Utah parks – The Big Outside https://thebigoutside.com America’s Best Backpacking and Outdoor Adventures Mon, 02 Mar 2026 13:14:44 +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 Utah parks – The Big Outside https://thebigoutside.com 32 32 159605698 7 Great Southwest Backpacking Trips for Beginners https://thebigoutsideblog.com/the-5-southwest-backpacking-trips-you-should-do-first/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/the-5-southwest-backpacking-trips-you-should-do-first/#comments Sun, 01 Mar 2026 10:05:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=24684 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

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

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


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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Grand Canyon’s Corridor Trails

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Narrows in Zion

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Needles District in Canyonlands

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Coyote Gulch, Glen Canyon National Recreation Area

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

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

And that was just in the first hour.

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

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

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

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

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plus get a FREE e-book! Join now!

 

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

Zion’s Kolob Canyons and West Rim Trail

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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The 15 Best Hikes in Utah’s National Parks https://thebigoutsideblog.com/the-best-hikes-in-utahs-national-parks/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/the-best-hikes-in-utahs-national-parks/#comments Sat, 21 Feb 2026 10:00:38 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=27113 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

From natural arches, hoodoos, and hanging gardens to balanced rocks and towering mesas, slot canyons and vast chasms, the desert Southwest holds in its dry, searing, lonely open spaces some of America’s most fascinating and inspiring geology. The writer “Cactus Ed” Abbey no doubt had this region in mind when he said there “are some places so beautiful they can make a grown man break down and weep.” Much of it sits protected within southern Utah’s five national parks: Zion, Bryce Canyon, Arches, Canyonlands, and Capitol Reef.

The good news? Many of the best sights can be reached on dayhikes of anywhere from a couple hours to a full day.

A hiker below the Wall of Windows on the Peek-a-Boo Loop in Bryce Canyon National Park.
Cyndi Hayes hiking below the Wall of Windows on the Peek-a-Boo Loop in Bryce Canyon National Park.

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 below of the best dayhikes in southern Utah’s national parks draws from numerous trips I’ve made to each of these parks over the past three decades, including the 10 years I spent as a field editor for Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog. Use my list as your compass, and I guarantee you will knock off the best hikes in these parks.

Like many stories at this blog, part of this one is free for anyone to read, but reading it in full and seeing the full list of hikes described below is an exclusive benefit of a paid subscription to The Big Outside.

I’d love to read your thoughts about my list—and your suggestions for dayhikes that belong on it. Please share them in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments, and as I continue to explore more trails, I will regularly update this story.

A teenage boy hiking Angels Landing, Zion National Park.
My son, Nate, hiking Angels Landing in Zion National Park.

Angels Landing and West Rim Trail, Zion National Park

Angels Landing unquestionably belongs on any list of the best dayhikes in Utah. The five-mile, nearly 1,500-foot round-trip hike 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, knife-edge ridge crest of rock, using steps carved out of sandstone and chain handrails in spots. And the 360-degree panorama from the summit takes in all of Zion Canyon.

Two tips: If you can hike a strong pace, start in very early morning or wait until mid-afternoon (when the lower section of trail falls into shade) to avoid the crowds and the heat of midday. And after summiting Angels, continue up the West Rim Trail for another mile or two before turning back—you will ditch the crowds and explore a sublimely beautiful area of giant beehive towers and white walls streaked in red and orange.

Due to the hike’s enormous popularity, Zion National Park holds a seasonal lottery four times per year at recreation.gov for permits to dayhike Angels Landing. Key lottery dates for Zion’s two peak hiking seasons, spring and fall, are Feb. 13-25 for hiking permits from March 1 through May 31, held at recreation.gov/permits/4675310; for hiking dates from Sept. 1 through Nov. 30, the lottery dates in 2025 were July 1-20 and held at recreation.gov/permits/4675325, but the lottery dates for fall 2026 have not been announced yet. The permit is only required for hiking the spur trail up Angels Landing; anyone can hike as far as Scout Lookout without a permit.

A separate lottery for dayhiking permits is held daily before 3 p.m. Mountain Time the day before you want to hike it. Learn more and find the link for a day-before permit at nps.gov/zion/planyourvisit/angels-landing-hiking-permits.htm.

See my stories “Hiking Angels Landing: What You Need to Know” and “The 10 Best Hikes in Zion National Park.”

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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 National Park

If the view of Bryce’s stone forest of multi-colored hoodoos is breathtaking from roadside overlooks, hiking in their labyrinthine midst is mesmerizing. Combine the popular and short Navajo Loop/Queens Garden Loop—which features one of the park’s best-known formations, Thor’s Hammer—with the Peek-a-Boo Loop (also shown in lead photo at top of story), and you will lose the crowds while walking through a maze of multi-colored limestone, sandstone, and mudstone towers.

The hike, mostly on good trails that are easy to follow, weaves among tall hoodoos, passes through doorways cut through walls of rock, and wraps through amphitheaters of wildly colored, slender spires that resemble giant, melting candles. The six-mile loop, with a total 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.

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

A hiker on the Navajo Knobs Trail in Capitol Reef National Park, in southern Utah.
My wife, Penny, hiking the Navajo Knobs Trail in Capitol Reef National Park, in southern Utah.

Navajo Knobs Trail and Hickman Bridge, Capitol Reef National Park

While other hikes on this list are likely on your radar, Capitol Reef’s Navajo Knobs Trail may not be—and it absolutely should. This may sound like hyperbole, but there are few dayhikes in the entire National Park System, never mind in Utah’s parks, that compare, step for step, with the consistently mind-blowing Navajo Knobs Trail (lead photo at top of story).

A 9.4-mile, out-and-back hike with 1,620 feet of uphill and downhill, it starts at the same trailhead as the immensely popular Hickman Bridge Trail, winding upward to the Rim Overlook at 2.3 miles from the trailhead, with a sweeping view of the cliffs and the Waterpocket Fold from 1,000 feet above the Fremont River Gorge. The lightly traveled trail then meanders along the canyon rim, below enormous cliffs and towers in a variety of shapes and sizes, with continuously expanding panoramas of Capitol Reef, ending with some easy scrambling to the top of one of the pinnacles known as the Navajo Knobs.

The Navajo Knobs Trail presents delightful surprises around every turn and a unique perspective on the fascinating topography of Capitol Reef National Park. The short and easy Hickman Bridge Trail, less than two miles out-and-back with 400 feet of up and down, loops around the natural bridge, which spans 133 feet—a terrific hike for a young family.

See “The Best Hikes in Capitol Reef National Park.”

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

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

Chesler Park, Canyonlands National Park

Hiking to Chesler Park in the Needles District of Canyonlands has the quality of approaching the Emerald City in the land of Oz. Multi-colored, 300-foot-tall towers of Cedar Mesa sandstone form a castle-like rampart, looming ever larger as you approach Chesler. The trail then leads steeply uphill through a break in the row of pinnacles—the doorway into Chesler Park, a horseshoe of sandstone spires arcing around a patch of desert more than a mile across.

From ledges between the spires of Chesler, you get views of the park’s pinnacles and the sprawling badlands outside its walls, where giant, white-capped mushrooms of stone sprout from the earth, and more red spires rise in the distance. It’s roughly 10 miles out-and-back hike to Chesler without probing into it. But if you have the time and stamina, hike the path almost three miles around the park to the Joint Trail, which passes through a very narrow, sheer-walled slot in solid rock.

See my story “No Straight Lines: Backpacking and Hiking in Canyonlands and Arches National Parks.”

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

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

Delicate Arch at Sunset, Arches National Park

The trail to what is probably Utah’s most famous natural arch is certainly a well-traveled path. But here’s the smart hiker’s strategy: Do it in the evening, timing your arrival at Delicate for shortly before sunset. The final stretch of the trail traverses the face of a small slickrock cliff before suddenly depositing you on the rim of an amphitheater of solid rock, looking across the broad bowl at Delicate Arch, with the La Sal Mountains, snow-covered in spring, visible through its keyhole. Then hold your jaw in place while watching as the low-angle sunlight seems to electrify the sandstone’s burnt color.

Just three miles round-trip with minimal elevation gain, it’s an easy stroll, even returning by headlamp; and that time of day is far more pleasant than trudging it during the morning or afternoon heat. Tip: Bring a headlamp and jacket and linger for a while after sunset, until most other hikers have departed, and you’ll enjoy a quieter, enchanting walk under a sky riddled with stars.

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

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

The Riverside Walk and the Narrows, Zion National Park

Along the Riverside Walk, in The Narrows, Zion National Park.
Along the Riverside Walk, in The Narrows, Zion National Park.

From the Temple of Sinawava, at the upper end of Zion Canyon, you’ll walk the flat and very scenic, wheelchair-accessible, mile-long Riverside Trail, paralleling the North Fork of the Virgin River beneath red cliffs and shady cottonwood trees whose leaves turn golden in fall. At the end of that trail, you can either turn back or enter the typically ankle- to calf-deep river and follow it upstream to explore the Narrows, a canyon up to a thousand feet deep, with walls that close in enough to cut off direct sunlight in places, where waterfalls pour from rock walls, nurturing hanging gardens.

At Orderville Canyon, a narrow side canyon about 2.5 miles from the trailhead (on the right when walking upstream), you enter the roughly two-mile-long stretch of the Narrows known as Wall Street, where the river often spans the deeply shaded canyon wall to wall. Wall Street ends just before Big Spring, a lush and large hanging garden about five miles up, beyond which hiking is prohibited without a backcountry permit.

One of the most magnificent and unique hikes in the national parks and enormously popular, the lower Narrows teems with hundreds and sometimes thousands of dayhikers on hot days of late spring and summer, when the river is low and warmer.

See “The 10 Best Hikes in Zion National Park.”

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A hiker relaxing in Partition Arch in Devils Garden, Arches National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm relaxing in Partition Arch in Devils Garden, Arches National Park.

Devils Garden, Arches National Park

Much of the mass popularity of Arches owes to the ease of viewing many of its signature features on short to very short hikes and roadside walks. That’s exactly why Devils Garden is the best hike in the park (at least among hikes that follow established trails). Besides being really scenic—you can view seven arches, including the park’s largest, 306-foot-long Landscape Arch—it’s much more adventurous.

The hiking is flat and easy for nearly one mile to Landscape Arch (almost two miles round-trip); beyond it, though, you’ll discover part of the magic of Devils Garden: immersing yourself in the landscape off the trail. You will scamper up and down steep sandstone fins and out onto exposed overlooks, and you can even scramble up into Partition Arch. Hike to all seven arches in the Devils Garden area, and you’ll cover about eight miles by the time you return to the Devils Garden Trailhead, at the end of the park road through Arches.

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.

See my 5-level difficulty rating system in my story
How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”

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.

Cohab Canyon and Frying Pan Trail, Capitol Reef National Park

Of southern Utah’s five national parks, Capitol Reef plays the Cinderella role as the unappreciated beauty—which hikers who love the place consider a fortuitous break. I’ve explored much of this park’s lonely backcountry, and it’s worth all of the time and effort it demands. But to sample Capitol Reef’s Utah-caliber scenery on a relatively easy hike of two to three hours, head up the Cohab Canyon Trail, through a defile of walls sculpted with countless “windows.” From the clifftop ledges at the North Fruita Overlook and South Fruita Overlook, reached by hiking several minutes on spur trails, you’ll get breathtaking views from about 400 feet above the valley of the Fremont River.

Take a short, out-and-back detour onto the Frying Pan Trail: Within about 20 minutes of leaving Cohab Canyon, you’re on top of the nearly 100-mile-long Waterpocket Fold, soaking in a mind-boggling landscape of creamy-white, burgundy, and blazing-orange domes and cliffs. The Cohab Canyon Trail extends just 1.7 miles between UT 24 near the Hickman Bridge Trailhead and its other trailhead across the park’s Scenic Road from Fruita Campground; shuttle vehicles or a bike to hike it end-to-end, or hike out and back from either trailhead.

I describe the outstanding 11-mile hike combining Cohab Canyon and Frying Pan Trail in my story “The Best Hikes in Capitol Reef National Park.” See also “Playing the Memory Game in Southern Utah’s Escalante, Capitol Reef, and Bryce Canyon.”

Plan your next great backpacking adventure using my expert e-books.
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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.

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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.

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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 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.”

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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?
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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.”

The Big Outside helps you find the best adventures.
Join now for full access to ALL stories and get a free e-book!

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10 Perfect National Park Backpacking Trips for Beginners https://thebigoutsideblog.com/5-perfect-national-park-backpacking-trips-for-beginners/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/5-perfect-national-park-backpacking-trips-for-beginners/#comments Sat, 31 Jan 2026 10:00:39 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=27013 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

So you’re a novice backpacker, or you’re planning your first backpacking trip in a big, Western national park, or you have kids you want to take on a relatively easy backpacking trip—and you want to sample the best scenery, trails, and backcountry campsites that experienced backpackers get to enjoy in our national parks. No worries. These 10 trips in Grand Teton, Zion, Grand Canyon, Glacier, Olympic, Rocky Mountain, Mount Rainier, Canyonlands, and two in Yosemite (photo above) are ideal for beginners and families, with easy to moderately difficult days and simple logistics, while delivering the spectacular vistas that each of these parks is famous for.

In fact, two of them (Yosemite and Grand Teton) were among the very first multi-day hikes I took as a novice backpacker more than three decades ago, and seven (Zion, Grand Teton, Glacier, Grand Canyon, Olympic, Mount Rainier, and Rocky Mountain) were among my kids’ earliest trips, which we took when they ranged in age from six to 10. They are also among the nicest multi-day hikes I’ve taken over more than three decades (and counting) of carrying a backpack, including the 10 years I spent as a field editor for Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog.


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


Woman and two young children backpacking the West Rim Trail in Zion National Park.
My wife, Penny, with our kids, Nate and Alex, hiking up the West Rim Trail on a family backpacking trip in Zion National Park.

Besides delivering on all you expect from a backpacking trip in a flagship national park, any of these outings will help prepare you for bigger, more ambitious adventures. And like many stories at this blog, much of this one is free for anyone to read, but reading it all and seeing the entire list of backpacking trips is an exclusive benefit for paid subscribers to The Big Outside.

I can help you plan any of them—or any trip you read about at this blog, including beginner-friendly backpacking trips not in national parks, avoiding the need to reserve a permit months in advance. See my Custom Trip Planning page.

See also my stories “The 10 Best National Park Backpacking Trips,” “10 Tips for Getting a Hard-to-Get National Park Backcountry Permit,” “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips,” and “10 Tips for Taking Kids on Their First Backpacking Trip.”

Please tell me what you think of these trip ideas or offer your own in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

A young boy hiking in the North Fork Cascade Canyon in Grand Teton National Park.
My son, Nate, on a family backpacking trip in Grand Teton National Park. Click photo for my expert e-book to this trip.

Grand Teton’s Paintbrush-Cascade Canyons Loop

Distance: 19.7 miles
Difficulty: Moderate

A backpacker on the Teton Crest Trail, Grand Teton National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking to Paintbrush Divide in Grand Teton National Park.

The 19.7-mile loop linking up Paintbrush and Cascade canyons from String Lake offers something of a highlights reel of Grand Teton National Park and is undoubtedly among the most scenic sub-20-mile, multi-day hikes in the National Park System. With nearly 4,000 feet of elevation gain and loss, the loop crosses one of the highest points reached via trail in the park, 10,720-foot Paintbrush Divide, where the panorama takes in a jagged skyline featuring some of the highest summits in the Tetons. It also passes by beloved Lake Solitude, nestled in a cirque of cliffs, and below the striped cliffs of Paintbrush Canyon and waterfalls and soaring peaks of Cascade Canyon.

We backpacked this popular loop over three days with our kids when they were young, camping at Upper Paintbrush the first night and North Fork Cascade the second, and seeing moose in Cascade Canyon; I’ve also dayhiked it. It can be hiked in either direction—and the Paintbrush side is steeper and more strenuous whether going up or down it. But by going counter-clockwise, you enjoy a steady view of the Grand Teton looming high above the North Fork of Cascade Canyon; and you finish down Cascade Canyon, where most of the group can avoid the final slog through the woods and take the boat shuttle across Jenny Lake—with in-your-face views of the peaks—while someone hikes the last 45 minutes to retrieve the car at String Lake.

Click here now to get my expert e-book
to this beginner-friendly backpacking trip in Grand Teton National Park.

I can personally help you plan this trip (or any trip you read about at my blog), from permit to daily hiking plan, through my custom trip planning; click here to learn how—and to read hundreds of comments from others who’ve received my custom trip planning, many of which were for backpacking in the Tetons.

See all stories about backpacking in Grand Teton National Park at The Big Outside (some of which require a paid subscription to read in full), including “A Wonderful Obsession: Backpacking the Teton Crest Trail,” “The 5 Best Backpacking Trips in Grand Teton National Park,” “How to Get a Permit to Backpack the Teton Crest Trail,” and “Walking Familiar Ground: Reliving Old Memories and Making New Ones on the Teton Crest Trail” about taking our kids at young ages on the TCT.

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

Backpackers on the South Kaibab Trail in the Grand Canyon.
Backpackers on the South Kaibab Trail in the Grand Canyon. Click photo for my e-book “The Best First Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon.”

The Best First Trip in the Grand Canyon

Distance: 21 to 23.5 miles
Difficulty: Moderate to strenuous

A hiker on the Grand Canyon's South Kaibab Trail.
A hiker on the Grand Canyon’s South Kaibab Trail.

While this is one of the most strenuous trips on this list, for beginner backpackers or families with good stamina who are up for a somewhat bigger challenge, crossing the Grand Canyon from rim to rim constitutes one of the most scenically astonishing experiences in the entire National Park System. Beginning at either the South or North Rim, you will descend through a constantly changing environment and multiple layers of geology, from vistas encompassing a huge swath of the canyon to intimate side canyons with rushing creeks and waterfalls.

The distance ranges from 21 to 23.5 miles depending on whether you combine the South Kaibab Trail or Bright Angel Trail with the North Kaibab Trail, and the cumulative elevation gain and loss is well over 10,000 feet. Many backpackers spread it over three days. Still, water sources are regular and you’re hiking the best-constructed trails in the entire canyon.

Want a shorter Grand Canyon sampler? Hike 16.5 miles rim to river to rim: down the South Kaibab Trail and up the Bright Angel Trail over two or three days, with one night at Bright Angel Campground on the Colorado River and a possible second night at Havasupai Gardens Campground along the Bright Angel Trail to break up the long climb back up from the river.

See my story “Fit to Be Tired: Hiking the Grand Canyon Rim to Rim in a Day” for photos from this trip and my tale of dayhiking rim to rim, “How to Get a Permit to Backpack in the Grand Canyon,” and “10 Epic Grand Canyon Backpacking Trips You Must Do.”

Click here now for my expert e-book to backpacking the Grand Canyon rim to rim.

A view from the John Muir Trail of Half Dome, Liberty Cap, and Nevada Fall in Yosemite National Park.
A view from the John Muir Trail of Half Dome, Liberty Cap, and Nevada Fall in Yosemite. Click photo to get my expert e-book “The Best First Backpacking Trip in Yosemite.”

The Magnificent Heart of Yosemite

Distance: 37.2 miles (with shorter options)
Difficulty: Moderate

Anyone looking for a five-star introduction to backpacking in Yosemite that hits marquis highlights and is beginner friendly need look no further than this 37.2-mile loop from Yosemite Valley. From the popular Happy Isles Trailhead at the east end of The Valley, it winds through the core of the park, starting with ascending the Mist Trail past 317-foot Vernal Fall—which rains a heavy mist on hikers—and thunderous, 594-foot Nevada Fall. The distance includes the optional, out-and-back climb of the steep and exposed cable route up Half Dome, where the summit view of Yosemite Valley is arguably only outdone by the view you’ll get later on the hike from a thousand feet higher on the knife-edge summit ridge of Clouds Rest.

From a campsite on the edge of the alpine meadows at Sunrise, you’ll get a sweeping view of the granite castles of the Cathedral Range. And the hike, spread over four to five days, follows a couple stretches of the world-famous John Muir Trail, descending it on the last day past a calendar-photo vista of Half Dome, Liberty Cap, and Nevada Fall.

Vernal Fall, beside the Mist Trail in Yosemite National Park.
Vernal Fall, beside the Mist Trail in Yosemite National Park. Click photo to get my help planning your Yosemite adventure.

