High Sierra – The Big Outside https://thebigoutside.com America’s Best Backpacking and Outdoor Adventures Fri, 06 Mar 2026 14:54:11 +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 High Sierra – The Big Outside https://thebigoutside.com 32 32 159605698 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.”

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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 12 Best Dayhikes in Yosemite https://thebigoutsideblog.com/the-10-best-dayhikes-in-yosemite/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/the-10-best-dayhikes-in-yosemite/#comments Mon, 23 Feb 2026 10:00:52 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=19950 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

The natural beauty, variety, pristine quality, and scale of America’s National Park System have no parallel in the world. Still, a handful of flagship parks rise above the rest—including, unquestionably, Yosemite. Created in 1890, our third national park harbors some of the most breathtaking and inspiring wild lands in the entire parks system. And you can reach much of Yosemite’s finest scenery on dayhikes.

This story shares my picks for the 12 best dayhikes in Yosemite, from popular hikes like Half Dome, the Mist Trail, and Upper Yosemite Falls to some trails and peaks you may not have heard of—including the nearly 11,000-foot summit known to have “the best 360 in Yosemite.”


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, high above Yosemite Valley in Yosemite National Park.
Mark Fenton atop Half Dome, high above Yosemite Valley. Click photo to learn how to hike Half Dome.

This list of Yosemite’s best hikes is drawn from my numerous trips dayhiking and backpacking all over the park going back more than 30 years, including the 10 years I spent as a field editor for Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog. Use this story as your guide and you will see the best scenery in Yosemite that’s accessible on a moderate to full day of hiking.

Like many stories at The Big Outside, part of this story requires a paid subscription to read: The first six hike descriptions below are free for anyone to read, but reading the remaining six descriptions—which include some hikes you may not see on many other lists of Yosemite’s best dayhikes (such as the one that a retired backcountry ranger who hiked all over Yosemite for decades told me was his favorite in the park)—is an exclusive benefit for readers with a paid subscription to The Big Outside.

Please share your thoughts on any of these hikes or your own favorites in Yosemite in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

May Lake in Yosemite National Park.
May Lake in Yosemite National Park. Click photo for my e-book “The Best Remote and Uncrowded Backpacking Trip in Yosemite.”

May Lake and Mount Hoffmann

2.4 to 6 miles, 500 to 2,100 feet up and down

From the 10,850-foot summit of Mount Hoffmann (lead photo at top of story) in the geographic center of Yosemite—often described as having “the best 360 in Yosemite”—you’ll look out over virtually the entire park, seeing Half Dome, Clouds Rest, and Yosemite Valley, the Clark and Cathedral Ranges, and the sea of peaks sprawling across northern Yosemite. The hike culminates with a steep, third-class scramble up the final 200 feet to the summit, where you stand at the brink of cliffs with serious exposure (although you don’t have to stand at that dizzying edge).

A hiker on the summit of Mount Hoffmann in Yosemite National Park.
The summit of Yosemite’s Mount Hoffmann.

May Lake alone is a worthwhile destination, tucked into a bowl ringed by cliffs and forest, and an easy hike of 2.4 miles round-trip with 500 feet of elevation gain; it’s reached on a good trail that begins at the top of a road signed for May Lake, off Tioga Road west of Tenaya Lake. Scaling Hoffmann adds another 3.6 miles and 1,600 vertical feet round-trip (six miles and 2,100 feet total), following a steep, unofficial trail marked by cairns.

See more photos and a video in my story “Best of Yosemite: Backpacking Remote Northern Yosemite.”

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

Half Dome

16 miles, 4,800 feet up and down

One of the most iconic and sought-after dayhikes in the entire National Park System, Half Dome is an incredibly scenic, challenging, long day that will validate every step of effort you put into it. A roughly 16-mile round-trip from the Happy Isles Trailhead in Yosemite Valley, with 4,800 feet of elevation gain and loss, the hike ascends the Mist Trail past the shower constantly raining down from 317-foot Vernal Fall and past thunderous, 594-foot Nevada Fall. Climbing the cable route up several hundred feet of very steep granite slab to the summit plateau delivers a thrill that largely explains the hike’s enormous popularity.

A hiker on "The Visor" of Half Dome in Yosemite National Park.
Todd Arndt on “The Visor” of Half Dome in Yosemite.

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 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. Descend via the John Muir Trail for a classic look back at Half Dome, Liberty Cap, and Nevada Fall (and it’s less steep than descending the Mist Trail). Tip: Start at or before first light, because it’s a very different experience if you beat the crowds to the top.

A permit is required for this popular dayhike, and a lottery for most of the permits issued throughout the hiking season takes place March 1-31; there’s also a daily lottery for far fewer available permits during the hiking season, which for Half Dome runs from late May through mid-October, depending on conditions. See lottery details and apply at recreation.gov/permits/234652.

See my story “Hiking Half Dome: How to Do It Right and Get a Permit” and more photos from Half Dome and a video in my story “Best of Yosemite: Backpacking South of Tuolumne Meadows.” Find information about getting a permit to dayhike Half Dome at nps.gov/yose/planyourvisit/hdpermits.htm, and see nps.gov/yose/planyourvisit/hdpermitsapps.htm for statistics on permit demand that could help you choose your date to hike it.

Want to backpack in Yosemite? See my e-books to three amazing multi-day hikes there, including “The Best First Backpacking Trip in Yosemite,” which features Half Dome.

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 First Backpacking Trip in Yosemite.”

Tenaya Lake to Clouds Rest

14 miles, 1,800 feet up and down

Of all the hikes on this list, maybe one other begins with a view as soul stirring as the one you get standing on the beach at the southwest corner of Tenaya Lake, gazing across its waters—often mirror-like in the calm of early morning—at a turbulent sea of granite domes and cliffs.

A backpacker hiking Clouds Rest in Yosemite National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm hiking over Clouds Rest in Yosemite.

This 14-mile, round-trip hike is one of the least busy on this list, partly for the distance, no doubt, but also because Clouds Rest just isn’t as well known as Half Dome—even though its 9,926-foot summit offers an even bigger and more dramatic view than its more famous sibling to the southwest. But it’s not as strenuous as the distance suggests, with just under 1,800 feet of elevation gain and loss.

This ascent culminates in 300 yards of the most gripping hiking you may ever do on a maintained trail, traversing the sidewalk-width summit ridge, with a drop-off of several hundred feet on the left and a cliff on the right that falls away a dizzying 4,000 feet—that’s a thousand feet taller than the face of El Capitan. And you get to walk it a second time on the descent. Start early to get off the summit by midday, to avoid possible thunderstorms.

Bonus: For a really big and spectacular day, link up Clouds Rest and Half Dome on a 21-mile traverse from Tenaya Lake to Yosemite Valley.

See more photos from Clouds Rest and a video in my story “Best of Yosemite: Backpacking South of Tuolumne Meadows.”

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

A hiker on North Dome, overlooking Yosemite Valley in Yosemite National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm on North Dome, overlooking Yosemite Valley in Yosemite National Park.

North Dome

10.4 miles, 3,200 feet up and down

Hiking down the nearly treeless southern end of Indian Ridge, you gaze, transfixed, at the sheer face of Half Dome looming enormous just across the deep chasm of Yosemite Valley. Reaching the broad summit of North Dome—at 7,542 feet, some 3,000 feet above the Valley—you step into a heart-stopping panorama spanning from Clouds Rest and Half Dome to Glacier Point, El Capitan, and beyond.

A backpacker hiking Indian Ridge, overlooking Half Dome in Yosemite National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking Indian Ridge, overlooking Half Dome in Yosemite.

But here’s the unique quality of this hike: Unlike other, popular trails around the Valley, you might share North Dome with just a few other hardy dayhikers and backpackers. It feels like a little secret—despite the fact it’s widely recognized as one of the best overlooks of Yosemite Valley.

There are a few ways to reach North Dome. Most direct and easiest: Hike south from the Porcupine Creek Trailhead at 8,100 feet on Tioga Road, a short distance east of Porcupine Flat, about 10.4 miles out-and-back, with about 3,200 feet of both uphill and downhill. Add 0.6-mile out-and-back and 400 feet up and down to see Yosemite’s only natural arch, Indian Rock at 8,522 feet.

Coming from Yosemite Valley, it’s a stout round-trip hike of nearly 16 miles with about 5,000 feet of both up and down from the Upper Yosemite Falls Trailhead—but you’ll add spectacular Upper Yosemite Falls and Yosemite Point plus other overlooks from the Valley’s North Rim.

See more photos in my story about backpacking through this part of Yosemite, “Yosemite’s Best-Kept Secret Backpacking Trip.”

Read all of this story and get full access to all Yosemite stories
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Upper Yosemite Falls and Half Dome (far right) in Yosemite Valley.
Upper Yosemite Falls and Half Dome (far right) in Yosemite Valley. Click photo to get my help planning your Yosemite adventure.

Upper Yosemite Falls

7.2 miles, 2,700 feet up and down

After climbing this sometimes hot and dusty trail for about 90 minutes, you’ll turn a corner to see Upper Yosemite Falls, a curtain of water plunging a sheer 1,430 feet off a cliff, ripping through the air and showering hikers on the trail below with the mist rising from the rocks at the waterfall’s base (which is not very close to the trail). Yosemite Falls, consisting of the upper falls, the 400-foot-tall Lower Yosemite Falls (reached on a separate, flat, one-mile loop trail), and several hundred feet of cascades in between is the tallest in North America at 2,425 feet. The hike to a ledge at the very brink of Upper Yosemite Falls is 7.2 miles round-trip and ascends 2,700 feet, finishing with an exciting catwalk along a ledge where the trail crosses the face of a cliff.

Young children hiking near the brink of Upper Yosemite Falls in Yosemite National Park.
My kids near the brink of Upper Yosemite Falls.

Tip: If you’re fit and fast, start in the afternoon, when you’ll have shade for much of the hot ascent, and most other hikers will be coming down (bring a headlamp). Bonus: Continue 0.8 mile beyond Upper Yosemite Falls to Yosemite Point, overlooking Yosemite Valley and the Lost Arrow Spire—where, if your timing is right, you may see rock climbers scaling that slender blade of rock, or crawling across a rope strung between its summit and the rim.

See more photos and a video in my story “The Magic of Hiking to Yosemite’s Waterfalls.”

Got a trip coming up? See my review of the 10 best daypacks.

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.

Mist Trail-John Muir Trail Loop

6.3 miles, 2,000 feet up and down

The Half Dome hike without Half Dome—that’s this classic and very popular, 6.3-mile lollipop loop, with 2,000 feet of vertical gain and loss, to Vernal Fall and Nevada Fall. But that makes it sound like a letdown, and it’s anything but. Fun for kids when you walk through the rain falling from an often-blue sky—created by Vernal Fall pounding the rocks at its base—this beautiful hike passes by slabs at the top of both Vernal and Nevada, either of them a good lunch spot with a great view down the canyon.

Depending on the Merced River’s volume—generally at its peak between late May and late June—Vernal’s “mist” can vary from just that to a fire hose of water slamming into you (which I’ve experienced). A swimsuit on a hot day or a rain jacket is appropriate attire for passing below Vernal Fall. From the Happy Isles Trailhead, ascend the Mist Trail and descend the John Muir Trail from the top of Nevada Fall.

See more photos and a video in my story “The Magic of Hiking to Yosemite’s Waterfalls.”

Want more? See “The 25 Best National Park Dayhikes
and “Extreme Hiking: America’s Best Hard Dayhikes.”

See all stories about Yosemite National Park and California’s national parks at The Big Outside.

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The 25 Best National Park Dayhikes https://thebigoutsideblog.com/the-20-best-national-park-dayhikes/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/the-20-best-national-park-dayhikes/#comments Mon, 09 Feb 2026 10:00:49 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=23740 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

America’s most stunning landscapes are protected within our 63 national parks, and some of the very finest scenery within our national heritage can be reached on dayhikes. Some of these hikes you may not have done yet or heard of. Others are famous, but there’s a reason for that: They are mind-blowingly gorgeous, so they stand out even in parks with multiple, five-star footpaths. You take these hikes for a one-of-a-kind experience.

Based on more than three decades of exploring most major U.S. national parks—including the 10 years I spent as a field editor for Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog—and numerous trips to popular parks like Yosemite, Yellowstone, Grand Canyon, Glacier, Grand Teton, Zion, and others, I’ve assembled this list of the best dayhikes in our parks. Many can be done by novice hikers and kids (and my kids have done many of them, at various ages), while others are burlier 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.


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

While you don’t usually set out on some these hikes expecting solitude, you can find it by doing them early or late in the day or outside of peak season; I offer tips below on the best times to do some of these hikes.

Use this as your tick list of great national park dayhikes to knock off, and I guarantee you’ll experience the best miles of trail our National Park System has to offer. By the way, this story actually describes 26 hikes—yea, there’s a bonus hike. 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 hikes is an exclusive benefit for paid subscribers to The Big Outside.

If I’ve missed an outstanding, favorite hike of yours, please suggest it in the comments section below to give me ideas for future trips. I regularly update and expand this list whenever I knock off a new trail that belongs here, and I try to respond to all comments.

A hiker near Skeleton Point on the Grand Canyon's South Kaibab Trail.
David Ports hiking the Grand Canyon’s South Kaibab Trail. Click photo for my expert e-book to dayhiking the Grand Canyon rim to rim.

South Kaibab Trail, Grand Canyon

You can’t go wrong on any dayhike in the Grand Canyon, but the South Kaibab is widely considered the premier trail in the Big Ditch. Following the crest of a narrow ridge that descends all the way to the Colorado River, it delivers expansive canyon views beginning minutes after leaving the trailhead.

It’s seven miles and 4,780 vertical feet one-way from the South Rim to the Colorado River—a one-day round-trip appropriate only for extremely fit hikers with desert-hiking experience, who are carrying enough food and water for a big day (there’s no water along the trail). Many people attempting a rim-to-river-to-rim dayhike descend the South Kaibab and ascend the less-steep Bright Angel Trail (9.5 miles and almost 4,500 feet uphill). But you can turn back at any point, choosing the length and difficulty of your hike—keeping in mind that going back up requires much more time and effort than going down. Start at first light and you’ll not only share the trail with far fewer people, you’ll be looking out over the Grand Canyon as the prettiest light of the day spills across it.

See all stories about the Grand Canyon’s South Kaibab Trail and all stories about the Grand Canyon at The Big Outside.

Do the canyon right. Get my expert e-book to dayhiking rim to rim
or my e-book to backpacking the Grand Canyon rim to rim.

 

The bottom curtain of water from Upper Yosemite Falls, Yosemite National Park.
The bottom curtain of water from Upper Yosemite Falls, Yosemite National Park.

Upper Yosemite Falls, Yosemite

Besides its towering granite walls, Yosemite Valley is famous for waterfalls that plummet hundreds or thousands of feet. The tallest, Upper Yosemite Falls, drops a sheer 1,400 feet (2,425 feet including the middle cascades and Lower Yosemite Falls, making the total drop the world’s sixth tallest). Near its brink, you’ll traverse a catwalk chiseled out of a granite wall to a ledge (with a safety rail) where you can peer down at the freefalling water and out over Yosemite Valley, nearly 3,000 feet below.

The round-trip hike to the top of Upper Yosemite Falls is 7.2 miles and 2,700 feet, but you can turn back at any point, such as at Columbia Rock (a mile and 1,000 feet uphill from the trailhead), which has a broad view of Yosemite Valley; or a half-mile farther, near the base of the upper falls, where you can stand in the rain of its intense mist.

See “The 12 Best Dayhikes in Yosemite” and “The Magic of Hiking to Yosemite’s Waterfalls,” and all stories about Yosemite 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.

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

Highline Trail, Glacier

From 6,646-foot Logan Pass, the high point on Glacier’s Going-to-the-Sun Road, the Highline Trail traverses north across rolling, alpine terrain above treeline, with uninterrupted views of the park’s jagged peaks and soaring cliffs. It’s common to see bighorn sheep and mountain goats along the trail, and occasionally sight a black bear or even a grizzly (bring binoculars).

Hike in daylight as a bear-safety precaution, but start early morning, before most hikers, for the best chances of seeing wildlife. Distance options include turning around at any point or hiking 11.8 miles to The Loop on the Going-to-the-Sun Road, which, like Logan Pass, is a stop on the park’s free shuttle bus. Or hike the 7.6 miles from Logan Pass to Granite Park, spend the night at the Granite Park Chalet (make a reservation months in advance); and the next day, either backtrack to Logan Pass or continue over Swiftcurrent Pass and descend to Many Glacier, another 7.6-mile day.

See “The 10 Best Dayhikes in Glacier National Park,” “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 hiker on Angels Landing in Zion National Park.
David Gordon hiking Angels Landing in Zion National Park.

Angels Landing and West Rim Trail, Zion

The 2.5-mile, 1,500-foot (one-way) ascent of Angels Landing culminates in one of the airiest and most thrilling half-mile stretches (actually, 0.4 mile) of trail in the entire National Park System: You scale a steep ridge crest of solid rock, on a path at times just a few feet wide, with steps carved out of sandstone and chain handrails in spots (see lead photo at top of story). Listed on the National Register of Historic Places, Angels Landing really has no peers.

Two tips: If you can hike a strong pace, start early morning or late afternoon to avoid the crowds and the heat of midday. And after summiting Angels, continue up the West Rim Trail for another mile or two; you’ll not only lose the crowds, you will enjoy increasingly dramatic views of Zion Canyon and venture into a quieter, sublimely beautiful area of giant beehive towers and white walls streaked in red and orange. The trail eventually climbs through exposed switchbacks to the West Rim, roughly five miles and 2,000 feet from The Grotto Trailhead where the hike begins.

Due to the enormous popularity of Angels Landing, Zion National Park has implemented a permit system for dayhiking Angels. Find out more at nps.gov/zion/planyourvisit/angels-landing-hiking-permits.htm.

See “Hiking Angels Landing: What You Need to Know,” “The 10 Best Hikes in Zion National Park,” “The 15 Best Hikes in Utah’s National Parks,” and all stories about Zion at The Big Outside.

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The Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone River, Yellowstone National Park.
The Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone River, Yellowstone National Park.

North Rim Trail, Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone River, Yellowstone

With more than 10,000 geothermal features, including hot springs, mud pots, fumaroles, and at least 300 geysers—two-thirds of the planet’s known geysers—Yellowstone is a land of marvels. Plus, you have a virtual guarantee of seeing more bison and elk than you can count and possibly other wildlife like wolves, bald eagles, trumpeter swans, and grizzly and black bears.

But of all the trails in the park, I’ll posit that the North Rim Trail, hundreds of feet above the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone River, is the most spectacular. Traversing the rim for 3.2 miles from Inspiration Point to the overlook of 109-foot Upper Yellowstone Falls, the trail passes several dramatic overlooks of the canyon’s crumbling, golden walls. Don’t pass up the side trip down the steep switchbacks of the half-mile-long Brink of the Lower Falls Trail, which, as advertised, leads to the very lip of 308-foot Lower Yellowstone Falls.

See “The Ultimate Family Tour of Yellowstone,” “The 10 Best Hikes in Yellowstone,” which includes the North Rim Trail, and all stories about Yellowstone at The Big Outside.

Want more? See “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips
and “Extreme Hiking: America’s Best Hard Dayhikes.”

A backpacker hiking Sahale Arm, North Cascades National Park.
David Ports hiking Sahale Arm, North Cascades National Park.

Cascade Pass and Sahale Arm, North Cascades

North Cascades is one of the wildest, most rugged and spectacular, and least-visited parks—and after several trips, one of my favorites. With 9,000 feet of severe relief between the highest, jagged summits and deepest, rainforest valleys, more than 300 glaciers, and year-round snow coverage, the range has earned the nickname the “American Alps.”

But with 93 percent of its nearly 700,000 acres designated as wilderness, much of this park can only be seen by people willing to hike long distances over multiple days. Lucky for dayhikers, the 7.4-mile, 1,800-foot round-trip hike to Cascade Pass delivers views usually reserved for backpackers and climbers. Continue past it up wildflower-strewn Sahale Arm for steadily expanding views of a sea of pinnacles, ice, and snow. It’s another 4.4 miles and 2,300 feet to the trail’s end at Sahale Glacier Camp, but turn around at any time.

See my story “Exploring the ‘American Alps:’ The North Cascades,” and all stories about the North Cascades region at The Big Outside.

See Sahale Glacier Camp in North Cascades in my story
Tent Flap With a View: 25 Favorite Backcountry Campsites.”

Dave Simpson in Garnet Canyon, Grand Teton N.P.
Dave Simpson in Garnet Canyon, Grand Teton N.P.

Garnet Canyon, Grand Teton

The Tetons are another mountain range where some of the best views are enjoyed only by hiking many miles or tying into a rope. But Garnet Canyon, where soaring granite walls form a horseshoe beneath the Grand, Middle, and South Tetons and neighboring peaks, offers arguably the best views in the park that you can reach on a moderate dayhike.

From the Lupine Meadows Trailhead, it’s about four-and-a-half miles with more than 2,200 feet of vertical to the grassy area known as The Meadows, where there are campsites by a creek. The last stretch to The Meadows crosses an area of massive boulders beyond the end of the maintained Garnet Canyon Trail, but the views are just as good before the boulders.

Hiking to Amphitheater Lake, ringed by cliffs and forest high on Disappointment Peak and reached by a trail that forks off the path to Garnet Canyon, adds four miles out-and-back.

See my stories “Great Hike: Garnet Canyon, Grand Teton National Park” and “10 Great Big Dayhikes in the Tetons,” and all stories about 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 Peek-a-Boo Loop in Bryce Canyon National Park.
My then-81-year-old mom, Joanne Lanza, hiking the Peek-a-Boo Loop in Bryce Canyon National Park.

Navajo-Queens Garden and Peek-a-Boo Loops, Bryce Canyon

Descend into Bryce Canyon on the Navajo Loop/Queens Garden Loop and you’ll walk through a maze of the multi-colored, limestone, sandstone, and mudstone spires called “hoodoos,” which resemble giant, melting candles, including one of the park’s best-known formations, Thor’s Hammer. But continue beyond that popular and short hike onto the Peek-a-Boo Loop, and you will lose the crowds—and discover the scenic heart of Bryce Canyon, hiking below row after row of towers in shades of flourescent red and orange, like the aptly named Wall of Windows.

The hike, mostly on good trails that are easy to follow, weaves among tall hoodoos, passes through doorways blasted through walls of rock, and wraps through amphitheaters of wildly colored, slender spires—a delightful, half-day hike that constantly changes character. The six-mile loop, with a cumulative elevation gain and loss of about 1,600 feet, begins and ends at Sunset Point.

See “The Two Best Hikes in Bryce Canyon National Park,” and all stories about Utah national parks at The Big Outside.

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

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

Half Dome, Yosemite

One of America’s most iconic and sought-after hikes, the trek to Half Dome’s 8,800-foot summit—a tough 16 miles round-trip from Happy Isles Trailhead in Yosemite Valley, with 4,800 feet of elevation gain and loss—reaches its literal and emotional apex at the several hundred vertical feet of cables the park installs on the steep slab leading to the vast summit plateau. At the top, many hikers venture to the ledge known as The Visor that overhangs Half Dome’s famous Northwest Face, posing for photos on that granite gangplank thousands of feet above Yosemite Valley. Nothing compares with this hike.

