33.2 miles/53.5 kilometers, the trail makes a one-way traverse beginning at Lake Te Anau, rising through rainforest—what Kiwis call “the bush”—to cross the mountains at 3,786-foot/1,154-meter Mackinnon Pass. The track then makes a long descent back into rainforest to finish at sea level in Milford Sound—also known as Piopiotahi, the name given to it by New Zealand’s native Maori people—where sheer-walled peaks soar 4,000 to 5,000 feet (1,200 to 1,500 meters) or more straight up out of this narrow corridor to the sea.

After a 75-minute boat cruise across Lake Te Anau, where steep and intensely green mountains erupt from the water’s edge in almost every direction, we hike the flat, wide first section of the Milford Track through lush rainforest along the Clinton River for not much more than an hour to Clinton Hut, set within a clearing in the virtually impenetrable bush that fills the valley. On all sides, rainforest clings to mountainsides rising steeply to pinnacled ridges and peaks. Here and there, “slips,” or landslides triggered by often unceasing, occasionally heavy rainfall, scar the valley walls.

Yesterday, we weren’t sure we’d make it here.

A trekker hiking the Milford Track up the Clinton River Valley to Mintauro Hut, Fiordland National Park, New Zealand.
My daughter, Alex, hiking the Milford Track up the Clinton River Valley to Mintauro Hut, Fiordland National Park, New Zealand. Click photo for my expert e-book to trekking the Milford Track.

I had received an email from the New Zealand Department of Conservation (DOC)—sort of New Zealand’s equivalent of the U.S. National Park Service, managing the parks as well as hut bookings—warning of the possibility of our Milford reservations being canceled due to the forecast calling for 80 millimeters (over three inches) of rain. When I spoke with a ranger at the DOC visitor center in the little town of Te Anau, on the edge of Fiordland, he said that if the forecast reached 100 millimeters by morning on the day we were to start the Milford, the DOC would close the entire track for the day because of concerns over dangerous flooding. The result: All trekkers on it must layover a second night at their current hut—creating a backup that would necessitate canceling the trips for all hikers slated to start the Milford that day.

We entertained mental images of hiking through rain that heavy—“heevee roin,” as Kiwis pronounce it—reassuring ourselves… repeatedly… that we have very good rain jackets and pants. Then we got lucky, although we weren’t initially certain this represented a stroke of “good” luck: The DOC decided to keep the Milford Track open. Game on.

Instead of drenching rain while walking to the first hut, we enjoy moments of sunshine interspersed with clouds. The notoriously ravenous sandflies aren’t too thick, but they cluster in little clouds around our heads trying to feed anytime we stop moving or if we hang out on the hut’s outside deck. (Everyone sharing our bunkroom opens and closes the door quickly when entering and exiting to minimize insect invaders.)

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‘The Forecast Looks Dismal’

A trekker below waterfalls along the Milford Track in the Clinton River Valley, Fiordland National Park, New Zealand.
My daughter, Alex, below waterfalls along the Milford Track in the Clinton River Valley, Fiordland National Park, New Zealand.

By late afternoon, the increasingly grayer overcast begins spitting raindrops.

That evening, in Clinton Hut’s main cooking and dining building, the ranger gives us details about the hike ahead of us tomorrow, some natural and human history of the Milford Track, and the emergency protocols in case of a fire starting inside the hut—which seems an extraordinarily low likelihood as the rain intensifies through the night, but people routinely do extraordinarily foolish things like setting hats and gloves to dry directly atop the dining room’s extraordinarily hot woodstove.

But his words that undoubtedly land most powerfully with his audience are: “The forecast for the next two weeks looks dismal.” That word dismal echoes even more ominously when one considers that, for these rangers, rain is entirely normal, like the sandflies: something you just live with.

This is my fourth trip to New Zealand. I’ve hiked some of the Great Walks and other tracks, including some here in Fiordland—my favorite of this wonderful country’s parks—including the Kepler Track and New Zealand’s “hardest hut trek,” the Dusky Track. I’ve seen how much it can rain here. It’s no joke.

Throughout the night, rain falls steadily, increasing in intensity for short bursts. Thunder peels at startling volumes and lightning occasionally fills the hut with the light of midday.

Hearing it drumming on the roof when I awaken a couple of times during the night, one simple thought fills my mind: It has begun.

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Fiordland National Park

Fiordland National Park sprawls over nearly three million acres (1.2 million hectares) of the southwest corner of New Zealand’s South Island, an area larger than America’s Yosemite and Yellowstone national parks combined and larger than all but seven U.S. national parks (six in Alaska and California’s Death Valley). Mostly a wilderness of thick rainforest, rugged mountains, and long, deep fiords, it has glaciers, alpine ranges, and flora and fauna found nowhere else on Earth, that have existed since New Zealand was part of the supercontinent Gondwanaland.

Fiordland National Park, Mount Aspiring National Park, Aoraki/Mount Cook National Park, and Westland Tai Poutini National Park comprise the Te Wahipounamu—South West New Zealand World Heritage Site, spanning over 6.4 million acres (2.6 million hectares), or 10 percent of New Zealand’s landmass, recognized by UNESCO as ecologically significant for having a wide range of geographical features and a pristine ecosystem where rare wildlife flourish.

The water bodies at either end of the Milford Track stretch beyond sight. Forty miles/64 kilometers long and covering 133 square miles/344 square kilometers, Lake Te Anau is the second-largest lake by surface area in New Zealand and the largest on the South Island, and its average depth is 554 feet/169 meters. The 10-mile-long (16-kilometer) fiord of Milford Sound—one of 15 fiords that incise the park’s coastline—reaches a depth of 1,312 feet/400 meters.

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A trekker hiking the Milford Track below waterfalls in the Arthur River Valley, Fiordland National Park, New Zealand.
My daughter, Alex, hiking the Milford Track below waterfalls in the Arthur River Valley, Fiordland National Park, New Zealand. Click photo for my expert e-book “The Complete Guide to Trekking New Zealand’s World-Famous Milford Track.”

As for rain, well. The average annual precipitation on the Milford Track hits seven to nine meters, or 275 to 350 inches. One hut ranger tells us the Milford Sound area receives anywhere from nine to as much as 12 meters of rain a year—that’s up to 472 inches, or more than 10 times the annual rainfall of famously gray and drizzly Seattle. Pour that much water into a multi-story building and it will fill it up to the fourth-floor ceiling.

But here’s the surprising thing: Ask people who have enough experience out here to know the Milford Track’s many faces and they will tell you that the best times to hike it are actually during heavy rain.

And it’s not just some universal insider Kiwi joke played on oblivious tourists. The mysteries concealed around every bend in the foggy valleys, the rivers bloated and rushing with awesome power, the moody gray of the bush that can seem to enhance the endless variety of shades of green—and especially, the waterfalls that spring to life, swell to shocking dimensions, and become too numerous and frequent to count, are what make the Milford Track experience one that’s arguably unmatched anywhere.

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Clinton Hut to Mintauro Hut

Come morning, Alex, Cat, Penny, and I are not feeling any need to dash out the door of our warm and, most notably, dry bunkroom at Clinton Hut, especially while listening to the relentless patter on the metal roof and the random peels of psyche-rattling thunder. Other trekkers begin trickling out the door in full rain gear and pack covers, headed, like us, to Mintauro Hut—nearly 11 miles/17.5 kilometers and six soggy hours from here.

Around 9:30 a.m., with the sky a forlornly gloomy and deep hue of gray, we hit the trail to be greeted by rain spattering us while the waterlogged forest’s leafy overstory releases its own steady shower of fat water drops onto us. And despite the constant sensation of walking in the heavy mist of a large waterfall, we’re excited. After all, we are hiking the Milford Track!

Fortunately, the precipitation remains just persistent and moderate with periods of lighter rain—never escalating to a deluge. Not today, anyway.

At first, we catch only glimpses of the broader Clinton River Valley through brief gaps in the dense bush. But a couple of hours from Clinton Hut, we emerge from the forest into much more open meadows in the upper valley—and a scene that conjures the realm of the elves in Lord of the Rings (not surprisingly, since those movies were filmed in New Zealand; yup, it’s just hard to resist that reference).

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A trekker hiking the Milford Track to Mintauro Hut, Fiordland National Park, New Zealand.
Cat Serio hiking the Milford Track to Mintauro Hut, Fiordland National Park, New Zealand.

Cottony puffs of small clouds lumber low along the valley walls, but the solid gray ceiling has risen nearly to the mountaintops, revealing cliffs garbed in dense rainforest up and down both sides of the valley. All along these darkly green walls, white ribbons of waterfalls, dozens of them, more than we could possibly tally up while walking, plunge and tumble downward in sheer drops and only-slightly-less-vertical cascades, some separating into braids and then rejoining again, or merging into another waterfall, and each of them falling hundreds of vertical feet, their rain-swelled volume generating their own little clouds of mist. We stop below a few walls of braided falls to admire—and, mostly, just gawk.

Even in the rain, it’s so beautiful that we don’t try to rush today’s hike. By the time we reach the Mintauro hut, we’re sopping from head to toe, fully ready to shed our wet layers, dry off, warm up, and put on the dry clothes safely packed in waterproof stuff sacks inside our backpacks. Hiking for hours in steady rain, cool temperatures, and wind sucks heat and energy from the body. We’re tired and hungry, but also, I think it’s fair to say, we’re all enchanted by our first full day on the Milford Track.

The dining room sounds like a party as 40 guests cook and eat and rejoice in the dry warmth of the woodstove and the heat produced by so many humans. Previous hut treks in New Zealand have taught me that, as is true in other world-class trekking destinations like the Tour du Mont Blanc, Iceland, Italy’s Dolomites, and Patagonia, the huts function as a gathering space for people from a multitude of countries, where you’ll overhear conversations in numerous languages. The cacophony of excited banter bounces off the walls as everyone recounts their day among their own family or group and meets new people who shared this experience of walking here today from Clinton Hut through the rain and the valley of waterfalls.

Murray, the Mintauro Hut ranger since this nice, new structure opened in April 2021, gives the usual talk about safety protocols and some history of this hut and the Milford Track. Then he moves around the room meeting some guests. Sitting to chat with us, he doesn’t mince words about tomorrow, when we hike the route’s crux, crossing Mackinnon Pass: It’s going to rain all day. A lot.

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Mintauro Hut to Dumpling Hut

In the morning, yes, it’s raining. I don’t think it has stopped since yesterday and it continues falling lightly but steadily as we leave Mintauro at 8:30 a.m. to begin the 1,600-foot/500-meter climb to Mackinnon Pass. From the clearing just outside the hut, we can see that pronounced chop in the mountains: A cloud almost as thick as honey washes over the pass like a waterfall. Not a promising sign.

Alex and Penny slowly pull ahead of Cat and me as we ascend the trail’s moderate angle through long switchbacks, separating into “buddy” pairs so no one’s alone while all moving at a pace that keeps us warm without sweating too much—wet base layers against skin could make us cold and risk hypothermia, especially once we hit the wind that’s screaming over the pass. In the bush, much of the wind and rain doesn’t reach us, but the trees are still so overladen with water that the dripping simulates a rainstorm.

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Trekkers hiking the Milford Track to Mintauro Hut, Fiordland National Park, New Zealand.
My wife, Penny, and Cat Serio hiking the Milford Track to Mintauro Hut, Fiordland National Park, New Zealand.

Before long, we emerge above the bush line—the distinctive margin where the forest abruptly ends and gives way to alpine terrain—to views of the head of the Clinton River Valley from high above the valley bottom, looking out over its green, fortress-like mountainsides scored by countless tall ribbons of falling water. Gray clouds verging on black swirl around the clifftops. The scale of it feels overwhelming and thrilling.

As we near the pass, the wind starts to pick up—and just minutes farther up the trail, it really gathers steam.

As Cat and I crest the expansive, rolling, and wide-open terrain of the pass and commence a long, winding alpine traverse across it, the wind, squeezed through this natural funnel in the mountains, buffets us, the strongest gusts nearly knocking us over. Bullets of horizontal rain pelt our cheeks, the only part of our faces not shielded by our hoods.

With the fusillade of rain and wind pounding us on one side, we hustle as fast as we can over the wet rocks and puddled trail to duck inside the small Mackinnon Pass Shelter, where we catch up to Penny and Alex. With numerous, dripping wet rain jackets hanging from hooks in the mud room and as many trekkers crowded onto the benches or stand inside the one small main room, fog hangs as thickly in here as outside these walls. We recognize everyone and are getting to know some because we’re all on the same hut schedule, like all Milford trekkers.

Luxuriating in this respite from the wind and rain, we linger for close to an hour, boiling water for hot drinks on one of the gas cookers. There’s no hope of drying anything we’re wearing or truly warming up; we stay only long enough to feel less cold, but leave before our body core temps start dropping. We must move for heat.

We step back out into the wind and driving rain. Shifting curtains of fog reveal the contours of Mackinnon Pass: huge, vertiginous walls of rock and rainforest with yet more long ribbons of water pouring down them, all bloated to exaggerated dimensions by the incessant rain. Across from us, one waterfall freefalls for hundreds of feet; another gets squeezed through a constriction in rock, creating a gigantic waterspout bursting from the cliff face. 

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Dumpling Hut on the Milford Track, Fiordland National Park, New Zealand.
Dumpling Hut on the Milford Track, Fiordland National Park, New Zealand.

Descending the trail in another wrestling match against the wind—which I think we could, at best, depict as a draw—we finally reach the relative protection of the bush, where the wind no longer menaces us. But the rain keeps coming in intermittent waves of light and heavy.

At this point, there’s no question in my mind that this day has already morphed into one of the wettest I’ve experienced in 40 years of hiking, backpacking, climbing, and trekking thousands of miles around the U.S. and the world.

Water covers most of the trail; but for the few steps here and there where our boots do not incur some level of immersion, we splash into at least a couple of inches of water with every stride. Puddles have over-topped our boots so many times we’ve given up hope of having dry feet again on this trip. The rain has even penetrated our rain jackets and pants in certain spots, mainly where the waterlogged shoulder straps and hipbelt are essentially squeezing water through the shells’ membranes. But our mostly dry fleece insulation is helping keep us warm enough. That, and simply moving.

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Waterfalls in the Arthur River Valley, seen from the Milford Track in Fiordland National Park, New Zealand.
Waterfalls in the Arthur River Valley, seen from the Milford Track in Fiordland National Park, New Zealand. Click photo for my expert e-book “The Complete Guide to Trekking New Zealand’s World-Famous Milford Track.”

All around us in the forest, water rushes downhill. We cross innumerable footbridges over swollen, deafening creeks. Storm-spawned streamlets erupt from the bush to form a small but fast-moving current across the track. Some of them flow down the trail and even more streamlets enter it, transforming the trail into a creek for many meters until a drainage wall of rocks diverts it into the bush. 

For hours, we hear almost nothing but the sounds of water filling our ears: waterfalls, cascades, flooded trail, and rain drumming onto the forest canopy, the ground, our hoods.

Cat and I descend a very steep stretch of the Milford Track, mostly on wooden stairways constructed on the high-angle earth, alongside a cascade pumped up like a bodybuilder to insane dimensions, the roaring whitewater plummeting through a stone stairway over drops of 10, 20, 30 feet. 

After a short break out of the rain under the roof of the Andersons Cascade Shelter, we agree that Alex can depart ahead of us to reach the hut faster and grab four bunks for us; and I leave soon after her, contemplating the side hike of perhaps 90 minutes out and back to Sutherland Falls, the tallest in New Zealand at over 1,900 feet/580 meters. Uninterested in that side trip, Penny and Cat will hike together at their own pace to the hut. Not long afterward, at the junction with the trail to Sutherland, it’s visible in the distance, raising a plume of mist half its height; but my feeling of thorough wetness has dampened my interest in spending even more time in the rain.

 

A little while later, I reach what looks like a swollen creek crashing over rocks; but it’s not a creek, it’s the flooded track, with a fast-moving, knee-deep current racing down it. A small, young woman stands there, looks at me, and in halting English, asks where we should cross. I point and walk to a spot a short distance upstream where it’s a bit wider and only perhaps calf-deep, and I hand her one of my poles for the crossing. She asks if she can follow me and I say, “Yes, sure.” We wade down the current’s edge to the point where the floodwater diverts off the path, briefly leaving us hiking in a merely shallow little stream. That doesn’t last long.

We ford yet more floodwater flowing across the trail, both laughing at the craziness of this scene. We pause to look up at muscular, massive waterfalls, including one some 20 feet wide that falls over several tiers for maybe a hundred feet, an enormous flow of water that thunders beneath a footbridge as we stroll across it.

Finally—more than eight miles/13 kilometers and several hours from Mintauro, my new friend and I reach Dumpling Hut, exchange a laugh, handshake, and first names, then go looking for our own companions. I immediately find Alex in one of the bunkrooms, happily lying warm and dry inside her sleeping bag. Not long afterward, Penny and Cat arrive, all smiles. It’s been an unbelievable day and we’re happy—no, elated—to be here.

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Dumpling Hut to Sandfly Point

Our last day begins with several people in the bunkroom rising before 6 a.m. and moving around quietly, using headlamps, to a soundtrack of long, very loud peels of thunder, flashes of lightning, and—incredibly—the loudest rain we’ve heard yet on this trip beating upon the roof.

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The 30 Nicest Backcountry Campsites I’ve Hiked Past https://thebigoutsideblog.com/photo-gallery-12-nicest-backcountry-campsites-ive-hiked-past/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/photo-gallery-12-nicest-backcountry-campsites-ive-hiked-past/#comments Sun, 06 Apr 2025 09:00:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=8431 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

It is one of those unfortunate inevitabilities of life, like death and taxes: Occasionally on backpacking trips you will hike past one of the most sublime patches of wilderness real estate you have ever laid eyes on, a spot so idyllic you can already see your tent pitched there and you standing outside it, warm mug in your hands, watching a glorious sunset. But it’s early and your plan entails hiking farther before you stop for the day—not camping there. Or your permit isn’t for that site. Or even worse, you are looking for a campsite, but someone else has already occupied this little corner of Heaven.

Disappointment is an awfully large pill to swallow, especially if you know you may never get back to that place. Then again, you might make a note on your map and return there someday. Goals are a powerful motivator.

My recently updated story “Tent Flap With a View: 25 Favorite Backcountry Campsites” has photos and descriptions of the best spots in the wilderness where I’ve ever spent a night over the past three-plus decades, including many years running this blog and previously as a field editor for Backpacker magazine for 10 years. So it seems fitting to spotlight the best camps I never had but wish I did—all of them places potentially awaiting your tent.

Just make sure you get there before someone else grabs it.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


This list grows every year—an inevitable outcome of backpacking frequently—giving you more ideas for trips to take. The descriptions below include links to stories at The Big Outside about those trips, with more images and information about planning them. Those stories about trips, and many other stories at this blog, require a paid subscription to read in full, although you don’t need a subscription to purchase any of my E-books or my Custom Trip Planning.

Please share your questions or suggestions about these campsites or others in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

A mother and young daughter backpacking the High Sierra Trail above Hamilton Lakes, Sequoia National Park.
My wife, Penny, and daughter, Alex, backpacking the High Sierra Trail above Hamilton Lakes, Sequoia National Park.

Hamilton Lakes, Sequoia National Park

Granted, there are a lot of great campsites in the High Sierra. But some really do stand out even from the many extraordinary sites—in fact, two of our camps on this Sequoia trip made my list of 25 favorite backcountry campsites.

After a morning hike along a stretch of the High Sierra Trail that traverses hundreds of feet above the cliff-flanked canyon of the Middle Fork Kaweah River, we reached the largest of the Hamilton Lakes, nestled in a bowl of granite at 8,235 feet, just in time for a long lunch break. Everyone took a swim in the invigorating water, but mostly we just soaked up the panorama of jagged peaks rising to over 12,000 feet that surround the lake.

See my story about that 40-mile, family backpacking trip, “Heavy Lifting: Backpacking Sequoia National Park,” with lots of photos and a video, and all stories about backpacking in the High Sierra at The Big Outside.

Get the right pack for you. See “The 10 Best Backpacking Packs
and the best ultralight backpacks.

A campsite in Alaska Basin on the Teton Crest Trail, Grand Teton National Park.
A campsite in Alaska Basin on the Teton Crest Trail.

Alaska Basin, Teton Crest Trail

A campsite in Alaska Basin on the Teton Crest Trail, Grand Teton National Park.
A campsite in Alaska Basin on the Teton Crest Trail.

There’s hardly a bad place to pitch a tent (legally) in all of Grand Teton National Park—and certainly not even a mediocre spot along the Teton Crest Trail. In fact, my list of 25 favorite backcountry campsites includes two along the TCT. But simply because I’ve always been successful at getting my desired campsites on my backcountry permit, I have always hiked through the one area along the TCT that lies outside the national park and doesn’t require a permit for camping: Alaska Basin.

But I’ve hiked through it enough times to realize what I’m missing. The two campsites shown in these photos happen to be perfect perches we passed that lie just off the TCT in the basin. Both have broad, flat areas of clean granite with amazing 360-degree panoramas of the mountains and cliffs surrounding Alaska Basin. That’s why I’ve recommended Alaska Basin as a campsite depending on the type of hiking itinerary people are seeking when I provide custom trip planning for the TCT.

See my story about my most-recent trip on the TCT, “A Wonderful Obsession: Backpacking the Teton Crest Trail.”

Get my Teton Crest Trail e-book or my custom trip planning for the TCT.

The large ledge below Yuma Point, just off the Boucher Trail in the Grand Canyon.
The large ledge below Yuma Point, just off the Boucher Trail in the Grand Canyon.

Yuma Point, Grand Canyon

Campsites below Yuma Point, along the Boucher Trail in the Grand Canyon.
Campsites below Yuma Point, along the Boucher Trail in the Grand Canyon.

On the last, hard but stunningly pretty day of a 40-mile hike from the South Kaibab to the Hermit trailhead, our group of six family and friends ascended the often steep and difficult Boucher Trail—yet another tortured footpath that illustrates why the words “hard but stunningly pretty” describe so many trails in the Big Ditch. After a long uphill grind, we reached the long, level bench the Boucher Trail follows below Yuma Point, at just over 5,400 feet, and saw immediately why in-the-know GC backpackers consider it one of the very best campsites in the canyon.

Several spacious, obviously pre-used camps on dirt sit right behind a large, flat rock ledge at the brink of cliffs overlooking a huge swath of the canyon from more than 3,000 feet above the Colorado River. Yes, I sure did imagine laying my pad and bag out on that ledge, gazing up at a night sky crazy with stars and then watching the sunrise light up the canyon. Those camps lie a short walk off the Boucher Trail 5.2 miles from the Hermit Trailhead, at 6,640 feet—and that’s about the only relatively “easy” way to get there. One drawback: Yuma Point lies right below the Dragon Corridor, where the sky is filled with a daily invasion of constant sightseeing overflights between 8 a.m. and 5 p.m.

See “Backpacking the Grand Canyon: Tonto West to Boucher Trail” and all stories about backpacking in the Grand Canyon at The Big Outside.

Planning your next big adventure? See “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips
and “Tent Flap With a View: 25 Favorite Backcountry Campsites.”

 

A backpacker in Death Hollow in southern Utah's Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument.
Todd Arndt backpacking down Death Hollow in southern Utah’s Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument.

Death Hollow, Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument

I’d read on some websites that viable campsites were non-existent in Death Hollow, in the Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument. And looking at the contour lines of this deep and generally narrow cleavage in the slickrock plateau, it did seem like a bad bet to assume one would find good camps in there. Turned out, that was wrong.

On the middle day of a three-day hike on the 22-mile Death Hollow Loop, two friends and I backpacked down the dramatic canyon of Death Hollow, frequently walking in the creek amid small cascades and weaving our way around deep, calm pools and other obstacles and hazards—and bushwhacking through thickets of poison ivy that stood taller than us. And we passed a handful of camps where we’d have been happy to spend a night on one of the best backpacking trips in the Southwest, where each of our three days presented different terrain and scenery, a sort of three-in-one wilderness adventure in landscapes that repeatedly made me to pause and just gape.

See my story “Backpacking Utah’s Mind-Blowing Death Hollow Loop” at The Big Outside.

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A backpacker passing Liberty Lake on the Ruby Crest Trail, Ruby Mountains, Nevada.
My wife, Penny, hiking past Liberty Lake on the Ruby Crest Trail, Ruby Mountains, Nevada.

Liberty Lake, Ruby Crest Trail

On the last afternoon of my family’s backpacking trip on Nevada’s Ruby Crest Trail, a steady uphill climb deposited us at the edge of Liberty Lake, a cobalt eye tucked tightly within a shoreline of granite slabs, patches of evergreen forest, and a talus mountainside. We followed the trail around and above the lake, where we stood on a ledge overlooking the lake and the long chain of the Ruby Mountains stretching into the distance (lead photo at top of story). Although camping there didn’t fit neatly into our four-day itinerary, it was easy to see why other backpackers had set up camp nearby.

Liberty Lake was not the only highlight of an approximately 36-mile, south-to-north traverse of the Ruby Crest Trail. We enjoyed a campsite on another beautiful alpine lake, wildflowers in bloom, relatively few other backpackers, and long stretches of hiking above 10,000 feet, traversing an almost treeless alpine zone for miles.

See my story about my family’s trip, “Backpacking the Ruby Crest Trail—A Diamond in the Rough,” at The Big Outside.

Get a full wilderness experience.
See “12 Expert Tips For Finding Solitude When Backpacking.”

 

A young girl hiker at Imogene Lake, Sawtooth Mountains, Idaho.
My daughter, Alex, at Imogene Lake in the Sawtooth Mountains.

Imogene Lake, Sawtooth Wilderness

Returning to Imogene Lake again for the first time in some years, on a weekend backpacking trip with my then-11-year-old daughter, I was reminded just how gorgeous this sprawling water body is. On calm days—like we had on that visit—the water reflects an Impressionist painting-like panorama of pine forest and rocky peaks.

I was actually planning to finally atone for my sin of having hiked past Imogene on at least two or three previous occasions by setting up camp here with my daughter. But we got a late start on a Friday and rolled in to Hell Roaring Lake—four miles below Imogene—after dark. So we just dayhiked to Imogene. I’ll camp there yet—I swear. Meanwhile, Hell Roaring is a pretty nice spot, too, and close enough to visit Imogene on a morning hike.

See my story “Jewels of the Sawtooths: Backpacking to Alice, Hell Roaring, and Imogene Lakes,” about father-son and father-daughter backpacking trips in Idaho’s Sawtooths, and all stories about backpacking in the Sawtooths, including in the remote southern Sawtooth Wilderness and “The Best Hikes and Backpacking Trips in Idaho’s Sawtooths.”

Want to read any story linked here?
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A campsite below Nevills Arch in lower Owl Canyon, Bears Ears National Monument, Utah.
A campsite below Nevills Arch in lower Owl Canyon, Bears Ears National Monument, Utah.

Below Nevills Arch, Owl Canyon, Bears Ears National Monument

Consider this a shining example of “if we’d just hiked a little while longer, and started early enough to beat the party that got there first, we’d have camped here.” On the second morning of our three-day loop through Owl and Fish canyons, in southeastern Utah’s Bears Ears National Monument, we walked through the amphitheater where striking Nevills Arch presides over a sort of royal court of tall, red cliffs and pinnacles that resemble melted candles—and right past the lone campsite on flat, packed dirt that sits within the warm embrace of that amphitheater.

Having camped (at a pretty nice spot, anyway) just an easy 30-minute or shorter walk farther up Owl Canyon, it was a little painful seeing how close we’d come to enjoying this camp—although the small group who’d camped there were still packing up as we strolled past it. One of the best backpacking trips in the Southwest, the two- to three-day Owl-Fish loop offers an unusual combination of qualities: short distance, incredible scenery (and night skies), solitude, rugged hiking and scrambling, and a permit that’s easier to get than for better-known Southwest backpacking trips.

See my story “Backpacking Southern Utah’s Owl and Fish Canyons” and all stories about backpacking in Utah at The Big Outside.

A backpacker hiking past Elbow Lake on the Highline Trail in Wyoming's Wind River Range.
My wife, Penny, backpacking past Elbow Lake on the Highline Trail in Wyoming’s Wind River Range.

Elbow Lake, Wind River Range

In the week before Labor Day 2022, a prime time to be in the mountains, my wife, Penny, our friend, Chip, and I backpacked a five-day, roughly 43-mile loop from the New Fork/Doubletop Mountain Trailhead at New Fork Lakes, mostly exploring an area of the Winds I had not seen before. But we also walked a stretch of the Highline Trail (part of the Continental Divide Trail) which I had hiked previously (on this trip), reminding me not only how nice that trail is but that I’ve now hiked past Elbow Lake twice without laying out my sleeping bag there.

I rank that day among the prettiest I’ve ever hiked in the Winds—and that’s saying a lot. We started out from one of the best backcountry campsites I’ve ever had, overlooking the lower of the Twin Lakes, 12,119-foot Sky Pilot Peak, and 12,224-foot Mount Oeneis, following the Highline Trail past several alpine lakes and tarns to sprawling Elbow Lake—embraced by granite slabs and grassy earth where you can’t help but picture your tent pitched. From there, we continued to a pair of high passes and more spectacular lakes.

And as happened throughout that trip, we passed fewer than 10 people all day.

See “Backpacking Through a Lonely Corner of the Wind River Range” all stories about backpacking in the Wind River Range at The Big Outside. National forest and wilderness managers require camping at least 200 feet from any lake or trail in the Winds.

Do you love backcountry lakes?
Check out these photos of the most gorgeous wilderness lakes I’ve ever seen.

A backpacker hiking to Iceberg Lake in the Ansel Adams Wilderness, High Sierra.
David Ports backpacking to Iceberg Lake, below the Minarets in the Ansel Adams Wilderness, High Sierra.

Iceberg Lake, Ansel Adams Wilderness

Two companions and I walked one of the finest sections of the John Muir Trail on a nine-day, north-south trek of nearly 130 miles through the Ansel Adams and John Muir Wildernesses and Kings Canyon National Park, exploring high lakes basins and crossing passes at 11,000 to 12,000 feet. But one highlight came early in that trip, when we detoured off the JMT to hike below the row of jagged spires called the Minarets in the Ansel Adams.

On the steep uphill hike from Ediza Lake—itself a nice spot to pitch a tent—we reached Iceberg Lake, tucked into a compact bowl at 9,774 feet right at the foot of sheer rock walls that rise to sharp points. Not far from the lakeshore, we saw some perfect little patches of dirt for tents. The Minarets can be visited on a weekend or three- to four-day hike that will give you a great sampler of the central High Sierra.

See photos and read about this area in my story “High Sierra Ramble: 130 Miles On—and Off—the John Muir Trail,” and check out “10 Great John Muir Trail Section Hikes” and all stories about backpacking in the High Sierra at The Big Outside.

I can help you plan this or any other trip you read about at my blog. Find out more here.

A backpacker at Dead Horse Lake on the Uinta Highline Trail, High Uintas Wilderness, Utah.
My son, Nate, at Dead Horse Lake on the Uinta Highline Trail, High Uintas Wilderness, Utah.

Dead Horse Lake, Uinta Highline Trail, High Uintas Wilderness

In an unusual window of warm and mostly clear weather in early October, my 24-year-old son, Nate, and I backpacked nearly 60 miles through Utah’s High Uintas Wilderness, mostly on the Uinta Highline Trail—which blew us away. We had some great camps, but one we sadly walked past was beside Dead Horse Lake, at around 10,900 feet at the head of a lake-filled basin tucked inside a ragged horseshoe of castle-like peaks between Red Knob Pass, at 12,000 feet, and Dead Horse Pass, at 11,600 feet.

Getting there isn’t easy from any direction—which typically ensures more solitude—and neither is getting out. Hiking southbound from the lake on the Uinta Highline, we climbed below tall cliffs and sheer buttresses soaring several hundred feet above us, the trail tilting steeply upward, weaving through huge boulders, and frequently consisting of no more than a goat path of boot prints across sliding scree. At Dead Horse Pass, I told Nate, “I think I know what killed the horse.”

Still, the High Uintas, and especially the Uinta Highline Trail, deserve more attention from serious backpackers than they get: This place is a big, majestic wilderness with 13,000-foot peaks and over 1,000 mountain lakes. Go there.

See my story “Backpacking—and Sandbagging—Utah’s Uinta Highline Trail” and all stories about backpacking in Utah’s High Uintas at The Big Outside.

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The Narrows, Zion National Park

Second morning in The Narrows, Zion National Park.
Second morning in Zion’s Narrows.

Rather than pick one of the campsites in Zion’s Narrows that a friend and I hiked past—we stayed in campsite one, which made my list of 25 favorite backcountry campsites—I have to give all of the 11 other designated campsites in The Narrows a collective spot on this list.

On the second day of an overnight, top-to-bottom backpacking trip of The Narrows, we checked out campsites two through 12, and I eventually gave up on the idea of picking a favorite. Each one sits within sight and earshot of the burbling river, below sheer, multi-colored walls rising hundreds of feet to a ribbon of sky overhead. Some may have a little more space or some other appeal; but given the location, any one of them guarantees you an incomparable night.

See my story “Luck of the Draw, Part 2: Backpacking Zion’s Narrows.”

Do this trip right using my e-book “The Complete Guide to Backpacking Zion’s Narrows.”

A backpacker hiking Indian Ridge, overlooking Half Dome in Yosemite National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking Indian Ridge, overlooking Half Dome in Yosemite.

Indian Ridge, Yosemite National Park

On our first night in the backcountry during a four-day, 45-mile hike in Yosemite, a friend and I carried water up onto Indian Ridge, on Yosemite Valley’s North Rim, and found a great campsite a short walk from an unnamed dome overlooking a panorama that took in Half Dome and distant mountains to the south. We watched a sunset linger until the final light of day dripped from the sky.

But not long after hitting the trail the next morning, we saw where we wished we had camped. A little farther down Indian Ridge, the terrain opens up and flat spots abound just off the trail—where we saw no other backpackers. We had a much closer and more spectacular view looking directly at the huge Northwest Face of Half Dome just across the deep gulf of the Valley. Park regulations require camping at least a half-mile from the North Rim of Yosemite Valley—which is easy to achieve and have plenty of spots to choose from on Indian Ridge—and more significantly, you have to carry water up there.

But I don’t know of another spot in the backcountry where you can camp with that kind of view of Yosemite Valley.

See my feature story about that trip, “Yosemite’s Best-Kept Secret Backpacking Trip.”

Get the right shelter for your trips. See “The 10 Best Backpacking Tents
and “How to Choose the Best Ultralight Backpacking Tent for You.”

Elizabeth Lake in Glacier National Park.
Elizabeth Lake in Glacier National Park.

Elizabeth Lake, Glacier National Park

I first included Elizabeth Lake on this list after backpacking Glacier’s magnificent Northern Loop, which I describe how to plan and hike in my e-book “The Best Backpacking Trip in Glacier National Park.” But since then, I’ve returned to Glacier to make a comparably awe-inspiring, 90-mile, north-south traverse of the park, mostly following the Continental Divide Trail, but with some variations I built into the route to show friends who accompanied me what I consider some the finest scenery in Glacier (described in this e-book).

And on our first night of that more-recent trip, we camped at Elizabeth Lake—and I got the photo above early the next morning, as the calm, chill air turned the lake into a mirror reflecting the surrounding, jagged peaks. So technically, I’ve now hiked past Elizabeth (twice, actually) and camped there, but I decided it still belongs on this list so that you don’t risk passing up a chance to spend a night there.

See my stories about backpacking Glacier’s Northern Loop and Gunsight Pass Trail and about traversing the park mostly following the Continental Divide Trail, and my most recent hike in Glacier, a weeklong traverse mostly on the CDT with an itinerary and camps that varied from the first CDT trip.

Glacier ranks among “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips.”

A campsite beneath a huge undercut near Jacob Hamblin Arch in Coyote Gulch, Utah.
A campsite beneath a huge undercut near Jacob Hamblin Arch in Coyote Gulch, Utah.

Jacob Hamblin Arch, Coyote Gulch

I had fully intended for our group of two families to spend our second night backpacking Coyote Gulch right beneath Jacob Hamblin Arch; I remembered, from a trip there years earlier, that it’s a magical spot to layover and watch the light shift.

But when our group reached Coyote Natural Bridge that afternoon, the kids were ready to call it a day; and it being about an hour (at a family pace) downstream from Jacob Hamblin, and not a bad place at all to pitch tents on the broad, sandy beach below the bridge (it was formerly on my top 25 best backcountry campsites list), I quickly gave up on the idea of reaching the arch. I also knew the arch is a popular spot, so all available sites could be snapped up by the time we got there. It turned out they weren’t, and a prime campsite, on the upstream side looking right up at the arch, was actually empty when we got there the next morning. Oh, well.

See my story about backpacking Coyote Gulch and dayhiking slot canyons and trails in Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument and neighboring Bryce Canyon and Capitol Reef national parks for more photos, videos, and detailed trip-planning information.

After Coyote Gulch, hike the rest of “The 12 Best Backpacking Trips in the Southwest.”

A backpacker on the Shannon Pass Trail above Peak Lake, Wind River Range, Wyoming.
Mark Fenton backpacking past Peak Lake, Wind River Range, Wyoming.

Island Lake and Peak Lake, Wind River Range

Island Lake, in the Wind River Range, Wyoming.
Island Lake in the Wind River Range.

Take a long walk in the Winds and you can hardly swing an extended tent pole without hitting a lake or tarn. When two friends and I backpacked a roughly 41-mile loop in the Winds, I deliberately planned a route that included a night in Titcomb Basin, where lakes shimmer below the soaring granite walls of 13,000-foot peaks. But we inevitably hiked past countless, pretty lakes that presented alluring campsites.

Two of the most memorable were Island Lake, where we stopped for lunch en route to Titcomb, and Peak Lake, which nestles in a tiny bowl below peaks that resemble incisors, and which we reached after hiking cross-country from Titcomb over Knapsack Col and down a lonely valley to reach the Shannon Pass Trail. On a trip where a shocking number of lakes feel like one of the prettiest spots on the planet, these two have burned lasting images in memory.

See my story about that trip, “Best of the Wind River Range: Backpacking to Titcomb Basin” all stories about backpacking in the Wind River Range at The Big Outside.

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A campsite in trees on the beach beside Hance Rapids in the Grand Canyon.
A campsite in trees on the beach beside Hance Rapids in the Grand Canyon.

By the Colorado River at Hance Rapids, Grand Canyon

While I have camped on the beach at Hance Rapids on the Colorado River (it’s on my top 25 best backcountry campsites list), more recently, I backpacked past that beach on a six-day trip that I concluded—after several trips in the Big Ditch—is “the best backpacking trip in the Grand Canyon.” As we left that beach, we walked past a spacious (and empty!) campsite fully enclosed by trees that cast substantial shade.

Anyone who’s hiked in the canyon understands the value of shade—especially in a campsite. We had many miles to go that day, so we didn’t stop. But the beach at Hance Rapids on the Colorado River has long been on my radar (since I took this three-day hike) as a spot to plan spending a night when hiking through this corner of the canyon. This shady site will be the first place I check for occupants the next time I plan to bed down on that beach.

See my story “The Best Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon,” which includes a potential night at Hance Rapids, and all stories about backpacking in the Grand Canyon at The Big Outside.

Get my expert e-books to “The Best Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon,” and a trip easier for first-timers, “The Best First Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon.”

A backpacker hiking past Marie Lake on the John Muir Trail, John Muir Wilderness, High Sierra.
Marco Garofalo backpacking past Marie Lake on the John Muir Trail, John Muir Wilderness, High Sierra.

Marie Lake, John Muir Trail

Marie Lake, John Muir Trail.
Marie Lake, John Muir Trail.

It was the fourth morning of our seven-day thru-hike of the John Muir Trail through California’s High Sierra, from Yosemite National Park to Mount Whitney. Three friends and I were climbing toward Selden Pass in the John Muir Wilderness and not even thinking about taking a break yet; we wouldn’t stop for the night until hours later.

Below us, Marie Lake lay still in a bowl of granite ledges with trees dotting the landscape, rocky islands in the lake, and an infinite selection of places around the lake to temporarily call home.

This was one of the most painful times I’ve hiked past a beautiful backcountry camp.

And in August 2022, I did it again when two companions and I backpacked past Marie Lake—although only after enjoying a nice swim and lunch there—on a nine-day trek of nearly 130 miles through the Ansel Adams and John Muir wildernesses and Kings Canyon National Park.

See my stories “Thru-Hiking the John Muir Trail in 7 Days: Amazing Experience, or Certifiably Insane?” “10 Great John Muir Trail Section Hikes,” and “High Sierra Ramble: 130 Miles On—and Off—the John Muir Trail,” and all stories about backpacking in the High Sierra at The Big Outside.

Want my help planning your JMT thru-hike?

I’ve helped many readers plan all the details of this classic trip, including getting a very hard-to-get permit, figuring out how many days to take, and finding the best campsites. See my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you. 

Score a popular permit using my
10 Tips For Getting a Hard-to-Get National Park Backcountry Permit.”

A backpacker enjoying the dawn light at a campsite by Pyramid Lake in the Wind River Range, Wyoming.
Chip Roser enjoying the dawn light at our campsite by Pyramid Lake in the Wind River Range, Wyoming.

Pyramid Lake, Wind River Range

A backpacker above Pyramid Lake in the Wind River Range, Wyoming.
Chip Roser backpacking above Pyramid Lake in the Wind River Range, Wyoming.

It sure seems like I keep walking past really nice campsites in the Winds—maybe I just need to spend more time there. On an August trip with my son a few summers back, we aborted a planned four-day loop crossing the Continental Divide twice and finishing through the Cirque of the Towers—because the weather was so bad, with almost continuous rain and virtually no views of the mountains and no sign it would improve. But we did hike from one camp to visit Pyramid Lake and saw enough of its surroundings to know I wanted to return.

Now I’m happy to call this a success story because I did get back to this part of the Winds in August 2023, on a four-day, nearly 41-mile hike crossing four high passes, when a friend and I spent our first backcountry night a short walk from the shore of Pyramid Lake. At nearly 10,600 feet, the lake nestles in a rocky basin at the foot of 11,978-foot Pyramid Peak (which we scrambled up on that trip), 12,454-foot Mount Hooker, and 12,185-foot Tower Peak. (The lake is also a short, cross-country hike from the valley of the East Fork River on the Wind River High Route, which I write about in this story about the Wind River High Route).

See my story about that August 2023 trip, “The Best Backpacking Trip in the Wind River Range? Yup” and all stories about backpacking in the Wind River Range at The Big Outside.

Planning a backpacking trip? See “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips
and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”

A waterfall and swimming hole in the Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne River.

Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne River, Yosemite National Park

On day three of a four-day, 87-mile, backpacking trip in the remote, northern reaches of Yosemite with my friend Todd, we reached one of that trek’s scenic highlights: the Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne River. With granite walls soaring hundreds of feet above a crystal-clear river that tumbles over innumerable waterfalls, massive boulders, and a beautiful bed of cobblestones, the canyon bears a striking resemblance to the park’s iconic feature, Yosemite Valley—except that it’s twice as long and has no roads or buildings and few people.

Todd and I actually spent a pleasant night in the Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne, initially sleeping under the stars on a big granite slab by the river, then quickly pitching our tarp in the woods when rain started falling after dark. But we didn’t score one of the several primo campsites we saw in the canyon, either because we walked past them before we were ready to stop for the night, or someone else already occupied them. To grab one of the campsites that sit near any of the waterfalls and great swimming holes, I suggest trying to reach the mid-canyon stretch by early afternoon, before most other backpackers.

See many more images, a video, and trip-planning trips in my story about that backpacking trip in northern Yosemite, “Best of Yosemite: Backpacking Remote Northern Yosemite,” and all of my stories about Yosemite at The Big Outside, including “Best of Yosemite, Part 1: Backpacking South of Tuolumne Meadows,” about a 65-mile hike south of Tuolumne.

Get my expert e-books to backpacking the 65-mile hike south of Tuolumne Meadows
and the 87-mile hike through northern Yosemite (which includes shorter options).

 

Bench Lakes, Sawtooth Wilderness, Idaho.
Bench Lakes, Sawtooth Wilderness, Idaho.

Bench Lakes, Sawtooth Wilderness

As we hiked past the second-highest of a string of five lakes that sit above 8,000 feet on the east side of the Sawtooths, the glassy waters of a calm early morning offered a perfect reflection of the incisor summit ridge of Mount Heyburn high above us. It was early on a long day my friend Chip Roser and I would spend climbing Heyburn, and would ultimately be one of the day’s finest moments. A rough, sometimes-obscure use trail leads to the Bench Lakes from Trail 101 above Redfish Lake. The highest of the Bench Lakes, at over 8,600 feet, is the most alpine of them and has campsites right at the foot of Heyburn.

See all stories about the Sawtooths at The Big Outside, including “The Best of Idaho’s Sawtooths: Backpacking Redfish to Pettit,” “Photo Gallery: Mountain Lakes of Idaho’s Sawtooths,” and “The Best Hikes and Backpacking Trips in Idaho’s Sawtooths.”

I’ve helped many readers plan an unforgettable backpacking trip in the Sawtooths.
Want my help with yours? Find out more here.

Campsite at Toltec Beach on the Royal Arch Loop in the Grand Canyon.
Campsite at Toltec Beach on the Royal Arch Loop in the Grand Canyon.

Toltec Beach, Royal Arch Loop, Grand Canyon

As with the Tetons, there’s not likely a bad campsite in the GC—or at least none that I’ve found. But when three friends and I reached Toltec Beach, beside the Colorado River on the Grand Canyon’s very rugged, 34.5-mile Royal Arch Loop, around lunchtime on our second day, we all made a vow to return there. The river offered an area to cool ourselves in the water, there was a tree casting nice shade onto the sand, and the views, of course, were epic.

The Royal Arch Loop makes a top-to-bottom-and-back-up circuit of the canyon—going from a words-can’t-do-it-justice panorama at the rim to dipping your toes in the Colorado. It delivers a highlights reel of just about every type of physical feature that makes backpacking in the Grand Canyon unique: sweeping views, an intimate side canyon with lush hanging gardens nurtured by a vibrant stream, a high solitude quotient, and one drop-dead gorgeous campsite after another.

See my story about that trip “Not Quite Impassable: Backpacking the Grand Canyon’s Royal Arch Loop,” and all stories about backpacking in the Grand Canyon at The Big Outside


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A hiker passing Snowdrift Lake in Avalanche Canyon, Grand Teton National Park.
David Ports hiking past Snowdrift Lake during a 20-mile dayhike through the Tetons.

Snowdrift Lake, Grand Teton National Park

I’ve had the pleasure of gazing upon the emerald waters of this alpine lake four times now—and I actually did once pitch a tent on a slope above the lake, but never in the site at the lake’s eastern end. A long, oval, often wind-battered gem parked at the head of Avalanche Canyon, just a few hundred feet below 10,680-foot Avalanche Divide and the long cliff band named The Wall, Snowdrift is not reached by any official park trail.

But there is an unofficial, unmarked, rough, and strenuous user trail that climbs up Avalanche Canyon; it branches west off the Valley Trail just north of Taggart Lake. It’s a hard trail to carry a pack up, and not much easier to carry a pack down (and finding the easy, safe way through the cliffs below Snowdrift Lake is trickier going downhill than uphill; I’ve done it in both directions). The easiest access to Snowdrift is hiking the good trail from South Fork Cascade Canyon up to Avalanche Divide, then hiking cross-country, over easy terrain, down to the east end of Snowdrift. The campsite is exposed, so don’t go if it’s windy or in bad weather.

See all of my stories about Grand Teton National Park, including this story that describes how to hike to Snowdrift Lake in Avalanche Canyon.

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the best short backpacking trip there.

A campsite in Phelps Basin, Glacier Peak Wilderness, Washington.
A campsite in Phelps Basin, Glacier Peak Wilderness, Washington. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan this trip.

Phelps Basin and Spider Gap route, Glacier Peak Wilderness

Above Spider Meadow, Glacier Peak Wilderness
Above Spider Meadow, Glacier Peak Wilderness.

On the first afternoon of a spectacular, five-day family hike of the Spider Gap-Buck Creek Pass Loop through Washington’s Glacier Peak Wilderness—among my favorite wild lands—we camped in a spacious, established site in the woods above Spider Meadow and minutes below Phelps Basin. Two other parties had already grabbed the available sites in Phelps Basin (photo above), as I discovered, to my dismay, when we took an evening stroll up there.

The next morning, we carried our packs up the trail to Spider Gap, passing more campers perched on the bench atop a steep wall of earth high above Spider Meadow (photo at right). Whenever I get back there again, it will be exceedingly difficult to choose between these two spots.

See my story, with lots of images, about our five-day, family-backpacking trip in Washington’s Glacier Peak Wilderness.

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Arrowhead Lake, Sawtooth Wilderness, Idaho.

Arrowhead Lake, Sawtooth Wilderness

Since my first of now many trips into Idaho’s Sawtooths, I’ve often marveled at how these toothy, granite peaks remind me of the High Sierra—without the crowds of hikers found in parts of the Sierra. My friend Jeff Wilhelm and I hiked past Arrowhead Lake on the second morning of a four-day trip and immediately agreed we needed to return with fishing poles and stay longer. I snapped this photo when Jeff walked out onto the granite spit jutting into the lake.

See my story about that backpacking in the remote southern Sawtooth Wilderness and my story “The Best Hikes and Backpacking Trips in Idaho’s Sawtooths.”

Which puffy should you buy? See my review of “The 12 Best Down Jackets” and
How You Can Tell How Warm a Down Jacket Is.”