See my story “Where to Backpack First Time in Yosemite” for a description of this route, and a much more detailed description with complete trip-planning guidance in my e-book “The Best First Backpacking Trip in Yosemite,” which also covers alternate multi-day hiking itineraries beginning and ending at various trailheads ringing this core area of the park, including routes from Tuolumne Meadows and stunning Tenaya Lake. Click here to see all e-books available at The Big Outside, including three trips in Yosemite.

This is Yosemite’s most popular area for backpacking; permits are hard to get. See “How to Get a Yosemite or High Sierra Wilderness Permit.”

And check out “The 10 Best Backpacking Trips in Yosemite,” “Hiking Half Dome: How to Do It Right and Get a Permit,” and all stories about backpacking in Yosemite at The Big Outside.

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

 

Young kids hiking the Gunsight Pass Trail in Glacier National Park.
My kids hiking the Gunsight Pass Trail in Glacier National Park.

Glacier’s Glorious Gunsight Pass Trail

Distance: 20 miles
Difficulty: Moderate

Mountain goat along Glacier National Park's Gunsight Pass Trail.
Mountain goat along Glacier’s Gunsight Pass Trail.

Much of the more than 700 miles of trails in one-million-acre Glacier National Park traverse remote wilderness, requiring a commitment of multiple days backpacking in northern mountains thick with grizzly bears, where weather can shift. But the 20-mile traverse of the Gunsight Pass Trail, from Gunsight Pass Trailhead to Lake McDonald Lodge, is one of the logistically easiest and shortest multi-day hikes in the park. Both trailheads are on the Going-to-the-Sun Road and served by the park’s free shuttle bus.

Most of all, though, the hike takes in some of the park’s best scenery, including one of its largest rivers of ice, the Blackfoot Glacier (seen from a distance), scores of waterfalls, and backcountry camps at Gunsight Lake and Lake Ellen Wilson that rank among the prettiest in the park.

Spread it out over four days and add the optional, 6.6-mile, out-and-back side hike to Sperry Glacier—which involves more than 1,700 vertical feet of up and down and some steep sections, making it a relatively demanding side hike for many adults and children. That stunning trail ascends steadily across a barren, rocky, more recently deglaciated landscape, and passes through a narrow notch in the cliffs at Comeau Pass to reach an overlook of the Sperry Glacier.

Unlike trails around Logan Pass and Many Glacier, this route is not crowded with dayhikers. I’ve backpacked it twice—the second time with our kids when they were nine and seven, taking three days—and saw mountain goats near Gunsight Pass both times. The moderately graded trail never gets terribly steep, so it feels easier than the distances suggest, although the long descent to Lake McDonald is a thigh-pounder; still, hike it east to west because in the other direction, the day one uphill from Lake McDonald would be a strenuous and long slog, much of it exposed to the hot sun.

See my story “Jagged Peaks and Wild Goats: Backpacking Glacier’s Gunsight Pass Trail,” “5 Reasons You Must Backpack in Glacier National Park,” “How to Get a Permit to Backpack in Glacier National Park,” “10 Backpacking Trips for Solitude in Glacier National Park,” and all stories about backpacking in Glacier at The Big Outside.

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

A hiker on the West Rim Trail in Zion National Park.
David Ports hiking the West Rim Trail in Zion National Park.

Zion’s Otherworldly West Rim Trail

Distance: 14 miles
Difficulty: Moderate

A mother and young daughter backpacking the West Rim Trail in Zion National Park.
My wife, Penny, and our daughter, Alex, backpacking the West Rim Trail in Zion National Park.

Only in a national park that features The Narrows—which, admittedly, ranks hands-down as one of the best backpacking trips in America and certainly one of the best in the Southwest—could the West Rim Trail be overshadowed. More than a few longtime Zion backcountry denizens have told me the West Rim is their favorite trail in the park—and having dayhiked and backpacked it, I’d say it is, in many ways, just as enchanting as The Narrows.

From the plateau on the trail’s upper sections, you overlook a labyrinth of white-walled canyons and green-topped mesas. Then the trail drops about 2,500 feet in 4.7 miles, zigzagging down a cliff face and through a landscape of towering beehive rock formations and walls streaked in vivid burgundy and salmon hues.

The approximately 14-mile, one-way, north-to-south, mostly downhill hike from Lava Point on Kolob Terrace Road to the Grotto Trailhead in Zion Canyon—requiring a shuttle (available in Springdale)—can be done in one day by fit hikers. But an overnight at one of the campsites along the West Rim Trail lets you see this incomparable scenery in the glorious light of early morning and at sunset, and makes it a more feasible objective for families and novice backpackers. Add just just under a mile for the side hike up Angels Landing, one of the most spectacular and iconic summits in the National Park System.

See my stories about a family backpacking trip on the West Rim Trail, a 50-mile dayhike across Zion that included the West Rim Trail, my e-book to a two-day backpacking trip through Zion’s incomparable Narrows (another relatively beginner-friendly trip), and all stories about Zion at The Big Outside.

See also “7 Great Southwest Backpacking Trips for Beginners,” and read this story about another easy, one- or two-night hike in Capitol Reef National Park’s Spring Canyon.

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

 

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

The Wild Olympic Coast

Distance: 17.5 miles
Difficulty: Easy to Moderate

A young girl hiking past a boulder covered in mussels on the Olympic coast.
My daughter, Alex, hiking past a boulder covered in mussels on the Olympic coast.

Along the 73 miles of seashore within Olympic National Park, you can’t buy fried seafood, ice cream, or a T-shirt. The longest strip of protected wilderness coastline in the contiguous United States, it’s one of the few remaining pieces of ocean-view real estate in the Lower 48 that the explorer Capt. George Vancouver would recognize.

Backpacking the 17.5-mile southern stretch of the Olympic coast from the Hoh River north to La Push Road became one of my kids’ most memorable backpacking trips—mostly for the hours they spent playing in tide pools on the beach (they were nine and seven at the time). But it’s also a hike any adults would find gorgeous and fascinating.

You will walk surprisingly rugged and muddy overland trails in the deep shade of giant trees in one of Earth’s largest virgin temperature rainforests, and scale rope ladders dangling down eroding headlands. Along the beach, you will pass tide pools and boulders teeming with sea stars, mussels, and sea anemones, with sometimes mist-shrouded views of scores of tall stone pinnacles, called sea stacks, rising out of the ocean, some close enough to walk to them at low tide. You may sight seals, sea otters, whales (and to my kids’ delight, lots of slugs).

A fun, beautiful, beginner- and family-friendly trip, especially with school-age kids, it’s also less crowded than the more popular northern stretch of the Olympic coast, an easier permit to obtain—and one of America’s most unique backpacking adventures.

See my story “The Wildest Shore: Backpacking the Southern Olympic Coast.”

See my “10 Tips for Taking Kids on Their First Backpacking Trip
and my very popular “10 Tips For Raising Outdoors-Loving Kids.”

See also “7 Great Southwest Backpacking Trips for Beginners,” and all stories about national park trips and family adventures at The Big Outside.

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

Let The Big Outside help you find the best adventures.
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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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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.

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

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.

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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.
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Sunrise reflection in a tarn above Helen Lake along the John Muir Trail, Kings Canyon N.P.
Sunrise reflection in a tarn above Helen Lake along the John Muir Trail, Kings Canyon N.P.

Backpacking the John Muir Trail from Evolution Basin to Mather Pass

The John Muir Trail, aka “America’s Most Beautiful Trail,” is a 211-mile journey through one of the most picturesque mountain ranges in the country—the High Sierra, which Ansel Adams dubbed “The Range of Light.” When a few friends and I knocked off the JMT in a week, we packed two or three normal days of hiking into each day. (The scenery was morphine for our aching feet.)

A backpacker passing Wanda Lake on the John Muir Trail in Kings Canyon National Park.
Todd Arndt passing Wanda Lake, along the John Muir Trail in the Evolution Basin, Kings Canyon National Park. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan your JMT hike.

But I have to give the edge to the day we ambulated from Evolution Lake in Kings Canyon National Park all the way to the Upper Basin of the South Fork Kings River: past the glassy lakes of the Evolution Basin, over 11,955-foot Muir Pass, through LeConte Canyon with its soaring granite walls, and over 12,100-foot Mather Pass, which we crossed as the setting sun set puffy clouds overhead afire.

I more recently returned to the Evolution Basin on a 130-mile hike, much of it on the JMT, and, yea, it’s still just as pretty as ever.

See all stories about backpacking the John Muir Trail at The Big Outside, including “Thru-Hiking the John Muir Trail: What You Need to Know,” “How to Get a John Muir Trail Wilderness Permit,” “10 Great Section Hikes on the John Muir Trail,” and “Thru-Hiking the John Muir Trail in Seven Days: Amazing Experience, or Certifiably Insane?

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

A backpacker on the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking the Teton Crest Trail on Death Canyon Shelf in Grand Teton National Park. Click photo for my expert e-book to backpacking the Teton Crest Trail.

Two Days Backpacking the Teton Crest Trail

A backpacker on the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park.
David Gordon backpacking the Teton Crest Trail toward Paintbrush Divide.

Having backpacked the Teton Crest Trail multiple times and taken perhaps two dozen hiking, climbing, and backcountry skiing trips throughout the Teton Range, I’ve gotten to know these incomparable peaks pretty well. But the two sections of the TCT that stand out scenically for me are the sections from Death Canyon Shelf to Hurricane Pass and from the North Fork of Cascade Canyon over Paintbrush Divide.

My experiences on those stretches of trail include a bull elk waking us by clomping around just outside our tents; early-morning moose sightings; uninterrupted views of these famously jagged mountains; and endless fields of wildflowers. I’ve had many magical days in the Tetons since my first backpacking trip there more than three decades ago, but I still consider those sections of the TCT its finest.

See my stories “A Wonderful Obsession: Backpacking the Teton Crest Trail,” “5 Reasons You Must Backpack the Teton Crest Trail,” and “10 Great Big Dayhikes in the Tetons,” and all stories about backpacking in Grand Teton National Park at The Big Outside.

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

A hiker on the Navajo Knobs Trail in Capitol Reef National Park, in southern Utah.
My wife, Penny, hiking the Navajo Knobs Trail in Utah’s Capitol Reef National Park.

Hiking Capitol Reef’s Navajo Knobs Trail

Although it dwells in the shadow of the other four of Utah’s Big 5 national parks—Zion, Bryce Canyon, Arches, and Canyonlands—I’ve long seen Capitol Reef as chronically under-appreciated. And that was before I hiked the Navajo Knobs Trail, which I now consider one of the most beautiful dayhikes in the entire National Park System.

A hiker on the Navajo Knobs Trail in Capitol Reef National Park, in southern Utah.
My wife, Penny, hiking the Navajo Knobs Trail in Utah’s Capitol Reef National Park.

A moderate, out-and-back hike (9.4 miles with 1,620 feet of up and down if you do it all, but the scenery is spectacular however far you go), it shares a trailhead with the short, very popular hike to Hickman Natural Bridge, but soon splits from it—and sees very light hiker traffic beyond that junction. The trail passes an overlook of Hickman Bridge, winds upward to a stunning viewpoint from the canyon rim 1,000 feet above the green Fremont River Valley, and then meanders along the rim, with almost constant views of the cliffs and rumpled topography of the Waterpocket Fold, giant formations like Pectols Pyramid, The Castle, and Fern’s Nipple, and the Henry Mountains in the distance.

It culminates with a fun bit of easy scrambling to the tiny summit of one of the pinnacles named the Navajo Knobs, worth the effort for the prospect it offers of the varied and fascinating geology and topography of Capitol Reef National Park.

See my story “The Best Hikes in Capitol Reef National Park.”

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

Two Days in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains

The Sawtooths are another place where it’s difficult to pick just one or even a few standout days because there are so many—especially given how many days I’ve spent in those mountains that have been my home range for nearly three decades. But I feel comfortable spotlighting two (with the caveat that I could have chosen so many more).

On a July day some years back, my wife, Penny, and I started hiking in a cool, morning fog that hung thickly over the Sawtooth Valley and, four-and-a-half hours later—after almost seven miles and climbing 4,200 vertical feet uphill, after passing some beautiful alpine lakes and tarns, and culminating with a bit of airy scrambling, we stood on the small stone block that’s the 10,751-foot summit of Thompson Peak, the highest in Idaho’s Sawtooths. Our reward (besides virtually every moment of the hike itself): a 360-degree panorama of the entire Sawtooth Range and the White Cloud Mountains across the valley.

A hiker on her way up Thompson Peak, the highest in Idaho's Sawtooth Mountains.
My wife, Penny, hiking Thompson Peak (the summit in upper right of photo), the highest in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains.

And in August 2025, Penny and I, joined by two friends, backpacked a four-day route deep into the Sawtooths. On our third day, we hiked past several lovely and lonely wilderness lakes (including the lakes we camped by the previous night and that night), bagged two summits, and crossed three passes. It feels both hard to imagine a better day and yet such a common experience in the Sawtooths.

Watch for my upcoming story about that August 2025 trip. Meanwhile, see my story “The Roof of Idaho’s Sawtooths: Hiking Thompson Peak,” my e-book “The Best Backpacking Trip in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains,” and all stories about backpacking in the Sawtooths Mountains at The Big Outside.

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A backpacker above Granite Creek on the Wonderland Trail, Mount Rainier National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking the Wonderland Trail in Mount Rainier National Park. Click photo for my e-book to backpacking the Wonderland Trail (and the best sections of it).

Backpacking the Wonderland Trail

No multi-day hike in the contiguous United States compares with the Wonderland Trail around Mount Rainier—because there’s no mountain in the Lower 48 like glacier-clad, 14,410-foot Mount Rainier. The sight of “The Mountain” repeatedly filling the horizon at a seemingly unbelievable scale is thrilling every time. But this trail also features some of the most beautiful wildflower meadows you will ever see, countless waterfalls and cascades, crystalline creeks and raging rivers gray with “glacial flour,” and likely sightings of mountain goats, marmots, deer, and possibly black bears.

A backpacker on the Wonderland Trail in Mount Rainier National Park.
Todd Arndt on the Wonderland Trail west of Sunrise in Mount Rainier National Park.

On the second day of a 77-mile hike on what I consider the WT’s best sections (a route described as one of the alternate itineraries in my Wonderland Trail e-book), two friends and I walked from the glorious meadows of Summerland on Rainier’s east side to more meadows west of Sunrise and eventually our campsite at Granite Creek, drinking in some of the best vistas along a path rich with amazing scenery.

See my stories “5 Reasons You Must Backpack Mount Rainier’s Wonderland Trail” and “An American Gem: Backpacking Mount Rainier’s Wonderland Trail.”

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

A hiker at the rim of Red Crater in New Zealand's Tongariro National Park.
A hiker at the rim of Red Crater in New Zealand’s Tongariro National Park.

Hiking New Zealand’s Incomparable Tongariro Alpine Crossing

I could create a separate list just of the most spectacular days I’ve spent in New Zealand. It would include day two on the Kepler Track, at least one day on the Dusky Track, and sea kayaking in Milford Sound and Doubtful Sound, all in Fiordland National Park, as well as days on the Cascade Saddle Route and the Whanganui River.

The largest of the three Emerald Lakes along the Tongariro Alpine Crossing, North Island, New Zealand.
The largest of the three Emerald Lakes along the Tongariro Alpine Crossing, North Island, New Zealand. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan any trip you read about at this blog.

And in late fall 2024, I returned to New Zealand for my fourth trip, this one with my family, and we trekked the classic and popular Milford and Routeburn tracks—and the Tongariro Alpine Crossing. A 12-mile/19.4km traverse of Tongariro National Park in the central North Island, the Tongariro Alpine Crossing deserves ranking among the world’s great trails for its almost constant views of active, rugged volcanoes, massive craters, and lakes that all but glow with color. That’s why it’s on this list of mine.

See my stories “Hiking New Zealand’s Epic Tongariro Alpine Crossing” and “Super Volcanoes: Hiking the Steaming Peaks of New Zealand’s Tongariro National Park,” and all stories about adventures in New Zealand at The Big Outside.

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A hiker in the Cirque of the Towers in the Wind River Range.
Todd Arndt hiking through the Cirque of the Towers in the Wind River Range.

Five Days Exploring the Wind River Range

Few places foil my attempts to pick favorite days of hiking more doggedly than the Winds—because few days walking through those mountains are mediocre. But I can spotlight a handful that feel extra special.

A backpacker hiking to Island Lake and Titcomb Basin in Wyoming's Wind River Range.
Todd Arndt backpacking to Island Lake and Titcomb Basin in the Wind River Range.

A one-day, 27-mile, east-west traverse I made of the southern Wind River Range with friends felt like a stroll through mountain paradise. We spent much of our hike above 11,000 feet, drinking up vistas of peaks rising above 12,000 feet on the Continental Divide. We scrambled up 12,250-foot Mount Chauvenet, crossed the Lizard Head Plateau gaping at thick glaciers, and then put an exclamation point on our adventure by walking across the Cirque of the Towers, a horseshoe of sheer-walled granite peaks scratching at the clouds.

On the first day of a 39-mile backpacking trip, two friends and I hiked from the Elkhart Park trailhead, past Island Lake and several others, to camp in Titcomb Basin—an alpine valley at over 10,500 feet, where peaks on the Divide soar more than 3,000 feet above lakes rippling in the wind.

Backpackers hiking past a tarn off the Highline Trail (CDT) in Wyoming's Wind River Range.
Chip Roser and Penny Beach backpacking past a tarn off the Highline Trail (CDT) in Wyoming’s Wind River Range.

Three companions and I backpacked one of the most audacious and magnificent wilderness adventures in the country: traversing the range south to north on the 96-mile Wind River High Route. While most of that week arguably belongs on this list, our fourth day began with crossing Sentry Peak Pass and passing a tiny tarn reflecting a row of incisor mountains in the upper valley of Middle Fork Lake (photo near the top of this story), moved on to a second 11,000-foot pass and eventually reached 12,000 feet on the Divide at Europe Peak.

A backpacker descending from Texas Pass into the Cirque of the Towers in the Wind River Range, Wyoming.
Chip Roser descending from Texas Pass into the Cirque of the Towers in the Wind River Range, Wyoming. Click photo to get my help planning your next trip.

Backpacking a 43-mile loop, my wife, a friend, and I started our second day from one of the best backcountry campsites I’ve ever had (photo above of reflection in a tarn), walked a stunning stretch of the Highline/Continental Divide Trail past two of the prettiest backcountry lakes I’ve hiked past and more lakes that came close, crossed three high passes, and finally, camped by a lake that reflected the alpenglow on the peaks.

Most recently, on a four-day hike in August 2023, a friend and I crossed three passes on our third day, the middle one, Texas Pass, depositing us in the Cirque of the Towers via a back door of sorts that may have sealed my impression that we were on the best multi-day hike in the Winds. Watch for my upcoming story about that trip.

See all stories about backpacking in the Winds at the Big Outside, including “The 10 Best Backpacking Trips in the Wind River Range,” “The Best Backpacking Trip in the Wind River Range? Yup,” “Backpacking Through a Lonely Corner of the Wind River Range,” “Best of the Wind River Range: Backpacking to Titcomb Basin,” “Adventure and Adversity on the Wind River High Route,” and “A Walk in the Winds: Dayhiking 27 Miles Across the Wind River Range.”

I’ve helped many readers plan a great backpacking trip in the Winds that was ideal for them. See my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you, too.

Our 27-mile Winds dayhike is one of “America’s Best Hard Dayhikes.”

Big Spring in The Narrows, Zion National Park.
Big Spring in The Narrows, Zion National Park.

Backpacking The Narrows, Zion National Park

Tough call deciding whether the first or second day backpacking Zion’s Narrows deserves a spot on this list. But take this classic, two-day backpacking trip and you’ll get to decide for yourself. Walking down the mostly shallow North Fork of the Virgin River between close sandstone walls that rise up to a thousand feet overhead, with trees and lush hanging gardens contrasted against rock painted in a rainbow of colors, Zion’s Narrows keeps getting more spectacular with every step.

Read my story “Luck of the Draw, Part 2: Backpacking Zion’s Narrows.”

Click here now to get my e-book to Backpacking Zion’s Narrows.