Ascend the steeper Mist Trail past 317-foot Vernal Fall and 594-foot Nevada Fall, and after climbing Half Dome, descend the John Muir Trail—which has a classic view back toward Nevada Fall, the granite dome Liberty Cap, and the back side of Half Dome. Tip: Start an hour before sunrise to get ahead of most other hikers on this popular route.

See “Hiking Half Dome: How to Do It Right and Get a Permit,” “The 12 Best Dayhikes in Yosemite” and “The Magic of Hiking to Yosemite’s Waterfalls” for details on hiking the much shorter and easier, classic loop of the Mist Trail and John Muir Trail to Vernal and Nevada Falls.

Want to backpack in Yosemite? See my e-books to three amazing multi-day hikes 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 southern Utah’s Capitol Reef National Park.

Navajo Knobs Trail, Capitol Reef

There are few dayhikes in the entire National Park System that compare with the Navajo Knobs Trail. There, I’ve said it. At 9.4 miles out-and-back hike with 1,620 feet of elevation gain and loss, it’s just moderately difficult, yet sees little hiker traffic beyond its split from the trail to Hickman Natural Bridge—but really stunning every step of the way. It first climbs to an overlook of Hickman Natural Bridge and then winds upward and along the top of cliffs that offer sweeping views from 1,000 feet above the Fremont River Valley of the rumpled topography of the Waterpocket Fold and the Henry Mountains in the distance.

The trail continues meandering along the rim, below soaring cliffs and towers with continuously expanding panoramas of Capitol Reef and distinctive formations like Pectols Pyramid, The Castle, and Fern’s Nipple. At its far end, you’ll do some 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 “The Best Hikes in Capitol Reef National Park” and all stories about Capitol Reef at The Big Outside.

Gear up right for your hikes.
See the best hiking shoes and the 10 best hiking daypacks.

A view from the Appalachian Trail in Great Smoky Mountains National Park.
A view from the Appalachian Trail in Great Smoky Mountains National Park.

Clingmans Dome and Appalachian Trail, Great Smoky Mountains

Set aside the fact that over 12 million people annually visit the Great Smokies—America’s most popular park—and thousands hike the half-mile-long, paved walkway to the observation tower atop 6,643-foot Clingmans Dome, the park’s highest point. Still, the 360-degree panorama of the overlapping, forested ridges of the Southern Appalachians will steal your breath away (if the steep hike up didn’t).

Then head west on the Appalachian Trail—the 2.2 miles one-way to the Goshen Prong Trail junction is far enough—for a much quieter experience of walking the rocky, up-and-down crest of one of the East’s tallest mountain ranges, passing numerous overlooks of the rugged peaks and valleys on the North Carolina and Tennessee sides of the park. Double back to the Clingmans Dome parking lot and hike 3.6-mile out-and-back (for a total distance of nine miles) on the Forney Ridge Trail to 5,920-foot Andrews Bald, the highest grassy bald in the Smokies, where the views span a broad expanse of North Carolina’s mountains; azalea and rhododendron bloom spectacularly from mid-June to early July.

See more photos and info in my story “In the Garden of Eden: Backpacking the Great Smoky Mountains,” about a trip that included Clingmans Dome, the Appalachian Trail, and Andrews Bald, and see all stories about hiking and backpacking in the North Carolina mountains at The Big Outside.

A young boy hiking the coast of Olympic National Park near Strawberry Point.
My son, Nate, hiking the coast of Olympic National Park near Strawberry Point.

Third Beach to Strawberry Point, Olympic

Stone pinnacles called sea stacks rise up to some 200 feet out of the pounding Pacific Ocean. Sea otters, seals, and whales swim offshore and bald eagles fly overhead. Mussels, sea stars, and sea anemones carpet boulders in tide pools. In one of Earth’s largest virgin temperate rainforests, Sitka spruce and western red cedar grow to 150 feet tall, with diameters of 10 or 15 feet, and Douglas fir and western hemlock soar well over 200 feet.

The 73 miles of coast in Olympic National Park comprise the longest strip of wilderness seashore in the contiguous United States, remote and mostly accessible only to backpackers. But dayhikers can sample it on the relatively flat, 10-mile, out-and-back dayhike from Third Beach Trailhead on La Push Road to Strawberry Point, one of the spots with a cluster of offshore sea stacks. Up for 14 miles round-trip? Continue to Toleak Point, where at low tide you can scramble out onto some sea stacks.

See my story “The Wildest Shore: Backpacking the Southern Olympic Coast,” and all stories about Olympic National Park at The Big Outside.

The Pacific Northwest is a wet place.
Get one of “The Best Rain Jackets for Hiking and Backpacking.”

Delicate Arch at sunset in Arches National Park.
Delicate Arch at sunset in Arches National Park.

Delicate Arch at Sunset, Arches

Just three miles out-and-back with less than 500 feet of elevation gain, the well-traveled path to what is probably Utah’s most famous and most-photographed natural arch is best done in the evening, timing your arrival at Delicate Arch for before sunset. Although still popular as a sunset hike, it’s more pleasant than trudging it during the heat of the day, and the sunset light seems to electrify the sandstone’s burnt color.

One of the pleasures of the hike is how the final stretch of the trail traverses the side of a small slickrock cliff before suddenly popping you out on the rim of an amphitheater of solid rock, looking across the big bowl at Delicate Arch, with the La Sal Mountains, snow-covered in spring, visible through its keyhole. Tip: Bring a headlamp and jacket and linger until well after sunset, when most other hikers have already started back, and you’ll enjoy a quieter walk under a sky riddled with stars.

See “No Straight Lines: Backpacking and Hiking in Canyonlands and Arches National Parks,” “The 15 Best Hikes in Utah’s National Parks,” and all stories about Arches National Park 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 hiking the Skyline Trail above Paradise in Mount Rainier National Park.
My daughter, Alex, hiking the Skyline Trail above Paradise in Mount Rainier National Park.

Skyline Trail, Mount Rainier

The 5.5-mile, 1,500-foot Skyline Trail loop from Paradise, on the southern flank of Mount Rainier, delivers everything you go to this park to see: in-your-face views of The Mountain and the cracked face of the Nisqually Glacier; thick carpets of lupine, mountain heather, and other alpine wildflowers; waterfalls, and marmots perched on trailside boulders.

You might also see climbers on their way up to or returning from Camp Muir, the base camp for ascents of the standard Disappointment Cleaver route up Rainier. Have lunch at Panorama Point, at nearly 7,000 feet, with a sweeping view of the Tatoosh Range and sister Cascade Range volcanoes like Adams, St. Helens, and Hood. At the footbridge over Myrtle Falls, follow the short spur trail descending to a better view of the waterfall, There are a variety of interconnected trails above Paradise to create shorter or longer loops. Tip: Often buried in snow until early August, this hike is prettiest when the wildflowers are in full bloom, around mid-August.

See “The Best Hikes in Mount Rainier National Park” and all stories about Mount Rainier National Park at The Big Outside.

See my five-level difficulty rating system in “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”

A backpacker hiking the Dawson Pass Trail in Glacier National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking the Dawson Pass Trail in Glacier National Park.

Dawson-Pitamakan Passes Loop, Glacier

The rare trails that run for miles high above the treetops, with jaw-dropping panoramas of jagged, icy peaks stretching to the horizon, bring hikers about as close as we get to the feeling of being an eagle soaring through the mountains. This loop from the Two Medicine North Shore Trailhead over Dawson and Pitamakan passes—both of which reach nearly 7,600 feet—does just that.

For more than five miles between the passes, this hike offers 360-degree panoramas of the peaks in Glacier’s remote heart, as well as deep, green valleys carved into classic U shapes by ancient glaciers, and shockingly blue alpine lakes. Watch for bighorn sheep and mountain goats. Shorten the 17.6-mile loop (with 2,500 vertical feet of elevation gain and loss) to 14.8 miles by catching an early boat shuttle across Two Medicine Lake (see glacierparkboats.com); do that at the hike’s outset in order to get off the alpine traverse, which is exposed to severe weather, earlier in the day. Shortest option: Dayhike 9.4 miles (with the boat shuttle) out-and-back to Dawson Pass—although you’ll miss most of the alpine traverse that makes this dayhike so special.

See “The 10 Best Dayhikes in Glacier National Park,” “The 8 Best Long Hikes in Glacier National Park,” and my stories “Déjà vu All Over Again: Backpacking in Glacier National Park,” and “Wildness All Around You: Backpacking the CDT Through Glacier” for more photos of the Dawson Pass Trail between Dawson and Pitamakan passes, and all stories about Glacier National Park at The Big Outside.

Plan your next great backpacking trip in Glacier and other parks using my expert e-books.

An alligator in the East River in the Everglades.
An alligator in the Everglades.

Anhinga Trail, Everglades

Nothing prepares you for your first immersion in the unbridled wildness of the Everglades—and the Anhinga Trail may be the best introduction to one of the planet’s greatest biological preserves. Less than a mile long and flat—easy enough and a wonderful experience for young kids, and accessible to people in wheelchairs—the trail meanders between footpath and boardwalk through a sawgrass marsh, where you will see an uncanny number of large, exotic birds like herons, egrets, and anhingas.

Most shockingly, you will stand possibly within reach of alligators—but make sure it’s only from the safety of an elevated boardwalk: Before I set out on the Anhinga Trail, I saw a gator on the lawn outside the Royal Palm Visitor Center, where the hike begins, that hissed menacingly enough at tourists approaching it with cameras to send them scattering. Don’t do that.

See my story “Like No Other Place: Paddling the Everglades.”

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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.

Lake Solitude, Grand Teton

Full disclosure: Unless you take this dayhike outside the peak summer season or start early, don’t expect Lake Solitude to deliver on the promise in its name: On a nice summer day, this hike sees scores of hikers. But they spread out so it mostly doesn’t feel crowded—and there are good reasons so many people make this considerable trek: Vividly blue Lake Solitude nestles in a basin ringed by tall cliffs in the very heart of the Tetons, and the views down the North Fork of Cascade Canyon are among the best in the entire park.

At just over 15 miles and 2,300 feet out-and-back from the boat landing on the west side of Jenny Lake, this stroll up Cascade Canyon and its North Fork is challenging but certainly within the abilities of many fit hikers. Tip: Catch the first boat shuttle across Jenny Lake to get a jump on the crowds and possibly enjoy a bit of actual solitude at the lake; you might even see wildlife like moose along the trail (as I have three times in Cascade Canyon and the North Fork).

See “10 Great Big Dayhikes in the Tetons” and all stories about Grand Teton National Park at The Big Outside.


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Are you a backpacker? You may like my stories “The 10 Best National Park Backpacking Trips” and “12 Expert Tips for Planning a Wilderness Backpacking Trip.”

See a menu of all stories about national park adventures at The Big Outside.

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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.

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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.

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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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.

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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.

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,
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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.
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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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Join now to read ALL stories and get a free e-book!

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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.

Plan your next great backpacking adventure in Yosemite
and other flagship 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.”

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.

Get full access to my Yosemite stories and ALL stories at The Big Outside,
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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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plus get a FREE e-book! Join 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.”

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.
Want my help with yours? Click here now.

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.

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

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.”

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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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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.


Click here now to get professional-quality prints of the inspiring images from the John Muir Trail and other places that you see at The Big Outside!


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?
Click here for expert advice you won’t get anywhere else.

 

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.

Want to hike the John Muir Trail?
Click here for my expert, detailed advice personally customized for you.

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.

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

 

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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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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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.”

Want to read any story linked here?
Join now to read ALL stories and get a free e-book!

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.”

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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.

Get The Big Outside in your Inbox. Sign up for my FREE email newsletter now.

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.

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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.


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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 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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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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plus get a FREE e-book! Join now!

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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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.

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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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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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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.

Want to read any story linked here?
Get full access to ALL stories at The Big Outside, plus a FREE e-book. Join now!

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.

The Big Outside will help your family get outdoors more.
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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.

Want to read any story linked here?
Join now to read ALL stories 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. 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.

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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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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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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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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.

Plan your next great backpacking adventure in Yosemite
and other flagship parks using my expert e-books.

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.”

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

 

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.

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

 

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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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.”

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

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.

Read all of this story and ALL stories 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.

See all stories about backpacking at The Big Outside, including “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips” and “Tent Flap With a View: 25 Favorite Backcountry Campsites.”

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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.

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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.

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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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
and “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips.”

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.

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

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.

Dying to backpack in the Tetons? See my e-books to the Teton Crest Trail and
the best short backpacking trip there.

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.”

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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 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.”

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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.

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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.”

Feeling inspired by this story? Join now for full access to ALL stories and get a free e-book!

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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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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The 18 Best Uncrowded National Park Dayhikes https://thebigoutsideblog.com/the-12-best-uncrowded-national-park-dayhikes/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/the-12-best-uncrowded-national-park-dayhikes/#comments Mon, 10 Mar 2025 09:01:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=23830 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

The best-known dayhikes in America’s national parks are certainly worth adding to your outdoor-adventure CV. Summits and hiking trails like Angels Landing in Zion, Half Dome in Yosemite, the North Rim Trail overlooking the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone River, Glacier National Park’s Highline Trail, the Grand Canyon’s South Kaibab Trail and many others represent the highlights of the crown jewels of the National Park System. And for that very reason, unless you take those hikes outside the peak seasons or times of day, you can expect to encounter a lot of other people.

But there are other national park dayhikes that remain off the radar of many hikers—so they attract a tiny fraction of the number of people flocking to the popular trails. This story will point you toward many of the best of them.

A hiker at Pitamakan Pass in Glacier National Park.
Todd Arndt at Pitamakan Pass in Glacier National Park. Click photo to see the best dayhikes in Glacier.

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 list of hikes below draws from more than three decades of exploring the parks, including the 10 years I spent as a field editor for Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog. On these 18 hikes, you’ll find scenery just as majestic as those famous trails, while typically encountering few other people and possibly having these spots to yourself (as I did on several of them). 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 hikes is an exclusive benefit for paid subscribers to The Big Outside.

You might want to bring along a friend or your family—just to make sure you don’t get too lonely.

Share your questions or thoughts about these hikes—or suggest your own—in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

Double Arch Alcove on the Taylor Creek Trail in Zion National Park.
Double Arch Alcove on the Taylor Creek Trail in Zion National Park.
Along the Taylor Creek Trail in Zion's Kolob Canyons.
Along the Taylor Creek Trail in Zion’s Kolob Canyons.

Taylor Canyon, Zion

Easily accessible but far from the well-beaten paths of Zion Canyon, the five-mile, nearly flat, out-and-back hike up the Taylor Creek Trail explores a canyon with walls rising nearly 2,000 feet above a cool forest watered by a vibrant creek (lead photo at top of story).

You’ll pass two historic cabins dating back decades, and at the end of the maintained trail, reach Double Arch Alcove, a pair of giant arches in the Navajo sandstone beneath 1,700-foot-tall Tucupit Tower and Paria Tower.

See my “Photo Gallery: Hiking the Kolob Canyons of Zion National Park,” and all stories about Zion at The Big Outside.

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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.”

Tenaya Lake to Clouds Rest, Yosemite

A hiker on Clouds Rest in Yosemite National Park.
Todd Arndt hiking Clouds Rest in Yosemite National Park.

The view across Tenaya Lake of a breathtaking sweep of granite domes and cliffs sets the tone for this 14-mile, round-trip hike up 9,926-foot Clouds Rest. In the same neighborhood as Half Dome, comparatively unknown Clouds Rest offers an even bigger panorama, taking in Yosemite Valley and Half Dome, plus an ocean of mountains spanning most of the park.

But it’s not as strenuous as the distance suggests, with just under 1,800 feet of elevation gain and loss. The hike’s highlight comes in the final 300 yards traversing the narrow summit ridge, above dizzying drop of 4,000 feet—that’s a thousand feet taller than the face of El Capitan.

See more photos from Clouds Rest and a video in “Best of Yosemite: Backpacking South of Tuolumne Meadows,” as well as “The 12 Best Dayhikes in Yosemite,” and all stories about hiking in Yosemite at The Big Outside.

Want more? See “The 25 Best National Park Dayhikes
and “Extreme Hiking: America’s Best Hard Dayhikes.”

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.

Eagle Peak Trail, Mount Rainier

The fact that this trail ascends relentlessly nearly 3,000 vertical feet in 3.6 miles partly explains its obscurity. But the main reason may be that it lies somewhat out of the way, starting in the little village of Longmire, in a park already possessing an embarrassment of riches when it comes to dayhiking options.

Don’t let either of those facts discourage you, because this hike is a gem with a sudden, jaw-dropping payoff at the top.

It rises through lush, quiet, old-growth Pacific Northwest forest and crosses meadows bursting with wildflowers in mid-summer, ending at a saddle at 5,700 feet in the rugged Tatoosh Range—where Mount Rainier abruptly commands most of the horizon in front of you, looking both incomprehensively massive and close enough to touch.

See “The Best Hikes in Mount Rainier National Park” and all stories about Mount Rainier National Park at The Big Outside.

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A hiker on the summit of Static Peak in Grand Teton National Park.
A hiker on the summit of Static Peak in Grand Teton National Park.

Static Peak, Grand Teton

While no casual stroll—17.2 miles and 5,000 vertical feet round-trip—Static Peak unquestionably ranks among the finest dayhikes in Grand Teton National Park. But it’s often overlooked by visitors, who focus on the canyons farther north.

From Death Canyon Trailhead, hike past views of Phelps Lake, along a roaring cascade, into majestic Death Canyon, and eventually to a panorama from 10,790-foot Static Peak Divide that encompasses Death Canyon, Jackson Hole, Alaska Basin, and the southern Tetons. Continue up the half-mile, 500-vertical-foot user trail to Static Peak’s 11,303-foot summit for even bigger views spanning a large swath of the Teton Range.

See “10 Great Big Dayhikes in the Tetons,” and all stories about Grand Teton National Park at The Big Outside.

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

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.

Big Spring, Squaw, and Lost Canyons and the Peekaboo Trail, Canyonlands

Along the Peekaboo Trail, Needles District, Canyonlands National Park.
Along the Peekaboo Trail, Needles District, Canyonlands.

While nearby Chesler Park commands the attention of most hikers in the Needles District of Canyonlands, the less-traveled trails into Big Spring, Squaw and Lost canyons and the Peekaboo Trail deliver similarly mind-blowing views of 300-foot-tall candlesticks and cliffs.

The 7.5-mile loop from Squaw Flat campground up Big Spring Canyon and down Squaw Canyon, with only about 600 feet of uphill and downhill, follows a circuitous route up steep slickrock over a sandstone pass overlooking the canyons and miles of redrock towers.

For a longer outing, add five to six miles to explore Lost Canyon and the Peekaboo Trail.

See my story “No Straight Lines: Backpacking and Hiking in Canyonlands and Arches National Parks,” and all stories about Canyonlands 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 hiking the Dawson Pass Trail in Glacier National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm hiking the Dawson Pass Trail in Glacier National Park.

Dawson and Pitamakan Passes, Glacier

At nearly 7,600 feet, Dawson and Pitamakan passes—and the several miles of high, alpine trail connecting them in the southeast corner of Glacier National Park—deliver sweeping panoramas of remote, icy peaks and strikingly blue alpine lakes from high above valleys carved into classic U shapes by ancient glaciers.

A backpacker hiking the Dawson Pass Trail in Glacier National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking the Dawson Pass Trail in Glacier National Park.

Connect them on a strenuous, 13-mile loop with 2,500 feet of up and down by catching an early boat shuttle across Two Medicine Lake and hitting Dawson first, ahead of the crowds that hike just to Dawson Pass—itself an outstanding, 9.4-mile, out-and-back walk for those looking for a moderately strenuous day. The early start will increase your chances of seeing wildlife like mountain goats and bighorn sheep, and you’ll leave most of the other hikers behind on the alpine traverse between the passes and the descent from Pitamakan. To shorten it, walk partway out the almost flat trail leading north from Dawson Pass and then double back (though you’ll encounter a stream of dayhikers).

See “The 10 Best Dayhikes in Glacier National Park,” “The 8 Best Long Hikes in Glacier National Park,” my expert e-books to the best backpacking trip in Glacier and backpacking the Continental Divide Trail through Glacier, and all stories about Glacier National Park at The Big Outside.

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A hiker on the Hermit Trail, Grand Canyon.
David Ports hiking the Hermit Trail in the Grand Canyon.

Hermit Trail, Grand Canyon

A hiker on the Grand Canyon's Hermit Trail.
David Ports hiking the Grand Canyon’s Hermit Trail.

While most dayhikers flock to the Bright Angel and South Kaibab trails—and both are wonderful (the latter ranks among the best national parks dayhkes)—you can find rare South Rim solitude on a beautiful dayhike even in the peak spring and fall seasons.

Take the park shuttle to the end of the Hermit Road and descend the Hermit Trail into the canyon of Hermit Creek, slicing through the canyon’s vivid Supai and Redwall layers. It’s rocky and steep in spots—that’s why you’ll see few people. Turn around and retrace your steps when you like. Breezy Point is 5.5 miles and about 2,200 feet downhill and the Tonto Trail junction is seven miles and over 3,400 feet. Remember that going up is harder.

See photos in my story “One Extraordinary Day: A 25-Mile Dayhike in the Grand Canyon,” which describes a five-star Grand Canyon ultra-hike from Hermits Rest to Bright Angel Trailhead, with easy transportation logistics (as opposed to hiking the canyon rim to rim).

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.”

Blacktail Deer Creek Trail, Yellowstone National Park.
Along the Blacktail Deer Creek Trail in Yellowstone National Park.

Blacktail Deer Creek Trail, Yellowstone

Crevice Lake in the Black Canyon of the Yellowstone River, Yellowstone National Park.
Crevice Lake in the Black Canyon of the Yellowstone River, Yellowstone National Park.

The Blacktail Deer Creek Trail doesn’t climb a mountain or pass any thermal feature. But from its nondescript trailhead east of Mammoth, it meanders across gently rolling grasslands and meadows that look like an American Serengeti, where there’s a good chance of running into herds of elk and bison—or wolves or bears.

Reaching the cliff-flanked Black Canyon of the Yellowstone River at 3.7 miles and over 1,000 feet downhill, you can continue in either direction along the river; a quarter-mile downstream lies Crevice Lake, whose waters reflect the forest, hills, and cerulean sky.

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

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

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.

Navajo Knobs Trail, Capitol Reef

For starters, it’s somewhat baffling that the Navajo Knobs Trail sees so few hikers, because there are few dayhikes in Utah’s parks—or in the entire National Park System—that compare with it. And at 9.4 miles out-and-back, with 1,620 feet of elevation gain and loss, it’s quite moderate.

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.

Although starting at the busy trailhead for the immensely popular and short hike to Hickman Natural Bridge, the Navajo Knobs Trail quickly diverges from that trail, and you will see very few hikers while winding upward to overlooks above Hickman Bridge and, beyond that, a sweeping view of the cliffs, domes, and wild topography of Capitol Reef from the canyon rim, 1,000 feet above the Fremont River Valley.