A backpacker in the East Fork River Valley on the Wind River High Route, Wyoming.
Kristian Blaich backpacking up the East Fork River Valley on the Wind River High Route, Wyoming.

The Wind River High Route

Michael Lanza of The Big Outside in the Alpine Lakes Valley on the Wind River High Route.
Me in the Alpine Lakes Valley on the Wind River High Route.

When three friends and I set out on a seven-day, 96-mile traverse of the Wind River High Route—65 miles of which is off-trail, including nine of 10 named alpine passes between roughly 11,000 and 13,000 feet—we expected to be dazzled by one of the very best wilderness treks any of us had ever taken. And it exceeded expectations.

Inevitably, we hiked past many spots we’d love to have set up camp for the night. But two spots, in particular, stood out for me. One was in the valley of the East Fork River, where we hiked below a long chain of towering cliffs and soaked in frigid pools between cascades that tumbled over granite slabs in the shallow river. The second spot was in the long valley of the Alpine Lakes—one of the most starkly beautiful places I’ve ever seen. High above one of those lakes, we crossed a wide, grassy shelf sprinkled with rocks that looked like a little piece of the Scottish Highlands transported to the Wyoming mountains. It pained me to not stop there.

Read my story about that trip, “Adventure and Adversity on the Wind River High Route.”

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Backpackers relaxing in the shaded campsite at Hance Creek in the Grand Canyon.
Relaxing in the shaded campsite at Hance Creek in the Grand Canyon.

Hance Creek, Grand Canyon

This is another success story. The camping area on Hance Creek, on the east side of Horseshoe Mesa, earned a spot on this list when I backpacked past it with my then-10-year-old daughter on this three-day hike. That’s my justification for keeping it on this list—even though I’m happy to report that I’ve since returned and spent a night there (photo above) on a six-day trip that I’ve described as “the best backpacking trip in the Grand Canyon.”

Not to be confused with the beach at Hance Rapids on the Colorado River—which is several trail miles from and a couple thousand feet below the camping area at Hance Creek—the camping zone at Hance Creek is flanked by sheer, vibrantly red walls that by late afternoon cast a long, blessed shadow to give us relief from the sun.

See my story “The Best Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon,” which includes a potential night at Hance Rapids.

Click here now for my expert e-book to the best backpacking trip in the Grand Canyon.

A hiker above Scoop Lake in the Boulder Chain Lakes, White Cloud Mountains, Idaho.
Scott White hiking above Scoop Lake in the Boulder Chain Lakes, White Cloud Mountains, Idaho.

Upper Boulder Chain Lakes, White Cloud Mountains

On a 28-mile, one-day loop hike through the heart of one of the most scenic Western mountain ranges that most hikers have never heard of, Idaho’s White Clouds, two friends and I scrambled off-trail up a very steep headwall, passed through a notch in a row of pinnacles, then picked up a trail and descended into the valley of a string of pearls known as the Boulder Chain Lakes. While we would run into backpackers camped at the lower lakes, we saw no one at three of the highest and most remote of the chain, Headwall Lake, Scoop Lake, and Hummock Lake, perched amid copses of conifers beneath peaks of unbelievably white rock that give these mountains their name.

Read my story about a 28-mile dayhike through Idaho’s White Cloud Mountains, with more photos and trip-planning info.

That White Clouds hike is featured in “Extreme Hiking: America’s Best Hard Dayhikes.”

Whether you’re a beginner or seasoned backpacker, you’ll learn new tricks for making all of your trips go better in my “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” A Practical Guide to Lightweight and Ultralight Backpacking,” and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.” With a paid subscription to The Big Outside, you can read all of those three stories for free; if you don’t have a subscription, you can download the e-book versions of “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” the lightweight and ultralight backpacking guide, and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”

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How to Choose Trekking Poles https://thebigoutsideblog.com/how-to-choose-trekking-poles/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/how-to-choose-trekking-poles/#respond Wed, 02 Apr 2025 09:00:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=38716 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

You want trekking poles for backpacking, dayhiking, running mountain trails, ski touring, or other backcountry activities, but the abundance of models and designs out there can seem overwhelming. Collapsible or folding, ultralight or heavier and sturdier, adjustable or not—which style is best for you? Save yourself a lot of time and the expense of making the wrong choice. This article will explain the key differences between models of trekking poles and how to choose the right poles for your needs.

My tips come from thousands of trail and off-trail miles using every type of pole out there on backpacking trips, dayhikes, mountain climbs and scrambles, ultra-trail runs and dayhikes, and backcountry skiing over more than a quarter-century of testing and reviewing gear, including 10 years as the lead gear reviewer for Backpacker magazine and even longer for this blog.

See my review of “The Best Trekking Poles” and my “10 Best Expert Tips for Hiking With Trekking Poles.”

Like many stories at The Big Outside, part of this story is free for anyone to read, but reading all of it—including tips you may not find from other sources—is an exclusive benefit for readers with a paid subscription to The Big Outside.

Click on any photo below to read about that trip. Share your own tips or questions in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A backpacker on the Redgap Pass Trail in Glacier National Park.
Todd Arndt backpacking the Redgap Pass Trail in Glacier National Park. Click photo to see all my e-books to backpacking in Glacier and other classic parks.

What to Look for in Trekking Poles

Look closely at trekking poles and you will see they are not nearly all the same. In fact, poles differ in many significant ways besides price and weight, including:

• Adjustable or fixed length (not adjustable)
• Adjustability range
• Collapsible or folding
• Collapsed or folded (packed) length
• Features like the length-adjusting mechanism, straps, and grips
• Materials used in the shafts, grips, and straps
• Durability
• Recommended uses

The poles you buy should match the type and style of activities for which you will use them.. Consider these factors when shopping:

Price

• From around $60 to well over $200, trekking poles come in a huge range of prices.
• Price is often driven by materials—you’ll pay extra for lightweight, strong carbon fiber shafts and soft cork grips.

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A hiker at Goat Lake below Thompson Peak, Sawtooth Mountains, Idaho.
My wife, Penny, hiking past Goat Lake, below Thompson Peak, Sawtooth Mountains, Idaho. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.

Weight

• While the weight of poles may not seem to differ much at first glance, it becomes noticeable the more miles you hike with poles in your hands.
• Their weight—as well as packed length—also matter when the poles are attached to your pack at times while hiking.
• Among the models reviewed here, the heaviest are about twice the weight of the lightest.
• Benefits of lighter poles include decreased arm fatigue and often better packability.
• Tradeoffs sometimes, but not always, include a higher price and less durability or strength for hard use and for pitching an ultralight tent using trekking poles.

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Materials

• Hiking poles are generally built with either aluminum or carbon fiber or a combination of both.
• Aluminum is heavier, less expensive, and more prone to bending under heavy pressure but not breaking—so they typically last longer.
• Carbon fiber is lighter and easier to carry, especially on longer days in the backcountry; but also more expensive, and in some ways stronger, but can also snap, although that occurs only in unusual circumstances.
• Heavier poles are generally more durable, especially for hard use; but I’ve had some ultralight poles for years of trail hiking without breaking them.

A backpacker hiking the Tapeats Creek Trail on the Thunder River-Deer Creek Loop in the Grand Canyon.
Chip Roser backpacking the Tapeats Creek Trail on the Thunder River-Deer Creek Loop in the Grand Canyon. Click photo to read all stories about Grand Canyon backpacking trips at The Big Outside.

Collapsible

• Collapsible poles have two or three sections that telescope or collapse together for transport and storage and extend to a range of lengths for use.
• These typically employ a twist- or lever-locking mechanism or retractable, spring-loaded pin to lock the sections in place.
• Note the packed length of these poles: It can vary significantly, which matters when you’re attaching them to the outside of a pack—especially a small pack—or putting them in luggage.

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A backpacker hiking the West Fork Trail above the West Fork Rock Creek toward Sundance Pass in the Beartooth Mountains, Montana.
David Gordon backpacking the West Fork Trail above the West Fork Rock Creek toward Sundance Pass in the Beartooth Mountains, Montana (also shown in lead photo at top of story).

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A backpacker in The Narrows in Zion National Park.
David Gordon backpacking The Narrows in Zion National Park.

Matching Trekking Poles and Users

Type of Trekking PoleRecommended Use
Ultralight, folding polesBest for users who prioritize minimal weight and packability, including lightweight/ultralight backpackers, thru-hikers, dayhikers, and ultra-hikers and runners.
Ultralight, adjustable, collapsible polesBest for backpackers, dayhikers, climbers, and others seeking a balance between reasonable strength, durability, and low weight, and lightweight/ultralight backpackers using tents that pitch with trekking poles.
Lightweight, collapsible polesBest for many backpackers, dayhikers, and climbers who want one versatile pair of poles that balance strength and moderate weight.
Sturdier and heavier, collapsible or folding polesBest for users who prioritize durability and crossover to multiple activities over low weight, including backpackers carrying moderate to heavy loads, dayhikers, backcountry skiers and split-boarders, snowshoers, and anyone climbing mountains and hiking off-trail.

See “The 10 Best Trekking Poles” and “10 Best Expert Tips for Hiking With Trekking Poles,” plus all reviews of backpacking gear, ultralight backpacking gear, and hiking gear at The Big Outside.

Whether you’re a beginner or seasoned backpacker, you’ll learn new tricks for making all of your trips go better in my “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” A Practical Guide to Lightweight and Ultralight Backpacking,” and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.” With a paid subscription to The Big Outside, you can read all of those three stories for free; if you don’t have a subscription, you can download the e-book versions of “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” the lightweight and ultralight backpacking guide, and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”

NOTE: I tested gear for Backpacker Magazine for 20 years. At The Big Outside, I review only what I consider the best outdoor gear and apparel. See categorized menus of all gear reviews and expert buying tips at The Big Outside.

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Expert Tips For Buying the Right Hiking Boots https://thebigoutsideblog.com/pro-tips-for-buying-the-right-boots/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/pro-tips-for-buying-the-right-boots/#comments Mon, 24 Mar 2025 09:00:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=11654 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Boots are the most important piece of hiking or backpacking gear you will buy. You can live with a mediocre pack or a cheap tent (as many of us have), but poorly fitting boots are often a trip killer. Trouble is, boots are also the most difficult piece of gear to get right. (First tip: Don’t settle for a mediocre fit—if they don’t feel good, they aren’t good. That said, feeling good doesn’t necessarily mean they are good.) This article will go beyond the usual boots-buying tips you’ll find at countless sources to help you figure out how to find the right hiking footwear for you.

Thousands of miles of dayhiking, backpacking, trail running, and ultra-hiking, plus field-testing dozens of shoe and boot models of all kinds over a quarter-century of reviewing gear—formerly as the lead gear reviewer for Backpacker magazine for 10 years and even longer running this blog—have refined my sense of how hiking footwear differs subtly in critical characteristics like design, weight, materials, performance, and fit. (I can now usually tell the first time I put on new shoes or boots whether they fit me perfectly and are appropriate for my feet and the kind of hiking or backpacking I’m planning.)


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


Hikers make every kind of bad choice on footwear, from buying too much boot (which can result in blisters and chronic foot or lower-leg injuries) to getting shoes that are not adequately supportive for them (which can also result in—you guessed it—blisters and chronic foot or lower-leg injuries).

Gaining a better understanding of those differences will help ensure you buy the right footwear for your needs—and spend your money smartly.

Please share your questions or thoughts on my advice—or your own boots-buying secrets—in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments. And like many stories at this blog, part of this one is free for anyone to read, but reading all of my tips in this story is an exclusive benefit for paid subscribers to The Big Outside.

Gear up right for your hikes.
See my reviews of the best hiking shoes and boots and the 10 best hiking daypacks.

A backpacker hiking over Clouds Rest in Yosemite National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking over Clouds Rest in Yosemite National Park. Click the photo for my e-book “The Best First Backpacking Trip in Yosemite.”

Types of Hiking Footwear

For the purposes of this article, I’ll divide hiking shoes and boots into three categories by approximate weight (per pair of men’s US size 9/Euro 42), noting that there’s overlap between these categories:

•    Lightweight—Low-cut (below the ankle) shoes or mid-cut (ankle-high) boots weighing roughly two pounds or less per pair;
•    Midweight—Mid-cut or higher boots weighing approximately two to 2.5 pounds per pair;
•    Heavy-duty—Mid-cut or higher boots weighing 2.5 to three pounds or more per pair.

(Purely for simplicity, my reviews divide footwear into two categories: hiking shoes and boots ideal for dayhiking and lightweight backpacking—overlapping the first and second categories above—and backpacking boots—overlapping the second and third categories above.)

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A backpacker on the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park.
David Gordon backpacking the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park. Click the photo to read about this trip.

For many people, midweight boots are a good choice because they serve the needs of a broad cross-section of hikers and backpackers, offering a balance between being fairly light and yet moderately supportive; many are also relatively affordable.

There has also been an evolution in the category of hiking-approach shoes toward designs that make them more breathable and comfortable for hiking many miles—in other words, making them more of a hiking shoe with great traction and support, and thus more versatile for all kinds of hikers. They generally fall into the category of lightweight shoes and boots, and are often the type of low-cut shoe I prefer for dayhiking, especially models that are highly breathable.

Still, choosing the right boots for you comes down to understanding the type of hiker you are and considering the type of hiking you will do most often.

I’ve listed below criteria to help you figure out which type of footwear best suits your needs.

Click here now to plan your next great backpacking adventure using my expert e-books.

Backpackers in upper Titcomb Basin, Wind River Range, Wyoming.
Todd Arndt and Mark Fenton in upper Titcomb Basin, Wind River Range, Wyoming. Click the photo to see the best ultralight backpacks.

Lightweight Shoes and Boots

Get lightweight shoes or boots if you fit any of these descriptions:
•    You are a dayhiker typically carrying a light pack (15 to 20 pounds or less);
•    You’re a fit, avid hiker, climber, ultralight or lightweight backpacker or trail runner and accustomed to hiking in light footwear, especially for hiking long distances daily at a strong pace;
•    You don’t tend to roll or sprain your ankles;
•    Or you’re hiking trails that are well maintained and not too rocky.

If you’re new to dayhiking or backpacking, I’d caution against getting very lightweight boots because your feet may not yet have the strength and resilience that slowly develops when you hike a lot, and inadequately supportive boots can be a fast way to a chronic overuse injury. Start out with a midweight, mid-cut boot with good support and protection for your feet. As you get more experience, you will know better how light a boot your feet can handle—right around the time you wear out your first pair and need new ones.

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A backpacker hiking the Tonto Trail on the Gems Route in the Grand Canyon.
Mark Solon backpacking the Tonto Trail on the Gems Route in the Grand Canyon. Click photo to read about the best backpacking trips in the Grand Canyon.

Midweight Boots

Get midweight boots if you fit any of these descriptions:

•    You’re new to hiking and want a functional, all-around model for dayhiking and/or light backpacking;
•    You’re carrying a light or moderately heavy pack (35 pounds max) on trail;
•    You hike high-mileage days, generally on trails, with a light or moderately heavy pack, and want footwear that’s fairly lightweight and won’t make your feet overheat too badly (which can lead to blisters), yet with more protection and support than lightweight shoes;
•    Or you’re an experienced and fit hiker and backpacker and want footwear that finds a balance between moderate support and weight.

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A backpacker in the rain on the Dusky Track in New Zealand's Fiordland National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking in the rain on the Dusky Track in New Zealand’s Fiordland National Park. Click photo to read about “New Zealand’s hardest hut trek.”

Heavy-duty Boots

Get heavy-duty boots if you fit any of these descriptions:

•    You’re carrying a heavy pack (generally 40 pounds or more) on trails, or a pack weighing 30 to 40 pounds on rugged trails or off-trail, and find that midweight boots don’t offer the support you need;
•    You typically go hiking or backpacking in an environment that’s rugged, very wet, and cool or cold, and may involve some challenging, off-trail hiking;
•    Or if your feet simply need more support and protection than is provided by midweight boots.

Keep your feet happy with my “8 Pro Tips For Avoiding Blisters.”

See all of my reviews of hiking shoes and backpacking boots and my “8 Pro Tips For Avoiding Blisters.”

You live for the outdoors. The Big Outside helps you get out there.
Join now to read ALL stories and get a free e-book!

See also my stories:

5 Expert Tips For Buying the Right Backpacking Pack
5 Expert Tips For Buying a Backpacking Tent
Pro Tips for Buying a Backpacking Sleeping Bag

Whether you’re a beginner or seasoned backpacker, you’ll learn new tricks for making all of your trips go better in my “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” A Practical Guide to Lightweight and Ultralight Backpacking,” and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.” With a paid subscription to The Big Outside, you can read all of those three stories for free; if you don’t have a subscription, you can download the e-book versions of “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” the lightweight and ultralight backpacking guide, and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”

NOTE: I tested gear for Backpacker magazine for 20 years. At The Big Outside, I review only what I consider the best outdoor gear and apparel. See The Big Outside’s Gear Reviews page for categorized menus of gear reviews and expert buying tips.

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Tent Flap With A View: 25 Favorite Backcountry Campsites https://thebigoutsideblog.com/tent-flap-with-a-view-25-favorite-backcountry-campsites/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/tent-flap-with-a-view-25-favorite-backcountry-campsites/#comments Sun, 23 Mar 2025 09:00:52 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=4587 By Michael Lanza

An unforgettable campsite can define a backcountry trip. Sometimes that perfect spot where you spend a night forges the memory that remains the most vivid long after you’ve gone home. A photo of that camp can send recollections of the entire adventure rushing back to you—it does for me. I’ve been very fortunate to have pitched a tent in many great backcountry campsites over more than three decades of backpacking all over the U.S. I’ve distilled the list of my favorite spots down to these 25.

I update this list every year and it becomes a little more difficult almost every time. This year, I’ve added fresh photos from a couple of places I revisited in 2024: Painter Basin in Utah’s High Uintas Wilderness and the Grand Canyon, where I backpacked most of the Gems Route, which includes the most remote stretch of the 95-mile-long Tonto Trail. 

Below my top 25 list you’ll find a second list—now just as long—of campsites that were previously in my top 25. Each campsite photo below includes a short description of that trip, and most have a link to an existing story at The Big Outside.

In some cases, the photos from these places show the view a few steps from our tent, rather than the site itself.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


I share a brief anecdote with each photo because, for me, each campsite isn’t merely a beautiful scene: it is a story and a memory. Because that’s what camping in the wilderness is all about.

I’d love to read your thoughts about any of these places or your suggestions for campsites that belong on my list; I’m always looking for trip ideas. Share them in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

Sweet dreams.

A backpacker at Sahale Glacier Camp in North Cascades National Park.
David Ports at Sahale Glacier Camp in North Cascades National Park.

Sahale Glacier Camp, North Cascades National Park

A backpacker at Sahale Glacier Camp in North Cascades National Park.
David Ports at Sahale Glacier Camp in North Cascades National Park.

We slogged up Sahale Arm into a cold, wind-driven rain, unable to see more than a hundred feet in any direction. But as my friend David Ports and I reached Sahale Glacier Camp (lead photo at top of story), the rain and wind abated and the clouds dropped below us, giving us a view of the earth falling away into a bottomless abyss a few steps from our tent door. A mountain goat strolled past our camp.

Perched at the top of Sahale Arm and the toe of the Sahale Glacier, at 7,686 feet, the highest designated campsite in Washington’s North Cascades National Park overlooks what appears to be a boundless, wind-whipped sea of sharpened peaks smothered in snow and ice, among them Johannesburg, Baker, Shuksan, Glacier Peak, and in the far distance, Mount Rainier.

See my story “Exploring the ‘American Alps:’ The North Cascades” and all stories about backpacking in North Cascades National Park at The Big Outside.

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A campsite by Royal Arch on the Royal Arch Loop in the Grand Canyon.
Our campsite by Royal Arch on the Royal Arch Loop in the Grand Canyon. Click photo to read about that trip.

Beside Royal Arch, Grand Canyon National Park

Royal Arch campsite, Grand Canyon.
Royal Arch campsite, Grand Canyon.

Backpacking the 34.5-mile Royal Arch Loop, the most remote and arguably the most rugged and lonely established South Rim hike in the Big Ditch, three friends and I put in a monster first day to reach the campsite beside Royal Arch—and was it ever worth the effort. We descended Royal Arch Canyon, which involves slow, strenuous, and exposed scrambling in spots—but is also lush with hanging gardens growing along its vibrant creek, which plunges through several crystal-clear pools—until we came into view of the arch, the Grand Canyon’s largest natural bridge (it’s water carved, so technically a bridge, not an arch).

We passed beneath the tall, thick arch (which provided ample shelter during dinnertime rain showers) and walked just beyond it to a flat ledge more than large enough for our two tents, directly beneath a towering sandstone pinnacle. Just steps beyond our ledge loomed a vertical, 200-foot pour-off dropping into the lower section of Royal Arch Canyon—a reminder not to wander far from the tents after dark. Come morning, dawn light would set the red walls of that lower canyon ablaze. For the four of us, all longtime backcountry explorers, this was an all-time best campsite.

See my story “Not Quite Impassable: Backpacking the Grand Canyon’s Royal Arch Loop” with lots of photos, a video, and information on how to pull off this trip, and all stories about Grand Canyon backpacking trips at The Big Outside.

Start planning your next adventure now! See “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips
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Sunrise reflection in a tarn above Helen Lake along the John Muir Trail, Kings Canyon N.P.
Sunrise reflection in a tarn above Helen Lake along the John Muir Trail, Kings Canyon National Park.

Helen Lake, John Muir Trail, Kings Canyon National Park

Dawn at Minaret Lake in the Ansel Adams Wilderness, High Sierra.
Dawn at Minaret Lake in the Ansel Adams Wilderness, High Sierra.

Wind-driven rain and hail pounded us as we backpacked the John Muir Trail through the Evolution Basin on the eighth day of a nine-day, 130-mile hike through the Ansel Adams and John Muir Wildernesses and Kings Canyon National Park in California’s High Sierra, mostly on the JMT. The rain tapered before we crossed 11,955-foot Muir Pass in early evening, but gray-black storm clouds still threatened. A little while later, we pitched our tents on the only tiny patches of rock-free, flat ground we found above Helen Lake, at around 11,600 feet, drawing the curtain on an 18-mile day with over 5,000 feet of uphill and downhill. There have been few days when I’ve walked that far through grander wilderness.

The storm passed, granting us a dry, calm evening. The setting sun cast soft alpenglow upon a peak behind us and burnished the clouds hovering over the western horizon a dark burgundy. But the real payoff came the next morning, when the rising sun ignited the rocky faces of peaks across Helen Lake. The lake and a tiny tarn—more like a big puddle—near our camp offered razor-sharp reflections of our surroundings. Despite the weather that chased us there and our rocky tent sites, Helen Lake burned itself into memory for all three of us as an inspirational spot.

In fact, as always happens when I backpack through the High Sierra, we had a few truly glorious campsites on that August 2022 hike, including at Thousand Island Lake and Minaret Lake. See my story about that trip, “High Sierra Ramble: 130 Miles On—and Off—the John Muir Trail,” and “10 Great John Muir Trail Section Hikes.”

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Morning Star Lake in Glacier National Park.
Morning Star Lake in Glacier National Park.
Dawn light hitting No Name Lake in Glacier National Park, Montana.
Dawn light hitting No Name Lake in Glacier National Park, Montana.

No Name Lake, Glacier National Park

With two of the six camps on my reserved permit closed due to bear activity when two friends and I arrived at Glacier National Park in the second week of September 2023, we had to scramble to create a new permit based on backcountry campground availability—and ended up with an itinerary very similar to a hike I’d done in Glacier five years before (see this story). But in Glacier, there are no consolation prizes, only trails that awe every time you walk them.

We backpacked a seven-day, north-south traverse of the park, mostly combining the primary and alternate routes of the Continental Divide Trail from the Belly River Valley to Two Medicine, hiking through the Ptarmigan Tunnel and finishing with the Dawson Pass Trail’s alpine traverse overlooking the peaks in the park’s remote heart. But unlike last time, we spent our final night at No Name Lake, where a calm morning brought the kind of lake reflection you want to frame for a wall at home (as I did). Another surprise treat on that trip was beautiful evening and morning light at Morning Star Lake—which would have made this list if not for the serendipitous light at No Name.

See my story “Déjà Vu All Over Again: Backpacking in Glacier National Park” and all stories about backpacking in Glacier at The Big Outside.

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The Narrows, Zion National Park

It was one of the most glaring omissions in my resume as a backpacker: I had never hiked The Narrows of the Virgin River in southern Utah’s Zion National Park. (I actually had a permit to do it in October 2013, when Congress shut down the federal government, closing all the national parks and temporarily crushing my hopes of finally ticking off that classic hike.)

Campsite one in The Narrows, Zion National Park.
Campsite one in The Narrows, Zion National Park.

Then an unexpected opportunity arose: I had a window for a four-day trip in early November and saw an unusually good forecast for southern Utah. I broached the idea of backpacking The Narrows to my friend, David Gordon, he leapt at the chance, and we got a last-minute permit for a very popular trip at a time of year when there are far fewer people either competing for a permit or dayhiking from the bottom.

I shot this photo and video of David at our campsite, Narrows no. 1, in early evening; the slot on the left side of the photo is The Narrows—we had emerged from that slot, hiking downstream, just an hour or so earlier.

See my story “Luck of the Draw, Part 2: Backpacking Zion’s Narrows” and all stories about Zion National Park at The Big Outside.

Click here now to get my expert e-book to backpacking Zion’s Narrows.

A backpacker at a campsite along the Teton Crest Trail on Death Canyon Shelf, in Grand Teton National Park.
Watching the sunrise at a campsite on Death Canyon Shelf.

Death Canyon Shelf, Grand Teton National Park

A backpacker at a campsite on the Teton Crest Trail on Death Canyon Shelf, Grand Teton National Park.
A campsite on Death Canyon Shelf, Grand Teton National Park.

I could rattle off a list of gorgeous campsites in Wyoming’s Tetons, a park I’ve visited well over 20 times and never get tired of. But I decided to include just the two camping zones I consider the best places to bed down in the Tetons backcountry and can be reached by trail: Death Canyon Shelf (above and at right) and the North Fork of Cascade Canyon (below).

I’ve camped a few times in different spots on Death Canyon Shelf, a broad, three-mile-long bench at about 9,500 feet. With the earth dropping away abruptly into Death Canyon on one side, cliffs rising some 500 feet on the other side, and views across the jagged peaks and canyons of the Tetons—reaching all the way to the Grand Teton—there are few spots with such sweeping and dramatic panoramas. I’ve watched moose in Death Canyon through binoculars from the cliff tops and deer grazing around our campsite, was awakened one night by a bull elk outside our tent—and have usually caught a spectacular sunset followed by an equally glorious sunrise.

After the Teton Crest Trail, hike the other nine of “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips.”

A backpacker on the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park.
Backpacking the Teton Crest Trail in the North Fork Cascade Canyon.

North Fork of Cascade Canyon, Grand Teton National Park

Watching the sunset from a campsite in the North Fork Cascade Canyon, Grand Teton National Park.
Watching the sunset from a campsite in the North Fork Cascade Canyon, Grand Teton National Park.

On my most-recent backpacking trip on the Teton Crest Trail, in August 2019, three friends and I started up the North Fork of Cascade Canyon on our second afternoon—having already enjoyed two days of a constant stream of breathtaking scenery. Where the trail emerges from forest into boulder-strewn meadows with a first, sweeping view of the canyon, my friend David looked over his shoulder and exclaimed, “Wow!” He was gazing down the canyon at the sheer north face of the Grand Teton rising several thousand feet above us (photo above).

We found a campsite in a copse of pine trees with a ledge that afforded an unimpeded view down the canyon as the setting down turned the Grand golden and then ruby red (photo at left). Getting an early start the next morning, we passed a massive bull moose strolling across a meadow on our way to Lake Solitude—which we had to ourselves at a time of day when its still waters offered a perfect mirror image of the surrounding cliffs and peaks. And the eye candy just kept getting better as we hiked the TCT high up a canyon wall to Paintbrush Divide at 10,700 feet.

See my stories “A Wonderful Obsession: Backpacking the Teton Crest Trail” and “American Classic: Backpacking the Teton Crest Trail,” and my e-book “The Complete Guide to Backpacking the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park.”

I’ve helped many readers plan an unforgettable backpacking trip on the Teton Crest Trail. Visit my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you plan yours.

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A campsite at Precipice Lake in Sequoia National Park.
Our campsite at Precipice Lake in Sequoia National Park.

Precipice Lake, Sequoia National Park

It almost seems unfair to compare other places to the High Sierra, Wyoming’s Teton Range and Wind River Range, Glacier National Park, or the Grand Canyon; those destinations dominate this list in part because I keep returning to them, but I think the photos speak for themselves. On a six-day, family backpacking trip in Sequoia National Park, we camped at two alpine lakes that deserved placement on this list: Precipice Lake and Columbine Lake (see Past Favorite Backcountry Campsites below these 25 favorites).

Precipice wasn’t even part of the planned itinerary; we intended to go beyond it, over Kaweah Gap, to camp in the Nine Lakes Basin. But when we reached Precipice in late afternoon on our third day, we decided within minutes to stop for the night. Cliffs of clean, white granite with black streaks ring much of the compact lake’s shoreline. The mouth of the outlet creek provides an excellent pool for a chilling dip. Granite ledges above the lake have flat areas for tents or to just lay out bags and sleep under the stars (as my 12-year-old son and I did). The evening alpenglow on the cliffs reflected in the lake and on 12,040-foot Eagle Scout Peak towering above Precipice, put the icing on the cake.

See my story “Heavy Lifting: Backpacking Sequoia National Park” and all stories about backpacking in the High Sierra at The Big Outside.

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Backpackers at a campsite in Titcomb Basin, Wind River Range, Wyoming.
Mark Fenton and Todd Arndt at a campsite in Titcomb Basin, Wind River Range, Wyoming.

Titcomb Basin, Wind River Range

The views kept getting better with every mile on the first day of a three-day, 41-mile loop that two friends and I backpacked from the Elkhart Park Trailhead in Wyoming’s Wind River Range in mid-September. But as we entered the long, alpine valley called Titcomb Basin to find a campsite for the night, craning our necks at the cliffs and peaks towering overhead, we immediately realized it was one of the prettiest backcountry spots any of us had ever seen.

A campsite in the South Fork Bull Lake Creek Valley on the Wind River High Route..
Our campsite in the South Fork Bull Lake Creek Valley on the Wind River High Route..

An alpine valley at over 10,500 feet, Titcomb Basin sits below mountains on the Continental Divide that soar more than 3,000 feet above the Titcomb Lakes in the valley, the highest of which is 13,745-foot Fremont Peak. In fact, high peaks flank the valley on three sides like a long, narrow horseshoe. The only easy way in and out is via the trail entering the mouth of the basin. The next day, we hiked an off-trail route over Knapsack Col at about 12,200 feet, at the upper end of Titcomb, descending another trailless alpine valley speckled with wildflowers. 

Every time I return to the Winds, it feels like a reminder that I need to get there more often. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever had a mediocre campsite in the Winds, including the six nights I spent in August 2020 on the 96-mile Wind River High Route.

Read my feature story about that 41-mile hike, “Best of the Wind River Range: Backpacking to Titcomb Basin” and all stories about backpacking in the Wind River Range at The Big Outside.

Which puffy should you buy? See my picks for “The 12 Best Down Jackets
and “How You Can Tell How Warm a Down Jacket Is.”

Alice Lake in Idaho's Sawtooth Mountains.
Alice Lake in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains. Click photo for my e-guide “The Best Backpacking Trip in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains.”

Alice Lake, Sawtooth Wilderness

In the last week of June—not yet summer in the mountains—my son, Nate, and I backpacked with two friends to one of the gems of Idaho’s Sawtooth Wilderness: Alice Lake. While the ground was mostly dry and snow-free in the valleys, we had a frigid ford of a creek running knee-deep and fast with snowmelt, and then encountered up to three feet of snow still on the ground for the last hour or so to Alice Lake, which sits at 8,598 feet below an eye-catching row of granite pinnacles. We found Alice still partly frozen over. But the calm of late afternoon and then the next morning served up a glassy reflection of the snowy peaks beyond that illustrates why this area is a favorite among Sawtooths aficionados.

I’d been to Alice Lake a few times before, as had Nate, on his first wilderness backpacking trip—and one of the first of our annual “Boy Trips”—when he was six years old. In fact, on this recent visit, I recognized and pointed out to Nate the campsite where, seven years earlier, I hurriedly threw up our tent just before a violent thunderstorm rolled in. This time, we just spent one night out there, early enough in the season that we had a chilly night and no mosquitoes. Alice Lake has become popular and is usually overcrowded on summer weekends; plan to be there on a weeknight or pick another spot.

See my stories “The Best of Idaho’s Sawtooths: Backpacking Redfish to Pettit,” “Jewels of the Sawtooths: Backpacking to Alice, Hell Roaring, and Imogene Lakes”  “The Best Hikes and Backpacking Trips in Idaho’s Sawtooths,” and all stories about backpacking in the Sawtooths at this blog, plus my e-book “The Best Backpacking Trip in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains.”

Lastly, don’t miss two more photos from Sawtooths campsites that I’ve had to bump to my list of Past Favorite Backcountry Campsites (see below)—which tells you something about the alpine lakes of the Sawtooth Mountains.

Click here now for my expert e-book to the best backpacking trip in Idaho’s Sawtooths!

A backpacker at a campsite in the Maze District, Canyonlands National Park, Utah.
Jeff Wilhelm at our second camp in the Maze District, Canyonlands National Park.

Below the Chocolate Drops, Maze District, Canyonlands National Park

After an arduous descent with some exposed scrambling off Maze Overlook, on a five-day, roughly 46-mile, early March backpacking trip in the Maze District of southern Utah’s Canyonlands, three friends and I followed occasional cairns down the South Fork of Horse Canyon. After some searching, we located our quarry—a small but clear pool perhaps four inches deep, one of the few springs we would find flowing in The Maze.

Our packs newly laden with many pounds of water, we hiked about a half-mile beyond the spring into the mouth of a canyon traversed by the Maze’s Chimney Route. Turning onto a sandy footpath, we walked up a short, dead-end side canyon and found soft, flat ground for our tents, surrounded on three sides by tall cliffs of desert varnish. Rising above the canyon rim behind our camp, one of the Chocolate Drops—distinctive stone towers, visible for miles in every direction, colored a darker shade of brown than most of the surrounding landscape—seemed to peer down at us curiously.

We spent two nights in that wonderful, secluded campsite, dayhiking a nearly nine-mile loop from it that linked up two thrilling and improbably circuitous routes through the Maze, and marveling at how the simultaneously warm and cool light of March days constantly transformed our campsite’s canyon walls.

See my story about that trip, “Farther Than It Looks—Backpacking the Canyonlands Maze” and all stories about Canyonlands National Park at this blog.

Hike all of the “10 Best Backpacking Trips in the Southwest.”

 

A backpacker at Evolution Lake on the John Muir Trail in Evolution Basin, Kings Canyon National Park.
Marco Garofalo at Evolution Lake on the John Muir Trail in Evolution Basin, Kings Canyon National Park. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan this trip.

Evolution Lake, John Muir Trail, Kings Canyon National Park

The first time I walked up to the shore of Evolution Lake, on my thru-hike of the John Muir Trail, I couldn’t see the lake. Arriving there after dark, we laid out our sleeping pads and bags on granite slabs under the stars and quickly nodded off. Catching our first glimpse of our environs at first light the next morning actually made it more magical, because we got to watch daylight slowly reveal this magnificent alpine valley to us.

A backpacker passing Wanda Lake on the John Muir Trail in Kings Canyon National Park.
Todd Arndt passing Wanda Lake, along the John Muir Trail in the Evolution Basin, Kings Canyon National Park.

The second time I walked up to Evolution Lake, on a nine-day, 130-mile hike through the High Sierra in August 2022, my two companions and I arrived on a beautiful morning—and that’s a place that will make you turn in a circle and gape. At 10,852 feet, surrounded by soaring cliffs that rise to tall peaks on all sides, including the 13,000-footers Mounts Mendel and Darwin and the 12,329-foot Hermit, it’s the lowest lake in the Evolution Basin and has the most protected camping. While we were moving on—commencing one of the JMT’s sections that earn it the nickname “America’s most beautiful trail” (a day that concluded at Helen Lake, described in the writeup above)—part of me wished we were spending the night there. I’ve also felt that way both times I’ve backpacked past Wanda Lake in the upper end of Evolution Basin.

See my stories “Thru-Hiking the John Muir Trail in 7 Days: Amazing Experience, or Certifiably Insane?” “High Sierra Ramble: 130 Miles On—and Off—the John Muir Trail,” and “10 Great John Muir Trail Section Hikes,” and all stories about backpacking the JMT at The Big Outside.

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Elizabeth Lake in Glacier National Park.
Early morning at Elizabeth Lake in Glacier National Park. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan your Glacier trip.

Elizabeth Lake, Glacier National Park

The chilly September air pinched our faces as we took the first steps from our campsite on Elizabeth Lake, on our second morning backpacking the Continental Divide Trail through Glacier. The still, glassy water captured a razor-sharp, upside-down reflection of the jagged mountains flanking it. Then we heard the sound: a high-pitched, nasal whine that built into something like a shriek, the note suspended for several seconds before it was abruptly cut off. It was an elk somewhere in the forest nearby, bugling an invitation to prospective mates.

The campsite at the head of Elizabeth Lake, tucked into the forest just a minute’s walk from the lakeshore beach, not only graced us with that elk bugle, but we also saw our first two bears of the trip while hiking along the lake that morning. While we would hear elk bugling almost every morning and evening on that trip, and more bears as well as mountain goats, bighorn sheep, and moose, Elizabeth Lake awed us with its morning reflection of mountains and set the tone for a consummate Glacier experience that turned into one of my all-time best backpacking trips.

See my story “Wildness All Around You: Backpacking the CDT Through Glacier” about that 94-mile backpacking trip. Click here to get my downloadable e-guide that will tell you everything you need to know to plan and take that trip (including some shorter variations of it), and click here for my e-guide to the best backpacking trip in Glacier.

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Backpackers camped in the backcountry of Wyoming's Wind River Range.
My wife, Penny, at our camp off the Highline Trail in Wyoming’s Wind River Range.

Along the Highline Trail, Wind River Range

Backpacking one of the premier long footpaths in the Winds, the Highline Trail, on a five-day, roughly 43-mile loop from the New Fork/Doubletop Mountain Trailhead at New Fork Lakes, my wife, Penny, our friend, Chip, and I reached an unnamed, small tarn beside the trail late one afternoon and the view stopped us in our tracks. We walked around the tarn and a few hundred feet beyond it to a flat area on a low rise.

We pitched our tents overlooking grassy meadows littered with glacial-erratic boulders that sloped languidly down to the lower of the Twin Lakes. Beyond that lake, the far side of the valley shot upward to a pair of behemoths reaching for the clouds: 12,119-foot Sky Pilot Peak and 12,224-foot Mount Oeneis. Culminating a day when the miles we hiked—10—again exceeded the number of other people we saw, it felt like we’d found an appropriate home for the night.

See “Backpacking Through a Lonely Corner of the Wind River Range” and all stories about backpacking in the Wind River Range at The Big Outside.

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A campsite at Overland Lake on the Ruby Crest Trail, Ruby Mountains, Nevada.
Our campsite at Overland Lake on the Ruby Crest Trail, Ruby Mountains, Nevada.

Overland Lake, Ruby Crest Trail

My family reached Overland Lake in late afternoon on day two of a four-day, approximately 36-mile traverse of the Ruby Crest Trail in Nevada’s Ruby Mountains. Immediately—and literally—the three teenagers (including a friend of our daughter’s) staked out their tents turf on the flat top of rocky ledges just a few steps (but several feet) above the wind-whipped waters of the lake.

Morning light on Overland Lake on the Ruby Crest Trail.
Morning light on Overland Lake on the Ruby Crest Trail.

Although the wind blew all that night—and my wife and I pitched our tent in a more protected spot amid trees about 25 feet behind their tents—we all enjoyed eating and hanging out on that ledge while the evening sun poured alpenglow onto the west-facing peaks and cliffs above Overland Lake.

For several years, I’d been hankering to hike the Ruby Crest and explore a wilderness area that sees relatively few backpackers and dayhikers compared to marquis parks and mountain ranges around the West. We saw wildflowers blooming and incredible terrain, as well as relatively few mosquitoes… or other backpackers. Overland is a logical stop for Ruby Crest Trail backpackers, sitting at the southern end of a 12-mile day that stays high above treeline, with sweeping views.

See my story “Backpacking the Ruby Crest Trail—A Diamond in the Rough.”

I can help you plan any trip you read about at my blog. Find out more here.

A backpacker at a campsite in Painter Basin, with Kings Peak in the distance, High Uintas Wilderness, Utah.
My son, Nate, at our campsite in Painter Basin, with Kings Peak in the upper right background, High Uintas Wilderness, Utah.

Painter Basin, High Uintas Wilderness

On the third afternoon of a six-day, roughly 58-mile loop hike in northeastern Utah’s High Uintas Wilderness, we reached our second 11,000-foot pass of the day—Trail Rider Pass at 11,700 feet—and paused to catch the breath stolen away by both the climb and the view of an imposing row of 13,000-foot peaks, including 13,528-foot summit of Kings Peak, Utah’s highest.

A campsite in Painter Basin below 13,538-foot Kings Peak (right), High Uintas Wilderness, Utah.
Our campsite in Painter Basin below 13,538-foot Kings Peak (right), High Uintas Wilderness, Utah.

Then we descended through switchbacks into an alpine garden of rocks and creeks called Painter Basin, where we pitched our tents at around 11,000 feet in the long shadow of Kings Peak. The sun dipped behind Kings, igniting the tall, billowing clouds that filled the sky in a wide arc overhead—a beautiful evening that foreshadowed a night sky riddled with stars. The next day, we dayhiked some 10 miles and 2,500 vertical feet to the crown of Utah, a fun and scenic day.

I returned to Painter Basin in early October 2024 (going on short notice with an unusually good weather window) with my son on the first night of a four-day, roughly 60-mile traverse mostly on the Uinta Highline Trail—and Painter graced us with lovely dawn light on those big peaks. Much of both trips occurred between 10,000 and 12,000 feet and delivered a considerable degree of solitude and beauty.

See my stories “Backpacking—and Sandbagging—Utah’s Uinta Highline Trail” and “Tall and Lonely: Backpacking Utah’s High Uintas Wilderness” and all stories that feature the High Uintas Wilderness at The Big Outside.

Get a full wilderness experience.
See “12 Expert Tips For Finding Solitude When Backpacking.”

Johns Hopkins Inlet, Glacier Bay National Park.
Johns Hopkins Inlet, Glacier Bay National Park.

Johns Hopkins Inlet, Glacier Bay National Park

For one of the trips for my book about taking our kids on wilderness adventures in national parks facing threats from climate change, we took a five-day sea kayaking trip in southeast Alaska’s Glacier Bay, where cliffs shoot straight up out of the sea and razor peaks smothered in ice and snow rise thousands of feet overhead. We watched bald eagles and other birds flying overhead, harbor seals popping up out of the water near our boats, Stellar sea lions honking and carrying on while sprawled on the rocks of South Marble Island, and brown bears roaming rocky beaches looking for food.

We spent two nights at this campsite near the mouth of Johns Hopkins Inlet. From there, we kayaked up the inlet to within about a quarter-mile of the mile-wide snout of the Johns Hopkins Glacier; a thousand or more seals occupied floating icebergs or swam around the inlet. Throughout the evenings and mornings in camp, we listened to that massive glacier calve another bus-size chunk of itself into the sea every 20 or 30 minutes, with an explosive sound the native Tlingits called “white thunder.”

See my story “Back to the Ice Age: Sea Kayaking Glacier Bay.”


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A campsite at night by the Colorado River at Hance Rapids in the Grand Canyon.
Our campsite at night by the Colorado River at Hance Rapids in the Grand Canyon.

Beside Hance Rapids, Colorado River, Grand Canyon National Park

The first day of a three-day backpacking trip in the Grand Canyon with my 10-year-old daughter, Alex, and two other families was a tough one: descending nearly 5,000 vertical feet in 6.5 miles on the rugged New Hance Trail. By the time we reached our campsites beside the Colorado River, everyone was whipped. But sometimes it takes a hard day of hiking to reach a magical spot, and this lonely corner on the floor of the Big Ditch is a pretty good place to rest tired legs.

Backpackers at a campsite in Ruby Canyon, along the Gems Route in the Grand Canyon.
Dawn light above our campsite in Ruby Canyon, along the Gems Route in the Grand Canyon.

Our front porch offered a view of redrock cliffs just across the river. The gravelly drone of Hance Rapids drowned out all other noise. Night fell like a black curtain to reveal a sky riddled with far more bullet holes than all the road signs in Arizona combined (and these holes glowed). Morning brought a sharp chill to the air—it was November—and the slow, patient unfolding of dawn light descending (kind of like very tired backpackers) from the South Rim a vertical mile above us to the mid-canyon geologic layers and, finally, bathing our campsite in warmth. We left there completely rejuvenated.

See my story “A Matter of Perspective: A Father-Daughter Hike in the Grand Canyon” for more images, a video, and tips on planning this trip, and all stories about Grand Canyon backpacking trips at The Big Outside . See also my story “The Best Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon,” about a trip where the beach at Hance Rapids is a potential campsite, and get my expert e-book also titled “The Best Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon” to find out all you need to know to plan and pull off that amazing multi-day hike.

So many spots where I’ve camped in the Grand Canyon would make most people’s list of best camps ever. But I’d be remiss to not mention that every one of our camps for five nights on the GC’s Gems Route—the most remote section of the Tonto Trail and one of the canyon’s most remote trips—featured breathtaking views and a shocking amount of solitude. See my story “Let’s Talk Water: Backpacking the Grand Canyon’s Gems.”

Get my expert e-books to “The Best First Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon
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A backpacker enjoying the dawn light at a campsite by Pyramid Lake in the Wind River Range, Wyoming.
Chip Roser enjoying the dawn light at our campsite by Pyramid Lake in the Wind River Range, Wyoming.

Pyramid Lake, Wind River Range

After several multi-day hikes all over the Winds, I’ve gotten to know those mountains well and slept in so many beautiful spots that it’s hard to select just a few among them for this story. But after hiking to Pyramid Lake once before, I fulfilled my vow then to return, pitching my tent there on the first night of a four-day loop from Big Sandy in August 2023.

A backpackers' campsite near Arrowhead Lake in the Cirque of the Towers, Wind River Range.
Our campsite near Arrowhead Lake in the Cirque of the Towers, Wind River Range.

A friend and I camped in a meadow an appropriate distance from the lakeshore, where we enjoyed a sunset that set clouds aglow and a dawn that made the peaks surrounding the lake appear to glow. That proved to be a portentous start to our 41-mile hike, which crossed four high passes, featured camps near gorgeous lakes each night—Washakie and Arrowhead followed Pyramid—and delivered the kind of solitude one can find in the Winds when you’re prepared to work for it.

I’m willing to go out on a limb and call it the best multi-day hike in the Winds.

See my story “The Best Backpacking Trip in the Wind River Range? Yup” and all stories about backpacking in the Wind River Range at The Big Outside.

Do you love backcountry lakes?
Check out these photos of the most gorgeous wilderness lakes I’ve ever seen.

 

Sunset over Thousand Island Lake along the John Muir Trail in the Ansel Adams Wilderness, High Sierra.
Sunset over Thousand Island Lake along the John Muir Trail in the Ansel Adams Wilderness, High Sierra.

Thousand Island Lake, John Muir Trail, Ansel Adams Wilderness

Few backcountry campsites launch a backpacking trip as beautifully as the first evening my two adventure partners and I spent on a nine-day, 130-mile hike through the Ansel Adams and John Muir Wildernesses and Kings Canyon National Park, mostly on the John Muir Trail. From our camp above the shore of Thousand Island Lake (shown in lead photo at top of story), we watched a sunset that blazed furiously, igniting tiers of billowing clouds drifting past in what seemed like an endless light show with multiple, unexpected encores.

As has happened, I think, every time I’ve backpacked through the High Sierra, that adventure granted us the gift of more than a few really nice camps, including Helen Lake (above) and Minaret Lake. John Muir dubbed the High Sierra the “Range of Light” and the moniker has stuck because of the way those mountains seem to cling tightly to and refuse to release the abundant sunlight they receive. Stir a fast-moving cloudscape into a sunset like we had at Thousand Island Lake and you get a scene to remember forever.

See my story about that trip, “High Sierra Ramble: 130 Miles On—and Off—the John Muir Trail,” “10 Great John Muir Trail Section Hikes,” and all stories about backpacking in the High Sierra at The Big Outside.

Score a popular permit using my
10 Tips For Getting a Hard-to-Get National Park Backcountry Permit.”

A campsite on the Dome Glacier in the Glacier Peak Wilderness.
Our campsite on the Dome Glacier in the Glacier Peak Wilderness.

Dome Glacier, Ptarmigan Traverse, Glacier Peak Wilderness

The first four nights of camping on the Ptarmigan Traverse in Washington’s North Cascades are in the alpine zone with 360-degree views of some of the most severely vertiginous and heavily glaciated and snow-covered peaks in the Lower 48. With clear skies, any of those camps might among the most memorable you’ve ever had. But besides White Rock Lakes (scroll down to the list of Past Favorite Backcountry Campsites, below), my other favorite campsite on the Ptarmigan was on the Dome Glacier, base camp for our climb of Dome Peak. Throughout a clear evening, with a sea of clouds filling the valleys below us, we looked south to the white pyramid of the volcano Glacier Peak, glowing above the clouds in the dusk light.