A trekker overlooking the Grey Glacier on the "W" circuit in Torres del Paine National Park, in Chilean Patagonia.
Jeff Wilhelm overlooking the Grey Glacier on the “W” circuit in Torres del Paine National Park, in Chilean Patagonia.

Hiking Above the Gray Glacier, Torres del Paine National Park, Chile

A rumble of thunder ripped through the air, audible over the persistent wind—but it wasn’t thunder. A few hundred feet below our rocky overlook in Chile’s Torres del Paine National Park, a slowly widening ring of small bergs floated in the lake, shrapnel from a massive chunk of ice that had just calved off the snout of the Grey Glacier. We were ascending a trail over a mountainside scoured to bedrock by ancient ice, scaling hundred-foot-tall steel ladders anchored to the earthen walls of gorges, while looking out over a river of ice two miles across and 17 miles long. Part of the spectacular “W” trek in this park in Chile’s Patagonia region, it was a 19-mile day that ended when we walked up to the Paine Grande Lodge after dark, buzzing with excitement.

See my story “Patagonian Classic: Trekking Torres del Paine,” and all stories about hiking in Patagonia at The Big Outside.

A family of hikers at the crater rim of Mount St. Helens, with Mount Adams in the background.
Three generations of my family at the crater rim of Mount St. Helens, with Mount Adams in the background.

Hiking Mount St. Helens

The catastrophic eruption that decapitated Washington’s Mount St. Helens on May 18, 1980, removing almost 1,300 vertical feet of mountaintop, ironically created one of America’s most strikingly beautiful, fascinating, and coveted dayhikes. On a climb up the mountain’s standard Monitor Ridge route—10 miles and 4,500 vertical feet up and down, most of it over a rugged and stark moonscape of loose rocks, pumice, and ash—you’ll soak up views of several Cascade Range volcanoes, and eventually stand atop the rim’s crumbling cliffs, gazing out over a vast hole 2,000 feet deep and nearly two miles across.

See my story “Three Generations, One Big Volcano: Pushing Limits on Mount St. Helens.”

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

A backpacker hiking the Dawson Pass Trail in Glacier National Park.
Pam Solon backpacking the Dawson Pass Trail in Glacier National Park.

Three Days on the Continental Divide Trail in Glacier

On a couple of long, north-south traverses of Glacier in September 2018 and again in September 2023, mostly following two variations of the Continental Divide Trail from the Belly River Trailhead to Two Medicine, friends and I saw bighorn sheep, mountain goats, black bears, moose, and a grizzly bear, and heard elk bugling almost every morning and evening—and we enjoyed mountain views unlike anywhere else in America.

As difficult as it is to pick out which days on those hikes stood out, I can point to three in particular: hiking the Ptarmigan Tunnel Trail from the Belly River Valley to Many Glacier; hiking below the cliffs of the Garden Wall to cross Piegan Pass; and following the high, alpine Dawson Pass Trail from Pitamakan Pass to Dawson Pass—jaw-dropping, all of them.

Glacier does that to me every time I go there.

See my stories about those two trips, “Wildness All Around You: Backpacking the CDT Through Glacier” and “Déjà Vu All Over Again: Backpacking in Glacier National Park,” “10 Backpacking Trips for Solitude in Glacier National Park,” and all stories about backpacking in Glacier at The Big Outside.

Save yourself a lot of time. Get my expert e-book to backpacking the CDT through Glacier.

Toleak Point, Olympic coast, Olympic National Park.

Backpacking Mosquito Creek to Toleak Point, Southern Olympic Coast

You won’t find much on the longest strip of wilderness coastline in the contiguous United States, the shore of Washington’s Olympic National Park—just seals, sea lions, sea otters, bald eagles, many species of seabirds and whales, and trees 10 to 15 feet in diameter and growing over 200 feet tall. On the middle day of a three-day, 17.5-mile backpacking trip, hiking from Mosquito Creek to Toleak Point, my family explored tide pools and boulders coated with mussels, sea stars, and sea anemones, looked out on scores of stone pinnacles rising out of the ocean, and camped on a wilderness beach. I’m not sure who had more fun, the kids or the adults.

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

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

Two young girls backpacking Paria Canyon in southern Utah and northern Arizona.
My daughter, Alex, and friend Sofi backpacking Paria Canyon in southern Utah and northern Arizona.
A backpacker hiking down southern Utah's Buckskin Gulch.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking southern Utah’s Buckskin Gulch.

Two Days Backpacking Paria Canyon and Buckskin Gulch

Backpacking Buckskin Gulch and Paria Canyon yet again in April 2025, I was reminded just how uniquely spectacular they both are. With walls that rise to perhaps 200 feet tall and close in so tightly at times that an adult wearing a backpack can barely squeeze through, Buckskin is widely regarded as the longest slot canyon in America.

And Paria Canyon, hiked by itself or in combination with Buckskin, has long been widely considered one of the best backpacking trips in the Southwest—and I would argue one of the top three or five, for its own deep narrows section stretching for miles.

Walking through these canyons always reveals that the greatest magic of narrow canyons is how the diffused light paints the orange and red walls in too many shades of those colors to quantify, as well as shades of brown and a deep black that looks like an oil spill—creating stark contrasts that delight and mystify the human eye and brain. Buckskin and Paria each deserve a day on this list.

See my stories “Not a Dull Moment: Backpacking Buckskin Gulch and Paria Canyon” and “The Quicksand Chronicles: Backpacking Paria Canyon,” and all stories about hiking and backpacking in southern Utah at The Big Outside.

Explore the best of the Southwest on “The 15 Best Hikes in Utah’s National Parks” and
The 12 Best Backpacking Trips in the Southwest.”

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

Backpacking the High Sierra Trail, Sequoia National Park

We weren’t far into a nearly 40-mile family backpacking trip in Sequoia before I realized it promised to be one of the most photogenic places I’ve ever hiked. Part of one of the biggest chunks of contiguous wilderness in the Lower 48, it’s home to many of the highest mountains outside Alaska, lonely backcountry groves of giant sequoias, and crystal-clear alpine lakes.

On our third day, hiking the High Sierra Trail from Bearpaw Meadow toward 10,700-foot Kaweah Gap, we traversed a cliff face hundreds of feet above the deep Middle Fork Kaweah River. We stopped for lunch and a swim at the Hamilton Lakes, which are almost completely enclosed by towering cliffs and pinnacles. By late afternoon, we found campsites at Precipice Lake at 10,400 feet, its glassy, green and blue waters reflecting white and golden cliffs (one of my 25 all-time favorite backcountry campsites).

See my story “Heavy Lifting: Backpacking Sequoia National Park.”


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A backpacker on the Royal Arch Loop in the Grand Canyon.
Kris Wagner backpacking the Royal Arch Loop in the Grand Canyon.

Four More Days in the Grand Canyon

Deer Creek Falls on the Grand Canyon's Thunder River-Deer Creek Loop.
Deer Creek Falls on the Grand Canyon’s Thunder River-Deer Creek Loop.

If the Grand Canyon looms large in this story—and in others at The Big Outside, like “The 12 Best Backpacking Trips in the Southwest”—that’s because it looms even larger in my perspective and that of probably every backpacker who ventures into it. In fact, besides hiking rim to rim to rim (described above), I can think of at least a few more days of backpacking in the Big Ditch that rank among my most scenic ever.

Those would include the second day on the very rugged and infrequently hiked, 34.5-mile Royal Arch Loop, which featured just about everything that makes backpacking in the Grand Canyon unique: sweeping views, a sandy beach beside the Colorado River, an intimate side canyon with lush hanging gardens, a high solitude quotient—even some spicy scrambling and a fun rappel off a cliff—not to mention one of the best campsites in the entire canyon, below Royal Arch (one of my 25 all-time favorite backcountry campsites).

It would also include the day that two friends and I traversed most of the Escalante Route, one of the of the prettiest and most adventurous “trails” (if it can be called that) in the canyon, on a 74-mile hike from the South Kaibab Trailhead to Lipan Point. And I’d have to include day three on yet another rugged and remote GC hike, the 25-mile Thunder River-Deer Creek Loop, which features some of the canyon’s loveliest waterfalls, narrows, and desert oases.

Oh, and then there’s almost any day on the Gems Route, the most remote section of the Tonto Trail, from the South Bass Trailhead to the Boucher Trail.

See my stories “Not Quite Impassable: Backpacking the Grand Canyon’s Royal Arch Loop,” “The Best Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon,” “Backpacking the Grand Canyon’s Thunder River-Deer Creek Loop,” “Let’s Talk Water: Backpacking the Grand Canyon’s Gems,” and “10 Epic Grand Canyon Backpacking Trips You Must Do.”

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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.

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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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The 10 Best Hikes in Zion National Park https://thebigoutsideblog.com/insider-tips-the-10-best-hikes-in-zion-national-park/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/insider-tips-the-10-best-hikes-in-zion-national-park/#comments Wed, 14 Jan 2026 10:00:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=30469 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

At a bit over 148,000 acres, Zion comes nowhere near America’s largest national parks in sheer immensity. Zion could fit inside Yosemite National Park five times, inside the Everglades 10 times, inside Yellowstone 15 times, and inside our largest park, Alaska’s Wrangell-St. Elias, 89 times. But if you’re a hiker, Zion harbors, mile for mile, some of the most breathtaking scenery to be found on any trails in the National Park System.

This story will point you to Zion’s 10 best dayhikes, based on my personal experience of many visits there over the past three decades, including formerly as a field editor for Backpacker magazine for about 10 years and even longer running this blog.

You will also find in this story my insider tips on how to avoid the crowds when hiking in what is one of the most-visited national parks. Follow those tips and you will discover an entirely different experience when you’re not sharing the trails with hundreds of other hikers—as are often seen on hikes like Angels Landing and the lower Narrows from spring through fall. Much of this story is free for anyone to read, but reading it all, including my tips for avoiding crowds plus the story’s last four hikes, is an exclusive benefit for paid subscribers.


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


A hiker on the West Rim Trail, Zion National Park.
David Ports hiking the West Rim Trail in Zion National Park.

The park’s free shuttle buses operate regularly between the visitor center, just inside the south entrance, to the end of the Zion Canyon Scenic Drive—which is usually closed to private vehicles—for most of the year. See the park’s Information Guide at nps.gov/zion/planyourvisit/publications.htm. The visitor center parking lot fills early in the day. The Springdale town shuttle connects to the park’s shuttles and there is public parking in Springdale, shown on this map. It’s often easiest to take the town shuttle to stop number one, just outside the park entrance, and use the pedestrian entrance and footbridge over the Virgin River, walking just minutes to the visitor center.

Trails and roads in Zion are occasionally closed due to rockfall, construction, or other reasons. Check current conditions at nps.gov/zion/planyourvisit/conditions.htm.

I’d love to hear what you think of these hikes or any suggestions for your favorite hikes in Zion, as well as your thoughts on my tips for avoiding what can be huge crowds on the most popular hikes. Share them—and read others—in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

A teenage boy hiking Angels Landing, Zion National Park.
My son, Nate, hiking Angels Landing, Zion National Park.

Angels Landing

5 miles round-trip, 1,488 vertical feet up and down
Trailhead: The Grotto (shuttle bus stop no. 6)

You know Angels Landing belongs on any list of the best hikes in Zion—not to mention the best hikes in Utah’s national parks, and the best hikes in the entire National Park System. The five-mile, nearly 1,500-foot round-trip hike reaches its apex in one of the most thrilling half-mile stretches of trail in America. The “trail” follows a knife-edge spine of rock, with chain handrails and steps chiseled out of sandstone in spots. At the summit of this famous pinnacle, you can do a slow spin and see all of Zion Canyon—and its elevation 1,500 feet above the canyon bottom but still hundreds of feet below the canyon rims gives you a unique panorama of one of America’s prettiest natural wonders.

From the Grotto, the West Rim Trail ascends steep switchbacks that get morning sun and can be hot early, to Refrigerator Canyon—often shady and cool—and then the tight switchbacks of Walter’s Wiggles. At Scout Lookout, where the West Rim Trail continues upward, follow the 0.4-mile spur trail up the very exposed crest of Angels Landing to its summit, with fixed chains and steps chopped out of the rock in places. While the ridge offers only a few wider spots (where hikers can safely pass one another), the broader summit area has plenty of space to sit and enjoy one of the park’s best 360-degree panoramas.

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A woman and girl at the summit of Angels Landing in Zion National Park.
My wife, Penny, and daughter, Alex, at the summit of Angels Landing in Zion National Park.

If you have the time and energy, continue up the West Rim Trail into an area of towering beehives, multi-colored cliffs, and increasingly dramatic views of Zion Canyon—spectacular scenery however far you go. (See West Rim Trail description below.)

Angels has a well-deserved reputation as thrilling and scary for its exposure. For anyone who has a fear of heights, it can be terrifying. But hikers accustomed to a little exposure will likely find nothing more difficult than a few sections of short, moderately challenging scrambling. Young kids with the stamina for it, and who will follow instructions, are safe as long as you shadow them closely through exposed sections.

Scroll down to my insider tips for the smartest strategy for avoiding the crowds on Angels Landing and the West Rim Trail.

Due to the hike’s enormous popularity, Zion National Park holds a seasonal lottery four times per year for permits to dayhike Angels Landing at recreation.gov. Key lottery dates for Zion’s two peak hiking seasons, spring and fall, are Jan. 1-20 for hiking permits from March 1 through May 31, held at recreation.gov/permits/4675310; and July 1-20 for hiking dates Sept. 1 through Nov. 30, held at recreation.gov/permits/4675325. A separate lottery for dayhiking permits is held daily; apply for one before 3 p.m. Mountain Time the day before you want to hike it.

The permit is only required for hiking the spur trail up Angels Landing; anyone can hike as far as Scout Lookout without a permit. Learn more about the lottery and find a link to the daily lottery at nps.gov/zion/planyourvisit/angels-landing-hiking-permits.htm.

See my story “Hiking Angels Landing: What You Need to Know.”

Gear up right for hiking in Zion.
See the best hiking shoes and “The 10 Best Hiking Daypacks.”

A hiker at Observation Point in Zion National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm at Observation Point in Zion National Park.

Observation Point

8 miles round-trip, 2,148 vertical feet up and down
Trailhead: Weeping Rock (shuttle bus stop no. 7)

Alternate route: about 7 miles round-trip, 800 feet up and down
Trailhead: East Mesa Trail

Unfortunately, two of the best hikes in Zion Canyon, the Observation Point Trail and Hidden Canyon (below, which can be combined), have been closed since a major rockfall in 2019, with no indications of reopening. The usual access, the East Rim Trail at Weeping Rock in Zion Canyon, is closed, barring access from there to Observation Point and to the Hidden Canyon Trail, as is Weeping Rock shuttle stop no. 7 in Zion Canyon.

Fortunately, there is an alternative route to Observation Point from the East Mesa Trailhead, at about 6,500 feet outside the park. To reach that trailhead, from the park’s East Entrance, drive 2.5 miles east on UT 9 and turn left onto North Fork County Road; follow it for 5.4 miles and turn left/west onto Twin Knoll/Pine Angle Road. Continue straight past the left turn onto Buck Road, then swing right/north onto Beaver Road, which could get rough before reaching the East Mesa Trailhead. The dirt roads on the East Mesa are passable for most cars when dry and can become impassable even for four-wheel-drive vehicles when wet; but the road to East Mesa Trailhead may require 4WD.

The East Mesa Trail leads west and southwest across the high, ponderosa pine-forested plateau, which lacks the constant, magnificent scenery of the East Rim Trail from Zion Canyon to Observation Point; but it may offer more solitude and does get much more interesting after it passes the head of Mystery Canyon (don’t wander down into that technical canyon) some two miles from the trailhead. At the junction of the East Mesa and East Rim trails, about 3.1 miles from the East Mesa Trailhead, turn right/west and follow that trail, with little uphill, to where it ends at Observation Point, high above Zion Canyon and distinctive Angels Landing below and across the canyon.

Hikers on the trail Observation Point in Zion National Park.

Hiking to Observation Point from the Weeping Rock Trailhead, the stunning views begin minutes after you start out and keep getting better all the way to Observation Point, where you stand at the brink of sheer cliffs more than 2,000 feet above Zion Canyon. In fact, it’s arguably prettier and more varied than Angels Landing. It’s also a longer and harder hike than Angels at eight miles and more than 2,100 vertical feet round-trip, but on a good trail that’s mostly solid rock or paved.

There are three distinctly different sections of the hike to Observation Point—all beautiful. The lower stretch zigzags up through a natural bowl in the cliffs above Weeping Rock (which you’ll get a view of below you), gaining elevation and more-expansive views rapidly with each switchback. The middle section enters the often-shady narrows of Echo Canyon, where a stream spawns greenery and pools of water reflect soaring red and white walls; watch for bighorn sheep at less-busy times of day. The upper section of trail breaks out into the sunshine while ascending switchbacks overlooking the dramatic geology of Echo Canyon (lead photo at top of story), then makes a high, airy traverse above Zion Canyon to Observation Point.

Fit hikers can easily combine this with the half-mile-long spur trail off it to Hidden Canyon; plan at least an hour round-trip for the latter, especially if you want to explore beyond the mouth of Hidden Canyon (see below).

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A hiker in The Subway, Zion National Park.
David Gordon hiking The Subway in Zion National Park.

The Subway

9.5 miles, about 2,000 vertical feet downhill and 400 feet uphill
Trailheads: Upper end at Wildcat Canyon Trailhead, 15.5 miles up Kolob Terrace Road; lower end at Left Fork Trailhead, 8.2 miles up Kolob Terrace Road.

Zion’s most-famous, technical slot canyon, the Subway takes its name from a bend where flash floods have bored a colorful, round passage that resembles a subway tunnel. But it’s so much more than that one, oft-photographed spot. Descending it 9.5 miles from top to bottom—which requires only beginner-level canyoneering skills and a popular, one-day permit that’s difficult to get—takes you through a canyon at times wider than a soccer pitch, with trees growing in the shade of walls hundreds of feet tall, which narrows to a slot barely more than shoulder-width across. Like Angels Landing, the Narrows, and arguably Observation Point, the Subway is considered by some to be one of the most scenic and certainly most adventurous one-day outings in the National Park System.

A hiker wading a pool in the Subway, Zion National Park.
David Gordon wading a pool in the Subway, Zion National Park.

Also known as the Left Fork of North Creek, the top-to-bottom descent (from the Wildcat Canyon Trailhead to the Left Fork Trailhead) has long sections that do not follow a maintained trail. After following the Wildcat Canyon Trail and turning south onto the Northgate Peaks Trail, watch for a small sign indicating the start of the Subway route. Marked by occasional cairns, it still requires route-finding to descend Russell Gulch, which becomes quite steep and loose near its bottom. Once in the Left Fork Canyon, you will clamber over giant boulders in a twisting canyon of wildly sculpted, kaleidoscopic walls, wade or swim a few deep, frigid pools (bring a dry suit, which can be rented in Springdale), and make three rappels (the longest of them 30 feet, the other two much shorter).

It can also be dayhiked partway from the bottom up, a strenuous more than six miles out-and-back from the Left Fork Trailhead on Kolob Terrace Road, getting as far as the famous subway tunnel before you have to turn around at the base of cliffs. The bottom-up hike features rugged terrain and a creek crossing in each direction. But that’s a very different experience because you see much less of the canyon’s best sections—and you encounter a lot more people. It also requires a one-day permit. If you have the skills for it, do this hike from top to bottom.

See my story “Luck of the Draw, Part 1: Hiking Zion’s Subway,” for many photos and details on how to get a popular one-day permit for this classic hike. Don’t enter the Subway with rain in the forecast.

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.”

Big Spring in The Narrows, Zion National Park.
Big Spring in The Narrows, Zion National Park.

The Riverside Walk and The Narrows

2.2 to 10 miles round-trip, nearly flat
Trailhead: Temple of Sinawava (shuttle bus stop no. 9)

Along the Riverside Walk, in The Narrows, Zion National Park.
Along the Riverside Walk, in The Narrows, Zion National Park.

One of the most magnificent and unique hikes in the national parks, the Narrows begins at the upper end of Zion Canyon, where the North Fork of the Virgin River has, over eons, carved out a canyon with sheer walls that tower up to a thousand feet overhead and, at times, squeeze so closely together that they turn daylight to dusk. Hiking much of the time in the river, you will find yourself craning your neck up at a canyon that changes with every bend. Springs create waterfalls pouring from rock walls, nurturing hanging gardens in the desert.