And you’re not done. The trail continues meandering below enormous cliffs and towers, with continuously expanding panoramas that take in distinctive formations like Pectols Pyramid, The Castle, and Fern’s Nipple. At 4.7 miles, the ends with easy scrambling to the tiny summit of one of the pinnacles named the Navajo Knobs and an even broader and higher perspective on the fascinating geology and topography of Capitol Reef National Park.

See “The Best Hikes in Capitol Reef National Park” and all stories about hiking and backpacking in Capitol Reef National Park at The Big Outside.

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A hiker on the Maple Pass-Heather Pass Loop in North Cascades National Park.
My wife, Penny, hiking the Maple Pass-Heather Pass Loop in North Cascades National Park.
Heather Pass-Maple Pass Loop, North Cascades National Park.
Heather Pass-Maple Pass Loop, North Cascades.

Heather Pass-Maple Pass Loop, North Cascades

In the vertiginous North Cascades, usually only climbers enjoy views of this park’s sea of jagged, snow- and glacier-clad peaks stretching for miles to every horizon.

But that’s also what you will find on this 7.2-mile loop, with 2,000 feet of uphill and downhill, from the Rainy Pass Trailhead on WA 20.

Starting in a forest of towering fir, hemlock, and spruce trees, you climb to views of cliff-ringed Lake Ann, dramatic Black Peak from Heather Pass—followed by Maple Pass, where much of the North Cascades spreads out before you.

Go in August or early September, after most of the snow has melted out, and when the huckleberries are ripe and columbine and other wildflowers bloom.

See my story “Exploring the ‘American Alps:’ The North Cascades,” and all stories about the North Cascades region at The Big Outside.

Got an all-time favorite campsite?
See “Tent Flap With a View: 25 Favorite Backcountry Campsites

See the menu of stories at my All National Park Trips page at The Big Outside.

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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—
and ALL stories at The Big Outside, plus get a FREE e-book! Join now!

 

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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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.
Find out more here.

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.

The Big Outside helps your family get outdoors more. Join now for full access to ALL stories and get a free e-guide!

 

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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High Sierra Ramble: 130 Miles On—and Off—the John Muir Trail https://thebigoutsideblog.com/high-sierra-ramble-130-miles-on-and-off-the-john-muir-trail/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/high-sierra-ramble-130-miles-on-and-off-the-john-muir-trail/#respond Mon, 10 Oct 2022 13:22:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=54839 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

All day, clouds the color of a bruise pile up across the sky, conceding the sun only brief, teasing appearances before blocking it out again. Carrying packs bursting with nine days of food, we hike past lakes, each one higher and prettier than the last. More than seven miles from where we began our walk, we stroll into the basin of a sprawling lake whose image captured in historic Ansel Adams photographs has in many ways come to define the public’s mental picture of what is arguably America’s finest mountain range, the High Sierra: Speckled by scores of rocky islets below the distinctive profile of aptly named Banner Peak, Thousand Island Lake today bares whitecapped teeth pushed up by strong gusts of wind.

We cross the John Muir Trail—which we’ll rejoin farther south in a couple of days—and pick up a use trail tracing the north shore of Thousand Island Lake. Not long after that path disappears into the rocky ground, we find a campsite semi-protected from the buffeting wind by a copse of stunted conifer trees, a couple minutes’ walk from the lake’s southwest corner, at just under 10,000 feet in the shadow of Banner Peak.

A backpacker at Thousand Island Lake in the Ansel Adams Wilderness, High Sierra.
David Ports at Thousand Island Lake in the Ansel Adams Wilderness, High Sierra.

That evening, the clouds begin to fragment like river ice in spring, scurrying past us. As the sun hovers above mountains to our west and eventually tucks in behind them, its light streams over the bellies of the clouds floating past at greatly varying altitudes—some low, some very high, others in between the lowest and highest clouds. The combination of rays of sunlight at the red end of the spectrum and multiple levels of clouds, mixed with patches of deep blue, creates a skyscape that shifts its colors every few seconds and a nearly hour-long spectacle of one of the most striking sunsets I have ever witnessed.

John Muir certainly had it right when he called the High Sierra “the range of light.”

After dark falls and we tuck into our tents, we hear the wind gather itself in some unknown place high above us. Over slow minutes, it builds in volume until crashing with a roar through our camp in a tsunami of air that seems to shake the earth for long, tent-flapping seconds. After passing by, it leaves us in a quiet calm that rarely lasts more than a minute or two before the next great gust builds and barrels into us. This continues throughout the night.


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.


Sunset over Thousand Island Lake in the Ansel Adams Wilderness, High Sierra.
Sunset over Thousand Island Lake in the Ansel Adams Wilderness, High Sierra.

My longtime adventure partner David Ports, my 24-year-old nephew Marco Garofalo, and I have embarked on a nine-day trek of nearly 130 miles that will rival the very best High Sierra backpacking trips I’ve ever taken—including my thru-hike of the John Muir Trail.

Hiking barely more than half the usual distance of a full JMT thru-hike, we’re following an itinerary I created—which could be hiked in shorter pieces (see details in the trip planning information at the bottom of this story, available exclusively to paid subscribers to this blog)—that takes us into the Ansel Adams and John Muir Wildernesses and Kings Canyon National Park, exploring gorgeous high lakes basins, crossing passes that scrape the stratosphere at 11,000 to 12,000 feet, hiking some off-trail terrain and traversing one of the finest sections of the John Muir Trail.

I’ve been dreaming about this hike for months.

See “10 Great John Muir Trail Section Hikes.”

The Minarets

On our second morning, we hike cross-country south from Thousand Island Lake over a couple of passes above 10,000 feet and a couple of lakes basins, finally descending to the wind-rippled, brown waters of Ediza Lake at nearly 9,300 feet. There, we pick up a trail—with Marco flying ahead of David and me going uphill—ascending steeply to stunning Iceberg Lake at almost 9,800 feet. Tucked up hard against cliffs, Iceberg sits below a few of the well over a dozen 11,000- and 12,000-foot spires known as the Minarets, lined up like chipped and broken bowling pins.

And we’re not done climbing. From Iceberg, we follow an improbable, strenuously steep and rough trail of sorts across a slope of talus and scree angling upward around Iceberg to Cecile Lake, at 10,260 feet in another rocky bowl at the feet of the Minarets. With any semblance of a trail terminating there, we poke around to find a route across yet more talus and drop down a steep, narrow gully to aptly named Minaret Lake—arguably the prettiest lake we’ve seen today. We hike past at least a few other parties camped here, finding a spot for our tents amid conifer trees a short walk from the lakeshore for water and far enough from other backpackers that we see no one else all evening and the next morning.

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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.

Fortunately, the Sierra weather gods are smiling on us. This day had launched with clear, sunny skies and pleasant temperatures—and this weather pattern will persist for six straight days, giving us comfortably cool nights for sleeping, mornings in the forties Fahrenheit and afternoons at elevation in the 60s. In the High Sierra, where between hot temps and the intense alpine sun, afternoons can feel like you’re hiking under a grow lamp, we spend half of our hiking time hardly breaking a sweat.

That evening, we sit on granite rocks watching the full moon rise in the V formed by the valley of Minaret Creek below us; and the next morning, our third, dawn light sets the Minarets glowing like the embers of a well-tended fire, reflected in the slightly rippling waters of Minaret Lake.

Marie Lake and Sallie Keyes Lakes

On yet another calm, clear day with comfortable temps and a blazing sun, we walk up to the shore of one of the most beautiful water bodies on the JMT: Marie Lake. A sort of downsized Thousand Island Lake, Marie spreads out like a spilt drink in a basin at over 10,500 feet. Numerous islands, large and small, speckle its surface and peninsulas jut into it from all sides. We drop our packs on granite slabs, strip off sweaty T-shirts and shorts, and plunge into the chilly but refreshing water, enduring the cold for just a few minutes, and sit in the sun to dry off and warm up—with the cool breeze aiding the former and slightly hindering the latter—followed by a long, relaxing lunch break.

It’s our sixth afternoon and, with lighter packs as we burn through our food weight, we’ve hit our stride, coming off back-to-back days of around 17 miles, one with over 5,000 feet of cumulative uphill and downhill, the other over 8,000 feet. (Marco again sets a pace impossible for David and me—both the age of Marco’s dad—to maintain, blasting ahead and waiting for us at trail junctions or lakes, where we’ll arrive to see he’s already taken a swim. When we see a white-bearded backpacker coming down the trail toward us, I ask him, “Did you see the young guy cranking uphill?” He quickly responds, “Yea, cranking up! It just ain’t fair.” To which I agree and David nods with resignation.)

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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.

And the JMT has rewarded our efforts with scenery that acts as a balm for sore muscles and joints—the regular percussion of countless waterfalls and cascades, a constellation of lakes, and views of a sea of jagged mountains from high passes.

But the finest scenery of this trip still awaits us.

After our rejuvenating swim and lunch, we make the relatively easy climb over Selden Pass at 10,880 feet and drop to the lovely Sallie Keyes Lakes, twins wrapped in open forest at 10,170 feet, finding a protected site for our tents a short walk from the lakeshore—where we take another brief swim and will enjoy another gorgeous sunrise tomorrow morning.

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Evolution Basin and Muir Pass

In the cool air of our eighth morning, we ascend the JMT out of Goddard Canyon, passing the thunderous waterfalls and steep cascades on Evolution Creek and pulling our shoes and socks off to ford the frigid creek at a flat, wide, and slow spot. Hiking up the gentle, forested Evolution Valley, we step off the trail at an established campsite where the creek widens and slows in a broad meadow, its calm waters reflecting the puffy clouds and peaks across the valley. Minutes later, at the ranger station, the ranger tells us the perfect weather we’ve been experiencing for a week is about to shift to a cycle of afternoon thunderstorms—with a pretty good chance of one later this afternoon.

The forest thins as we ascend switchbacks above the valley. Granite cliffs come into view on both sides and ahead of us. Abruptly, the waters of another JMT gem appear in front of us: Evolution Lake. If you’re fairly new to the southern High Sierra, walking up to Evolution Lake requires the brain to recalibrate your sense of scale. We have reached one of the JMT sections—and there are several—that earn it the nickname “America’s most beautiful trail.”

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We follow the JMT’s easy, meandering course through meadows around the contours of the lake, which stretches a mile or more up Evolution Basin, passing other backpackers and a few tents already set up in early afternoon. Cliffs soar to tall peaks on all sides, including the 13,000-footers Mounts Mendel and Darwin and the 12,329-foot Hermit. Little clusters of small conifer trees offer some protection for camping; but as we climb farther up the Evolution Basin, where the trail ascends the rocky slope above Sapphire Lake, the wide-open terrain offers no such protection.

As the ranger foretold, dark storm clouds mass above the upper basin, moving toward us. When the wind-driven rain and hail begin, we find a couple of large boulders off the trail and hunker down on the ground in their lee, avoiding some of the precipitation and most of the wind. But the storm apparently has no intention of just blowing over quickly. We retreat to lower ground in the basin, just above Evolution Lake, hurriedly pitch the tents and crawl inside, inflating our air mats and slipping inside our sleeping bags for warmth to wait it out. More than an hour after the storm began, it dissipates; we unzip tent doors to see sunshine and mostly blue sky again in the direction we’re going, although the storm remains very dark over Evolution Lake.

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Backpackers at Evolution Lake in the Evolution Basin, John Muir Trail, Kings Canyon N.P.
David Ports and Marco Garofalo at Evolution Lake in the Evolution Basin, John Muir Trail, Kings Canyon N.P.

See all stories about backpacking the John Muir Trail and backpacking in the High Sierra and all stories with expert backpacking tips at The Big Outside.

The Gear I Used See my reviews of the outstanding backpack, tent, sleeping bag, down jacket, ultralight rain jacket, hiking pants, 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.

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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Yosemite’s Best-Kept Secret Backpacking Trip https://thebigoutsideblog.com/yosemites-best-kept-secret-backpacking-trip/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/yosemites-best-kept-secret-backpacking-trip/#comments Mon, 01 Nov 2021 17:30:29 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=48621 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

A bit over a mile into our first day backpacking in Yosemite, as we round a bend in the trail, Half Dome suddenly rears up in front of us, looming over the horizon like an asteroid just seconds before it impacts the planet. “Wow!” bursts from my mouth involuntarily, sounding very inadequate for the majestic scene before us.

Jeff, who’d stumbled upon this apparition a minute ahead of me, chuckles and says, “I thought you’d want me to wait.” One of my most cooperative photo models, Jeff’s hiked enough miles with me—and backtracked a section of trail enough times for my camera—to sense in advance when I’ll require his services.

Our vista from high above Yosemite Valley frames Half Dome and a constellation of distant peaks—that kind of scene I’ve learned that backpackers come upon countless times throughout this park and the High Sierra. Almost every time I’ve enjoyed a view like this one overlooking the Valley, I’ve been surrounded by other hikers—sometimes dozens of them. And yet we’ll encounter just a handful of other people over more than five hours on the trail today—and surprisingly few over the four days of this loop hike, considering its proximity to both the Valley and Tuolumne Meadows.

A backpacker overlooking Half Dome in Yosemite National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm at an overlook toward Half Dome while backpacking in Yosemite National Park.

My friend and regular backpacking compadre Jeff Wilhelm and I have come to Yosemite in late September—luckily, during a respite from the smoke hanging over another grim fire season in California (yet another stark reminder of how little time humanity has to take aggressive action to minimize climate change). Our plan: to hike a four-day, 45-mile loop that 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. And yet, this area doesn’t see nearly the same demand for a coveted wilderness permit as Yosemite’s most popular trailheads, even though it’s just as accessible and only moderately difficult.

You could say this hike is hiding in plain sight.


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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 National Park.

At midday, we stop for lunch beside Snow Creek, still flowing in late September in one of the West’s hottest and driest years on record. Numerous large, flat granite boulders straddle the stream, inviting us to sit—one of several common characteristics of High Sierra creeks that border on perfection and I wish could be copied and pasted to mountain streams everywhere.

Later, as our first afternoon slides toward evening, we hike uphill with packs that have suddenly gained more than 10 pounds, burdened with the weight of 11 liters of water between us in anticipation of a waterless campsite on Indian Ridge. After dinner, we walk out onto a nearby, unnamed granite dome overlooking Half Dome and the Valley—and watch, transfixed, over the course of about an hour as one of the finest sunsets and dusk skies I’ve witnessed in a while patiently unfurls before us.

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North Dome

Lovely, low-angle sunlight and the deep silence of a calm morning accompany Jeff and me as we hike down the nearly treeless southern end of Indian Ridge. To our left, the sheer face of Half Dome looms enormous just across the deep chasm of Yosemite Valley. The trail drops steeply into a saddle and then we stride up onto the broad summit of North Dome—stepping into a heart-stopping panorama.

From this perch at over 7,500 feet, some 3,000 feet above the Valley, our view spans from Clouds Rest and Half Dome to Glacier Point, El Capitan, and beyond.

I’ve seen the Valley and its world-famous cliffs from numerous angles and points of view over the years. But with the scarcity of human traffic here, standing on North Dome feels a little like stumbling upon a well-preserved little secret: Other than a few dayhikers, we have it to ourselves on a spectacular morning when I’m sure the usual hundreds of hikers are parading up and down the Mist Trail.

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A hiker on North Dome overlooking Yosemite Valley in Yosemite National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm on North Dome overlooking Yosemite Valley in Yosemite National Park.

Dropping from North Dome to Lehamite Creek, we’re relieved to find it flowing, though shallow. From there, we continue hiking through forest along the Valley’s North Rim, reaching Yosemite Point, another stirring overlook from the brink of sheer cliffs 3,000 feet above Yosemite Valley. We can see there’s no water pouring over Upper Yosemite Falls—which historically dries up by late summer—but when we reach its source, Yosemite Creek, a little while later, we find good news: large, standing pools of clear water.

In fact, we pass standing pools of clear water for the next several miles of hot afternoon hiking upstream along Yosemite Creek. By early evening, we find a great spot to settle in for the night. Jeff sets up his backpacking cot on one flat spot beside the creek and I lay out my air mat and bag on a slab in the middle of the creek, with shallow, gurgling braids flowing very close by on either side of my bed.

Nightfall brings a black sky riddled with stars and the foggy streak of the Milky Way—but only until the nearly full moon rises, illuminating the land so brightly that we would need no headlamp to walk around.

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The Yosemite Backcountry—A Granite Wonderland

For much of our night on Yosemite Creek, a chilly wind races down the narrow little canyon we’re sleeping in, prompting Jeff and me to mummy deeply inside our bags—which actually feels like a relief compared to our unusually warm first night. In the morning, the wind continues blowing fiercely. Bundled up in down jackets, we gobble down breakfast, eager to get out of camp and warm up on the trail.

Continuing up the Yosemite Creek Trail, we traverse a granite wonderland, intermittently walking through airy forest of widely spaced pine trees and some burned areas. The creek still has pools and flows in places as we steadily gain elevation. We even cross one small tributary that has a good flow—and guzzle water there, knowing we will, at some point today, hike miles under a hot sun without seeing water before reaching our next camp on a lake.

A trip like this goes better with the right gear. See my picks for “The 10 Best Backpacking Packs
and “The 10 Best Backpacking Tents.”

The sky at dusk over Indian Ridge in Yosemite National Park.
The sky at dusk over Indian Ridge in Yosemite National Park.

In late morning, we run into a young woman on her first day of a solo backpacking trip and talk for a few minutes. She’s the first person we’ve seen since we left the vicinity of Upper Yosemite Falls yesterday afternoon and we won’t see another human until encountering just a few parties of backpackers later this afternoon.

Over the course of more than three decades and numerous backpacking, climbing, and dayhiking trips in Yosemite, I have observed this park’s multiple personalities. While most visitors confine themselves to Yosemite Valley, Tuolumne Meadows, and famous hikes like Half Dome and the northernmost section of the John Muir Trail, I’ve had the good fortune to explore much of the park’s backcountry.

Explore the best of Yosemite’s wilderness.
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In remote corners like the Clark Range and the canyons south of Tuolumne and east of the Valley, as well as northern Yosemite’s vast wilderness of deep canyons, 10,000-foot passes, and 12,000-foot peaks, I’ve hiked for hours or even entire, gorgeous summer days without encountering another person (outside my own party)—a counterpoint to the usual narrative of crowds in this flagship national park.

One lake in Yosemite ranks among the best backcountry campsites I’ve ever had among countless nights over four decades of wilderness travel; I’ve also lamented not camping at a spot I hiked past in the Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne River.

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A backpacker in the Ten Lakes Basin, Yosemite National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking in the Ten Lakes Basin, Yosemite National Park.

And that canyon—which I’ve compared to Yosemite Valley, if the Valley had no roads and buildings and was twice as long—was one of many highlights that have disabused me of any notion that, after several trips, I’d already seen all there was worth seeing in Yosemite. Not yet halfway through this hike, I’m already sensing that it will only reinforce that impression.

My experience in Yosemite’s backcountry has informed my conviction that this beloved park, with over 700,000 acres of designated wilderness and 750 miles of trails, offers a lifetime of exploration.

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Good Eats Post- and/or pre-trip, scarf a dinner of the world-famous fish tacos and a breakfast burrito or the Mammoth omelet at the Whoa Nellie Deli, in the Mobil station at the junction of CA 120 and US 395 in Lee Vining, 30 minutes from Tuolumne outside Yosemite’s east entrance; whoanelliedeli.com.

See all of my stories about backpacking in Yosemite National Park at The Big Outside.

The Gear I Used See my reviews of the outstanding backpack, tent, down jacket, sleeping bag, boots, and trekking poles I used on this trip.

Find the best gear, expert buying tips, and best-in-category reviews like “The 10 Best Backpacking Packs” and “The 10 Best Down Jackets” at my Gear Reviews page.

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See my expert tips in these stories:

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
How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be

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.”

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How to Get One of America’s Best Backcountry Campsites https://thebigoutsideblog.com/how-to-get-one-of-americas-best-backcountry-campsites/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/how-to-get-one-of-americas-best-backcountry-campsites/#respond Sat, 30 Jan 2021 10:00:11 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=28502 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Precipice Lake sits in a granite bowl at 10,400 feet along the High Sierra Trail in Sequoia National Park, about a half-mile before 10,700-foot Kaweah Gap. Below the north face of 12,040-foot Eagle Scout Peak, with the nearest tree at least a couple of trail miles below it, the lake’s glassy, green and blue waters reflect a white and golden cliff with black water streaks that embraces the lakeshore across from the trail.

A ribbon-like waterfall, originating in a remnant glacier above the lake, pours down the cliff. Walking up to Precipice Lake reflexively triggers the part of our frontal lobe that’s responsible for the word: “Wow.”

Our small party reached Precipice Lake in late afternoon on the third day of a 40-mile backpacking loop from the Mineral King area of Sequoia; within minutes, we realized that we’d stumbled upon one of the prettiest wilderness campsites any of us had ever seen—and one of my 25 favorite backcountry campsites ever (and I’ve slept in many hundreds over more than three decades of wilderness wandering, including many years running this blog and formerly the Northwest Editor of Backpacker magazine)—so there was no reason to hike a step farther that day.


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

We found tent sites among the granite slabs a short walk above the lake, and my then-12-year-old son and I threw our air mats and bags down on one slab and slept out under a sky riddled with stars.

You can also enjoy a night at Precipice Lake by backpacking the 40-mile loop described in my story about that family trip, which featured a few outstanding campsites (including a second that made my list of 25 all-time favorites), a mystical grove of giant sequoia trees in the wilderness that we had to ourselves, passes reaching over 11,000 feet—and miles of hiking through an incredibly photogenic landscape of razor peaks and alpine lakes so clear you could stand on the shore and read a book laying open on the lake bottom.

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

If you want to plan that trip, now is the time. Starting Feb. 9, Sequoia National Park will issue backcountry permit reservations up to six months in advance of a trip starting date for a trip taking place during the trailhead quota period, generally the Friday before Memorial Day through the second Saturday after Labor Day, or May 28 to Sept. 18, 2021. Given the popularity of the High Sierra Trail—which passes by Precipice Lake—you should apply for your permit on the earliest date possible.

My story about that Sequoia trip also describes how to get a permit for that hike, lays out our hiking itinerary, and provides other details for planning it yourself. Like many stories about trips at The Big Outside, reading the entire story requires a paid subscription, which costs just pennies over $4/month for a year—which gets you a free or discounted e-guide—or as little as five bucks for one month.

I can also help you plan out every detail of this trip or any trip you read about at my blog. See my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how.

Don’t miss my story “Tent Flap With a View: 25 Favorite Backcountry Campsites,” where I share photos and short anecdotes from the prettiest places in the wilderness where I’ve pitched a tent (or slept under the stars) over three decades of backpacking all over the U.S.

That story includes links to existing stories at The Big Outside about the trips on which I enjoyed those special campsites.

See all of my stories about family adventures and national park adventures at The Big Outside.

I’ve helped many readers plan an unforgettable backpacking trip in Sequoia and elsewhere. Want my help with yours? Find out more here.