Climbers traditionally begin the Ptarmigan Traverse at Cascade Pass in North Cascades National Park and walk south, largely hewing close to the Cascade Crest. Beyond Dome Peak, from the Cub Lake area in the Glacier Peak Wilderness, the route descends to the Downey Creek Trailhead on Suiattle River Road. The route is mostly off-trail and crosses six glaciers; expert skills at glacier travel and navigating off-trail through mountains are required. See an excellent route description at summitpost.org/ptarmigan-traverse/154644.

Find the right tent for you. See “The 10 Best Backpacking Tents
and “5 Expert Tips For Buying a Backpacking Tent.”

High camp at 12,000 feet below California's Mount Whitney.
High camp at 12,000 feet below California’s Mount Whitney.

Below the East Face of Mount Whitney

In frigid blasts of wind raking the snow-covered mountainside in April, our party crested a steep slope to find ourselves facing one of the most-photographed and unforgettable mountain vistas in America: the East Face of California’s 14,505-foot Mount Whitney, highest peak in the Lower 48. On a flat pan of snow at 12,000 feet below that jagged skyline, we pitched our high camp, from which we made a successful ascent of Whitney’s Mountaineers Route the next day.

Spending two clear, starry nights in that camp, we saw the East Face in the varying light of all times of day, from dawn to sunset, dusk to dark. When I mentioned to one of our climbing partners that Whitney’s East Face was the only place I’ve seen that conjures mental images of the peaks of Torres del Paine National Park in Chilean Patagonia, this man—who’s also been to Patagonia—told me that he’d been thinking the same thing.

See my story about that trip, “Roof of the High Sierra: A Father-Son Climb of California’s Mount Whitney.”

A backpacker at Toleak Point on the coast of Olympic National Park.
A backpacker at Toleak Point on the coast of Olympic National Park.

Toleak Point, Olympic National Park

On my family’s second day of backpacking the southern Olympic coast, we had already marveled at a massive boulder in the intertidal zone on the beach that was wallpapered with hundreds of mussels, sea anemones, and vividly orange or purple starfish. We had also climbed down an 80-foot cliff on a rope ladder that was missing several rungs at its bottom.

Late that afternoon, we found a spot for our tents on the beach at Toleak Point, where dozens of the rock pinnacles called sea stacks rise out of the ocean just offshore. As the kids played in a tide pool, a sea otter emerged from the pool’s other end and flopped across the beach to plunge into the ocean. A seal cavorted in the waves near us. When I went to explore the sea stacks exposed at low tide, a great blue heron lifted off of one and soared away over the beach like a winged dinosaur. Another of the trips my family took for my book, this three-day hike on Washington’s Olympic coast is still remembered by our kids, as well as my wife and me, as one of our all-time favorite trips.

See my story “The Wildest Shore: Backpacking the Southern Olympic Coast,” with more photos, a video, and my tips on how to pull off this trip.

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Lake Ellen Wilson, Glacier National Park.
Lake Ellen Wilson, Glacier National Park.

Lake Ellen Wilson, Glacier National Park

Our weeklong backpacking trip had featured too many wildlife sightings to count—including bighorn sheep and numerous mountain goats, not to mention that we had an impending date with a sow grizzly bear and her two cubs. The scenery blew us away every day. I would have forgiven Lake Ellen Wilson, our final night’s campsite, for being anticlimactic.

But upon arriving there, we soaked tired feet in the lake’s cold, emerald-colored waters, a 20-second walk from our campsite, gazing around at a basin ringed by thousand-foot cliffs with several waterfalls pouring off of them. Then we laid down on the sun-warmed pebbles on the beach, which felt like a heated bed with built-in massage. For my friend Jerry Hapgood and me, dropping off into an afternoon nap on them was the default setting. It turned out to be our best campsite of the trip.

See my story “Descending the Food Chain: Backpacking Glacier National Park’s Northern Loop,” about backpacking my modified and expanded version of Glacier National Park’s Northern Loop, with more photos, for information on how to pull off this trip, and all stories about backpacking in Glacier at The Big Outside.

Get my expert e-books to the best backpacking trip in Glacier
and backpacking the Continental Divide Trail through Glacier.

Big Spring camp in Paria Canyon.
Big Spring camp in Paria Canyon.

Big Spring, Paria Canyon, Vermilion Cliffs National Monument

I’d known that Paria Canyon could hold some surprises. But our two-family party found a little more adventure than we’d anticipated—which became evident when the other dad in our group, Vince, plunged hip-deep into quicksand on our first afternoon. But he managed, with considerable effort, to extricate himself; and by the next day, the kids had figured out how to identify shallow quicksand that they could stomp around in, howling with laughter. (Before the trip was over, Vince’s wife, Cat, and I would also take a quicksand dip.) We hiked for five days, mostly in the cold but usually ankle-deep Paria River, through a canyon that ranged from narrow with sheer walls to a big, open chasm between distant cliffs. While every campsite was really nice, the one at Big Spring (above), on our second night, took first prize.

Paria, which straddles the Utah-Arizona border and enters the Colorado River at Lees Ferry (where we finished our hike), at the beginning of the Grand Canyon, is unquestionably one of the great, multi-day canyon hikes of the Southwest—partly explaining why it’s so difficult to snag a permit to backpack it. But the permit system also preserves an unusual degree of solitude and a unique wilderness experience: We saw very few other people over five days, and spent much of that time on our own. (The BLM allows 20 people to start backpacking the Paria daily; we grabbed nine spots.)

See my story “The Quicksand Chronicles: Backpacking Paria Canyon,” with my tips on how to plan this trip.

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Past Favorite Backcountry Campsites

As I visit new places, I occasionally add new campsites to the list above, and have to remove some great spots from the list (to keep it to 25, a somewhat random but sensible number). But bumping a site from my list doesn’t diminish its attraction, of course. So I will keep those former favorites in the list below, to give you even more ideas and goals for future adventures.

A campsite at Upper Lyman Lakes, Glacier Peak Wilderness, Washington.
Our campsite at Upper Lyman Lakes, Glacier Peak Wilderness, Washington.

Upper Lyman Lakes, Glacier Peak Wilderness

On the second day of a five-day, 44-mile family hike through Washington’s Glacier Peak Wilderness, we ascended a long finger of snow and crossed the pass that represents the crux of this trip in terms of technical difficulty, Spider Gap, at 7,100 feet. From there, we descended snow into the head of a valley sculpted and scoured by ice just a geologic moment ago, the Upper Lyman Lakes basin.

The Lyman Glacier poured down the cliffs of 8,459-foot Chiwawa Mountain into the vividly emerald waters of the uppermost lake. Barren, snow-speckled peaks and cliffs ringed the valley on three sides. A creek leapt from the lake’s far shore, crashing over stones and a small waterfall, below which some of us took a frigid and very brief bath. Wildflowers sprung hopefully from the few, shallow patches of soil. We pitched our tents on a grassy knoll near a copse of conifer trees, with an unobstructed view of that entire basin. And we spent most of the evening watching the shifting light across the mountains until sunset lit the clouds afire, watching a pair of bucks and a few doe wander through our campsites, and, well, swatting mosquitoes. (It was late July in the North Cascades, after all.)

See my story “Wild Heart of the Glacier Peak Wilderness: Backpacking the Spider Gap-Buck Creek Pass Loop.”

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Benson Lake in Yosemite National Park.

Benson Lake, Yosemite National Park

At dusk on the second day of a four-day, 86-mile backpacking tour of northern Yosemite—the park’s biggest swath of wilderness—my friend Todd Arndt and I strolled up to perhaps the most unlikely sight deep in the mountains: a sprawling, sandy beach that looks like it got lost on its way to Southern California. After hiking almost 23 miles that day, the trip’s longest, wiggling our toes in the cool sand and standing in the icy lake water in our bare feet reduced us to cooing babies.

A longtime backcountry ranger in Yosemite had told me that I’d find the park’s best backcountry beach at Benson Lake—but I never would have imagined such a vast expanse of fine sand deep in the mountains. It was one of many surprisingly gorgeous backcountry secrets I discovered over seven days of backpacking 151 miles through Yosemite’s most remote corners.

See my story “Best of Yosemite: Backpacking Remote Northern Yosemite,” and my story about the three-day, 65-mile first leg of that weeklong odyssey, “Best of Yosemite: Backpacking South of Tuolumne Meadows.”

Yearning to backpack in Yosemite? See my e-guides to three amazing multi-day hikes there.

A campsite at Tanner Beach in the Grand Canyon.
Our campsite at Tanner Beach in the Grand Canyon.

Tanner Beach, Grand Canyon National Park

A longtime backcountry ranger who has hiked every named trail in the Grand Canyon wrote an email to me recommending that I try a route off the South Rim—only a section of which I’d hiked before—that he described as “the best backpacking trip in the Grand Canyon.” Given the source of that endorsement, how could I not do it? So two friends and I backpacked a six-day, 74-mile, point-to-point traverse that took us down to campsites on the Colorado River and, of course, back up to the rim.

That hike showed us many diverse personalities of the canyon, from one of its most scenic and popular trails, the South Kaibab, to one of its most remote and primitive paths, the Escalante Route. We experienced some of the highest levels of solitude I’ve ever had on Grand Canyon trails—hiking for hours without encountering another person, and having little company at three of our four campsites. But we also spent a fun evening at a campsite with a very friendly rafting party that graciously fed us well.

And our last campsite, shaded by a rock ledge at Tanner Beach, turned out to be the best camp on the best backpacking trip in the Grand Canyon. I think you’ll see why when you read my story about that beautiful hike—titled, appropriately, “The Best Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon.” Click here now for my e-book of the same title, which will tell you everything you need to know to plan and execute that trip.

See all stories about Grand Canyon backpacking trips at The Big Outside and my e-book to “The Best First Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon.”

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A backpacker hiking above Columbine Lake in Sequoia National Park.
My wife, Penny, backpacking above Columbine Lake in Sequoia National Park.

Columbine Lake, Sequoia National Park

Whichever direction you approach this lake from, you will pay for the privilege of a night here with significant toil. Filling a stone basin at nearly 11,000 feet, below the distinctive spire of Sawtooth Peak and an arc of snaggle-toothed mountains, Columbine is reached either via a 600-foot hump up through dozens of switchbacks from Lost Canyon; or a much harder 1,200-foot scramble, sans maintained trail, up a steep mountainside of sliding scree from Monarch Lakes to 11,630-foot Sawtooth Gap, where a primitive but better path leads down to Columbine. (We took the former and descended from Sawtooth Gap to Monarch Lakes—and were glad we did not carry backpacks up that route.)

Once there, though, your effort is (mostly) forgotten. We explored the granite ledges on the northshore of the lake, where crevices and small bowls in the granite hold tinypockets of water and you sometimes have to scramble on all fours over short, vertical walls. Alpenglow painted the peaks a salmon hue in the evening–of course—and sunrise cast an unbelievable pallet of orange, yellow, and reds onto a curlicue sculpture of clouds hovering just above one jagged ridge nearby. While not easy on the legs, Columbine Lake is very easy on the eyes.

See my story “Heavy Lifting: Backpacking Sequoia National Park” about this six-day backpacking trip, which included Precipice and Columbine lakes, with many more photos, a video, and information for planning this trip yourself. As of 2021, Sequoia National Park prohibits camping within 100 feet of Columbine’s lakeshore, to help protect the lake from use impacts.

Middle Fork Rapid Transit rafts on Idaho's Middle Fork Salmon River.
Our rafts parked at Whitie Cox camp on Idaho’s Middle Fork Salmon River.

Whitie Cox Camp, Middle Fork Salmon River, ID

Boy, it’s hard to pick one campsite that outdoes all others on the Middle Fork of the Salmon—they’re all pretty darn nice, often on large beaches in a canyon flanked by cliffs and mountainsides of pine forest, rocky crags, and golden grasses rising to summits 3,000 feet overhead. But for me, one stands out, and my family has, just by coincidence, camped there on both of our six-day rafting and kayaking trips down the Middle Fork.

In July 2019, on our second Middle Fork trip, joined by 20 good friends that included families with teens and young adults, we once again spent our second of five nights on the river at Whitie Cox camp. Just above a sweeping bend in the river, the camp has views up and down the canyon and a sprawling beach where the group sat in a large circle of folding chairs and talked and laughed for hours. After dark, some of us laid out our pads and bags on the sand and slept under the stars to the sound of the river softly murmuring past. In early morning, several of us hiked nearly a thousand feet up a ridge to an amazing vista up and down the canyon.

The Middle Fork, deep in central Idaho’s sprawling, 2.4-million-acre Frank Church-River of No Return Wilderness, is rightly known as one of the great multi-day, wilderness river trips in America—if not the greatest—for its mix of breathtaking scenery, frequent rapids up to class III and IV, numerous hiking opportunities, hot springs, world-class trout fishing… and beautiful campsites.

See my story about that most-recent trip on Idaho’s Middle Fork Salmon River, and my story about my family’s first trip down the Middle Fork when our kids were four years younger.

See also my story about my involvement helping to create a new long-distance trail through the vast wilderness areas of central Idaho, which includes the Middle Fork Salmon River Trail, “America’s Newest Long Trail: The Idaho Wilderness Trail.”

Camp Schurman on Mount Rainier.
Camp Schurman on Mount Rainier.

Camp Schurman, Mount Rainier National Park

Camp Schurman sits at 9,460 feet, on the very tip of Steamboat Prow, a cleaver of busted volcanic rock and dust. Two massive glaciers, the Emmons and Winthrop, part around this stone prow in a way that illustrates how frozen water behaves much the same as its liquid form. More than four square miles of moving ice, thousands of years old, and stretching over nearly 9,000 feet of elevation, the Emmons is the largest glacier in the Lower 48; the Winthrop isn’t much smaller. When two friends and I set off to climb the Emmons in early August a few years ago, with much of the snow melted off the glaciers, they displayed heavy scarring: huge, frighteningly beautiful crevasses as plentiful as waves on a storm-tossed ocean.

A two-foot-high, oval, stone wall shielded our tentsite from the irrepressible, bone-chilling wind. Standing outside our tent, I was struck by the mind-boggling scale of Mt. Rainier. Looking up at the mountain, I couldn’t fit it all within my peripheral vision. And yet, I knew I was looking at a tiny fraction of Rainier—which made me feel both very small and very fortunate for just being there.

Getting There From White River Campground at 4,400 feet, five miles past the White River ranger station (get a climbing permit there), hike the Glacier Basin Trail 3.2 miles to Glacier Basin Camp, at 6,000 feet. Follow a climbers’ trail up into the basin, reaching the Inter Glacier (good training ground for new climbers) at around 6,800 feet. Climb to Curtis Camp on the ridge north of Mt. Ruth, then descend off the ridge onto the Emmons Glacier and continue to Camp Schurman at 9,460 feet.

Map/Guidebook Trails Illustrated Mt. Rainier no. 217, $11.95, (800) 962-1643, natgeomaps.com. Mt. Rainier—A Climbing Guide, by Mike Gauthier, $18.95, mountaineersbooks.org.

Contact Mt. Rainier National Park, nps.gov/mora.

Granite Park, John Muir Wilderness.
Granite Park, John Muir Wilderness.

Granite Park, John Muir Wilderness

On the second night of a three-day, 32-mile, partly cross-country traverse of the John Muir Wilderness from North Lake Trailhead to Mosquito Flat Trailhead in the High Sierra, we pitched our tents in Granite Park, an aptly named high valley speckled with scores of alpine lakes and tarns and encircled by an arc of 12,000- and 13,000-foot spires of barren, golden stone. In the evening, the sinking sun painted the peaks, lakes, and granitic landscape in a shifting, vivid light that was absolutely captivating. We couldn’t tear our eyes from the light show that went on for a few hours. When the last alpenglow faded away, night brought a sky riddled with stars.

In the morning, we set out early and I got the above shot of my friend Jason Kauffman passing a lake minutes from our campsite.

See my story and more photos about backpacking a 32-mile, partly off-trail traverse in the John Muir Wilderness for information on how to pull off this trip.

On a hike above "Kid Rock" campsite, Stillwater Canyon, Green River, Canyonlands.
On a hike above “Kid Rock” campsite, Stillwater Canyon, Green River, Canyonlands.

“Kid Rock” campsite, Green River, Canyonlands National Park

We made up the name for this campsite; it doesn’t have a name that I’m aware of, though it is an established and large campsite on the Green River in Stillwater Canyon, seven miles above the confluence with the Colorado River. We gave it that name because, minutes after we landed, the eight kids in our five-family crew—ranging in age from four to 12—immediately planted their figurative flag on this boulder at the edge of the campsite and christened it “Kid Rock.” We all now remember that site by the name the kids gave that boulder.

Really, there are many special campsites along this lazy stretch of the Green, which passes through a canyon of soaring redrock cliffs and spires. But besides being spacious and scenic, this one sits at the bottom of a trail that climbs about three miles uphill to White Crack, one of the most spectacular campgrounds on the White Rim.

See my story about floating for five days down the Green River through Stillwater Canyon in Canyonlands National Park, with more photos and a video, for information on how to pull off this trip.

Rock Slide Lake in Idaho's southern Sawtooth Mountains.
Rock Slide Lake in the remote interior of Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains.

Rock Slide Lake, Sawtooth Mountains

Having lived in Idaho since 1998, I have explored much of the state’s best-known mountain range, the Sawtooths. But it took me 13 years to finally backpack into the deep interior of the southern Sawtooths, an area speckled with mountain lakes that lies a solid two days’ hike from the nearest roads in any direction.

So when my friend Jeff Wilhelm and I carved out four glorious September days to finally explore this area, we found deep, clear lakes filled with lunker trout, ringed by jagged peaks, and trails that don’t receive many boot prints. Walking through the bright, airy forest there, filled with granite outcroppings, reminded me of the High Sierra—without all the people. We used Rock Slide Lake as a base camp for two nights to give us a day to explore with daypacks, and spent hours on its shore, marveling at the dawn and sunset light there.

See my story about a four-day, 57-mile in the southern Sawtooth Wilderness for more photos and information for planning this trip.

Compromise Camp on the Green River in Whirlpool Canyon, Dinosaur National Monument.

Green River, Dinosaur National Monument

Long shadows leaned over the steadily sliding river as we pulled into our first campsite on a four-day rafting trip on the Green River in Dinosaur National Monument, which straddles the Utah-Colorado border. From the floor of Lodore Canyon, we gazed up at burgundy cliffs soaring a thousand feet overhead. One friend said to me, “This is probably the nicest campsite I’ve ever seen.” But what was truly amazing was that the second night’s campsite was better than our first—and the third night’s site was even more breathtaking than the first two. For that reason—and because many campsites on the banks of the Green in Dinosaur are equally beautiful—I’m simply lumping all of them together for this list.

See my story about that trip, “Why Conservation Matters: Rafting the Green River’s Gates of Lodore.”

Coyote Natural Bridge, Coyote Gulch.
Coyote Natural Bridge, Coyote Gulch.

Coyote Natural Bridge, Coyote Gulch, Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument, UT

My memory of my wife’s and my first backpacking trip in Coyote Gulch 16 years earlier was cloudy when we returned recently with our 12- and 10-year-old kids and another family. Sometimes revisiting a place doesn’t measure up to a fond recollection of it; not so with Coyote Gulch, in southern Utah’s Escalante River canyons. It was more scenic even than I remembered. Soaring, red rock walls tower along its length. A steady creek pours over several short waterfalls, its year-round flow keeping the canyon bottom lushly green. And then there are features like Jacob Hamblin Arch and Coyote Natural Bridge.

My plan had been for us to spend our second night at one of the campsites below Jacob Hamblin; but the team was a little too pooped by the time we reached Coyote Natural Bridge to push on more than an hour farther. It turned out to be serendipitous, because we had the sandy beach area around the bridge to ourselves (whereas the campsites at Hamblin are popular). The kids played for hours in the creek and some adults took an evening hike while the others laid down on the warm sand with a book.

See my story about backpacking Coyote Gulch (and hiking slot canyons in the Escalante and at Bryce Canyon and Capitol Reef national parks), with more photos and a video, for information on how to pull off this trip.

Tiger Key, Ten Thousand Islands, Everglades National Park.
Tiger Key, Everglades.

Tiger Key, Everglades National Park, FL

Songbirds chattered and flitted among the trees along the shore. Cormorants and brown pelicans skimmed the water’s surface. Egrets glided overhead. In one secluded cove in Tiger Key, an outermost island of the Ten Thousand Islands in Florida’s Everglades, we sat in our canoes and watched 10 brilliantly pink roseate spoonbills perched in a tree, watching us. In a small bay, we sat rapt while a dolphin swam wide circles around our canoe for about 20 minutes. Every evening, we stood in the warm beach sand watching the blazing red orb of the sun slowly sink into the Gulf of Mexico.

Another of the trips I took my family on for my book, paddling the Everglades was one of the most magical for all of us—for the scenery, the exotic birds, and the unique experience of having a wilderness beach all to ourselves.

See my story about kayaking the East River and canoeing and wilderness camping in the Ten Thousand Islands of Everglades National Park, with more photos and a video, for information on how to pull off this trip.

White Rock Lakes, Ptarmigan Traverse, Glacier Peak Wilderness.
White Rock Lakes, Ptarmigan Traverse, Glacier Peak Wilderness.

White Rock Lakes, Ptarmigan Traverse, Glacier Peak Wilderness

It was the third day of our six-day trip on arguably America’s premier mountain haute route. A multi-day walk along a high mountain crest, the Ptarmigan Traverse crosses six glaciers and stays high above treeline until the fifth day. We camped by lonely alpine lakes—one of which was still completely frozen and snow-covered in mid-August—below jagged summits in possibly the most vertiginous mountains in the country.

My climbing partners Stefan Kinnestrand and Wes Cooper and I ascended two of those glaciers, the LeConte and the South Cascade, in whiteout conditions on that third day, navigating by GPS while watching very carefully for crevasses. Then we scrambled from another pass down a precarious slope of loose rock so steep that a slip might have concluded with a tumble of several hundred feet right to the bottom. Most of the ground surrounding the White Rock Lakes remained snow-covered that August day, and the lakes were still almost completely frozen. When the fog finally lifted, we got a view across the deep valley of the West Fork of Agnes Creek to the Dana Glacier and Chikamin Glacier pouring off a ridge connecting several rocky peaks and spires. I’ll eventually post a story and more photos from the Ptarmigan Traverse.

Getting There Climbers traditionally begin the Ptarmigan Traverse at Cascade Pass in North Cascades National Park and walk south, largely hewing close to the Cascade Crest. Beyond Dome Peak, from the Cub Lake area in the Glacier Peak Wilderness, the route descends to the Downey Creek Trailhead on Suiattle River Road. The route is mostly off-trail and crosses six glaciers; expert skills at glacier travel and navigating off-trail through mountains are required. See an excellent route description at summitpost.org/ptarmigan-traverse/154644.

Spring Canyon, Capitol Reef National Park.
Spring Canyon, Capitol Reef National Park.

Spring Canyon, Capitol Reef National Park

Southern Utah’s Capitol Reef has scenery to match its siblings in the National Park System—but when it comes to crowds, this place ain’t no Zion or Yosemite. In the visitor center at the outset of a three-day, family backpacking trip, a ranger told me that we were the only party getting a permit to backpack into Spring Canyon that day.

We hiked below towering, burgundy cliffs with patches of white and orange and black water-stain streaks, passing enormous boulders piled up below the cliffs. More than four hours after setting out from the Chimney Rock Trailhead, we pitched the tent on a grassy bench in Spring Canyon, beneath cliffs topped by domes and spires soaring hundreds of feet overhead. Staying there for two nights, with a day of exploring in between, we saw no other people. If that kind of solitude is rare in the backcountry of many national parks, it’s especially unusual in a spot reached with relatively little effort.

See my story about dayhiking, slot canyoneering, and backpacking in Capitol Reef National Park, with more photos and a video, for information on how to pull off this trip.

Lagunas Chevallay, Dientes Circuit, Patagonia.
Lagunas Chevallay, Dientes Circuit, Patagonia.

Lagunas Chevallay, Dientes Circuit, Chilean Patagonia

The 35-mile Dientes Circuit through the Dientes de Navarino (“Teeth of Navarino”) on Isla Navarino (Navarino Island), at the southern tip of South America, is chock full of ends-of-the-Earth moments and beautiful campsites. With my friend Jeff Wilhelm and 22-year-old Puerto Williams-based trekking guide Maurice van de Maele, I hiked for four days through a wild, wind-battered landscape of incisor-like rock towers and alpine lakes that gets visited by just a handful of people every year.

About halfway through the trip, the Antarctic wind blew us through Paso Ventarron (Ventarron Pass) as the late-day light pierced clouds above the Lagunas Chevallay. We descended the rocky trail to camp beside the large, unnamed lake shown at the head of the valley in the photo above.

See my story about trekking the Dientes Circuit, with more photos, for information on how to pull off this trip.

East Fork Owyhee River.
East Fork Owyhee River.

East Fork Owyhee River

Guiding our kayaks between tight canyon walls on Deep Creek, we didn’t see the confluence until we practically fell into it, the swift waters spitting us out into a deeper, wider channel: southwest Idaho’s East Fork Owyhee River. The four of us immediately landed and dragged our boats up onto a spacious beach on river right, tired and wet. I felt chilled in my wetsuit from a day that had seen us spend eight hours or more paddling through rain, snow, hail, and wind.

Perhaps a football field’s distance downriver, the East Fork made a sharp left turn and plunged into unseen quarters between sheer rhyolite walls. As evening descended, those cliffs became a study in contrasting light—some in dark shadow, some edged with sunlight, and the white rock of the farthest one glowing as if lit by some internal power source. Though just one of many scenes of staggering natural beauty from an eight-day, 82-mile adventure on the upper Owyhee River system, from Deep Creek to Three Forks, that one has stuck with me.

See my story about kayaking the upper Owyhee River, with more photos, for information on how to pull off this trip.

Little Frazier Lake in Oregon's Eagle Cap Wilderness.
Little Frazier Lake in Oregon’s Eagle Cap Wilderness.

Little Frazier Lake, Eagle Cap Wilderness

Sometimes the destinations closest to home are the ones you neglect for too long. That was the case for my family with northeastern Oregon’s Eagle Cap Wilderness, just a half-day’s drive for us, but a place we had not yet backpacked in (with the exception of one disastrous attempt, when our son was a toddler, that was aborted due to a nasty stomach virus. But I have skied the backcountry of Norway Basin in the Eagle Cap with friends.) So last summer, we finally took a five-day, 41-mile loop in the southeastern corner of this 350,000-acre wilderness.

We hiked up broad, U-shaped valleys and camped by boisterous streams and lakes that offered mirror reflections of dawn light and alpenglow on rocky, 9,000-foot peaks. I made the side hike up 9,572-foot Eagle Cap for its 360-degree panorama overlooking much of the range; the kids played in streams and had the treat of one of the most spectacular thunderstorms of their lives on our second afternoon. Our third campsite, at Little Frazier Lake, sat near the lake’s outlet creek, where my son worked for hours rearranging rocks; my daughter and I scrambled high up some nearby ledges. And in the morning, the lake offered up a perfect reflection of the stone basin cradling it. I will eventually post a story, with more photos, about this trip.

See my story about this five-day, family backpacking trip in the Eagle Cap, including more photos and a video, for information on planning this trip.

A backpackers' campsite in an unnamed canyon on the Beehive Traverse in Capitol Reef National Park.
Our campsite in an unnamed canyon on the Beehive Traverse in Capitol Reef National Park.

Unnamed Canyon, Beehive Traverse, Capitol Reef National Park

An hour into a three-day, cross-country traverse of the Waterpocket Fold formation in Capitol Reef, my friend David Gordon and I had already taken our first wrong turn, seen a bighorn sheep, and I’d dislodged a boulder that nearly crushed David. (We were off-route.) The incidents were omens for the days to follow, navigating our way through a maze of canyons, cliffs, domes, and towers, where it was not unusual to spend 20 minutes or more hemmed in by seemingly impassable cliffs before finding the narrow ledge or the break in the wall of rock that indicated the direction of our route.

My friend, local guide Steve Howe, spent many seasons working out this cross-country hike, which begins at Grand Wash and zigzags south a very circuitous 17 miles to Capitol Gorge. He calls it the Beehive Traverse, for the type of sandstone towers encountered along the way. He shared a map and GPS data with David and me to let us attempt it ourselves; very few people have hiked the route before us, and most of them were guided by Steve. On our second night, we camped in this unnamed canyon below flying buttresses of golden sandstone.

See my story, with lots of photos and a video, about backpacking the Beehive Traverse in Capitol Reef.

Great Sand Dunes National Park.
Great Sand Dunes National Park.

On the Dunes, Great Sand Dunes National Park

Not long into our first day backpacking across the massive sand dunes of this park—which tower several hundred feet tall—I was already convinced that carrying a pack loaded with food and gear for three days as well as two gallons of water up giant dunes was not a brilliant plan. Our group of editors from Backpacker Magazine marched a few miles over the rolling, sometimes steep dunes until we found a relatively flat spot to pitch our tents. Then the magic show began.

It was November, and the light of late afternoon and early evening transformed the shifting, mountainous dunes into three-dimensional works of abstract art. I wandered a wide perimeter around our camp in the evening and early morning, shooting photos of frost on multi-colored dunes that often came to a peak as sharp as on the roof of a house. At times, sand avalanching downhill under our boots made an eerie sound, a phenomenon known as “singing.” I decided the dunes more than made up for the effort expended getting there.

See my story, with more photos, about backpacking at Colorado’s Great Sand Dunes for information on how to pull off this trip.

A young boy fishing at Lake 8522, Sawtooth Mountains, Idaho.
My son, Nate, fishing at Lake 8522, Sawtooth Mountains, Idaho.

Lake 8522, Sawtooth Wilderness, ID

We backpacked the Alpine Creek Trail in Idaho’s Sawtooths less than three miles up a sunbaked valley flanked by cliffs to where it ends abruptly in ponderosa pine forest. A steep headwall loomed above us, 500 vertical feet or taller, capped by rocky ledges—a daunting obstacle that would logically turn away most hikers. But I had been told that the basin of unnamed lakes just beyond the pass at the top of this earthen wall was worth the effort of reaching it. So my son, Nate, almost 11 at the time, and I, joined by his buddy, another Nate, and that kid’s dad, Doug Shinneman, clawed and high-stepped our way up a faint, very steep user trail, grabbing branches and slipping in mud, and scrambling up exposed ledges.

At the top, we saw that I’d gotten good advice. A cool forest embraces one side of the blue-green waters of Lake 8522; a granite cliff juts straight out of the water on the other side. We found a spot in the woods for our tents and spent the next couple of days fishing, exploring the higher lakes in the basin, and taking in some sunrises and sunsets that kept my camera busy.

Getting There From ID 75, about 20 miles south of Stanley and 40 miles north of Ketchum, turn west onto Alturas Lake Road and follow it about seven miles to its end at the Alpine Creek Trailhead. Hike the Alpine Creek Trail roughly 2.5 miles to where the maintained trail terminates. Follow a faint, very steep and rough user trail that climbs almost straight uphill several hundred feet, with some scrambling, to a pass that leads into a lakes basin. Lake 8522 is a short walk beyond the pass. This area has some user trails and established campsites, but is not managed like official trails; minimize your impact.

Map Earthwalk Press “Sawtooth Wilderness,” $9.95, (800) 742-2677, omnimap.com.

Contact Sawtooth National Forest Stanley Ranger District, (208) 774-3000, fs.usda.gov/sawtooth.

Hall Arm, Doubtful Sound, Fiordlands National Park, New Zealand.
Hall Arm, Doubtful Sound, Fiordlands National Park, New Zealand.

Doubtful Sound, Fiordland National Park, New Zealand

It was a typical summer day in Doubtful Sound: alternating spells of light mist and steady rain punctuating brief periods without precipitation. The shifting gray overcast delivered about 10 minutes of sunshine the entire day. But the air was warm and the water flat, its dark surface as clear as a just-cleaned mirror. Tendrils of ghost-like clouds floated around granite cliffs that rose straight out of the sea up to 4,000 feet high; and the cliffs wore long coats of thick rainforest that seemed to defy gravity.

Our small group pitched our tents behind a rocky beach, in the forest of podocarp trees and punga tree ferns. After a mild night of periodic showers, we woke and walked to the beach to see the water still and glassy, reflecting the sea cliffs and misty clouds.

See my story about sea kayaking Doubtful Sound, with more photos and a video, for information on how to pull off this trip.

Tonto Trail, Grand Canyon.
Tonto Trail, Grand Canyon.

Tonto Trail, Grand Canyon National Park

If there’s a bad campsite in the Grand Canyon, I haven’t found it yet. But my favorite (so far) is this spot just off the Tonto Trail, on the plateau between Lonetree Canyon and Cremation Creek. We camped here on the last night of a four-day, late-March family backpacking trip from Grandview Point to the South Kaibab Trailhead (another trip my family took for a chapter of my book).

While we were exposed to the wind—which can blow pretty hard—and had to carry water to that camp, those were small tithes for a 360-degree panorama reaching from the South Rim to the North Rim, with countless named temples and buttes within view, most prominently the Zoroaster Temple (visible in the background of the photo above). While the kids played with rocks in the dirt and my wife read, I walked around with my camera, finding an amazing background in every direction.

See my story, with more photos, about backpacking in the Grand Canyon for information on how to pull off this trip.

Indian Basin, Wind River Range.
Indian Basin, Wind River Range.

Indian Basin, Wind River Range

Six friends, 500 pounds of gear and food for a week, one horsepacker to haul our stuff the 15 miles from the trailhead to Indian Basin—and plenty of alcohol, which figures prominently in this adventure tale. We had grand ambitions for several rock and snow climbs of peaks along the Continental Divide that week. We didn’t plan on daily, cold morning showers or the violent afternoon thunderstorms that would dump a couple inches of hail in 30 minutes and threaten to blow our tents to Iowa.

Though we never tied into a rope all week, we did tag a few walk-and-scramble-up summits, including 13,745-foot Fremont Peak in cold wind and fog, and 13,517-foot Jackson Peak. Mostly, though, we huddled in all of our clothes under a tarp in camp, plowing through our alcohol supply and laughing uproariously over things I barely recall. I got the above shot during one of the rare moments of glorious sunshine that made us optimistic about climbing—until the next storm cell drove us back into our tents.

Getting There The Elkhart Park trailhead is 14.5 miles from Pinedale. From US 191 (Pine Street), in Pinedale, turn north onto Fremont Lake/Half Moon Lake Road. In three miles, bear right on Skyline Drive. A short distance beyond a viewpoint overlooking the high peaks, bear right at a fork to parking for the Pole Creek Trail. Follow the Pole Creek, Seneca Lake, Highline (for just a quarter-mile), and Indian Basin trails about 15 miles to Indian Basin.

Map Earthwalk Press “North Wind River Range,” $9.95, omnimap.com.

Contact Bridger National Forest Pinedale Ranger District, (307) 739-5500, fs.usda.gov/btnf.

Dog Lake, Seven Devils Mountains.
Dog Lake, Seven Devils Mountains.

Dog Lake, Seven Devils Mountains

A fresh September snowfall had just blanketed the Seven Devils, which rise to over 9,000 feet and form the east rim of Hells Canyon in west-central Idaho. My friend Geoff Sears and I started our three-day hike in thick fog, at first catching only glimpses of the craggy peaks.

But the weather slowly cleared through the afternoon, as we leapfrogged surviving segments of a long-abandoned, faint trail leading to Dog Lake, where we put our tent up in a small basin that rarely sees human visitors. That evening and the next morning, under blue skies with no wind, the lake offered up a sharp reflection of the snow-plastered cliffs of black rock.

See my story about another backpacking trip in Hells Canyon.

Getting There From US 95, a mile south of Riggins, Idaho, turn west onto Squaw Creek Road (CR 517). Drive 16.5 miles to Windy Saddle Trailhead, a half-mile before Seven Devils Campground. Hike south on Boise Trail 101 for 7.4 miles. Just after crossing Dog Creek, turn west and look for traces of the faint trail leading about 1.3 miles to Dog Lake; you’ll be mostly bushwhacking through semi-open forest with some blowdowns obstructing the way.

Map The Hells Canyon National Recreation Area map, Hells Canyon NRA website (below).

Contact Hells Canyon National Recreation Area, Riggins ranger district, (208) 628-3916, fs.usda.gov/detail/wallowa-whitman/recreation/?cid=stelprdb5238987.

Above our campsite on Mount Baker.
Above our campsite on Mount Baker.

Mount Baker, WA

It was a wretched campsite, actually. We’d had no intention of staying there, but weather left us without a better choice than to endure an interminable night on that cold ground of sharp stones. The wind-tortured, 9,000-foot saddle separating the Coleman and Deming glaciers on Mount Baker in Washington’s North Cascades was simply where we ended up when Plan A—camping on the summit—crashed in the sea of ambitious dreams. My wife, Penny, and I were climbing our first Pacific Northwest volcano years ago with our friend Larry Gies, through thick fog that reduced visibility to less than 100 feet at times. By late afternoon, we gave up on reaching the summit, pinned our tents to the ground, and dove inside.

But two hours later, a mountain fairy granted us one of those rare, magical events that occur when least expected: Sunshine lit our tents. We stepped outside to see the cloud ceiling below us. We tagged the mountaintop as the setting sun strafed that sea of clouds with red and orange light. You can’t distinguish our tents in the photo above, but they’re in the saddle below us—that miserable, serendipitous spot.

Getting There From I-5 north of Bellingham, follow WA 542 for 33.8 miles. One mile past Glacier, turn right onto Glacier Creek FS Road 39, and continue eight miles to parking for Mt. Baker (Heliotrope Ridge) Trail 677. The trail ends after two miles, at 4,800 feet; continue on the climbers’ trail up the Hogsback to a tenting area at 6,000 feet on the edge of the Coleman Glacier.

Map Green Trails Mt. Baker no. 13, greentrailsmaps.com.

Contact Mt. Baker-Snoqualmie National Forest outdoor recreation information, fs.usda.gov/mbs.

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5 Expert Tips For Buying a Rain Jacket For Hiking https://thebigoutsideblog.com/5-pro-tips-for-buying-the-right-rain-jacket-for-the-backcountry/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/5-pro-tips-for-buying-the-right-rain-jacket-for-the-backcountry/#comments Wed, 19 Mar 2025 09:00:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=22704 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Choosing a waterproof-breathable rain shell for hiking, backpacking, climbing, or other outdoor activities can seem daunting. Prices range from under $100 to over $500, and weights from less than half a pound to over a pound. Some are loaded with features, others so minimalist they may seem like just a step above a trash bag with arm holes. You’ll also find the full gamut of opinions on them from reviewers and consumers.

Here’s what I’ve learned from testing dozens of rain shells while hiking and backpacking through soaking rains all over the world over a quarter-century of testing and reviewing gear, formerly as the lead gear reviewer for Backpacker magazine for 10 years and even longer running this blog: The right backcountry rain shell for you depends more on you than on any jacket—and our needs as backcountry users vary as much as our budgets.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


Many hikers, backpackers, climbers, and others buy a rain jacket based on price, brand, the recommendation of a trusted reviewer, experienced advisor, or friend, or the consensus of several consumer reviews. That’s not a bad strategy, and it’s sometimes successful. But it’s really an incomplete strategy. As with almost any consumer product, buying a rain shell you will be satisfied with comes down to considering how and where you will use it and understanding the subtle differences between them.

Follow these tips and I think you will find the perfect rain jacket for your adventures. Please share your own tips or questions in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

Ready to buy? See “The Best Rain Jackets For Hiking and Backpacking
and “The Best Ultralight Hiking and Running Jackets.”

Jeff WIlhelm (behind) and me in the Bailey Range, Olympic National Park.

No. 1 Decide What It’s For

This is the logical first step when buying any consumer product, but one nonetheless often overlooked with backcountry apparel. Ask yourself: How much of a rain jacket do I really need?

If you generally head out in warm, dry weather—common in many Western mountain ranges in summer—you may only need a less-expensive shell, or you might be better off with an ultralight rain jacket (which vary in price). On the other hand, if you routinely find yourself in sustained rain and widely ranging temperatures, especially on multi-day trips, you’ll be happier—not to mention more comfortable and safer—with a shell that delivers reliable protection from rain and wind as well as good or exceptional breathability (more on that below).

In short: Choosing the right jacket is, first and foremost, a question of how much time you expect to spend wearing it versus carrying it in your pack just in case of rain, as well as consideration of how extreme the weather could get.

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A hiker trekking New Zealand's Routeburn Track.
My wife, Penny, trekking New Zealand’s Routeburn Track on a rainy day. The lead photo at the top of this story is from New Zealand’s Dusky Track.

No. 2 What Does the Rain Jacket Weigh?

Weight matters, especially if you’re into ultra-hiking or ultralight backpacking, but for everyone else, too. Today, there’s no reason a three-season shell should weigh more than a pound, period. Jackets heavier than that are usually too bulky, taking up excessive space in your pack, and too warm when wearing them while on the move, causing you to overheat—resulting in you either getting soaked inside the jacket (negating its purpose) or shedding it completely. In fact, even most fully technical rain shells designed for use in any season now weigh under a pound. Jackets heavier than that are designed for winter or casual wear.

Still, don’t assume that the lightest shell is the best choice for your needs. Weight is just one important factor.

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A backpacker hiking below a rainbow in Wyoming's Wind River Range.
Mark Fenton backpacking through a rainstorm in Wyoming’s Wind River Range.

No. 3 Speak the Language

To make an informed choice in rainwear, it helps to know some common terminology:

NOTE: I tested gear for Backpacker magazine for 20 years. At The Big Outside, I review only what I consider the best outdoor gear and apparel. See The Big Outside’s Gear Reviews page for categorized menus of gear reviews and expert buying tips.

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5 Questions to Ask Before Trying That New Outdoors Adventure https://thebigoutsideblog.com/are-you-ready-for-that-new-outdoors-adventure-5-questions-to-ask-yourself/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/are-you-ready-for-that-new-outdoors-adventure-5-questions-to-ask-yourself/#comments Tue, 18 Mar 2025 09:00:22 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=5900 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

We shuffled silently up the Grand Canyon’s South Kaibab Trail in the last hour of a 42-mile, over 21,000-foot, one-day rim-to-rim-to-rim run across the canyon and back. Following the beams of our headlamps—night had fallen a few hours earlier—exhausted but knowing we had the gas to reach the South Rim, my friends Pam, Marla, and I trudged upward in the darkness, heads down.

Suddenly, we stopped in our tracks, startled by the unexpected sight of a young couple sitting beside the trail in the dark. Shining my headlamp on the two of them, who had not yet said a word, I asked, “Are you okay? Don’t you have headlamps?”

The guy tapped the tiny light on his forehead, which I hadn’t noticed, and replied, “It died a couple hours ago.”


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


“Do you want to walk between us in our light beams?” I asked. They nodded and rose shakily to their feet. As we continued slowly uphill—the two of them clearly physically spent, the woman stopping to sit beside the trail repeatedly in the last mile or so before we reached the trailhead, where our ride was waiting—I got their story from the guy.

A hiker on the upper South Kaibab Trail, Grand Canyon.
David Ports hiking the South Kaibab Trail, Grand Canyon.

They had arrived at the park that morning and sought a walk-in permit to backpack overnight but none was available. So around mid-morning, they decided to dayhike down the Bright Angel Trail to the Colorado River and return up the South Kaibab—a 16.5-mile hike with over 9,000 feet of cumulative elevation gain and loss that park management warns hikers against attempting.

While people like Pam, Marla, and I obviously choose to disregard the park’s official warnings against attempting ultra-runs and hikes in the canyon, we trained for it and came prepared to finish. This couple had undertaken a hike for which they didn’t have the fitness, proper gear, or enough food and water, starting it far too late, which exposed them to the day’s wilting heat. And if they had made it to the South Kaibab Trailhead on their own—and I’m not sure they would have—they’d have gotten there hours after the last park shuttle bus departed and found themselves stranded miles from their vehicle, without enough clothes for the cool, windy night. We gave them a ride to their car.

There’s an old saying that “good experience comes from bad experiences.” We learn through mistakes—hopefully. I’ve learned over four decades of backpacking and dayhiking, including 10 years I spent as a field editor for Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog, that the key to keeping everyone safe—whether it’s a blend of adults and kids, experts and beginners, or even a small party of very fit and experienced people—is to avoid putting ourselves in very unfamiliar situations where mistakes become large, with severe consequences.

To fall back on another old pearl of wisdom: “Don’t bite off more than you can chew.”

Read “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”

A backpacker crossing Eliot Creek on the Timberline Trail around Oregon's Mount Hood.
Jeff Wilhelm crossing Eliot Creek on the Timberline Trail around Oregon’s Mount Hood. Click photo to read “How to Safely Cross a Stream When Hiking or Backpacking.”

We make ourselves safer outdoors through acquiring new skills and experience, and that necessitates trying new things. It’s also fun and rewarding to pursue new challenges. Don’t be afraid to do that. Just remember that the outdoors can be unforgiving.

Whether you are new to hiking, an experienced backpacker looking to visit a new environment (the desert, Alaska, maybe a developing country like Nepal), trying a new activity like kayaking, climbing, or backcountry skiing, or a parent thinking about taking her family on an adventure that will be new for them in some way, consider the five questions below when deciding whether you are ready for some new adventure.

Most of all: Make conservative decisions. The small regret of abandoning some exciting plans, or postponing until another time, is far preferable to the very large regret of making a decision that goes badly awry.

Please share your thoughts, tips, and questions in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

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A backpacker descending a rope ladder at the north end of the Goodman Creek overland trail on the southern coast of Olympic National Park.
My wife, Penny, descending a rope ladder at the north end of the Goodman Creek overland trail on the southern coast of Olympic National Park.

1. Have You Done Anything Like This Before?

Is the activity itself, the difficulty level, the environment you will enter, the season and weather conditions you expect, the remoteness, or another factor new to you? Is there anything about the situation you will enter that is unfamiliar?

If so, do your homework. Learn all you can in advance about that activity or that destination. Ask yourself honestly whether your experience base prepares you for any and all new circumstances you will likely face on this trip. Mitigate your risk level by increasing the challenge, difficulty, and degree of unfamiliarity in small increments, or recruiting companions (or a guide) who have the skills and familiarity you lack.

An example: When I wanted to take my family (our kids were age nine and seven) sea kayaking in Glacier Bay, Alaska, my wife and I decided to take a guided trip—even though I was told that beginners often rent kayaks and guide themselves there—because we’d never been there and didn’t know how difficult it would be to navigate or deal with tides, finding campsites, etc. Since that trip, I would now feel comfortable repeating it with a group of families or adults who are ready for it. But I still believe we made the right decision in hiring a guide the first time.

Plan your next great backpacking trip in Yosemite, Grand Teton,
and other parks using my expert e-books.

2. Do You Understand Everything That Can Go Wrong?

Young boy and man in a slot canyon in Capitol Reef National Park.
My son, Nate, and guide Steve Howe in a slot canyon in Capitol Reef National Park.

What could happen and what are the consequences?

People fall off ledges and cliffs, get swept away by fast-moving water, get hit by rockfall, and suffer frostbite or worse in severe cold not because they’re stupid, but because they did not understand the hazards of the environment they were in. That may be the most common reason behind accidents in the backcountry, and those incidents usually involve people just out for a hike.

If you’re new to an environment, talk to someone who’s more experienced to learn what the hazards are. If you are taking less-experienced adults or kids out, don’t assume they know everything that you have learned over the years: Explain to them about the hazards that they need to be aware of.

On any trip I take, I want to know not just how to do everything right—I also want to know everything that can go wrong.

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A backpacker descending a short cliff on the Grand Canyon's Royal Arch Loop.
Kris Wagner descending a short cliff while backpacking the Grand Canyon’s Royal Arch Loop.

3. Is Everyone In Your Group Good With the Plan?

In almost any group, a classic dynamic can easily develop in which the most-experienced person makes the plans and decisions and everyone else follows like sheep, trusting the leader without fully comprehending what they’re getting into. That can be a formula for trouble, for a couple of reasons: The leader is human and capable of flawed judgment; and someone highly experienced who perceives an activity as relatively “easy” may not always appreciate the skill, fitness, and mental-comfort level of everyone else.

As a de facto leader in a group, even of friends or in a family, always talk about your plans with everyone to get their buy-in; at the least, that will be far preferable to hearing everyone grouse later if the trip does not go as they had expected. As a beginner or anyone following a more-experienced person, make sure you understand and are comfortable with the plan. Most of all, don’t hesitate to ask questions or object to anything you are not comfortable with.

I can help you plan the best backpacking, hiking, or family adventure of your life.
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A backpacker hiking below a rainbow in Wyoming's Wind River Range.
Mark Fenton backpacking through a rainstorm in Wyoming’s Wind River Range.

4. Are You All Prepared For Every Possible Scenario?

“Every possible scenario” does not necessarily mean that you have to carry clothing for a snowstorm when the forecast promises summer-like weather, just because snow has fallen in those mountains at that time of year sometime in the past. But “every possible scenario” does include having clothing to handle weather somewhat worse than predicted. It includes everyone being ready physically if you discover that the trail is rougher (and slower) than expected. It includes knowing in advance whether a creek crossing may be too high to be safe for everyone in the party.

Your group will only do as well as the least-able and least-prepared member. So make sure everyone is prepared for whatever you’re doing.

Get the right shell for you. See “The Best Rain Jackets For Hiking and Backpacking
and “The Best Ultralight Hiking and Backpacking Jackets.”

Two teenage girls hiking 13,528-foot Kings Peak in Utah's High Uintas Wilderness.
My daughter, Alex, and friend Adele Davis hiking 13,528-foot Kings Peak in Utah’s High Uintas Wilderness.