The hike begins on the flat, wheelchair-accessible, 1.1-mile (one-way) Riverside Trail, itself a fine, very easy hike, paralleling the river beneath red cliffs and shady cottonwood trees whose leaves turn golden in fall. At the end of that trail, you enter the river and follow it upstream, turning back anytime; it’s usually easy to avoid any sections of deeper, slightly faster current. At Orderville Canyon, a narrow tributary about 2.5 miles from the trailhead (on the right when walking upstream), you enter the deepest and darkest portion of the Narrows, the roughly two-mile-long stretch known as Wall Street, where the river often spans the canyon wall to wall. Wall Street ends just before Big Spring, roughly five miles up the Narrows, beyond which hiking is prohibited without a backcountry permit.

Enormously popular, the lower Narrows teems with hundreds and sometimes thousands of dayhikers on hot days of late spring and summer, when the river is low and warmer. Scroll down to my insider tips for avoiding crowds when hiking in Zion; it includes two tips specific to the Narrows.

Hikers in the lower Narrows in Zion National Park.

You are often walking directly in the river, which is typically ankle- to calf-deep, occasionally up to thigh- or waist-deep, frequently with slippery cobblestones underfoot. That will slow your hiking pace more than expected for a flat hike. Use poles or a walking stick. The water is cold in spring and fall, and there’s little direct sunlight in the Narrows, where the temperature can be about 10 degrees cooler than in Zion Canyon; plus, the wind frequently blows down canyon, making it feel colder. Bring multiple clothing layers—especially if hiking in early morning in spring or fall—and if you don’t own canyoneering boots, neoprene socks, and dry pants, rent them in Springdale. (One rental place is located in the parking lot right across the footbridge leading into the park.) Don’t hike the Narrows with rain in the forecast.

Carry all of the drinking water you’ll need for the Narrows; the river is often murky. You can also refill water at Big Spring if you get that far; you may want to treat it, although I often drink spring water untreated when captured right at its source. (See my favorite water-filter bottles and other water treatment in my review of essential backpacking gear accessories.)

See my feature story “Luck of the Draw, Part 2: Backpacking Zion’s Narrows,” about a top-to-bottom, overnight trip down it.

Click here now to get my expert e-book to Backpacking Zion’s Narrows.

Hikers on the Hidden Canyon Trail in Zion National Park.
Todd Arndt and Jeff Wilhelm hiking the Hidden Canyon Trail in Zion National Park.

Hidden Canyon

2.2 miles round-trip, 1,000 vertical feet up and down
Trailhead: Weeping Rock (shuttle bus stop no. 7)

Note: Hidden Canyon has been closed since a major rockfall in 2019, with no indications of reopening, and remains inaccessible.

In a place with crazy, mind-boggling scenery around every corner, the 2.5-mile round-trip hike to Hidden Canyon is arguably the most beautiful hike under three miles in the park.

Beginning from the same trailhead as the Observation Point hike, the trail to Hidden Canyon diverges to the right less than a mile up. It ascends switchbacks and traverses the canyon wall, including a section traversing the cliff face that’s wide and safe but exposed.

It’s quite scenic all the way to the mouth of Hidden Canyon, where the trail officially ends. If you’re up for a little scrambling, continue beyond the mouth of Hidden Canyon into the slot canyon, where tight walls rise high overhead; I’ve seen an owl napping in a small tree in this slot canyon. Before long, you’ll reach a sign marking the turnaround point.

See below my tips on avoiding the crowds while hiking in Zion, which include a specific plan for combining Hidden Canyon with two of the other best hikes in Zion Canyon in a single, big dayhike (if the park reopens Hidden Canyon).

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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 above Zion Canyon in Zion National Park.

West Rim Trail

16.6 miles (top to bottom), about 800 vertical feet up and 3,600 feet down, or shorter variations
Trailheads: bottom end is the Grotto (shuttle bus stop no. 6), top end is the West Rim Trailhead near Lava Point

I’ve met longtime locals who call this their favorite trail in all of Zion, and it’s easy to see why. Stretching nearly 17 miles from near Lava Point off the Kolob Terrace Road to the Grotto in Zion Canyon, the West Rim Trail traverses a high plateau dividing the almost impenetrable labyrinth of canyons and mesas on its west side from the Narrows and Zion Canyon to the east and southeast. Some of the best backcountry viewpoints in the park are along this footpath.

It can be dayhiked or backpacked in either direction—though it’s mostly downhill going from top to bottom—or dayhiked out-and-back from the Grotto for as far as you’d like to go. The most scenic stretch of the West Rim Trail lies between Refrigerator Canyon (below Walter’s Wiggles and the spur trail to Angels Landing) and the upper junction with the Telephone Canyon Trail (just south of Potato Hollow). So you can see all of that on an out-and-back dayhike from the Grotto that’s the same distance as hiking the West Rim Trail from top to bottom, without requiring a shuttle—but of course, requiring you to hike up and down about 3,000 vertical feet.

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

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 three springs along the West Rim Trail— Beatty, Sawmill, and Cabin springs—are usually reliable, though they recharge slowly at times. Reach the upper West Rim Trailhead by driving 25 miles up Kolob Terrace Road, then turning onto the road to Lava Point and the West Rim Trailhead and continuing about two miles. That road get rough for standard cars in wet conditions, but you can start at Lava Point and hike down the road. Shuttle services are available in Springdale. Kolob Terrace Road is rendered impassable by snow in winter.

See my feature stories about backpacking in the Kolob Canyons and on the West Rim Trail with my family and a 50-mile dayhike across Zion from the Kolob Canyons to Zion Canyon and the East Rim Trailhead.

There are more dayhikes in Zion that could be on this list—not to mention backpacking trips and canyoneering adventures. Consider these 10 hikes a great starter list for a park you’ll want to explore further.

See all stories about Zion at The Big Outside, or scroll down to Zion on my All National Park Trips page. Planning to combine Zion and Bryce in one trip? See “The Best Hike in Bryce Canyon National Park.”

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Hiking Angels Landing: What You Need to Know https://thebigoutsideblog.com/hiking-angels-landing-what-you-need-to-know/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/hiking-angels-landing-what-you-need-to-know/#comments Tue, 13 Jan 2026 10:01:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=18317 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Thrilling, scenic, and enormously popular, an impressive feat of trail building, an intimidating and exposed scramble—these are some of the descriptions commonly given to Angels Landing in Zion National Park, all of them accurate. It also has a reputation as one of the scariest and most dangerous hikes in the National Park System—a claim that would seem somewhat overblown just by virtue of the fact that innumerable thousands of people, including many novice hikers, safely venture up and down it every year. For those willing to brave the exposure, the 5,790-foot summit offers arguably the best view of Zion Canyon.

Constructed nearly a century ago and listed on the National Register of Historic Places, now one of the classic dayhikes in America and certainly one of “The Best Hikes in Utah’s National Parks“ and “The 25 Best National Park Dayhikes,” Angels Landing is safe for anyone exercising reasonable caution and should be in the sights of every avid hiker. This story explains what you need to know about 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 teenage boy hiking Angels Landing, Zion National Park.
My son, Nate, hiking Angels Landing in Zion National Park.

I have hiked Angels Landing several times over the years—and taken my kids up it as young as age five. I’ve hiked it at times when the trail was packed with a conga line of hikers and at times when I’ve enjoyed it nearly to myself. I’ve seen the many faces of Angels Landing and enjoyed it every time.

The out-and-back hike begins from the Grotto Trailhead in Zion Canyon, shuttle stop number six on the free and frequent park shuttle buses that operate from mid-March through October. (Private vehicles are generally only permitted in upper Zion Canyon outside the season that the park shuttles operate.)

Due to the hike’s enormous popularity, Zion National Park launched on April 1, 2022, a permit system for dayhiking Angels Landing. A seasonal lottery held four times per year at recreation.gov makes permits available for three-month periods throughout the year. Key lottery dates for Zion’s two peak hiking seasons, spring and fall, are 13-25 for hiking permits from March 1 through May 31, held at recreation.gov/permits/4675310; and for hiking dates from Sept. 1 through Nov. 30, the lottery dates in 2025 were July 1-20 and held at recreation.gov/permits/4675325, but the lottery dates for fall 2026 have not been announced yet. The permit is only required for hiking the spur trail up Angels Landing; anyone can hike as far as Scout Lookout without a permit.

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A young girl hiking Angels Landing, Zion National Park.
My daughter, Alex, hiking Angels Landing, Zion National Park.

A separate lottery for dayhiking permits is held daily; apply for one before 3 p.m. Mountain Time the day before you want to hike it. Learn more about the lottery and find a link to the daily lottery at nps.gov/zion/planyourvisit/angels-landing-hiking-permits.htm.

Nearly five miles and 1,500 vertical feet round-trip, the route is paved for roughly its first two miles on the West Rim Trail, including the cool slot of Refrigerator Canyon and the 21 steep switchbacks known as Walter’s Wiggles. Then you reach Scout Lookout, at the beginning of the spur trail ascending the narrow, sandstone fin of Angels Landing, where hikers encounter steps carved into rock, steep scrambling, chain handrails anchored into the rock in the most intimidating spots, and drop-offs of 1,000 feet or more to each side.

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

A teenage boy hiking Angels Landing in Zion National Park.
My son, Nate, hiking Angels Landing in Zion National Park.

Anyone uncomfortable with the looks of Angels Landing can turn around at Scout Lookout. Beyond that point, many hikers who do not have a fear of heights generally have no trouble with the difficulty of the scrambling. There are fixtures in place in many spots to assist your ascent and descent.

The prime seasons are spring (April through June) and fall (mid-September through October), when temperatures are moderate and the trail is often dry. If the forecast calls for high temperatures (and to avoid the crowds), either start early in the morning, or if your party consists of strong hikers, wait until afternoon, when you’ll get more shade for the ascent and have beautiful, late-day sunlight slanting across the canyon for your summit view. Bring a headlamp for the descent and get off the Angels Landing spur trail in daylight. Avoid the hike in high winds, icy or wet conditions, or if lightning threatens.

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Angels Landing has been the scene of several fatalities from falls, but if done with caution in dry weather, it’s safe for adults and school-age kids.

See “The 10 Best Hikes in Zion National Park” and a menu of all stories about Zion National Park, including feature stories about a family backpacking trip, a 50-mile dayhike across the park, hiking Zion’s Subway, and backpacking Zion’s Narrows, plus all stories about national park adventures, hiking and backpacking in southern Utah, and family adventures at The Big Outside.

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The Best Backpacking Trips in Zion National Park https://thebigoutsideblog.com/the-best-backpacking-trips-in-zion-national-park/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/the-best-backpacking-trips-in-zion-national-park/#comments Wed, 07 Jan 2026 10:00:44 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=59760 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

If you invited all of the major Western national parks to a big family dinner, Zion would sit at the kids’ table. At a bit over 148,000 acres, Zion is dwarfed by the iconic wilderness parks that are the most sought-after by backpackers, like Yosemite (which is five times larger), Glacier (nearly seven times larger), and Grand Canyon (eight times larger), all of them with hundreds of miles of trails for backpackers to explore. But what Zion lacks in size it more than makes up for in breathtaking scenery—and for backpackers, some of the most unique, wonderful, and relatively easy multi-day hikes in the National Park System.

This story describes the best backpacking tips in Zion, based on my personal experience of doing all of these hikes on many visits there over more than three decades, including the 10 years I spent as a field editor for Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog.


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


A backpacker in The Narrows in Zion National Park.
David Gordon backpacking The Narrows in Zion National Park.

A Zion backcountry permit is one of the hardest to get in the National Park System. Permit reservations can be made at recreation.gov/permits/4675338 for trips in Zion’s wilderness, except for overnight trips through Zion’s Narrows, for which reservations are made at recreation.gov/permits/4675339. Both types of permits are reserved on this schedule: March 5 at 10 a.m. Mountain Time for trips between April 1 and June 30; June 5 at 10 a.m. for July 1 to Sept. 30; Sept. 5 at 10 a.m. for Oct. 1 to Dec. 31; and Dec. 5 at 10 a.m. for Jan. 1 to March 31.

Half of the backcountry campsites in Zion can be reserved—and usually get filled within minutes after becoming available each month—and half are available for walk-in permits, obtained in person no more than one day in advance. See my “10 Tips For Getting a Hard-to-Get National Park Backcountry Permit.”

Late March through May and mid-September through October are the prime seasons for backpacking in Zion, and the cottonwood trees in Zion Canyon turn golden in October. June through early September are typically too hot and heavy rainstorms are common in July and August, while snow prevents access to higher trails on the rims in winter and snowmelt raises the river level too high to backpack The Narrows through much of the spring.

A hiker on the West Rim Trail above Zion Canyon in Zion National Park.
David Ports hiking the West Rim Trail in Zion National Park.

The park’s free shuttle buses operate regularly between the visitor center, just inside the south entrance, to the end of the Zion Canyon Scenic Drive—which is usually closed to private vehicles—for most of the year. Be aware of the shuttle schedule and when the last bus leaves the trailhead where you plan to finish a hike. Commercial shuttle services in Springdale provide rides to trailheads outside Zion Canyon.

The park has been warning hikers and backpackers against drinking water from any river or stream in Zion National Park due to a toxic cyanobacteria bloom. You will have to carry enough water for any hike or as needed between springs in the park, where you should filter the water. See more information at nps.gov/zion/planyourvisit/toxic-cyanobacteria-bloom-in-the-virgin-river-and-the-streams-of-zion-national-park.htm.

See my expert e-books to several classic backpacking trips, including “The Complete Guide to Backpacking the Narrows in Zion National Park,” and my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you plan any of these hikes or any trip you read about at The Big Outside.

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

Looking for dayhikes? See “The 10 Best Hikes in Zion National Park.”

A backpacker in The Narrows in Zion National Park.
David Gordon backpacking The Narrows in Zion National Park. Click photo for “The Complete Guide to Backpacking The Narrows in Zion National Park.”

The Narrows

There are many great canyon hikes in the Southwest, but a tiny number compare with The Narrows—which certainly ranks among the very best backpacking trips in the Southwest and the 10 best backpacking trips in America. Generally hiked over two days top to bottom, the route descends 1,500 vertical feet over 16 miles from the upper trailhead at Chamberlain Ranch to the Temple of Sinawava Trailhead at the end of the road in Zion Canyon.

A backpacker in the Narrows in Zion National Park.
David Gordon backpacking on day one in the upper Narrows in Zion National Park.

This spellbinding adventure begins with easy hiking amid forested plateau country that offers no hints of the spectacle awaiting ahead. But you quickly enter and follow the North Fork of the Virgin River downstream, often hiking directly in the mostly ankle- to calf-deep water.

The canyon walls steadily rise higher and draw closer as you walk with the river deeper into the earth, sometimes wading pools up to thigh- or waist-deep. With the permit system limiting the number of backpackers, and dayhikers not permitted to hike from the bottom of The Narrows upstream beyond Big Spring (five miles up), you’ll enjoy a surprising amount of solitude—especially on day one—in this canyon that grows ever more spectacular. Water and tiny oases of greenery erupt from solid sandstone walls, which eventually reach a thousand feet tall and squeeze down to about 20 feet across in places where you’ll see only a slender strip of sky high overhead.

Early summer and fall are the prime seasons for backpacking The Narrows, which is frequently unsafe because of high water levels in April and May and sometimes into June, and during July and August, when heavy rainstorms are common.

Hiking in the river will slow your pace more than expected for a flat hike. Use trekking poles. The water is cold in spring and fall and with little direct sunlight in The Narrows, the temperature is often 10 or more degrees Fahrenheit cooler than in Zion Canyon; plus, the wind frequently blows down canyon, making it feel colder. Bring multiple clothing layers—especially if hiking in early morning in spring or fall—and if you don’t own canyoneering boots (which drain water and have traction for slippery cobblestones underfoot), neoprene socks, and dry pants, rent them in Springdale.

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

It’s popular and tough to get a permit for, but that’s because the park regulates the number of overnight hikers to preserve a sense of a wilderness experience: A friend and I saw only two other backpackers early on our first day, and no one else until we were a couple hours downstream on our second day.

My expert e-book “The Complete Guide to Backpacking The Narrows in Zion National Park” will tell you everything you need to know to plan and execute this classic backpacking trip.

See my feature story “Luck of the Draw, Part 2: Backpacking Zion’s Narrows,” with many more photos and a video, plus basic trip-planning information (though not nearly as much trip-planning detail as provided in my Narrows e-book). Like most stories about trips at this blog, reading that story in full is an exclusive benefit for paid subscribers to The Big Outside.

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Woman and two young children backpacking the West Rim Trail in Zion National Park.
My wife, Penny, with our kids, Nate and Alex, hiking up the West Rim Trail on a family backpacking trip in Zion National Park.

The West Rim Trail

The Narrows and Angels Landing are more famous, but some locals who know the park like their back yard (because it is) call the West Rim their favorite trail in Zion. A 16.6-mile hike with about 800 vertical feet uphill and 3,600 feet downhill from the upper trailhead at Lava Point, at 7,890 feet off Kolob Terrace Road, to the Grotto Trailhead in Zion Canyon (shuttle bus stop no. 6), the West Rim Trail begins with a traverse across a high plateau overlooking a mind-boggling labyrinth of canyons and mesas.

A mother and young daughter backpacking the West Rim Trail in Zion National Park.
My wife, Penny, and our daughter, Alex, backpacking the West Rim Trail in Zion National Park.

The trail’s nine backcountry campsites lie spread out along its higher elevations, all located above Cabin Spring (the lowest of three springs along the trail), where the trail begins a steep drop of 2,500 feet over 4.7 miles into Zion Canyon, zigzagging through a landscape of towering beehive rock formations and wildly colored cliffs and passing overlooks with some of the best views of Zion Canyon.

Hiking the West Rim Trail top to bottom, usually done as an overnight trip, although some hikers and runners do it in a day, offers the opportunity to tag the summit of Angels Landing—not merely one of the best hikes in Zion, but one the best hikes in Utah’s national parks and in the entire National Park System.

At Scout Lookout on the West Rim Trail, take the nearly half-mile spur trail that follows a knife-edge spine of rock to the summit of Angels Landing, where you’ll drink up a 360-degree panorama of Zion Canyon.

The lower West Rim Trail, mostly a paved sidewalk, descends steeply at times through the tight switchbacks of Walter’s Wiggles and the often shady and cool Refrigerator Canyon before reaching the floor of Zion Canyon.

See my feature stories about backpacking in the Kolob Canyons and the West Rim Trail with my family and a 50-mile dayhike across Zion from the Kolob Canyons to Zion Canyon and the East Rim Trailhead.

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A young girl hiking the La Verkin Creek Trail in Zion National Park.
My daughter, Alex, hiking the La Verkin Creek Trail in Zion National Park.

La Verkin Creek Trail

At the Lee Pass Trailhead in the Kolob Canyons area of Zion National Park, you get an immediate introduction to the enchanting scenery awaiting on the hike up the La Verkin Creek Trail, standing at an overlook of deep-red cliffs rising hundreds of feet tall, split by parallel canyons. (Tip: Drive a few minutes past the trailhead to the Kolob Canyons Viewpoint at the end of the road—you won’t regret it).

Plus, you’re starting out 2,000 feet higher in elevation than Zion Canyon, in an area of the park with cooler temperatures when it’s getting hot at the park’s lower elevations. Even more appealing, the Kolob Canyons draw far fewer people than the enormously popular trails in Zion Canyon and along the Zion-Mt. Carmel Highway.

La Verkin Creek in the Kolob Canyons of Zion National Park.
La Verkin Creek in the Kolob Canyons of Zion National Park.

A relatively easy, out-and-back hike of about 14 miles (more or less, depending on where you camp), with about 1,000 vertical feet both uphill and downhill, this is an ideal overnight or two-night hike for families with young kids and beginner backpackers but also a beautiful hike for anyone—and an opportunity to explore these remote canyons.

The trail follows perennial La Verkin Creek through a canyon with scattered cottonwood trees and lots of greenery, contrasting dramatically with the red cliffs. At 6.4 miles from Lee Pass, the trail reaches a junction with the Kolob Arch Trail, a 1.2-mile hike to an overlook of the 287-foot span, considered the world’s sixth largest, but you see it only from a distance.