 

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Best of Yosemite: Backpacking Remote Northern Yosemite https://thebigoutsideblog.com/best-of-yosemite-part-2-backpacking-remote-northern-yosemite/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/best-of-yosemite-part-2-backpacking-remote-northern-yosemite/#comments Fri, 14 Feb 2020 11:00:57 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=20326 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Under a sky lacking even one tiny cotton ball, and so blue you want to pour it into a cup and drink it, Todd and I walk across Tuolumne Meadows, carrying full but light backpacks and hearts full of anticipation. Across the creek-cut meadows, Cathedral Peak knifes into the stratosphere, and domes of polished granite bubble up above the treetops. The temperature hovers around 60° F, the air is as calm as a monk.

When you’re hiking on a September morning at 8,600 feet in the high country of Yosemite National Park, life floats intoxicatingly close to perfection.

And why wouldn’t it seem perfect? My friend Todd Arndt and I have embarked on an ambitious plan to backpack nearly 87 miles in four days through the biggest, loneliest, and most remote chunk of wilderness on the Yosemite map: a circuit north of Tuolumne Meadows through a vast realm of deep canyons, passes at over 10,000 feet, and peaks rising to over 12,000 feet.

Todd Arndt hiking up Matterhorn Canyon in Yosemite National Park.
Todd Arndt hiking up Matterhorn Canyon in Yosemite National Park.

Although I’ve been to this park several times, every visit makes me want to pinch myself. After all, this is Yosemite, the Sistine Chapel of national parks. Just uttering the name, you expect to hear heavenly trumpets and a chorus of angels singing. Half a lifetime ago, when I was a young, clueless, novice backpacker who had only barely begun exploring the rocky hills of New England, I decided to take my first big Western backpacking trip. But I didn’t want to start in the minor leagues and work my way up. Like thousands of backpackers every year, I wanted to go right to the best. So I chose Yosemite.

Now, a few decades later, I’m finally about to discover Yosemite’s farthest corners, her best-kept secrets. It’s like I’ve been hiding the map to a buried treasure for all these years and, at long last, I’m going to follow it to dig up my fortune.


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Todd and I cruise the easy six miles from Tuolumne to Glen Aulin—the Gaelic term for “beautiful valley”—in two hours, knocking off nearly one-third of our first day’s mileage quickly. We take a short break beside cascades with a view down the Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne River—which we’ll hike back up in just two days—and hit the trail again.

It feels joyous just to be out on a big hike in this park.

Tuolumne Meadows, Yosemite National Park. Tuolumne Meadows, Yosemite National Park. White Cascade (Glen Aulin Falls) near Glen Aulin in Yosemite National Park. Glen Aulin and the upper Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne River in Yosemite. Todd at Burro Pass above Matterhorn Canyon, Yosemite. The PCT in Cold Canyon, Yosemite. The PCT above Matterhorn Canyon, Yosemite. Matterhorn Canyon in Yosemite. Matterhorn Canyon in Yosemite. Todd hiking up Matterhorn Canyon, Yosemite. Below Sawtooth Ridge in Yosemite.

A Mild But Healthy Obsession

Todd and I have returned to Yosemite a year after hiking a three-day, 65-mile loop south of Tuolumne Meadows last September because we have some unfinished business. We had originally planned to complete a 152-mile grand tour of Yosemite’s most remote backcountry in seven consecutive days last year, but smoke from wildfires sent us home early (although the smoke hadn’t affected our three-day hike).

As I wrote in my story about the 65-mile, first leg of this Yosemithon, after several visits to Yosemite, backpacking, dayhiking, and climbing, 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, which we backpacked last year; and even vaster northern Yosemite, which stretches out before us now.

I should back up. For years, I’ve kept a list of ideas for trips I want to take, with brief notes about each. It’s inspirational and a resource I review whenever I’m thinking about where to go next. (Keeping such a list is tip no. 1 in my “10 Tips For Getting Outside More.”) And my list keeps getting longer, not shorter: It’s now well over 17,000 words.

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Looking northeast from Mule Pass in Yosemite National Park.
Looking northeast from Mule Pass in remote northern Yosemite. Click photo for my e-guide to this trip.

But I confess: I get a little overwrought thinking about a hike or climb that’s been on my trip ideas list for a while. I’ll reach a point where I can’t stop thinking about it—and the more I think about it, the more I feel an overwhelming need to get it done, and that gets me thinking about it more, which inflames my irrepressible desire to get it done. It’s a vicious cycle and often leads to me concocting a plan that involves hiking distances that only a very small group of my most, um, unique friends would view as a good idea.

My WOCD (Wilderness Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder) has led to some extreme perambulations, several of which Todd has been a party to, including hiking 44+ miles across the Grand Canyon and back in a day, dayhiking 50 miles across Zion, and thru-hiking the John Muir Trail in seven days, averaging 31 miles a day. (Todd’s feet—which got so badly blistered that he had to go on antibiotics afterward—have still not forgiven me for that last one.)

I’ve helped many readers plan an unforgettable backpacking trip in Yosemite.
Want my help with yours? Find out more here.

However borderline psychotic these adventures, we’ve always undertaken them with a high degree of preparedness—and yet, not without a niggling feeling of realistic uncertainty.

Our plan to walk through most of northern Yosemite in just four days feels no different. Although we managed 65 rugged miles in three days pretty well a year ago, this time we’re adding a fourth consecutive 20+-mile day to a tough itinerary that features lots of vertical relief—including today, when we’ll cross four passes, three of them over 10,000 feet. Todd tells me this will be the longest hike he’s ever done except for our JMT thru-hike.

I think my feet began a low-grade throbbing even before we started out today, as a warm-up for the next four evenings.

Below Mule Pass, Hoover Wilderness. Rancheria Creek Valley, Yosemite. Hiking to Rock Island Pass, Hoover Wilderness. Hiking to Rock Island Pass, Hoover Wilderness. Kerrick Canyon in Yosemite. View along PCT north of Benson Lake, Yosemite. Benson Lake in Yosemite. Kerrick Canyon in Yosemite. Benson Lake in Yosemite. Along the PCT south of Benson Lake, Yosemite. Rodgers Canyon in Yosemite.

Matterhorn Canyon to Benson Lake

Following a clear night camped in Matterhorn Canyon, a short walk from a creek that lulled us to sleep, Todd and I hit the trail at 7 a.m. on our second morning. It’s chilly but calm. We prefer hiking while it’s cool, and we have a long day ahead of us. Besides, we both feel good after a 20-mile day yesterday. Todd recalls of our past ultra-hikes: “I remember it’s not cumulative—your legs don’t feel worse every day.”

Within a half-hour, Matterhorn Canyon opens up. Small, scattered copses of conifer trees throw spots of green on a landscape dominated by granite—stones and boulders littering the canyon bottom, rock walls stretching to the sky on both sides of us. Thanks to our early start, we’re hiking in the cool shade of those cliffs in this broad canyon. When the sun finally crests the walls, it’s warm, but not the searing heat of July or August in the High Sierra. Walking at a brisk pace with our light packs, I’m not even breaking a sweat. This is exactly how I like to backpack. (See my top five tips on my backpacking strategy.)

Get the right pack for a hike like this one in Yosemite. See my picks for “The 10 Best Backpacking Packs
and the best ultralight backpacks.

 

At 10,650-foot Burro Pass, we drop our packs for a snack and to soak up the view of upper Matterhorn Canyon’s meadows and rock gardens embraced by an arc of cliffs, pinnacles, and 12,264-foot Matterhorn Peak. Beyond Burro, we cross a cirque below the serrated Sawtooth Ridge, followed by arduous climbs over two more 10,000-foot passes, Mule and Rock Island.

By early evening on our second day, we cross our fourth pass of the day—Seavey, at just over 9,000 feet—and stroll past quiet tarns where a few parties of backpackers have already pitched their tents in the forest. It strikes me that they are the first people Todd and I have seen all day—not an observation one expects to make in Yosemite. That’s because we tend to think of “that Yosemite”—the overcrowded park—but Todd and I are exploring “this Yosemite,” its most remote backcountry. A gargantuan moon rises over 10,000-foot peaks bathing in the last, red rays of daylight as we make the steep, quad-melting, 1,500-foot descent to Benson Lake.

At Benson, we walk up to 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 more than 22 miles today, the cool sand and cold water feel so good on our bare feet that I swear I heard my toes sigh.

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Thru-Hiking the John Muir Trail in 7 Days: Amazing Experience, or Certifiably Insane? https://thebigoutsideblog.com/thru-hiking-the-john-muir-trail-in-a-week-a-once-in-a-lifetime-experience-or-just-certifiably-insane/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/thru-hiking-the-john-muir-trail-in-a-week-a-once-in-a-lifetime-experience-or-just-certifiably-insane/#comments Thu, 12 Dec 2019 10:31:00 +0000 http://thebigoutside.net/?p=342 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

“Umm, hey buddy, you okay?”

It’s 4:30 a.m., a time of day that puts us in the questionable company of cat burglars and alpinists. Our headlamp beams seem to bounce off the inky black of a moonless night in Yosemite Valley. Four of us are taking the first steps on the 221-mile John Muir Trail. And my friend Mark Fenton is staggering like a frat boy on a weekend bender.

“No problem, just a little vertigo I get hiking in the dark. I’ll be fine.” As if scripted for a sitcom, he then lurches too near the edge of the trail—which drops off into the dark roar of the Merced River far below.

From that moment on, he becomes known as Stumbles.

We laugh, because the nickname’s funny and appropriate, and because our packs weigh in at only six pounds, and because the four of us have trained and trained some more for the insane undertaking we’ve just begun—so we’re practically running uphill effortlessly, feeling as fit as racehorses. But mostly we laugh because we are only at the beginning of an odyssey that seemed impossible when we first contemplated the idea. We haven’t yet entered the zone of constant pain, so it’s easy to delude ourselves into believing that we aren’t pursuing an ambition of fools.

 

Besides, we’re in Yosemite, a place crazy with distractions. In the faint first light, 600-foot Nevada Falls looks like a wavering white apparition, and our inability to see it well seems to amplify the sound of the free-falling water sheering through air like a liquid guillotine. Deer bound away silently in the chilling dawn. At mid-morning, from ledges at 9,000 feet, we go slack-jawed at a shark’s grin of peaks: Tenaya, Tressider, Cathedral, Matthes Crest. We’re giddy as little girls, knowing this is just a scenic appetizer for the feast of alpine vistas awaiting us over the course of the week ahead on the JMT: snow-draped mountains and jagged granite spires, passes from 11,000 to over 13,000 feet, and a constellation of lakes reflecting it all upside down.

That’s right, I wrote “the week ahead.” We’re out here as guinea pigs testing a theory that, by arriving ultra-fit and going ultralight, we can collapse a hike normally stretched out over three weeks or more into seven days. We’re taking what Ray Jardine preached in The Pacific Crest Trail Hiker’s Handbook back in the 1990’s—a then-controversial gospel that called for drastically slashing pack weight and ramping up daily mileage—to a questionable extreme. The math sounds pretty simple: trim pack weight by two-thirds (or more), and hike three times as far. A lot of Ray’s disciples have since embraced the ultralight strategy with great satisfaction, including many Pacific Crest Trail thru-hikers, who would not complete that 2,600-mile thru-hike in one season without going light.

See “Thru-Hiking the John Muir Trail: What You Need to Know.”


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I’ve made a steady evolution into that style of backpacking, going from regularly lugging 50-pound loads for eight or 10 arduous miles a day to carrying sub-30-pound packs on 15- or 20-mile days. Instead of suffering under an unwieldy load and taking five days to hike 40 miles, I’d walk more comfortably and finish in three days, or hike farther in the same five days, and feel less taxed physically. I’ve found it easier to train for walking farther with a moderate load than for walking less distance with a heavy one. And based on personal experience and what I’ve seen happen to other hikers, I’m convinced that backcountry injuries are more often attributable to excessive pack weight than to excessive miles.

To purist backpackers who object that I’m not stopping to smell the roses—or whatever it is one smells when bent double under a huge pack—I point out that I’ve simply gone from walking 2 mph to walking 3 mph. I’m not missing anything; in fact, I’m going farther and seeing more than I used to. But just finishing a day on the trail feeling great was evidence enough for me.

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Mark Fenton on the JMT in Yosemite. On the JMT overlooking the Cathedral Range, Yosemite. Heather Dorn on JMT below Cathedral Peak, Yosemite. JMT camp on lake north of Donohue Pass, Yosemite. Todd Arndt reaching Donohue Pass, JMT, Yosemite. Banner Peak, Thousand Island Lake, John Muir Trail, Ansel Adams Wilderness. South of Donohue Pass, Ansel Adams Wilderness, High Sierra Garnet Lake, Ansel Adams Wilderness. Above Cascade Valley on the JMT, John Muir Wilderness. Todd Arndt, Lake Virginia, John Muir Wilderness. Hiking to Silver Pass, John Muir Wilderness. Soaking feet, Silver Pass Creek, John Muir Wilderness, High Sierra Heather Dorn's feet at Silver Pass Creek, day four. Camp above Quail Meadows, John Muir Wilderness. Marie Lake, near Selden Pass Marie Lake, near Selden Pass South Fork San Joaquin River, High Sierra Helen Lake area, Kings Canyon N.P., View from JMT at Mather Pass, Kings Canyon N.P. Todd Arndt at dusk, Mather Pass, Kings Canyon N.P. Lake Marjorie, Kings Canyon N.P., Mark hiking to Pinchot Pass, Kings Canyon N.P., Hiking to Glen Pass, Kings Canyon N.P., High Sierra Hiking to Forester Pass, Kings Canyon N.P. Descending south from Forester Pass, Sequoia N.P. Dollar Lake, Sixty Lakes Basin, Kings Canyon N.P.

Fastpacking the John Muir Trail

For a few years, the idea of speed-hiking the JMT had been stabbing the button of my obsessive-compulsive disorder, demanding my attention like a tiny thorn in my sock. I learned that fit hikers going überlight were sailing “America’s most beautiful trail,” as the JMT is often called, in just 10 days; it sounded reasonable, given the Sierra’s dry, mild summer weather and the trail’s moderate grades. Then I bumped into one ultralight guru who suggested cranking it in seven days. Another Muir Trail veteran told me that “30- to 40-mile days are totally doable.”

Unfortunately, where another hiker might think that pounding out 31 miles a day for a solid week sounds just slightly over the top, my admittedly altered brain chemistry rationalizes, “How hard could that be?” I also had the ulterior motive of simply wanting to hike the entire trail, but knowing I couldn’t possibly abandon my working wife and two young kids for three weeks. Before long, I’d convinced myself that a seven-day thru-hike of the JMT—221 miles including the 11-mile descent off Mt. Whitney (the 211-mile JMT terminates at its summit), with more than 40,000 feet of elevation gain—was not only feasible: It would even, quite possibly, be fun.

Right now, anyway, my prognostication is looking pretty good. At the risk of sounding cocky, we’re chewing up ground. We roll into Sunrise High Sierra Camp—nearly 13 miles out—by 10 a.m., as fresh as if we just did a 10-minute warm-up. The afternoon heat drains us, but we refuel on burgers, fries, and milkshakes at the Tuolumne Meadows café at around mile 22, and rendezvous with Mark’s wife and kids, who’ve driven there with our camping gear and a food resupply for the next two days. Then we set out again with 18-pound packs to hike into the evening.

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In the mountain dusk of 7 p.m., we pitch our tarps near a windswept, unnamed alpine tarn at 10,180 feet in Lyell Canyon. We pass the ibuprofen like we’re doing shots, rub tired-but-not-aching feet, and take stock. On our first day, we’ve walked 34 miles, with 7,000 feet of uphill. Mark’s pedometer reports the day’s mind-boggling tally: 72,376 steps. We should look like enemy combatants with open-ended leases at Guantanamo, but instead, we’re just tired.

As we take an icy dip in the lake, below a skyline of granite cliffs, Stumbles tells me with an ears-wide grin, “You know what? I can’t believe how good I feel.”

I smile, naively thinking: We’ve got this thing licked.

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 to get my help planning your JMT hike of any length.

Planning a John Muir Trail Thru-Hike

“Subject: Re: You’re going to do what in 7 days?!”

That was Mark’s response to my e-mail, months earlier, baiting him with a passing mention of my plan. Mark, who lives south of Boston, is an author of books on fitness walking and a former U.S. race-walking team member who’s now, like me, past 40 with a demanding career and a young family. I wanted him in, but knew I couldn’t just invite him outright. Mark’s a hyper-analytical MIT guy: He would react to this supremely irrational idea in a very rational way—dismissing it as a plan for masochists.

I knew that before agreeing to this level of insanity, he would have to go through something like the stages of grief: First there is denial (“No way I’m doing something that stupid”), then anger (“Why me?!”), followed by bargaining (“Okay, I’m tentatively in, but I reserve the right to back out at any time”), depression (“Oh, my God, we’re actually going to do this”), and finally, acceptance (“I’m an idiot”).

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and “How to Choose the Best Ultralight Backpacking Tent for You.”

Honing my sales pitch as Fenton chewed on my proposal, I started recruiting a team of the blissfully ignorant.

My fellow-Idahoan friend Todd Arndt takes hours-long trail runs and still fondly recalls the time we hiked 8,000 feet up out of Hells Canyon—108° F., no shade. Todd’s a doctor, so if one of us perished—assuming it’s not him—at least we’d have someone who’s qualified to pronounce the time of death. When I called him and broached the idea, there followed a long pause, then he said slowly, as if he’d just bumped his head very hard: “That. Sounds. Great.”

Heather Dorn on the JMT below Cathedral Peak in Yosemite.
Heather Dorn on the JMT below Cathedral Peak in Yosemite.

Heather Dorn, mother of two girls and living at the time in Pennsylvania, exhibited impeccable judgment—a valuable wilderness asset—by avoiding my calls and emails for weeks. But proving demonstrably that a Y chromosome is not a prerequisite for bad judgment, she ultimately gave in to the lure of the impossible disguised as plausible.

And Mark Godley, of the Bay Area, was tough enough for it: He had hiked with me through the rugged Bailey Range of the Olympics carrying a sleeping bag the size of a prize-winning pumpkin. In a two-career marriage with three preschool children, he couldn’t escape for a week, but would join us for our last two days.

And a month after that first e-mail to Fenton, he was in. Defying reason, I had a team.

We set out to get in the shape of our lives in four months—going out on 5 a.m. speed hikes, grinding out 25-mile dayhikes in blistering heat, doing ridiculous numbers of lunges. A few weeks prior to meeting up in Yosemite Valley, Fenton and I banged out a one-day, 32-mile hike of the Pemi Loop in New Hampshire’s White Mountains with 10,000 feet of ups and downs.

We were ready. Or so we thought.

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and “10 Tricks For Making Hiking and Backpacking Easier.”

 

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Best of Yosemite: Backpacking South of Tuolumne Meadows https://thebigoutsideblog.com/best-of-yosemite-part-1-backpacking-south-of-tuolumne-meadows/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/best-of-yosemite-part-1-backpacking-south-of-tuolumne-meadows/#comments Sun, 17 Nov 2019 11:00:25 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=14249 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

I am floating in the stratosphere.

The feeling reminds me of childhood dreams of flying, but this is no dream. We are hiking across the slender, granite spine of 9,926-foot Clouds Rest, between sphincter-puckering abysses of deep air in the heart of Yosemite National Park. Below my left elbow, the rock drops off like a very long and insanely steep slide for several hundred feet before reaching forest; and that’s the side that feels less exposed. Below my right elbow, a cliff face sweeps downward a dizzying, stomach-churning 4,000 feet—that’s a thousand feet taller than the face of El Capitan.

Strolling over this airy catwalk toward the top of Clouds Rest (lead photo, above), seeing the world the way that soaring hawks and bald eagles see it, feels about as close to flying as a terrestrial creature can get while keeping at least one foot reassuringly attached to solid earth. From the expressions on the faces of my friends Todd Arndt, Mark Fenton, and Jeff Wilhelm, I can see they’re thinking the same thing.

Todd Arndt on the summit of Half Dome, Yosemite National Park.
Todd Arndt on the summit of Half Dome in Yosemite.

Ahead of us, just a few miles away, Half Dome and Yosemite Valley look surreal—like an Ansel Adams photograph blown up to full-Earth scale. Farther off, the Cathedral Range, Clark Range, and the peaks of northern Yosemite point sharpened knives at the sky. It’s one of the best views reached by trail in a park overstuffed with world-famous scenery. And while hundreds of hikers will file up the Mist Trail and Half Dome today, we have Clouds Rest to ourselves.

Clouds Rest marks an auspicious start to an ambitious trek I’ve wanted to do for a long time: a 152-mile grand tour of the most remote reaches of Yosemite, hiking through much of the vast sweep of far-off mountains and canyons sprawling before us.

And we’ll do it all in a week.

We are seven miles into the first morning of the first leg of my plan: a 65-mile backpacking trip south of Tuolumne Meadows, which we intend to knock off in three long days, hitting highlights such as Clouds Rest, Half Dome, Vogelsang Pass and Lake, and remote Red Peak Pass in the Clark Range. We’ll follow that with an 87-mile hike north of Tuolumne in four days.

Backpacking 152 miles in seven days will certainly challenge all of us, but we’ve done this sort of thing before. Todd, Mark, and Jeff share my enthusiasm for hiking distances that most people associate with forced marches or bird migrations.

We’ll travel very light and hike 12-hour days simply because we want to see as much of Yosemite as we can in the limited time we have. And our agenda promises big rewards. We’ll explore the wildest wilderness in the very landscape that inspired John Muir to commit his life to preserving places like Yosemite—that helped popularize the very idea of national parks: In 1864—eight years before the designation of Yellowstone National Park—President Abraham Lincoln signed a law granting Yosemite Valley and the nearby Mariposa Grove of giant sequoias to the state of California to protect. A generation later, Muir’s dogged activism led to the 1890 designation of Yosemite as our third national park.


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A backpacker on Clouds Rest in Yosemite National Park.
Mark Fenton backpacking up Clouds Rest in Yosemite National Park.

Having hiked quite a lot with my three companions—including the John Muir Trail, Timberline Trail, dayhiking the Grand Canyon rim to rim to rim and across Zion National Park, and trekking in New Zealand and Patagonia—I’m pretty confident that we’ll make it.

But from Clouds Rest, looking out over much of Yosemite’s 1,169 square miles and contemplating that we plan to hike through most of what we can see over the next week leaves me feeling a mix of excitement and trepidation. It all looks very far away. I know we’re all wondering: Can we pull this off?

Depending on your perspective, you might think our agenda has a dreamlike quality—or sounds like a nightmare.

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Hiking Clouds Rest. A grouse along the trail to Clouds Rest. Hiking Clouds Rest. Hiking Clouds Rest. Hiking Clouds Rest. Hiking Clouds Rest. Hiking Clouds Rest. Todd atop a pinnacle on Clouds Rest.

Hiking Half Dome

I’ve returned to Yosemite on a mission. After several visits, I’ve seen a fair bit of this flagship park: three previous backpacking trips in the park’s core, summiting Half Dome (a couple times), thru-hiking the John Muir Trail (about 37 miles of which are in Yosemite), dayhiking the Mist Trail and Upper Yosemite Falls, and rock climbing Cathedral Peak and other routes. A lot of people would probably feel satisfied that they had covered Yosemite fairly thoroughly.