5. What’s Your Backup Plan?

There are a couple of reasons for having at least one backup or bailout plan and agreeing on it with everyone. First of all, it makes you safer by preparing you to respond to problems that arise.

Secondly—and arguably most importantly—it inserts into everyone’s thinking process that Plan A may not unfold as expected and you may choose to abandon it. Too often, accidents result from people continuing to blindly follow their original plan, despite the warning signs, simply because they are focused on getting through it—their brains are simply not considering alternatives.

When things go wrong, stress and chaos can make it very difficult to think clearly. Knowing in advance what you’ll do in that event will help you choose the smart course.

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Training For a Big Hike or Mountain Climb https://thebigoutsideblog.com/training-for-a-big-hike-or-mountain-climb/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/training-for-a-big-hike-or-mountain-climb/#comments Sat, 15 Mar 2025 09:00:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=18016 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

When three friends and I decided to attempt to thru-hike the John Muir Trail—221 miles through California’s High Sierra, with numerous mountain passes ranging from 11,000 to over 13,000 feet in elevation—in just one week (backpackers traditionally take two to three weeks), the plan seemed like a wild dream. Hike 31 miles a day for seven straight days through some of the biggest mountains in the Lower 48? It was an agenda for lunatics. So we started training. Seriously training.

Although it would prove to be one of the physically hardest things any of us had ever done—and one of the most rewarding—three of us made it, and the fourth member of our team was fit enough to finish, but had to bail out because of severe blisters. (Read my story about that crazy adventure.)

Since then, with a small group of very fit and experienced friends, I’ve hiked very long days from Glacier National Park and the Grand Canyon (including a couple of one-day, 42-mile and 22,000-foot, rim-to-rim-to-rim hikes) to the White Mountains, the Tetons and Wind River Range, and a 50-mile dayhike across Zion National Park. And I’ve climbed numerous peaks via technical and non-technical routes, including the Mountaineers Route on 14,505-foot Mount Whitney in California’s Sequoia National Park with my 15-year-old son, who was also motivated to train hard for that.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A backpacker on the John Muir Trail hiking toward Silver Pass in the John Muir Wilderness.
Mark Fenton backpacking the John Muir Trail toward Silver Pass in the John Muir Wilderness.

If you’re planning to climb a big mountain or take a challenging backpacking trip or long dayhike, you may be wondering how to train properly for it—especially if, like many people, you don’t live in a place with easy access to the mountains and don’t have the freedom to spend endless hours training on trails.

I’ve developed the training regimen described in this article over nearly four decades of avid dayhiking, trail running, ultra-hiking and -running, backpacking, climbing, all forms of skiing, and other activities—including many years doing it professionally as a past Northwest Editor of Backpacker magazine and more than 10 years running this blog.

So for regular people with normal lives who aspire to occasionally elevate life, here’s an everyman’s (and woman’s) guide to getting yourself physically ready for the hikes, runs, and mountains of your dreams. Please share your comments, questions, or tips in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

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A hiker on the Grand Canyon's North Kaibab Trail.
David Ports hiking the Grand Canyon’s North Kaibab Trail on a rim-to-rim dayhike. Click photo for my e-book “The Complete Guide to Hiking the Grand Canyon Rim to Rim.”

Start Early

Start training at least three months before your climb or hike, ideally from a good base of fitness developed through maintaining some level of regular exercise program year-round, which helps you get where you want to be more quickly and enjoyably and avoid injury. If you haven’t been exercising regularly, start training four to six months before your big climb or hike and gradually increase your workout durations and intensity—don’t start from zero going too hard or you’ll risk injury or just discouraging yourself.

Google any of the exercises mentioned in this article and you’ll find instructional videos.

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A hiker on Bondcliff, on the Pemi Loop in New Hampshire's White Mountains.
Mark Fenton on Bondcliff, on a 32-mile, 10,000-foot dayhike of the Pemi Loop in New Hampshire’s White Mountains.

Core and Balance Exercises

Core fitness in your abdominal and back muscles creates a foundation of strength, endurance, balance, and stability—all critical to accomplishing a big climb or hike, as well as to any outdoor or athletic activity. A strong core helps your body carry a pack over a long distance—even a light hydration or daypack—conserving energy in the large muscles of your legs. And you can train your core in small blocks of time right in your home.

A hiker on "The Visor" of Half Dome, above Yosemite Valley.
Todd Arndt on “The Visor” of Half Dome, above Yosemite Valley. Click photo to get my custom trip planning for Yosemite or any trip you read about at this blog.

Five to seven days a week, do five to 15 minutes of abdominal and back exercises. I mix up the following, doing as many reps as I can:

•    Slow bicycle crunches—In the crunch position, hold each elbow to the opposite knee for a second.
•    Planks—Try to build up to three minutes.
•    Body roll-ups—Lie on your back, arms extended overhead, roll up into a ball, touching your feet, extend again, repeat.
•    Supermans—Stomach-down on the floor or on an ABS ball or other stability ball.

Twice a week, incorporate balance exercises to train your body for uneven terrain. Some suggestions:

•    Standing on one leg on a BOSU or similar balance trainer for 30 seconds; try to extend your raised leg straight out in front of you, and then bend your torso forward and extend your leg out behind you. Repeat on the other leg.
•    Standing on one leg on a BOSU, with its flat side up, holding light dumbbells in your hands, pump your arms forward and backward as if running. Do 50 or more reps (25 on each arm) if you can. Repeat on the other leg.
•    Stand on a bongo board and slide side to side or drop into a squat and rise back up.

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A climber below the East Face of Mount Whitney, High Sierra, California.
My son, Nate, at 15, below the East Face of Mount Whitney, High Sierra, California.

Resistance Exercises

Resistance exercise—lifting weights or doing body-weight exercises like squats, pushups, dips, and pull-ups—strengthens muscles by overworking them and makes bones stronger. It gives you endurance, power, and strength for climbing and descending hills with a pack on.

Do resistance exercises two or three times a week for an hour, developing a routine that targets all of the major muscles. Try to do at least half of your exercises in a way that engages the core muscles. For example:

Instead of doing standard one-arm rows with a dumbbell while bent over leaning on a bench, to engage your core, balance on one foot with a dumbbell in each hand. Then tilt your torso nearly 90 degrees forward and extend your raised leg straight out behind you, so your torso and legs form a T, with your arms extended downward holding the dumbbells. Keep the knee of the “post” leg slightly bent to avoid injury. Alternate rowing with each arm, using dumbbell weight that allows you to do 20 to 30 reps (10 to 15 with each arm); after a minute’s rest, perform a second set balancing on the other leg. Start with lighter dumbbells than you’re inclined to use—balancing on one leg while rowing with your arms greatly increases the difficulty.

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A backpacker on the Teton Crest Trail, Death Canyon Shelf, Grand Teton National Park.
David Gordon backpacking the Teton Crest Trail, Death Canyon Shelf, Grand Teton National Park. Click photo for my e-books to backpacking the Teton Crest Trail and other classic trips.

Make It Fun

Lastly, remember: This is supposed to be fun. Experiment and find exercises, routines, a schedule, and outdoor activities that you actually enjoy and look forward to—which is the real key to sticking with any fitness program. It shouldn’t be a chore; it should reinvigorate you. Set goals that are consistent with whatever achievement is truly important to you, but also with your lifestyle and how you want to spend your time.

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Backpacking the High and Mighty Beartooth Mountains https://thebigoutsideblog.com/backpacking-the-high-and-mighty-beartooth-mountains/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/backpacking-the-high-and-mighty-beartooth-mountains/#respond Wed, 12 Mar 2025 15:34:59 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=66589 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

“Big bull moose,” David calls to us over his shoulder, “just ahead of us.” Mark and I scan the forest, but we don’t catch even a glimpse of the moose—or for that matter, see David through the dense trees and brush, although he’s not more than 20 feet ahead of us. Then David, too, loses sight of the moose. Just a few hours into our first day backpacking in Montana’s Beartooth Mountains and moments after we started hiking off-trail, we’ve had our first close wildlife encounter—and two-thirds of us missed it.

Still, in a way, that moose foreshadows the surprises ahead of us for the rest of this day and the next four days in these mountains.

My friends David Gordon, Mark Fenton, and I plan to hike almost 50 miles over five days through the Beartooths, within the Absaroka-Beartooth Wilderness, a nearly 944,000-acre jumble of high, wild country encompassing the Absaroka and Beartooth Mountains, hugging the northeast corner of Yellowstone National Park along the Montana-Wyoming border.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter and receive great ideas for your next adventures. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my expert e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


Backpackers hiking off-trail above Lake Mary in the Beartooth Mountains, Montana.
David Gordon and Mark Fenton backpacking off-trail above Lake Mary in the Beartooth Mountains, Montana.

Tall and rugged even when compared to other ranges in the Rocky Mountains, the Beartooth Mountains are most uniquely characterized by high, rolling plateaus—the range possesses the largest contiguous area of land over 10,000 feet in the U.S. outside Alaska. It also has 28 peaks rising to over 12,000 feet, including Montana’s highest, 12,799-foot Granite Peak, hundreds of trout-filled alpine lakes, and deep, glacier-carved canyons with remnant patches of ancient ice still hanging on in high, northern aspects at the head of some canyons. Like other mountain ranges in the Northern Rockies, in addition to moose (like the one two of us almost saw), mountain goats, bighorn sheep, elk, bald eagles, marmots, pikas, lynx, gray wolves, black bears, and grizzlies all roam these mountains and canyons.

Despite its proximity to Yellowstone and covering an area nearly as large as Glacier National Park—and having about as many miles of trails as Glacier, roughly 700—the Absaroka-Beartooth exists in relative anonymity compared to its much more famous neighbors. That’s a good thing for backpackers.

Planning your next big adventure? See “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips
and “Tent Flap With a View: 25 Favorite Backcountry Campsites.”

 

A backpacker hiking the Spread Creek Trail across the Red Lodge Creek Plateau in the Beartooth Mountains, Montana.
David Gordon backpacking the Spread Creek Trail across the Red Lodge Creek Plateau in the Beartooth Mountains, Montana.

But of particular relevance to humans carrying all they need to survive for several days out here, these mountains are known for severe relief separating the creeks tumbling down canyon bottoms from passes that top 11,000 feet. Hiking gets hard out here.

This first morning on the trail introduced us to that stark topographical truth about the Beartooths. After a seven-mile, roughly 3,000-foot grind up the Spread Creek Trail, with steadily expanding views of the valley far below us where we’d begun this hike just a couple hours earlier, and the mountains and plateau beyond it, we reached Crow Lake, at 9,069 feet, nestled in pine forest at the foot of the cliffs of 11,936-foot Sylvan Peak.

We followed a use trail around the lake’s east shore—a pretty good path until it wasn’t—to the point where it abruptly disappeared into a boggy meadow beside the lake’s inlet creek. After tanking up on water, we struck out off-trail toward the alpine cirque above Crow Lake, navigating with a GPS app as the dense forest blocked any view of the terrain ahead.

Plan your next great backpacking trip on the Teton Crest Trail, Wonderland Trail,
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A backpacker hiking to Lake Sylvan in the Beartooth Mountains, Montana.
David Gordon backpacking to Lake Sylvan in the Beartooth Mountains, Montana. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan this trip or any trip you read about at my blog.

Now, not long after the brief moose encounter, we confront a slope of talus rearing up before us and begin stepping, scrambling, and hopping from one large boulder to the next, occasionally pushing through spiky picket fences of small trees stubbornly sprouting from narrow gaps between the boulders. Sweating through this granite cornfield maze, then hiking up steep, grassy slopes, we eventually land in the gentler terrain at the upper end of the glacial cirque above Crow Lake.

As the sun dips lower and our damp base layers begin to dry out, we reach a patch of grassy meadow a short walk from two tiny, shallow, but clear tarns—and just in time because dark clouds have been quickly massing overhead. Several deep and foreboding rumbles of thunder prompt us to swiftly pitch tents to spend the night here—saving the crossing of an unnamed, 10,000-foot pass ahead of us for morning.

The storm amounts to no more than a couple of passing, light showers. Then we watch the sky rapidly changing colors as the clouds break up, the show lasting well beyond sunset. After night falls and we retreat to our tents, strong winds begin stampeding through our camp, making sleep difficult for a few hours.

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Lake Mary to Sundance Pass

In the calm and crisp morning air of mid-August in the mountains, under the kind of ultra-blue Northern Rockies sky that can make anyone feel good about their world, we hike off-trail uphill over not-very-steep talus and across a treeless tundra of grass, scattered wildflowers, and lichen-stained rocks that comprise the upper cirque above Crow Lake. Cliffs loom over one side of the cirque; above them sprawls the rolling East Rosebud Plateau at well over 11,000 feet. On a shoulder at about 10,400 feet, just above an unnamed pass, we stop for a few minutes to take a big gulp of the 360 of mountains and plateau land stretching for miles in every direction.

Then we descend moderately steep slopes of grass and rocks to the partly forested shore of pretty little Lake Mary, at almost 10,000 feet—wishing we’d come this far yesterday and camped here. At the lake’s southern end, we pick up a trail descending into the magnificent canyon of the West Fork of Rock Creek, then walk the trail up that canyon, watching the creek shape-shift from calm pools to chortling swiftwater and yowling whitewater. On both sides, cliff bands and forested canyon walls rise to unseen high lakes and 12,000-foot peaks looming over plateaus.

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Backpackers hiking the West Fork Trail above the West Fork Rock Creek toward Sundance Pass in the Beartooth Mountains, Montana.
Mark Fenton and David Gordon backpacking the West Fork Trail above the West Fork Rock Creek toward Sundance Pass (also shown in lead photo at top of story) in the Beartooth Mountains, Montana.

Several miles up the canyon, we cross a wooden hiker and stock footbridge over the West Fork of Rock Creek and commence a deceptively long ascent, through more than 50 switchbacks (lead photo at top of story), toward Sundance Pass, at just over 11,000 feet. With every other switchback, we’re looking at the head of the West Fork’s canyon, enclosed tightly within a horseshoe formed by the rock walls and remnant glaciers of the 11,000-footer Medicine Mountain and a pair of 12,000-footers, Castle and Sundance mountains.

As we near the pass, dark gray clouds and brief volleys of raindrops hint at potentially worse weather to come; we quicken our pace, hoping to get over the pass before any such weather arrives.

At Sundance Pass, the wind slams us hard, but thunderstorms don’t appear imminent. We hunker down in the lee of boulders to eat and chug water and take in our first look down the other side of the pass at the steep-walled canyon of the Lake Fork of Rock Creek and September Morn Lake—our planned camp for tonight. A sub-ridge on the canyon’s north wall, above September Morn Lake, obstructs our view of the off-trail route we plan to hike steeply some 2,000 feet uphill to cross the Silver Run Plateau tomorrow. But however you slice it, that wall looks steep and rough.

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Then we have the kind of conversation that sometimes arises in the backcountry, contemplating various possible scenarios if we continue on this itinerary—including that thunderstorms have threatened by early afternoon on both of our days so far out here and, on our original plan, we could be navigating off-trail across several miles of high plateau at that time tomorrow.

The Gear I Used See my reviews of the outstanding backpack, tent, sleeping bag, insulated jacket, air mattress, ultralight stove and pot, and headlamp I used on this trip. Plus, I used these trekking poles and a friend who’s a longtime, avid backpacker and dayhiker used these poles.

Find the best gear, expert buying tips, and best-in-category reviews at my Gear Reviews page.

See all stories about backpacking in Montana at The Big Outside.

Not sure this is for you? See my stories “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be,” “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” and “5 Questions to Ask Before Trying a New Outdoors Adventure,” and this menu of all stories offering expert backpacking tips at The Big Outside, including these:

Bear Essentials: How to Store Food When Backcountry Camping
How to Prevent Hypothermia While Hiking and Backpacking
8 Pro Tips for Preventing Blisters When Hiking
5 Tips For Staying Warm and Dry While Hiking
7 Pro Tips For Keeping Your Backpacking Gear Dry

Want my help planning the details of this trip, including an itinerary appropriate for your group (such as an entirely on-trail route)? See my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you plan this or any trip you read about at this blog.

Please join me and many other lovers of this wilderness in supporting trail maintenance and other vital stewardship of the Absaroka-Beartooth Wilderness by donating to the Absaroka Beartooth Wilderness Foundation, abwilderness.org.

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12 Expert Tips for Finding Solitude When Backpacking https://thebigoutsideblog.com/12-expert-tips-for-finding-solitude-when-backpacking/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/12-expert-tips-for-finding-solitude-when-backpacking/#comments Sun, 09 Mar 2025 09:05:37 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=39814 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Solitude has always reigned as one of the holy grails of backpacking: We all dream of finding that lonely campsite deep in the wilderness with an amazing vista, or hiking for miles or days encountering few or even no other people on the trail. Unfortunately, reality often conflicts with expectations for many backpackers when they discover that the dream trip they’ve been anticipating for months was apparently a dream trip for an awful lot of other people, too.

But the truth is that there are many ways to find backcountry solitude because the odds work in your favor: Most wilderness trails have few or no people on them most of the time. The search for solitude is less a needle-in-a-haystack conundrum and more a matter of thinking outside the box: You simply have to understand where and when to look for it—and stop thinking like everyone else thinks.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A backpacker on the Continental Divide Trail in Glacier National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking the Continental Divide Trail in Glacier National Park.

I’ve learned the tricks for finding solitude described in this story over more than three decades (and counting) and innumerable thousands of miles of backpacking, including the 10 years I spent as Northwest Editor of Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog.

Following the strategies described in this story, I have enjoyed surprising degrees of solitude even on popular trails in major national parks like Yosemite, Grand Teton, Mount Rainier, Glacier, Zion, the Grand Canyon and Great Smoky Mountains, and others, as well as in federal wilderness in mountain ranges like the Wind River Range and Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains, in the Southwest canyon country—and even on parts of the John Muir Trail.

I believe these tips will work for you, too.

Like many stories at The Big Outside, part of this story requires a paid subscription to read: The first six tips below are free for anyone to read, but reading the rest—including tips you may not find from other sources—is an exclusive benefit for readers with a paid subscription to The Big Outside.

Please share what you think of my tips or any of your own tips for finding solitude in the comments section below this story. I try to respond to all comments.

Click on any photo in this story to read about that trip.

Iris Falls on the Bechler River, Yellowstone National Park.
Iris Falls along the Bechler River Trail in Yellowstone National Park.

1. Hit Less Well-Known Areas of Popular Parks

The first truth to understand is just how heavily concentrated most backcountry use is in the most popular parks. Chew on these stats for a minute:

• From 2011 to 2016, the number of permit requests for starting the John Muir Trail in Yosemite National Park doubled, reaching about 3,500. That explosive growth prompted Yosemite to implement a rolling lottery for JMT permits. These days, that system operates efficiently and fairly—yet still, nearly 70 percent of applications are unsuccessful.

A backpacker cooling off in the Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne River, Yosemite.
Todd Arndt cooling off in Yosemite’s Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne.

• I once interviewed a retired backcountry ranger who’d worked for 37 years in Yosemite, 25 years as wilderness manager, and had hiked every trail in Yosemite “probably about 10 times.” (The definition of “good gig.”) He said about 10 percent of the park’s hundreds of miles of trails—the JMT from Happy Isles to Donohue Pass and the Sierra High Camps loop—accounts for about 80 percent of all trail use. Little Yosemite Valley alone accounts for almost 20 percent. He told me: “There are areas of the park where you will see very few people.” Having backpacked all over Yosemite, I’ve discovered how correct he was.

• Up to 2013, Mount Rainier National Park received around 800 applications every March (when the park begins accepting permit requests for the year) for wilderness permits to climb or backpack in the park, including all or part of the Wonderland Trail. That number jumped to 1,400 in 2013, 2,000 in 2014, over 2,700 in 2015, and 5,900 in 2017—44 percent of them for backpacking the Wonderland Trail. The park has campsite capacity to grant about 900 permits annually for the entire Wonderland, about one in three of the roughly 2,500 applications for a full Wonderland permit.

• When applying for a backcountry permit in the Grand Canyon on the earliest date possible (four months in advance), the success rate in obtaining one goes from nearly 100 percent for trips from December through February to around 40 to 65 percent in April and October. Upwards of 75 percent or more of applications for backpacking the three popular corridor trails (Bright Angel and South and North Kaibab) in spring or fall get denied.

The flip side of those statistics reveal that many backcountry areas even in popular parks see far less demand for permits, such as northern Yosemite and a hike I consider Yosemite’s best-kept secret backpacking trip, numerous trails in Glacier including sections of the Continental Divide Trail, the Grand Canyon’s Royal Arch Loop, Escalante Route, Gems Route, and Clear Creek Trail and Utah Flats Route, Mount Rainier’s Northern Loop, the Maze District in Canyonlands, Yellowstone’s Bechler Canyon, and a gorgeous swath of the High Sierra in Sequoia National Park, among many examples. I even enjoyed solitude on most of a solo, 34-mile loop in the Great Smoky Mountains—during the October peak foliage season.

Ready for Some Real Solitude?
See my story “Big Scenery, No Crowds: 12 Top Backpacking Trips For Solitude.”

 

A backpacker descending from Panhandle Gap on the Wonderland Trail, Mount Rainier National Park.
Todd Arndt descending from Panhandle Gap on the Wonderland Trail, Mount Rainier National Park. Click photo for my Wonderland Trail e-book.

I’ve helped many readers of my blog plan a backpacking trip—and successfully obtain a permit—in Yosemite, Grand Teton, Glacier, Grand Canyon, and other uber-popular parks. See my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you plan all the details of your next adventure.

See my stories “12 Expert Tips for Planning a Wilderness Backpacking Trip,” and “How to Decide Where to Go Backpacking,” the menu of stories on my All Trips List, and my expert e-books to backpacking trips.

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A backpacker hiking the Teton Crest Trail on Death Canyon Shelf, Grand Teton National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking the Teton Crest Trail, Grand Teton National Park. Click photo for my expert Teton Crest Trail e-book.

2. Go Outside the Peak Season

You may have read this tip before and thought it sounds decidedly unappealing. If so, reconsider your apprehension because this represents one of the easiest strategies for finding solitude.

Good weather often persists into autumn in many mountain ranges—while backcountry use tends to tail off sharply after Labor Day. I’ve long considered September the best month for backpacking in Western mountains and have almost always encountered mild, dry days, cool but not frigid nights—and no bugs. In the Southwest canyons, moderate temperatures often arrive by late winter or early spring and the fall season can extend late October and November.

As examples, target post-Labor Day—the later the better for fewer people and less competition for a backcountry permit, weather permitting—to hike many northern Rockies or Pacific Northwest trips such as “The Best Backpacking Trip in Glacier National Park,” the Teton Crest Trail, Wind River Range, or Mount Rainier’s Wonderland Trail; late September or into October for “The Best First Backpacking Trip in Yosemite” or the John Muir Trail, mid-autumn for Zion’s Narrows (I hit a perfect weather window in early November—although I watched the forecast and our hike was preceded and followed by cold, wet weather), and late March to early April or late October well into November for “The Best First Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon.”

A backpacker enjoying the view from Maze Overlook in the Maze District, Canyonlands National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm enjoying the view from Maze Overlook in the Maze District, Canyonlands National Park.

And friends and I enjoyed even more solitude than usual by backpacking the Maze District in Canyonlands in the first week of March—when, contrary to what many backpackers might assume, while we had cold nights, daytime temperatures were ideal for hiking, trails and routes were dry (and snow-free), and we found water flowing from seasonal springs that can dry up as early as April.

My related tip no. 9 (below) shares a trick I’ve learned about the transitional times between peak and off-seasons.

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Click here for expert advice you won’t get anywhere else.

A backpacker in the Redfish Valley of Idaho's Sawtooth Mountains.
Kade Aldrich backpacking in the Redfish Valley of Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains.

3. Go to Wilderness Areas Instead of National Parks

For many good reasons, national parks are the marquis destinations for everyone who loves the outdoors. But the U.S. has over twice as much wilderness as parks: more than 111 million acres compared to 52.2 million acres in parks. That’s an area larger than California spread across more than 760 designated wilderness areas that are managed for the same values and uses as the large, wilderness-based national parks—although often without a need to reserve a permit in advance.

Backpackers in the narrows of Paria Canyon.
Backpackers in the narrows of Paria Canyon.

Many federal wilderness areas were protected before some newer parks and were once considered for national park designation—in other words, they’re just as nice, but without the red tape, renown, and crowds of some parks.

Want some suggestions?

I have long seen similarities between Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains and the Tetons and High Sierra. The Wind River Range certainly compares for majesty with any mountains in the West and may be outdone only by the High Sierra in its abundance of beautiful alpine lakes. While getting a backcountry permit for the John Muir Wilderness and others in the Sierra can be competitive, it’s nothing like trying to get a permit in parts of Yosemite or for the John Muir Trail.

Moreover, the Timberline Trail around Mount Hood is in many respects the scenic equal—and a shorter version—of Mount Rainier’s Wonderland Trail. Paria Canyon unquestionably ranks among the very best multi-day canyon hikes in the Southwest. You’ll find outstanding mountains and solitude in much of the High Uintas Wilderness (lead photo at top of story), Glacier Peak Wilderness, Pasayten Wilderness, and Eagle Cap Wilderness, and on the Ruby Crest Trail.

Looking for a trip in the East? One of my favorites is this 32-mile loop in New Hampshire’s Pemigewasset Wilderness.

Start planning your next adventure now! See “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips
and “How to Plan a Wilderness Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips.”

Hikers on Trail 47 in Idaho's White Cloud Mountains.
Chip Roser and Scott White hiking Trail 47 in Idaho’s White Cloud Mountains.

4. Go to the Places You Rarely Hear About

Yes, some wilderness areas are as popular and crowded as some national parks—or even more crowded, especially if they lack a permit system or other management regulations that control the numbers of people. Proximity to population centers exerts a major impact on the numbers of people seen on trails (the subject of the next tip).

But sometimes it’s simply a matter of a destination becoming well known—a name familiar to many people all over the country. If you read and hear about the place frequently, other backpackers are reading and hearing about it, too.

Seek out places you rarely or never hear about—like some of those in the menu of stories on my All Trips List, including southern Utah’s Dark Canyon Wilderness, Hells Canyon, and Idaho’s White Cloud Mountains and wild and remote Idaho Wilderness Trail.

Plan your next great backpacking trip in Yosemite, Grand Teton,
and other parks using my expert e-books.

A backpacker near Park Creek Pass in North Cascades National Park.
Todd Arndt backpacking to Park Creek Pass in North Cascades National Park.

5. Go to Places Far from Big Cities

Living in Idaho, a largely rural state where the biggest city is much smaller than the major cities in many states, I have explored many mountain ranges and canyons visited by few other people simply because there aren’t very many people who live within a half-day’s drive of these places. Conversely, parks like like Yosemite, Sequoia, Mount Rainier, Great Smoky Mountains, Everglades, Grand Canyon and others lie within reach of millions of people for a weekend trip.

Travel to places that lie several hours’ drive from major population centers and airports and you are virtually assured of seeing fewer people.

Some national parks with five-star scenery that are prime examples of this tip and the previous one are North Cascades, Capitol Reef, and the southern Olympic coast.

Read all of this story—including my best tips for solitude—
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A backpacker in northern Yosemite National Park.
Todd Arndt backpacking in northern Yosemite National Park. Click photo for my help planning your trip in Yosemite or elsewhere.

6. Backpack Deeper into the Backcountry

When I planned a 150-mile hike—split into two backpacking trips—to explore the most remote corners of Yosemite National Park (photo above), that pair of trips illustrated a phenomenon I have seen repeated many times in many places: The deeper we got into the backcountry, the fewer people we saw.

Backpackers hiking the Piegan Pass Trail in Glacier National Park.
Backpackers on the Piegan Pass Trail in Glacier National Park.

With most backpackers taking trips of 50 miles or less, the falloff in numbers of people in the backcountry becomes significant the more miles you put between yourself and the nearest trailhead. Spending more days in the backcountry also eases you into a different mindset that brings its own rewards, beyond finding solitude, but which solitude amplifies.

I’ve enjoyed the myriad benefits of longer trips on this 80-mile hike through the North Cascades National Park complex, this 57-mile hike in the remote interior of Idaho’s Sawtooths, this 74-mile trek I’ve called “the best backpacking trip in the Grand Canyon,” this 94-mile traverse of Glacier National Park (photo at right), and this 130-mile hike through the High Sierra, mostly on the John Muir Trail.

Upping your game from 40-mile backpacking trips to, say, 80 miles, or a thru-hike of a long trail like the John Muir Trail, becomes much more feasible when you get smarter about your trip planning and habits in camp and on the trail and lighten your gear.

See my stories “A Practical Guide to Lightweight and Ultralight Backpacking,” “5 Tips for Getting Out of Camp Faster When Backpacking,” and “12 Expert Tips for Planning a Wilderness Backpacking Trip.”

Score a popular permit using my
10 Tips For Getting a Hard-to-Get National Park Backcountry Permit.”

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17 Photos From 2024 That Will Inspire Your Next Adventure https://thebigoutsideblog.com/17-photos-from-2024-that-will-inspire-your-next-adventure/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/17-photos-from-2024-that-will-inspire-your-next-adventure/#respond Mon, 16 Dec 2024 20:15:01 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=65275 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

How was your 2024? I hope you got outdoors as much as possible with the people you care about—and you enjoyed adventures that inspired you. I’m sharing in this story photos from several backpacking and hiking trips I took this year, from the Grand Canyon in April and southern Utah in May to the Tetons and Montana’s Beartooths in August, Colorado’s San Juans in September, northern Utah’s High Uintas Wilderness in early October—and culminating with three classic Great Walks and dayhiking in New Zealand in late November and December.

That’s a pretty good year, right?

I’m fortunate to be able to get out a lot, and yet, 2024 still felt like an exceptional year for me. Going through my photos always reminds me not just about the details of these experiences and places—but most of all, what’s most important in my life and why I strive to make getting outdoors a top priority. I know you do, too—that’s why you read my blog.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A backpacker hiking to Lake Sylvan in the Beartooth Mountains, Montana.
David Gordon backpacking to Lake Sylvan in the Beartooth Mountains, Montana.

The photos in this story are selected images from those trips. Whether you want to learn more to take any of them yourself or just want to find some inspiration for your own adventures, I think you’ll enjoy this little escape.

Scroll through the photos and short anecdotes from each trip below. Some include links to stories about those places that I’ve already posted—many of which require a paid subscription to The Big Outside to read in full, including my tips and information on how to plan and take those trips. Click any photo to learn more about that trip.

Watch for my upcoming stories about the other places described below.

A hiker trekking New Zealand's Routeburn Track.
My wife, Penny, trekking New Zealand’s Routeburn Track.

I can help you plan any of these trips or any others you read about at The Big Outside—giving you the benefit of my three decades of professional experience identifying, planning, and successfully pulling off great adventures. See my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you, and my expert e-books to some of America’s best backpacking trips.

I’d love to hear what you think of any of my photos or the places shown in them, or upcoming plans you have. Please share your thoughts in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

Enjoy my pictures and start now planning your adventures for 2025.

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A backpacker hiking the Tonto Trail above Serpentine Canyon, along the Gems Route in the Grand Canyon.
Todd Arndt backpacking the Tonto Trail above Serpentine Canyon, along the Gems Route in the Grand Canyon.

The Grand Canyon’s Gems Route

In April, five friends joined me returning to a place I cannot seem to get enough of—the Grand Canyon—to spend six days backpacking about 60 miles following one of the most remote, lonely, and hard multi-day hikes in the canyon: the Gems Route from the South Bass Trailhead to the Hermit Trailhead. I know, I know: “remote, lonely, and hard” describes almost every multi-day hike in the canyon. But consider these salient facts about the Gems Route.

Besides starting and finishing on steep and difficult trails off the South Rim, it traverses the longest segment of the 95-mile-long Tonto Trail with no bailout path the South Rim: the 29 miles from Bass Canyon to Boucher Creek, which the park’s website describes as the Tonto’s “most difficult and potentially dangerous” leg for the lack of perennial water. In April, probably the best month of the year to find water in seasonal creeks (as we did), we each nonetheless had to twice carry up to about 17 pounds of water on our backs.

A backpacker hiking the Tonto Trail toward Topaz Canyon, along the Gems Route in the Grand Canyon.
Mark Fenton backpacking the Tonto Trail toward Topaz Canyon, along the Gems Route in the Grand Canyon.

The Gems Route draws its name from several tributary canyons you cross on the Tonto Trail—including five that we crossed, Ruby, Turquoise, Sapphire, Agate, and Topaz—each one strikingly deep, with towering, brilliantly colorful cliffs. As always on the Tonto, views extend from the Colorado River to both rims and the canyon’s landscape seems to constantly change as the sun marches across the sky. And even by Grand Canyon standards, few hikes offer this much solitude: For three days, we saw no one else.

See my story “‘Let’s Talk Water:’ Backpacking the Grand Canyon’s Gems” and all stories about backpacking in the Grand Canyon at The Big Outside.

I’ve helped many readers plan unforgettable backpacking and hiking trips.
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Backpackers hiking in lower Owl Canyon, Bears Ears National Monument, Utah.
Backpacking in lower Owl Canyon, Bears Ears National Monument, Utah.

Owl and Fish Canyons

A May trip to southern Utah began with four of us backpacking the three-day, approximately 17-mile loop through Owl and Fish canyons, in southeastern Utah’s Bears Ears National Monument, which begins and ends with rugged hiking and scrambling at the upper ends of both canyons—including a 12-foot corner in a cliff to reach the rim of Fish Canyon (aided by a fixed rope).

While not for anyone uncomfortable with moderate exposure, these canyons evoke better-known places in southern Utah, with tall, red cliffs, towers, the striking amphitheater surrounding Nevills Arch, rippled slickrock, pour-offs and seasonal waterfalls, flowering cacti, cottonwoods, and a surprising abundance of seasonal, clear water in parts of both canyons.

A backpacker hiking in upper Fish Canyon, Bears Ears National Monument, Utah.
My wife, Penny, backpacking in upper Fish Canyon, Bears Ears National Monument, Utah.

Owl and Fish canyons offer a rare find: incredible scenery (and night skies), awesome campsites, solitude, and a permit that’s easier to get than for better-known Southwest backpacking trips.

See my story “Backpacking Southern Utah’s Owl and Fish Canyons,” “The 12 Best Backpacking Trips in the Southwest,” and all stories about hiking and backpacking in southern Utah at The Big Outside.


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A hiker on the Navajo Knobs Trail in Capitol Reef National Park, in southern Utah.
My wife, Penny, hiking the Navajo Knobs Trail in Capitol Reef National Park, in southern Utah.

Capitol Reef, Bryce Canyon, and Zion National Parks

A view along the West Rim Trail above Zion Canyon in Zion National Park.
A view along the West Rim Trail in Zion National Park.

My wife, Penny, and I also hit a trifecta of parks on our southern trip in May: dayhiking in Capitol Reef, Bryce Canyon, and Zion.

We began in  Capitol Reef, which for many hikers does not come to mind first when contemplating a visit to the Southwest—even though it really has some of the step-for-step nicest dayhikes in the region, including one of the very best, which we hiked: the Navajo Knobs Trail.

In Bryce Canyon at a peak time of year to explore the Southwest, hiking the eight-mile Fairyland Loop reminded me that, even on days when hundreds of tourists are jamming the walkways and overlooks that lie a short stroll from the park’s sprawling parking lots, you can escape the crowds within a mile of hiking virtually any trail, finding quietude and what feels like a deeper connection with Bryce’s hoodoos and amphitheaters.

Lastly, in Zion, we pedaled rented bikes to the end of the road in Zion Canyon—a peaceful, relatively easy, and super scenic little adventure thanks to that road being closed to most private vehicles for most of the year—and I hiked up the West Rim Trail well beyond the junction with the spur trail up Angels Landing, revisiting another beautiful stretch of trail that sees just a smattering of hikers.

See my stories “The Best Hikes in Capitol Reef National Park,” “The Two Best Hikes in Bryce Canyon National Park,” “The 10 Best Hikes in Zion National Park,” “The 15 Best Hikes in Utah’s National Parks,” and all stories about hiking and backpacking in southern Utah at The Big Outside.

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A hiker descending the North Fork Cascade Canyon in Grand Teton National Park.
My son, Nate, hiking down the North Fork Cascade Canyon in Grand Teton National Park.

The Tetons

Over three days on the first weekend of August, my son, Nate, and I knocked off a few stellar adventures together in the Teton Range (another place I cannot get enough of). First, we took advantage of a rare, uniquely perfect weather forecast to climb the 13,775-foot Grand Teton in a day via the Owen-Spalding Route—some 17 miles, 7,200 vertical feet, thousands of feet of scrambling and a couple of easy pitches of rock climbing in about 16.5 hours, car to car (with me slowing my 23-year-old son down, not vice versa).

Michael Lanza of The Big Outside and his son, Nate, on the summit of the Grand Teton.
My son, Nate, and me on the summit of the Grand Teton.

The next afternoon we took an active rest day of sorts, mountain biking some great trails in the Teton Pass area off WY 22.

And on our third day together, we took one of the best long dayhikes in the Tetons, from the boat landing on the west side of Jenny Lake in the park (taking the very scenic boat shuttle across Jenny) up the North Fork Cascade Canyon to Lake Solitude, just over 15 miles and 2,300 feet out-and-back. Near the end of that hike, coming back down Cascade Canyon, not more than about 30 minutes from Jenny Lake, we were surprised coming around a blind turn in the trail to see a huge bull moose standing just steps off the path; we hustled quickly past him.

See “10 Great, Big Dayhikes in the Tetons,” my expert e-books to backpacking the Teton Crest Trail and the best short backpacking trip in the Tetons, and all stories about backpacking in Grand Teton National Park at The Big Outside.

Plan your next great backpacking trip in Yosemite, Grand Teton,
and other parks using my expert e-books.

Backpackers hiking the West Fork Trail above the West Fork Rock Creek toward Sundance Pass in the Beartooth Mountains, Montana.
Mark Fenton and David Gordon backpacking the West Fork Trail toward Sundance Pass in Montana’s Beartooth Mountains.

The Beartooth Mountains

In the middle of August, two friends and I backpacked about 44 miles, with a bit of off-trail hiking, over five days in Montana’s Beartooth Mountains, which conjure mental images of Glacier National Park— although the Beartooths are in many ways more challenging, primarily for having more strenuous trails and higher elevations. But the great advantage of the Beartooths over Glacier is this: no permit reservation required.

That trip featured some gorgeous lakes (at least one likely to eventually grace my story spotlighting the most gorgeous backcountry lakes I’ve seen; see the photo of Lake Sylvan near the top of this story) and waterfalls and sweeping views of classic Northern Rockies landscapes, with deep, glacier-carved, U-shaped creek valleys below soaring cliffs and craggy peaks. But the big climb from the West Fork Rock Creek Valley to Sundance Pass at around 11,000 feet kind of blew us away: We walked through many switchbacks, every step of the way overlooking the arc of mountains, some with remnant glaciers, at the head of that valley.

Watch for my upcoming feature story about that trip at The Big Outside.

The right gear makes any trip go better.
See “The 10 Best Backpacking Packs” and “The 10 Best Backpacking Tents.”

A backpacker hiking the Continental Divide Trail north toward Squaw Pass in the Weminuche Wilderness, San Juan Mountains, Colorado.
My wife, Penny, backpacking the Continental Divide Trail north toward Squaw Pass in the Weminuche Wilderness, San Juan Mountains, Colorado.

The Continental Divide Trail in Colorado’s San Juan Mountains

I’ve long considered September—especially the first half of the month—arguably the best time of year for backpacking in the mountains of the U.S. West. This year, my wife, Penny, and I headed to the tall and majestic San Juan Mountains of southwestern Colorado to backpack a four-day, 31-mile loop in the Weminuche Wilderness.

We spent two of those days mostly at around 12,000 feet on a stretch of the Continental Divide Trail, hiking along endless ridge crests in the midst of a turbulent sea of hulking mountains that stretched to every horizon. We heard elk bugling; got battered by very strong, chilly winds and a sudden, late-afternoon thunderstorm that prompted a quick decision to pitch our tent a bit earlier than planned, but in a lovely meadow a short walk from a pretty little alpine lake; and saw just a handful of other backpackers on that piece of the CDT (all of them solo, southbound CDT thru-hikers). That short trip fanned the flames of my desire to put together a longer hike on some or all of the CDT in Colorado or the Colorado Trail.

Watch for my upcoming story about that San Juans loop hike at The Big Outside.

Planning your next big adventure? See “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips
and “Tent Flap With a View: 25 Favorite Backcountry Campsites.”

 

A backpacker hiking the Uinta Highline Trail west of Red Knob Pass, High Uintas Wilderness, Utah.
My son, Nate, backpacking the Uinta Highline Trail west of Red Knob Pass, High Uintas Wilderness, Utah.

The Uinta Highline Trail

With an unusually good weather forecast for early October, my son, Nate, and I set out to backpack a respectable chunk of the Uinta Highline Trail in Utah’s High Uintas Wilderness (also shown in lead photo at the top of this story), about 60 miles in four days, from the Henrys Fork Trailhead—the shortest approach to Utah’s high point, 13,528-foot Kings Peak—to the trail’s western terminus at Hayden Pass on the Mirror Lake Highway/UT 150. Excited by the forecast and the prospect of yet another father-son adventure together—a countless number of which he, now 24, and I have shared since he was too young to remember our earliest, much more modest trips—we wound up, in almost equal parts, as awed by its majesty as humbled by how tough it is.

I’d backpacked in the High Uintas and hiked up Kings before, with my wife and daughter (on this trip), but Nate had recently decided that, after living in Utah for five years (since college), he needed to finally account for the glaring omission of the state’s high point in his outdoor resume. He had also become more interested in the Uinta Highline Trail, which traverses the range for more than 100 miles, much of it between 10,000 and over 12,000 feet, including numerous high passes. On our four-day hike, we crossed seven passes ranging from just over 11,200 feet to the trail’s high point, Anderson Pass at around 12,700 feet. And we did tag Kings Peak on a bluebird morning.

A backpacker hiking the Uinta Highline Trail west toward Dead Horse Pass in Utah's High Uintas Wilderness.
My son, Nate, backpacking the Uinta Highline Trail west toward Dead Horse Pass in Utah’s High Uintas Wilderness.

It being October at lofty elevations, we certainly experienced a multi-course meal of mountain weather, including some strong, cold wind, mornings below freezing—we slept under the stars, looking up at a clear night sky riddled with pinpoints of light floating in and around the glowing streak of our galaxy, and woke each morning with our bags quite wet on the outside from the heavy frost melting on them. (Gear tip: I stayed warm and dry in this bag, and our bags dried out quickly as soon as the morning sun hit them.)

But every day presented vast creek basins and one or two more high passes to cross; the vistas seemed endless. And it being October, each of our very rare encounters with other backpackers surprised us as much as them.

The Uinta Highline Trail is unquestionably one of the most under-appreciated multi-day hikes in the country. I will tell you with a straight face that it deserves comparisons with the John Muir Trail, Teton Crest Trail, Wonderland Trail, and the best backpacking trips in Glacier National Park, Yosemite, the Wind River Range, and Idaho’s Sawtooths. And you will often find more solitude in the Uintas than in some of those other places.

Yes, really. But you underestimate its difficulty at your own peril.

See my feature story about that trip, “Backpacking—and Sandbagging—Utah’s Uinta Highline Trail,” and my story about a previous trip there, “Tall and Lonely: Backpacking Utah’s High Uintas Wilderness,” and all stories about backpacking in Utah at The Big Outside.

Want my help planning any trip on this list?
Click here for expert advice you won’t get anywhere else.

 

Blue Lake, along New Zealand's Tongariro Alpine Crossing.
Blue Lake, along New Zealand’s Tongariro Alpine Crossing.

Three Great Walks in New Zealand

I spent more than three weeks from late November to mid-December hiking around New Zealand with my family, including knocking off three of that country’s 11 amazing Great Walks: the Tongariro Alpine Crossing, the Routeburn Track, and the Milford Track.

First stop: the North Island, for some world-class mountain biking in Rotorua, followed by a dayhike of the Tongariro Alpine Crossing. It’s 12 miles from the Mangatepōpō Road end to the Ketetahi Road end, with more than 2,100 feet of uphill and a longer descent of more than 3,600 feet (in that direction). Those simple metrics don’t fully communicate the difficulty, from the steepness for sustained stretches on the ascent to the trail’s high point, at the rim of Red Crater, and the descent past Red Crater; or the impact that the strong wind and horizontal rain can have (and we had in spades). But the Tongariro deserves to be ranked among the world’s great treks for its almost constant views of active, rugged volcanoes, its moonscape of broad craters, and lakes that seem to glow with color.

Trekkers hiking New Zealand's Milford Track.
My wife, Penny, and our friend Cat Serio trekking New Zealand’s Milford Track.

Hopping down to the South Island, we tackled a pair of classic hut treks: three days on the nearly 21-mile Routeburn Track (see photo near the top of this story) in Mount Aspiring National Park and Fiordland National Park, which connects trailheads in the bush via a long, alpine traverse over tussock highlands, past stunning waterfalls and rivers, and over its high point at Harris Saddle. Then we spent four days on the 33-mile Milford Track in Fiordland, widely hailed as one of the world’s great treks, where days of rain had created countless braids of roaring waterfalls in the valleys.

Not surprisingly for any of these trails, we encountered rain and windin full force at timeson each of them. But we also experienced everything that makes “tramping” around New Zealand special: the always fascinating forests (or the “bush,” as Kiwis call it); rivers varying in character from calm to raging; alpine traverses where mountains stretch to far horizons; and easily well over a hundred waterfalls tumbling in endless braids down tall, steep mountainsides.

Watch for my upcoming stories from our New Zealand trip. Meanwhile, see my story about my first hike in Tongariro National Park and all stories about adventures in New Zealand at The Big Outside; and find more information about the Great Walks at doc.govt.nz/parks-and-recreation/things-to-do/walking-and-tramping/great-walks.

As you plan your trips for next year, see “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips,” “The 25 Best National Park Dayhikes,” my 25 all-time favorite backcountry campsites, and my Trips page at The Big Outside.

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The Best Clothing Layers for Winter in the Backcountry https://thebigoutsideblog.com/the-best-clothing-layers-for-winter-in-the-backcountry/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/the-best-clothing-layers-for-winter-in-the-backcountry/#comments Sun, 01 Dec 2024 10:00:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=25995 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

There’s one thing we can confidently say about the clothing layers we use in winter: We get our money’s worth out of them. While a rain shell or puffy jacket may rarely come out of our pack on a summer hike or climb, we almost invariably wear every article of clothing we carry when Nordic, downhill, or backcountry skiing, snowshoeing, snowboarding, trail running, or climbing in winter. That’s money spent wisely to make us more comfortable and safer.

Every winter, I test out new clothing layers doing many of those activities frequently—something I’ve been doing for three decades, previously as the lead gear reviewer for Backpacker magazine for 10 years and even longer running this blog. This review spotlights the best shell and insulated jackets, base layers, and pants I’ve found for high-exertion and moderate-exertion activities in winter.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A backcountry skier in the Galena Summit area, Idaho.
My son, Nate, backcountry skiing in the Galena Summit area, Idaho.

In my story “How to Dress in Layers for Winter in the Backcountry,” I offer advice—based on four decades of backcountry experience—on how to choose a specific, personalized layering system for different exertion levels and body types in temperatures near or below freezing. Use the tips in that story, along with this review, to make the best choices in winter outdoor apparel for your activities, your climate, and your body.

Please share your experiences with any of these products in the comments section at the bottom of this review. I try to respond to all comments. And if you make a purchase through any of the affiliate links to online retailers in this story or other reviews at The Big Outside, you support my work on this blog at no cost to you. Thanks for doing that.

Don’t go out in the cold without my “12 Pro Tips For Staying Warm Outdoors in Winter.”

Backcountry avalanche instructor Chago Rodriguez skiing in the shadow of Mount Heyburn in Idaho's Sawtooth Mountains.
Expert backcountry avalanche instructor Chago Rodriguez skiing in the shadow of Mount Heyburn in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains. Click photo to learn about his courses.

The Best Base Layers for Winter

Whatever your exertion level, you want next-to-skin tops and bottoms that perform two functions that become especially important in winter:

1. Wick moisture off your skin quickly.
2. Provide at least the minimum amount of warmth you need for the conditions and your body.

Here are the best base-layer tops I’ve found for various activities in winter as well as cooler three-season conditions.

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Patagonia Capilene Midweight Zip-Neck.
Patagonia Capilene Midweight Zip-Neck.

Patagonia Capilene Midweight Zip-Neck

$99, 7.5 oz./213g
backcountry.com

I routinely wear the Patagonia Capilene Midweight Zip-Neck while backcountry, resort, and Nordic skiing and on cool- to cold-weather trail runs. The 100 percent recycled polyester fabric delivers a lot of warmth for its low weight, breathes very well, and wicks moisture efficiently. A deep front zipper opens down to the pecs for good venting, while the collar reaches high enough to keep my neck covered when zipped up.

Comfort is excellent thanks to flatlock seams and shoulder construction that allows full mobility without causing the top to hike up. The fabric’s smooth face slips easily into fleece jacket sleeves. Thumb loops hold the sleeves over your hands. The Polygiene odor control has prevented it from getting stinky through many sweaty outings and launderings. All in all, you get a four-season, midweight top with Patagonia quality.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, when you click either of these affiliate links to purchase the men’s, women’s, or kid’s Patagonia Capilene Midweight Zip-Neck at backcountry.com, patagonia.com, or rei.com.

Check out “The Best Gloves for Winter” and “The Best Mittens for Winter.”