Like many Southwestern streams, La Verkin Creek’s level varies significantly throughout the year, often running high and brown with silt in spring, while mellowing to a much lower, quieter, and clearer stream by late summer and fall. It can be challenging to ford in spring and usually easy by fall, but fording isn’t necessary for a dayhike or overnight trip on the La Verkin Creek Trail—only if you want to continue south from La Verkin to Hop Valley and Kolob Terrace Road, and perhaps through Wildcat Canyon to the West Rim Trail.

There are 10 backcountry campsites between Lee Pass and the Kolob Arch Trail on the La Verkin Creek Trail and three more farther upstream, beyond the junction with the Hop Valley Trail at 6.7 miles from the trailhead. The Lee Pass Trailhead just over two miles from the Kolob Canyons entrance in the park’s northwest corner, off exit 40 on I-15.

See my feature stories about backpacking in the Kolob Canyons and on the West Rim Trail and a 50-mile dayhike across Zion from the Kolob Canyons to Zion Canyon and the East Rim Trailhead.

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

A hiker on the West Rim Trail, Zion National Park.
David Ports hiking the West Rim Trail in Zion National Park.

Kolob Canyons to Zion Canyon

The Hop Valley in Zion National Park.
The Hop Valley in Zion National Park.

Want to take the best long backpacking trip in Zion? The 37-mile, north-to-south traverse from the Lee Pass Trailhead in the Kolob Canyons to the Grotto trailhead in Zion Canyon links up the La Verkin Creek, Hop Valley, Wildcat Canyon, and West Rim trails on a generally downhill route through these highlights of Zion’s backcountry, including, of course, Angels Landing,

Typically done in four days, this trip’s scenery justifies its logistical complications, such as transportation (there are commercial shuttle services) and limited safe water sources. But the few springs along the route as well as the opportunities to cache water at the Hop Valley or Wildcat trailhead on Kolob Terrace Road, approximately halfway through the trip, and replenish again in Zion Canyon, enable completing this hike without carrying onerous water weight. Seasonal timing is also key and springs often flow stronger from March through May than in the fall.

Hike “The 10 Best National Park Backpacking Trips
and “The 10 Best Backpacking Trips in the Southwest.”

 

A hiker on the Hidden Canyon Trail in Zion National Park, a short side hike off the Observation Point/East Rim Trail that's currently closed.
Jeff Wilhelm hiking the Hidden Canyon Trail in Zion, a short side hike off the Observation Point/East Rim Trail that’s currently closed.

Zion Traverse

An owl in Hidden Canyon, Zion National Park.
An owl in Hidden Canyon, Zion National Park.

An unforgettable multi-day hike with few peers in the Southwest or the entire country—and a classic, one-day challenge for ultra-fit dayhikers and trail runners—the roughly 50-mile, north-south traverse of Zion from the Lee Pass Trailhead to the East Entrance Trailhead crosses the entire park, extending the Kolob Canyons to Zion Canyon trek (above) onto the East Rim Trail.

Unfortunately, the Observation Point Trail has been closed since a major rockfall in 2019, with no indications of reopening. The usual access, the Observation Point/East Rim Trailhead and the Weeping Rock shuttle stop no. 7 in Zion Canyon, are closed, barring access from there to the upper section the East Rim Trail as well as two great hikes, Observation Point and Hidden Canyon—and shutting down, for now, a critical link from the West Rim Trail to the East Rim Trail that’s necessary to complete the full Zion traverse.

For dayhikers and backpackers who want to access the East Rim area and Observation Point, there is an alternative route from the East Mesa Trailhead, at about 6,500 feet outside the park. See “The 10 Best Hikes in Zion National Park.”

See all stories about backpacking in Zion National Park at The Big Outside.

 

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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.


Are you a fan of the beautiful photos you see at The Big Outside? Click here now
to get professional-quality prints of this blog’s most inspiring images!


A backpacker hiking the Ptarmigan Tunnel Trail above Elizabeth Lake in Glacier National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking the Ptarmigan Tunnel Trail above Elizabeth Lake in Glacier. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan your Glacier trip.

Two Hikes in Glacier National Park

Distance of each: 90-94 miles, with shorter variations
Difficulty of each: 3

Backpackers hiking the Continental Divide Trail in Glacier National Park.
Backpackers hiking the Piegan Pass Trail in Glacier National Park. Click photo for my e-books to backpacking in Glacier and other parks.

With rivers of ice pouring off of craggy mountains and cliffs, deeply green forests, over 760 lakes offering mirror reflections of it all, megafauna like bighorn sheep, mountain goats, elk, moose, and grizzly and black bears, and over a million acres in Montana’s Northern Rockies, most of it wilderness, little wonder that Glacier is so popular with backpackers.

Two big hikes of over 90 miles—both of which have multiple possible shorter variations—deservedly grace this top 10 list. On both, my companions and I saw all of those sights and large beasts described above—yes, including grizzlies—and enjoyed a surprising degree of solitude even while hitting many of the park’s highlights.

One, a 90-miler through northern Glacier, split into 65- and 25-mile legs, was a variation of a hike known as the Northern Loop, following a route I customized to hit some of Glacier’s best scenery, including the entire Highline Trail, the Many Glacier area, Piegan Pass and Stoney Indian Pass, the Ptarmigan Wall and Tunnel, and some of the park’s finest lakes and most-remote wilderness.

On the second hike, three friends and I backpacked about 94 miles through Glacier, from Chief Mountain Trailhead at the Canadian border in the park’s northeast corner to Two Medicine, combining parts of the primary and alternate routes of the Continental Divide Trail, and adding the high, alpine trail from Pitamakan Pass to Dawson Pass above Two Medicine. Yet again, we saw bighorn sheep, mountain goats, black bears, moose, and a griz, and heard elk bugling almost every morning and evening (because it was September)—not to mention vistas unlike anywhere else in America.

See my story about the two-stage, 90-mile hike “Descending the Food Chain: Backpacking Glacier National Park’s Northern Loop,” my story “Wildness All Around You: Backpacking the CDT Through Glacier” about the 94-mile hike, and “Déjà vu All Over Again: Backpacking in Glacier National Park,” about my most recent, weeklong hike in Glacier on a variation of the CDT route.

Get my expert e-books to backpacking Glacier’s Northern Loop and the CDT through Glacier.

A backpacker on the Rockwall Trail, Kootenay National Park, Canada.
My wife, Penny, backpacking the Rockwall Trail in Kootenay National Park, Canada.

And check out “10 Backpacking Trips for Solitude in Glacier National Park,” “How to Get a Permit to Backpack in Glacier National Park,” and all stories about backpacking in Glacier at The Big Outside.

Close Runners-Up:

Think of the Canadian Rockies this way: They resemble Glacier but with more and bigger glaciers and covering a much vaster area. For much of its distance, the 34-mile Rockwall Trail in Kootenay National Park passes below a long chain of sheer cliffs and mountains that conjure images of numerous El Capitans lined up in a row, but with thick tongues of glacial ice pouring off them. And the 27-mile Skyline Trail in Jasper National Park remains above treeline for more than half its distance, with nearly constant panoramas of massive walls of rock and a sea of mountains in every direction.

Retaining a surprising degree of anonymity considering that they’re situated between Glacier and Yellowstone, the Beartooth Mountains rise to over 12,000 feet and are most uniquely characterized by high, rolling, alpine plateaus over 10,000 feet. Like Glacier, the Beartooths have deep, glacier-carved canyons with remnant patches of ancient ice, and are home to moose, mountain goats, bighorn sheep, elk, bald eagles, gray wolves, black bears, and grizzlies—plus hundreds of trout-filled alpine lakes. See my story “Backpacking the High and Mighty Beartooth Mountains.”

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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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The 12 Best Backpacking Trips in the Southwest https://thebigoutsideblog.com/the-10-best-backpacking-trips-in-the-southwest/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/the-10-best-backpacking-trips-in-the-southwest/#comments Sat, 20 Dec 2025 10:00:15 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=21800 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

We all love the majesty of mountains. But the vividly colored, sometimes bizarre, often incomprehensible geology of the Southwest canyon country enchants and inspires us in ways that words can only begin to describe. And while you will find very worthy dayhikes and even roadside eye candy in classic parks like Grand Canyon, Zion, and Canyonlands, you really have to put on a backpack and probe more deeply into those parks—and other canyon-country gems you may not know much about—to get a full sense of the scale, details, and hidden mysteries of these mystical landscapes.

Drawing from more than three decades of chasing the best backpacking trips in the Southwest—including the 10 years I spent as a field editor for Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog—I’ve put together this list of my picks for the 12 very best multi-day hikes in America’s Southwest canyon country, from its acknowledged gems to trips you may not have heard of. While I’ve listed the trips in a specific order, I don’t intend that as a quality ranking. They all deserve five stars.


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


A backpacker at a waterfall on the Deer Creek Trail in the Grand Canyon.
Jeff Wilhelm at a waterfall on the Deer Creek Trail, along the Thunder River-Deer Creek loop in the Grand Canyon.

The descriptions and photos below all link to stories at The Big Outside that have more images and information about these trips (most of which require a paid subscription to read in full)—including detailed tips on planning each one yourself and when to apply for a backcountry permit, which is generally months in advance of a spring or fall trip.

See also “The 5 Southwest Backpacking Trips You Should Do First,” my expert e-books to some of the trips described below, and my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you plan any of these adventures, variations of them, or any trip you read about at The Big Outside.

I’d love to read your thoughts about my list—and your suggestions for trips that belong on it. Please share them in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

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

A backpacker standing at Ooh-Ah Point on the Grand Canyon's South Kaibab Trail.
Todd Arndt standing at Ooh-Ah Point on the Grand Canyon’s South Kaibab Trail. Click photo for my e-book “The Best First Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon.”

Rim to Rim Across the Grand Canyon

Bright Angel Creek along the Grand Canyon's North Kaibab Trail.
Bright Angel Creek along the Grand Canyon’s North Kaibab Trail.

Most multi-day hikes, including some of the best, feature stretches of hours at a time that are ordinary. Not the Grand Canyon. With huge physical relief and so little vegetation to obstruct views in this desert environment—except for brief stretches of forest at the South and North rims—there’s never a dull moment as you traverse a cross-section of a chasm stretching 277 miles long and averaging a mile deep and 10 miles across (as the crow flies—hiking distances on winding trails are much greater). It’s undoubtedly one of the most unique and spectacular treks in the world.

Although most trails here are quite rugged—and some routes on the map are not even maintained—the three so-called “corridor” trails, while strenuous, are maintained, don’t present the kind of scary exposure or difficult scrambling found on other trails, and have more frequent water availability. The typically three-day hike crossing from rim to rim (one-way, can be done in either direction) via the South Kaibab and North Kaibab trails is 21 miles with over 10,600 feet of cumulative ascent and descent; via the Bright Angel and North Kaibab, it’s 23.5 miles with over 10,100 feet of cumulative ascent and descent.

See my stories “Fit to be Tired: Hiking the Grand Canyon Rim to Rim in a Day,” “A Grand Ambition, or April Fools? Dayhiking the Grand Canyon Rim to Rim to Rim,” and all stories about South Rim backpacking trips at The Big Outside.

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

A backpacker on day two in The Narrows of Zion National Park.
David Gordon backpacking on day two in The Narrows, Zion National Park. Click photo for my e-book to backpacking Zion’s Narrows.
A backpacker in the upper section of Zion's Narrows.
David Gordon backpacking on day one in Zion’s Narrows.

The Narrows, Zion National Park

One of the most uniquely magnificent and coveted hikes in the National Park System, The Narrows of the North Fork of the Virgin River in Zion squeeze down to the width of a hobbit’s living room in places, with walls of golden, crimson, and cream-colored sandstone that rise as much as a thousand feet tall. 

On this 16-mile, top-to-bottom hike—typically done in two days—you’ll walk in the shallow river most of the time and see very little direct sunlight, marveling at the constantly changing canyon and natural oddities like a waterfall pouring from cracks in solid rock, creating a hanging garden.

Enormously popular, the lower end of the Narrows teems with hundreds and sometimes thousands of dayhikers on hot days of late spring through early fall, when the river is warm and low. Many of those people don’t walk more than a mile or two upriver, while some go as far as Big Spring, at mile five, the farthest point dayhikers can venture without a wilderness permit. The hauntingly quiet upper Narrows can feel remarkably lonely.

Not surprisingly, this unrivaled adventure ranks among “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips” and “My 25 Most Scenic Days of Hiking Ever,” and our campsite in The Narrows graces my list of 25 favorite backcountry campsites.

See my story “Luck of the Draw, Part 2: Backpacking Zion’s Narrows.”

Click here now to get my expert e-book
“The Complete Guide to Backpacking the Narrows in Zion National Park.”

Young kids backpacking over the Big Spring Canyon-Squaw Canyon pass in the Needles District, Canyonlands National Park.
Our kids backpacking over the Big Spring Canyon-Squaw Canyon pass in the Needles District, Canyonlands National Park.
Along the Chesler Park Trail.
My son, Nate, on the Chesler Park Trail.

The Needles District, Canyonlands National Park

Stratified cliffs stretch for miles. Stone towers, with bulbous crowns bigger around than the column on which they sit, seem ever at the verge of toppling over. Multi-colored candlesticks of Cedar Mesa sandstone, in more hues than Crayola has yet replicated, loom 300 feet tall, forming castle-like ramparts.

Trails marked by zigzagging lines of stone cairns lead across waves of slickrock slabs, up narrow water runnels and calf-pumping ramps. In the Needles District of Canyonlands National Park, trails ignore the axiom of Euclidian geometry that the shortest distance between two points is a straight line. Hikers there navigate a maze without walls.

The Needles District encompasses a high plateau split by canyons. Erosional forces working over unfathomable gulfs of time formed this arid and tortured landscape; but it looks more like the work of giant children squeezing mud from their fists. That network of trails creates multiple options for short, relatively easy, but strikingly scenic backpacking trips and dayhikes through The Needles.

See my story “No Straight Lines: Backpacking and Hiking in Canyonlands and Arches National Parks.”

Want to read any story linked here, including my tips on planning these trips?
Join now for full access to ALL stories and get a free e-book!

 

Backpackers in the narrows of Paria Canyon.
Backpackers in the narrows of Paria Canyon.

Paria Canyon and Buckskin Gulch

A backpacker hiking down southern Utah's Buckskin Gulch.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking southern Utah’s Buckskin Gulch.

For much of the first three days of the five-day descent of Paria Canyon, you pass through its twisting narrows, where walls of searing, orange-red sandstone shoot up for hundreds of feet, so close together at times that a person can cross from one side to the other in a dozen strides.

Sunshine often ignites the upper walls and reflects warm light downward, painting every wave of rock in a subtly different hue. You’re often walking in the shallow river, and pockets of quicksand add an adventurous element to this trek.

The 38-mile hike down Paria Canyon has become famous among backpackers for its towering walls painted wildly with desert varnish, massive red rock amphitheaters and arches, hanging gardens where the few springs in the canyon gush from rock, and sandy benches for camping, shaded by cottonwood trees.

It’s done alone or combined with its 16-mile-long tributary slot canyon, Buckskin Gulch—where the walls, in spots, are barely wider than a person.

See my stories “Not a Dull Moment: Backpacking Buckskin Gulch and Paria Canyon” and “The Quicksand Chronicles: Backpacking Paria Canyon.”

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

A backpacker above Crack-in-the-Wall, Coyote Gulch, Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument, Utah.
A backpacker above Crack-in-the-Wall, Coyote Gulch, Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument, Utah.

Coyote Gulch, Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument

A waterfall in Coyote Gulch.
A waterfall in Coyote Gulch.

On a two-family, roughly 15-mile backpacking trip through Coyote Gulch, we hiked across ancient, petrified dunes; squeezed through a less-than-shoulder-width, 100-foot-long slot called Crack-in-the-Wall (which was fun and not as hard as it sounds); and stood at a cliff top overlooking a desert landscape of redrock towers and cliffs, including Stevens Arch, measuring some 220 feet across and 160 feet tall. And that was just in the first hour.

One of the Southwest’s easier backpacking trips—because of its short distance, lack of a narrows creating flash-flood potential, and the presence of a perennial stream (read: you don’t have to carry several pounds of water)—Coyote Gulch features a natural bridge, two of the region’s most distinctive natural arches, and one deeply overhanging wall some 200 feet tall with amazing echo acoustics.

Coyote’s sheer walls at times loom close and you walk in the creek; elsewhere, the upper canyon walls spread a quarter-mile apart and rise up to 900 feet overhead. In a sense, Coyote delivers a complete—and beginner-friendly—canyon-hiking experience.

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

Coyote Gulch is one of “The 5 Southwest Backpacking Trips You Should Do First.”

A backpacker on the Tonto Trail above the Colorado River in the Grand Canyon.
Mark Fenton on the Tonto Trail above the Colorado River in the Grand Canyon. Click on the photo to get my e-book “The Best Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon.”

The Grand Canyon’s ‘Best Backpacking Trip’

Wildflowers along the Grand Canyon's Escalante Route.
Wildflowers along the Grand Canyon’s Escalante Route.

Whoa, you’re thinking—the “best backpacking trip in the entire Grand Canyon??” That was my initial reaction when a longtime backcountry ranger in the canyon whom I know, who’s hiked every mile of trail in the park, described this 74-mile route from the South Kaibab Trailhead to Lipan Point to me using those words. I mean, every hike in this place is amazing, right?

Click here now for my expert e-book to the best backpacking trip in the Grand Canyon.

Then I backpacked it and found myself agreeing with him.

Besides the fact that the South Kaibab is one of the absolute best hikes in the entire National Park System, this route—which has shorter alternatives—follows one of the of the prettiest and most adventurous “trails” (if it can be called that) in the canyon, the Escalante Route, and incorporates the little-traveled and beautiful Beamer Trail, as well as another rim-to-river footpath, the Tanner Trail.

There’s some tricky route-finding and exposed scrambling, and water sources are sporadic—this high-level adventure is better for experienced and fit backpackers, ideally with a previous GC or other Southwest backpacking trips under their belts.

But you’ll enjoy some of the best backcountry campsites you’ve ever spent a night in, including beaches on the Colorado River (with the prospect of mooching real food from a river party).

See “The Best Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon,” “10 Epic Grand Canyon Backpacking Trips You Must Do,” and all stories about backpacking in the Grand Canyon at The Big Outside.

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

Backpackers in Aravaipa Canyon, Arizona.
Backpackers in Aravaipa Canyon, Arizona.

Aravaipa Canyon

A backpacker hiking into Arizona's Aravaipa Canyon.
Todd Arndt backpacking into Arizona’s Aravaipa Canyon from the West Trailhead.

Just 12 miles long from its west trailhead to its east one, southern Arizona’s Aravaipa Canyon captures enough water flowing out of the Galiuro Mountains to sustain a vibrant, perennial stream and an oddity in the Grand Canyon state: a desert oasis, where cottonwood trees taller and more abundant than you’ll see in most Southwest canyons line both creek banks.

The lush greenery contrasts starkly against redrock walls that rise as much as 700 feet above the creek. But high up the canyon walls and the often-dry side canyons, the environment shifts abruptly to that of the surrounding, vast Sonoran Desert, with saguaro occupying the numerous cliff ledges like thousands of spectators in a strangely steep-sided, long, narrow, and winding stadium.

With no maintained trail in the canyon, backpackers follow whatever user trails get beaten into the sandy ground—or, more often than not hike directly in Aravaipa Creek, splashing through water that ranges from not too cold to chilly and rarely up to calf-deep. The max stay permitted is two nights and most backpackers set up a base camp and dayhike to explore this unique and truly lovely canyon.

See my story “Backpacking the Desert Oasis of Aravaipa Canyon.”

On the same Southwest trip that we backpacked in Aravaipa Canyon in early April, three of us from that group also backpacked one of the finest three-day sections of the Arizona Trail, Passage 16, during a wildflower superbloom. See my story about that surprisingly beautiful hike.

Planning a backpacking trip? See “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips
and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”

 

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

Owl and Fish Canyons, Bears Ears National Monument

A pool of clear water in Fish Canyon, Bears Ears National Monument, Utah.
A pool of clear water in Fish Canyon, Bears Ears National Monument, Utah.