But not me. I have an irrepressible fear that I might not hike every worthwhile trail and peak in America (or, I suppose, the world) before I’m old—at which point I’ll live out my tragically sad, last days drowning in regret over the life that might have been. That might sound like a severe case of WOCD (Wilderness Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder), but the more I get out, the more I crave the next adventure.

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Setting aside whether that’s totally healthy from an emotional standpoint, more than 20 years after my first visit to Yosemite, I found myself haunted by frustration over having still only scratched the surface of this nearly 750,000-acre crown jewel of the National Park System. How could I have let that happen?

For years I’ve yearned to explore the two biggest swaths of wilderness on the map of Yosemite: the Clark Range and Merced River headwaters south of Tuolumne Meadows; and northern Yosemite, a vast reach of deep canyons and sub-alpine lakes and meadows hemmed in by an arc of 12,000-foot peaks.

Now, with a bold plan, seven days blocked out, and hopefully enough stamina, we just might complete that mission.

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The view of Yosemite Valley from Clouds Rest in Yosemite National Park. Hiking south from Clouds Rest. Sign on Half Dome Trail. Hiking Half Dome. Hiking Half Dome. Hiking Half Dome. Summit of Half Dome. "The Visor" on Half Dome. A hiker on the Visor of Half Dome, above Yosemite Valley.

Later that first day, beyond Clouds Rest, we stash our packs in the woods and start up the Half Dome Trail—of course. Scaling Half Dome is a rite of passage for Yosemite hikers, so even though we’re just halfway through a day that will stretch more than 20 miles and not end until dusk, we’re going up. Beneath a clear sky, gusts of wind buffet us as we haul ourselves up the cable route, scaling several hundred vertical feet of severely angled granite.

This marks the third time I’ve hiked the cable route on Half Dome. (See my tips on hiking Half Dome and my “10 Tips For Getting a Hard-to-Get National Park Backcountry Permit.”) Biggest surprise this time? How steep it seems to me. Looking up and down the cables, I wonder whether they felt this steep those previous times and I just don’t remember—or age is making me more conscious of the peril of defying gravity. Either way, a little healthy respect for gravity isn’t slowing us down—although the column of people is.

Despite the inevitable traffic jams, though, a block-party atmosphere prevails. Complete strangers exchange “Well, gee, look at us!” expressions. Jeff, Todd, and Mark are grinning like boys sprinting into the surf at the beach. Halfway up, we chat with three sisters, well into middle age and none of them much for hiking, but one decided they needed to share some big adventure together and, by gosh, now they’re going up this thing. On top, we take the requisite photos standing on “The Visor”—a ledge jutting out over a vertical half-mile of thin air above Yosemite Valley. Then we chat with a couple just finishing their two-day rock climb of Half Dome’s famous big wall.

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While you won’t find anything approaching solitude on Half Dome, here’s what I think is wonderful about hiking it (besides the thrill and the views): Even though we’re on a 150-mile odyssey, we’re no less excited for the three sisters on possibly the biggest one-day adventure of their lives. And even though that climber couple just lived for two days on a 2,000-foot cliff, they’re no less pumped for us. Half Dome—like Yosemite itself—is a great, big melting pot under the Sierra sun, where people from all walks and all over the world cross paths in pursuit of their own favorite adventure flavor.

By that evening, we’re many miles from where we started the day, at Tenaya Lake. The sun begins its final descent as we cruise along the trail high above Illilouette Creek, hoping to find a campsite before dark. Mark stops abruptly, points, and calls out, “There’s a bear!” The large black bear sprints away from us in the sparse forest, and then stops some 50 yards off, sits and stares back at us—as if reconsidering who should be running from whom. That’s when we notice the little trickle of water nearby—not much, but the only water we’ve seen on this high plateau for miles; the bear is waiting for us to leave so he can get back to slaking his substantial ursine thirst.

So in the interest of being good neighbors—and avoiding any unnecessary rough stuff—we move on.

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and the best thru-hiking packs.

Half Dome's cable route. By the Merced River below Liberty Cap. Top of Nevada Fall. View of Half Dome and Liberty Cap. Illilouette Creek Trail. Lower Ottoway Lake. Upper Ottoway Lake.

Red Peak Pass

Sucking air while climbing through switchbacks on our second day, I look up at Todd and Mark, chugging on ahead of me, wondering how they maintain that pace. That’s the trouble with having strong partners: You can get an inferiority complex. Before long, we reach a narrow notch that looks like it was chopped into the ridge by a hatchet—11,500-foot Red Peak Pass, the highest pass reached by trail in Yosemite. Getting here was worth struggling to breathe.

A stunning landscape spreads out before (and mostly below) us: the busted-up, burgundy face of 11,699-foot Red Peak; the Ottaway Lakes, inviting a swim and looking like a great spot to camp; and awaiting us on the other side of the pass, a constellation of smaller lakes sprinkled across a starkly barren plateau of reddish-orange rocks.

These are the headwaters of the Merced River, which, many miles downstream, thunders over 594-foot Nevada Fall and showers heavy mist onto hikers below 318-foot Vernal Fall, before meandering peacefully through Yosemite Valley. There, thousands of people file nose to butt along popular trails. Here, we see no one. When Mark says, “I’m feeling pretty good, actually,” he gets only agreement from Todd and Jeff.

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

Moments like this validate for me our strategy of packing really light—taking only essentials—and hiking long days, the only way we’d see so much terrain in so little time. The bonus in our approach is seeing wild country at times of day, early morning and evening, when most other backpackers are still snoozing in their bags or sitting around camp.

Our ultra-hiking adventures share one common denominator: me as Planner-in-Chief. Truth be told, I have perhaps occasionally pushed us beyond everyone’s comfortable physical limits. (After six days averaging 30 miles a day on the JMT, the final day’s 35 miles, with two 13,000-foot passes, left us all with open, bleeding blisters.) Still, we all look forward to the next one, knowing the payoff far exceeds any pain.

I suppose there’s another instigating factor behind our mega-treks: I get obsessed with hikes I haven’t done, especially a peak or trail that’s been on my list for a while. Case in point: About five years after my wife and I moved to Idaho, I could not stop thinking about the fact that I had yet to climb the state’s high point, 12,662-foot Borah Peak. How could I have let that happen??? But as usual, my summer was completely booked—except for a 24-hour window in July. So I left home at 5 p.m. on a Sunday, alone, drove four hours to camp at the trailhead, got up at first light, made the 5,300-foot, nearly eight-mile hike and descent in five hours, and got home an hour before I had to pick up our son at daycare at 5 p.m. A huge weight lifted from my shoulders—briefly.

We hike into our second evening across a 9,500-foot plateau above the Merced Canyon, through a forest of widely spaced pine trees, glacial-erratic boulders, and deafening quietude. After a steep, 1,000-foot descent at dusk into the canyon of the roaring Lyell Fork of the Merced River, flanked by towering cliffs, we find a granite slab bigger than my back yard sitting midstream. It’s a clear night, so we lay out our pads and bags on the clean rock and watch the tracer fire of shooting stars light up the sky.

Get the right synthetic or down puffy to keep you warm. See my review of “The 10 Best Down Jackets.”

Red Peak Pass. Descending east from Red Peak Pass. Hiking east of Red Peak Pass. View toward Red Peak Pass. High trail above Merced Canyon. Campsite on Lyell Fork of Merced River. Waterfall, Lewis Creek Valley.

Vogelsang Pass

On our third and final morning, I wake at 4:45 a.m. Mark’s already stirring; Todd and Jeff rise soon afterward, as I fire up the stove. By 6 a.m., we’re on the trail, wearing headlamps for only about 15 minutes before we have enough daylight. We all love hiking at this time of day, when dawn light first begins poking its way across the landscape, sparking mountaintops with small blazes of orange light, when we might see a deer or two, or a black bear gorging on berries.

We climb several hundred feet out of Lyell Fork, traversing cliff ledges with views overlooking the Merced Valley and the jagged skyline around Red Peak Pass, then hike through more blissfully quiet pine forest. After a couple of hours, Todd says, “This was the best morning besides going over Clouds Rest.”

On these trips when we’re hiking more than 20 miles a day, there are always extremes of emotion. There are moments near the end of a long day when your body and feet feel beat up and you’re wondering why you’re doing this. But there are also moments of powerfully positive feeling—at an awe-inspiring view, or on one of those peaceful afternoons or early mornings of walking through quiet forest—when I’m reminded of exactly why I like hiking long days in the wilderness.

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.

Around 10 a.m., as we’re starting our last climb, to Vogelsang Pass, I’m reminded again of one significant benefit of hiking in the cool hours of early morning: Some four hours and nearly 10 miles into our day, I’ve yet to really break a sweat. We’ve also just passed by the seventh or eighth deer we’ve seen on this trip; and moments later, we walk past three bucks, each sporting a rack of eight or 10 points.

We reach Vogelsang Pass before 11 a.m. and stop to take in the view down to Vogelsang Lake, nestled in an expansive granite basin. We exchange looks and grins, and 20 minutes later, we’re all diving into the lake. After a hot, dusty, mostly shadeless hike down the Rafferty Creek Trail, we take one more dip in Lyell Canyon—a fitting finish to the glorious first leg of my Yosemite obsession.

But my mission isn’t over yet. Ahead of us awaits the tougher, 87-mile hike through northern Yosemite—a trek that will forever change how I look at this park.

See my story about our 87-mile, second leg of this 152-mile tour of Yosemite, “Best of Yosemite, Part 2: Backpacking Remote Northern Yosemite,” and all of my stories about Yosemite and adventures in California national parks, and my stories about ultra-hiking at The Big Outside.

THIS TRIP IS GOOD FOR experienced, fit backpackers ready to step up their game and explore beyond the most-accessible trails. Trails are well marked and obvious, so navigation isn’t an issue for anyone capable of reading a map. Challenges include long climbs to passes up to 11,500 feet and the fatiguing character of the typically hot High Sierra afternoons. I recommend traveling with as light a pack as possible (see my ultralight backpacking tips). If you’re planning your first multi-day hike in Yosemite and have a good base of experience, this hike is a good choice. Otherwise, see my story “Ask Me: Where to Backpack First Time in Yosemite” for a five-star route that hits highlights like Clouds Rest and Half Dome but is shorter and less committing.

Make It Happen

Season The higher elevations and passes in Yosemite generally become mostly snow-free by early to mid-July and summer weather usually lasts well into September and sometimes into October—but watch the forecast in fall, because a first-of-the-season snowstorm could dump several inches or more.

The Itinerary We took three days, but many backpackers would prefer to take five to seven days for the 65-mile hike south of Tuolumne Meadows.

From the Sunrise Lakes Trailhead at the west end of Tenaya Lake, hike over Clouds Rest and continue to the Half Dome Trail, which you’ll do as an out-and-back side trip. Many backpackers will want to spend a night at Little Yosemite Valley, the only designated camping in the area and the most popular backcountry camp in the park; reserve your permit six months in advance (see Permit section below). Continue past Nevada Fall, and then hike up the Illilouette Creek Valley and along Ottoway Creek to Red Peak Pass. At the Triple Peak Fork of the Merced River, head toward Isberg Pass, but turn north before the pass onto the trail following the rim above the Merced River (past Cony Crags).

Turn up the Lewis Creek Valley to Vogelsang Pass, then descend to Vogelsang Lake and follow the Rafferty Creek Trail to the John Muir Trail/PCT to Tuolumne Meadows. Finish at the Rafferty Creek/Lyell Canyon Trailhead.

See my downloadable e-guides to three stellar, multi-day hikes in Yosemite, including “The Best First Backpacking Trip in Yosemite.”

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.

Getting There Leave your car where this trip ends, at the Rafferty Creek/Lyell Canyon Trailhead in Tuolumne Meadows (down the road past the Wilderness Center). Then take the park shuttle bus to the Sunrise Lakes Trailhead at the west end of Tenaya Lake on Tioga Pass Road to start the hike.

For information about public transportation options in and around Yosemite, see nps.gov/yose/planyourvisit/publictransportation.htm.

Shuttle Service Tuolumne Meadows has a convenient shuttle bus connecting trailheads that operates from June through mid-September.

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 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. 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).

Forty percent of wilderness permits are available on a first-come basis at recreation.gov up to seven days in advance. The non-refundable permit fee is $10 for each lottery entered or a walk-up permit plus $5 per person if you get a permit. 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 an adjacent wilderness area and continuous wilderness travel into Yosemite are honored by Yosemite National Park. 

See my stories “How to Get a Yosemite or High Sierra Wilderness Permit,” “How to Get a Last-Minute Yosemite Wilderness Permit Now,” and “10 Tips for Getting a Hard-to-Get National Park Backcountry Permit.”

Find more info at nps.gov/yose/planyourvisit/wildpermits.htm and nps.gov/yose/planyourvisit/wildpermitdates.htm.

Map Trails Illustrated Yosemite National Park map no. 206, $14.95, natgeomaps.com. Tom Harrison Yosemite National Park map, $12.95, tomharrisonmaps.com.

E-Book Click here now for my e-book “The Best Backpacking Trip in Yosemite.”

Concerns

•    A bear canister is required for food storage when backcountry camping in Yosemite or anywhere in the High Sierra. Canisters are available for loan at the park’s Wilderness Centers, including the one in Tuolumne Meadows, where you will pick up your backcountry permit.
•    Water is plentiful enough along the route, but there are waterless stretches, including for several miles going over Clouds Rest; between the Merced River at Nevada Fall and the Merced Pass Lakes; and between Triple Peak Fork (Merced River headwaters area) and the Lyell Fork of the Merced. Estimate how long it will take you to hike those sections and carry enough water.
•    High Sierra summer afternoons can be very hot, and high elevation and the dearth of shade magnify the effects of the heat. Wear a wide-brim hat, stay well hydrated, start early to hike in the cool morning hours, and don’t overpack. I also prefer wearing lightweight shoes or boots on trips that are hot and often dry. See my ultralight backpacking tips and my “10 Tips For Making Hiking and Backpacking Easier” and “7 Tips For Avoiding Blisters.”
•    Mosquitoes are thick in summer until mid- to late August.

Good Eats Post- and/or pre-trip, scarf a dinner of the world-famous fish tacos and a breakfast burrito at the Whoa Nellie Deli, in the Mobil station at the junction of CA 120 and US 395 in Lee Vining, 30 minutes from Tuolumne outside Yosemite’s east entrance; whoanelliedeli.com.

Contact Yosemite National Park, nps.gov/yose.

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

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A Practical Guide to Lightweight and Ultralight Backpacking https://thebigoutsideblog.com/the-simple-equation-of-ultralight-backpacking-less-weight-more-fun/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/the-simple-equation-of-ultralight-backpacking-less-weight-more-fun/#comments Fri, 14 Jun 2019 11:00:57 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=2779 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

What if you could do one thing to make every backpacking trip more enjoyable? Thousands of miles of backpacking have taught me what that one thing is: keeping my pack light. All of the superfluous ounces removed from my pack add up to fewer pounds on my back, and that makes each trip better. And a smart approach to ultralight and lightweight backpacking does not compromise safety or comfort—the point is to increase comfort and safety. If you’re not accomplishing both objectives, you need a new strategy.

In this article, I’ll share my tips for minimizing pack weight while staying safe and comfortable on every trip, learned over the course of 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.

Like many backpackers—maybe like you—when I first started taking multi-day hikes, I packed gear based on what I believed I needed to take; I didn’t think about how much weight was going into my pack. (The lightest gear was also beyond my budget then, and I hadn’t yet learned the tricks for getting higher-quality gear cheap).

In other words: My entire thought process was framed around thinking about what to bring, instead of thinking about only taking what I absolutely needed. That’s important because the first approach increases weight, and the second approach reduces it.

My evolution toward a lighter and lighter pack was driven by comfort, but also emerged from a gradual rethinking about why I’m out there: It’s not about having stuff. It’s about experiencing a place.


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.


If you want to go truly ultralight, that often involves creating a fixed or only slightly flexible gear list and establishing a weight limit (typically 15 pounds or less base pack weight, not including water and food). I’ve taken that approach on longer treks like the John Muir Trail, and it made those trips more enjoyable.

But lightening your pack doesn’t have to require strict rules or limits. I don’t embrace extreme measures. I don’t live in one pair of socks (nor do I ever carry more than three pairs) or make my own gear. I won’t sleep only on a wafer-thin foam pad, because the energy saved through reducing my pack’s weight by ounces would be eclipsed by the energy sacrificed to sleep loss. I don’t forego some optional gear that I choose to carry (like my DSLR camera and two lenses, because of my work ).

Get the right backpack for your trips. See my picks for “The 10 Best Backpacking Packs
and the best ultralight backpacks.

I prefer to follow a set of guidelines and customize my gear for each trip’s circumstances (including who I’m with and how far I’m walking each day). My pack’s weight varies from trip to trip—in one place I may use a tarp and a 30° F bag, in another a tent and a 20° F bag. I don’t aim for having the absolute lightest pack on the trail, but I scrutinize everything, trying to make my load as light as possible.

That guiding principal has completely changed my on-trail experience and how I go about planning a hike.

Whether your goal is going truly ultralight, or simply making your trips more comfortable by lightening your pack significantly, the tips that follow will help you realize significant weight savings. And that just might revolutionize your backpacking experience.

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.

Why Lighten Up?

I started out backpacking with the conviction that more stuff made you safer and more comfortable. Carrying 50 pounds or more enough times persuaded me to question that assumption—but gradually seeing that I didn’t really need all that stuff convinced me that assumption was wrong. I’m now convinced a heavy pack is often a major factor in backcountry injuries and accidents, particularly common ones like blisters, sprains, strains, and falls.

There are many reasons for lightening your load, among them:

  • You want to hike farther each day.
  • Your knees or back have begun bothering you and you want to continue backpacking without suffering.
  • You’re already carrying most of the gear and food for your young kids who can’t carry much weight yet.
  • You’re carrying climbing gear for a multi-day trip.
  • You simply want to avoid carrying a painfully oversized pack.

Certainly, if you plan to attempt a major thru-hike on any long trail like the JMT (which I can help you plan—click here to find out how), your chances of success will hinge more on your pack weight than on weather or your fitness level on day one.

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Hiking with a lighter pack lets most people walk a little faster and farther. I like seeing as much of a place as I can within the time I have. Ultralight backpacking enables me to walk farther, in the same amount of time, without using more energy than when I carried a heavier pack. I’ve done for myself what the auto industry did by making cars lighter: I’ve increased my miles per per unit of energy burned.

That said, ultralight backpacking is not necessarily synonymous with ultra-long days (sometimes called “fastpacking”). However far you want to hike each day, or your body is capable of going, your enjoyment of every step along the way will correlate directly with how many pounds are on your back.

A backpacker hiking past Marie Lake on the John Muir Trail.
Mark Fenton backpacking past Marie Lake on the John Muir Trail.

The Big Picture

Making decisions that determine your pack weight begins with knowing what your destination may throw at you. Know the climate for that time of year and the weather forecast. Know how much water will be available. Find out what you can about the difficulty of the trails you’ll hike, the number and difficulty of any river fords, or anything else that can slow you down.

Then digest this information with a chaser of perspective. In many mountain ranges, you’ll be told that snow can fall even in August. But in reality, if you’re heading into New Hampshire’s White Mountains for four days with a forecast of 75° F highs and lows around 50, you’d roast in a 15° F bag.

On the other hand, if I’m heading out for a week in Glacier National Park in late August or September—knowing that the weather forecast loses reliability over that length of time and across such a large area of high mountains—I’ll carry a three-season puffy jacket (as opposed to lighter summer insulation) and long underwear, and wear boots that will keep my feet warm and dry if it does snow. That buffer of insulation might enable me to still use a light, summer-rated bag—but I may instead consider a 15- or 20-degree bag worth the extra ounces.

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Trimming pack weight smartly has to be part of a complete strategy for a trip. If I’m planning to hike 15 or 20 miles a day and want to plan food for, say, five days, I need a high degree of confidence that every one of my companions and I are capable of walking that far in the terrain we’ll encounter.

Any number of factors could drastically reduce your daily mileage, including:

See also my stories “5 Smart Steps to Lightening Up Your Backpacking Gear Kit” and “The Best Ultralight Backpacks.”

Tell me what you think.

I spent a lot of time writing this story, so if you enjoyed it, please consider giving it a share using one of the buttons at right, and leave a comment or question at the bottom of this story. I’d really appreciate it.

 

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Heavy Lifting: Backpacking Sequoia National Park https://thebigoutsideblog.com/heavy-lifting-backpacking-sequoia-national-park/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/heavy-lifting-backpacking-sequoia-national-park/#comments Mon, 22 Apr 2019 09:00:38 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=9502 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

I stare at the backpack on the ground in front of me. At 85 liters, with every milliliter of it stuffed with about 60 pounds of gear and food, it looks like something that should be lowered by a crane into a container ship rather than attached to a person’s back. If it had legs, teeth, and an appetite for meat, I wouldn’t stand a chance.

In fact, standing at the Sawtooth Pass Trailhead at 7,820 feet in Sequoia National Park, looking up at our imminent ascent to 9,511-foot Timber Gap, I’m thinking the chances that I’ll have an easy time of it are very, very slim. Probably like most parents, before I became a dad I had absolutely no idea how much heavy lifting was involved.

With no small amount of dread, I heft my pack onto one bent knee, slip an arm through a shoulder strap and turn myself until the pack rests heavily on my back. Then I straighten up, feeling like I’ve already surrendered points at the outset of a wrestling match against a formidable opponent. This backpack and I are fated to spend a lot of intimate time together over the next six days.

And of course, this is all my doing.

I wanted to take my kids on their longest backpacking trip to date. I knew they were ready for it, and I liked the idea of exposing them to the shift in mindset that occurs after you’ve been on the trail for more than a few days. But our son, Nate, 12, and our daughter, Alex, 10, still do not carry their full share of gear and food. So I figured our limit was six days. But even with the lightest tents and other gear, fitting some 50 pounds of food inside two adult backpacks required some aggressive shoehorning. My wife, Penny, is carrying the heaviest load she has shouldered in years, and Nate eagerly accepted more than he’s ever carried, including our necessary third bear canister. Still, much of that 50 pounds of food ended up in my pack.

I’ve also been eager to backpack with my family in Sequoia, in the southern High Sierra, home to many of the highest mountains and 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 laying open on the lake bottom. Hearing about our plans for a nearly 40-mile loop from the park’s Mineral King area, Penny’s brother, Tom, and his 18-year-old son, Daniel, decided to join us.

 

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While I’ve thru-hiked the John Muir Trail through this part of the Sierra and explored other corners of it—including a rugged, partly off-trail, 32-mile hike in the John Muir Wilderness—this would be my first deep foray into the backcountry of Sequoia, our second national park (designated 18 years after Yellowstone and a week before Yosemite, although the latter had been protected in 1864 as a public trust of California).

With my burly pack compressing my middle-aged spine, we start hiking at mid-morning in classic High Sierra weather: beneath a cloudless, blue sky, with the temperature in the low 60s and a breeze that’s very possibly saving me from heat exhaustion as we plod up through dozens of switchbacks on a sunbaked mountainside. Still, even in these pleasant conditions, within minutes, sweat pours from my head like a fountain.