Outdoor Research Vigor Quarter Zip
Outdoor Research Vigor Quarter Zip.

Outdoor Research Vigor Quarter Zip

$99, 11 oz./312g
backcountry.com

On many days skiing the backcountry, resorts, and hilly Nordic trails from Idaho’s Boise Mountains to Utah’s Wasatch Range and elsewhere, in temperatures from single digits through the 20s Fahrenheit, sometimes in dumping snow with a below-zero wind chill, OR’s Vigor Quarter Zip (usually with a wool-poly T-shirt underneath) had my back, striking a critical balance between providing enough warmth for the chilly moments without causing me to get too wet on long ascents. When I sweated hard, the Vigor moved moisture so well that it never became more than damp and would dry within minutes of my exertion level dropping.

Similar to other warm tops, the Vigor is made with a light, grid-back polyester fleece that feels soft against skin and moves moisture exceptionally well, its mechanical performance enhanced by ActiveTemp thermo-regulating treatment. You can wear it as a base layer—the flat-seam construction aids comfort—or (as I frequently do) over a lighter, short-sleeve or long-sleeve base layer, with or without a jacket.

The 10-inch front zipper reaches to your sternum for good venting and zips up to your chin. The stretch fabric and thumbholes in the cuffs allow you to slip the sleeves up inside gloves or push sleeves up to the elbows. The zippered chest pocket fits a phone and breathes well enough to quickly dry something damp stuffed in there (like a light hat for skinning uphill when ski touring). The UPF 30 sun-protection rating protects skin year-round—just as useful in March as August in the mountains. Plus, the length extends to cover your entire butt, providing more warmth when tucked into ski pants.

The Vigor Quarter Zip doesn’t have the hood or mapped warmer and lighter fabrics of the Patagonia R1—possibly appealing to users who prefer not having a hood on a pullover or already have an insulation layer with a hood in addition to a hooded winter shell. It offers four-season versatility for any snow sport, hiking, climbing, and running—at a good price.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, clicking any of these affiliate links to purchase a men’s or women’s Outdoor Research Vigor Quarter Zip at rei.com, backcountry.com, or outdoorresearch.com, or other models in OR’s Vigor series, including the full-zip hoodie, at rei.com, backcountry.com, or outdoorresearch.com.

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Patagonia Men’s R1 Pullover Hoody
Patagonia Men’s R1 Pullover Hoody.

Patagonia R1 Pullover Hoody

$169, 10 oz./284g
backcountry.com

For a huge range of activities and exertion levels in temps from just above to well below freezing, few base or insulation layers offer the versatility of the men’s Patagonia R1 Pullover Hoody (in a range of sizes that will fit many women) and women’s R1 Fleece Pullover ($139). Patagonia touts these pullovers for climbing and skiing—for which they certainly excel—but I have worn the R1 Pullover Hoody year-round while backcountry skiing, climbing, hiking, backpacking, and in my sleeping bag on cool to very cold nights; and as my only insulation piece for six days of backpacking in the Grand Canyon in May.

The versatility lies in the stretchy, recycled polyester and spandex Polartec Power Grid fabric, exclusive to Patagonia, which has outstanding breathability and warmth for its weight, making this top versatile as a layering or stand-alone piece in temps ranging from the 50s Fahrenheit to as far below freezing as you can bear. A midweight fabric is used on the front, back, and sleeves, while a slightly lighter, more breathable grid fabric comprises the hood, sides, armpits, and girding the waist. The close fit has space for layering a lightweight T-shirt or long-sleeve underneath—which gives the best performance—and the extended length stays tucked inside a pack belt or climbing harness.

The low-bulk, close-fitting balaclava-style hood gives a noticeable boost in warmth, fits under any helmet, doesn’t interfere with other hoods in a layering system—and it’s easy to tuck the hood under the collar, out of the way. The front zipper plunges nearly to the belly button for superior venting and zips up to let the collar front cover your nose. The elasticized cuffs with thumbholes have good stretch to both seal out cold air and slide the sleeves up to the elbows. The zippered chest pocket fits a wool hat or light gloves and is mesh-lined, so you can put something damp in there to quickly dry from body heat. Polygiene treatment controls odors.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these affiliate links to purchase a Patagonia men’s R1 Pullover Hoody at backcountry.com, patagonia.com, or rei.com, or a women’s or men’s R1 Long-Sleeved Crew, R1 Fleece Pullover, or other R1 apparel at backcountry.com, patagonia.com, or rei.com.

See more of the best base layers for being active outdoors.

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Beyond Clothing Dasche L3 Jacket with hood up.
The Beyond Clothing Dasche L3 Jacket.

The Best Insulated Jackets for Being Active

As I write in my story “How to Dress in Layers for Winter in the Backcountry,” for backcountry skiing or ski touring, snowshoeing, or hiking, you need a layering system with great versatility—and the critical piece is the middle, or insulating layer. It provides most of your layering system’s warmth, and it must breathe well, because your outer/shell layer provides the full weather protection. In moderate-exertion activities, the more breathable your insulating layer, the less frequently you have to make layering changes—a challenge that modern synthetic insulation has risen to meet effectively.

If your winter sport of choice involves sweating and breathing hard, like running and Nordic skiing or even power hiking, you may need only a lightweight jacket with some warmth, superior breathability to dump the copious moisture your body is producing, and enough water resistance to not soak through in light rain or snow—or in dry weather, perhaps just a very breathable insulated layer to function as your outerwear.

Here are the best middle/insulation layers I’ve found for moderate- and high-exertion activities in winter.

Plan your next great backpacking trip in Yosemite, Grand Teton,
and other parks using my expert e-books.

Ibex Wool Aire Vest
Ibex Wool Aire Vest

Ibex Wool Aire Vest

$235, 7.5 oz./213g
ibex.com

The widely varying conditions I’ve worn the Ibex Wool Aire Vest in speak to its versatility. It was my only outer layer over the same two base layers on days of vigorous Nordic skiing ranging from sunny, calm, and mid-30s Fahrenheit to cloudy and below freezing with strong winds. And I’ve worn it as my sole middle layer under a winter shell in temps from around freezing to the mid-teens with a frigid wind on days of snowshoeing and backcountry skiing downhill and as my outer layer when skinning uphill.

The formula is warm Merino wool insulation, a shell with good wind resistance, and a comfortably athletic fit that helps trap heat in your core while enabling you to vent heat from your arms.

Read my full review of the Ibex Wool Aire Vest.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking this affiliate link to purchase the men’s or women’s Ibex Wool Aire Vest or Ibex Wool Aire Hoodie at ibex.com.

Avoid getting too cold—or too hot—on your winter adventures.
Learn “How to Dress in Layers for Winter in the Backcountry.”

The Himali Limitless Grid Fleece Hoodie.
The Himali Limitless Grid Fleece Hoodie.

Himali Limitless Grid Fleece Hoodie

$160, 9.2 oz./261g
himali.com

The evolution of fleece has traced an arc toward versatility that’s reaching its apex in lightweight fleece hoodies like Himali’s Limitless Grid Fleece Hoodie. The breadth of activities, conditions, and environments where I’ve worn it (so far) speak to my point, from a 13-hour, four-summit, chilly October dayhike in Utah’s Wasatch Range to a short hike in southern New Hampshire, backpacking in southern Utah’s Escalante region, camping and climbing in Idaho, and a local trail run in the chilly, fading daylight of a November afternoon.

Warm for its low weight and fast-drying thanks to the 100 percent recycled Polartec PowerGrid fabric, with an athletic fit that has space for a base layer underneath, ample stretch in the fabric, a close-fitting, elasticized hood, one zippered chest pocket, and thumbholes in the cuffs, the Limitless Grid Fleece Hoodie is basically a warm, midweight jersey with a full front zipper and a hood. It falls into a small category of the lightest, most breathable and packable hooded jackets you will find.

Consider this: It can serve as a warmer but not heavier replacement for a long-sleeve, midweight crew neck or zip-neck base layer, allowing you to bring a lighter down or synthetic insulated jacket—thus reducing your pack weight. A great outer or middle layer for dayhiking and backpacking, climbing, running, Nordic and backcountry skiing, walking—you name it. A caveat: Consider it best for cool but not very cold temps and keep in mind that it offers no wind protection.

Read my full review of the Himali Limitless Grid Fleece Hoodie.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking either of these affiliate links to purchase a men’s Himali Limitless Grid Fleece Hoodie at himali.com or a women’s Mindset ¼ Zip Fleece Pullover at himali.com.

Readers of The Big Outside get an exclusive 10 percent off any Himali purchase by using the discount code THEBIGOUTSIDE.

Patagonia Nano-Air Vest
Patagonia Nano-Air Vest.

Patagonia Nano-Air Light Vest

$199, 8 oz./227g
backcountry.com

The Patagonia Nano-Air Light Vest’s breathable synthetic insulation makes this lightweight garment functional on outings year-round. I’ve regularly grabbed it instead of other vests in my closet for Nordic skate-skiing in “milder” temps above freezing and warm sunshine.

On an early-October backpacking trip in Idaho’s White Cloud Mountains, it stayed on me not only through cool evenings and mornings in camp, but also while hiking with a full backpack uphill, off-trail, in temps in the 40s and 50s Fahrenheit, with intermittent wind. 

Both the nylon ripstop shell and the insulation have four-way stretch.

Read my full review of the Patagonia Nano-Air Vest.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these affiliate links to purchase a men’s or women’s Nano-Air Vest at backcountry.com or the vest or other products in the Nano-Air line at patagonia.com.

The Patagonia Nano-Air Jacket.
The Patagonia Nano-Air Jacket.
Patagonia Nano-Air Jacket.
Patagonia Nano-Air Jacket.

Patagonia Nano-Air Light Hybrid Jacket

$249, 10 oz./284g
backcountry.com

I’ve worn the Patagonia Nano-Air Light Hybrid Jacket for activities ranging from four straight days of backcountry skiing in the Sierra in winds gusting to 40 to 50 mph and heavily falling snow (with a shell over it when needed) to Nordic skate-skiing and snowshoeing in Idaho’s Boise Mountains on days both overcast and windy and in warm sunshine.

Its highly versatile hybrid design puts FullRange synthetic insulation, which stretches and breathes, in the front of the jacket, upper shoulders, and top sides of the sleeves, and a much more breathable, wicking, stretch, R1 Air waffle knit on the back of the sleeves, in the sides, and covering the entire back. The result is a jacket that offloads body heat about as fast as you produce it—while keeping you warm at varying levels of exertion.

There’s also a hooded version, the Nano-Air Light Hybrid Hoody ($299, 11.8 oz./338g).

Read my full review of the Patagonia Nano-Air Jacket.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these affiliate links to purchase a men’s or a women’s Patagonia Nano-Air Jacket or Nano-Air Hoody at backcountry.com or rei.com or other products in the Nano-Air line at patagonia.com.

Which puffy should you buy? See “The 12 Best Down Jackets” and
How You Can Tell How Warm a Down Jacket Is.

The Beyond Clothing Alpha Aura Jacket.
The Beyond Clothing Alpha Aura Jacket.

Beyond Clothing Alpha Aura Jacket

$180, 12 oz./340g
beyondclothing.com

On days of resort and backcountry skiing ranging from just below freezing to 10° F, Beyond Clothing’s hooded Alpha Aura Jacket demonstrated its versatility as a middle and outer layer for cool- to cold-weather activities year-round, with unique design features that improve its weather protection and durability.

The Alpha Aura distinguishes itself from similar jackets by using soft Polartec Alpha Direct loft-knit fleece, a very open, high-loft fabricthat lends the jacket good warmth for its weight while breathing supremely well—making it a good piece for hiking, walking, climbing, skiing, and similar activities year-round. It also features somewhat unique 20-denier micro ripstop nylon panels on the entire hood exterior (it’s lined with soft fleece) and the shoulders, front and back.

Without reducing the jacket’s breathability, those panels provide a significant warmth boost—especially in the hood—and durability in the shoulders for wearing a heavy pack. The full-length front zipper enables venting and zips up over your chin, while the close-fitting, non-adjustable hood stays put, turning with your head even with the jacket open. The two zippered hand pockets have a mesh lining to maintain breathability there, and they create two large, internal drop pockets—each of them spacious enough for a pair of three-season gloves or one warm, winter glove.

Read my full review of the Beyond Clothing Alpha Aura Jacket.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking this affiliate link to purchase a men’s or women’s Beyond Clothing Alpha Aura Jacket at beyondclothing.com.

The Patagonia R1 Air Full-Zip Hoody.
The Patagonia R1 Air Full-Zip Hoody.

Patagonia R1 Air Full-Zip Hoody

$179, 12.5 oz./354g
backcountry.com

Virtually no piece of outdoor apparel offers more versatility than a highly breathable, midweight insulation layer. Besides filling that bucket, Patagonia’s R1 Air Full-Zip Hoody feels soft and fits like it was custom made for your torso, as I found wearing it on summer backpacking trips of a week in Glacier National Park and two three-day hikes in the Canadian Rockies. On all three trips, it kept me warm without overheating, rarely even breaking a sweat, while hiking with a full pack, uphill and downhill, on cool mornings and in chilly, very strong wind—which speaks to how well it translates to winter activities.

The 100 percent recycled polyester jacquard fleece with hollow-core yarns and a unique zigzag pattern wicks moisture, dries lightning-fast, and is about as breathable as any middle or outer layer you’ll find. The two zippered hand pockets provide a little extra warmth and each has space for a pair of three-season gloves or one warm winter glove. The zippered chest pocket holds small items.

At 12.5 ounces/354 grams, this midweight fleece is designed for wearing as an outer or middle layer in a huge range of cool to cold temperatures, including all forms of skiing as well as snowshoeing, hiking, running, climbing, walking, and other activities.

Read my full review of the Patagonia R1 Air Full-Zip Hoody.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these affiliate links to purchase a men’s, women’s, or kids’ Patagonia R1 Air Full-Zip Hoody at backcountry.com, patagonia.com, or rei.com, or any other piece in the Patagonia R1 Air line at backcountry.com, patagonia.com, or rei.com.

The Beyond Clothing Dasche L3 Jacket.
The Beyond Clothing Dasche L3 Jacket.

Beyond Clothing Dasche L3 Jacket

$190, 14 oz./397g
beyondclothing.com

Over several cold days of ski touring from Utah’s Wasatch Range to Idaho’s Boise Mountains, with temps in the single digits and teens Fahrenheit, snow falling, and a cold wind chill at times, the Beyond Clothing Dasche L3 Jacket rarely left my body, whether serving as a middle layer skiing downhill or an outer layer skiing uphill—a testament to its breathability and versatility.

The Dasche’s hybrid vest-jacket design combines water-resistant, 80g PrimaLoft Gold Luxe synthetic insulation in the core (front and back) and shoulders and very breathable, stretchy soft-shell fabric in the sides, underarms, and lower arms—creating a jacket that traps heat effectively where your body needs that but also releases heat and moisture, where many jackets with a similar hybrid design do either one thing or the other better. My base layer always dried within minutes after my exertion level dropped. The uninsulated, stretchy, close-fitting, adjustable and stowable hood moves with your head, fits under any helmet, provides excellent coverage, and cuts some wind while breathing quite well—an ideal middle-layer hood.

For backcountry skiing or riding, climbing, snowshoeing, or hiking, I find it best for temps well below freezing—for me, it only became too warm in sunshine, calm air, and temps around freezing. Maybe best of all, it comes in under a pound and under 200 bucks.

Read my full review of the Beyond Clothing Dasche L3 Jacket.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking this affiliate link to purchase a Beyond Clothing Dasche L3 Jacket at beyondclothing.com.

The Himali Men’s Endeavor Fleece Hoodie.
The Himali Men’s Endeavor Fleece Hoodie.

Himali Men’s Endeavor Fleece Hoodie

$160, 9.2 oz./261g
himali.com

From trekking hut-to-hut in late spring through cool days of sometimes very strong wind and heavy rain on New Zealand’s Milford and Routeburn tracks and Tongariro Alpine Crossing, to January days of backcountry skiing in Idaho, both skinning uphill and skiing downhill while moving between cold shade and warm sunshine in temps ranging from single digits to the high 20s Fahrenheit, I wore this hooded, full-zip fleece jacket for hours a day, sometimes as an outer layer and much more often under a shell. I never took it off—despite sharp shifts in exertion level—and remained comfortable the entire time.

It’s one of the most versatile fleece hoodies I’ve ever used, mainly because the weight of the four-way stretch fabric gives it a balance of warmth and breathability that enables you to keep it on during periods of higher exertion without overheating, and not need to pull on another layer once your exertion level drops.

Plus, the Endeavor’s warmth and breathability helped quickly dry out my sweaty base layers—critical to staying warm and comfortable—and the athletic fit makes it a good choice for a wide range of activities like dayhiking, backpacking, running, climbing, Nordic and backcountry skiing, and walking.

Read my full review of the Himali Men’s Endeavor Fleece Hoodie.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking this affiliate link to purchase a Himali Men’s Endeavor Fleece Hoodie at himali.com.

Readers of The Big Outside get an exclusive 10 percent off any Himali purchase by using the discount code THEBIGOUTSIDE.

A Great Insulated Jacket for Extra Warmth

The Feathered Friends Helios Hooded Down Jacket.
The Feathered Friends Helios Hooded Down Jacket.

Feathered Friends Helios Hooded Down Jacket

$489, 1 lb. 1 oz./482g
featheredfriends.com

For really cold days of backcountry skiing, ski touring, snowshoeing, hiking and backpacking, and resort skiing, many of us need an insulation layer with extra warmth—to wear constantly in severe cold at low exertion levels; to pull on during brief rest breaks, at a belay, or while in camp or outside a yurt; or to have as an emergency piece in your pack. While it’s not made for breathability while being active, for incomparable warmth in a lightweight, packable puffy, I haven’t found anything that beats the Feathered Friends Helios Hooded Down Jacket.

On winter nights in the single digits outside a yurt in Idaho’s Boise Mountains, and raw, wet spring mornings camped in Idaho’s City of Rocks, this fat down jacket felt crazy warm—especially for its weight and packability, spotlighting its versatility as an outstanding down jacket for winter and a puffy that’s light and packable enough for chilly, three-season trips.

The Helios is generously stuffed with 900+-fill down, just about the highest-quality down produced, including in the comfortable, adjustable hood. The water-resistant, 20-denier Pertex Endurance LT shell fabric repels light precipitation, and the jacket has two hand pockets with overlapping stretch flaps in lieu of a zipper, plus one small, zippered inside pocket.

Read my full review of the Feathered Friends Helios Hooded Down Jacket.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking this affiliate link to purchase a men’s Feathered Friends Helios Hooded Down Jacket at featheredfriends.com.

The Best Winter Backcountry Shell Jackets and Pants

For activities like hard-charging resort skiing in falling snow, backcountry ski touring and riding, snowshoeing, climbing, and hiking, when I’m working hard for hours in wide-ranging winter temps and weather, I want a shell jacket and pants with superior breathability—so that I don’t get soaked with sweat while exerting—that also repel hours of falling snow and block most wind. The jacket must have an adjustable, helmet-compatible, brimmed hood that keeps wind and precipitation off my face and must fit comfortably over base and middle layers, allowing full range of motion. The pants should have adequate pockets and ventilate well for moving uphill. Neither should be too heavy.

The Outdoor Research Skytour AscentShell Jacket.
The Outdoor Research Skytour AscentShell Jacket.

Outdoor Research Skytour AscentShell Jacket and Bibs

Jacket: $429, 1 lb. 5.5 oz./610g
Bibs: $429, 1 lb. 9 oz./709g
backcountry.com

The Outdoor Research Skytour AscentShell Bibs.
The Outdoor Research Skytour AscentShell Bibs.

The waves of December snowstorms rolled through for days, dumping cold, dry, light powder in the mountains. In the backcountry, the skiing was epic—as were the weather conditions. That’s when high-quality shells demonstrate their value. On numerous days of ski touring through hours of heavily falling snow, temps ranging from the single digits to the teens and 20s Fahrenheit, and frequent wind, OR’s Skytour AscentShell Jacket and Bibs passed every qualifying exam to rank among the very best outerwear for winter.

The newest iteration of OR’s proprietary, three-layer, stretch AscentShell waterproof-breathable membrane performs like a hard shell but feels and moves like a soft shell. AscentShell’s impressive breathability enabled base layers to dry out completely after getting sweaty on long climbs—keeping testers comfortable in all conditions. I rarely even feel the need to open the deep pit zips, although those are a nice feature on warmer days of touring.

The jacket has four waterproof, zippered external pockets and two inside pockets, a helmet-compatible hood, and a fit that accommodates warm layers. The bibs have deep, ventilating front and side zippers, plus five zippered pockets, including two cargo and hand pockets and a smartly designed beacon pocket on the chest, as well as reinforced cuffs with a stretch-mesh internal gaiter.

Read my full review of the Outdoor Research Skytour AscentShell Jacket and Bibs.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these affiliate links to purchase the men’s or women’s Outdoor Research Skytour AscentShell Jacket and/or Skytour AscentShell Bibs at backcountry.com, rei.com, or outdoorresearch.com.

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Black Diamond Dawn Patrol Hybrid Shell and Pants

Jacket: $365, 1 lb. 2 oz./510g
blackdiamondequipment.com
Pants: $325, 1 lb. 3.5 oz./553g
blackdiamondequipment.com

BD’s Dawn Patrol Hybrid Shell and Pants have kept me dry and comfortable on countless days of backcountry skiing, in temperatures ranging from single digits with a below-zero wind chill through the high 30s, in falling snow, light rain mixed with wet snow, wind, and just plain calm, sub-freezing air. The hybrid design of both blends the brand’s proprietary BD.dry waterproof-breathable fabric with a PFC- and water-free DWR (durable, water-resistant treatment) in areas most exposed to weather—chest, hood, and shoulders in the jacket and the lower legs and seat in the pants—with highly breathable soft-shell fabric in places where our bodies dump heat and moisture, like the underarms and sides of the jacket and thighs and front of the pants.

Abundant stretch in both pieces let you move unencumbered both uphill and downhill. The jacket’s center front dual zipper features a built-in mesh panel for venting on the climb and a perforated panel on the collar for breathing through while still protecting your face. Features include two harness-compatible chest pockets that fit skins, an internal media pocket, pit zips, an adjustable, helmet-compatible hood, and hook-and-loop cuffs with a lightweight wrist gaiter.

The pants feature side zips for venting; two zippered thigh pockets, one with an internal sleeve for a beacon, and a smaller, zippered hip pocket; instep patches to guard against ski edges and crampon points; a stretch gaiter and cuffs with dual snap closures for different types of ski boots; an integrated belt for waist adjustment with internal loops for suspender compatibility; and an integrated RECCO reflector.

Read my full reviews of the Black Diamond Dawn Patrol Hybrid Shell and the Black Diamond Dawn Patrol Hybrid Pants.

BUY IT NOW You can support my work on this blog, at no cost to you, by clicking any of these affiliate links to purchase the men’s or women’s Black Diamond Dawn Patrol Hybrid Shell at blackdiamondequipment.com or backcountry.com, and the Black Diamond Dawn Patrol Hybrid Pants at blackdiamondequipment.com, backcountry.com, or rei.com.

Check out my stories “How to Dress in Layers for Winter in the Backcountry” and “12 Pro Tips For Staying Warm Outdoors in Winter,” and see all reviews of outdoor apparel at The Big Outside.

NOTE: I tested gear for Backpacker magazine for 20 years. At The Big Outside, I review only what I consider the best outdoor gear and apparel. See The Big Outside’s Gear Reviews page for categorized menus of all gear reviews and expert buying tips.

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Backpacking—and Sandbagging—Utah’s Uinta Highline Trail https://thebigoutsideblog.com/backpacking-and-sandbagging-utahs-uinta-highline-trail/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/backpacking-and-sandbagging-utahs-uinta-highline-trail/#respond Tue, 19 Nov 2024 13:43:01 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=65744 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

The strongest signal that late afternoon has begun its inexorably precipitous October slide into a freezing evening comes as my son, Nate, and I step from almost-warm sunshine into the deep shade of a peak whose shadow tops out at over 13,000 feet in eastern Utah’s High Uintas Wilderness. The wind cranks up in volume as we continue upward, wearing shell jackets with hoods up, wool hats, and gloves while carrying full backpacks uphill at a lung-busting elevation—and still feeling just marginally warm enough.

Crossing Gunsight Pass at 11,880 feet, Nate and I confer and quickly agree on modifying our goal for today: We’re not heading up to Anderson Pass and Utah’s highest mountain, Kings Peak at 13,528 feet, in the waning daylight, recognizing that we’d ultimately finish this day by headlamp, hunting around in the dark for a decent campsite in the valley on the other side of and far below Kings.

Instead, we take the trail dropping into Painter Basin, finding a camp for our first night in grass and scattered rocks on a nearly treeless plateau practically at the toe of Kings Peak, just as the mountain’s long, pyramidal shadow advances over the basin. Some three miles across at its widest point, Painter is one of the many vast, stark, high basins that define this range as much as its nearly two dozen summits over 13,000 feet.

A backpacker hiking the Uinta Highline Trail west of Red Knob Pass, High Uintas Wilderness, Utah.
My son, Nate, backpacking the Uinta Highline Trail west of Red Knob Pass, High Uintas Wilderness, Utah.

It will prove a wise decision on a trip where we’d already collaborated in sandbagging ourselves—without yet fully realizing how badly. But I’m getting a little ahead of myself.

We’ve come to backpack about 58 miles, from the Henrys Fork Trailhead—the shortest approach to Kings Peak—to the western terminus of the Uinta Highline Trail at Hayden Pass on the Mirror Lake Highway/UT 150. I’d backpacked in the High Uintas and hiked up Kings before, with my wife and daughter and a friend of our daughter’s (on this trip); but Nate had recently decided that, after living in Utah for five years (since beginning college there), he needed to finally account for the glaring omission of the state’s high point from his outdoor resume.

And we’ve both had a growing interest in the Uinta Highline Trail, which traverses the range for more than 100 miles, mostly over 10,000 feet, with eight named passes—four each exceeding 11,000 and 12,000 feet. On our four-day hike, we’ll cross seven passes, just one of them (Gunsight) not on the Uinta Highline Trail, ranging from just over 11,200 feet to the trail’s high point, Anderson Pass at around 12,700 feet. And we intend to tag Kings Peak.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my expert e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A backpacker hiking the Uinta Highline Trail west toward Dead Horse Pass in Utah's High Uintas Wilderness.
My son, Nate, backpacking the Uinta Highline Trail west toward Dead Horse Pass in Utah’s High Uintas Wilderness. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan this or any trip you read about at this blog.

One key fact about our plans: We’ve come in the first week of October, normally beyond the peak season for hiking in many Western mountain ranges because of the real prospect of snow falling or, at the least, cold rain, as well as sub-freezing temperatures at night and possibly during the days. But we saw a forecast for days of dry, unseasonably mild weather and decided to jump on it.

And as much as the forecast, we were excited about the prospect of yet another father-son adventure together—a countless number of which he, now 24, and I have shared since he was too young to remember our earliest, little-kid-appropriate trips.

More than either of us expected, we would end up, in almost equal parts, as awed by the majesty of the Uinta Highline Trail, and the High Uintas in general, as humbled by how tough it is.

Plan your next great backpacking trip in Yosemite, Grand Teton,
and other parks using my expert e-books.

 

Anderson Pass, Kings Peak, Tungsten Pass, and Porcupine Pass

We awaken before the sun reaches us at 7 a.m., at 11,400 feet in Painter Basin, to find ice crystals in water bottles and heavy frost coating everything, including sleeping bags—as will happen on all three clear, dry, cold nights we’re out here, sleeping under the stars. (We pitched the tent we brought only the first night, just in case.) Cocooned inside our fat bags, we feel none of the dampness or cold, even though the heat coming off our bags melts the frost on the shells of our bags. (See the Gear I Used section below.) We eat a hot breakfast while gazing up at a wall of 13,000-foot peaks, including Kings, burnished golden by the rising sun.

The chilly morning air provides a balanced counterpoint to the warm sun and cool breeze once we start hiking west on the Uinta Highline Trail, climbing steadily over a moonscape of rocky ground almost devoid of vegetation. Ninety minutes after leaving our camp, we drop our packs at Anderson Pass, at 12,700 feet, and after a bite, start up the mountain’s standard route, the rocky north ridge of Kings.

We’ve seen no one since yesterday afternoon on the Henrys Fork Trail, a warm, sunny Sunday, where we ran into several hunters hiking out because they’ve seen no elk (too warm) and backpackers and a few dayhikers returning from Kings Peak. So, of course, minutes after I tell Nate, “We might join a short list of people who’ve had Kings Peak to themselves,” we see two guys descending toward us; they reached the summit and are heading back to the Henrys Fork Trailhead. Like everyone else we’ve spoken with in our first 24 hours out here, they have no intention of continuing west on the Uinta Highline Trail. In our sample population of survey respondents, we were the only ones with that plan.

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A backpacker at a campsite in Painter Basin, with Kings Peak in the distance, High Uintas Wilderness, Utah.
My son, Nate, at our campsite in Painter Basin, with Kings Peak in the distance, High Uintas Wilderness, Utah.

Not surprisingly, given that it’s early October, we’ll enjoy a rare degree of solitude on most of our four days out here. Indeed, for the rest of today—a day we’ll hike about 12 miles and cross three passes, in addition to scrambling Kings—we will run into just two other pairs of backpackers, one couple and two men that could be father and son, both heading east on the Highline in the sprawling basin of Yellowstone Creek. Both say we’re the first people they’ve seen.

While a chilling wind scours Anderson Pass and the north ridge of Kings as we ascend it, we step onto the summit in mild, dead calm air. It feels like early September. So, we linger a while on the roof of Utah, drinking up the 360 of towering peaks and creek basins you could drop a small city into.

Some two hours later, a couple miles west of Anderson Pass on the Highline Trail, the sun feels so hot that we stop to zip off pant legs to convert to shorts and strip down to a single light top each. When clouds block the sun, though, it feels much cooler, and strong gusts of icy wind hit us intermittently.

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A hiker on the summit of Kings Peak, High Uintas Wilderness, Utah.
My son, Nate, on the summit of Kings Peak, High Uintas Wilderness, Utah.

“The air temp is about 50 and when the wind blows, it feels like 35,” I tell Nate. He finishes my thought: “In the sun, it feels like 70.” It’s that time of year in the mountains: We’ll stop several times today to add or strip off layers, cycling between tolerating too many layers for the sun or not wearing enough for the wind and clouds.

But by later that afternoon, those periods of sunshine feel like a distant memory. Clouds lock arms and march across the sky and cold wind buffets us without pausing to catch its breath. Squalls erupt suddenly, pelting us with graupel as we approach Tungsten Pass, at 11,400 feet—which must be the easiest on the entire Uinta Highline Trail, sitting not very many steps uphill from the basins to either side of it.

We walk across Garfield Basin, yet another vast valley of more than two dozen scattered alpine lakes, sprawling grassy meadows, and conifer forest below around 11,000 feet. Beyond a windblown cluster of tiny lakes and tarns in the upper end of the basin, we climb through switchbacks to Porcupine Pass at 12,200 feet—our third today, in addition to hiking Kings Peak—just as the sun pierces the dark armor of the overcast, throwing brilliant yellow light onto the clouds, the cliffs embracing the basin ahead of us and the lakes far below where we stand. (See lead photo at the top of this story.)

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A backpacker hiking the Uinta Highline Trail west of Anderson Pass, High Uintas Wilderness, Utah.
My son, Nate, backpacking the Uinta Highline Trail west of Anderson Pass, High Uintas Wilderness, Utah.

The scene stops us cold. Nate mutters, “Wow, that’s amazing,” or something like that. Even as the colder wind and the temperature dropping faster than the sun herald the rapid approach of another freezing night—and we can clearly see the several hundred vertical feet and perhaps as much as two miles of hiking between this pass and a prospective camp—we can’t help but linger for several minutes, clicking cameras and just quietly watching one of those moments that sear themselves into the memories from a trip.

Nate races ahead in search of a camp and I follow as quickly as I can. A little while later, not long before sunset, I join him at a patch of level dirt near a small creek several hundred feet off the trail, at around 11,500 feet in the nearly flat plateau at the upper end of this basin. There are no trees, boulders, or even rises or hollows in the terrain to temper the wind.

We lay out our pads and bags to sleep under a night sky liberally salted with twinkling specks from tiny to beaming, amid and around the wide smear of the galaxy. We count several shooting stars before nodding off.

I spotlight the High Uintas as an alternate to the Wind River Range in my story
America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips.”

 

Red Knob Pass and Dead Horse Pass

Another morning of ice in water bottles and bags wet from the overnight frost greets us when we rise shortly after 6 a.m., as the first light appears in the eastern sky. It feels colder than yesterday. Nate and I pack up hurriedly and throw down a hot breakfast, fingers numbed, eager to get moving for the warmth it’ll bring and because we have many miles to walk today.

We hike for about an hour in the deep and frigid shade of a ridge that rises to well over 12,000 feet. The wind amplifies the cold, but walking quickly, we soon warm up enough to shed our shells and warm hats; once we enter the direct sun, it feels almost balmy again.

The shade and bright sunlight meet along a high-contrast divide splicing the basin ahead of us, a snaking line moving patiently, the shade retreating at the sun’s pace. The sun’s low angle seems to make every angle in the landscape more visible, giving our eyes a superpower to see everything more clearly—every knob and twist in every ridge, every draw and hollow and creek bottom, all the throw rugs of conifer forest strewn across the basins, every subtle variation in the color spectrum of nature.

The world reveals itself to us in the morning and evening light of the low sun. I love getting on the trail this early.

Get the right gear for your trips. See “The 10 Best Backpacking Packs
and “The 10 Best Backpacking Tents.”

 

A backpacker hiking the Uinta Highline Trail west across Center Park toward Porcupine Pass, High Uintas Wilderness, Utah.
Nate backpacking the Uinta Highline Trail west across Center Park toward Porcupine Pass, High Uintas Wilderness, Utah.

The High Uintas, the highest of the few mountain ranges in the contiguous 48 states with an east-west orientation, span about 150 miles end to end, but are also broad enough to demand significant time and effort to reach the remote, upper ends of these high basins on foot. The most direct north-south trails across the range often measure about 40 miles.

And therein lies an immutable truth about finding solitude: Hike deeper into the backcountry and you’ll get beyond where most people are go, for no more simple reason than that carrying a backpack that far is both hard and time-consuming. (See my “12 Expert Tips for Finding Solitude When Backpacking.”) We see more signs of trail maintenance, like fresh cuts on blown-down trees (along those occasional stretches of the Uinta Highline in forest), than signs of people. Throughout this day, we will not see another person.

For several miles west of Porcupine Pass, we hike across this gently undulating, high basin, framed by continuous rows of mountains muscling into the sky. The Uinta Highline Trail grows faint and even disappears for long stretches—clearly not receiving enough human traffic to even beat a visible footpath into this dirt and grass. But cairns nearly as tall as an adult, rockpiles visible from a distance, help us stay on course.

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A backpacker looking west from Porcupine Pass on the Uinta Highline Trail, High Uintas Wilderness, Utah.
My son, Nate, looking west from Porcupine Pass on the Uinta Highline Trail, High Uintas Wilderness, Utah.

We climb through several switchbacks to another of the Uinta Highline Trail’s best passes, Red Knob, at 12,000 feet, overlooking the lake-filled basin of West Fork Blacks Fork Creek, nearly enclosed within a ragged horseshoe of severe, castle-like peaks. A few hundred yards in the distance, a lone mountain goat meanders along the barren, rocky ridge rising above the west side of the pass.

Ninety minutes later, after descending into and hiking up that basin, we reach the shore of windblown Dead Horse Lake, at around 10,900 feet, one of well over a thousand lakes in the High Uintas. The clouds thicken and the wind bares its teeth. The tall, foreboding cliffs and sheer buttresses that soar several hundred feet tall above the lake hint at the grueling ascent to Dead Horse Pass that lies ahead of us.

Beyond the lake, the trail immediately tilts sharply upward and weaves through blocks of talus, some easily weighing a ton or more. Then it grows even steeper and frequently consists of no more than a goat path of boot prints across sliding scree. I glance to my downhill side a few times just to mentally estimate how long a tumble might result from a slip of a foot.

A slow, steady grind brings us to Dead Horse Pass, at 11,600 feet. I tell Nate, “I think I know what killed the horse.”

 

The wind and downward arc of the air temperature puts an exclamation point on the fact that it’s 5 p.m. and daylight grows short. We take just a few minutes to drink and snack while looking back over the sea of peaks surrounding and beyond the basin of West Fork Blacks Fork Creek, and then turn around for our first look at the basin of Rock Creek ahead of us, several miles across. Then we hustle downhill, reaching Ledge Lake in under an hour, boiling water for dinner and laying out pads and bags for one last night under this megalopolis of stars.

In camp, Nate scrolls his phone screen surveying our route map, and says, “Oh, no.” I ask what that’s about and he says we have farther to walk tomorrow, our last day, than we both expected: 15 miles. And I respond with genuine surprise: “What?!”


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A backpacker enjoying the alpenglow from a campsite near the Uinta Highline Trail in Yellowstone Creek basin west of Porcupine Pass, High Uintas Wilderness, Utah.
Nate enjoying the alpenglow from our campsite near the Uinta Highline Trail in Yellowstone Creek basin west of Porcupine Pass, High Uintas Wilderness, Utah.

See all stories about Utah’s High Uintas Wilderness at The Big Outside.

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Paria Canyon—A Top 5 Southwest Backpacking Trip https://thebigoutsideblog.com/take-a-top-5-southwest-backpacking-trip-paria-canyon/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/take-a-top-5-southwest-backpacking-trip-paria-canyon/#respond Wed, 06 Nov 2024 10:00:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=26036 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Walls of searing, orange-red sandstone towered hundreds of feet overhead in a chasm at times no more than a dozen strides across. A shallow river flowed like very thin chocolate milk down the canyon, spanning it from wall to wall in spots. And the spectacle had only just begun: We were mere hours into the first day of one of the most continually stunning, multi-day canyon hikes in the Southwest: Paria Canyon.

Over five days in early spring, my family and another backpacked the 38-mile length of Paria Canyon, which straddles the border of Utah and Arizona and joins the Colorado River at Lees Ferry, the gateway to the Grand Canyon.


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A backpacker in the Paria Canyon narrows.
My son, Nate, backpacking the Paria Canyon narrows.

Lying within the 112,500-acre Paria Canyon-Vermilion Cliffs Wilderness, Paria Canyon has become famous among backpackers for its soaring walls painted wildly with desert varnish, massive red rock amphitheaters and arches, hanging gardens where the few springs in the canyon gush from rock, and campsites on sandy benches shaded by cottonwood trees.

Its tributary, Buckskin Gulch, is one of the longest, if not the longest continuous slot canyon in the Southwest.

That’s why Paria Canyon deserves to be called one of “The 10 Best Backpacking Trips in the Southwest” and, many experienced Southwest backpackers would agree, one of the top five.

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Spring and fall are the prime seasons for backpacking Paria Canyon; my family did it in the last week of March. This is a popular hike, and the time to apply for a backcountry permit reservation is around the corner if you want to backpack Paria Canyon next spring. Permits are issued to only 20 people per day, so apply for a permit reservation as soon as they become available, which is after 12 p.m. on the first of the month, three months in advance, for example, on Jan. 1 for a trip anytime in April.

View the photo gallery below for a sampling of the breathtaking scenery of Paria Canyon. Then click the link below the gallery to read my feature story about this classic trip.

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Read my stories “Not a Dull Moment: Backpacking Buckskin Gulch and Paria Canyon” and “The Quicksand Chronicles: Backpacking Paria Canyon,” which have many more photos, a video, and information on planning the trip. As with most stories about trips at The Big Outside, reading that entire story requires a paid subscription, which gives you full access to ALL stories at my blog.

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‘Let’s Talk Water:’ Backpacking the Grand Canyon’s Gems https://thebigoutsideblog.com/lets-talk-water-backpacking-the-grand-canyons-gems/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/lets-talk-water-backpacking-the-grand-canyons-gems/#comments Mon, 12 Aug 2024 19:08:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=64257 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

The April sun seems to dangle just over our heads like a giant grow light—or perhaps a very, very big and hot interrogation lamp—as we hike down the Grand Canyon’s South Bass Trail, a steep path littered with enough ankle-rolling stones to keep pulling our eyes from the unfathomable expanse of canyon beyond us back to the unstable ground at our feet. We all lumber under packs heavier than any of us usually has any reason to carry: Including more than 10 pounds of water and 11 pounds of food, mine tips the scales at around 40 pounds. Everyone else hauls a similar load.

And we will carry them thousands of feet downhill on this unkind-to-ankles footpath, eventually to search for today’s lone, uncertain source of water that we may or may not find, so that we can refill the bladders and bottles we’ve sucked empty in this desert heat, allowing us to again shoulder ungainly burdens and continue walking what will total over 14 hot miles before we set our packs down for the night.

A backpacker hiking the Tonto Trail above Serpentine Canyon, along the Gems Route in the Grand Canyon.
Todd Arndt backpacking the Tonto Trail above Serpentine Canyon, along the Gems Route in the Grand Canyon.

Some backpacking trips begin with a baptism of fire in the form of a very hard first day. (The five friends with me here have shared many such days with me and they have the markers of trauma survivors to prove it.) And some trips dish out an opening day that feels like it’s about as hard as it could possibly get until you remember that the original plan included three possible scenarios for how this day could go down, and the one you ended up with—through smart planning and a little sheer luck—was actually the middle scenario: neither the hardest nor the easiest (though even that was certainly more like “least very difficult” than “easy”).

Example: today. I’ll explain in due time.

In other words, this is a glass-half-full story—or at least, I prefer seeing it that way—an apropos metaphor given that water is so scarce in this part of the Grand Canyon that, if circumstances turned dark and we chanced upon a glass half full, we just might fight to the death over it.


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A backpacker hiking the Tonto Trail toward Topaz Canyon, along the Gems Route in the Grand Canyon.
Mark Fenton backpacking the Tonto Trail toward Topaz Canyon, along the Gems Route in the Grand Canyon.

My friends Todd Arndt, Mark Fenton, David Ports, and Pam and Mark Solon and I are backpacking for six days from the South Bass Trailhead to the Hermit Trailhead off the Grand Canyon’s South Rim, a distance of about 60 miles, most of that following a stretch of the Tonto Trail often informally called the Gems Route for the names of several tributary canyons along it, including five that we’ll cross: Ruby, Turquoise, Sapphire, Agate, and Topaz. (The western end of the Tonto Trail and Gems Route, which we will not reach on this trip, lies in Garnet Canyon, along another very remote and adventurous multi-day hike that David and I took several years ago, the Royal Arch Loop.)

The Gems Route happens to overlap with the longest, by far, segment of the 95-mile-long Tonto Trail with no bailout trail to the South Rim: the 29 unmaintained miles from Bass Canyon to Boucher Creek. The only ways out are humping 3,500 vertical feet up either the hard South Bass Trail or the infamously even-harder Boucher Trail.

Dice up the Tonto Trail—which follows a mid-canyon plateau, never approaching the South Rim—into sections delineated by trails that connect it to the South Rim and then walk those sections and you will see similarities, for sure, like the vibrantly kaleidoscopic carpets of wildflowers in spring and vistas stretching from the Colorado River to both rims.

But you’ll also discover that those cross-sections differ in three consequential ways: scenery, water access, and degree of remoteness and solitude.

The Tonto Trail’s ‘Most Difficult and Potentially Dangerous’ Section

The park’s website describes Bass to Boucher as the Tonto’s “most difficult and potentially dangerous” leg for the lack of perennial water sources. The only creeks are seasonal; at some point each spring, they dry up like the mouth of a severely dehydrated human shortly before the liver, kidneys, and brain shut down.

The most recent intel we have on water in the creeks that lie ahead of us is a ranger’s field report from more than a week ago. While it offers reasons for optimism, we don’t know with any certainty what we’ll find.

Given all of this, a reasonable, clear-eyed person might logically ask: “Why the hell would you…??” And that just might be the kind of question for which, if you’re asking it, you may never receive a satisfying answer.

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A backpacker hiking the Tonto Trail west of Hermit Canyon in the Grand Canyon.
Todd Arndt backpacking the Tonto Trail west of Hermit Canyon in the Grand Canyon. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan this or any trip you read about at this blog.

But for backpackers of a certain mindset (present company included), the notion of backpacking the most remote and lonely section of the Tonto Trail triggers an elevated level of excitement that helps one accept the prospect of carrying a pack laden with 10 or more pounds of water. Possibly day after day—or day after very hot day. With no one to blame but yourself. (Although, among this collection of dear friends and trusted backcountry partners, each gifted with a robust sense of humor and little to no inhibition, in a pinch, blaming me appears to bring them some cathartic benefit.)

Plus, several GC backpacking trips have ingrained in me the lesson that, contrary to the seeming ubiquity of the incomprehensible vastness splayed out before one’s eyes when looking out over the Grand Canyon from either of its rims, every one of my trips has possessed a character all its own—reflecting the canyon’s complex diversity, both subtle and substantial. I know that I can return here again and again and have an experience that delivers surprises, wonder, awe, and moments seared into memory—all of those emotional rewards that draw us to special places in nature.

I fully expect all of those rewards this week.

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The Tonto Trail, Bass Canyon to Boucher Creek

After carrying our overloaded packs for seven miles along the road to the South Bass Trailhead and descending that trail for 3,400 feet and nearly five miles—with a short break for lunch in a meager patch of shade falling off a boulder—we reach the lower of two junctions with the Tonto Trail. There, we drop our packs beside the trail, collect all of our empty bladders and bottles, and set out walking downhill in search of a spot called Bass Tanks, where water may exist in the real world or only in our hopes.

Not quite a mile farther down the South Bass Trail, we discover the answer to our question: a series of broad potholes filled with shallow pools of water in the otherwise dry creek bed. So we spend about 90 minutes in the hot sun, in a terrain depression that feels like a solar collector, filtering (and drinking) water to leave there carrying enough to get through tonight, tomorrow, and the next morning—just in case we don’t come upon water again until almost two days from now. We each leave there with seven to eight liters—up to about 17 pounds of water on our backs.

See “10 Epic Grand Canyon Backpacking Trips You Must Do.”

Backpackers hiking down the South Bass Trail in the Grand Canyon.
Mark Fenton and David Ports backpacking down the South Bass Trail in the Grand Canyon.

And although we’re almost rapturous over finding water at Bass Tanks, its quality—vaguely brown in color and rich in insect protein—spawns one of a few running jokes birthed on this trip: We’ll rate every water source we come upon on our newly conceived Bass Tanks Scale, as in, “Bass Tanks was a two or three, but Sapphire and Slate are possibly sevens, Boucher is an eight, and Hermit’s a solid nine!”

To explain my earlier reference to the three possible scenarios for how our first day could have gone down, I know an experienced backpacker who hiked this same route we’re following a year ago this month and, because the road to the South Bass Trailhead was still impassably mucky for any vehicle, he started by backpacking more than 20 hot and uninteresting miles along an old dirt road just to reach the trailhead—carrying water for two days. Fortunately, we didn’t have to do that.

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A backpacker overlooking the Colorado River on the Tonto Trail east of Bass Canyon, along the Gems Route in the Grand Canyon.
Mark Fenton overlooking the Colorado River on the Tonto Trail east of Bass Canyon, along the Gems Route in the Grand Canyon.

Also, because I know a guy who knows someone who knows two young guys working jobs on the South Rim who were happy to pocket some extra cash shuttling us most of the way to the trailhead, we also avoided almost five hours of shuttling our two cars between our start and finish points. But we didn’t have four-wheel-drive vehicles for the last seven miles of road to the South Bass Trailhead, so we had to walk that—giving us the middle of three possible distance scenarios that we could have faced today.

Further working in our favor, we’ve arrived in the second week of April, a time when the stars normally align as closely as they ever do for this hike: Snow has melted off the South Rim, allowing the dirt road to the South Bass Trailhead to get as passable as it gets, while seasonal springs and creeks along this part of the Tonto often haven’t dried up yet and public enemy number one in the Grand Canyon—Mr. Heat—has not yet started bubbling up to the oppressive daytime highs that can appear in April and more commonly by May.

But Mr. Heat throws a wicked curve, and the canyon is his home field, so it surprised no one in this group of seasoned canyon hikers to see the forecast promising increasingly hotter days this week.

The Grand Scenic Divide

Not far east of Bass Canyon on the Tonto Trail, we finally call it a day at an obviously pre-used camp on a broad point on a long ridge named the Grand Scenic Divide. Not far beyond our camp, the ground tilts sharply downward, plunging a thousand feet to the Colorado River. Tired but not wasted by the day, we pitch tents, fire up stoves, eat dinners, and then sit around while the evening sun takes its sweet time gently basting the far side of the canyon with golden light that intensifies any color on which it settles.

Across the river, colossal rock monoliths stand in a disorderly row, separated by deep and wide chasms. Just within our view without turning our heads lie several named features: two each of temples, castles, and side canyons and at least one amphitheater, all of which would dwarf the world’s tallest skyscrapers—and that’s just within our infinitesimally tiny fragment of the entire Grand Canyon.

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A backpacker hiking the Tonto Trail west of Hermit Canyon in the Grand Canyon.
Todd Arndt backpacking the Tonto Trail west of Hermit Canyon in the Grand Canyon.

Soon, a sound begins to rise from us, quickly building in volume and enthusiasm into a cascade of old memories and tales of recent adventures; of fatigue and relief that the day wasn’t even harder; of sore feet and shoulders and all of us having to stop hiking more than once today to extract some lance-like cactus needle that had penetrated a shoe to pierce flesh, leaving a few with wounds trickling blood.