The loop through Owl and Fish canyons, in southeastern Utah’s Bears Ears National Monument, begins and ends with rugged hiking and scrambling to enter and exit both canyons: You will use your hands at times going up and down, including the final, 12-foot corner in a cliff to reach the rim of Fish Canyon (aided by a fixed rope dangling down the cliff). The upper sections of both canyons present very steep terrain and, especially in Owl Canyon, debris from flash floods like knots of crushed vegetation and boulders bigger than a car to navigate around.

This hike isn’t for anyone who’s uncomfortable with mild to moderate exposure. But these canyons evoke better-known places in southern Utah, with tall, red cliffs, towers, the striking amphitheater surrounding Nevills Arch (see lead photo at top of story), rippled slickrock, pour-offs and seasonal waterfalls, flowering cacti, cottonwoods, and a surprising abundance of seasonal, clear water in parts of both canyons.

Just 15 to 17 miles, hiked in two to three days, Owl and Fish canyons offer incredible scenery (and night skies), solitude, and a permit that’s easier to get than for better-known Southwest backpacking trips. That’s a rare find.

See my story “Backpacking Southern Utah’s Owl and Fish Canyons” and all stories about backpacking in Utah at The Big Outside.

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

A hiker on the West Rim Trail above Zion Canyon in Zion National Park.
David Ports hiking the West Rim Trail above Zion Canyon in Zion National Park.

Traversing Zion National Park

La Verkin Creek in Zion National Park.
La Verkin Creek in Zion National Park.

Other Southwestern parks have natural arches, spires, and ancient cliff dwellings, but none really matches Zion’s grandeur: the giant walls of white and blood-red rock, with striations rippling across vast spans of sandstone.

While the park is best known for the 2,000-foot-tall cliffs of Zion Canyon and the justifiably popular dayhike up Angels Landing (which I consider one of the best dayhikes in the entire National Park System), backpacking a nearly 50-mile, north-south traverse takes you on a grand tour of this flagship park. And it can be broken into sections for shorter, beginner-friendly trips.

From Lee Pass Trailhead in the Kolob Canyons, where burgundy cliffs rise above verdantly green stream bottoms, you’ll pass between the black-streaked, red walls of Hop Valley, and follow the West Rim Trail—considered by some Zion aficionados the park’s best—high above a maze of deep, white-walled canyons.

After descending a sidewalk-wide footpath blasted out of cliffs, the traverse passes Angels Landing—a must-do side trip—before crossing Zion Canyon and taking the East Rim Trail past Weeping Rock, through Echo Canyon, and past the white beehive cliffs of the park’s east side.

See all stories about Zion National Park at The Big Outside, including “Pilgrimage Across Zion: Traversing a Land of Otherworldly Scenery” and “Mid-Life Crisis: Hiking 50 Miles Across Zion in a Day.”

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

 

A backpacker along the Colorado River on the Grand Canyon's Thunder River-Deer Creek Loop.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking along the Colorado River on the Grand Canyon’s Thunder River-Deer Creek Loop.

Thunder River-Deer Creek Loop, Grand Canyon

Deer Creek Falls in the Grand Canyon.
Deer Creek Falls in the Grand Canyon.

Yes, this top-10 list has three hikes in the Big Ditch—and it could justifiably have more. There is no place like the Grand Canyon, period. But of all the backpacking trips I have taken there, the most unique, varied, and magical just may be this rugged and remote, 25-mile loop off the North Rim.

Long on the radar of in-the-know backpackers and river-rafting parties taking side hikes, the Thunder River-Deer Creek Loop has an unusual abundance of a rare element in much of the canyon: water.

The two perennial creeks and one river (not counting the Colorado River, which this hike follows for a few miles) pour over some of the Grand Canyon’s loveliest waterfalls (see the photo near the top of this story), course through sculpted narrows, and nurture oases of trees and vegetation.

Descending a vertical mile to the Colorado River and then climbing back up again, on often-rugged trails, with seasons limited by road access and heat often challenging to put it mildly, this hike is no walk in the park—which is why many backpackers take four days or more to complete it. But it packs in all the qualities you go to the Grand Canyon for.

See my feature story “Backpacking the Grand Canyon’s Thunder River-Deer Creek Loop,” “10 Epic Grand Canyon Backpacking Trips You Must Do,” and all all stories about backpacking in the Grand Canyon at The Big Outside.

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

 

A backpacker hiking above Death Hollow on the Boulder Mail Trail in southern Utah's Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument.
Todd Arndt backpacking above Death Hollow on the Boulder Mail Trail in southern Utah’s Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument.

Death Hollow Loop, Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument

Backpackers hiking down Death Hollow in southern Utah's Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument.
David Gordon and Todd Arndt backpacking down Death Hollow in southern Utah’s Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument.

From crossing a high, sand and slickrock plateau on the Boulder Mail Trail, to descending the sometimes narrow and always dramatic canyon of Death Hollow, and finally ascending the upper canyon of the Escalante River between soaring, overhanging walls of red, brown, and cream-colored rock painted with desert varnish, the 22-mile Death Hollow Loop northeast of the town of Escalante delivers a primer on the rugged and adventurous character of a host of desert Southwest landscapes.

The Boulder Mail Trail’s circuitous route over waves of rippling Navajo Sandstone repeatedly rises and falls steeply—but nothing compares to the overlook of Death Hollow just before the trail plunges into it. Death Hollow poses flash-flood risk and, in the best conditions, involves walking in cold water ranging from below the ankles to mid-thigh or deeper—when you successfully skirt the deepest pools—with challenging obstacles and possibly wind blowing up or down the canyon to compound the water’s chill. Then there’s the poison ivy, which is, well, hard to exaggerate about.

But hit this route in good weather and safe water levels and you will be blown away by it.

See my story “Backpacking Utah’s Mind-Blowing Death Hollow Loop.”


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to get professional-quality prints of this blog’s most inspiring images!


A backpacker at the Maze Overlook in the Maze District, Canyonlands National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm at the Maze Overlook in the Maze District, Canyonlands National Park.

The Maze District, Canyonlands National Park

Hikers on the Pete's Mesa Route in the Maze District, Canyonlands National Park.
Todd Arndt and Jeff Wilhelm hiking the Pete’s Mesa Route in the Maze District, Canyonlands National Park.

Descending the trail off Maze Overlook, we followed a wildly circuitous trail across slickrock, marked by cairns but otherwise unobvious and not visible on the ground, winding below redrock cliffs and towers, past mounds of shattered boulders resembling ancient ruins, and along the sloping rims of giant bowls of rippled stone. In several spots, we removed and lowered our packs to scramble through tight crevices or downclimb a ladder of shallow footsteps chiseled into a sandstone cliff face.

That was on the second morning of our five-day backpacking trip into the Maze—and it came after we had lingered long over the panorama at the brink of the white cliffs of Maze Overlook, above the vast, chaotic sweep of sandstone fins, towers, and canyons that could only be called the Maze. A very rugged, remote, and hard-to-reach corner of the Southwest, with few water sources that can dry up seasonally, the Maze is undoubtedly one of the hardest trips on this list—for many reasons.

But the adventurous character of its routes, jaw-dropping vistas and canyons, ancient pictographs, and deep solitude make it a holy grail for serious Southwest explorers.

See my story “Farther Than It Looks—Backpacking the Canyonlands Maze.”.

See all stories about hiking and backpacking in Southern Utah and national park adventures at The Big Outside.

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

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16 Photos From 2025 That Will Inspire Your Next Adventure https://thebigoutsideblog.com/16-photos-from-2025-that-will-inspire-your-next-adventure/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/16-photos-from-2025-that-will-inspire-your-next-adventure/#respond Sat, 13 Dec 2025 17:28:31 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=69197 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

How was your 2025? I hope you got outdoors as much as possible with the people you care about—and you enjoyed adventures that inspired you. I’m sharing in this story photos from several backpacking and hiking trips I took this year, from the Grand Canyon in March and southern Utah’s Capitol Reef National Park, Buckskin Gulch, and Paria Canyon in April to Idaho’s Sawtooths in August and again in early October and Wyoming’s Wind River Range in September.

That felt like a pretty good year to me (although there’s an argument to be made that my 2024 was better). But I’m very fortunate to be able to get out a lot.

Going through my photos always reminds me not just about the details of these experiences and places—but most of all, what’s most important in my life and why I strive to make getting outdoors a top priority. I know you do, too—that’s why you read my blog.


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


Morning at Skull Lake in the Wind River Range, Wyoming.
Morning at Skull Lake in the Wind River Range, Wyoming.

The photos in this story are selected images from my 2025 trips. Whether you want to learn more to take any of them yourself or simply draw some inspiration from them, I think you’ll enjoy this little escape.

Scroll through the photos and short anecdotes from each trip below. Some include links to stories about those places that I’ve already posted—many of which require a paid subscription to The Big Outside to read in full, including my tips and information on how to plan and take those trips. Watch for my upcoming stories about the other places described below. Click any photo to learn more about that trip.

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

 

Dawn at Spangle Lake in Idaho's Sawtooth Mountains.
Dawn at Spangle Lake in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains. Click on photo to see this and many other images from the Sawtooth Mountains, and other places I’ve written about, that you can purchase as professionally printed enlargements for framing.

I can help you plan any of these trips or any others you read about at The Big Outside—giving you the benefit of my more than three decades of professional experience identifying, planning, and successfully pulling off great adventures. See my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you, and my expert e-books to some of America’s best backpacking trips.

I’d love to hear what you think of any of my photos or the places shown in them, or upcoming plans you have. Please share your thoughts in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

Enjoy my pictures and start now planning your adventures for 2026.

Put more adventure in your life starting today. Sign up now for my FREE email newsletter.

 

A backpacker hiking the Tonto Trail west of Hermit Canyon, high above the Colorado River in the Grand Canyon.
My wife, Penny, backpacking the Tonto Trail west of Hermit Canyon, high above the Colorado River in the Grand Canyon.

The Grand Canyon Tonto West to the Boucher Trail

In the last days of March, I returned yet again to a park where I have now backpacked and dayhiked in five of the past eight years (and several times further back in my past): the Grand Canyon. (And I just recently reserved a backcountry permit for another trip there in April 2026. I can’t get enough of it.) This time, with my wife, Penny, our 22-year-old daughter, Alex, and three friends—my longtime adventure partner David Ports, Penny’s great friend since college, Annie Black, and Alex’s close friend from college, Harper Meyer—we backpacked four days and roughly 36 miles from the Bright Angel Trailhead to the Hermit Trailhead, finishing via the notoriously steep Boucher Trail. And having now walked all of the major trails off the Grand Canyon’s South Rim, I can testify that the Boucher’s reputation is not exaggerated.

Besides starting on the park’s two most popular trails, the South Kaibab (David and I took this somewhat longer start) and the Bright Angel, our route followed a magnificent stretch of the 95-mile-long Tonto Trail west to Boucher Creek, crossing several tributary creek canyons with soaring cliffs and deep abysses and enjoyed three wonderful campsites, including one beside the Colorado River at Granite Rapids.

A backpacker hiking the Boucher Trail in the Grand Canyon.
My wife, Penny, backpacking the Boucher Trail in the Grand Canyon. Click photo to see “10 Epic Grand Canyon Backpacking Trips You Must Do,”

We also discovered that the Boucher is as exciting, varied, and breathtaking as it is steep in spots (but not the entire trail). Every time we lifted our eyes from the rocks and dirt at our feet in the steepest sections to look around, the scenery would slam the brakes on whatever focus we had on simply going up and hijack our full attention. The Boucher eventually levels off and makes a long traverse high above the grandest canyon, reminding me yet again that this place looks even better from a remote and lonely trail in the backcountry.

And on that traverse, we passed an established campsite that was an easy pick for my list of the best backcountry camps I’ve hiked past.

See my stories “Backpacking the Grand Canyon: Tonto West to Boucher Trail,” “10 Epic Grand Canyon Backpacking Trips You Must Do,” “How to Get a Permit to Backpack in the Grand Canyon,” all stories about backpacking in the Grand Canyon at The Big Outside, and my expert e-books to backpacking trips in the Grand Canyon and elsewhere.

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

A hiker standing atop Cassidy Arch in Capitol Reef National Park, Utah.
Jeff Wilhelm standing atop Cassidy Arch in Capitol Reef National Park, Utah.

Capitol Reef National Park

An April trip to southern Utah began with my friend Jeff Wilhelm and I dayhiking a roughly 10-mile traverse from the Grand Wash Trailhead on UT 24 to the eastern Cohab Canyon Trailhead on UT 24, including the spur trail to Cassidy Arch. That hike gave us a magnificent window onto Capitol Reef’s varied landscapes, taking us from canyon floors in Grand Wash and Cohab to the high plateau of the Frying Pan Trail and its sweeping views of the towers populating this part of the nearly 100-mile-long Waterpocket Fold.

I have written before that I consider Capitol Reef one of America’s most underappreciated national parks, and this hike demonstrates why.

A hiker on the Frying Pan Trail in Capitol Reef National Park, Utah.
Jeff Wilhelm hiking the Frying Pan Trail in Capitol Reef National Park, Utah.

Capitol Reef has become something of a regular stop for me, even if only for a day or two on a longer trip, because after more than 30 years of steadily exploring more of it, I’m still walking some trails there for the first time (this was my first time across the entire Frying Pan Trail and to Cassidy Arch), and there are others that I’m eager to walk again. The variety and striking natural wonder of this underappreciated gem of Utah’s canyon country keeps me coming back. It’s as nice as southern Utah’s other four parks—but not as crowded, especially once you hike at least a couple miles from a trailhead.

See “The Best Hikes in Capitol Reef National Park” and “The 15 Best Hikes in Utah’s National Parks,” and all stories about hiking and backpacking in southern Utah at The Big Outside.

Get full access to ALL stories at The Big Outside about these and many other trips,
including my expert tips on planning them, plus get a FREE e-book. Join now!

Buckskin Gulch and Paria Canyon

A backpacker hiking down southern Utah's Buckskin Gulch.
Jeff Wilhelm backpacking southern Utah’s Buckskin Gulch.

In mid-April, joined by friends David Gordon, Doug Jenkins, and Jeff Wilhelm, I backpacked an overnight hike down southern Utah’s Buckskin Gulch to its confluence with the canyon of the Paria River, which flows south into Arizona and empties into the Colorado River at Lees Ferry, the gateway to the Grand Canyon.

Then, having planned a longer hike but facing a forecast that promised to turn our lovely, sunny, warm weather abruptly into a full-blown snowstorm by afternoon on our second day, we pivoted upstream to finish at the White House Trailhead, the top end of Paria. (We finished as we had confidently planned we would, a couple of hours before the storm commenced—and very happy that we did.)

Unquestionably one of the best backpacking trips in the Southwest, these two canyons combine what’s often described as the country’s or the world’s longest slot canyon, Buckskin, with the much longer and more varied Paria Canyon, which itself has a narrows with high walls that extends for several miles.

I had first backpacked this exact same route more than 30 years ago (and Paria top to bottom, without Buckskin, about 10 years ago), and seeing Buckskin Gulch again after so much time made it feel almost brand new to me. Its walls, often slightly overhanging, rise to perhaps 200 feet high and the canyon widens briefly a few times. But it mostly remains a true, very narrow slot—sometimes barely wider than a person.

Gazing around, I was reminded that the greatest magic of slot canyons is how the diffused light paints the wildly rippled, orange and red walls in too many shades of those colors to quantify, as well as hues of brown and a deep black that looks like an oil spill—creating stark contrasts that delight and mystify the human eye and brain.

See my story about that trip “Not a Dull Moment: Backpacking Buckskin Gulch and Paria Canyon,” my story about a previous, two-family trip backpacking down the length of Paria Canyon, “The Quicksand Chronicles: Backpacking Paria Canyon,” and all stories about hiking and backpacking in southern Utah at The Big Outside.


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The unnamed lake where we camped in the lakes basin on the south side of Snowyside Peak, Sawtooth Mountains, Idaho.
The unnamed lake where we camped on our first night in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains in August.

The Sawtooth Mountains

In August, two good friends and regular backpacking compadres, Todd Arndt and Mark Fenton, joined my wife, Penny, and me on a four-day, roughly 31-mile, point-to-point backpacking trip through Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains—a range that’s become my home mountains, having explored it extensively for almost 30 years since I moved to Idaho, from numerous backpacking trips to big dayhikes, bagging a bunch of peaks (adding yet another new one to my list in 2025; see the bottom of this story), backcountry skiing, and rock climbing some classic routes.

And it pleases me to say that, for as much as I’ve already seen of the Sawtooths, on this trip we hiked through areas that were entirely new to me—as well as new to Penny and Todd, who’ve also explored these mountains a fair bit, and entirely new to Mark, on his first trip here. He came away from it loving this wilderness and eager to come back.

A backpacker hiking Trail 7092 to the pass on the Edith-Imogene Lakes Divide in the Sawtooth Mountains, Idaho.
My wife, Penny, backpacking Trail 7092 to the pass on the Edith-Imogene Lakes Divide in the Sawtooth Mountains, Idaho.

While most of our trip was on trails, we did hike over an off-trail pass that was steep at times but straightforward on one side and involved crossing some not-entirely stable talus on the side we descended; all in all, though, not bad. And that pass delivered us into a remote area of the Sawtooths that sees very few backpackers, despite an abundance of beautiful alpine lakes and more high passes with sweeping views of these sharply incised peaks. And Todd and I scrambled up a 10,000-foot summit, a very worthwhile and remote peak to bag (which I’ll describe in more detail in my upcoming story about this trip).

Watch for my upcoming story about this trip. Meanwhile, see “The Best Hikes and Backpacking Trips in Idaho’s Sawtooths” and all stories about backpacking in the Sawtooths at The Big Outside as well as my expert e-book “The Best Backpacking Trip in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains.”

I’ve helped many readers plan unforgettable backpacking trips in the Grand Canyon, Sawtooths, Wind River Range, and elsewhere. Want my help with your next trip? Click here.

Sunset at Lower Cook Lake on a solo backpacking trip in the Wyoming's Wind River Range in September.
Sunset at Lower Cook Lake on a solo backpacking trip in the Wyoming’s Wind River Range in September.

The Wind River Range Solo

In the first week of September, after a good friend and longtime regular backpacking partner regrettably had to back out of this trip due to a persistent injury, I embarked on my first solo multi-day hike in probably a couple of decades (mostly because I prefer good company and I’m fortunate to have a great bench of partners).

But I wouldn’t have canceled because it was in one of my very favorite mountain ranges in America: Wyoming’s Wind River Range. Excited for it despite not having company, I walked about 64 miles in six glorious days, much of it on trails all new to me, including a big piece of the Continental Divide Trail through the Winds—which, by the way, is widely considered among thru-hikers (at least among the sizable sample I’ve now met) one of the two best sections of the CDT, along with Glacier National Park.

And what an adventure it was.

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

The Winds are known for its constellation of alpine lakes—estimates include 1,300 name and 1,600 total lakes—and this trip delivered on that reputation even more than I expected: I camped by gorgeous waters every night and walked past an untold number of gorgeous lakes at the foot of big, rocky peaks.

Watch for my upcoming story about that trip. Meanwhile, see “The 10 Best Backpacking Trips in the Wind River Range” and all stories about backpacking in the Winds at The Big Outside.

The right gear makes any trip go better.
See “The 10 Best Backpacking Packs” and “The 10 Best Backpacking Tents.”

A hiker on the 10,716-foot summit of Mount Cramer, second-highest peak in the Sawtooth Mountains, Idaho.
Chip Roser on the 10,716-foot summit of Mount Cramer, second-highest peak in the Sawtooth Mountains, Idaho.

Hiking the Second-Highest Peak in Idaho’s Sawtooths

In the first week of October, with the early-morning temperature bottomed out at a bone-chilling 19° F, my friend Chip Roser and I the hit the trail walking as fast as we could—partly just to warm up, but also because we had a big day ahead of us: hiking the second-highest peak in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains, 10,716-foot Mount Cramer.

It was admittedly late in the season for hiking in the Sawtooths, but there wasn’t any snow yet at higher elevations and we had a forecast promising sunshine all day, comfortably cool temps, and little wind; and once the sun finally found us (we started early in the cold shade of the forest), we warmed up quickly and remained so all day. And what a day it was.