Redwood Meadow Grove and Bearpaw Meadow

“I just startled a black bear about a quarter-mile back down the trail,” a backpacker tells us.

It’s late afternoon on our first day, and we’ve pitched tents in a spacious campsite in the forest by Cliff Creek, north of Timber Gap. The backpacker, just passing through, saw the bear on the trail we’ll hike tomorrow morning. It reminds me of what the ranger at the Mineral King ranger station told us when we picked up our permit this morning: This past winter saw the lowest snowfall in recorded history in Sequoia National Park, one fallout of which was less natural food sources for bears this summer—making them particularly aggressive in their pursuit of human food. It’s also a reminder of how climate change is affecting our parks. “Be extra careful,” the ranger had said.

In the afternoon sun, we boys take a bracing dip in pools in fast-flowing and frigid Cliff Creek. After dinner, all six of us play a long match of our new, favorite card game, Wizard. Although everyone’s tired, much yelling and laughing ensues—my family takes games very seriously. As we hit the trail the next morning, Nate and Penny passionately debate hands from last night’s Wizard game.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside, which has made several top outdoors blog lists. 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 to learn how I can help you plan your next trip. Please follow my adventures on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and Youtube.


On our second day, we enter one of the highlights of backpacking in this park: a backcountry grove of giant sequoia trees at Redwood Meadow Grove. We had visited the Giant Forest in the park the day before starting out on this backpacking trip, and it’s majestic—but almost as busy as a shopping mall. Now, as the only people out here, we feel like the Lilliputians in Gulliver’s Travels. Trees stand too tall for us to see their crowns, with trunks so big around that all six of us could not link arms around some of them, and branches as thick as the base of a Douglas fir. In the heart of Redwood Meadow Grove, we stop for lunch at the unoccupied ranger station, lounging in an eclectic variety of old, outdoor chairs left outside the log building.

That evening, another mild and clear one, we pitch our tents without rainflies in the forest of the backpackers camp just below Bearpaw Meadow. Then we walk the short distance to the rocky ledges of the meadow, high above the Middle Fork Kaweah River, to watch the sunset turn the peaks of the Great Western Divide to gold.

 

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

 

Hamilton Lakes, Precipice Lake

On a trail contouring across the face of a cliff, hundreds of feet above the deep Middle Fork Kaweah River, Alex points at a smooth, waterslide-like groove in the granite across the canyon, where sheer granite walls and spires stab at a cerulean sky. She says to me, “A glacier used to be right there?” I tell her that’s right.

It’s our third morning, and we’re facing our biggest climb of the trip: more than 3,000 feet, spread over 6.4 miles, to 10,700-foot Kaweah Gap. It’s warm but there’s a nice breeze. Most significantly for me, my pack has gotten much lighter—a major relief. My family consumes an impressive volume of food every day, and since I’m carrying much of it, my pack sheds several pounds daily.

By midday, under a hot sun, we reach the largest of the Hamilton Lakes, at 8,235 feet. Everyone needs a break. I start filtering several liters of water while Penny and Tom dig out lunch food and the kids head for the water; before long, we adults join them for a swim. The lake is almost completely enclosed by towering, impassable cliffs and pinnacles, except on its north side, where the High Sierra Trail zigzags up through steep ledges en route to Kaweah Gap—still 2,500 feet above us. [Note: Hamilton Lakes made my list of nicest backcountry campsites I’ve walked past.]

Time for a better backpack? See my picks for “The 10 Best Backpacking Packs
and the best ultralight/thru-hiking packs.

A bit after 5 p.m., I walk up to the rocky shore of small, oval-shaped Precipice Lake, still 30 minutes below Kaweah Gap. At 10,400 feet, with the nearest tree at least a couple of trail miles below us, the lake’s glassy, green and blue waters sit in a granite bowl, reflecting a white and golden cliff with black water streaks on the opposite shore. A ribbon-like waterfall, originating in a remnant glacier below the north face of 12,040-foot Eagle Scout Peak, pours at least 100 feet down the cliff. I unconsciously mutter, “Wow!” Standing beside me, Tom, who’s backpacked in some spectacular parts of the High Sierra, says, “Yea. Incredible spot.” [Note: Precipice Lake made my list of 25 all-time favorite backcountry campsites.]

Nate had been saying for at least an hour coming up the trail that he would take a swim in Precipice Lake, “although it’s probably going to be pretty frigid.” As we all congregate at the shoreline, he keeps his vow, plunging into the icy waters; then Daniel and I join him. Before long, we reach a unanimous consensus to spend the night here instead of continuing over Kaweah Gap and camping in the Nine Lakes Basin on the other side.

A steady wind rakes the campsite, but it’s beautiful up here. We have a view back down this high valley to the Hamilton Lakes and the row of granite monoliths rising across the valley. High above Precipice Lake, scores of slender spires line up atop a long ridge of Eagle Scout Peak.

While Tom and Daniel and Penny and Alex find flat spots on ledges above the lake for their tents, Nate and I decide to sleep under the stars. We lay our pads and bags out on a flat slab big enough for both of us. Long after dark, the two of us lie in our bags looking up at a sky shot full of stars above the dark silhouettes of peaks.

I can help you plan the best backpacking, hiking, or family adventure of your life. Find out more here.

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Video: Thru-Hiking the John Muir Trail https://thebigoutsideblog.com/video-thru-hiking-the-john-muir-trail/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/video-thru-hiking-the-john-muir-trail/#comments Thu, 03 Jan 2019 10:00:52 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=11483 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Will 2019 be the year that you hike the John Muir Trail? While next summer may seem very far off, an ambitious undertaking like a thru-hike of “America’s most beautiful trail”—more than 220 miles and anywhere from under two weeks to over three weeks—requires significant advance planning, and the time period for applying for a permit for it is coming up soon. Take your first step on that adventure right now by watching this video from my thru-hike of the JMT, and then click the link below to my story about that great trip, with my tips on how to do it right. Plus, read on to see how I can give you the best expert advice you’ll find to planning a JMT thru-hike.

Calling the JMT “America’s most beautiful trail” can sound hyperbolic, given the competition in places like Grand Canyon and Glacier national parks, southern Utah, and even elsewhere in California’s High Sierra.

But the description has stuck hard to the John Muir Trail for many years, nonetheless—and it’s hard to argue against the claim.

 

Want to hike the John Muir Trail? Click here for expert, detailed advice you won’t get elsewhere.

 


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside, which has made several top outdoors blog lists. Click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter. Subscribe now to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Please follow my adventures on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and Youtube.

 


 

Meandering 211 miles from Yosemite National Park to the summit of Mount Whitney (where you then face an 11-mile descent to finish the trip), it crosses a landscape dappled with thousands of lakes, and mountain passes over 13,000 feet high (like Trail Crest on Mount Whitney, in the photo above) below peaks soaring to 14,000 feet. Sheer granite cliffs loom everywhere, and roaring waterfalls are too numerous to even all have names. The JMT passes through contiguous, pristine wilderness in three national parks—Yosemite, Kings Canyon, and Sequoia—and two federal wilderness areas, the John Muir and Ansel Adams.

I’ve backpacked all over the U.S., and I still consider the JMT one of “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips.” I think you’ll see why in this video. After watching it, scroll down to the link to my story about that trip.

 

Get the right backpack for a hike like the JMT. See my picks for “The 10 Best Backpacking Packs
and the best thru-hiking packs.

 

Wondering whether you are up to it? Read my story about my thru-hike, where you can view lots of photos and read some of my tips on planning this adventure of a lifetime yourself.

 

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

 

The JMT has grown enormously popular, making it increasingly difficult to get a permit for a thru-hike, and the time period for applying is coming up soon. See my “10 Tips For Getting a Hard-to-Get National Park Backcountry Permit.” Find more info at nps.gov/yose/planyourvisit/jmtfaq.htm.

If you can’t get a permit for a JMT thru-hike or just don’t have the time next year, find some shorter, comparable backpacking trips by scrolling down to Yosemite and Sequoia at my All Trips Listed By State page at The Big Outside, or get my detailed, expert advice on backpacking in Yosemite in my downloadable e-guides to three amazing multi-day hikes there.

 

Tell me what you think.

I spent a lot of time writing this story, so if you enjoyed it, please consider giving it a share using one of the buttons below, and leave a comment or question at the bottom of this story. I’d really appreciate it.

 

Visit my Youtube page, where you’ll find many more videos from other great trips I’ve written about here at The Big Outside. You may find some ideas for your next big adventure. You can also scroll through menus at my Trips page of all of my stories at The Big Outside.

 

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Photo Gallery: California’s National Parks https://thebigoutsideblog.com/photo-gallery-californias-national-parks/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/photo-gallery-californias-national-parks/#respond Thu, 25 Aug 2016 10:00:23 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=20189 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Examine the wealth of natural places protected within our 59 national parks, and you’ll quickly see that no state has more than California’s nine (more even than Alaska’s eight). And arguably, no state has a greater diversity of parks than the Golden State, from desert to snowy mountains, giant sequoias and redwoods to rocky islands, the highest peak in the Lower 48 to the lowest and hottest patch of scorched earth. The list includes some of our most iconic and beloved parks and some of the least-known, least-crowded, and most mysterious: Channel Islands. Death Valley. Joshua Tree. Kings Canyon. Lassen Volcanic. Pinnacles. Redwood. Sequoia. Yosemite.

Doesn’t that list make you want to start planning a trip right now?

How many lifetimes would it take to really explore all of California’s national parks? I’m confident the answer is one, and I’m two-thirds of the way there and working hard on my list. See the gallery below of photos from five of California’s nine national parks, and I think you’ll discover some inspiration and ideas for your next adventure.

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See a menu of all of my stories about adventures in national parks in the Golden State, or scroll down to California on my All Trips By State page. Or click on the name of any California park in the list below for stories about it that I’ve posted at The Big Outside:

Death Valley National Park
Joshua Tree National Park
Kings Canyon National Park
Sequoia National Park
Yosemite National Park

See also my stories “The 10 Best Dayhikes in Yosemite,” “Best of Yosemite, Part 1: Backpacking South of Tuolumne Meadows,” “Heavy Lifting: Backpacking Sequoia National Park,” my feature story about thru-hiking the John Muir Trail, and “Roof of the High Sierra: A Father-Son Climb of California’s Mount Whitney.

Read about my National Outdoor Book Award-winning book, Before They’re Gone—A Family’s Quest to Explore America’s Most Endangered National Parks, which chronicles the year my family spent taking wilderness adventures in 11 parks threatened by climate change.

Do you like The Big Outside? I’m Michael Lanza, the creator of The Big Outside, recognized as a top outdoors blog by a USA Today Readers Choice poll and others. Subscribe for updates about new stories and free gear giveaways by entering your email address in the box at the bottom of this story or in the left sidebar, and follow my adventures on Facebook and Twitter.

This blog and website is my full-time job and I rely on the support of readers. If you like what you see here, please help me continue producing The Big Outside by making a donation using the Support button in the left sidebar or below. Thank you for your support.

 

Precipice Lake, Sequoia National Park. Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne River, Yosemite National Park. Surprise Canyon, Death Valley National Park. Clouds Rest, Yosemite National Park. Wonderland of Rocks, Joshua Tree National Park. Cholla Cactus Garden, Joshua Tree National Park. Half Dome, Yosemite National Park. Telescope Peak, Death Valley National Park. A young girl amid giant sequoias in Redwood Meadow Grove, Sequoia National Park. Climber on Sail Away, Joshua Tree National Park. Lake Marjorie, along the John Muir Trail in Kings Canyon National Park.

 

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Photo Gallery: Celebrating the National Park Service Centennial https://thebigoutsideblog.com/photo-gallery-celebrating-the-centennial-year-of-the-national-park-service/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/photo-gallery-celebrating-the-centennial-year-of-the-national-park-service/#comments Mon, 22 Aug 2016 10:00:04 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=17234 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

When the National Park Service turns 100 on Aug. 25, it will mark not just the diamond anniversary of what writer and historian Wallace Stegner famously called “the best idea we ever had”—it marks the evolution and growth of that idea from a handful of parks created in the early days to a system in many ways without parallel, that protects 52 million acres of mountain ranges, canyons, rivers, deserts, prairies, caves, islands, bays, fjords, badlands, natural arches, and seashores in 59 parks. Without that protection, these places that draw visitors from around the world would otherwise almost certainly have been exploited and destroyed.

After the designation of Yellowstone in 1872 (lead photo, above) as the world’s first national park, several more followed before the NPS was born in 1916, many of them now legendary names: Sequoia, Yosemite, Mount Rainier, Crater Lake, Glacier, Haleakalā, Hawaii Volcanoes, Wind Cave, Lassen Volcanic, Mesa Verde, Rocky Mountain. During the same time period, President Theodore Roosevelt proclaimed 18 national monuments (a number exceeded by only one president, Barack Obama, who has designated 19 monuments), many of which later became national parks, including Grand Canyon and Olympic.

The Big Outside is proud to partner with these sponsors. Please help support my blog by liking and following my sponsors on Facebook and other social media and telling them you appreciate their support for The Big Outside.

 

 

 

Throughout 2016, The Big Outside is featuring numerous stories about national parks to celebrate the National Park Service centennial, including the photo gallery below of images from nearly all of the national parks I’ve visited (close to half of the 59, so I have more work to do), and some NPS-managed national monuments.

Read more about the Park Service’s history and how you can join its centennial celebration at nps.gov/subjects/centennial. Find a national park and more information about the NPS at nps.gov/findapark.

See the All National Parks Trips page for a menu of all stories about national parks adventures at The Big Outside, or click on the name of any park in the list below of some of my favorites for stories I’ve posted at this blog about that park.

Canyonlands National Park
Everglades National Park
Glacier National Park
Glacier Bay National Park
Grand Canyon National Park
Grand Teton National Park
Mount Rainier National Park
North Cascades National Park
Olympic National Park
Rocky Mountain National Park
Sequoia National Park
Yellowstone National Park
Yosemite National Park
Zion National Park

Click directly to these stories for ideas for your next trip:

Photo Gallery: 10 Amazing National Park Adventures (and How to Pull Them Off)
5 Classic (Age-Appropriate) National Park Adventures For Families
Photo Gallery: 11 National Parks, One Year
10 Tips For Getting a Hard-to-Get National Park Backcountry Permit

Read about my National Outdoor Book Award-winning book, Before They’re Gone—A Family’s Quest to Explore America’s Most Endangered National Parks, which chronicles the year my family spent taking wilderness adventures in 11 parks threatened by climate change.

Do you like The Big Outside? I’m Michael Lanza, the creator of The Big Outside, recognized as a top outdoors blog by a USA Today Readers Choice poll and others. Subscribe for updates about new stories and free gear giveaways by entering your email address in the box at the bottom of this story or in the left sidebar, and follow my adventures on Facebook and Twitter.

This blog and website is my full-time job and I rely on the support of readers. If you like what you see here, please help me continue producing The Big Outside by making a donation using the Support button at the top of the left sidebar or below. Thank you for your support.









 

Lower Yellowstone Falls, Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone River. Teton Crest Trail, Grand Teton National Park. General Sherman Tree, Sequoia National Park. Royal Arch Loop, Grand Canyon National Park. Angels Landing, Zion National Park. Wonderland of Rocks, Joshua Tree National Park. Big Springs in The Narrows, Zion National Park. Along the Tonto Trail at Horn Creek in Grand Canyon National Park. Chesler Park, Needles District, Canyonlands National Park. A hiker below Skyline Arch in Arches National Park. Taylor Creek Trail, Zion National Park. Clouds Rest, Yosemite National Park. View from near Sunrise Point, Bryce Canyon National Park. High Sierra Trail, Sequoia National Park. Near Fruita Overlook, Capitol Reef National Park. Rock climber atop The Incisor, City of Rocks National Reserve. Phelps Lake, Grand Teton National Park. Sol Duc Falls, Olympic National Park. North Crater Trail, Craters of the Moon National Monument. A great egret in Everglades National Park. Mountain goat along Gunsight Pass Trail, Glacier National Park. Emmons Glacier, Mount Rainier National Park. Lamplugh Glacier, Glacier Bay National Park. The Subway, Zion National Park. Glenns Lake, Glacier National Park. Above the Green River, Canyonlands National Park. Southern Olympic coast, Olympic National Park. Great Sand Dunes National Park. North Kaibab Trail, Grand Canyon National Park. Sahale Glacier, North Cascades National Park. Midway Geyser Basin, Yellowstone National Park. Climbing Mount Whitney, Sequoia National Park. Surprise Canyon, Death Valley National Park.

 

 

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Ask Me: How to Load a Bear Canister Into a Backpack https://thebigoutsideblog.com/ask-me-how-to-load-a-bear-canister-into-a-backpack/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/ask-me-how-to-load-a-bear-canister-into-a-backpack/#respond Thu, 04 Aug 2016 10:00:22 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=20002 Read on

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Michael,

When carrying a bear canister, where and how would you place it in the pack? Toward the bottom above the sleeping bag? More toward the top of the pack just below the shoulderblades? Would you store it vertically and pack stuff around it, or just store horizontally across the pack? This is my first year going places that require a canister, and I can’t find an answer.

Rickard
[Originally submitted as a comment at my story “Video: How to Load a Backpack.”]

Backpacking the High Sierra Trail in Sequoia National Park.
Backpacking the High Sierra Trail in Sequoia National Park.

Hi Rickard,

Good question. Bear canisters are increasingly required in public lands from the High Sierra national parks and wilderness areas to Grand Teton National Park and Olympic National Park, and they can be very convenient even in backcountry areas where they’re not required, especially where you won’t easily find trees appropriate for hanging food. But a canister weighs about two-and-a-half pounds and takes up a significant portion of a backpack, so packing it smartly becomes paramount.

The answer depends on the size and primarily on the shape and dimensions of your pack. A large backpack (roughly 60 liters or bigger) is usually wide enough to lower the bear canister inside horizontally, which is the most efficient way to pack it because it spans the pack’s width. Some smaller packs (about 50 liters and under) are not wide enough, and then your only option is to insert the canister vertically and stuff items around it as well as you can. The one advantage of inserting it vertically is that the top of it will be near the top of your pack, so you can easily access snack or lunch food that’s in the canister. When I load it vertically, I leave the canister lid mostly unscrewed, so I can quickly pop it open without removing it from the pack and having to stuff it back in there again.

 

A black bear in Olympic National Park.
A black bear in Olympic National Park.

If you load the canister into your pack horizontally, place it roughly halfway down in the backpack, in the middle of your back—probably atop your sleeping bag, tent, and clothing stuff sack (which are items you probably won’t need to access during the day). If it’s horizontal, you’re probably not taking it out until you’re in camp, so it should contain only food that you don’t need to access during the day. (You don’t have to keep all of your food in the canister when you’re hiking.)

You’ll want to keep daytime/lunch/snack food outside the canister to have it handy, so keep in mind that the canister probably won’t actually be filled with food while you’re on the trail; there will be extra space inside it. I fill that extra canister space with other stuff, like my clothing stuff sack, rather than having a half-full canister.

 

A campsite at Lake Italy in the High Sierra's John Muir Wilderness.
A campsite at Lake Italy in the High Sierra’s John Muir Wilderness.

Most people find that canisters hold less food than they had expected or hoped, especially the first time you use one. Choose foods that are less bulky, like pita bread or tortillas instead of bagels, and high in calories for their weight and volume (examples: oatmeal, peanut butter, dried mangoes). Plan your trip’s food specifically down to each meal and each day, and load your canister before your trip to ensure all you’re bringing fits inside it—bearing in mind that there’s no need to fit your first day’s food in the canister.

By the way, I prefer the Bear Vault BV500 bear canister for its excellent space-to-weight ratio. See more about it in my review of my favorite backpacking accessories.

See all of my backpack reviews and backpacking gear reviews, my “5 Tips For Buying the Right Backpack,” and all of my stories about backpacking at The Big Outside.

Good luck.

Michael

 

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NOTE: I can help you plan the best backpacking, hiking, or family adventure of your life. Got a question about any trip, gear, or topic I write about at The Big Outside? Send it to me at michaelalanza79@gmail.com. For $40, I’ll answer your questions via email to help ensure your outdoor experience is a success. I will also provide a telephone consult for $50. Write to me and I will tell you whether I can answer your question (I usually can). First scroll through my Ask Me page and All Trips pageskills stories, and gear reviews for answers to your questions before writing to me.

Do you like The Big Outside? I’m Michael Lanza, the creator of The Big Outside, recognized as a top outdoors blog by a USA Today Readers Choice poll and others. Subscribe for updates about new stories and free gear giveaways by entering your email address in the box at the bottom of this story, at the top of the left sidebar, or on my About page, and follow my adventures on Facebook and Twitter.

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This blog and website is my full-time job and I rely on the support of readers. If you like what you see here, please help me continue producing The Big Outside by making a donation using the Support button at the top of the left sidebar or below. Thank you for your support.









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Ask Me: Backpacking in Sequoia National Park https://thebigoutsideblog.com/ask-me-backpacking-in-sequoia-national-park/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/ask-me-backpacking-in-sequoia-national-park/#respond Tue, 12 Jul 2016 10:00:54 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=19669 Read on

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Hello Michael.

While researching for a summer backpacking trip with my wife, I came across your excellent website for the first time. Thank you for setting such a high bar in quality images and narrative. My daughter is a writer and would appreciate your style. Two questions about your article on the 6-day, 38-mile Sequoia National Park loop: If you were hiking that loop without your children, would you have still been content with the daily mileage, or would you have done something different? (We are physically fit and 60, so we do have limitations.) Secondly, you mention the mosquito population. Our trip would have to be in that mid-to-late July timeframe. Do you know if most hikers experience such a thickness of mosquitos that the experience is negatively affected to a great extent?

My wife has dealt with that in the past while canoeing/portaging the Boundary Waters in MN. But it’s not something we would look forward to (I re-read the word “thick” several times…). I assume a bit of breeze will help, but wanted to get your thoughts, especially if we are there for a week during that timeframe.

Thanks so much for your informative and beautifully designed website. Great work!

Brian & Laurie
Concord, NH

 

Campsite at Precipice Lake, Sequoia National Park.
Campsite at Precipice Lake, Sequoia National Park.

Hi Brian and Laurie,

Thanks for the nice words about my blog, I’m glad you found it. I see you’re from my old stomping grounds, New Hampshire. I’ve logged many miles in the White Mountains (and I authored, for many years, a hiking guidebook to New England).

As you might have surmised from my photos from that backpacking trip in Sequoia, it was one of the most photogenic trips I’ve taken. Two of our campsites made my list of 25 all-time favorite backcountry campsites, and one lake where we stopped for lunch made my list of the best backcountry campsites I’ve hiked past. You’ll have a wonderful time.

To answer your questions:

My daughter, Alex, at Precipice Lake, Sequoia National Park.
My daughter, Alex, at Precipice Lake, Sequoia National Park.