We all slide chin-deep into the hot bath water of unbreakable friendships and an oceanic appreciation for the gift of sharing such an indelibly beautiful place with such good, good people.

Then we dive eagerly into yet another conversation about how to plan the next day’s water—a theme destined to resurface repeatedly all week. Someone will suddenly say, “Let’s talk water,” prompting all to drop everything else to focus full attention on our shared obsession with finding enough of it to survive. Which seems legit and spotlights how having to carry 10 to 20 pounds of this critical natural resource at times grants this topic authority to cut the line ahead of all other questions on your mind.

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Serpentine Canyon to Ruby Canyon

Prickly pear cacti flowers along the Tonto Trail west of Sapphire Canyon in the Grand Canyon.
Prickly pear cacti flowers along the Tonto Trail west of Sapphire Canyon in the Grand Canyon.

In glorious early-morning light that seems to make the immense landscape surrounding us even taller and deeper, we leave our camp on the Grand Scenic Divide shortly after 7 a.m., taking advantage of cooler temperatures.

Already, this most-remote section of the Tonto Trail reveals evidence of how little human traffic it receives. Cacti and other malevolent desert vegetation overgrow the trail in many places; we step over or around prickly pear cacti—many of them with luminously red or yellow flowers bursting open—and unavoidably plow through brush that soon leaves our shins so scratched they resemble a four-year-old child’s Etch-a-Sketch art.

At the rim of Ruby Canyon, I stop to slowly pan my eyes up and down it, always astonished by the size of these side canyons. We read and hear mostly about the Grand Canyon’s depth (over a mile), width (up to 18 miles), and length (277 miles). But the sense of its breadth and scale attributes just as much to some 64 tributary canyons of the Colorado within the Grand Canyon—any one of which would be the most beautiful canyon in at least 40 other states.

I turn to Todd, who’s stopped beside me, and say, “When you first get to one of these side canyons and think you’re at it, you’re not really at it yet.” “Really true,” Todd says with a nod. He and I have hiked around enough of these tributary canyons in The Big Ditch to understand that the spot directly across it from where you stand may lie only a quarter-mile away as the raven flies, but you might walk three or five trail miles to get there. And that long walk is often slowed by the need to hike carefully down and up steep canyon walls of crumbling earth and ledges of shattered rock.

A backpacker hiking the Tonto Trail into Serpentine Canyon, along the Gems Route in the Grand Canyon.
Todd Arndt backpacking the Tonto Trail into Serpentine Canyon, along the Gems Route in the Grand Canyon. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan this or any trip you read about at this blog.

If every land mass on Earth resembled the Grand Canyon, we bipedal primates might never have evolved.

We arrive at Ruby Canyon at lunchtime to the happy sight of clear water in shallow potholes and a small but steady flow upstream from the trail crossing, convincing us to make our home for the night in the empty tent sites on a shelf above the creek bed. In late afternoon, Todd, David, Fenton and I explore more than a mile up the shaded canyon, below burnt umber cliffs soaring hundreds of feet overhead, immersing ourselves within the enormity of the relatively small world of this obscure and remote chasm, one of dozens of tributary canyons within the far larger world of the Grand Canyon.

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Ruby Canyon to Sapphire Canyon

In the darkness of early morning, before anyone has risen, I’m awakened by the sound of wind and light showers that last about an hour; when daylight arrives, we’ll see a dusting of snow on cliffs just below the South Rim, before it melts. Yes, it does occasionally rain and snow in the Grand Canyon. The shower cools the air and leaves a merciful breeze in its wake that accompanies us on the steep climb out of Ruby Canyon, the Tonto Trail again weaving up through a maze of ledges and cacti to the plateau.

Backpackers at a campsite in Ruby Canyon, along the Gems Route in the Grand Canyon.
Dawn light above our campsite in Ruby Canyon, along the Gems Route in the Grand Canyon.

About an hour past Ruby, David and I stop to enjoy the view from a rock ledge at the brink of the void more than a thousand feet above the brown Colorado. The morning light conducts its daily ritual of marching like a vast army of ants over the landscape. Since my first hike in the canyon more than three decades ago, I’ve always been hypnotized by how, as the sun inches across the sky, shadows appear unpredictably across terrain so vertiginous and multi-dimensional that the moving light plays tricks on the eyes, constantly appearing to rearrange the landscape in a shell game with topography.

If you blindfolded yourself and sat down for an hour or two, then pulled off the blindfold, you might understandably wonder, “How did I get here?”

At Turquoise Creek, we find pools but no longer the flowing water that a ranger reported 10 days ago. We’d planned to camp here tonight but decide to push on a few miles to Sapphire Creek because we know today will be the coolest day of the week and we’re facing hotter days ahead.

At Sapphire, we find what, out here, feels like a desert oasis: a small but flowing creek and several large pools along it, the deepest nearly a foot. We all lie down in cool but not frigid downstream pools. The wind kicks up and we watch another sunset paint the canyon in a steadily shifting lightscape for a couple of hours.

In the two days since turning off the South Bass Trail, we’ve seen no other people out here.

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Sapphire Canyon to Topaz Canyon

“I don’t think I’ve ever had a desert night as calm and serene as last night,” Mark Solon says to me after we rise with first light at around 5 a.m. on our fourth morning, everyone eager to start hiking before that hothead Mr. Heat crashes our party. Sleeping under the stars, we saw yet another vivid star show after the moon set, the Milky Way looking almost like a puddle of spilt milk streaked across the sky.

Leaving Sapphire Canyon, the Tonto Trail winds upward, throwing mysteries at us as we try to discern the route in places where it disappears on the ground. Where the trail scales the canyon walls, we find small cairns often enough to stay on course. But on the Tonto Plateau, where cairns lie farther apart and the path grows faint or just evaporates, we occasionally lose it. Then our phone-based digital maps steer us back on course.

If the Tonto Trail could be said to have a mind, you can learn to read its mind and understand where it will lead—quickly discerning, for starters, that if you turn up or down a dry wash, you are going the wrong way. On the plateau (as opposed to when zigzagging up and down canyon walls), the trail almost always meanders along or close to a contour, finding the path of least resistance. Still, we learn not to assume that it will never choose a path of maximum resistance because, now and then, that assumption sets you up for maximum disappointment.

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Backpackers hiking the Tonto Trail east of Sapphire Canyon, along the Gems Route in the Grand Canyon.
Mark Fenton, David, and Todd backpacking the Tonto Trail east of Sapphire Canyon, along the Gems Route in the Grand Canyon. Click photo to see all stories about backpacking in the Grand Canyon at The Big Outside.

At Slate Creek, we find pools up to several inches deep of the clearest water we’ve seen so far by walking just minutes upstream from the trail crossing. We huddle, eating lunch and chugging water, in a patch of “hard shade” below a rock ledge that’s three to four feet wide when we arrive in mid-morning and shrinks to nothing as the sun reaches its apex directly overhead at midday.

Driven off by Mr. Heat, we hike another few miles, carrying extra water to camp out on the Tonto Plateau again. We first stop at flat spots that have obviously been used by backpackers, but by late afternoon move on a half-mile farther to flat ground that’s already in shade hours sooner than our first spot will be.

In early evening, two backpackers pass by heading in the opposite direction and we exchange waves and a little trail beta with the first people we’ve seen in three days. Another calm, mild night of a dense Milky Way settles in.

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Topaz Canyon to Monument Canyon

The morning light flits from the top layers of one gargantuan rock wall to the next in its ritual of the ages, slowly bringing the canyon’s complex geology to life again, as we depart camp in staggered starts beneath a sky achingly blue with downy wisps of high clouds, everyone hiking before 7 a.m. to get a head start on the heat.

As it does along much of its length, the Tonto Trail repeatedly brings us near the brink of the cliffs that drop a vertical quarter-mile to the Colorado, which glows in the low-angle sunlight between the black walls of the canyon’s Inner Gorge. We descend into and cross Topaz Canyon, then start walking upstream along Boucher Creek, a perennial waterway lined with greenery, with some of the clearest water we’ve seen. We pass campsites flanked by near cliffs that must keep this canyon bottom in shade for hours a day—prime Grand Canyon real estate.

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A backpacker hiking the Tonto Trail in Monument Canyon in the Grand Canyon.
Todd Arndt backpacking the Tonto Trail in Monument Canyon in the Grand Canyon.

We part ways with Mark Fenton and David, who are hiking out today via the steep and rough Boucher Trail, while the Solons, Todd, and I will continue to Monument Creek for our final backcountry night.

Passing one backpacker on the Tonto between Boucher and Hermit, we reach perennial Hermit Creek, the largest on our route, which nurtures a lush garden at the bottom of its steep-walled, narrow canyon. We walk several minutes downstream to the four-foot waterfall pouring between two boulders into a pool probably chest-deep and 15 feet across—possibly one of the Grand Canyon’s finest swimming holes.

 

Not sure this is for you? See my stories “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be,” “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” and “5 Questions to Ask Before Trying a New Outdoors Adventure,” and this menu of all stories offering expert backpacking tips at The Big Outside.

Want my help planning the details of this trip, including an itinerary appropriate for your group? See my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you plan this or any trip you read about at this blog.

See “9 Epic Grand Canyon Backpacking Trips You Must Do,” “How to Get a Permit to Backpack in the Grand Canyon,” and all stories about backpacking in the Grand Canyon at The Big Outside.

The Gear I Used See my reviews of the outstanding backpack, ultralight tent, sleeping bag, ultralight down jacket, trekking poles, air mattress, stove, and headlamp I used on this trip.

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Backpacking Southern Utah’s Owl and Fish Canyons https://thebigoutsideblog.com/backpacking-southern-utahs-owl-and-fish-canyons/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/backpacking-southern-utahs-owl-and-fish-canyons/#respond Mon, 01 Jul 2024 13:52:20 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=63707 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

The wind blows a steady warning blast heralding the meaner gusts forecast for tonight as we begin backpacking down the rugged “trail,” such as it is, into Owl Canyon, in the Cedar Mesa area of southern Utah’s Bears Ears National Monument. In the first week of May, the four of us wear pants and shell jackets over a couple of top layers—it feels that chilly.

Beginning in a dry draw on the nearly flat desert plateau, the route soon reaches the canyon rim and plunges downward. We scramble on all fours around and between boulders and step cautiously down the steep canyon wall of sand and broken rocks. For long stretches, we take short steps inching down slickrock slabs, scoping out the lowest-angle stone ramps to avoid slipping—although the usual consequence would be no worse than a hard landing on our asses.


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A backpacker hiking in upper Fish Canyon, Bears Ears National Monument, Utah.
My wife, Penny, backpacking in upper Fish Canyon, Bears Ears National Monument, Utah.

Before long, we drop far enough below the canyon rim to escape most of the wind; the air suddenly feels more calm, though still cool. We all shed our jackets and resume the rocky, wildly circuitous descent, weaving around flash-flood debris that fills much of the narrow canyon bottom. Tangled knots of crushed and unrecognizable vegetation wrapped around standing tree trunks, boulders bigger than a car, and creek banks eroded 10 feet or more above the creek bed, indicating the high-water mark, all speak to the impressively powerful ferocity of periodic flash floods that rip down the upper section of this canyon, where now we see no sign of water, not even cracked mud.

My wife, Penny, our friends Pam and Mark Solon, and I are backpacking the Owl and Fish canyons loop in Cedar Mesa in southeastern Utah’s Bears Ears National Monument.

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Backpackers in a camp in Owl Canyon, Bears Ears National Monument, Utah.
Our camp in Owl Canyon, Bears Ears National Monument, Utah. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan this or any trip you read about at this blog.

Located in one of the least-populated parts of the country—the trailhead lies more than 40 road miles from the closest town, Blanding—the loop is about 15 to 17 miles (I explain the discrepancy in the Take This Trip section at the bottom of this story, which requires a paid subscription to The Big Outside to view) and as shockingly scenic as it is adventurous. Over three days, we’ll hike below tall, red cliffs, towers, and natural arches, over rippled slickrock slabs, around pour-offs and seasonal waterfalls, amid flowering cacti and other prickly desert flora and the greenery of cottonwoods and other vegetation flourishing in the lower reaches of both canyons, nurtured by a surprising abundance of seasonal, clear water that creates an unexpected desert oasis.

Up to 700 feet deep, these canyons are reminiscent of better-known places in southern Utah like the Needles and Maze districts of Canyonlands National Park, Bryce Canyon and Capitol Reef national parks, and the canyons of the Escalante River. And yet, Owl and Fish attract a fraction of the attention of southern Utah’s popular hiking destinations and considerably less demand for a backcountry permit (details in the Take This Trip section of this story, below). Owl and Fish lie within the Fish Creek Canyon Wilderness Study Area (or WSA), which means these canyons possess wilderness characteristics, making them eligible for wilderness designation by Congress and permanent protections.

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A backpacker in Owl Canyon, Bears Ears National Monument, Utah.
Mark Solon backpacking in Owl Canyon, Bears Ears National Monument, Utah.

We follow the trail through the complex topography in the belly of Owl Canyon, where small, shallow pools and the flowing creek have appeared. The route takes a nearly mile-long detour up and back down a dry tributary canyon to avoid a big pour-off—and to a small pond at the base of that pour-off’s trickling cascade. Not far beyond that, we stop at an established campsite just upstream from a horseshoe bend, at about 5,200 feet.

Evening fusillades of spitting rain usher us into our tents before dark. Dusk brings calm air and a silence broken only by the chatter of birds amid the abundant trees around our camp. But the wind has not yet turned in for the night. It kicks up again as I’m starting to doze off and blows with fury. Like flash floods of air, tree- and tent-rattling gusts stampede through our camp for a couple of hours.

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Nevills Arch

The temperature hovers around 40 degrees Fahrenheit when we emerge from our tents a bit after 6 a.m. on our second day. It’s still cool when we begin hiking soon after 8 a.m., layered up in jackets with hoods up and gloved hands in the wind—which, fortunately, has greatly diminished since last night—and the deep, chilly shade of canyon walls. I like hiking in these conditions: You can dress for this and not break a sweat.

Wildflowers below Nevills Arch in lower Owl Canyon, Bears Ears National Monument, Utah.
Wildflowers below Nevills Arch in lower Owl Canyon, Bears Ears National Monument, Utah.

Before long, we reach the stone amphitheater that houses Nevills Arch with perfect timing, just as the sun begins peering over the cliff tops, firing yellow laser beams through gaps in those walls in a way that seems to infuse them with a light of their own even as they cast long, heavy shadows.

While Nevills commands center stage—spanning 140 feet, perched high above the canyon bottom—its supporting cast hardly fades into the background. On both sides of the arch rises a rampart of cliffs and towers with bulbous crowns balanced improbably atop slender necks of crumbling stone. Cacti and other desert flowers brighten the brown earth. After hiking closer for a good look at Nevills, we follow the trail across the outer edge of the amphitheater, watching the arch and towers all seem to shape-shift, looking like completely different formations from every angle.

Beyond Nevills, where Owl Canyon broadens, and with the sun climbing higher, we lose all shade; we can feel the sun’s heat, but the air remains cool and breezy. At the sun-bathed and dry confluence of the two canyons, we turn up Fish.

Less than two miles upstream of the confluence, we begin passing frequent, large pools of water and a clear, flowing creek. Like the middle stretch of Owl, Fish shows off groves of mature cottonwood trees, their leaves electrified in the sunshine, the greenery a striking contrast against the deep burgundy of canyon walls replete with detached towers, rippled slickrock, and an array of sculptured and weathered rock.

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Backpackers hiking in lower Owl Canyon, Bears Ears National Monument, Utah.
Backpacking in lower Owl Canyon, Bears Ears National Monument, Utah.

About halfway up Fish Canyon, we settle into an established camp on a bench above big, shallow pools in the creek. Although the map indicates a natural arch located somewhere across the canyon, Mark, Pam, and I walk up and down the canyon but fail to find it. The sun feels intense until the moment it slips behind the canyon wall, but the temperature never gets uncomfortably hot.

After sunset, the wind dies and alpenglow lights up the cliffs above us. Sleeping out under the stars, we’ll all awaken during the dark night, after moonset, to a Milky Way glowing with a rare luminescence against a coal-black sky riddled with stars—a sight you’ll only enjoy in a few remote parts of the Lower 48 with skies as dark as this corner of southeastern Utah.

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Fish Canyon

After a calm and clear night, we’re up boiling water for breakfast soon after 6 a.m. and packing up our gear. Mark and Pam roll out of camp by around 7 a.m., facing a long day’s drive home; Penny and I get on the trail before 8 a.m.

The morning light inches slowly down the faces of Fish Canyon’s cliffs and towers as Penny and I hike up a cool, breezy, shaded canyon bottom. At first, we’re mostly following the cairned route up the creek or alongside it, sometimes crossing over between the two banks, in gentle terrain.

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A backpacker hiking up Fish Canyon in Bears Ears National Monument, Utah.
My wife, Penny, backpacking up Fish Canyon, Bears Ears National Monument, Utah.

The Gear I Used See my reviews of the outstanding backpack, tent, sleeping bag, down jacket, ultralight wind shell, trekking poles, stove, zip-off soft-shell pants, and air mattress (I used this one and my wife used this one) I used on this trip.

See “The 12 Best Backpacking Trips in the Southwest,” “The 5 Southwest Backpacking Trips You Should Do First,” and all stories about backpacking in southern Utah at The Big Outside.

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The Best Backpacking Trip in the Wind River Range? Yup https://thebigoutsideblog.com/the-best-backpacking-trip-in-the-wind-river-range-yup/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/the-best-backpacking-trip-in-the-wind-river-range-yup/#comments Fri, 03 May 2024 13:10:38 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=63044 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

As my friend Chip Roser and I reach Pyramid Lake, in a magnificent stone bowl at 10,571 feet in Wyoming’s Wind River Range, nestled below its namesake peak and the attention-grabbing, soaring face of the 12,000-footer Mount Hooker, the overcast grows increasingly darker. We both look up at the sky, probably sharing the same thought: wondering when the thunderstorms and strong winds the forecast had warned of would finally catch us out here; and hoping to stay dry at least until getting our tents up—and with luck, until after we’ve eaten dinner.

But the rain and wind never materialize—not today, anyway. Instead, although dark-bellied clouds continue shuffling past overhead, the air turns dead calm, temperatures remain mild, and we watch the dappled sunlight dance around the horseshoe of cliffs, spires, and rocky peaks surrounding our camp.


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A backpacker above Pyramid Lake in the Wind River Range, Wyoming.
Chip Roser backpacking above Pyramid Lake in the Wind River Range, Wyoming.

We had arrived this morning at Big Sandy Campground, trailhead for the disorientingly vertiginous and chronically popular Cirque of the Towers, to the sight of more cars and trucks parked there than I think I’ve seen since the first time I laid eyes on the Cirque—and felt the electric thrill of seeing that jagged skyline of peaks hit me like a shock wave—30 years ago this very month (possibly even in the same week or on the same date, which I no longer remember, except that it was August). Along the last half-mile of road before the parking lot, determined drivers had corkscrewed vehicles into every roadside nook and cranny. In truth, though, Big Sandy has been growing increasingly popular for many years and open spaces in the dirt parking lot for the campground and trailhead have long been a rare find in summer.

Plus, we arrived on the Sunday beginning the third week of August. To come here on this day and not expect to see this place jammed with vehicles is akin to expecting hours of solitude each day on the Tour du Mont Blanc in August or going to St. Peter’s Cathedral in the Vatican and not expecting to find a line. (The cathedral metaphor rings with a sense of aptness for a hike in the Winds.)

See “The 10 Best Backpacking Trips in the Wind River Range.”

A backpacker above Macon Lake and Washakie Lake in the Wind River Range, Wyoming.
Chip Roser above Macon Lake and Washakie Lake in the Wind River Range, Wyoming.

Our first day on the trail met the expectations set at the parking lot: By the end of our several hours of hiking to Pyramid Lake, we probably passed 50 or 60 people, most within the first few hours. But I feel happy for every one of them and I’m not surprised they would choose this relatively easy valley trail that passes a series of heart-stopping lakes below huge granite walls, all of them a campsite to die for. As a woman in one of the pods of backpackers we passed astutely observed to us, “You just camp at whatever one you feel like stopping at, they’re all gorgeous.”

But I know that we can keep walking deeper into the Wind River Range and reach areas where solitude comes with the territory—and the effort. And we will accomplish that by our second morning on this trip.

I’ve returned yet again to the Wind River Range—the fourth straight summer I’ve backpacked in these mountains, despite the fact that they lie several hours of driving from my home—building on my personal history of at least eight backpacking and climbing trips here (my best estimate; I’ve lost track) going back three decades.

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A backpacker enjoying the dawn light at a campsite by Pyramid Lake in the Wind River Range, Wyoming.
Chip Roser enjoying the dawn light at our campsite by Pyramid Lake in the Wind River Range, Wyoming.

Chip and I will explore an area of the Winds he has not yet seen and fill in some blank spots in my mental map of the southern Winds—all while I grapple with the question of whether the route we have undertaken deserves the title of “the best backpacking trip in the Wind River Range,” a claim that feels fraught with the potential to invite ardent disagreement in a range where any multi-day hike would rank among the best on almost any backpacker’s personal life list.

We will spend four days—wishing we had planned just one more—on a meandering route that will cross four passes on the Continental Divide and bring us past numerous mountain lakes, each of them pretty enough to want to camp at, though we’ll have to choose just three.

During that night at our camp a short walk from the shore of Pyramid Lake, I step out of my tent and see the sky virtually pulsating with millions of specks of light, some constellations I can identify and many that I can’t, and the Milky Way glowing across the heavens.

There’s not a breath of wind, the temperature feels no lower than 50 degrees Fahrenheit, and it’s so quiet that I suspect two people could conduct a conversation from opposite sides of this lake at normal speaking volume.

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Pyramid Peak, Hailey Pass, and Washakie Lake

As Chip and I descend off Pyramid Peak toward 11,160-foot Hailey Pass, the wind that began blowing hard this morning and seemed eager to hurl us off the peak’s summit just a half-hour ago, now dials up its speed as this river of fast-moving air squeezes through the pass. The strong wind is hard to walk in; gusts literally shove me hard enough several times to nearly send me stumbling off the trail. The wind’s force hardly abates after we cross the pass and descend through countless short switchbacks, stepping cautiously on this steep trail down a slope of loose, sliding scree and pebbles.

Even once we reach the flatter terrain of the valley, the wind still pummels us. We stop to chat for a few minutes with a couple on their way up to Hailey and I tell them, “Trim your sails before you go up there.”

We arose on our second morning as the predawn sun was igniting the broken clouds over Pyramid Lake. We started hiking at 8 a.m., taking an off-trail route from the lake to Hailey Pass that’s more direct than backtracking down the Pyramid Peak Trail to the Hailey Pass Trail—a route that also positioned us to scramble to the 12,030-foot summit of Pyramid Peak, earning its hawk’s-eye view of the valley we hiked up yesterday and of the long arc of the Continental Divide stretching for miles to the north and south.

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A backpacker hiking the Washakie Pass Trail in the Wind River Range, Wyoming.
Chip Roser backpacking the Washakie Pass Trail in the Wind River Range, Wyoming. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan this trip.

Beyond Hailey Pass, on the east side of the Divide, we follow the Bears Ears Trail, gawking at one towering granite cliff and monolith after another, an alpine rock climber’s paradise. The trail climbs a few hundred feet above long Grave Lake, which sparkles in the bright sunshine, then drops to the lakeshore, passing through forest and meadows and crossing a sandy beach. We walk up the gentle and very pretty valley of the South Fork Wind River and then turn onto the Washakie Pass Trail.

At Washakie Lake, at 10,365 feet, we find an established campsite near the lake’s west end, more than the required 200 feet from the lake. We encountered just five other backpackers during our seven hours of hiking from Pyramid Lake today; several more arrive to camp near Washakie Lake, but the abundant space here keeps everyone beyond earshot and mostly out of sight of one another. Some trees help to partially break the wind, which blows hard throughout the evening: We hear great cannonballs of air fired from somewhere high above us that slowly build in volume until each one tears through our camp with an awful roar, violently shaking our solo tents (which hold up) and sometimes waking us.

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Washakie Pass, Texas Pass, and the Cirque of the Towers

Even after a night of ferocious gusts that made sleep an elusive quarry, the wind gains ferocity, swirling and buffeting us from all sides as we depart Washakie Lake early on our third morning and climb toward the highest point of our trip, 11,611-foot Washakie Pass. At times, we’re both hit by blasts of air and stumble before catching ourselves.

Wearing pants, two base layers and shell jackets against the wind under a gray sky, Chip and I joke about how we might get lifted off the ground at the pass and deposited right back at Washakie Lake to start this climb all over again. But we avoid that fate, walking into a headwind to cross the Divide back to the west side, descending through alpine meadows dotted with wildflowers and boulders almost in competing numbers. At the Hailey Pass Trail junction, 1,200 feet lower than Washakie Pass and back in the valley where we began yesterday, the wind has all but disappeared, the sun shines warmly, and we strip down to shorts and T-shirts.

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A backpacker descending from Texas Pass into the Cirque of the Towers in the Wind River Range, Wyoming.
Chip Roser descending from Texas Pass into the Cirque of the Towers in the Wind River Range, Wyoming.

After rock hopping over Washakie Creek, we start up the Shadow Lake Trail through a broad, nearly flat valley where the creek bounds playfully over rocks and small cascades and flows smoothly through bends, moving like a dancer on a stage: In the Wind River Range, the mountains and lakes play the leading roles and draw the most attention, but the creeks and rivers play critical supporting roles. Up the valley, the “back side” of the Cirque of the Towers displays a long wall of teeth snarling at the sky.

The maintained trail terminates near Shadow Lake, where we pick up a good use trail up to Billy’s Lake at over 10,600 feet. The trail traces Billy’s lakeshore and continues up this narrow alpine valley walled by granite. Chip says, “This may be the prettiest valley we’ve seen.”


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We follow the faint path past Barren Lake and turn a corner to overlook Texas Lake and the horseshoe of cliffs and talus slopes that comprise the head of this basin. Above the lake, a dauntingly steep slope of talus and scree—basically, a very slow rockslide of busted-up stone—rises to Texas Pass. We can see perhaps 10 people at various points on their climb up that rockpile.

Occasional cairns and a visible, if faint path pounded into the loose rocks by other backpackers leads us upward to Texas Pass, at over 11,400 feet, our second 11,000-foot pass today. After last night’s weather and then watching clouds race across the sky all day, we had feared we would see little of the Cirque of the Towers when we finally got here. But our timing proves serendipitous: An unobstructed view of that famous skyline of granite monoliths, arrayed in a long, unbroken arc, unfurls before us.

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A backpacker hiking the Shadow Lake Trail in the Wind River Range, Wyoming.
Chip Roser backpacking the Shadow Lake Trail in the Wind River Range, Wyoming.

I’ve hiked through the Cirque at least a few times since that first visit 30 years ago, most recently, prior to today, on the Wind River High Route, when three friends and I entered via the common route over Jackass Pass, now visible across the Cirque from us, and exited the Cirque hiking off-trail over New York Pass, which lies barely more than a half-mile as the crow flies southwest of Texas Pass but a slightly greater distance if you’re tracing the wriggling Divide.

And while repeated visits have, for me, reduced the voltage of that initial electric thrill of seeing the Cirque, this new and different prospect resurrects some of that feeling I had that first time walking over Jackass.

A good friend who has hiked in countless incredible landscapes, many of them with me over nearly a quarter-century, backpacked over Texas Pass just a year ago and subsequently wrote to me calling it “the best view I’ve ever had from a pass.” Perhaps he was guilty of recency bias, but not of unwarranted hyperbole: This view of the Cirque and the walk down into it from Texas Pass just might deserve recognition as the best overlook of one of the most soul-stirring mountain vistas in America.

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A backpacker descending from Texas Pass into the Cirque of the Towers in the Wind River Range, Wyoming.
Chip Roser descending from Texas Pass into the Cirque of the Towers in the Wind River Range, Wyoming. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan this trip.

An unmaintained but surprisingly good dirt path, steep at times but much less so than the ascent to Texas Pass from Texas Lake, leads down to Lonesome Lake. Minutes after we reach the lake, the sky once again suddenly darkens, swiftly followed by thunder and lightning. The rain comes so lightly at first that we assume it might amount to nothing. But when the gray veil obliterates the peaks from sight, I suggest to Chip that we get a tent up fast.

Seconds after we finish hurriedly pitching it, the rain begins pounding our thin walls; we can barely hear one another over the drumming downpour. But the tent keeps us warm and dry while we wait about 30 minutes for the thunderstorm to pass. Then we quickly pack up the tent and resume hiking. The clouds give way—mostly—to blue sky and warm sunshine as we climb, repeatedly turning around to take in the panorama. Not long after we took temporary refuge in a tent, we walk over Jackass Pass at 10,760 feet, making our third crossing of the Continental Divide today and fourth of this trip.

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See all stories about backpacking in the Wind River Range at The Big Outside.

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Find the best gear, expert buying tips, and best-in-category reviews at my Gear Reviews page.

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Backpacking the Arizona Trail’s Passage 16 in a Superbloom https://thebigoutsideblog.com/backpacking-the-arizona-trails-passage-16-in-a-superbloom/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/backpacking-the-arizona-trails-passage-16-in-a-superbloom/#respond Tue, 09 Apr 2024 11:00:03 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=62728 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

We’re not even five minutes into our backpacking trip when a sound all too familiar startles us: a long, scratchy rattling noise. We stop abruptly and Pam says, “There it is,” pointing at the rattlesnake lying along the railroad tracks that our trail briefly follows before it moves away from the tracks to trace a winding route down the desert valley of the brown, silted Gila River in southern Arizona.

After admiring the snake’s noise-making prowess and size for a few moments—from a safe distance—we walk a wide berth around this fellow so as not to agitate him any further and continue on one of the most unexpectedly and consistently pretty multi-day hikes I’ve taken in recent memory, on a section of the Arizona Trail.

Just a few days ago, the idea of backpacking this AZT section had not even popped up on our radar.


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Backpackers hiking the Arizona Trail Passage 16 in the Gila River Canyon.
Pam and Mark Solon backpacking the Arizona Trail Passage 16 in the Gila River Canyon.

Forced to abandon plans to backpack in some canyons off southern Utah’s Cedar Mesa plateau by a succession of early spring storms that wracked all of Utah (and dropped many feet of snow upon the Wasatch ski resorts—so there was that redeeming value), my friends Mark and Pam Solon and I were driving south still in search of a Plan B when we walked into the Bureau of Land Management (BLM) office in St. George, Utah, and found an employee there who had thru-hiked the Arizona Trail. He called the AZT’s passage 16 through the Gila River Canyons one of his favorite sections. And when we subsequently consulted the AZT website, we found it describes that section’s scenery as among the trail’s best outside the Grand Canyon.

Thanks to our decision to step into that BLM office and good fortune in finding that worker on that morning, we had our Plan B.

The Arizona Trail Passage 16

A day after that serendipitous encounter in St. George, we set out in mid-morning on a three-day, out-and-back hike along the AZT’s passage 16 in temps around 60 degrees Fahrenheit on April Fools’ Day, with a slight, cool breeze—conditions that wouldn’t be better if we had been able to custom order the weather. It feels like the perfect antidote to a particularly long and cold winter.

As it turns out, our arrival here proves serendipitously timed as well.

We follow the winding trail over rolling desert hills where saguaro rise to 20 feet or taller and inhabit the land like people in a semi-crowded park. The needle clusters of cholla cacti appear to glow in the almost blinding sunshine. Barrel cacti and other thorny plants share common ground space.

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Backpackers hiking the Arizona Trail Passage 16 in the Gila River Canyon.
Pam and Mark Solon backpacking the Arizona Trail Passage 16 in the Gila River Canyon.

But even amid those grandly conspicuous flora, the wildflowers dominate the landscape and command our attention, covering the ground in a profusion of colors. We’d been told that our arrival has coincided with a rare superbloom, a phenomenon somewhat unique to the deserts of Arizona and southern California that occurs when precipitation and temperatures in preceding months cause numerous species of wildflowers to germinate and blossom almost simultaneously in early spring. Bursting from the earth in unison like a flash mob, their vivid colors carpet the ground for miles in all directions. Prominent are Mexican gold poppies, bluedicks, and purple lupines.

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A backpacker hiking the Arizona Trail Passage 16 in the Gila River Canyon.
Pam Solon backpacking the Arizona Trail Passage 16 in the Gila River Canyon.

We walk through a dense garden of plant life that belies the aridity of this southern Arizona Sonoran Desert. Around every turn, another stunning scene unveils itself, with bigger, older saguaro reaching 30 to 40 feet tall and other cacti and grasses and flowers marching up hillsides to a sky bluer than a mountain lake, the blend of sharply contrasting colors almost hypnotizing (and delightful to avid photographers like Mark and me). Broken rocks formed eons before the continent’s last glacial period litter the trail. Lizards dash under and over rocks and the baked earth. In the distance, eroded rock formations with names like The Spine, Copper Butte, and The Rincon tower above the desert.

After almost six hours and nearly 11 miles of hiking under the sun’s steadily rising intensity—it feels quite hot even though the day’s high temp doesn’t push much past around 80° F, a strong signal that one does not want to hike here much later than early April—we turn down the dry wash of Walnut Canyon. Walking over and around large rocks and desiccated scrub brush, tree trunks, and other flash-flood debris that lies scattered wall-to-wall across the wash, we follow the dry wash to the banks of the Gila River.

Moments before reaching the river, we locate the essential element necessary for us to survive out here for two more days: water. Right where we expected to find it, a spring emerges from underground, forming a clear trickle about three inches deep in its biggest tiny pool—enough flow and depth to scoop water out using a hard-sided bottle, a task we execute slowly and carefully so as not to stir up sediment and cloud our drinking and cooking water. This trickle flows timidly toward the river but disappears again into the ground not more than 30 feet from where it breaks into the open, before reaching the Gila (although it almost certainly drains underground to the river).

This will be our lone water source through the next two days.

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Backpackers hiking the Arizona Trail Passage 16 in the Gila River Canyon.
Pam and Mark Solon backpacking the Arizona Trail Passage 16 in the Gila River Canyon.

We pitch our tents just a few minutes’ walk from the spring, in the partial shade of tall cottonwoods. But we only receive the salvation of complete shade when the blazing sun drops behind the desert hills in early evening; only then does the air feel suddenly less stifling and almost comfortable. The cloudless desert night will cool down enough to require very light down jackets by morning—but never drop to a temperature that anyone would call “chilly,” merely pleasantly cool.

Walking to the river’s edge to stand beside its brown, thickly silted flow—a clear visualization of the near impossibility of harvesting water that’s consumable for us from the Gila—I stand quietly, listening to the low, soft hissing as it swiftly passes by carrying untold tons of fine sand and grit.

That’s the soundtrack of a river of very watery mud.

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Dayhiking in the Sonoran Desert Mountains

The next morning, we depart camp before the sun has reached the valley bottom, hoping to walk for as long as possible in the cooler morning temperatures and shade giving way to lower-angle sunlight. Leaving most of our gear in camp, carrying only daypacks that contain mostly water (four liters each, plus some food and the only extra layer we might need, an ultralight wind shell), we continue following the AZT generally west (although we’re technically hiking the AZT northbound).

The trail remains mostly above the river and its corridor of cottonwoods and dense brush, rarely within sight or earshot of it. But where the trail reaches higher vantage points, we get expansive views of the Gila Valley, surprisingly green with cottonwoods and other hardy, desert-adapted trees crowding the river’s flood zone.

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Hikers on the Arizona Trail Passage 16 in the Gila River Canyon.
Pam and Mark Solon dayhiking the Arizona Trail Passage 16 in the Gila River Canyon.

Where the AZT banks a 90-degree turn to the north, we begin a steady ascent, our vistas expanding as we climb higher. Stone spires rise out of desert mountains. Broken cliffs of multi-colored rock loom across a dry wash valley to one side of the trail. We again walk for miles through a shockingly colorful landscape vibrant with plant life, from giant saguaro to the tiny wildflowers silently screaming out their colors. The cholla cacti we pass by here grow taller than those we saw in the valley bottom, in clusters that spread over broader patches of hillside; again, the sun pierces their dense needles in a way that almost creates an illusion of burning bushes.

After perhaps a couple of hours climbing uphill, we turn around to start our long, hot return to camp. On the way back down, we come upon another serendipitous find: a desert tortoise, larger than a soccer ball, ambling tediously across the trail—living in terrain that’s miles from the nearest water that we know of. Although bighorn sheep, mountain lions, and Gila monsters dwell in this desert (and I’d love to see a Gila monster, but we won’t on this trip), besides the rattler, birds, and the ubiquitous lizards, this tortoise will be the only animal we see.

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Hikers on the Arizona Trail Passage 16 in the Gila River Canyon.
Pam and Mark Solon dayhiking the Arizona Trail Passage 16 in the Gila River Canyon.

The desert delivers one surprise after another.

By early afternoon, my photographer’s eye notices how the daylight this early in spring visibly transitions from the harsh, directly overhead sun of midday to a lower angle that lends the landscape more contrast and depth and softer, richer light—more confirmation, for me, of the accidentally propitious timing of our hike.

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Backpacking Utah’s Mind-Blowing Death Hollow Loop https://thebigoutsideblog.com/backpacking-utahs-mind-blowing-death-hollow-loop/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/backpacking-utahs-mind-blowing-death-hollow-loop/#respond Fri, 22 Mar 2024 22:36:27 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=62487 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Like many desert Southwest hikes, southern Utah’s Boulder Mail Trail begins from its western trailhead with a lot of laboriously slow walking in soft sand—miles of it, up, down, over, across. When not walking in beach sand, or for brief, merciful spurts, firm sand, we’re hiking over slickrock, that most grippy of ground surfaces where we can move much more quickly—except where the slickrock tilts at severe angles, as it does much of the time. Then it begins an adventurous exercise in strenuous, calf-pumping ascents or cautious descents with backpacks, constantly zigzagging to avoid the impassable spots steep enough that a slip could result in a long slide and tumble for a possibly hurtful distance.

The potential for drama aside, the trail is reasonably well-marked with cairns across the slickrock and pocked with boot prints in the sand from recent backpackers. And with every bend in the trail and new prospect overlooking this bizarrely convoluted, twisted-like-a-pretzel-and-just-as-dry terrain in the Box-Death Hollow Wilderness of the Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument, I have three visceral reactions.

A backpacker descending Death Hollow in southern Utah's Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument.
Todd Arndt backpacking down Death Hollow in southern Utah’s Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument.

First, I can’t help but wonder how daunting all of this must have looked to the first people to explore and map routes across it—and this part of southern Utah anchored by the Escalante River and Henry Mountains was the last area of the continental United States to get mapped, no doubt for the very reasons of the harsh contours, climate, and remoteness.

Second, while I have backpacked all over the Southwest, including many of this region’s best multi-day hikes, this trail and landscape repeatedly cause me to pause, look around, and catch my breath—not only for the steepness, but for the stark beauty, the myriad folds in this turbulent landscape of rock and sand, the sweeping vistas and the kid-in-a-playground quality of wandering circuitously across this navigationally almost unreadable terrain. While reminiscent of other parts of the Southwest, it’s still uniquely breathtaking.

And lastly: I know that each of our three days out here will present entirely different terrain and scenery, a sort of three-in-one wilderness adventure.


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Backpackers descending the Boulder Mail Trail into Death Hollow in southern Utah's Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument.
Todd Arndt and David Gordon descending the Boulder Mail Trail into Death Hollow in southern Utah’s Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan this trip.

My friends Todd Arndt, David Gordon, and I are backpacking the 22-mile/35.4-kilometer Boulder Mail Trail-Death Hollow-Escalante River Loop, also known more simply as the Death Hollow Loop. Over three days, we’ll hike a bit more than half of the BMT, descend the sometimes narrow, dramatic canyon of Death Hollow, frequently walking in the creek, and then ascend the upper canyon of the Escalante River.

Coming here in the first week of October, we’re greeted with daytime temperatures in the 60s Fahrenheit and sunshine that still feels desert-hot pouring from a bluebird sky. That and the scenery unfolding before us on our first day feel like good omens.

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The Boulder Mail Trail

When established in 1902, the Boulder Mail Trail was exactly that: a route that mail carriers traveled by packhorse from the town of Escalante to isolated Boulder Town. By 1910, a telegraph line was strung across this high, slickrock plateau and the few creeks that slash canyons through it, providing Boulder with communication to the outside world (through the technology of the times, a switchboard in Escalante). When UT 12 was completed in 1940, creating one of the most scenic highways in the country, the Boulder Mail Trail probably met the fate of so many outdated technologies: It was soon forgotten. But not abandoned forever.

In recent decades, the 15-mile trail has evolved a new identity as a distinctively spectacular and rugged overnight backpacking trip or long, challenging dayhike—and I suspect it probably attracts just as much depth of appreciation as it did in its first role, although now from a much larger population of beneficiaries.

Along much of the Boulder Mail Trail from Escalante to Death Hollow, we follow the old telegraph line that still hangs from short metal poles and the occasional small tree. Reaching some of today’s easiest terrain at Antone Flats—which are “flat” only relative to much of the BMT—we stroll over gently rolling but unmoving waves of Navajo Sandstone with ripples like the wind-washed sand dunes that constituted its geological childhood.

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Backpackers in Antone Flat on the Boulder Mail Trail in southern Utah's Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument.
David Gordon and Todd Arndt in Antone Flat on the Boulder Mail Trail in southern Utah’s Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument.

Distinctive for its cross-bedded lines, or cross-stratification, where prehistoric layers deposited at random, crisscrossing angles, Navajo Sandstone arguably represents the most striking and captivating ground surface on Earth. It looks like the most immense, complex, and beautiful pottery you’ve ever seen.

By some estimates, this type of sandstone spans more than 150,000 square miles (400,000 square kilometers) of the western United States, spread across the Colorado Plateau in Utah, Nevada, Arizona, and Colorado. Known to geologists as one of the most extensive and most exposed aeolian, or wind-blown, systems in the geologic record, Navajo Sandstone originated in an enormous sand sea deposited in the Early Jurassic, approximately 190 million years ago, as a result of regional tectonics when the Colorado Plateau region was part of a large sedimentary basin located in a very arid climate just north of the equator. (If you want a fascinating, four-paragraph lesson in Navajo sandstone geology, read this.)

Due to our travel schedule, we started our hike after lunch, expecting to finish our 8.5-mile first day with a moderate amount of vertical relief in four hours or less. But by the time we reached Antone Flats, it became clear that the sand and steep slickrock, with a bit of scrambling thrown in to spice it up, would result in our time estimate falling short by two hours (for three guys, it’s worth noting, with decades of backpacking experience and many 20- and 30-mile days under our hipbelts).

But it’s hard to imagine many closing scenes to the first act of a backcountry adventure finer than the moment we reach the rim of Death Hollow.

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A backpacker above Death Hollow on the Boulder Mail Trail in southern Utah's Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument.
Todd Arndt above Death Hollow on the Boulder Mail Trail in southern Utah’s Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument.

The sun has already retreated to the cliff tops high above us, leaving our overlook and the deep chasm of Death Hollow in shadow. Sheer cliffs slashed by myriad vertical cracks, steep ramps of intricately featured Navajo Sandstone, and rib-like buttresses of rock separated by deep gullies comprise the walls of this wriggling canyon, which looks impenetrable from our prospect. In its bottom, the perennial creek has created a lush, green oasis in the desert.

In the slowly dimming dusk light, we follow the BMT’s zigzagging route along narrow ledges and down steep slickrock ramps carpeted in loose pebbles and sand to the floor of this Escalante River tributary canyon. Finding a couple in a tent at the one spacious and flat, sandy camp at the bottom of the trail, we try exploring downstream for a quarter-mile, wading in the swift current but finding no remotely feasible camps. With dark fast approaching, we backtrack to that camp and apologetically explain to the couple, Jason and Hannah, that we have no choice but to join them. They graciously insist it’s no problem and we pitch our tents at the other end of the sandy shelf.

Todd busts out three cans of beer that he’s carried in to surprise us with—the hero for the day. Later, the night sky emerges so dark and ablaze with stars that one might be tempted to wonder whether it’s a secret code that holds the answers to all the great questions of the universe and our place in it.

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Death Hollow

A mild night that dipped perhaps barely below 50 degrees Fahrenheit dawns to a calm morning so quiet you might hear a sigh of deep contentment from a half-mile away. We’re in no great hurry to start hiking: We want to let the sun rise a bit higher to start warming the bottom of Death Hollow, where we don’t expect to receive much direct sunlight all day, owing to its tall walls and narrow topography, and where the cold creek creates natural refrigeration. So we linger in camp over tea and coffee and don’t roll out until just after 10 a.m.

A backpacker descending Death Hollow in southern Utah's Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument.
Todd Arndt backpacking down Death Hollow in southern Utah’s Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument.

Just below the campsite, we cautiously step into the creek where it punches through a constriction in the canyon, the current gaining a bit of depth and speed. The water instantly feels shockingly cold with my first, thigh-deep plunge into it in the canyon’s deep morning shade, my feet and lower legs immediately stinging with numbness. But less than an hour after starting out, while this canyon still remains mostly in shade, we’ve all warmed up enough to start peeling off extra layers. My feet, in neoprene socks inside my shoes, start to slowly warm up again.

The close walls of this stretch of Death Hollow conjure mental images—waking nightmares, really—of finding oneself in here when a flash flood rips down this narrow and vertiginous canyon. Debris from past flashes litter the creek banks. This is not a hike for any days with even a trace of a chance of rain in the forecast.

We work our way downstream in the often-shallow stream, seeking out the path of least risk amid small cascades, cliffs rising out of the water, and deep, calm pools, boulders and rocks buffed slick by the current, and assorted other obstacles and hazards. At one point, we file gingerly along a long and very narrow ledge submerged a few inches below the surface of the creek on the right bank, taking care to avoid slipping and falling into the pool below the ledge, which spans 10 feet or more and appears to be several feet deep.

The first clusters of poison ivy we encounter stand so tall and abundant that it takes a few seconds to realize we’re looking at poison ivy. The plants grow in dense thickets along the creek banks, many of them taller than us. David, a longtime trails manager and experienced backpacker and backcountry traveler, says, “I’ve never seen poison ivy so big.”

Death Hollow alternately pinches down to a narrows with overhanging walls and flat, creekside ledges with deep alcoves carved out by the current, and broadens to suddenly bathe us in warm sunshine and reveal tall, sheer walls and slickrock ramps and domes.

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A backpacker descending Death Hollow in southern Utah's Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument.
Todd Arndt backpacking down Death Hollow in southern Utah’s Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument.

At one magical spot in the canyon, we stop just to admire a short but lovely, broad curtain of water pouring over a ledge in the creek right at the base of the cracked face of steep-walled dome that rises to a spear point high above us. The greenery of trees contract with soaring, red, gray, and tan walls on all sides. Below that tiny falls, another watery curtain plunges over another ledge, spanning the creek wall to wall.

By late afternoon, six hours after leaving last night’s camp—a pace of barely over a mile per hour in Death Hollow, although we’d also taken a deliberately leisurely pace to enjoy it—we reach its mouth and confluence with the Escalante River, a rare occurrence where a river tributary adds a much greater volume of water than exists in the river. A couple of parties of backpackers have already found camps here, but there’s far more space on the sandy shelves above the river, in the sparse shade of cottonwood trees, for us to set up our tents without anyone else within sight.

We find a natural stone pool in the Escalante’s current, shaped like a shallow bathtub and deep enough to lie down and fully immerse ourselves in the bracing water for a nice, but brief, cooling bath.

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Idaho Wilderness Trail Maps and Overview https://thebigoutsideblog.com/idaho-wilderness-trail-maps-and-overview/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/idaho-wilderness-trail-maps-and-overview/#comments Thu, 14 Mar 2024 09:00:35 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=54101 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Want to hike the most remote and wild long-distance trail in the Lower 48? The Idaho Wilderness Trail stretches for 296 miles across three central Idaho wilderness areas that comprise nearly four million acres. If these three wildernesses were contained within one national park, it would be America’s third largest and the biggest outside Alaska. This article offers a primer on the IWT and links to digital maps of its four stages.

From north to south, the IWT traverses the 1.3-million acre Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness, which by itself is larger than many national parks, including Yosemite, Grand Canyon, and Glacier; the nearly 2.4-million-acre Frank Church-River of No Return Wilderness (aka “the Frank”), largest in the Lower 48 and bigger than Yellowstone; and the 217,000-acre Sawtooth Wilderness, protected as a primitive area since 1937, among the first places protected in The Wilderness Act of 1964, and now Idaho’s best-known and most beloved mountain range for its jagged peaks and hundreds of alpine lakes.

Nearly 350 miles long when including three remote road sections—where backpackers may be able to catch rides—the IWT extends from its northern terminus at Wilderness Gateway campground on US 12 on the edge of the Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness in North Idaho to its southern terminus on the outskirts of the tiny town of Atlanta, on the southern edge of the Sawtooth Wilderness. It can be hiked as four distinct stages or thru-hiked in a month or less.


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A hiker on the Middle Fork River Trail 44 in Idaho's Frank Church-River of No Return Wilderness.
Lisa Fenton hiking the Middle Fork River Trail 44 in Idaho’s Frank Church-River of No Return Wilderness.

Born about 10 years ago when I brought the concept of it to the Idaho Conservation League, which embraced the idea and collaborated with me to create it using existing trails, the IWT spans a vast realm of mountains and canyons divided by just one rural highway (ID 21 outside the small town of Stanley) and two remote dirt roads. It crosses mountain passes over 9,000 feet and meanders below peaks rising over 10,000 feet; follows three designated wild and scenic rivers, the Middle Fork of the Salmon, the Salmon (often referred to as the “Main Salmon”), and the Selway; and traces the shores of innumerable alpine lakes below dramatic spires from the Bighorn Crags in the Frank to the Sawtooths.