Morning at Hell Roaring Lake in the Sawtooth Mountains, Idaho.
A 20-degree morning at Hell Roaring Lake in the Sawtooth Mountains, Idaho.

From the Upper Hell Roaring Trailhead (requiring a high-clearance vehicle; otherwise, start at the Lower Hell Roaring Trailhead), we hiked Trail 7092 past a glassy-calm Hell Roaring Lake to the northeast corner of Imogene Lake. From there, we found a use trail leading to the start of the long scramble up the rocky east ridge of Cramer.

Cramer’s summit rises to a sharp point on a boulder resembling a very large arrowhead, From there, in the heart of the Sawtooths, you can see the entire range and pick out numerous other peaks and distinctive alpine lakes far below. We even ended that nearly 18-mile October hike, with more than 3,500 vertical feet of uphill and downhill, with a little daylight remaining.

By the way, if you’re interested in a great hike up the highest peak in the Sawtooths (and somewhat shorter than Cramer, but a full day), read about 10,751-foot Thompson Peak and other outstanding hikes in my story “The Best Hikes and Backpacking Trips in Idaho’s Sawtooths” (which I will update in 2026, adding this hike). And see all stories about backpacking in the Sawtooths at The Big Outside.

As you plan your trips for next year, see “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips,” “The 25 Best National Park Dayhikes,” my 25 all-time favorite backcountry campsites, and my Trips page at The Big Outside.

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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.

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

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.

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

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.

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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 the Maze in Canyonlands—A Photo Gallery https://thebigoutsideblog.com/photo-gallery-backpacking-the-maze-in-canyonlands/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/photo-gallery-backpacking-the-maze-in-canyonlands/#respond Fri, 03 Oct 2025 09:00:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=51949 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

With our first steps on the descent from Maze Overlook into the labyrinth of mostly dry desert canyons that comprise one of the greatest geological oddities in the National Park System—the Maze in Utah’s Canyonlands National Park—we had to remove and pass our backpacks over a ledge drop of several feet. But that was nothing compared to what lay ahead. Following a wildly circuitous trail marked by cairns but otherwise unobvious and not visible on the slickrock, we passed below redrock cliffs and towers, traversed the sloping rims of giant bowls of rippled stone, and several more times passed our packs to scramble through tight crevices and downclimb a ladder of shallow footsteps chiseled into a sandstone cliff face.

Taking nearly three hours to descend just a mile and 500 vertical feet, we reached the sandy bottom of the South Fork of Horse Canyon—and began searching for the one natural spring that we hoped would sustain us for the next three days.

Three friends and I took a five-day backpacking trip into the Maze in the first week of March, when we had warm sunshine much of the time and temps in the 40s and 50s most days, with nights in the teens and 20s. But most critically, we found water in a place where the few sources can go dry by later in spring.

And the date to apply for a permit to backpack there in spring is Nov. 10.


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


Hikers on the Chimney Route in the Maze District, Canyonlands National Park.
Pam Solon, Todd Arndt, and Jeff Wilhelm hiking the Chimney Route in the Maze District, Canyonlands National Park.

The trip presented us with surprises nearly every day. Mornings delivered beautiful sunrises setting fire to redrock cliffs and ice in our water bottles. Almost every night, the brilliant streak of the Milky Way spilled across the ink-black sky, a sight so clear and bright it felt almost alarming.

From a base camp for two nights near the first spring we found, surrounded by towering walls of desert varnish, we dayhiked a nine-mile loop that would prove more adventurous and scenic than I think any of us expected—even after the descent from Maze Overlook.

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A backpacker at a campsite in the Maze District, Canyonlands National Park, Utah.
Jeff Wilhelm at our second camp in the Maze District, Canyonlands National Park.

Following the Chimney Route past the Harvest Scene pictographs, we walked down a canyon that grew steeper and more rugged as we followed a cairned route zigzagging up ledges on a canyon wall. In spots, rocks stacked by trail builders act as step ladders, enabling us to clamber over the smooth lip of a high ledge or a pour over carved by water. That route brought us to the slender tower of Chimney Rock, which looks like hardened, dark-brown mud.

From Chimney Rock, we followed the Pete’s Mesa Route along a high, broad ridge, with a constant panorama of towers and side canyons choked with fallen rocks tumbling away to either side of us. The route eventually rolled abruptly off the tableland and we scrambled down short, vertical drops, using more step ladders of stacked rocks, reaching the bottom of another tight, anonymous side canyon and walking down it and back to our tents.

We saw one other person that entire day and only a handful of people in five days.

The gallery below features some of my photos from backpacking the Maze District in Canyonlands. Scroll below the gallery for the link to my story about this trip, which includes my expert tips on how to take it yourself, including how to obtain a backcountry permit.

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

See my feature story about this trip “Farther Than It Looks—Backpacking the Canyonlands Maze,” which, like many stories about trips at The Big Outside, includes my detailed tips on planning it yourself and requires a paid membership to read in full.

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

See all stories about Canyonlands National Park at The Big Outside.

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12 Wonderful National Park Adventures to Take With Kids https://thebigoutsideblog.com/10-favorite-national-park-adventures-with-kids/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/10-favorite-national-park-adventures-with-kids/#respond Sat, 27 Sep 2025 09:00:36 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=18610 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

America’s 63 national parks preserve over 52 million acres of uniquely beautiful and genuinely awe-inspiring places in nature, and the payoff for our country’s foresight in protecting them is a lifetime’s worth of unforgettable experiences—many of them entirely feasible, safe, and really fun for families with kids of all ages. Best of all, you’ll find that sharing these adventures will create your best times together as a family, as they have for mine.

And here’s an insider tip: These adventures aren’t just for families. Adults with a wide range of outdoors experience—including little to none—will find these trips thrilling, fascinating, and inspirational.

This story describes 12 of the very best adventures my family has taken, many of them personal favorites from among the countless trips I’ve taken over three decades as an outdoors writer, including the 10 years I spent as a field editor for Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog.


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


A teenage boy hiking Angels Landing in Zion National Park.
My son, Nate, hiking Angels Landing in Zion National Park.

Each trip description below offers a suggested minimum age—which will certainly vary based on every child’s (and parent’s) personal experience and comfort level—and links to a full feature story at The Big Outside, which share more images (and those stories require a paid subscription to read in full, including my detailed tips on planning each trip).

Not surprisingly, all of these trips require planning and making reservations months in advance. See my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you plan any trip you read about at this blog.

Please share your experiences, questions, and advice on any of these trips, or suggest your own favorite national park family adventures in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

Two school-age kids standing under the General Sherman Tree in Sequoia National Park.
My kids standing under the General Sherman Tree in Sequoia National Park.

Stand in the Shadow of a Giant Sequoia

Any Age

If you’re going to be a tree hugger, you might as well go big. The giant sequoias of Sequoia National Park can live more than 3,000 years, grow as tall as a 26-story building, and have a base diameter of 36 feet. The General Sherman Tree is the largest in the world at 52,508 cubic feet (1,487 cubic meters), 275 feet tall, and estimated to weigh 2.7 million pounds. The General Grant Tree is the second largest at 46,608 cubic feet (1,320 cubic meters). Try hugging them.

A young girl backpacking the High Sierra Trail above Hamilton Lakes, Sequoia National Park.
My daughter, Alex, backpacking the High Sierra Trail in Sequoia National Park (also the lead photo at the top of this story).

The Giant Forest in Sequoia contains half of the Earth’s largest trees, more than 8,000 sequoias. You can stand under scores of them, including the General Sherman Tree, on a hike of an hour or less. From Wolverton Road, off the Generals Highway, a half-mile trail leads to the General Sherman Tree. The 0.7-mile Big Trees Trail begins at the Giant Forest Museum.

Is your family ready for a bigger adventure? Read about my family’s 40-mile backpacking trip in Sequoia, where we had a wilderness giant sequoia grove all to ourselves, plus see photos of the General Sherman Tree and Grant Grove in my story “Heavy Lifting: Backpacking Sequoia National Park.” And see all stories about Sequoia National Park at The Big Outside.

Make every adventure better with my “10 Tips For Keeping Kids Happy and Safe Outdoors
and “5 Tips for Hiking With Young Kids from an Outdoors Dad.”

 

A hot spring in Midway Geyser Basin, Yellowstone National Park.
A hot spring in Midway Geyser Basin, Yellowstone National Park.

Feel the Magic of Yellowstone

A family at Grand Prismatic Spring in the Midway Geyser Basin, Yellowstone.
My family at Grand Prismatic Spring in the Midway Geyser Basin, Yellowstone.

Any Age

Since Americans first began exploring the Yellowstone region, people have stood in awe of its marvels: megafauna like elk, bison, and grizzly bears, spectacular waterfalls, and more than 10,000 geothermal features, including hot springs, mud pots, fumaroles, and at least 300 geysers—two-thirds of the planet’s known total.

We first took our kids to Yellowstone when they were four and two years old, and although they don’t remember that visit, they delighted in the animals and thermal features—and they could enjoy them because so many of Yellowstone’s highlights can be seen on short walks or hikes that are easy enough to do with very young kids.

Some of my favorite spots, like Grand Prismatic Spring, the park’s largest, in the Midway Geyser Basin, require only a short stroll on a boardwalk. An easy walking tour of Mammoth Hot Springs, the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone River, and even the Upper Geyser Basin (which includes Old Faithful) can be done in an hour or two.

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

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A raft floating the Green River through Stillwater Canyon in Canyonlands National Park.
A raft floating the Green River through Stillwater Canyon in Canyonlands National Park.

Float the Green River Through Canyonlands National Park

Ages 4 and Up

Our son was six and our daughter barely four when we took a five-day, five-family float trip mostly on the Green River in southern Utah’s Canyonlands National Park. From the put-in at Mineral Bottom through 52 miles of Stillwater Canyon on the Green and then four miles more on the Colorado River to the takeout at Spanish Bottom, the river slowly unfurls beneath a constant backdrop of soaring redrock cliffs and spires.

A hiker in early morning high above Stillwater Canyon on the Green River in Canyonlands National Park.
Mark Fenton hiking in early morning high above Stillwater Canyon on the Green River in Canyonlands National Park.

Our flotilla of rafts, two kayaks, and a canoe quickly morphed into a slowly drifting party of water-gun fights and occasional swims to cool off, interspersed with frequent moments of gazing at brilliantly red canyon walls rising hundreds of feet above us. Off the water, we took side hikes to high overlooks of the canyon and centuries-old Puebloan rock art and cliff dwellings and camped on sandy beaches and slickrock benches. You might even spot bighorn sheep scrambling around on the canyon’s precipitous rock faces.

The flat water is ideal for beginners, campsites are spacious and lovely, and the scenery is out of this world from put-in to takeout. Rentals of boats and river gear, plus shuttles to the put-in and from the takeout (via a very scenic motorboat tour) are available from local outfitters in nearby Moab.

See my story “Still Waters Run Deep: Tackling America’s Best Multi-Day Float Trip on the Green River” and all stories about floating the Green River at The Big Outside.

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My son, Nate, underneath Double Arch in Arches National Park.

Climb Into Natural Arches

Ages 5 and Up

Arches National Park in southeastern Utah has many geologic wonders to recommend it, but from a kid’s perspective, one of the coolest experiences is scrambling up underneath an arch like Double Arch in the park’s Windows Section or Partition Arch in Devils Garden—the first a short walk, the second a hike of two to three hours round-trip.

Skyline Arch in Arches National Park.
Skyline Arch in Arches National Park.

For short, easy walks to several arches, feasible with young kids, start in the Windows Section, where you can get up close and personal with Double Arch, Turret Arch, and South Window. For a longer but relatively flat hike of up to a half-day (although you can shorten it), explore Devils Garden, including Pine Tree, Navajo, and Partition arches, and the park’s longest, Landscape Arch.

Skyline Arch, which is a short hike but sits by itself and thus attracts fewer people, sits high on the wall of a narrow canyon, and you can scramble up the canyon’s opposite wall for a bird’s-eye view of the arch. If you have a full day, take a ranger-guided tour of the Fiery Furnace, a maze of narrow canyons.

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

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

 

A teenage boy hiking Angels Landing, Zion National Park.
My son, Nate, hiking Angels Landing in Zion National Park.

Hike Zion’s Breathtaking Trails

Ages 6 and Up

Even among America’s flagship national parks—gems like Yosemite, Grand Canyon, and Yellowstone—Zion stands out for having several dayhikes that would make the top 10 list of many avid hikers. Angels Landing, The Narrows, the West Rim Trail, Hidden Canyon, and Observation Point, to name just a handful that begin right in Zion Canyon, feature scenery that actually does justice to the adjective “breathtaking.” No other place really compares to Zion.

Woman and two young children backpacking the West Rim Trail in Zion National Park.
My wife, Penny, with our kids, Nate and Alex, hiking up the West Rim Trail on a family backpacking trip in Zion National Park.

If your family is ready for a multi-day backpacking trip, Zion offers some of the best in the national parks, including an overnight hike in the Narrows and trips of two to four days in the Kolob Canyons and on the West Rim Trail or combining those two areas of the park on a beautiful traverse. And among technical dayhikes that require appropriate gear and skills like rappelling and navigating and wading slot canyons with cold pools of water, few compare with Zion’s Subway.

These hikes and others range widely in distance, difficulty, and gut-churning excitement quotient, and comfort level doesn’t always correlate directly with age. Stop in the park visitor center for information about these hikes, including current conditions; rangers can let you know when to avoid some of them.

See my stories “The 10 Best Hikes in Zion National Park,” “Hiking Angels Landing: What You Need to Know,” “Pilgrimage Across Zion: Traversing a Land of Otherworldly Scenery,” “Luck of the Draw, Part 2: Backpacking Zion’s Narrows,” my expert e-book to backpacking Zion’s Narrows, and all stories about Zion National Park at The Big Outside.

Explore the best of the Southwest. See “The 15 Best Hikes in Utah’s National Parks
and “The 12 Best Backpacking Trips in the Southwest.”

A hiker on the John Muir Trail in Yosemite overlooking Half Dome, Liberty Cap, and Nevada Fall.
My wife, Penny, on the John Muir Trail in Yosemite overlooking Half Dome, Liberty Cap, and Nevada Fall.

Stand Beneath Yosemite’s Waterfalls and Summit Half Dome

Ages 7 and Up

Yosemite Valley and its surrounding high country was an early inspiration for creating a system of national parks—and the source of that inspiration becomes clearer when you explore beyond the Valley’s busy roads, hiking to its justifiably world-famous waterfalls and the summit of one of Yosemite’s iconic landmarks, Half Dome.

Upper Yosemite Falls in Yosemite National Park.
Upper Yosemite Falls in Yosemite National Park.

Dayhike the 7.2-mile, 2,700-vertical-foot Upper Yosemite Falls Trail to the brink of that waterfall, which plunges a sheer 1,400 feet through the air; or hike only about an hour to 90 minutes up that trail to a spot close enough to the base of the waterfall to feel the light rain of its mist.

The 6.3-mile, 2,000-vertical-foot loop on the Mist Trail and John Muir Trail takes you through the raining mist of 317-foot-tall Vernal Fall—which can be drenching in late spring—and both below and above the thunderous plume of nearly 600-foot-tall Nevada Fall.

Fit hikers—including older kids—with strong endurance can continue past Nevada Fall to dayhike up the exposed cable route to the summit of Half Dome, a 16-mile, 4,800-foot round trip that requires a permit. Adventurous families can venture beyond dayhiking distance, with myriad choices for five-star backpacking trips of virtually any length and difficulty.

See my stories “The 12 Best Dayhikes in Yosemite,” “The Magic of Hiking to Yosemite’s Waterfalls,” “Hiking Half Dome: How to Do It Right and Get a Permit,” “The 10 Best Backpacking Trips in Yosemite,” and all stories about Yosemite National Park at The Big Outside.

See also my e-books to three amazing backpacking trips in Yosemite.

I’ve helped many readers plan unforgettable adventures in Yosemite and elsewhere.
Want my help with yours? Find out more here.

 

A young boy hiking in the North Fork Cascade Canyon in Grand Teton National Park.
My son, Nate, on a family backpacking trip in Grand Teton National Park. Click photo for my e-book “The Best Short Backpacking Trip in Grand Teton National Park.”

Ascend Into the Tetons

Ages 7 and Up

Regular readers of this blog know that the Tetons are one of my favorite mountain ranges—I’ve made more than 20 trips dayhiking, backpacking, climbing, and backcountry skiing there—and I rank the Teton Crest Trail among “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips.”

Backpackers on the Teton Crest Trail on Death Canyon Shelf, Grand Teton National Park.
My son, Nate, and friend Mike Baron backpacking the Teton Crest Trail on Death Canyon Shelf, Grand Teton National Park.

But the TCT is an ambitious and moderately strenuous hike of at least four days for most adults. The first Teton backpacking trip I took my kids on, when they were eight and six, was a three-day hike of Grand Teton’s nearly 20-mile Paintbrush-Cascade Canyons Loop.

Probably the most popular backpacking route in the park because of its relatively short distance, easy access, and stellar scenery, it takes you through two of the park’s most stunning canyons and over one of the highest mountain passes reached by a trail in the park, 10,700-foot Paintbrush Divide (which can be difficult to cross, due to snow, until August). Campsites in Upper Paintbrush Canyon have views of soaring, striated canyon walls, and in the North Fork of Cascade Canyon you will drink in a stunning view of the Grand Teton framed by canyon walls—still one of my favorite backcountry campsites ever.

See all stories about backpacking Grand Teton National Park at The Big Outside, including “A Wonderful Obsession: Backpacking the Teton Crest Trail,” my story about backpacking the TCT with my family, and “How to Get a Permit to Backpack the Teton Crest Trail,” with tips relevant to applying for a permit for any trip in the park.

Click here now to get my e-book to the best short backpacking trip in Grand Teton National Park. Click here to see all of my e-books.

A mother and young daughter paddling a mangrove tunnel on the East River, in Florida's Everglades region.
My daughter, Alex, and wife, Penny, paddling a mangrove tunnel on the East River, on the edge of Florida’s Everglades.

Immerse Yourself in the Wild Everglades

Ages 7 and Up

Young kids playing on the beach near sunset on Tiger Key in the Ten Thousand Islands, Everglades National Park.
The kids playing on the beach near sunset on Tiger Key in the Ten Thousand Islands, Everglades National Park.

The Everglades is the kind of place that will shock you with its uniqueness and abundance of exotic fauna. Paddling sit-on-top kayaks on a placid river that flowed through mangrove tunnels, and canoes in the generally calm, shallow waters of the Ten Thousand Islands, my family watched an almost constant aerial parade of white ibises, black anhingas, tri-colored herons, brown pelicans and great blue herons fly just overhead.

On one paddling tour from the campsite we had to ourselves on a wilderness beach—where we watched the sun sink into the Gulf of Mexico—my son and I twisted around excitedly in our seats as a dolphin circled our canoe several times. On another paddle with my daughter, we exchanged long gazes with a gaggle of roseate spoonbills perched in a tree.

Much of the Everglades is a vast wilderness—at 1.5 million acres, the third-largest national park in the contiguous United States, bigger than Glacier or Grand Canyon and twice the size of Yosemite—offering opportunities for remote, multi-day, water-based adventures. But there are family-friendly options, like paddling canoes for a few hours on a well-marked water route to camp on a beach you have to yourselves.

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

Paddling the Everglades is one of “The 10 Best Family Outdoor Adventure Trips.”

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

Hike and Camp on the Wild Olympic Coast

Ages 7 and Up

Starfish, mussels, anemones on a boulder, Olympic coast.
My son, Nate, standing atop a boulder wallpapered with starfish, mussels, anemones on the southern Olympic coast.

My kids, who were nine and seven when we backpacked this three-day, 17.5-mile traverse of Washington’s southern Olympic coast, remember playing for hours in tide pools; exploring a massive boulder wallpapered with mussels, sea anemones, and sea stars; and climbing up and down thrilling rope ladders on steep headwalls. Throughout their childhoods, they called it one of their favorite trips (and it’s one of my top 10 family adventures).

The adults on this hike remember it for the rich sea life and birds—we saw seals, a sea otter, a great blue heron, and other wildlife—as well as the scenery, with scores of sea stacks rising straight out of the ocean and giant trees behind the beach.