When I hike without my family, I tend to hike much longer distances (i.e., often 20-mile days or farther), but I know that’s not for everyone. Bear in mind that this loop includes a handful of passes in the 9,000-foot to over 11,000-foot range, so that tends to affect your pace, as does the typically very hot afternoon sun at higher elevations in the High Sierra. But if you are in the habit of reasonably early starts hiking every day, I suggest you plan to hike as far each day as you have in other Western national parks, or even in the White Mountains, where the steepness and ruggedness impedes pace about as much as the elevation does in the Sierra.

The trails on this Sequoia loop are generally very good, with the conspicuous exception of the “route” (not a maintained trail at all) from Columbine Lake over Sawtooth Pass down to the Monarch Lakes; at Monarch Lakes, you’ll pick up a good, maintained trail back to the trailhead. There’s a decent user trail from Columbine Lake to Sawtooth Pass, but the descent from Sawtooth Pass to the Monarch Lakes has no good footpath that we found, and it’s steep and quite loose. My kids did fine, but we took it slowly. I would definitely not advise hiking the loop in the opposite direction, climbing from Monarch Lakes to Sawtooth Pass, especially with heavy backpacks.

As for mosquitoes, yes, the High Sierra is notorious for them being thick basically from late June or early July (depending on elevation) to mid- or late August, although they taper off in August. Mosquitoes are out during the several weeks when lakes are free of ice and nighttime temperatures consistently remain at least a few degrees above freezing. That’s generally true in almost any mid-latitude mountain range that has plenty of standing water (i.e., lakes). If you’ve seen the height of mosquito season in the Boundary Waters, that may be comparable to, or even worse than the worst few weeks of mosquitoes in the High Sierra, in July. I’ve had many trips with voracious mosquitoes and I’m sure I’ll have more, but I try to avoid them, especially when backpacking with my kids. I always tell people that late summer, mid-August to mid- or late September, is the best time to hike anywhere in the High Sierra—or in most mid-latitude mountains in the Northern Hemisphere, for that matter.

Do you like The Big Outside? I’m Michael Lanza, the creator of The Big Outside, recognized as a top outdoors blog by a USA Today Readers Choice poll and others. Subscribe for updates about new stories and free gear giveaways by entering your email address in the box at the bottom of this story, at the top of the left sidebar, or on my About page, and follow my adventures on Facebook and Twitter.

♦

This blog and website is my full-time job and I rely on the support of readers. If you like what you see here, please help me continue producing The Big Outside by making a donation using the Support button at the top of the left sidebar or below. Thank you for your support.









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Lower Little Five Lakes, Sequoia National Park.
Lower Little Five Lakes, Sequoia National Park.

That said, if late July is the only time you can go, I would still consider going. The mosquitoes are really only bad first thing in the morning and in the evening. If you camp above tree line and there’s a breeze, that helps considerably. You can always bring a head net for camp, wear pants and long sleeves, and in the mornings, either start hiking very early, before the mosquitoes are out, or linger in your tent until they’ve dissipated.

You might also be interested in my Ask Me post, “What Clothing Do You Recommend For August in the High Sierra?” And you may find some good, general tips about hiking and backpacking anywhere in the High Sierra by seeing my stories about the John Muir Trail and Yosemite National Park.

See also my stories:

My Top 10 Favorite Backpacking Trips
The Simple Equation of Ultralight Backpacking: Less Weight = More Fun
10 Tips For Getting a Hard-to-Get National Park Backcountry Permit
10 Tips For Making Hiking and Backpacking Easier

I hope that’s helpful. Thanks for writing. Good luck. Let me know how it goes for you.

Best,
Michael

Michael,

Thank you for such a prompt and extremely thoughtful reply. This is very helpful. The trip you took is enticing.

Brian

 

I can help you plan the best backpacking, hiking, or family adventure of your life.

Got a question about hiking, backpacking, planning a family adventure, or any trip I’ve written about at The Big Outside? Email it to me at info@thebigoutsideblog.com. For just $75, I’ll answer your questions via email or in a phone call to help ensure your trip is a success. See my Ask Me page.

—Michael Lanza

 

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Roof of the High Sierra: A Father-Son Climb of Mount Whitney https://thebigoutsideblog.com/roof-of-the-high-sierra-a-father-son-climb-of-californias-mount-whitney/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/roof-of-the-high-sierra-a-father-son-climb-of-californias-mount-whitney/#comments Tue, 31 May 2016 14:15:35 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=19124 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

On the long, uphill hike toward the highest mountain in the contiguous United States, in the middle of April, the alpine sun and wind behave like a couple married for far too long, who take their frequent disagreements to extremes that make everyone else uncomfortable. The sun offers us a hug of much-needed warmth one moment, only to later leave us wilting in its inescapable, unrestrained heat. The wind arrives at times precisely when we crave its relief from the sun’s thermal oppression, and at other times entirely unwelcome, an icicle knifing into bone. We alternately wish for and desperately try to avoid both of them.

But at this moment, somewhere well over 11,000 feet above sea level on the east side of California’s 14,505-foot Mount Whitney, the wind is definitely not our friend. And the sun seems willfully deaf to our silent pleas to show us a little more love.

I shoot a glance at my son, Nate, 15, who has the body mass index of a legal-size envelope. Layered up in a shell jacket over a fleece, a warm hat, gloves, and soft-shell pants, he’s pacing a small, circular trough into the snow, trying to warm himself and not entirely succeeding. I can also feel the wind starting to thicken my marrow, and the body language of our companions communicates that most of them feel the same. We’ve been standing still for only a matter of minutes, on a short snack-and-drink break. Now, as we’ve done most of this day just to stay warm, we need to get moving again.


Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, creator of The Big Outside, which has made several top outdoors blog lists. 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 to learn how I can help you plan your next trip. Please follow my adventures on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and Youtube.


 

It’s the second morning of our four-day ascent of Mount Whitney. Tomorrow, we hope to climb Whitney’s Mountaineers Route to the summit, armed with ice axes, crampons, enthusiasm, and if all goes well, an adequate degree of acclimation to elevations that most of us rarely encounter. In fact, our high camp at 12,000 feet, which we’ll reach within an hour, will be higher than several people in our group have ever been, including Nate. And from there it’s another 2,500 feet to the summit, where reduced air pressure has an effect similar to cutting the amount of oxygen in the atmosphere nearly in half compared to sea level.

I’m sure everyone’s wondering whether they will stand on that summit tomorrow. But I’m thinking mostly about Nate, and flashing back in my mind through the long chain of moments, reaching back many years, that have brought us to this spot here today, and the deceptively slow but persistent pace of time that has transformed my little boy into a young man.

Hiking the Mount Whitney Trail. Scrambling the ledges on the Mountaineers Route, Mount Whitney. Scrambling up the ledges. Scrambling up the ledges. Scrambling up the ledges. North Fork Lone Pine Creek Trail. North Fork Lone Pine Creek. North Fork Lone Pine Creek. First campsite at 10,300 feet below Mount Whitney. View of Mount Whitney from first camp. First campsite at 10,300 feet.

Big City Mountaineers

Nate and I are in the John Muir Wilderness, in California’s Eastern Sierra, with eight other people whom we met in person only within the past two days. They include our three mountain guides from Sierra Mountaineering International, Tristan Sieleman, 38, Lindsay Fixmer, 35, and Trevor Anthes, 40. Tristan and Lindsay are affable joke-tellers who clearly delight in leading people on adventures in the mountains. They remind me of young musicians just starting to make it big: They appear to be genuinely enjoying themselves. Trevor is quieter, choosing his words carefully; but when he does say something, it comes from a deep knowledge base about how to travel safely through the mountains.

The other five members of our party are readers of this blog who signed up to join Nate and me on this climb, which we’re doing as a fundraiser for a fantastic organization called Big City Mountaineers that introduces urban teens to the wilderness.

Since 1989, BCM has been providing wilderness-mentoring experiences to underprivileged urban youths. Every year, BCM partners with youth-development agencies and professional field instructors to take hundreds of teenagers on a weeklong expedition that includes a five-day wilderness backpacking or canoe trip. This year, upwards of 800 kids age 13 to 18 will participate in a BCM program, increasing the likelihood of these kids staying in school and not getting involved in violence or drugs.

First campsite at 10,300 feet below Mount Whitney.
First campsite at 10,300 feet below Mount Whitney.

After I announced plans for this climb at this blog last fall, five readers of The Big Outside signed up for it, all telling me that it represents not only an opportunity to challenge themselves personally, but they were also drawn to the goal of raising money to help get more kids outdoors. Collectively, we raised more than $25,000 for BCM.

Molly Baab, 40, who works for an e-commerce site and lives outside of Boston, is an avid rock and ice climber who met her husband through climbing; they now have a five-year-old daughter and are introducing her to the outdoors. Molly turned 40 last year, and promised herself she would climb a big mountain to celebrate. When I announced this Whitney climb, she told me, “I went from unsure about it to signed up in 10 minutes.”

Tim Brosnan, 56, of Annandale, N.J., a senior vice president with an international risk-management firm, has hiked throughout the Northeast, in parts of the West, and in Spain and Nepal. He speaks fondly of his wife and three grown children, and told me this climb gives him a chance to “do something to improve the lives of kids who haven’t been as lucky as we have.”

For Nick Ornella, 31, a pharmacist from Cincinnati, tall and lean with an easy smile, this is his first major mountain climb; he has mostly day hiked and car camped and once backpacked 73 miles on the Appalachian Trail through Great Smoky Mountains National Park.

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John Kelly, 66, a retiree from Maple Ridge, B.C., who hasn’t retired from adventure, has backpacked for decades and walked Spain’s Camino de Santiago and the Snowman Trek in Bhutan, one of the world’s highest and most challenging treks, crossing nine passes over 4500 meters (15,850 feet) in elevation.

Frank Weber, 39, of Hardeeville, S.C., whose frequent laugh carries across the campsite, is an Arizona native and avid backpacker. He and his wife have taken their three young kids on numerous outdoor adventures “since before they could crawl,” he told me, and “we have watched them flourish in the outdoors, which has solidified for us the importance of unplugging children from our hyper-connected world to let them experience nature.”

We’d all agree with Frank on that point.

Second day hiking to high camp. Guide Lindsay Fixmer, second day hiking to high camp. Second day hiking to high camp. Me below Mount Whitney. Nate below Mount Whitney's East Face and needles. High camp at 12,000 feet below Mount Whitney. John Kelly below Whitney's East Face on summit day. Nate, me, below Whitney's East Face on summit day. High camp at 12,000 feet below Mount Whitney.

Camping at 12,000 Feet

When the wind becomes too much, we resume lumbering uphill, carrying 40-pound backpacks stuffed with camping and climbing gear, food, water, and clothes—except for Nate, who’s carrying about 25 pounds, which is still one-quarter of his body weight, while I haul some of his gear and food. As we pass over a snowy crest, the full, daunting East Face of Mount Whitney and its neighboring spires come into view, canine teeth of sheer granite intruding upon altitudes usually the exclusive domain of clouds.

It’s the rare kind of scenery that forces you to stop in your tracks, unconsciously, because simultaneously walking and intellectually processing this view overloads the brain. I’ve hiked through some of the most beautiful places in America and around the world. Looking up at the East Face of Mount Whitney reminds me, perhaps more than anywhere else I’ve been, of the surreal towers of Patagonia’s Torres del Paine National Park.

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High camp at 12,000 feet below Mount Whitney.
Summit day morning in high camp at 12,000 feet below Mount Whitney.

More than three hours after leaving our first camp at 10,300 feet near Lower Boy Scout Lake—where we awoke this morning to find ice in our water bottles—we stroll onto a broad, snow-covered, flat area below the East Face: our high camp at 12,000 feet, more than two vertical miles above sea level. It’s afternoon, the wind has mostly died down, and there’s not a speck of shade in sight. With no escape from the direct sun reflecting off snow, it feels like we’re slowly boiling in a cauldron of dry air.

Standing around in T-shirts a couple hours after we had shivered, everyone steals long gazes up at Mount Whitney, highest point of land between Maine’s forehead and California’s tail, looming 2,500 severely vertical feet above us—comparable to the relief of the famous face of Yosemite’s Half Dome, but nearly 4,000 feet higher in elevation. We’ve hiked for two days to reach this spot, and still, the summit looks very far away.

When the sun drops behind a notch in the row of spires beside Whitney, the temperature plummets like a ball rolling off a table.

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

 

Early morning, summit day. Below the East Face of Mount Whitney on summit day. Dawn light on Mount Whitney's East Face. Below the East Face of Mount Whitney. Below the East Face of Mount Whitney. Below the East Face of Mount Whitney. Below the Mountaineers Route, Mount Whitney. Mountaineers Route, Mount Whitney. Guide Tristan Sieleman, Mountaineers Route, Mount Whitney. Mountaineers Route, Mount Whitney. The Notch, Mountaineers Route, Mount Whitney.

Trying to Raise a Kid Outdoors

Almost nine years ago, when Nate was a 40-pound six-year-old carrying a stuffed dolphin named Flipper, he and I backpacked the 18-mile, Alice Lake-Toxaway Lake loop in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains, a rugged hike that goes over a 9,200-foot pass and has some of the prettiest mountain lakes in Idaho. It was actually our second “boy trip,” the name Nate gave back then—and that we still use today—to our annual father-son adventure (a tradition I’ve also established with my daughter). But it was our first real backcountry adventure.

That three-day hike doesn’t seem all that long ago to me, of course. But for Nate, those nine years represent more than half a lifetime of growing physically and gaining maturity.

We’ve since taken several boy trips, backpacking in the Sawtooths and the neighboring White Cloud Mountains and rock climbing at Idaho’s City of Rocks National Reserve and Castle Rocks State Park. Every year, I’ve picked an outing appropriate for his stamina and abilities, and each time, he has shown an enthusiasm that turns my heart to butter. My wife and I have taken the same approach on family adventures with both kids; and from sea kayaking in Alaska’s Glacier Bay to rappelling into slot canyons and hiking Mount St. Helens, they have always risen to each new challenge—not only delighting in the adventure, but taking visible pride in their ability to do something that they realize many people would never even attempt.

Nate below Mount Whitney's East Face.
Nate below Mount Whitney’s East Face.

In an age when most kids seem to have been surgically attached to their electronic devices, and rarely get outside to play the way their parents regularly did as children, I’ve found that family-driven outdoor activities are one of the primary ways that my kids connect with nature.

But climbing Mount Whitney may be the hardest adventure Nate and I have attempted together. For us to reach the summit, he has to acclimate to an elevation more than 3,000 feet higher than he’s ever stood. And he’ll have to do that on a rigorous summit day involving 2,500 feet of climbing snow, coming on the heels of two strenuous days of carrying a heavy backpack uphill. He’s never done this sort of climb before.

Nate has been doing everything one can do to prepare for climbing a big mountain, from training for the past four months at home to drinking water assiduously since the evening before we started hiking from the Mount Whitney Trailhead, at over 8,300 feet. Now, in our tent on our second evening, at 12,000 feet, he tells me, “I think I’m pretty well acclimated.”

I tell him I’m confident he can do this. But there’s really no way to be sure he’ll make it.

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

 

 

Mount Whitney’s Mountaineers Route

On summit day, Tristan wakes us a little while before the first light of day starts bleeding into the sky on the eastern horizon. But it’s surprisingly mild, several degrees above freezing, and clear and calm as we walk around camp by the light of headlamps, wolfing down a breakfast of oatmeal and hot drinks and getting into our clothing, mountain boots, harnesses, and crampons. Tim elects to enjoy a relaxing day in camp; he was feeling the elevation hard on our first two days, and has the maturity to accept his limits. Everyone else starts kicking steps in the frozen snow at 6 a.m., hiking toward the stunning wall of sheer granite pinnacles now glowing like gold nuggets in the dawn light.

Mount Whitney’s Mountaineers Route technically begins at the base of a 1,400-foot-tall gully that splits the mountain’s eastern flank right around the corner from the East Face. That’s where, a bit over an hour after leaving camp, we stop in warm sunshine and chilling gusts of wind—that troubled married couple arguing again—to tie together in rope teams. Varying from roughly the width of a five-lane highway to a country lane, the gully is filled with snow most of the year, pitched at an angle ranging from the steepness of a black diamond ski run to steeper than a double-black diamond. While this mountaineering route does not see anything approaching the thousands of hikers who walk to the summit—or try to—via the Mount Whitney Trail every summer, it does receive a steady stream of climbers from spring through fall. We’ll encounter several other parties today, including two skiers and a pair of rock climbers from Alaska who tell us ironically that they “were hoping for some warm rock climbing.”

When the wind dies down for periods of several minutes, we’ll heat up until another cold blast rips through the gully. “The weather’s actually perfect,” Tristan says to me during one short break, when we’ve stomped out personal platforms the width of our boots to stand on while we remove packs and grab drinks and snacks. “The wind blows just when you’re getting too hot,” he says.

Below the East Face of Mount Whitney on summit day.
Below the East Face of Mount Whitney on summit day.

About two hours after roping up, we scramble through bands of loose rocks and snow to reach the gully’s apex at a shoulder called The Notch. Then the Mountaineers Route makes a hairpin turn to enter a shorter but even steeper gully of snow and rock slabs rising for 400 feet. We step into the mountain’s shadow and blasts of wind that make it feel much colder even than the air temperature, which is probably below freezing. We move quickly, eager to get back into sunshine and out of this gully, where the threat of falling rock, inadvertently kicked loose by climbers above us, looms as a constant danger.

We reach the summit plateau, a wind-scoured, granite plain littered with rocks, and take the easy stroll to Whitney’s crown. At 10:30 a.m., four-and-a-half hours after leaving our camp, we all stand at the brink of cliffs falling away for thousands of feet to our campsite too far below to be seen. And we spin slowly around to absorb a view of scores of snowy High Sierra peaks, many rising to 13,000 and 14,000 feet, some in the John Muir Wilderness and others in Sequoia-Kings Canyon national parks, all of them lower than the rocks we’re standing on.

With little wind and the sun evenly balanced with the cold temps, we linger at the summit for 90 minutes, taking pictures and just quietly celebrating having reached the roof of the High Sierra.

The Mountaineers Route gully. Mountaineers Route upper gully. Reaching summit plateau, Mountaineers Route, Mount Whitney. Reaching summit plateau, Mountaineers Route, Mount Whitney. Summit of Mount Whitney. Nate and me on summit of Mount Whitney. Nate on summit of Mount Whitney. Descending off Mount Whitney. Descending off Mount Whitney. Nate on the descent back to high camp. High camp at 12,000 feet below Mount Whitney.

That evening, after we’ve all hung around outside talking and laughing until the dark and cold chased us to our tents, Nate tells me, “You know, this has been the best boy trip we’ve ever done, and it makes me excited to do bigger ones and climb more mountains like this.” I tell him I would love that.

And then Nate says, “Being out here just changes how time passes. I think about how I’m doing this right now and soon this will be over and I’ll be doing something else.”

Then my 15-year-old philosopher-son tells me, “Time is funny.”

Yes, I say to him, it sure is.

For information about Big City Mountaineers and its Summit For Someone program, through which you could take a guided climb of a variety of U.S. and international peaks while raising money to help BCM introduce young people to the outdoors, see bigcitymountaineers.org.

See all of my stories about adventures in California national parks and about family adventures, as well my very popular “10 Tips For Raising Outdoors-Loving Kids” and Boy Trip, Girl Trip: Why I Take Father-Son and Father-Daughter Adventures.”

Nate, me, John Kelly, Frank Weber, Nick Ornella, Molly Baab, Tim Brosnan, at high camp at 12,000 feet below Mount Whitney.
Nate, me, John Kelly, Frank Weber, Nick Ornella, Molly Baab, and Tim Brosnan.

Guides Sierra Mountaineering International, sierramountaineering.com.

Contact Eastern Sierra Interagency Visitor Center, Lone Pine, CA, (760) 876-6222, fs.usda.gov/recarea/inyo/recreation/recarea/?recid=20698.

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3-Minute Read: Climbing Mount Whitney https://thebigoutsideblog.com/3-minute-read-climbing-mount-whitney/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/3-minute-read-climbing-mount-whitney/#respond Mon, 25 Apr 2016 10:00:58 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=18593 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

At 6 a.m. last Sunday morning, four readers of The Big Outside, my 15-year-old son, Nate, and I, led by three mountain guides from Sierra Mountaineering International, left our high camp at 12,000 feet below the East Face of California’s Mount Whitney en route to climb the Mountaineers Route. I shot the photo above shortly after we left camp. Four-and-a-half hours later, we all stood at 14,505 feet above sea level, atop the highest peak in America outside of Alaska.

It was a proud accomplishment on several levels. Some in our group, Nate among them, climbed their first technical route up a major peak, which took us four days: a two-day approach hike to our high camp, summit day, and the last day’s descent to our cars. But my blog readers John Kelly, Frank Weber, Molly Baab, Nick Ornella, and Tim Brosnan all raised at least $4,000 each for Big City Mountaineers through BCM’s Summit For Someone program, as did Nate and I.

Since 1989, Big City Mountaineers has been providing wilderness-mentoring experiences to underprivileged urban youths. Every year, BCM partners with existing youth-development agencies and professional field instructors to take hundreds of kids age 13 to 18 into the wilderness. It’s a great cause that I believe in deeply, and I thank John, Frank, Molly, Nick, and Tim for their efforts. But the Summit For Someone program lets you have a great adventure at the same time you’re helping get more youths outdoors.

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From left: Nate, me, John Kelly, Frank Weber, Nick Ornella, Molly Baab, and Tim Brosnan at high camp below Mount Whitney.
From left: Nate, me, John Kelly, Frank Weber, Nick Ornella, Molly Baab, and Tim Brosnan at high camp below Mount Whitney.

I’ll write a feature story and post many more images from our four-day climb of Whitney soon at The Big Outside.

Meanwhile, see all of my stories about adventures in the High Sierra and in California, all of my stories about family adventures, and my story “Training For a Big Hike or Mountain Climb.”

Do you like The Big Outside? I’m Michael Lanza, the creator of The Big Outside, recognized as a top outdoors blog by USA Today, a Trip Advisor site, and others. Subscribe for updates about new stories and free gear giveaways by entering your email address in the box at the bottom of this story, at the top of the left sidebar, or on my About page, and follow my adventures on Facebook and Twitter.

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This blog and website is my full-time job and I rely on the support of readers. If you like what you see here, please help me continue producing The Big Outside by making a donation using the Support button at the top of the left sidebar or below. Thank you for your support.









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Photo Gallery: An 86-Mile Walk Through Yosemite https://thebigoutsideblog.com/photo-gallery-an-86-mile-walk-through-yosemite/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/photo-gallery-an-86-mile-walk-through-yosemite/#comments Mon, 15 Feb 2016 11:00:49 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=17588 Read on

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Matterhorn Canyon, Yosemite National Park.
Todd Arndt backpacking in Matterhorn Canyon, Yosemite National Park.

By Michael Lanza

For years, I had gazed longingly at my topographic maps of Yosemite, eyeballing the biggest and most remote swath of wilderness in this flagship national park: the vast realm of deep canyons and mountains rising to over 12,000 feet north of Tuolumne Meadows and Tioga Road, a region that includes the Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne River and a chunk of the Pacific Crest Trail. I had to explore it. So I finally decided it was time, mapped out an 86-mile hike, talked a friend into a four-day blitz, and we ticked off one of the most glorious backpacking trips of my life.