It passes through pristine backcountry that is home to mountain goats and bighorn sheep, elk and moose, black bears, and hundreds of wolves—a population estimated to be at least seven times as many as live in Yellowstone.

Perhaps most uniquely, the IWT offers the kind of solitude one cannot find on most long-distance trails. In fact, many backpackers have never even heard of the wilderness areas the trail traverses. I’ve backpacked the John Muir Trail and parts of the Pacific Crest Trail, Appalachian Trail, and other long-distance footpaths. The IWT far eclipses them for solitude.

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Backpackers above the Baron Lakes in Idaho's Sawtooth Mountains.
My son, Nate, with friends Kade and Iggy, backpacking above the Baron Lakes in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains, along the Idaho Wilderness Trail.

Thru-hiking the IWT poses logistical challenges in some ways more challenging than other long-distance trails. Besides its remoteness, those include:

  • The trail crosses mountains in each of its four stages and deep canyons in between the mountains. A thru-hike must be undertaken in the summer or early fall to avoid snow in the mountains, but that means dealing with heat in the lower canyons.
  • Arranging a shuttle between the northern and southern ends of the IWT for a thru-hike—or even between the northern and southern ends of any stage(s) of the trail—is complicated by very limited road access and the sheer size of these wilderness areas. Two of the three roads the trail crosses are gravel and quite remote and the driving time between the Wilderness Gateway Campground on US 12 at the IWT’s northern end and the tiny town of Atlanta, Idaho, at the IWT’s southern end (reached via good but somewhat slow gravel roads), is over eight hours one-way.
  • Resupply opportunities are scant and far apart. Unlike more-established long-distance trails like the JMT, PCT, and AT, there are not yet established places where one can resupply along the IWT.

Perhaps most challenging, some sections of the IWT follow trails that have not been maintained in years—or never maintained—especially the IWT’s northern sections in the Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness. Anyone considering a thru-hike or a backpacking trip on any section of the Idaho Wilderness Trail is strongly advised to read through the very detailed and well-researched blog posts written by my friends Tom and Will Gattiker, who thru-hiked the IWT in September and October 2022. Will’s report focuses on critical logistical details and recommends variations off the IWT to avoid abandoned/unmaintained trails: safesexandgoretex.com/2022/11/idaho-wilderness-trail-nitty-gritty.html. Tom’s report is more of a travel log about the experience: click here.

See my tips and more information on backpacking the IWT in my story, “America’s Newest Long Trail: The Idaho Wilderness Trail,” and the comments at the bottom of that story, where some backpackers who’ve hiked the trail share helpful, specific details about it See also my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you plan a thru-hike of the entire Idaho Wilderness Trail or a backpacking trip on one of its stages as well as any trip you read about at this blog.

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A hiker above Idaho's Middle Fork Salmon River in the Frank Church-River of No Return Wilderness.
Mark Fenton hiking above Idaho’s Middle Fork Salmon River in the Frank Church-River of No Return Wilderness.

Idaho Wilderness Trail Maps

See an overview map of the Idaho Wilderness Trail at https://drive.google.com/file/d/11GOZEV1ufser-wbHh9SniDkdXeJKyN2Q/view?ts=5ce5d90e. Mapping the IWT on gaiagps.com, the IWT measures 349.6 miles, including 296 total official trail miles divided into four stages and three road sections that total 53.6 miles.

These are links to the four IWT stages maps on gaiagps.com:

Gaia map of IWT Stage 1
Gaia map of IWT Stage 2
Gaia map of IWT Stage 3
Gaia map of IWT Stage 4

Will Gattiker, who thru-hiked the IWT with his father, Tom, in 2022, created a map of the route they took, including some variations necessitated by wildfires and poor trail conditions, at caltopo.com/m/R171T.

Existing print maps that cover parts of the IWT include:

  • The Cairn Cartographics Selway-Bitterroot Wilderness North Half and South Half (two maps) cover that wilderness area, cairncarto.com.
  • The Frank Church River of No Return Wilderness South Half and North Half maps are folded paper maps that provide a good overview of the wilderness, showing trails, but are large, not tearproof or waterproof, and unwieldy to use in the backcountry. See info on buying these maps at fs.usda.gov/detail/scnf/maps-pubs/?cid=fsbdev3_029527. I think you might find those maps on Amazon and elsewhere.
  • The U.S. Forest Service also offers digital maps of the national forests which can be accessed at the websites of many national forests, including by scrolling down to the “Download Maps” button at fs.usda.gov/r04/salmon-challis/maps-guides.
  • Trails Illustrated Sawtooth National Recreation Area map no. 870. It has convenient mileage distances marked for trail segments and good detail for backpacking.

The Idaho Wilderness Trail will give you a backpacking experience like no other.

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Backpacking the Canadian Rockies: Nigel and Cataract Passes https://thebigoutsideblog.com/backpacking-the-canadian-rockies-nigel-and-cataract-passes/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/backpacking-the-canadian-rockies-nigel-and-cataract-passes/#comments Wed, 28 Feb 2024 13:02:38 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=62172 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

A couple of hours up the Nigel Pass Trail, after a lunch break beside boulder-strewn rapids on chalky, glacially silted Nigel Creek, we pop out of forest into sub-alpine terrain with wildflowers and the kind of dense, low brush that conceals grizzly bears better than we think—enjoying our first expansive views of the peaks flanking this valley in Banff National Park. As we make our way farther up the valley, our gentle trail turns steeper, leading us up to Nigel Pass at 7,200 feet (2,195 meters), where we drink up a 360-degree panorama of tall cliffs and treeless mountainsides of broken rock in this little patch of the Canadian Rockies.

But even this barely hints at what lies ahead.

A descent of just minutes brings us to an easy rock-hop across the shallow Brazeau River, which runs milky and emerald with glacial till—and across an invisible boundary into Jasper National Park. Several other backpackers also crossing the river all continue in the direction of the well-known Brazeau Loop in Jasper. None turn in the same direction we’re hiking.


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Backpackers hiking the Nigel Cataract and Cline Passes Route toward Cataract Pass in Jasper National Park, Canadian Rockies.
Our group backpacking up the Brazeau River Valley toward Cataract Pass in Jasper National Park, Canadian Rockies.

On the river’s opposite bank, we find what seems a promising indication of what our route ahead may offer: a trail sign marking this junction and a clearly visible footpath on the ground leading where we want to go. The sign points to Cataract Pass, our destination—and affirms what we already know: that this is an “unmaintained route.”

Minutes beyond that junction, a scene of alpine paradise unspools before us. In this virtually treeless valley, the Brazeau River, baring white-capped teeth, punches noisily through a tight passage between the steep slope that this use trail traverses and crumbling cliffs on the river’s other side. Mountains of archetypal Canadian Rockies pedigree, with serrated stone crowns and towering walls of heavily fractured layers, shoulder into the achingly blue sky, more of them coming into view as we march up valley.

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A backpacker hiking above the Brazeau River Valley toward Cataract Pass in Jasper National Park, Canadian Rockies.
My wife, Penny, backpacking above the Brazeau River Valley toward Cataract Pass in Jasper National Park, Canadian Rockies. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan this trip.

Following occasional cairns, we scramble through a jumbled, maze-like train wreck of razor-edged boulders, the going slow but not difficult through what looks like the very old debris of massive rockslides that released high above and reached the valley floor. Rocks of all sizes and sharply contrasting colors cover the ground at the bottom of the geologically complex, skyscraping cliffs forming this side of the valley. 

Five of us—my wife, Penny, our 20-year-old daughter, Alex, our longtime friends Gary Davis and his 19-year-old daughter, Adele, and I—are spending three days backpacking the Nigel, Cataract, and Cline Passes Route in the Canadian Rockies. Today, our first day, we’ll cross Nigel and Cataract passes in northern Banff and southern Jasper national parks. At Cataract Pass, we’ll enter the White Goat Wilderness, where we plan to base camp for two nights.

Before long, the valley broadens and flattens. The Brazeau meanders lazily, parting around rocky sandbars of its own making, its water even more vividly emerald here, in its calm before the storm of whitewater downstream. We stroll casually along a flat trail through meadows that, as Adele puts it, look very much like “a golf course.” But, of course, this wilderness idyll is the farthest thing from a manicured golf course.

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The Brazeau River Valley

Taking a short snack break in the Brazeau Valley, we chat for a few minutes with a backpacker heading in the other direction who mentions that he began his trek in Waterton; and when I ask if he’s thru-hiking the Great Divide Trail, he flashes a big smile, excited that I’ve heard of it. He started the 698-mile/1,123-kilometer GDT in the first days of July and plans to finish in the third week of August.

Curious about the GDT, I ask if he has favorite sections so far. He contemplates the question for a long moment, mentions Waterton and a couple of others, then finally shrugs and says, “It’s all great.”

The Great Divide Trail stretches from Waterton Lakes National Park on the U.S.-Canada border—where it connects with the Continental Divide Trail (CDT) in America’s Glacier National Park—to its northern terminus in Kakwa Provincial Park. Along its winding, up-and-down course, the GDT passes through five national parks (Waterton Lakes, Banff, Kootenay, Yoho, and Jasper), eight provincial parks, three wildland provincial parks, two wilderness areas, including our destination, the White Goat, and two special management areas.

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Backpackers camped in Cataract Basin on the Nigel, Cataract and Cline Passes Route, White Goat Wilderness, Canadian Rockies.
Our camp near Cataract Creek on the Nigel, Cataract and Cline Passes Route, White Goat Wilderness, Canadian Rockies.

Sixty percent of the trail lies within Canada’s Rocky Mountain National and Provincial Parks, a World Heritage Site spanning four national parks (the four above excluding Waterton) and three provincial parks (Mount Robson, Mount Assiniboine, and Hamber). The seven contiguous parks collectively cover more than 5.8 million acres/almost 2.4 million hectares of pristine mountain wilderness—an area nearly equal to Yellowstone, Grand Canyon, Glacier, and Everglades national parks combined.

While the Nigel, Cataract, and Cline Passes Route comprises a miniscule piece of the GDT, it seems like a good sampler of what strikes me as probably one of the most continuously scenic, wild, often remote, and just plain interesting long-distance trails in the world.

We reach the upper Brazeau Valley, where a remnant glacier hangs off a peak that stands over 9,600 feet (3,000 meters); that glacier drains into a trio of glacial lakes in this basin that forms the headwaters of the Brazeau River. We gaze up at the steep footpath ascending a slope of scree for several hundred feet to Cataract Pass, at 8,200 feet (2,500 meters). Then everyone puts their head down and grinds it out, each at our own pace, reaching the windy pass one at a time, congratulating one other’s effort.

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A backpacker hiking over Cataract Pass toward the Brazeau River Valley in Jasper National Park, Canadian Rockies.
My wife, Penny, backpacking over Cataract Pass toward the Brazeau River Valley in Jasper National Park, Canadian Rockies.

Crossing another invisible boundary at this pass to enter the White Goat Wilderness, we follow the path and sporadic cairns down the other side. It disappears crossing rocky ground, then reappears farther ahead, plunging down a steep final pitch with occasionally sketchy footing on pebbly trail—but with a visible trail much of the way—to Cataract Creek. Easily walking a chain of rocks across the shallow, clear, cold water, we reach a large campsite just above the creek’s opposite bank.

A twisting arc of mountains comprised of shattered cliffs, scree slopes, and jagged edges against the sky cradles the Cataract Creek basin. A chain of peaks frames the creek valley draining the basin’s mouth. Above our camp, a glacier dangles off one mountainside.

We’ll spend two nights here in the White Goat Wilderness largely because no permit is required. That fact creates a convenient situation in the midst of the Canadian Rockies national parks, where very popular multi-day hikes like the Skyline Trail in Jasper and the Rockwall Trail in Kootenay—two premier sections of the GDT—require permit reservations that are very hard to get.

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The White Goat Wilderness

The next morning, I’m out of the tent before the sun reaches our camp, wearing multiple layers in the cool morning air, walking around shooting photos of our camp surroundings and the creek and mountains in the diffused pre-dawn light. Before long, the sun begins striking the mountaintops, bathing them in golden light.

See all stories about backpacking in the Canadian Rockies at The Big Outside.

The Gear I Used See my reviews of the outstanding backpack, two tents (this one and this one), boots, 30-degree sleeping bag (my wife used this 15-degree sleeping bag), rain jacket, down jacket, fleece jacket, trekking poles, air mattress, stove, and headlamps I used on this trip.

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Photo Gallery: The Rockwall Trail in the Canadian Rockies https://thebigoutsideblog.com/photo-gallery-the-rockwall-trail-in-the-canadian-rockies/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/photo-gallery-the-rockwall-trail-in-the-canadian-rockies/#comments Wed, 20 Dec 2023 10:00:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=23155 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

A few hours into our hike’s first day, we came around a bend in the trail to a sight that stopped us cold: a pair of skyscraping stone monoliths rising thousands of feet above the treetops. Silhouetted by the sun arcing toward the west, the peaks resembled a pair of El Capitans standing shoulder to shoulder. A little while later, one of the tallest waterfalls in the Rocky Mountains came into view: Helmet Falls, plunging 1,154 feet (352 meters) over a cliff.

After that, the scenery really got good.

My family was backpacking the approximately 34-mile (54k) Rockwall Trail in Kootenay National Park, in the vertiginous heart of the Canadian Rockies. Well known among Canadian backpackers but less so among Americans and international trekkers, the Rockwall arguably deserves a place on any list of the world’s prettiest trails. (I included it among “My 30 Most Scenic Days of Hiking Ever.”)

Backpackers on the Rockwall follow the base of a nearly unbroken, massive limestone escarpment in Kootenay’s Vermilion Range, plastered with glaciers and towering in some locations about 3,000 feet (900 meters) above the trail, for about 18 miles (30 kilometers) of the route.


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Over four August days, we hiked through larch forests and across meadows carpeted with wildflowers. We saw mountain goats scamper along a moraine below a hanging glacier. We crossed four passes between about 7,300 to 7,700 feet.

As I think you’ll see in the photo gallery below, it’s no exaggeration to liken it to dozens of the tallest cliff in Yosemite Valley, El Capitan, lined up in a row stretching for miles.

Although it’s in grizzly country (we saw no signs of bears) and the passes present moderately tough climbs, the Rockwall Trail is, in many ways, a beginner-friendly backpacking trip. Trails are well marked and easy to follow. The passes aren’t so high that the elevation greatly affects many people. There are bridges over the creeks (we never got our feet wet), and designated camping areas with bearproof, metal lockers for food storage, pit toilets, and even picnic tables.

Shopping for new gear? Start with the menu of all reviews at this blog’s Gear Reviews page.

Now is the time of year to reserve a permit to backpack the Rockwall Trail. See my feature story about that trip, “Backpacking the Canadian Rockies: Kootenay’s Rockwall Trail,” for more photos, a video, and trip-planning information.

See also all of my stories about the Canadian Rockies, family adventures, and international adventures at The Big Outside.

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16 Photos From 2023 That Will Inspire Your Next Adventure https://thebigoutsideblog.com/16-photos-from-2023-that-will-inspire-your-next-adventure/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/16-photos-from-2023-that-will-inspire-your-next-adventure/#comments Tue, 12 Dec 2023 10:25:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=49495 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

How was your 2023? I hope you got outdoors as much as possible with the people you care about—and you enjoyed adventures that inspired you. I’m sharing in this story photos from the seven backpacking trips I took this year (in addition to the usual dayhiking, climbing, skiing, etc.). In early April, I went on a pair of three-day hikes in Arizona’s Aravaipa Canyon and on a section of the Arizona Trail that was in the midst of a wildly colorful wildflower bloom. On a two-family trip to the Canadian Rockies in late July and early August, we backpacked two amazing routes, the Skyline Trail in Jasper National Park and a piece of the Great Divide Trail into the White Goat Wilderness.

Later in August, I returned yet again to the Wind River Range for a roughly 41-mile hike that I am prepared to boldly call the best multi-day hike in the Winds (and that’s saying an awful lot). September featured a much-anticipated return to Glacier National Park for a seven-day hike complicated by an ever-present possibility in Glacier—”bear activity”—following trails I have walked before but which I think could never fail to inspire a sense of awe. And finally, in early October, two friends and I backpacked a three-day loop in southern Utah’s Escalante region that exceeded even my high expectations for it.


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No Name Lake in Glacier National Park.
No Name Lake in Glacier National Park.

Yea, 2023 felt like a great year for me. And picking back through my photos it year only reinforces that feeling. As always, these experiences reminded me of what’s most important in my life.

The photos in this story are favorite images from those trips. Whether you want to learn more about any of them to take them yourself or just want to find some inspiration for your adventures, I think you’ll enjoy this little escape.

Scroll through the photos and short anecdotes from each trip below. Some include links to stories about those places that I’ve already posted at The Big Outside—many of which require a paid subscription to The Big Outside to read in full, including my tips and information on how to plan and take those trips. Watch for my upcoming stories about the other places described below. Click photos to learn more about any trip.

And I can help you plan any of these trips or any others you read about at The Big Outside—giving you the benefit of my three decades of professional experience identifying, planning, and successfully pulling off great adventures. See my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you, and my downloadable e-guides to some of America’s best backpacking trips.

I’d love to hear what you think of any of my photos or the places shown in them, or upcoming plans you have. Please share your thoughts in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

Enjoy my pictures and start now planning your adventures for 2024.

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A backpacker amid a wildflower super bloom on the Arizona Trail in the Gila River Canyon.
Mark Solon backpacking amid a wildflower super bloom on the Arizona Trail in the Gila River Canyon.

The Arizona Trail Along the Gila River

In early April, the Arizona Trail’s passage (or section) 16 through the Gila River canyons proved to be everything one would expect in the extremely arid Sonoran Desert—and much more than expected. On a three-day, out-and-back hike to a base camp with a dayhike from it on the middle day, two friends and I walked for hours each day beneath a relentlessly nuclear sun—a shock to people coming directly from a prolonged, cold winter (of epic skiing)—along a route with one reliable water source: a spring emerging from the dry ground and trickling no more than three inches deep. We were not five minutes into our trip when a sound all too familiar to all of us startled us: a sustained, scratchy rattling noise from a snake displeased by these large intruders.

But we also enjoyed very pleasant evening and morning temperatures in camp and on the trail (until the heat unfailingly set in by around late morning). We followed a winding trail over rolling desert hills where life sprang with enthusiastic defiance from an environment that we humans see as uninhabitable and deadly.

A hiker amid a wildflower bloom on the Arizona Trail in the Gila River Canyon.
Pam Solon dayhiking from our camp along the Arizona Trail in the Gila River Canyon.

Saguaro rose as much as 40 feet tall and inhabited the land like giant sculptures in an outdoor museum. The needle-dense clusters of cholla cacti seemed to glow in the blinding sunshine, while barrel cacti and other thorny flora covered the ground densely. One our dayhike from camp, climbing into hills topped by small, rocky little peaklets and broken cliffs, we came upon a Sonoran desert tortoise, bigger than a dinner plate, miles from any apparent water source.

But most surprisingly and fortuitously, we stumbled into the peak of a shockingly colorful wildflower super bloom. Flowers carpeted the ground so densely that professional landscapers might feel humbled. The spectacle of color rolled up and down brown hillsides dominated by towering saguaro, each new scene around every bend in the trail striking a stark contrast against a sky intensely blue in the dry air and painted with the ghostly white streaks of mare’s tail clouds.

Watch for my upcoming feature story about this trip. Meanwhile, see all stories about backpacking in the Grand Canyon—unsurprisingly considered the best part of the Arizona Trail—at The Big Outside.

The right gear makes any trip go better.
See “The 10 Best Backpacking Packs” and “The 10 Best Backpacking Tents.”

Backpackers in Aravaipa Canyon, Arizona.
Backpackers in Aravaipa Canyon, Arizona.

Arizona’s Aravaipa Canyon

Right after finishing that AZT hike, joined by two more friends, five of us backpacked into one of the most unique micro-environments existing anywhere in the desert Southwest: Arizona’s Aravaipa Canyon. We spent three days in the canyon (the maximum permitted), hiking in a few hours to set up a base camp in the shade of tall cottonwood trees along Aravaipa Creek and dayhiking nearly to the other end of this lush, 12-mile-long defile between redrock walls that reach up to 600 feet tall.

Although tiny compared to many more-famous public lands, the 19,410-acre Aravaipa Canyon Wilderness, in southeast Arizona, stands out as an anomalous oasis in the hyper-arid Sonoran Desert. Aravaipa Creek flows strongly year-round, nurturing cottonwood, sycamore, ash, and willow trees in the canyon bottom, while saguaro cacti grow in giant armies on the rims overhead.

Backpackers in Aravaipa Canyon, Arizona.
Backpacking out to the West Trailhead on our last day in Aravaipa Canyon. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan your trip.

With easy, nearly flat hiking often in the shallow river, no water scarcity typical of Southwest backpacking trips, abundant shade, and the low elevation and southern Arizona climate, Aravaipa offers a relatively casual and beautiful adventure in spring and fall—and fall paints the canyon in brilliant hues of red and gold.

Read my feature story about this trip, “Backpacking the Desert Oasis of Aravaipa Canyon” at The Big Outside.

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Backpackers hiking the Skyline Trail north toward Tekarra camp, Jasper National Park, Canadian Rockies.
Backpackers hiking the Skyline Trail below Mount Tekarra in Jasper National Park, Canadian Rockies.

The Skyline Trail in Jasper National Park

On a two-family trip from late July into August in the Canadian Rockies, we started out with a Canadian Rockies classic: backpacking Jasper’s Skyline Trail, a three-day, 27.3-mile, south-north traverse of the Maligne Range just southeast of the town of Jasper. Remaining above treeline for more than 15 miles, the Skyline serves up nearly constant panoramas of massive walls of rock and a sea of mountains in every direction.

For backpackers who like trails that stay high in the mountains for long distances with big views, the Skyline feels like the crown of the magnificent Canadian Rockies. And it’s not very hard at all. At a total distance and elevation gain and loss that many backpackers can complete in three days, and crossing three only moderately difficult passes, the highest reaching just 8,238 feet, the trip does not place great demands on your time or stamina. Backcountry camping is all in designated campgrounds with food-storage lockers, making food management easy, eliminating one of the biggest concerns about bear safety.

A backpacker hiking the Skyline Trail below Mount Tekarra in Jasper National Park.
My wife, Penny, backpacking the Skyline Trail below Mount Tekarra in Jasper National Park.

The Skyline can also deliver some wild weather: We hiked through a thunderstorm on our first day and strong winds on our second, traversing the trail’s highest stretch. Go there with a good layering system and shells and your A game for managing warmth and moisture. But it certainly merits ranking among the top multi-day hikes in the Canadian Rockies and mention on any serious list of the world’s top treks.

Every time I go there, I wonder whether there’s a mountain range in the Lower 48 that really compares with the Canadian Rockies.

Read my feature story about this trip, “Backpacking the Skyline Trail in Jasper National Park,” and see more photos in this blog post about hiking and backpacking in the Canadian Rockies and all stories about backpacking in the Canadian Rockies at The Big Outside.

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Backpackers hiking the Nigel, Cataract, and Cline Passes Route toward Cataract Pass in Jasper National Park.
Our group backpacking the Nigel, Cataract, and Cline Passes Route toward Cataract Pass in Jasper National Park.

The White Goat Wilderness in the Canadian Rockies

After the Skyline Trail, we spent another three days backpacking the Nigel, Cataract, and Cline Passes Route, which begins by crossing through remote corners of both Banff and Jasper national parks to reach the cirque that forms the headwaters of Cataract Creek in the White Goat Wilderness, where we set up a base camp for two nights.

On this out-and-back hike of just over 18 miles round-trip—not including the short side hike some of us took on our middle day to Cline Pass at over 8,800 feet—we backpacked up and down the valley of Nigel Creek to cross Nigel Pass, at 7,200 feet, and the upper valley of the Brazeau River, which flows milky and a vivid emerald color from glacial till, flanked by skyscraping cliffs, to cross Cataract Pass at 8,200 feet below a hanging glacier.

A backpacker above Cataract Creek on the Nigel, Cataract, and Cline Passes Route in the White Goat Wilderness of the Canadian Rockies.
Gary Davis above Cataract Creek on the Nigel, Cataract, and Cline Passes Route in the White Goat Wilderness of the Canadian Rockies.

At a camp a short walk from the clear waters of Cataract Creek, we gazed at tall, craggy peaks enwrapping the cirque, with another hanging glacier pouring off the peak directly above our camp. Having known little about the Nigel, Cataract, and Cline Passes Route before coming here, we were kind of blown away by it. Not surprisingly, the route is part of the Great Divide Trail, a 698-mile/1123-kilometer long-distance trail stretching from Waterton Lakes National Park on the U.S.-Canada border—where it abuts America’s Glacier National Park—to Kakwa Provincial Park.

The easy part: No permit is required for camping in the White Goat Wilderness.

Watch for my upcoming feature story about this trip. Meanwhile, see more photos in this blog post about hiking and backpacking in the Canadian Rockies.

Plan your next great backpacking trip in Yosemite, Grand Teton, and other parks using my expert e-guides.

A backpacker descending from Texas Pass into the Cirque of the Towers in the Wind River Range, Wyoming.
Chip Roser descending from Texas Pass into the Cirque of the Towers in the Wind River Range, Wyoming.

Just Maybe the Best Backpacking Trip in the Wind River Range

In the middle of August, my friend Chip and I returned to Wyoming’s Wind River Range—the second year in a row for Chip and fourth straight for me (preceded by other Winds trips going back 30 years)—backpacking a four-day, roughly 41-mile loop from Big Sandy. While I fully understand how much uproar this could antagonize, having seen quite a bit of Winds real estate over the years, I believe this route may constitute the best backpacking trip in those incredible mountains.

Following some trails that I’ve walked before and many miles of trails that were new to me even after numerous trips in the Winds, we crossed terrain mostly above 10,000 feet, camped by glorious alpine lakes that reflected sunset and early-morning light on razor peaks, and crossed four passes, three over 11,000 feet that I had not crossed before and the fourth just under that mark.

A backpacker above Macon Lake and Washakie Lake in the Wind River Range, Wyoming.
Chip Roser above Macon Lake and Washakie Lake in the Wind River Range, Wyoming.

Not atypical of these mountains that straddle the Continental Divide for about 100 miles and reach over 13,000 feet, we hiked through relentlessly strong winds that caused us to stagger at times and had to hunker down in our tents when a violent thunderstorm followed by hours of rain and wind pounded us.

After four years in a row exploring the Winds, I’m still ready to go back yet again—that’s how much awaits you in the Wind River Range. As I’ve written before at this blog, the Winds can make you ask yourself: Why would I go anywhere else?

Watch for my upcoming feature story about this trip. Meanwhile, see all stories about backpacking the Wind River Range at The Big Outside.

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A backpacker hiking the Dawson Pass Trail in Glacier National Park.
Pam Solon backpacking the Dawson Pass Trail in Glacier National Park.

Glacier National ParkAs Inspiring As Ever

I had a permit reservation for a seven-day variation I’d customized of Glacier’s popular Northern Loop—a hike that I (and plenty of other people) consider the best backpacking trip in Glacier, and one I’d taken before but was more than happy to repeat—when two friends and I arrived at the backcountry office in Apgar on a cool Sunday morning in September. Little did we know that our plans had already been rendered impossible due to closures of two of our six camps because of bear activity.

But working with a ranger eager to help us preserve a weeklong itinerary, we came up with an excellent alternative plan that kept my original itinerary’s first two days intact and added five new days, backpacking nearly 84 miles mostly on the Continental Divide Trail (CDT) from the park’s northeast corner south to Two Medicine.

A backpacker above Oldman Lake along the Dawson Pass Trail in Glacier National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm high above Oldman Lake along the Dawson Pass Trail in Glacier National Park.

We camped four of our six nights by beautiful lakes, hit highlights like the Ptarmigan Tunnel, Many Glacier, and the mind-blowing alpine traverse on the Dawson Pass Trail, crossed four passes with 360-degree panoramas of Glacier’s incomparable mountains—and enjoyed chilly nights and mornings and mostly sunny, dry days that are common in much of the West in September.

The takeaway: Almost any multi-day hike in Glacier will knock your socks off. (Bring extra pairs.)

See my feature story about this trip, “Déjà vu All Over Again: Backpacking in Glacier National Park,” and all stories about backpacking in Glacier National Park at The Big Outside.

Planning your next big adventure? See “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips
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A backpacker hiking down Death Hollow in southern Utah's Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument.
Todd Arndt backpacking down Death Hollow in southern Utah’s Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument.

The Boulder Mail Trail-Death Hollow-Escalante River Loop

Two friends and I embarked on this three-day hike with little idea of what to expect beyond all of us having had plenty of experience hiking and backpacking in southern Utah, including in the Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument.

What we found took the nearly blank canvas in our minds and gave us back a masterpiece of canyon country.

This roughly 22-mile loop links up the Boulder Mail Trail (lead photo at top of story) with a descent of the spellbinding and at times exciting, watery canyon of Death Hollow and then hiking up the upper canyon of the Escalante River, where the red walls rise tall and sheer and the river amounts to little more than a trickle that occasionally dries up.

This compact adventure delivers one of the best samplers I’ve seen of the Escalante region, from miles of walking up and down over slickrock slabs through canyons and across plateau country on the Boulder Mail Trail; to the descent of Death Hollow, where you’ll walk below soaring walls, frequently in water reaching sometimes over your knees (and that was in fall, suggesting that spring runoff may rise to deep and fast to hike this safely), with a new surprise around each bend; and concluding with easy strolling up the very upper end of the Escalante River canyon, which almost seems to require no introduction.

Watch for my upcoming feature story about this trip. Meanwhile, see all stories about hiking and backpacking in southern Utah at The Big Outside.

As you plan your trips for next year, see “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips,” “The 25 Best National Park Dayhikes,” my 25 all-time favorite backcountry campsites, and my Trips page at The Big Outside.

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Déjà vu All Over Again: Backpacking in Glacier National Park https://thebigoutsideblog.com/deja-vu-all-over-again-backpacking-in-glacier-national-park/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/deja-vu-all-over-again-backpacking-in-glacier-national-park/#respond Sat, 09 Dec 2023 16:47:45 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=61234 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

In the second week of September, the cool air in the shade of the forest nips at our cheeks as we leave our first night’s camp beside Glenns Lake in the backcountry of Glacier National Park, starting at a reasonably early hour for a day where we will walk nearly 16 miles and 6,000 feet of combined uphill and downhill. I’m hiking in a fleece hoodie, pants, and gloves and my friends Pam Solon and Jeff Wilhelm are similarly layered up. Once the sun reaches us within an hour, we’ll strip down to shorts and T-shirts.

Where the trail crosses a meadow, the expansive view west across a calm and insistently blue Cosley Lake reveals what looks like a long wall of overlapping stone shields jammed into the earth, each 2,000 or more feet tall and tilting at different angles. At the lake’s outlet—now in warm sunshine—we ford the Belly River, ankle- to calf-deep here with just a few tiny riffles and not very cold. More hiking through quiet forest brings us to the refrigerated, cliff-shaded alcove below Dawn Mist Falls, which spills thunderously over a sheer drop and crashes onto fallen boulders at its base, its force releasing a perpetual mist. Moss wallpapers the alcove’s short cliffs.

A backpacker hiking the Ptarmigan Tunnel Trail in Glacier National Park.
Pam Solon backpacking the Ptarmigan Tunnel Trail in Glacier National Park.

After a thoroughly relaxing lunch break on the pebbly beach at Elizabeth Lake—where the perfect combination of solar warmth and soft breeze probably converts in direct value to about a thousand hours of counseling—we start the long climb to the Ptarmigan Tunnel. Reaching the open alpine terrain, I repeatedly stop to spin 180 degrees and take big bites of our view of the valley of Helen and Elizabeth lakes and the peaks on the other side, which shelter what remains of a couple of glaciers in the shade of north-facing cliffs just below the mountaintops.

I’ve backpacked this trail before; this isn’t new to me. But time slowly renders a bit fuzzier the memory of how constantly breathtaking it is—which is, in a funny way, a gift to us: We get to experience that awe anew each time.

Everyone laughed when the legendary Yogi Berra said, “It’s like déjà vu all over again,” but I think I knew what he meant.


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Morning Star Lake in Glacier National Park.
Morning Star Lake in Glacier National Park.

The trail leads us upward across the cliff face of the long rampart known as the Ptarmigan Wall, the path growing wide as a city sidewalk, with a stone wall just in case its ample width isn’t enough to prevent anyone tripping into the abyss. Then we walk through the 250-foot-long Ptarmigan Tunnel, blasted through the Ptarmigan Wall and completed in 1930 to enable people to ride horses between the Belly River Valley and Many Glacier. Today, it’s a novelty of a bygone era that happens to create a gorgeous trail for backpackers. The Ptarmigan Wall’s shadow falls over us as we descend past Ptarmigan Lake, rippling in the light wind.

Afternoon slides into evening as we walk below peaks that resemble giant cutting tools attempting to dice and chop the infinite sky. At dusk, we stroll into the backpacker campsites in the campground at Many Glacier—wrapping up another day of hiking that would receive no true justice from overused superlatives because the baseline for any day hiking in Glacier is already “great.”

Being in this campground again (I’ve lost track of how many times), I’m reminded of the only aspect of my planning for this trip that barely missed the target: Due largely to the frenzied process of reserving a Glacier backcountry permit (this story explains how to do that), I got a permit that had us arriving at Many Glacier the day after Nells Restaurant at the Swiftcurrent Motel, across the road from the campground, closed for the season. Jeff and I, with two other friends, had camped here one night on a previous backpacking trip and we were looking forward to another real dinner and gut-packing breakfast at Nells; instead, we’ll settle for backpacking food while sitting just a five-minute walk from a closed restaurant. (Before you question whether a restaurant compromises our wilderness experience, understand this: The Many Glacier campground is basically a small town, anyway. But it’s also a strategically located camp for backpackers. Nothing wrong with taking advantage of good food and trimming your pack’s food weight by two meals. As they say, when in Rome…)

Life really isn’t fair.

But considering that the seven-day hike we started yesterday was, of necessity, the best alternative—and a damn good one—to my original route, for which I had a permit, we have many reasons to be happy with the outcome of a situation that could have turned out much worse.

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Bear Trouble Equals Permit Troubles

Here’s a hard truth about backpacking in Glacier National Park: You can succeed at reserving a very hard-to-get backcountry permit, feel the anticipation building for months as your trip approaches, and then arrive at the park to discover that your planned route has been rendered impossible because of recent bear activity—meaning your only option is to try to alter your permit on the spot, creating a new route based on whatever backcountry campgrounds are still available.

And that’s exactly what happened to us.

When Pam and I drove up to the park backcountry office in Apgar Village in the darkness of 6:15 a.m. yesterday to pick up our permit, we stepped out of the car to our first big surprise of the morning. Expecting to see 20 or more people waiting for walk-in permits—the typical situation, and a backcountry ranger had warned me on the phone yesterday to expect a line forming two hours before the office opened at 7:30 a.m.—I found just one guy comprising the entire “line” until I doubled its length. And just one couple joined us before the office opened, the five of us getting to know each other while waiting together. Pam took orders from everyone and made a run to the nearest coffee shop open that early on a Saturday.

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A backpacker hiking past Cosley Lake in Glacier National Park.
Pam Solon backpacking past Cosley Lake in Glacier National Park.

But the propitious spot second in line only gained us a small advantage. Once inside, we encountered our second big surprise of the morning when a backcountry ranger informed us that my original permit reservation for a variation I’d customized of the classic Northern Loop would not work because two of our six camps—Fifty Mountain and Mokowanis Junction—were closed due to bear activity. (Disturbing detail: A bear at Mokowanis had shredded a tent, fortunately while no one was inside. The catalyst was food inside it, a no-no that proved expensive but could have gone much worse.)

And there were no good alternative camp options available for us on that loop or anywhere near it—another bear-related backcountry campground closure west of the Waterton Valley prevented us from hiking a traverse over to Kintla or Bowman Lake.

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Jeff Wilhelm above Oldman Lake along the Dawson Pass Trail in Glacier National Park.

We scrambled to find an alternative route, hoping to preserve a seven-day hike. This ranger, clearly eager to help us, laid out our options for campground availability on our dates. In the end, we walked out of there with an almost completely revamped itinerary, with our first two days unchanged but adding five days following the Continental Divide Trail (CDT) south to Two Medicine. It’s nearly identical to the route Jeff and I backpacked with two other friends five years ago (when we also had to change one day on our itinerary because of bear activity), with just one significant variation.

It feels a little disappointing to miss out on the Northern Loop. But we salvaged a great hike out of a difficult situation that, in reality, can arise anytime in Glacier.

 

After driving around to the east side of the park and arranging a shuttle to our starting trailhead (see details on that in the trip-planning details at the bottom of this story, available exclusively to subscribers), we finally started hiking at 2 p.m. on a bluebird afternoon. It was even a bit hot in the sun, which silhouetted the jagged peaks along the Continental Divide ahead of us. We passed a few backpacker parties, most doing the Northern Loop by banging out two consecutive days of about 20 miles to bypass the closed campgrounds. We stopped at Gros Ventre Falls, then reached our camp at Glenns Lake with a bit of daylight remaining to pitch tents and cook.

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Waterfalls and Lakes

The soft patter of rain on my tent wakes me up around 5:30 a.m. on our fourth day. The showers pause long enough for us to eat and pack up, and then the rain grows more persistent and the wind gathers momentum just as we hit the trail. Low, dark clouds charge across the sky, enshrouding mountaintops. The rain never comes too hard as we round the west shore of St. Mary Lake, passing St. Mary Falls and taking the short, steep spur trail to stand in the mix of rain and waterfall mist at the base of tall Virginia Falls.

By late morning, the rain expends itself and patches of blue sky appear through breaks in the clouds. We hike up a broad valley through a very open, old forest burn where skeletal standing tree trunks occasionally hum softly in the wind—a ghost forest. On both sides, green slopes rise to walls of shattered rock.

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Glenns Lake in Glacier National Park.
Glenns Lake in Glacier National Park.

In the cooking and food-hanging area at our camp at Red Eagle Lake, we meet three guys in their early seventies who’ve been coming to Glacier for 35 years and have, by their estimates, climbed at least half the peaks in the park. Now their trips consist of backpacking here for a week or so and they struggle to get a large portion of their old group of friends to join them each summer. Then six more guys gather with us. All 28, they are friends from college and post-college, plus one guy the rest met in a brewery. I tell them I’m pretty sure that’s how Lewis and Clark filled their expedition: in a brewery. We sit around talking, sharing stories, and laughing until well after dark.

Another chilly start on day five blossoms into another sunny, pleasant day, welcome weather for our plan to hike more than 14 miles. We cross Triple Divide Pass at 7,397 feet, below 8,020-foot Triple Divide Peak, named for the topographical rarity of a mountain draining its waters to three oceans: Pacific, Atlantic, and Arctic. (The three creeks flowing off it are named for their destinations: Pacific, Atlantic, and Hudson Bay.)

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Dawn Mist Falls in Glacier National Park.
Dawn Mist Falls in Glacier National Park.

At the campground at Morning Star Lake, Pam and I spot at least a dozen mountain goats casually grazing the precipitous cliffs across the lake. In the cooking and food-storage area, everyone zipped up inside warm puffy jackets, we talk with three CDT thru-hikers very near the end of their long journey. While eager to finish, they all admit that they will “miss it in a week.”

Later, full darkness falls on this moonless night and the Milky Way spreads itself thickly across the sky.

See my story about a previous backpacking trip that followed this route but with one variation, “Wildness All Around You: Backpacking the CDT Through Glacier,” and all stories about backpacking in Glacier National Park at The Big Outside.

The Gear I Used See my reviews of the outstanding tents (this one and this one), sleeping bag, boots, rain jacket, down jacket, air mattress, stove, and headlamps (this one and this one) I used on this trip.

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Whether you’re a beginner or seasoned backpacker, you’ll learn new tricks for making all of your trips go better in my “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” A Practical Guide to Lightweight and Ultralight Backpacking,” and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.” With a paid subscription to The Big Outside, you can read all of those three stories for free; if you don’t have a subscription, you can download the e-guide versions of “12 Expert Tips for Planning a Backpacking Trip,” the lightweight and ultralight backpacking guide, and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”

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Backpacking the Skyline Trail in Jasper National Park https://thebigoutsideblog.com/backpacking-the-skyline-trail-in-jasper-national-park/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/backpacking-the-skyline-trail-in-jasper-national-park/#comments Sun, 12 Nov 2023 18:12:11 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=60836 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

About three hours into our hike on the Skyline Trail in Canada’s Jasper National Park, a rumble of thunder rips the sky with a sound like a train derailment; moments later, the gray overcast that had rolled overhead maybe 30 minutes earlier starts spraying us with random bursts of raindrops. By the time the five of us have hurried into rain shells and flipped our hoods up, the rain commences in earnest, chauffeured by strong wind just as we emerge from forest into the alpine terrain.

Walking into the full brunt of the weather but dressed for it—and this crew has deep experience with all kinds of nasty weather—we just push on through the rain, motivated by the first taste of the scenery that awaits in greater glory ahead. Plus, we face several more miles of hiking to our first camp on the Skyline Trail in Jasper, the much-less-visited but larger sister park of its joined-at-the-hip sibling, Banff, in the Canadian Rockies.


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Two backpackers hiking the Skyline Trail south of Curator camp in Jasper National Park.
My wife, Penny, and Gary Davis backpacking the Skyline Trail south of Curator camp, Jasper N.P.

Thanks to the mad dash that is the Parks Canada backcountry permit reservation process—in which you must choose a backcountry campground for each night of your trip in real time as availability quickly disappears—and the fact that we’re backpacking one of the most-coveted trails in Canada, we’re starting our Skyline Trail hike with our longest day, 11.8 miles/19 kilometers from the Maligne Lake Trailhead to Curator campground. But that distance draws no more than shrugs in our party of three adults of a “mature age” with countless backpacking miles on our legs and two young women tough and strong enough to possibly carry one of us out if called upon.

I’ve come here with my wife, Penny, our college-age daughter, Alex (summer work commitments kept our son, also in college, from joining us), and friends Gary Davis and his daughter, Adele, also in school and Alex’s best friend since very early childhood, to backpack the Skyline Trail, a three-day, 27.3-mile/44-kilometer, south-north traverse of the Maligne Range just southeast of the town of Jasper. Remaining above treeline for about 15.5 miles/25 kilometers of its distance and riding the crest of a high ridge at times, the Skyline has long been considered a Canadian Rockies classic for its nearly constant panoramas of massive walls of rock and a sea of mountains stretching to distant horizons in every direction.

Backpackers hiking the Skyline Trail in Jasper National Park.
Gary, Adele, and Alex backpacking the Skyline Trail in Jasper National Park.

A ferocious headwind blows the rain at us in waves, although never terribly heavy, as we climb to Little Shovel Pass at just over 7,300 feet/2,225 meters, and follow the trail over undulating alpine terrain flanked by long ridges with peaks over 8,000 feet/2,400 meters. By late afternoon, the rain stops, the sky brightens, and a river of wind dries out the air.

As the sun occasionally peeks through the scudding clouds, the post-storm, early-evening light replays a silent show of shifting colors that’s eons old and still timelessly enchanting. Soft beams of light so brilliant they look three-dimensional bounce from meadow to mountain, burbling creek to bulbous cloud, every element of the landscape absorbing and reflecting long red, orange, and yellow rays of the spectrum.

Two backpackers hiking the Skyline Trail immediately north of the Notch, Jasper National Park.
Adele and Alex backpacking the Skyline Trail immediately north of the Notch (the pass in the background), Jasper National Park.

At Shovel Pass, at 7,600 feet/2,316 meters, we overlook the valley where Curator camp lies beyond sight and a pretty good walk downhill from where we stand. We can clearly see the Skyline contouring around the head of this valley, but we turn onto a faint, sometimes not visible shortcut trail that offers a more direct route to our camp.

Looking for occasional cairns, we descend steeply in spots, knees protesting, past scurrying marmots and patches of bright wildflowers. Just before dinnertime, walk into Curator campground, at 6,781 feet/2,067 meters, grabbing two of the last open tentsites.

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The Vast and Magnificent Canadian Rockies

Every time I go there, I wonder whether there’s a mountain range in the Lower 48 that really compares with the Canadian Rockies. Yes, I’m serious.

To begin to appreciate the Canadian Rockies, first you must conceptualize the scale of this region. The Canadian Rocky Mountain Parks World Heritage Site, which encompasses four contiguous national parks (Banff and Jasper in Alberta and Yoho and Kootenay in British Columbia) and three provincial parks (Mount Robson, Mount Assiniboine, and Hamber, all in B.C.), spans more than 5.8 million acres/almost 2.4 million hectares. That nearly equals the area of Yellowstone, Grand Canyon, Glacier, and Everglades national parks combined.

Jasper reigns as the largest national park in the Canadian Rockies at over 2.7 million acres/1.1 million hectares, compared with Banff’s more than 1.6 million acres/664,100 hectares. The vast majority of Jasper’s land mass comprises pristine mountain wilderness spliced by more than 660 miles/1,200 kilometers of trails.

 

Statistics, of course, are not the reason we are drawn to such places—it’s the scenery. And the majesty of the Canadian Rockies will practically give you chills. Just driving the Trans-Canada Highway or other roads through the region takes you on a tour of endless rows of towering cliffs and peaks with rivers of cracked ice tumbling off them.

Jasper also remains one of the last places in southern Canada with healthy populations of the range of carnivores that have existed here for centuries, including mountain lions, woodland caribou, wolves, wolverines, and grizzly bears. In one afternoon traveling the Icefields Parkway from Banff to Jasper, our two-family group saw from our car windows two gigantic bull elk with racks perhaps broader than my wingspan, a pod of bighorn sheep, and a huge grizzly sow and her two cubs—all of them by the roadside.

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A backpacker hiking the Skyline Trail north toward Tekarra camp, Jasper National Park.
My wife, Penny, backpacking the Skyline Trail in Canada’s Jasper National Park.

Jasper also holds the distinction of being the world’s second-largest Dark Sky Preserve, defined as a place where no artificial light is visible—in part because of active measures taken to reduce light pollution from neighboring communities (including the town of Jasper, located within the park). At night in our camps in the backcountry, I’d look up at a coal-black sky so riddled with glowing constellations of stars that I couldn’t pull my gaze from it until I got so cold that I had to dive back into my tent and bag.

With lower treelines and alpine zones because of their northern latitude, soaring walls of crumbling rock and thousands of glaciers (most of them shrinking and on track to disappear because of climate change), the Canadian Rockies have long been compared in appearance to the Alps—despite not reaching the same heights. But unlike the Alps, for Americans and Canadians, these mountains lie not an ocean away but right next door.

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The Notch and a High Ridge Walk

Leaving Curator camp on our second morning, we follow a connector trail uphill to rejoin the Skyline and continue upward to the nearly flat basin of Curator Lake, at around 7,360 feet/2,243 meters, a blue eye cradled in a barren bowl of rocks, cliffs, sparse vegetation growing no more than ankle- or calf-high, and one of the few lakes along the entire trail.

Marmots bound over the rocky ground, their signature whistling call carrying a distance, while pikas scurry more quickly or stand on hind legs and chirp loudly, and the faster and most numerous Columbian ground squirrels dash away at our approach. But we see few other wild animals, which isn’t terribly surprising: The starkness and openness of the alpine zone that the Skyline crosses for many miles gives large animals that are wary of humans plenty of warning of our approach.

Backpackers hiking the Skyline Trail below Mount Tekarra in Jasper National Park.
Backpacking the Skyline Trail below Mount Tekarra in Jasper National Park.

From Curator Lake, we begin the Skyline’s hardest climb (when hiking south to north, as many people do), the steep and loose slog to the pass known simply as the Notch, at 8,238 feet/2,511 meters—a spot known to hold snow later into summer than anywhere else on the Skyline. Penny chats with a backpacker coming in the other direction who says that yesterday, around the time that afternoon thunderstorm hit us, the wind reached 100 kph (over 60 mph) and rain pounded the long, high, fully exposed ridge traverse that awaits us beyond the Notch.

The words foreshadow, even if imprecisely, what we are walking toward.

The wind blasts through the natural funnel of the Notch, so we don’t linger there very long. Beyond it, we embark on the stretch of the Skyline that embodies its name, where the trail stays atop a ridge crest for two-and-a-half miles/four kilometers with, it seems, all the Canadian Rockies spread out before us. Zipped up inside our shell jackets and leaning into the biting wind, we swing our heads side to side, gazing out at endless mountains and deep valleys cut by braided, glacial rivers.

With everyone ready for lunch, we drop a short distance down off the trail on the lee side of the ridge, taking a break from the hammering wind to eat overlooking several small lakes and tarns in the broad basin of Excelsior Creek, between 8,858-foot/2,700-meter Centre Mountain and 9,157-foot/2,791-meter The Watchtower.

Moving on again, we pass near the top of Amber Mountain at 8,415 feet/2,565 meters, the Skyline wriggling like a snake along this open ridge. Then the trail falls off the ridge, zigzagging downward into another creek valley. With the sun now more out than obscured and us much lower and out of the wind, we shed some layers, though the cool wind remains.

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A backpacker hiking the Skyline Trail below Mount Tekarra in Jasper National Park.
My daughter, Alex, backpacking the Skyline Trail below Mount Tekarra in Jasper National Park.