The gallery of photos below contains highlights from that September trip, which began in Tuolumne Meadows and ended at Tenaya Lake, via some eye-popping and surprisingly lonely corners like Matterhorn Canyon, Burro, Mule, Rock Island, and Seavey passes, and Benson Lake. A longtime backcountry ranger had told me that Benson Lake has the best backcountry beach in the park, and he’s right.

It was actually the second leg of a 151-mile, seven-day, grand tour of the two biggest pieces of wilderness in Yosemite. I’d visited Yosemite several times before taking those magnificent hikes—backpacking in the park’s core, including highlights like Half Dome and the John Muir Trail, and dayhiking and rock climbing—and I thought I’d had already seen the park’s best scenery and wilderness. I was wrong, as I think you’ll see in my photos and stories about that 151-mile tour of Yosemite.

I’ve already posted my story about the 65-mile, first leg of that Yosemite odyssey; see “Best of Yosemite, Part 1: Backpacking South of Tuolumne Meadows.” Later this year, I’ll post a feature-length story about our 86-mile trek in northern Yosemite at The Big Outside, with lots more photos, a video, and trip-planning information.

Meanwhile, see all of my stories about Yosemite National Park, my Ask Me posts about Yosemite, and my stories about California adventures, California national parks, and national park adventures at The Big Outside.

See also my ultralight backpacking tips and my “10 Tips For Getting a Hard-to-Get National Park Backcountry Permit,” “10 Tips For Making Hiking and Backpacking Easier,” and “7 Tips For Avoiding Blisters.”

The Big Outside is proud to partner with these sponsors. Please help support my blog by liking and following my sponsors on Facebook and other social media and telling them you appreciate their support for The Big Outside.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A backpacker hiking up Matterhorn Canyon in Yosemite National Park. Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne River. Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne River. Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne River. Atop Mount Hoffmann.

 

Wind4-016Did you enjoy this story? I’m Michael Lanza, the creator of The Big Outside, and I appreciate connecting with my readers. I invite you to subscribe to this blog by entering your email address in the box at the top of the left sidebar or on my About page, and follow my adventures on Facebook and Twitter.

This blog and website is my full-time job and I rely on the support of readers. If you like what you see here, please help me continue producing The Big Outside by making a donation using the Support button at the top of the left sidebar or below. Thank you for your support.









 

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Seven People, One Mountain, and Hundreds of Kids Getting Outdoors https://thebigoutsideblog.com/seven-people-one-mountain-and-hundreds-of-kids-getting-outdoors/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/seven-people-one-mountain-and-hundreds-of-kids-getting-outdoors/#comments Wed, 10 Feb 2016 11:00:25 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=17557 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

I first tied my son, Nate, into a climbing rope when he was four or five years old. As I stood next to him at the base of an easy rock climb in Idaho’s City of Rocks National Reserve, belaying him on a top-rope, he gazed up at the wall of granite rising more than 100 feet above him and started scrabbling upward. He got maybe six feet off the ground—I could still reach up and touch him—then stopped and asked me, “Is this as high as Mount Everest, Dad?” I said, “Yup, I’m pretty sure it is.” Satisfied with his accomplishment, he told me, “Okay, I’ll come down now.” And I lowered him back to the ground.

Today, that little boy is 15 years old and his rock climbing skills have improved significantly. He has also backpacked all over the West (lead photo, above, is of him and me in Idaho’s White Cloud Mountains), whitewater kayaked some of its great rivers, and enjoyed outdoor adventures from New Hampshire to California, Florida to Alaska. Now he wants to help teenagers who haven’t had the same opportunities as him get introduced to the kind of experiences he’s enjoyed for longer than he can remember. So Nate and I, joined by five readers of The Big Outside, will climb the highest peak in the Lower 48 to do just that.

 

Nate, at 11 months old, on one of his first backpacking trips in Wyoming's Bighorn Mountains.
Nate, at 11 months old, on an early backpacking trip in Wyoming’s Bighorn Mountains.

In mid-April, our seven-person climbing team will all meet for the first time in the little Eastern Sierra town of Lone Pine, California, with our guides from Sierra Mountaineering International. Over the next four days, we plan to backpack to a high camp at around 12,000 feet at the base of the east face of 14,505-foot Mount Whitney, in Sequoia National Park, and weather and snow conditions permitting, climb Whitney’s Mountaineers Route. It will be buried under several feet of snow, so we’ll use ropes, crampons, and ice axes to make the climb.

Whether we reach the summit or not, we will have already accomplished something far more important: Each member of our climbing team has committed to raising at least $4,000 for Big City Mountaineers through BCM’s Summit For Someone program—a great cause that all of us believe in strongly.

Since 1989, Big City Mountaineers has been providing wilderness-mentoring experiences to underprivileged urban youths. Every year, BCM partners with existing youth-development agencies and professional field instructors to take hundreds of kids age 13 to 18 into the wilderness. The core BCM program is a weeklong expedition that includes a five-day wilderness backpacking or canoe trip on which adults and teens work together in a unique, one-to-one ratio.

These are kids who lack the resources and opportunities to pursue experiences that families like mine are fortunate to enjoy frequently. The organization has an inspirational track record of increasing the likelihood of these kids staying in school and not getting involved in violence or drugs. BCM’s goal for 2016 is to take 800 youths outdoors.

You can support my son Nate’s and my goal of raising at least $4,000 for Big City Mountaineers by making a donation here. Thank you for your support for Big City Mountaineers.

I began hiking mountains in my early twenties, and it quickly grew into my passion and my vocation. When I had children, I wanted them to grow up with the outdoors central to their lives—because I believe it will make them happier and better people. I’ve had the great pleasure many times of seeing the awe in their eyes and hearing it in their voices.

Our fundraiser for BCM gives Nate and me an opportunity to help do that for other teenagers—and maybe change their lives. I will write about our team climbing Mount Whitney later at The Big Outside.

 

Nate, age 11, rock climbing at Idaho's Castle Rocks State Park.
Nate, age 11, rock climbing at Idaho’s Castle Rocks State Park.

Meet Our Mt. Whitney Climbing Team

The four Americans and one Canadian comprising our Mount Whitney climbing team include four men and one woman. They hail from the Northeast, Southeast, Midwest, and British Columbia, and range in age from 31 to 66. Please consider supporting their fundraising efforts at crowdrise.com/MtWhitneySFSClimb.

Our team:

 

Molly Baab
Molly Baab

Molly Baab, 40, Melrose, Massachusetts

“I work for the ecommerce website Rue La La in Boston, MA. On the weekends you’ll usually find my husband and me rock or ice climbing, cross-country skiing, canoeing or hiking. Our five-year old daughter, Anna, is out with us most of the time. I’ve told her she’ll have to get a bit older before she can do a big mountain with me, so hopefully Mount Whitney is the first but not the last. I was inspired to sign up for this trip because I’ve long wanted to do a snow climb on a larger mountain and because I believe that all kids would be better off if they spent more time in outdoorsy, active pursuits. So the mission of Big City Mountaineers really speaks to me.”

 

Tim Brosnan
Tim Brosnan

Tim Brosnan, 56, Annandale, New Jersey

“I’m a senior vice president at Willis Towers Watson, a risk-management consulting firm. In addition to many trips throughout the Northeast, I have completed treks in Northern Spain, Nepal, and other parts of the U.S. I’ve been blessed with a beautiful, brilliant wife, three healthy, happy children and the resources to give them everything they needed. Climbing for BCM allows me to honor them and do something to improve the lives of kids who haven’t been as lucky as we have. This adventure combines my interest in helping others and challenging myself.”

 

John Kelly
John Kelly

John Kelly, 66, Maple Ridge, British Columbia

“I’m a retired environmental manager and now a full-time trekker, backpacker and hiker. Raised on a small farm in southeastern British Columbia, my playground was the mountains and forests: fishing, hiking, camping, exploring, bike riding, horseback riding, snowshoeing. I was blessed for 41 years to share my life with my first wife, Iona, who was struck down by cancer. Marrying Iona also gave me an amazing son, Angus. He has a number of physical challenges, including a progressive loss of vision, but has led his life with a positive determination to not let his challenges keep him from doing whatever he sets his mind to. Angus is my one true hero. I have been blessed for a second time by having a beautiful lady share her life with me. Walking the Camino de Santiago in 2015 with Cynthia was the best five weeks of my life. The great outdoors is not only my inspiration but my sanctuary, the place I go to get grounded. The mission of Big City Mountaineers resonates with me at every level, and the opportunity to help make a difference to young people while pursuing my passion is a dream come true.”

 

Nick Ornella
Nick Ornella

Nick Ornella. 31, Cincinnati, Ohio

“I love running, skiing, biking, hiking, camping, and backpacking in various local and national parks. I am a huge fan of the National Park System and hope to visit all of the national parks (17 down, 42 to go!). I signed up to climb Mount Whitney and raise money for BCM because I want some kids less fortunate than I’ve been to be able to have the same types of outdoors experiences that I was fortunate to have as a kid with my family. The outdoors has always been a great source of self-confidence and stress relief for me, and I want to pass some of that along to these kids through my fundraising efforts and climb.”

 

Frank Weber and sons Jeremiah and Jonah.
Frank Weber and sons Jeremiah and Jonah.

Frank Weber, 39, Hardeeville, South Carolina

“Born and raised in Tucson, Arizona, I have spent the last 20 years vigorously backpacking as much as I can. Over the past eight years, my wife and I have taken our children with us on the majority of our outdoors adventures. Since before they could crawl, we have watched them flourish in the outdoors, which has solidified for us the importance of unplugging children from our hyper-connected world to let them experience the peace and tranquility of nature. This climb is an opportunity for me to contribute to an unforgettable experience for a child who wouldn’t otherwise have the chance, while doing what I love.”

 

 

Wind4-016Did you enjoy this story? I’m Michael Lanza, the creator of The Big Outside, and I appreciate connecting with my readers. I invite you to subscribe to this blog by entering your email address in the box at the top of the left sidebar or on my About page, and follow my adventures on Facebook and Twitter.

 

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In the Footsteps of John Muir: Finding Solitude in the High Sierra https://thebigoutsideblog.com/in-the-footsteps-of-john-muir-finding-solitude-in-the-high-sierra/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/in-the-footsteps-of-john-muir-finding-solitude-in-the-high-sierra/#comments Wed, 31 Aug 2011 07:41:01 +0000 http://thebigoutside.net/?p=1791 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

I’m slogging up a long ramp of beach-like sand toward Cox Col, an off-trail pass sitting a few ticks over 13,000 feet in California’s John Muir Wilderness. The high-altitude sun feels like a blacksmith’s forge hovering right above my head. My breaths come faster than my steps, and I feel lightheaded. But I’m thinking mostly about the pass ahead of us—and whether there’s a safe route over it.

My friend Jason Kauffman and I are on a 32.2-mile, three-day traverse of one of the highest, harshest, and most achingly gorgeous strips of the High Sierra, from North Lake, outside Bishop, to Mosquito Flat, between Bishop and Mammoth Lakes. I’ve devised a route linking up trails with long stretches of cross-country hiking over lake-studded alpine basins and six passes between 11,150 and 13,040 feet. We are exploring corners of the Sierra rarely seen by people. John Muir himself would have been pleased with our itinerary.

Our route’s not in any guidebook—not entirely, anyway. Like assembling a puzzle with some missing pieces, I cobbled the traverse together from thin descriptions of fragments of it. I like that element of uncertainty, of the path ahead being something of a mystery. It’ll be an adventure, I told Jason, who’s laboring up this slope behind me. I got that much right. We’ve logged 10- to 12-hour days, at times weaving through cliff bands, descending steep, loose scree, and scrambling over big talus blocks that could crush a Land Rover.


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Lower Lamarck Lake, John Muir Wilderness. Lamarck Col route Lamarck Col, John Muir Wilderness. Darwin Lakes Fourth Darwin Lake Darwin Lakes. Alpine Col route Goethe Lake Piute Creek Humphreys Basin Humphreys Basin Granite Park. Granite Park. Granite Park. Granite Park. Italy Pass route Italy Pass route Cox Col route. Lake Italy Lake Italy Cox Col

Lamarck Col

Starting out early on our first morning from North Lake Trailhead, we shiver in shorts in the 30° F air. But before long, the sun, intense at these elevations, moves in like a bad roommate. We climb steadily to Upper Lamarck Lake, whose clear, glassy waters act like a crystal ball, reflecting the cliffs and sea of talus awaiting us. From there, although the map shows no trail, we follow a path beaten by previous backpackers to 12,960-foot Lamarck Col.

Not yet acclimated, sucking the thin air in big gulps, I feel the familiar brain-core throbbing of a mild altitude headache—that feeling like someone has surreptitiously hammered a walnut up into the base of my skull. We cross a vast rock garden on a high plateau—thousands of rocks sprayed over the ground, from pebbles to boulders the size of orcas. Around us, pinnacled ridges rise to sharp peaks. Every time I lift my gaze from the path, the scene has changed—the light on the clean, gray-white granitescape having perceptibly shifted, one picture fading out as another fades in. John Muir and Ansel Adams were right: The light does fall differently here.

It’s good to be back in the Sierra.

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Jason Kauffman hiking to Alpine Col in the John Muir Wilderness.

This story actually begins almost 20 years ago, during my first visit to these mountains, backpacking in Yosemite. One trip to the Sierra is like one M&M: you can’t really stop there. This range has pulled me back repeatedly in the years since, including for a thru-hike of the John Muir Trail (JMT) a few summers ago, when I both marveled at the beauty of that classic hike, and kept looking beyond the trail, at amazing peaks and passes and hanging valleys, and wondering, “What’s up there?”

In many U.S. mountain ranges, unless you’re a climber or have an untreatable attraction to thick bushwhacking, you’re left to continue wondering what lies beyond the trail’s edges. But the Sierra, with its open terrain, numerous walkable passes—and, of course, scenery that pulls in adventurers from all over the world—harbors the best cross-country hiking in America. There are scores of possibilities beyond the well-known Sierra High Route (SHR) that are more consistently scenic even than the JMT.

For this trip, I scoured maps and R.J. Secor’s indispensable guidebook The High Sierra—Peaks, Passes, and Trails. Our traverse, partly overlapping the SHR, demands expert skills and mental comfort with difficult scrambling. Thirty-two miles was also quite ambitious for three days out here. But Jason and I resolved to travel light and remind ourselves that all suffering in this world is temporary.

We kick steps across snow-covered talus to Lamarck Col, a break in a blocky ridge, described by Secor as “probably the most popular cross-country route across the Sierra crest between Bishop Pass and Piute Pass.” A sign greets us: “Entering Kings Canyon National Park.” We’ll walk through a northern corner of the national park only for the next several miles, until crossing Alpine Col later today.

This sign might also read, “Welcome to a skyscraping land of rock and water and virtually no vegetation,” because we will walk through that kind of starkly beautiful environment for most of the miles that lay ahead.

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

Humphreys Basin in the John Muir Wilderness.

Darwin Canyon

The plunge into icy water steals away my breath as effectively as the elevation. We stop on our first afternoon for a quick dip and lunch beside the fourth (or second-highest) of five lakes arrayed like a string of pearls in Darwin Canyon. Sunshine glints off the water, which ripples from a slight breath of wind. We lounge in T-shirts on flat slabs. Across the lake, a snowmelt cascade jostles loudly down a talus slope below a small glacier on 13,710-foot Mt. Meridel. I turn to say something to Jason, and see him napping.

It soon becomes clear we have this entire hanging valley to ourselves. That’s not an observation made often in the Sierra. When one of the world’s great mountain ranges shares a state with 36 million people, solitude becomes an elusive quarry. On this trip, though, encountering other hikers will be the anomalous experience, so unusual it’s a pleasant surprise. While we will see a few groups of backpackers along trails on our route, though, we will see no one on the off-trail sections.

And that may be the best reason to get off-trail here—to see, in a sense, the “lost Sierra,” the wilder, lonelier, harder, and vaster spaces beyond the Mt. Whitneys and Yosemites. For reasons difficult to enunciate, an alpine lake feels colder, a campsite below a jagged skyline more remote and tranquil, and a 12,000-foot pass like a prouder accomplishment when you’re not just another hiker in the queue.

By early evening that first day, we stand in a more earnest breeze at 12,320-foot Alpine Col. Behind us, a heavy mountain shadow falls like a comforter over Lake 11910—one of three nameless lakes in the trailless, nameless valley we have just hiked up. The lake’s talus-choked shores rises to cliffs and angular, razor peaks washed in a rosy light. It is a snapshot you could take in a thousand spots in the Sierra. But after hauling ourselves up over all that talus and not running into another person along the way, we are the only people getting that shot.

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Granite Park in the John Muir Wilderness.

Humphreys Basin

It looks as if someone laid the rocks in place.

Big, closely spaced, and flat-topped, they form a neat, meandering line bridging 25-foot-wide, calf-deep Piute Creek. They remind me of similar easy rock-hops that I’ve seen spanning broad creeks elsewhere in the Sierra. I suppose it’s just statistical inevitability: In a land so littered with rocks, the odds are that some would form lines of stepping stones across creeks. But it does encourage the impression that this place is perfect.

Jason and I cross the creek. It’s our second morning, and we’re en route to sprawling Humphreys Basin, below Mt. Humphreys, which rises to nearly 14,000 feet. With scores of lakes, tarns, and perennial puddles, the map of this plateau above 11,000 feet looks like someone waved a dripping paintbrush over it.

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The Magic of Hiking to Yosemite’s Waterfalls https://thebigoutsideblog.com/the-magic-of-falling-water-hiking-to-yosemites-waterfalls/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/the-magic-of-falling-water-hiking-to-yosemites-waterfalls/#comments Thu, 22 Jul 2010 09:56:16 +0000 http://thebigoutside.net/?p=689 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

My seven-year-old daughter, Alex, is engaged in some heavy intellectual lifting. I can tell by the way she stares quietly, her brow knitted in thought, at Upper Yosemite Falls. We’ve hiked for 90 minutes up a thousand vertical feet of hot, dusty trail above Yosemite Valley to stand below this curtain of water that plunges a sheer 1,430 feet off a cliff, ripping through the air with a sound like fighter jets buzzing us.

I can only imagine how it challenges her young sense of perspective. I was an adult when I first saw Yosemite Falls, the tallest in North America at 2,425 feet, consisting of the upper falls in front of us, several hundred feet of cascades below it, and 400-foot-tall Lower Yosemite Falls, out of sight far below us. It awed me then, as it still does. But I’m wondering what it looks like to the eyes of a seven-year-old.

Finally, Alex asks me, “How does the water go up the mountain?”

Correction: I could not imagine her perspective—I sure didn’t anticipate that question, anyway. But after she utters it, it strikes me as a perfectly logical inquiry for someone who hasn’t conceptualized that uphill from this liquid tower, beyond sight, sprawls a high country of forest and meadows. Up there, an exceptionally deep snowpack from the past winter and spring continues melting well into summer, feeding Yosemite Creek and this waterfall. To Alex, the water appears to materialize inexplicably from the top of this cliff.

 

We are on a family trip to Yosemite Valley to hike to some of the most spectacular waterfalls on the continent—and we’ve come in early summer, when mountain snowmelt fattens them up so much that they create something like a very localized rainstorm, even on a sunny day. Besides Alex and me, our three-generation party consists of my nine-year-old son, Nate, my 12-year-old nephew, Marco, my wife, Penny, and my 73-year-old mom, Joanne, who hiked to these same waterfalls with me 15 years ago.

First, like good tourists, we warmed up with short walks to some of the sights that make the Valley special. We scrambled to the banks of the Merced River in the lower end of the Valley, where the river is a perpetual thunderclap of foaming whitewater coursing around boulders the size of SUVs. And we walked to Vista Point below Bridalveil Falls, getting showered by mist.

Upper Yosemite Falls.
Upper Yosemite Falls.

At nearly eight miles round-trip with 2,700 feet of vertical ascent, we knew the dayhike to the brink of Upper Yosemite Falls would test the endurance of some of our party. (On the park shuttle bus to the trailhead, the driver, upon hearing our plans, had made a point of walking to the back of the bus to warn us against trying to take young kids all the way up the Upper Yosemite Falls Trail. We thanked the driver and ignored her advice—preferring to think that our reaction says more about our kids’ abilities as hikers than it says about our judgment as parents.)

And indeed, we didn’t start hiking until noon—a long story that basically boils down to the fact that Yosemite Valley is one of the most popular and crowded destinations in America. So now we’re laboring uphill in blazing heat, and I’m receiving a lot of blowback from certain small people complaining about being tired, hot, and hungry.

But that first view of Upper Yosemite Falls begins to spin our little group’s collective morale 180 degrees. Revived by snacks and scenery, and dazzled by the waterfall’s mist raining onto us out of a blue sky, the kids pick up enthusiasm and speed. Yosemite Valley gradually slips farther below us, until the big trees down there look less like a forest than a neat supermarket display of broccoli crowns. And after about four hours of climbing, we tiptoe along a narrow catwalk of steps blasted out of the cliff face to a broad ledge, with a railing, at the top of the waterfall. There, we peer transfixed over the dizzying brink, watching Yosemite Creek leap off a cliff with a force many times that of a fire hose and disperse in a curtain of water falling through a quarter-mile of air.


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.


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Born in snow at up to 13,000 feet in Yosemite’s backcountry, the upper Merced River—just that stretch of the young river upstream from Yosemite Valley—drains an area of the park encompassing about 182 square miles, the approximate equivalent of 140 Central Parks. Not many rivers drop as steeply as the upper Merced, which plunges 8,000 feet within just 24 miles. Over the river’s three and a half miles right before it levels out upon entering the Valley, it tumbles 1,880 feet through a geologic wonder known as the Giant Staircase, including two sheer drops: 594 feet over Nevada Fall, and 317 feet over Vernal Fall.

Not surprisingly, the loop dayhike on the Mist and John Muir trails to those two waterfalls is one of the most popular in America.

Because getting an early start to beat the crowds is as easy with children as crushing granite with your bare hands, we start up the Mist Trail in late morning, when the flow of hikers seems almost as heavy as the Merced’s whitewater torrent paralleling the path. We weave around slow-hiker jams, thinking this feels like a strange cross between a walk in nature and Black Friday at the mall. But the kids don’t seem to mind the hordes too much.

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And having been up this trail a few times, I want them to experience it. Fifteen years ago, when my mom and I hiked it during a June of unusually high runoff, it was all we could do to struggle uphill through the monsoon hitting the trail from the colossal force of Vernal Fall smashing onto the rocks at its base: We just put our heads down, rain jacket hoods up, shielded our faces with an arm, and plowed through.

Today, true to the Mist Trail’s name, we walk through a light shower from Vernal Fall. Energized by this phenomenon of rain materializing from sunshine, Marco, Alex, and Nate scamper upward as quickly as they can high-step up the trail’s large granite blocks. I hustle to stay on their heels. The sunlight through the mist launches a rainbow arcing down-canyon from the foot of the waterfall. At one point, Nate turns to me with a wide grin and gushes, “I can see why they call this the Mist Trail!”

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