And the Skyline isn’t finished with showing off to us. The sheer and fluted rock walls of 8,839-foot/2,694-meter Mount Tekarra loom above as we descend this gentle, wide valley past another beautiful lake at the toe of the mountain. From Tekarra campground, the Skyline climbs out of the forest again, granting us one final walk through the alpine zone, looking across a deep valley to yet another long wall of cliffs stretching for miles, glowing in late-afternoon sunlight.

Minutes after the trail drops back into forest, we roll into Signal campground, almost 10 miles/16 kilometers from Curator campground. The mosquitoes are thick here—it is the last day of July, in the middle of peak mosquito season, so this surprises no one. But they don’t bother us much: We’re buzzing viscerally with that excitement of having just completed the sort of exceptional day of hiking through mountains that you remember years later.

See all stories about backpacking in the Canadian Rockies at The Big Outside.

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Backpacking the Desert Oasis of Aravaipa Canyon https://thebigoutsideblog.com/backpacking-the-desert-oasis-of-aravaipa-canyon/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/backpacking-the-desert-oasis-of-aravaipa-canyon/#comments Tue, 17 Oct 2023 20:08:20 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=60529 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

In strong, cool gusts of wind competing against a blazing desert sun, we descend a dusty trail flanked by tall, muscular saguaro and countless small cacti aiming thousands of sharp needles at the legs of anyone who wanders too close to the trail’s edge. Just minutes from the trailhead, we reach the bottom of southern Arizona’s Aravaipa Canyon, splashing across Aravaipa Creek in several strides—the first of scores of crossings we’ll make of this calf-deep, crystal-clear, and cool but not numbing little desert waterway over the next three days.

White puffs of downy pollen float downward like snowflakes from the tall cottonwood trees lining both creek banks, bigger and more abundant than I’ve seen in most Southwest canyons, stretching their thick branches skyward and out over the chattering water. But the cottonwoods represent only the most prominent trees in the dense forest they share with sycamores, ash, and willows as well as ground-level flora here.

A backpacker hiking up Aravaipa Canyon in southern Arizona.
Todd Arndt backpacking up Aravaipa Canyon in southern Arizona.

I’ve come here in early April for three days of backpacking into Aravaipa Canyon, a 12-mile-long defile this creek has carved into the high desert. From the west trailhead at 2,630 feet, my friends Pam and Mark Solon, Mark Fenton, and Todd Arndt and I will backpack almost halfway up the canyon, set up a base camp for two nights, and spend the middle day exploring farther upstream toward the canyon’s upper end.


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Backpackers dayhiking up Arizona's Aravaipa Canyon from a camp lower in the canyon.
Dayhiking up Arizona’s Aravaipa Canyon on our trip’s middle day.

With no maintained trail in the canyon, the five of us and all backpackers and dayhikers here follow whatever user trails get beaten into the sandy ground—or, more often than not, hike directly in the creek, splashing through water that ranges from not too cold to chilly. Heading up the canyon, we alternately walk in the soft sand of user paths and cross or wade against the shallow current.

Flowing out of the Galiuro Mountains, southeast of Phoenix and north of Tucson, this perennial stream creates an oddity in the Grand Canyon state, where most creek beds remain dry washes most of the year: Aravaipa Creek waters a desert oasis.

The lush greenery contrasts starkly against a backdrop of redrock walls that rise as much as 700 feet above the creek. But on the canyon walls and up the often-dry side canyons, the environment shifts abruptly to that of the surrounding, vast Sonoran Desert, with saguaro occupying the numerous cliff ledges like thousands of spectators watching us in a strangely steep-sided, long, narrow, and winding stadium.

This combination creates the rare kind of Southwest oasis where those two very different environments blend green forest and red walls, reminiscent of Zion’s Narrows, southern Utah’s Coyote Gulch, and some tributaries of the Grand Canyon, like Tapeats and Deer creeks on the Thunder River-Deer Creek Loop and Royal Arch Canyon and Elves Chasm on the Royal Arch Loop.

About five miles up the canyon, we stop at one of a few large, sandy campsites in the forest near the mouth of Horse Camp Canyon, pitch our tents; and after dinner, sit around a campfire while night slowly spreads throughout this quiet canyon. Eventually, the stars emerge, first slowly and then rapidly, until thousands of specks liberally salt the ink-black sky. 

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A Tiny Wilderness Oasis in the Sonoran Desert

A backpacker dayhiking up Arizona's Aravaipa Canyon from a camp lower in the canyon.
Todd Arndt dayhiking up Arizona’s Aravaipa Canyon on our trip’s middle day.

“Ara-what?” That was my reaction when I first heard about this place from a friend—whose advice to go there I wisely followed. (Thanks, John.) Aravaipa is an Apache name (some say Pima, others say Papago) and the commonly accepted meaning is ”laughing waters”—a fact I learned when an online search for that answer turned up a New York Times article from 1982 written by none other than America’s desert sage, Ed Abbey.

Although tiny compared to many more-famous federal wilderness areas, the 19,410-acre Aravaipa Canyon Wilderness, managed by the Bureau of Land Management in southeast Arizona, stands out as an anomalous oasis in the hyper-arid Sonoran Desert. Aravaipa Creek flows strongly year-round, nurturing tall cottonwood, sycamore, ash, and willow trees in the canyon bottom, while saguaro and other cacti desert flora grow on the canyon walls and rims.

With easy, nearly flat hiking often in the shallow river, none of the hazards or obstacles typical of Southwest desert backpacking trips, like flash floods or pour-offs found in tighter canyons, abundant water and shade, the low elevation and the southern Arizona climate, Aravaipa offers a pretty casual and beautiful adventure in spring and fall—with a season that extends longer than that of many Southwest canyon hikes, from March into May and late September through November. Fall paints the canyon in brilliant hues of red and gold.

Exploring Aravaipa Canyon

In the morning, we awaken to very strong and frigid wind hurtling down the canyon, buffeting our tents and threatening to carry off anything not weighted down—and the sun’s warmth won’t reach our camp in the canyon bottom until mid-morning. We all pull on fat down jackets (and I’m particularly happy to have brought a wearable sleeping bag)—except for Mark Fenton, who brought an insulated jacket that looks at least 20 years old and has virtually no loft left. Mark calls this former puffy jacket—now essentially nothing more than an overweight wind shell—his “flatty.”

Pam shouts and points at a clearing near our camp, where a pair of javelinas sprint through the forest. Pig-like in appearance, although they’re actually ungulates that live in the deep Southwest, javelinas can grow to about 175 pounds, although the two we glimpse briefly look more the size of small but very well-fed dogs. Before this day’s out, we’ll also see wild turkeys, several deer, and a great blue heron that takes flight at our slow approach but keeps returning to our vicinity, as if guiding us back to our camp.

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A backpacker dayhiking up Arizona's Aravaipa Canyon from a camp lower in the canyon.
Mark Solon dayhiking up Arizona’s Aravaipa Canyon on our trip’s middle day.

Setting out to dayhike up the canyon, we first try exploring a side canyon, Horse Camp, located across the creek from our camp. But big rocks that have fallen off the cliffs overhead and thick desert flora clog its mouth, leaving it virtually impassable—at least short of clambering over massive boulders of indeterminate stability and shredding our clothes and skin bushwhacking through the thorny brush, an adventure holding zero appeal to any of us.

It doesn’t matter. Simply hiking up Aravaipa Canyon delivers a full experience of this special place. Plus, the main canyon offers shade from the hot desert sun and the constantly cooling effect of walking in the creek—not to mention much more interesting and denser flora growing along the creek—while many of the side canyons are often dry, with little or no shade.

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Backpackers camped near Horse Camp Canyon in Arizona's Aravaipa Canyon.
Our camp near Horse Camp Canyon in Arizona’s Aravaipa Canyon.

In the upper canyon, not far from the East Trailhead, the cliffs rise taller and more vertiginous; the forest also opens up, giving us more constant, broad vistas. We walk in the shallow river much of the time, where big cottonwoods often extend their canopies over the river, forming a sort of green tunnel. It’s one of Aravaipa’s nicest sections.

A great blue heron lifts off from the creek shallows by one bank and glides almost effortlessly upstream, setting down again a distance from us. We approach it more slowly, hoping not to spook the magnificent bird. As we watch, it grows as still as a statue for several minutes, not making even a twitch or slight turn of its head; if we had not seen where it landed, it would have blended entirely into the background, disappearing from our sight. Then, suddenly, the heron snaps out of its motionlessness, lunging head-first into the creek and emerging with a fish in its beak, gulping it down in an instant.

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Hiking Out, It’s All New Again

On our last morning, we pack up and leave camp at 9 a.m., just as morning light floods the canyon, lending it contrast and depth that brightens all the colors and makes our surroundings look deeper, broader, and taller.

Although we’re now backtracking the five miles we hiked in on day one, in a way, it all seems new because the canyon takes so many twists and turns and changes so much—especially with the light completely different now, in the morning, compared to when we hiked up the canyon on our first afternoon. We recall very few spots while walking the same terrain a second time. We all repeatedly just shuffle slowly along or stop and spin in a slow circle, gaping.

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Backpackers in Aravaipa Canyon, Arizona.
Backpacking out to the West Trailhead on our last day in Aravaipa Canyon, Arizona. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan your trip.

I point out to my friends that I haven’t really broken a sweat on this entire hike: We’ve had very pleasant daytime temperatures ranging from around 50 to 70 Fahrenheit—except for our one windy and chilly morning with a low in the 30s in camp—plus a lovely breeze in this first week of April.

It’s small and may seem like a short hike, especially if you’re traveling some distance to get here. But there’s much to like about Aravaipa Canyon.

Mark Solon says, “I give this hike a 10 plus a bullet—an 11.”

On the same Southwest trip that we backpacked in Aravaipa Canyon in early April, three of us from that group also backpacked one of the finest three-day sections of the Arizona Trail, Passage 16, during a wildflower superbloom. See my story about that surprisingly beautiful hike.

The Gear I Used See my reviews of the outstanding backpack, ultralight tent, sleeping bag, down jacket, ultralight wind shell, sun hoody, trekking poles, air mattress, stove, and headlamp I used on this trip.

See also my Gear Reviews page for best-in-category reviews and expert buying tips, including these stories:

Essentials-Only Backpacking Gear Checklist
The 10 Best Backpacking Packs
The Best Ultralight Packs
The 10 Best Backpacking Tents
The Best Ultralight Hiking and Running Jackets
25 Essential Backpacking Gear Accessories
The Best Base Layers, Shorts, and Socks for Hiking and Running
The 10 Best Down Jackets

Whether you’re a beginner or seasoned backpacker, you’ll learn new tricks for making all of your trips go better in my “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” A Practical Guide to Lightweight and Ultralight Backpacking,” and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.” With a paid subscription to The Big Outside, you can read all of those three stories for free; if you don’t have a subscription, you can download the e-guide versions of “12 Expert Tips for Planning a Backpacking Trip,” the lightweight and ultralight backpacking guide, and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”

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The 9 Hardest Lessons for Parents Who Love the Outdoors https://thebigoutsideblog.com/the-9-hardest-lessons-for-parents-who-love-the-outdoors/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/the-9-hardest-lessons-for-parents-who-love-the-outdoors/#comments Sun, 01 Oct 2023 09:07:05 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=48267 Read on

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A Manual for Staying Sane Through the Greatest Adventure of Your Life

By Michael Lanza

Raising children is a lot of work—any parent knows that. But for people who love the outdoors, combining parenting with their passion for hiking, backpacking, skiing, camping, climbing, kayaking, or other outdoor activities poses added challenges.

In many ways, at least when children are young, what you do outside with them is both easier than what you did outside before you had kids (you regress to beginner level) and exponentially harder (for all the cat herding and stuff-management involved). The rewards can seem elusive. You may wonder whether it’s worth the time and effort. The Complaint Department stays open 24-7 and you’re the embattled manager.

A family on a hike in Idaho's City of Rocks National Reserve.
My family on a hike in Idaho’s City of Rocks National Reserve. Click photo to read my “10 Tips for Raising Outdoors-Loving Kids.”

Well, I have good news for you.

After two-plus decades as parents—including my 10 years as the Northwest Editor of Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog—my wife and I have taken our kids on more outdoors trips than we can count over the years. And those adventures have proven wonderful and brought us closer as a family.

I’ve put together what I consider the nine hardest lessons in parenting for parents who love the outdoors. While the title sounds ominous, I believe you will find the following tips both a manual for managing your family outdoor adventures and a self-help guide to preparing yourself—as much as is possible—for an alternately dizzying and delightful journey and the greatest adventure of your life.

Please share any thoughts, tips, or questions you have in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments. Click on any photo to read about that trip (most of which require a paid subscription to read in full).

See my affordable, expert e-guides to numerous trips, including some classic adventures appropriate for families and beginners, and my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you plan any of these classic adventures, variations of them, or any trip you read about at The Big Outside.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-guides to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A young boy backpacking the Olympic coast near Strawberry Point, Olympic National Park.
My son, Nate, backpacking the Olympic coast near Strawberry Point, Olympic National Park.

1. Stop Believing You Will Be on Schedule. You Never Will. Ever.

With the steadfast and laudable optimism of someone who has often known success outdoors, you will plan ambitious trips with your family—including a specific departure time. You might as well try to predict when the next asteroid that wipes out most life on the planet will collide with the Earth.

Young family at Skillern Hot Springs, Smoky Mountains, Idaho.
My family on an early backpacking trip in Idaho’s Smoky Mountains.

You could plan a departure time for every trip your family takes, for years, and never meet it. You could double the amount of time you reserve for packing and double it again; and just when you think you will get out the door at the appointed time, someone’s diaper needs changing, or someone can’t find gloves, or someone just discovered the boots/jacket/pants (fill in the blank) he or she wore on the last trip don’t fit now. 

Or while one preschool child has taken 25 minutes to put his clothes on inside out, the other will insist she was never told to get dressed. Or the kids that weren’t hungry when you said, “Eat now,” are suddenly acting as if their last meal occurred days ago. 

Accept this brutally honest advice: Scrub the concepts “schedule” and “on time” from your mind—at least during those early years. Set your expected departure time for a broadly approximate window, like “morning,” or more safely, “afternoon.” 

You are playing with forces far beyond your control; do not delude yourself into believing otherwise. Sometimes lowering expectations makes life easier and reduces stress more than anything else you can do.

Want to take your family backpacking? See these expert e-guides:
The Best Short Backpacking Trip in Grand Teton National Park
The Best First Backpacking Trip in Yosemite
The Best Backpacking Trip in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains

Woman and two young children backpacking the West Rim Trail in Zion National Park.
My wife, Penny, with our kids, Nate and Alex, on a family backpacking trip in Zion National Park.

2. You Will Amass Way Too Much Stuff

No matter how many children you have—one, two, or more—they do not merely increase the work of organizing and packing for a trip in proportion to their number; they magnify it exponentially. In a world that follows the physical laws that you have always known, it will not seem possible that packing up a family can require so much more stuff than you needed before kids. But there it is.

You and your spouse may reminisce nostalgically, with amusement, about a pre-children summer spent living out of a little car and sleeping every night in a small tent while hiking and backpacking around the West. (Did that.) Or how you existed perfectly comfortably on everything you could fit inside two backpacks while trekking for weeks through some Third World country. (Yup, did that, too.) 

But you are not those people anymore. The total worth of your possessions may, in fact, exceed the GDP of a Third World country you once visited.

And there’s no turning back (not until your kids are grown, anyway). This is your life and it fills a small warehouse. Deal with it.

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A teenage boy and tweener girl standing on the crater rim of Mount St. Helens, Washington.
My son, Nate, and daughter, Alex, standing on the crater rim of Mount St. Helens, Washington.

3. You Will Forget Important Stuff

With maddening consistency—and in spite of your numerous checks before leaving home that everyone has everything they need—you will get 15 minutes down the road and realize you’ve forgotten a critical stuffed animal, piece of gear, or child’s jacket or sunglasses. And you will turn back and retrieve those forgotten items because keeping everyone happy ranks higher in importance than what time you reach your destination.

Do not be shocked to find yourself hours from home, driving up a dirt road to a trailhead where you will begin a family backpacking trip, and suddenly realize that one child has somehow left at home every article of insulation and outerwear he was supposed to put in his backpack—even though you had made sure he had them all out and ready to pack when you were at home. (Been there, done that).

But going against all rules you have always followed, you may go right ahead and press on with this trip, because the forecast looks good—and you know full well that when your child needs a rain jacket during a sudden thunderstorm or a down jacket in camp, it is you who will go without them. And you will survive and be glad you did it.

I can help you plan the best backpacking, hiking, or family adventure of your life.
Click here now to learn more.

A young girl backpacking the High Sierra Trail above Hamilton Lakes, Sequoia National Park.
My daughter, Alex, backpacking the High Sierra Trail above Hamilton Lakes, Sequoia National Park (also shown in lead photo at top of story).

4. The Wilderness is Not Child-Proof

When our first child was nearly a year old, we spent a couple of months hiking and backpacking around the U.S. West and Canadian Rockies with him. Even though he would not remember a thing, it seemed to us a good way for our son to spend the first summer of his life.

For the most part, we had a wonderful time—even laughing about how much less ambitious this trip was compared to the extended summer road trips my wife and I took pre-children (which now seem like another lifetime).

That summer on the road with our infant son, like NASCAR pit crews, my wife and I quickly became pros at ripping off a loaded diaper and slapping on a freshy while gale-force winds blew through a mountain pass. I’m not sure how many times we caught him looking like he had a mouthful of grapes as one of us changed his diaper on the ground, prompting the other to dig a finger around inside his mouth to excavate the stones he’d stuffed in there.

I don’t know how he stealthily loaded pebbles into his mouth under our watchful gaze. But he may have consumed enough stones that summer to cover a small beach on the coast of Maine.

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Two young kids backpacking at Upper Lyman Lakes in Washington's Glacier Peak Wilderness.
Alex and Nate at Upper Lyman Lakes in Washington’s Glacier Peak Wilderness.

5. You Will Survive a Torpid Hiking Pace and Mind-Numbing Games

You might insist to yourself that your family will not greatly affect the pace of adventure you enjoyed pre-kids. Unfortunately, your young children will not sign up for that program.

Young boy and man in a slot canyon in Capitol Reef National Park.
Nate and our guide Steve Howe, in a slot canyon in Capitol Reef National Park.

You will hike at a slower pace than you’ve ever imagined possible. If backpacking, you will walk that slowly while carrying a pack weighing approximately as much as a bison calf—and because of that, you may come to appreciate the frequent stops to let your children throw stones in a stream, or hit a stone with a stick (or a stick with a stone), or give you a detailed explanation of how to weaponize any object found in nature.

To help your child pass the time while hiking, you will play a game. Some of these may be fun, like the Story Game, where everyone takes turns adding to the plot of a made-up story—which then takes many humorous turns. I also spent untold hours playing a game with my young daughter that we called the Number Game, in which we took turns guessing which number between one and 20 we were each thinking of. This could entertain my daughter for hours beyond the point at which I had grown bored—but it kept her engaged and happy so I did it.

This can be an especially difficult truth for parents who have been hard-driving, Type-A outdoors enthusiasts and struggle with the notion of slowing down. I know—I went through this arduous transition and it took me years.

But I can tell you this: When you finally learn to enjoy the slower pace, you may discover that the joy is truly found not in the destination, but in the journey.

Planning your next big adventure? See “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips
and “The 25 Best National Park Dayhikes.”

A teenage boy dayhiking in the Presidential Range, N.H.
Nate, at age 14, on a 17-mile, four-summit dayhike in the Presidential Range, N.H.

6. Sometimes, You’re All Alone

Your kids will gang up against you when they don’t want to do what you’ve planned. Your spouse will run for the hills to avoid fighting that battle with kids. Or your partner may be away and your children—because they are evolutionarily closer to our primate cousins than adults are—will instinctively recognize their numerical advantage and stage a successful coup without a drop of blood shed.

Sometimes, you must simply confront the cold truth and retreat to survive and fight another day.

Planning a backpacking trip? See “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips
and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”

Two young girls backpacking Paria Canyon in southern Utah and northern Arizona.
Alex and friend Sofi backpacking Paria Canyon in southern Utah and northern Arizona.

7. Sometimes, It Just Isn’t Fun…

Unlike when you were young, single, childless, when you strummed guitars, sang, and drank around a campfire and thought you all sounded really good (you didn’t), when your children are really little, going camping is often much more work than fun. 

You may be slow to come to this realization, actually going so far as to believe it’s a good idea to drive with little kids on a Friday night to a distant campground, arriving near midnight with children now so wired (they didn’t sleep in the car as you had laid out in your brilliant plan) that they stay awake, crawling over you to hurl themselves against the tent walls, until an hour when you’re long past exhaustion.

See my “10 Tips for Taking Kids on Their First Backpacking Trip
and my very popular “10 Tips For Raising Outdoors-Loving Kids.”

Backpackers on the Chain Lakes Atwood Trail 43 at Roberts Pass, High Uintas Wilderness, Utah.
Alex, then 17, and her friend, Adele, backpacking the Chain Lakes Atwood Trail 43 over Roberts Pass, High Uintas Wilderness, Utah.

8. … But You Will Do It, Anyway, and It Will Pay Off

Teenage girl trekking the Tour du Mont Blanc.
Alex trekking the Tour du Mont Blanc in the Alps.

You will do it because—in your heart and your gut, in the marrow of your bones—you must get outside for your own health, happiness, and sanity. You will do this with your children not just because you believe it’s good for them, but because, otherwise, you would get outside less often—and that is simply not an acceptable vision of life to you.

And miraculously, your persistence and determination will pay off. 

You may begin to see a change occur in children early in grade school, when they cross another threshold of physical development every year and they can do more. They steadily gain the emotional maturity to get through the discomfort of a hike.

Your kid may even pick up an outdoor sport that’s outside your experience base, like climbing or whitewater kayaking, and dive into it with an enthusiasm that makes you smile uncontrollably (even as you worry about for his/her safety)—and maybe even take it up yourself.

And you will discover, to your surprise and delight, that experiencing a place familiar to you becomes new and awe-inspiring again when you relive it through your children.

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Backpackers on Trail 154 to Cramer Divide in Idaho's Sawtooth Mountains.
Nate, at 17, backpacking with two buddies up Trail 154 to Cramer Divide in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains, along the Idaho Wilderness Trail.

9. You Will Actually Miss This Craziness

You will stumble upon a photo of your children from five or seven or 10 or 15 years ago and marvel over the metamorphosis they have gone through in a period of time that feels impossibly short to you.

They will grow increasingly more independent (even as they still rely on you for so much). And you will inevitably watch them drift away, like a piece of paper snatched up by the wind and carried off before you can grab it.

A truth then reveals itself to you: Unlike that paper flying off, these years are not an object you can possess—they are an ephemeral time of life and you are just a passenger on a journey over which you exert limited control.

Time for a better backpack? See my picks for “The 10 Best Backpacking Packs” and the best ultralight backpacks.

A family trekking through Spain's Picos de Europa National Park.
My family trekking through Spain’s Picos de Europa National Park.

As my kids now chart their own paths into young adulthood, even as I’m happy for and proud of who they have become, I miss, just a little bit, that craziness of backpacking, skiing, climbing, and paddling with them while they were young and brimming with wonder and joy—when having the undivided attention of their parents mattered most to them.

That’s the hardest lesson of raising children. 

Michael Lanza of The Big Outside with his family in July 2022 on a hut-to-hut trek in Iceland.
My family in July 2022 on a hut-to-hut trek in Iceland.

But I also see how much all that we did outdoors as a family has formed who they are today: How both of our kids chose to attend a college near mountains. How the challenges of a rigorous hut trek through biting, fierce wind and an unexpected June snowstorm in unfamiliar peaks thrills them. How they still long, as much as ever, to take family adventures together.

Embrace these truths, because they will help you grasp the urgency of seizing every opportunity you get to spend a week, a day, an hour, or a few minutes with your child—outdoors whenever possible, but indoors, too. 

In the long run, you will never regret whatever you pushed aside for those fleeting moments.

See all stories about family adventures at The Big Outside, including:

A Survival Guide For the Outdoors Lover Who’s a New Parent
10 Tips For Raising Outdoors-Loving Kids
Why I Endanger My Kids in the Wilderness (Even Though It Scares the Sh!t Out of Me)
Boy Trip, Girl Trip: Why I Take Father-Son and Father-Daughter Adventures
The 10 Best Family Adventure Trips

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5 Tips For Hiking With Young Kids From an Outdoors Dad https://thebigoutsideblog.com/5-tricks-for-getting-tired-kids-through-a-hike/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/5-tricks-for-getting-tired-kids-through-a-hike/#comments Thu, 15 Jun 2023 09:01:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=7898 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

After hiking 1,000 vertical feet uphill on the dusty Upper Yosemite Falls Trail in Yosemite Valley, baking under a thermonuclear Sierra sun, we sat on rocks for a snack and a much-needed break. My seven-year-old daughter, unprompted, blurted out, “I’m tired and hungry!” My nine-year-old son was still fuming over having been woken up earlier than he prefers (which was 11 a.m.) for this hike—although we were broiling in the sun precisely because we didn’t start even earlier, when it was cooler. He groused, “If you’re going to wake me up that early, it’s your fault if I complain.”

It was looking like my plan to hike my kids and my 12-year-old nephew 3,000 feet and nearly four miles uphill to the brink of Upper Yosemite Falls—and then, of course, back down—was on the express bus to the graveyard for dumb ideas from overzealous hiker-dads.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-guides to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


Upper Yosemite Falls Trail, Yosemite Valley.
My family on the Upper Yosemite Falls Trail, Yosemite Valley.

But minutes beyond that moment of epidemic disgruntlement in Yosemite Valley, we rounded a bend to our first view of Upper Yosemite Falls plunging over a sheer cliff through a vertical quarter-mile of air, creating a cloud of mist that rained onto the trail. That—and stuffing their bellies with food—spun the kids’ attitudes 180 degrees. They alternately walked and ran the remaining 2,000 feet of that ascent.

Hike, backpack, cross-country ski, or do anything rigorous outdoors with kids regularly, and there will inevitably come a time when you have an unhappy child who’s complaining he can’t take another step without severe consequences, possibly including death. (Or at least, my kids have been that hyperbolic.) You’re out on the trail, still on the hike—you can’t just call a cab.

Hiking Monitor Ridge on Mount St. Helens.
My daughter, Alex, hiking Monitor Ridge on Mount St. Helens.

What’s a parent to do?

First and foremost, picking a hike that inspires kids will go far in making the outing successful—that partly explained our kids’ positive turnaround in Yosemite. But that was also because I employed other tactics to energize the kids—and you can’t always count on having a 1,400-foot waterfall in your corner.

This article shares tricks I’ve learned while taking our kids—now young adults and eager dayhikers, backpackers, skiers, climbers, and whitewater paddlers—on numerous, mostly successful family adventures since they were quite little, and through my many years as Northwest Editor of Backpacker magazine and running this blog.

As they did for me, I think these tips will help you get young kids through difficult moments on a hike or any outdoor adventure. Please share your thoughts on them or your own tips in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

1. Take It Easy

Hiking Mount St. Helens in July with the same three kids who were on that Upper Yosemite Falls hike—but three years older at age 10, 12, and 15—I wasn’t entirely sure everyone would have the stamina for it, especially my daughter, the youngest.

Compounding the challenge was the fact that we needed an early start to what would be a long day—meaning not as much sleep as would be ideal. But all three did surprisingly well, practically running down the trail at the end of an 11-hour, 10-mile, 4,500-vertical-foot day.

Why? Besides it being an amazing hike, and the kids feeling a powerful sense of accomplishment, I’m convinced the real key was our slow but steady pace and frequent, short breaks. Although that requires monitoring the time and your progress to avoid finishing really late, our pace and rests gave their small bodies time to recover.

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Young girls snacking while hiking in the Needles District of Canyonlands National Park.
My daughter, Alex (middle), with friends Sofi and Lili on a backpacking trip in the Needles District of Canyonlands National Park.

2. Feed Them More

I could relate an anecdote from just about every family dayhike and backpacking trip we’ve ever taken to illustrate this point. But I’ll describe a moment from that Upper Yosemite Falls hike. A bit more than halfway up, the two boys, excited by the waterfall’s rain of mist, had dashed ahead. My daughter, however, looked ready for a nap. We sat down together and I gave her a big energy bar—which she proceeded to inhale like a snake gulping down a vole. Minutes later, she jumped to her feet and ran after the boys, fully rejuvenated.

Time and again I’ve been reminded: A grumpy kid is often just a hungry kid. They don’t have the fat and energy reserves of adults. Feed them frequently and remind them to drink. Bring food they like that can deliver energy—chocolate, nuts, cheese, bagels, dried or fresh fruit, peanut butter, turkey sandwiches (you get the idea)—and energy drinks if that gets them to drink more.

I can help you plan the best backpacking, hiking, or family adventure of your life.
Find out more here.

Young kids backpacking the Spray Park Trail in Mount Rainier National Park.
My kids backpacking the Spray Park Trail in Mount Rainier National Park.

3. Watch and Listen

My family was backpacking in Mount Rainier National Park, ascending a steep trail, when our son said he wanted to stop and eat lunch immediately. With no place to sit or even drop our packs nearby, we urged him to walk just a little farther, to the top of the switchbacks. His meltdown happened before we got there. He got over it quickly, and was transformed and smiling again after we finally stopped and ate. But we could have avoided that—and kept him happier, which is the goal when taking kids outdoors—by just stopping when he needed to.

The lesson: Don’t be so focused on your objective that you overlook the condition of your charges. When kids obviously need a break and some fuel, just stop, even if it’s not on your schedule. Everyone will be happier.

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A family trekking the Alta Via 2 in Parco Naturale Puez-Odle, Dolomite Mountains, Italy.
My family trekking the Alta Via 2 in Parco Naturale Puez-Odle, Dolomite Mountains, Italy.

4. Just Talk

Hikers seeking quiet might not want to follow my family on a trail. We talk a lot—mostly, I’m happy to say, because our kids like talking to my wife and me. Kids, particularly pre-teens, thrive on attention from their parents, especially when we’re interested in what our children want to tell us. One of the best aspects of getting outdoors as a family is how it affords you rare hours of uninterrupted time to just talk and listen.

So chat them up. Play word games. Talk about whatever interests them; their favorite computer game, movie, or book may not top your list, but they will be excited that you want to hear about it. (And your willingness to listen with interest can help put kids at ease when having more difficult conversations about what’s going on in their lives as they get older.)

Most of all, give your kids your full attention.

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A young boy backpacking the Tonto Trail in the Grand Canyon.
My son, Nate, backpacking the Tonto Trail in the Grand Canyon.

5. Empower Your Child To Do Well

It was late afternoon on what had already been a long, third day of hiking during a four-day backpacking trip in the Grand Canyon. But we had to walk another couple of hours to make sure the next day—with a big uphill climb—would be manageable for our kids. We took a long break to rest and fill up on water.

I could see my son looked tired. I told him, “The others are tired. I’m going to need you to be a leader and help me encourage everyone else.” He eagerly embraced the responsibility—and never once complained that he was tired.

Create a dynamic in which a kid wants to do well. Tell a child she’s a good hiker, and she will come to self-identify in that way and take pride and ownership in that.

See my “7 Tips for Getting Your Family on Outdoor Adventure Trips.”

Learn “Why I Endanger My Kids in the Wilderness (Even Though It Scares the Sh!t Out of Me)

A young girl at Kaweah Gap in Sequoia National Park.
Alex at Kaweah Gap on a family backpacking trip in Sequoia National Park.

Bonus Tip

Okay, there’s one more trick—an old one many parents already know but may not think of when they have an unhappy child on their hands: Promise them ice cream. Or a favorite dinner. Or something special once the hike is over. My kids and nephew practically ran back down the Upper Yosemite Falls Trail when we said they’d get more pool time at the hotel if we got down quickly.

And the next day, descending from a hike up the Mist Trail to Vernal Fall and Nevada Fall, my daughter slipped and fell, skinning her knee and palms. So I walked with her the rest of the way (my wife, son, and nephew ahead of us), playing a game in which we guessed what number between one and 20 the other was thinking of. I bet her an ice cream that she couldn’t guess exactly right—and I made sure she was right.

See my stories “10 Tips For Raising Outdoors-Loving Kids,” “10 Tips For Getting Your Teenager Outdoors With You,” and “10 Tips For Keeping Kids Happy and Safe Outdoors,” and all stories about family adventures at The Big Outside.

See also my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you plan your next family adventure.

You live for the outdoors. The Big Outside helps you get out there.
Join now to read ALL stories and get a free e-guide and member gear discounts!

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10 Tips For Keeping Kids Happy and Safe Outdoors https://thebigoutsideblog.com/10-tips-for-keeping-kids-happy-and-safe-outdoors/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/10-tips-for-keeping-kids-happy-and-safe-outdoors/#comments Thu, 15 Jun 2023 09:00:47 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=7398 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Some people might say my wife and I are bad parents. We’ve repeatedly and deliberately placed our kids—at young ages—in risky situations. And I’m not talking about letting them ride their bikes without wearing helmets or frequently taking them to McDonald’s.

I’m talking about setting out with seven- and four-year-old kids to cross-country ski through a snowstorm for hours to a backcountry yurt. Tying a six-year-old into a rope and letting him or her rock climb a cliff. Rappelling into slot canyons. Backpacking into the remotest and most rugged wildernesses in the contiguous United States, from the Grand Canyon to the Tetons to Glacier National Park.

Rafting and kayaking a whitewater river deep in one of the Lower 48’s biggest wilderness areas. Paddling down a river teeming with alligators, or in frigid Alaskan waters plied by killer whales, while camping on wilderness beaches where brown bears would view those kids as the perfect hors d’oeuvres before a satisfying meal of adult humans. Trekking for a week through the snow-covered, highest peaks in northern Europe.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-guides to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


A young boy getting lowered on a rope in a slot canyon in Capitol Reef National Park.
My son, Nate, getting lowered on a rope in a slot canyon in Capitol Reef National Park.

And yet, beyond occasional whining and tears (which I do less of these days than I did as a new parent), we have suffered no disasters. Maybe we’ve just been lucky.

But I don’t think so.

It’s tempting to believe that you only have to take kids outdoors and nature will do the rest—because spontaneity is inherently better than micro-managing, right? But experience has taught me that how diligently the adults in charge control the situation will dictate how well the outing goes and how positive an experience everyone has, adults and children.

Through a lot of trial and a fair bit of error, I’ve learned a few things over the years about keeping kids, at all ages, both safe and happy outdoors—and when it comes down to it, safe and happy are always our ultimate objectives out there.

The good news is that whether you’re paddling among alligators or just out for a short hike in a state or national park with little kids, the strategies for success boil down to some simple rules that are as easy to follow as they are to overlook.

This article shares lessons I’ve learned while taking our kids—who today are fine young adults who make us proud and still love getting outdoors on trips with us—on numerous family adventures dayhiking, backpacking, climbing, skiing, and paddling since they were quite little, a period of time that included the 10 years I spent as Northwest Editor of Backpacker magazine and my many years running this blog.

Keep these 10 rules in mind and I think you will find that, as with my family and others that join us, everyone will be happy—most of the time, anyway. And safe.

Click on any photo to read about that trip. Please share your thoughts on my advice or your own tips or questions in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

Hikers on the crater rim of Mount St. Helens, with Mount Adams in the distance.
My kids, nephew, and mother on the crater rim of Mount St. Helens, with Mount Adams in the distance.

1. Know Everyone’s Limits

When I was thinking about attempting a three-generation hike up Mount St. Helens, I was most concerned about the two people who would be the slowest and weakest in the group: the youngest person, my 10-year-old daughter, and the oldest, my 76-year-old mom. So I discussed the plans in detail with everyone who was going: how long it would take us, and how hard it would be both in concrete numbers (10 miles and 4,500 vertical feet) as well as comparing it to the difficulty of other activities they had done before. And I only considered hiking St. Helens with them because everyone had previously done well on hikes that were nearly as difficult.

This is my first rule because it’s so important, and yet incredibly easy to forget: Your group’s limits will be determined by the weakest member. At best, ignoring this can result in much loud complaining and bad feelings; at worst, someone could end up hurt, you may finish the day hours later than planned (with everyone exhausted, starving, and unhappy), and children may have a lasting negative impression of the event.

On the other hand, knowing and respecting everyone’s limits allows you to challenge those limits without undo risk and with the potential for huge emotional rewards for everyone: My family all made it up Mount St. Helens—and back down—and reaped the rewards of tremendous pride and self-satisfaction.

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A family hiking the Upper Yosemite Falls Trail in Yosemite Valley.
My family hiking the Upper Yosemite Falls Trail in Yosemite Valley.

2. Make Sure They Sleep Enough

This may seem like “duh” advice, but it’s remarkably easy to overschedule our kids just as we overschedule ourselves, resulting in an entire family of sleep-deprived people—not a fun group to hang out with. This is my second rule because it’s important enough to be interchangeable with my first rule, and I’ve found it rings just as true with grade-school kids and teenagers as it did when my kids were toddlers and preschoolers.

Before any trip, I make an extra effort to see that my kids get to bed at a decent hour. If I plan to wake them up earlier than usual for, say, a big day of hiking, I let them know in advance and get their buy-in with the plan. When camping, it’s easy to stay up later than usual, which is fun and fine occasionally. But too many late nights will catch up with them (and it’s hard to sleep late in the morning outside because of daylight), and studies show that a regular sleep schedule is the key to being well rested. Be aware of the time and whether your kids need to hit the sack.

See “Boy Trip, Girl Trip: Why I Take Father-Son and Father-Daughter Adventures

Young girls cross-country skiing to a backcountry yurt in Idaho's Boise National Forest.
My daughter, Alex, right, and friend Lili cross-country skiing to a backcountry yurt in Idaho’s Boise National Forest.

3. Are They Warm Enough?

Your child’s body is not like yours, so don’t assume you will experience hot and cold identically. You may be hiking or skiing the same trail in the same air temperature, but kids can warm up more quickly because of their different metabolism and because they often simply move around more than adults. At the same time, they often cool down more quickly when stationary because they typically have much less body fat and mass.

Children don’t pay close attention to their own bodies until they’re really uncomfortable. Ask them regularly, “Are you warm enough?” Even when they say, “Yes,” their faces or body language may say, “No.” Look for signs that they’re cold in their posture, or reduced activity level, shivering, or blue lips. Tell them to add a layer if a cool wind kicks up, before they’re cold, or to shed a layer if you’re beginning a hot climb, before they’re sweating heavily (wet clothes can make them cold later).

Babies, of course, can’t tell you they’re too hot or cold—although crying may be a signal. A trick I used was to periodically check a baby’s or toddler’s fingers or feet, because those get cold first. On the other hand, you can overdress a young child, too. (Guilty.) If his or her face feels unusually warm, unzip or remove a layer of clothing.

One advantage with babies: You carry them, so they’re not cycling between warm and cold due to shifting exertion level. Keep in mind that wind plays a big factor when dressing a baby—put a windproof layer on her when needed, but not in calm air when it can make a baby too warm. Also, a baby in a carrier on your chest or back receives a fair bit of warmth from you.

I can help you plan the best backpacking, hiking, or family adventure of your life.
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A young girl hiking in Sequoia National Park.
My daughter, Alex, on a family backpacking trip in Sequoia National Park.

4. Shovel Food and Drinks At Them

I cannot even estimate how many times I’ve been reminded that a kid who’s complaining about being tired is usually just hungry. Give him a big candy bar or a sandwich. Children need to eat more frequently than adults—sometimes every hour.

Look for warning signs: grumpiness, a slowing pace, growing quiet, or a faraway look. Feed them pre-emptively—before they tell you, “I’m starving!” Ditto with water. But because most kids are sippers rather than gulpers, remind them every 15 or 20 minutes, “Everyone take a big drink.” They might object at first, but they’ll get used to doing this. Giving each kid a daypack and hydration bladder helps.

Another lesson I’ve learned the hard way: Don’t let a kid hit the wall. When he’s obviously in need of fuel, don’t let your own goals prompt you to suggest that you all “hike a little farther and find a better spot to stop soon.” Just stop immediately and give him something to eat; you will spare everyone a lot of unnecessary grief.

Make your family’s next big trip one of “The 10 Best Family Outdoor Adventure Trips.”

A mother and young daughter paddling a mangrove tunnel on the East River, in Florida's Everglades region.
My daughter, Alex, and wife, Penny, paddling a mangrove tunnel on the East River, on the edge of Florida’s Everglades.

5. Spell Out the Rules

Even adults who are in an unfamiliar environment will occasionally make seemingly stupid, dangerous mistakes simply because they did not understand the hazard. Children are at greater risk of not recognizing hazards. With young kids, define clearly the safe-zone boundaries in camp and rules like no one wanders out of sight or earshot of camp, or plays at the edge of the river without wearing a PFD.

Experienced older kids need less instruction and can be given more freedom, but don’t assume older kids who are beginners understand every potential hazard. Have experienced kids watch out for the less experienced. Rather than making rules seem like restrictions, tell kids you’ve taken them on this adventure because you think they have the maturity and ability to be safe and respect the rules—allowing you all to pursue more such adventures in the future. Turn it into a teaching moment about personal responsibility, and they will understand that they are in control of their own destiny.

Click here for my e-guides to the best beginner-friendly backpacking trips in Yosemite and Grand Teton.

A young teenage boy on a backpacking trip at Alice Lake in Idaho's Sawtooth Mountains.
My son, Nate, at Alice Lake on a backpacking trip in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains.

6. Make It a Game

Adults have the patience and perspective to endure the difficult and tedious times of a hike or other outdoor activity, knowing the payoff will come. That’s an important life lesson that children can glean eventually—but in order to guide them to that level of maturity, we have to make tedious times fun for them.

Kids’ needs for stimulation vary depending on their age. Play games while hiking, like starting with one simple word and taking turns thinking of rhyming words until only one person is left with a rhyme. My kids love “The Story Game,” where we take turns contributing short pieces to the plot of one developing story, which always takes humorous twists. Tell your kids a true story about some past adventure of yours. Stop at streams for kids to play in or boulders to scramble on. Promise them a special stop along the hike, or that everyone gets a big candy bar at the halfway mark, to give them something to look forward to.

Relevant to this tip: Let your child bring stuffed animals or other comfort items that will make them happier. Think about what could make them more comfortable during difficult times—like high-quality technical clothing, or a lightweight umbrella for hiking in the rain.

Want this lifestyle for your family?
Use my “7 Tips for Getting Your Family on Outdoor Adventure Trips.”

 

A young boy in Peek-a-Boo Gulch, in Utah's Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument.
Nate in Peek-a-Boo Gulch, in Utah’s Escalante National Monument.

7. Surprise Kids

Simply put: Take them someplace really cool. Adults like big views, but kids want to interact physically with the environment. They want to play in water, climb on rocks, crawl through narrow crevices, weaponize sticks, throw stones.

On family backpacking trips when our kids were young, they always wanted us to camp by a creek that was safe for them to get in. They have always loved a paddling trip—being on the water all day, paddling a canoe or kayak or having a turn at pulling the raft’s oars. The Green River through Canyonlands National Park is an easy, family- and beginner-friendly, multi-day float trip.

But our family’s favorite multi-day river trip has been Idaho’s Middle Fork of the Salmon River.

Our children were amazed when we descended slot canyons in southern Utah’s Capitol Reef National Park and Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument.

Choose outdoor destinations that you know will provide natural features that engage and excite kids. Make them want to go out again.

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Children around a campfire outside a backcountry yurt in Idaho's Boise National Forest.
The kids learning to build a campfire outside a backcountry yurt in Idaho’s Boise National Forest.

8. Teach Them Skills

On a two-family, cross-country skiing trip to a backcountry yurt, the other dad in our group taught the four kids—age nine to 12—how to build a campfire. He monitored them to be safe, and showed them how, but also gave them the freedom to each start his or her own fire. It was a huge success: they learned a valuable survival skill and had a blast. The takeaway lesson for parents? Children want to learn adult skills; it can be fun and thrilling for them and give them larger lessons.

Start when they’re young teaching kids age-appropriate skills: how to pitch the tent, build a snow cave, light the backpacking stove, use the water filter, read the map, belay a climber and build climbing anchors, paddle and roll a kayak, ski backcountry snow and recognize avalanche hazard. The long-term payoff for parents—besides the satisfaction of seeing your children learn? They learn how to take over these chores from you.

Two teenage girls on a backpacking trip on Nevada's Ruby Crest Trail.
Alex (right) and her friend since they were toddlers, Adele, on our family backpacking trip on Nevada’s Ruby Crest Trail.

9. Let Them Bring a Friend

Young kids (generally under 10) love being with their parents and getting your direct attention. As they get older, you can still enjoy rewarding parent-child time in the backcountry together. I take an annual father-son and father-daughter trip with my kids for wonderful one-on-one time together—something they look forward to as much as I do.

Backpackers above the Baron Lakes in Idaho's Sawtooth Mountains.
My son, Nate, with friends Kade and Iggy, backpacking above the Baron Lakes in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains. Click the photo for my e-guide “The Best Backpacking Trip in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains.”

But it becomes more important to older kids, especially teenagers, to have a friend along. Inviting one of their friends not only helps your child enjoy the trip more, it usually means less complaining: whining isn’t a cool thing to do in front of your friends.

Plus, you could be introducing another kid to the outdoors: When my son was 15, he told me that he wanted us to take two of his buddies on their first backpacking trip. We went, and it was a big success, from the boys enjoying it together to me seeing my son assume a leadership role showing his friends how to pitch their tent, cook on the stove, and other skills. (Read about it here.)

Finding other families that share these interests, where the parents and kids all become close friends, is like finding gold.

I know dangerous. Read “Why I Endanger My Kids in the Wilderness (Even Though It Scares the Sh!t Out of Me).”

A young man rock climbing at Idaho's City of Rocks National Reserve.
Nate rock climbing at Idaho’s City of Rocks National Reserve. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan your next family adventure.

10. Give the Gift of Independence

We have to dote on little kids—they need the attention emotionally and require it for their own safety. But as they get older, they must learn to anticipate and self-manage their own needs, so that you and they don’t have to go through the agony of the parent always telling the kid what to do.

This is hard, but know when to cut the cord. Find that delicate balance between giving kids enough rope to trip once in a while—which is okay because they have to learn to fix their own mistakes—without giving them enough to hang themselves. No one enjoys it or benefits when a parent is constantly correcting or instructing a child who’s old enough to figure it out. Everyone is happier when a child doesn’t need a parent’s help.

Ultimately, independence gives children the larger benefit of self-confidence—the belief that they can manage any personal crisis in life. That may be the best gift you can give your children through taking them outdoors.

See all of my stories about family adventures and all stories about backcountry skills at The Big Outside.

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Photo Gallery: Hiking and Backpacking Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains https://thebigoutsideblog.com/photo-gallery-hiking-and-backpacking-idahos-sawtooth-mountains/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/photo-gallery-hiking-and-backpacking-idahos-sawtooth-mountains/#comments Thu, 25 May 2023 09:00:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=10364 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

When can you claim to know a mountain range well? Maybe it’s once you have spent enough time—certainly measured in years, and probably decades—that you have explored beyond the most accessible and popular spots to the obscure, unknown corners. Perhaps it’s when you have hiked most of its trails. Just possibly, it’s when you unfold a map and it takes several minutes to tick off for someone all the places you have visited. That’s a good start, anyway.

I’ve been exploring Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains for more than 25 years—backpacking and dayhiking, climbing peaks, backcountry skiing—and have fallen in love with these rugged, crenulated peaks. As someone who’s had the good fortune of having backpacked all over the country and the world over the past three-plus decades, including the 10 years I spent as a field editor for Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog, I rank the Sawtooths among the top 10 best backpacking trips in America.

I think you’ll see why in this photo gallery.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Join The Big Outside to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Click here for my e-books to classic backpacking trips. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip.


Backpackers above the Baron Lakes in Idaho's Sawtooth Mountains.
My son, Nate, with friends Kade and Iggy, backpacking above the Baron Lakes in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains.

Protected as federal wilderness and the best-known piece of the sprawling wilderness areas of central Idaho—south of the nearly 2.4-million-acre Frank Church-River of No Return Wilderness, the second-largest in the Lower 48, and west of the 275,000 acres of newer wilderness in the Boulder-White Cloud Mountains—the Sawtooths resemble a cross between the High Sierra and the Tetons.

Dozens of summits rise above 10,000 feet. Innumerable granite spires and pinnacles loom above valleys and cirques where hundreds of alpine lakes ripple in the wind; the Sawtooths are outdone by few mountain ranges in the number and beauty of alpine lakes (see some of the best Sawtooth lakes in this story).

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While these peaks harbor some classic, technical rock climbs, many summits can be reached on third- and fourth-class scrambles, including the highest in the range, 10,751-foot Thompson Peak.

Besides Thompson, I’ve climbed a number of them, including most of the iconic summits visible from the Sawtooth Valley: Heyburn, Horstman, McGown, Williams, among others—some feasible in a day, all of them great adventures in a range where it’s not unusual to have a high summit all to yourself.

I’ve helped many readers plan an unforgettable backpacking trip in the Sawtooths.
Want my help with yours? Click here to learn more.

Put Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains on your list of places to see this summer.

See all of my stories about Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains at The Big Outside, including these:

The Best of Idaho’s Sawtooths: Backpacking Redfish to Pettit
Jewels of the Sawtooths: Backpacking to Alice, Hell Roaring, and Imogene Lakes
The Best Hikes and Backpacking Trips in Idaho’s Sawtooths
Going After Goals: Backpacking Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains
5 Reasons You Must Backpack Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains

See also my e-book “The Best Backpacking Trip in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains” and my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you plan every detail of a multi-day hike there.

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