It’s a surprisingly rugged trip—which goes far in explaining why fewer backpackers hike the southern stretch of the Olympic coast compared to the less-strenuous northern stretch. But many kids who’ve done some dayhiking and backpacking will do just fine—and revel in the adventurousness nature of it. Parents would have to feel either comfortable guiding their kids on the mandatory rope ladders or confident in their kids’ ability to managing them on their own.

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

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

Young kids hiking the Gunsight Pass Trail in Glacier National Park.
My kids hiking the Gunsight Pass Trail in Glacier National Park.

Backpack in Glacier National Park

Ages 8 and Up

Mountain goat along Glacier National Park's Gunsight Pass Trail.
A mountain goat seen from the Gunsight Pass Trail, high above Gunsight Lake in Glacier National Park.

As my family hiked up the Gunsight Pass Trail on our way to that 6,900-foot pass in Glacier National Park, a mountain goat, as white as fresh snow, with sharp, straight horns, hopped onto the trail not 50 feet ahead of us, on a stretch where the path clings to the face of a cliff. We stopped, and my kids, then nine and seven, glanced back and forth between the goat and my wife and me, simultaneously amazed and wondering what came next.

We waited. And when the goat finally relinquished the trail to us, scrambling nimbly down the cliff below, we peered over the brink to see where it went—but it had disappeared. My daughter, Alex, muttered, “I can’t believe it went down there.”

The 20-mile Gunsight Pass Trail traverse from the Jackson Glacier Overlook to Lake McDonald Lodge, both on the Going-to-the-Sun Road, takes in views of glaciers and rocky peaks and features campsites at Gunsight Lake and Lake Ellen Wilson that sit beneath tall cliffs spliced by waterfalls. It offers a relatively short but incredibly scenic backpacking trip with easy transportation logistics: Both trailheads are served by the park’s free shuttle bus. It’s also not crowded with dayhikers like trails around Many Glacier and Logan Pass.

See my story “Jagged Peaks and Wild Goats: Backpacking Glacier’s Gunsight Pass Trail,” “How to Get a Permit to Backpack in Glacier National Park,” my two expert e-books to longer backpacking trips in Glacier, and all stories about backpacking in Glacier at The Big Outside.

See my “10 Tips for Taking Kids on Their First Backpacking Trip
and my very popular “10 Tips For Raising Outdoors-Loving Kids.”

 

A young girl backpacking on Horseshoe Mesa in the Grand Canyon.
My daughter, Alex, backpacking on Horseshoe Mesa in the Grand Canyon.

Descend Into the Grand Canyon

Ages 8 and Up

The Grand Canyon looks impressive from its rim, but you really have to hike down into the Big Ditch to experience the full Alice-down-the-rabbit-hole sensation of its awesome scale. With virtually no vegetation obstructing the long vistas, towers thousands of feet tall appear to balloon to massive dimensions as you slowly approach them, until they dwarf their surroundings, then shrink into the background as you hike farther away. After many visits, I’ve yet to find a mediocre view or a bad backcountry campsite.

A school-age girl backpacking the Tonto Trail in the Grand Canyon.
My daughter, Alex, at 10, backpacking the Tonto Trail in the Grand Canyon.

Get that experience on a dayhike or backpacking trip into the canyon. Hike either of the easily accessed and best-constructed trails dropping into the canyon from the South Rim. Follow the Bright Angel Trail down as far as you want—there are numerous logical turnaround points within the first few miles, or go all the way to Indian Garden (nine miles and nearly 3,000 feet round-trip).

Or descend the South Kaibab Trail, one of America’s most scenic footpaths, with constant, ridge-crest views of a huge swath of the canyon. Accessible backpacking options off the South Rim allow for trips of two to five days or more.

See my e-book “The Best First Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon” and all stories about the Grand Canyon at The Big Outside.

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

Michael Lanza's family sea kayaking in Johns Hopkins Inlet, Glacier Bay National Park.
My family sea kayaking in Johns Hopkins Inlet in Alaska’s Glacier Bay National Park.

Sea Kayak Back to the Ice Age

Ages 8 and Up

Southeast Alaska’s Glacier Bay is the size of Connecticut and sits at the heart of a contiguous protected wilderness the size of Greece. There are simply few places of this size that are as pristine on the entire planet.

Steller sea lions on tiny South Marble Island, Glacier Bay National Park.
Steller sea lions on tiny South Marble Island, Glacier Bay National Park.

Glacier Bay has seen the fastest glacial retreat on Earth: Two centuries ago, there was no Glacier Bay, just a colossal river of ice 4,000 feet thick and 20 miles wide stretching 100 miles into the St. Elias Mountains. The ice has since pulled back 65 miles, creating a fjord with 1,200 miles of coastline that provides a living window into what the world looked like at the end of the last Ice Age.

On a multi-day sea kayaking trip, camping every night on a secluded, wilderness beach, you can see massive tidewater glaciers explosively calving bus-sized chunks of ice into the sea, humpback whales, orcas, Steller sea lions, mountain goats, seals, sea otters, brown bears, and a variety of birds and wildflowers—not to mention views of some of the more than 50 glaciers covering 1,375 square miles of the park, and peaks that rise to over 15,000 feet.

See my story “Back to the Ice Age: Sea Kayaking Glacier Bay.”

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

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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.

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

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.

Scroll through the All Trips List for a menu of stories at The Big Outside.

The Big Outside helps you find the best adventures.
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The Best Hikes in Capitol Reef National Park https://thebigoutsideblog.com/the-best-hikes-in-capitol-reef-national-park/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/the-best-hikes-in-capitol-reef-national-park/#respond Mon, 25 Aug 2025 09:00:50 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=64649 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Chances are, when you think about hiking in southern Utah, Capitol Reef National Park does not come to mind first. Or maybe even second or third. Ask many hikers and national parks fans to list Utah’s Big 5 parks—the others being Zion, Bryce Canyon, Arches, and Canyonlands—and Capitol Reef will probably bring up the rear on most people’s list. If they even remember it.

If you’re one of those people, this article will give you an entirely new impression of Capitol Reef and make you want to hike there. If you’ve already gotten a taste of the park and long to explore more of it, you’ll find below a tick list of hikes to take there.

I’ve experienced the beauty of Capitol Reef’s trails and backcountry through numerous hiking and backpacking trips there over more than three decades—most recently, visits in each of the past three years—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 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.

I’m not sure how many times I’ve walked a trail or stood at an overlook somewhere in Capitol Reef’s backcountry as the setting sun painted the multi-colored cliffs and towering stone beehives, pyramids, and castles with shifting, vivid evening light that rendered the landscape deeper, broader, more powerful with each passing minute. The sunsets here are crazy gorgeous.

From broad canyons with soaring walls to narrow slots, short and easy hikes ideal for young kids to moderate-distance trails that most hikers would love and some very challenging outings—like my family’s descent of a slot canyon that required four rappels, an adventure our kids loved when they were 11 and nine; and backpacking a mostly off-trail traverse along the spine of the park’s signature geologic feature, the Waterpocket Fold—I have witnessed the variety and striking natural wonder of this underappreciated gem of Utah’s canyon country and concluded it’s just as nice as Utah’s other four parks. But not as crowded.

A hiker on the Navajo Knobs Trail in Capitol Reef National Park, in southern Utah.
My wife, Penny, hiking the Navajo Knobs Trail (also shown in lead photo at top of story), in Utah’s Capitol Reef National Park.

Not among the ranks of our giant wilderness parks— at just over 240,000 acres, Capitol Reef could fit inside the Grand Canyon five times and Yellowstone nine times—it’s nonetheless the second largest of Utah’s Big 5, smaller only than Canyonlands (which is large enough to be geographically divided into four named districts) and nearly equals the area of Zion, Bryce, and Arches combined.

There’s plenty to explore in Capitol Reef. And this story will serve as your guide to doing just that.

A hiker near the Frying Pan Trail, Capitol Reef National Park.
My wife, Penny, hiking near the Frying Pan Trail, Capitol Reef National Park.

Spring and fall are the peak hiking seasons in Capitol Reef, though its higher elevations often ensure relatively comfortable temperatures extending into June and returning earlier in September than in lower hiking destinations like Zion Canyon. Be aware that some narrow canyons in the park pose flash-flood danger. Know in advance—you can inquire at the visitor center—whether you’re entering a narrow canyon and whether rain is in the forecast.

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

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 Navajo Knobs Trail in Capitol Reef National Park, in southern Utah.
My wife, Penny, hiking the Navajo Knobs Trail (also shown in lead photo at top of story), in Utah’s Capitol Reef National Park. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan this or any trip you read about at this blog.

Navajo Knobs Trail

I’ll state this up front: If you take one moderate-length dayhike in Capitol Reef, make it this one. There are few dayhikes in the entire National Park System, never mind in Utah’s parks, that compare with the Navajo Knobs Trail.

This 9.4-mile, out-and-back hike, with 1,620 feet of elevation gain and loss, starts at the same trailhead as the immensely popular Hickman Bridge Trail (below) but soon splits from it—and sees very light hiker traffic beyond that junction. The trail ascends to an overlook above Hickman Natural Bridge and then winds upward for 2.3 miles to the Rim Overlook (4.6 miles round-trip with 1,100 feet of uphill and downhill), with a sweeping view from 1,000 feet above the Fremont River Valley of the cliffs and the chaotically rumpled topography of the Waterpocket Fold and the Henry Mountains in the distance.

Continuing generally west past the Rim Overlook, the Navajo Knobs Trail meanders along the canyon rim, around dry draws and below enormous cliffs and towers, with continuously expanding panoramas of Capitol Reef and distinctive, giant formations like Pectols Pyramid, The Castle, and Fern’s Nipple.

At 4.7 miles from the trailhead, the trail concludes with some easy scrambling to the tiny summit of one of the pinnacles named the Navajo Knobs, at 6,979 feet, worth the effort for the prospect it offers of the varied and fascinating geology and topography of Capitol Reef National Park. But the Navajo Knobs Trail offers a five-star hike, however far you venture out before turning back.

The Navajo Knobs Trail starts at the Hickman Bridge Trailhead, on the north side of UT 24, two miles east of the park visitor center. The trailhead has a small parking lot that usually fills up, with motorists parking where possible along the highway; get there early for better parking access and to beat the heat on a hot day.

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

 

Hickman Natural Bridge seen from the Navajo Knobs Trail in Capitol Reef National Park, Utah.
Hickman Natural Bridge seen from the Navajo Knobs Trail in Capitol Reef National Park, Utah.

Hickman Bridge

Immensely popular for great scenery starting right at the trailhead and continuing every step of the way as well as for its short, easy distance, the Hickman Bridge Trail loops around the base of the natural sandstone bridge, which spans 133 feet and rises 125 feet high. At less than two miles out-and-back with 400 feet of elevation gain and loss, it takes only about 90 minutes, great for families with young kids and adults not interested in longer hikes. It splits off the Navajo Knobs Trail (above) at a trail junction just a quarter-mile from the trailhead.

The Hickman Bridge Trailhead is on the north side of UT 24, two miles east of the park visitor center and has a small parking lot that usually fills up, with vehicles parking where possible along the highway.

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A family backpacking Chimney Rock Canyon in Capitol Reef National Park.
My family backpacking up Chimney Rock Canyon in Capitol Reef National Park.

Chimney Rock Loop and Chimney Rock Canyon to Spring Canyon

Rising 300 feet above UT 24, Chimney Rock is an unmistakable natural spire visible to travelers along the highway. But most of them drive past without experiencing the far superior scenery on the relatively easy, 3.6-mile Chimney Rock Loop, which climbs about 800 feet onto the mesa above Chimney Rock, offering a bird’s-eye view of the Fremont River Valley and the sheer redrock cliffs that rise above it. Most hikers make the lollipop loop counterclockwise, getting most of the uphill done at the front end.

While the loop hike is relatively popular, far fewer hikers venture beyond it to explore farther down Chimney Rock Canyon to Spring Canyon, where tall, deeply red and tan walls rise high overhead and boulders flank the trail in many places. Following Chimney Rock Canyon’s trail down to its confluence with Spring Canyon adds three miles out-and-back and minimal down and up to the loop hike—and you can turn around at any point or explore up or down Spring Canyon.

Hikers looking for a longer and more adventurous outing can continue downstream in lower Spring Canyon—reaching the perennial spring not too far below the Chimney Rock Canyon junction—to the canyon’s mouth at the Fremont River, exploring that canyon’s ever-changing contours and fascinating geology. From the Chimney Rock Trailhead, it’s about a nine-mile hike (slightly longer if you add the side trip on the Chimney Rock Loop) down Chimney Rock Canyon and lower Spring Canyon to the Fremont River, which you must ford to reach UT 24, about two miles east of the Hickman Bridge and Cohab Canyon trailheads. Be prepared for a long day with a lot of sun exposure and look at the river where you’ll have to ford it before committing to the full canyon descent to make sure it’s low enough to ford safely.

The Chimney Rock Trailhead is on UT 24, three miles west of the park visitor center. The lot often fills in spring and fall so arrive early.

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A hiker on the Cohab Canyon Trail above Fruita in Capitol Reef National Park.
Todd Arndt hiking the Cohab Canyon Trail above Fruita in Capitol Reef National Park.

Cohab Canyon

Want to sample Capitol Reef’s Utah-caliber scenery on a relatively easy hike of two to three hours? Head up the Cohab Canyon Trail.

Although it extends for only 1.7 miles one-way between UT 24 and Fruita, with a bit over 400 feet of uphill, the Cohab Canyon Trail leads you through a fascinating defile of walls sculpted with countless “windows,” across rock gardens and sloping slickrock, and along the rim of a slot canyon—and offers the option of very worthwhile, short side trails to dramatic clifftop ledges at the North and South Fruita Overlooks (see photo in this story’s lead paragraphs).

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From the west end of the Cohab Canyon Trail, you’ll ascend switchbacks for about 400 feet in a half-mile to a high overlook of Fruita—another great early-evening or sunset view. From there the trail descends steadily to UT 24.

Slightly more than a half-mile west of UT 24, don’t pass up the side trail that winds uphill over ledges a short distance to a plateau and then forks at spur trails to the North Overlook (0.4 mile from the Cohab Canyon Trail) and South Overlook (0.5 mile from the Cohab Canyon Trail), which have breathtaking views from about 400 feet above the valley of the Fremont River.

Cohab Canyon’s eastern trailhead is on the south side of UT 24, two miles east of the park visitor center, a short distance east of the Hickman Bridge Trailhead. The west end of the Cohab Canyon Trail is across Scenic Drive from Fruita campground.

Gear up right for your hikes. See the best trekking poles
and “The 10 Best Hiking Daypacks.”

 

Frying Pan Trail

Immediately east of the North and South Overlooks trail junction in Cohab Canyon, the Frying Pan Trail diverges south. On a short, out-and-back side trip from Cohab Canyon onto the Frying Pan Trail, within about a quarter-mile you’ll climb to a sweeping panorama of countless creamy-white, red, and orange domes and cliffs—among the best views on any trail in the park.

For a longer outing, continue south on the Frying Pan Trail, which extends for 2.9 miles from Cohab Canyon to the Cassidy Arch Trail, traversing a high portion of the nearly 100-mile-long Waterpocket Fold. Although relatively few hikers venture the length of this trail, it’s one of the park’s finest.

Young girls hiking the Frying Pan Trail in Capitol Reef National Park, Utah.
My daughter, Alex, and friend Kellen hiking the Frying Pan Trail in Capitol Reef National Park.

You can hike it about 3.3 miles one-way from Cohab Canyon to Cassidy Arch and backtrack to Cohab Canyon—or continue another 3.6 miles and several hundred feet downhill to the bottom of the Cassidy Arch Trail in Grand Wash, turn east, and hike through the nearly flat Grand Wash, between tall, vertical, close walls frequented by bighorn sheep, back to the Grand Wash Trailhead on UT 24, about five miles east of the visitor center.

Best hike: Make a roughly 11-mile traverse from the eastern Cohab Canyon Trailhead on UT 24, through all of Cohab Canyon (as far as the Fruita overlook at the west end of Cohab Canyon, with some backtracking) and taking in the North and South Overlooks, plus the spur trail to Cassidy Arch, to the Grand Wash Trailhead on UT 24, three miles east of the Cohab Canyon Trailhead (a short car or bike shuttle—or it’s easy enough for one or two people to hitch a ride to retrieve your car).

Is that hike right for you?
See my story “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”

A hiker standing atop Cassidy Arch in Capitol Reef National Park, Utah.
Jeff Wilhelm standing atop Cassidy Arch in Capitol Reef National Park, Utah.

Grand Wash and Cassidy Arch

In many respects, the popular and easy Grand Wash has come to represent what hiking in Capitol Reef is all about. Nearly flat hiking between the tall, vertical, close walls frequented by bighorn sheep, it snakes for 2.2 miles end-to-end through the Waterpocket Fold from the eastern trailhead on UT 24, at 5,200 feet, about five miles east of the visitor center, to the western trailhead, also called the Cassidy Arch Trailhead, at over 5,400 feet, reached via a short dirt road, passable for cars, off Scenic Drive, 3.4 miles south of the visitor center.

You could hike the full length of Grand Wash out-and-back from either trailhead—and add the 2.8-mile, out-and-back side trip up the Cassidy Arch Trail, with more than 800 feet of uphill and downhill. But many hikers explore Grand Wash from the eastern trailhead. From that end, within maybe 20 minutes you’ll reach the start of the narrows section, where the canyon shrinks to the width of a residential street (not a true slot canyon, but still dramatic), and can hike as far as you like before turning around.

Hiking to Cassidy Arch from the eastern end of Grand Wash and back creates a round-trip hike of 6.8 miles and 1,000 feet up and down.

Watch for bighorn sheep on the ledges and terraces on the walls of this deep and dry canyon. Hike in early morning and late afternoon to get shade from the walls of Grand Wash.

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

 

A hiker on the Golden Throne Trail in Capitol Reef National Park.
My wife, Penny, hiking the Golden Throne Trail in Capitol Reef National Park.

Capitol Gorge and the Golden Throne Trail

Ancient Native Americans and, later, pioneers from the eastern United States used the dry streambed of Capitol Gorge as a road through the Waterpocket Fold; evidence of their passages remains on its walls today in the form of petroglyphs and the pioneer register, which bears names and dates carved, painted, and even shot into the rock wall.

The trail into the gorge is a mile-long, flat and easy hike between soaring, colorful walls. Less than a mile into the gorge, the Tanks Trail leads a quarter-mile and about 200 feet uphill to an area where large basins, or tanks, carved into the rock by flowing water in storms, hold pools of water and periodically get replenished by rain and depleted during spells of hot, dry weather.

Four miles round-trip, with 730 feet of up and down, the Golden Throne Trail—an entirely separate hike from Capitol Gorge, although their trailheads are next to one another—winds uphill below tall cliffs and crossing side canyons above Capitol Gorge to a viewpoint of the giant, very prominent formation aptly called the Golden Throne.

Hikers in Capitol Gorge in Capitol Reef National Park.
Hikers in Capitol Gorge in Capitol Reef National Park.

Each of them alone—or combining the two hikes—offers another great window into the variety of hiking in Capitol Reef National Park.

The Capitol Gorge and Golden Throne trailheads are reached by driving to the end of Scenic Drive and turning left onto the dirt Capitol Gorge Road, passable for cars, and following it for about two miles to its end.

See my stories about two family trips to Capitol Reef, “Plunging Into Solitude: Dayhiking, Slot Canyoneering, and Backpacking in Capitol Reef” and “Playing the Memory Game in Escalante, Capitol Reef, and Bryce Canyon,” and all stories about hiking and backpacking Capitol Reef National Park and all stories about hiking and backpacking in southern Utah at The Big Outside.

Find more information about trails in Capitol Reef at nps.gov/care/planyourvisit/hiking.htm.

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The Two Best Hikes in Bryce Canyon National park https://thebigoutsideblog.com/photo-gallery-my-favorite-hike-in-bryce-canyon/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/photo-gallery-my-favorite-hike-in-bryce-canyon/#comments Sat, 23 Aug 2025 09:05:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=7911 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Bryce Canyon’s relatively easy, nearly three-mile Navajo Loop/Queens Garden Loop regularly draws a steady stream of hikers for good reason, with constant views of hoodoos—the multi-colored, limestone, sandstone, and mudstone spires that look like giant, melting candles, including the famous formation called Thor’s Hammer. But once turning onto the Peekaboo Loop (photo above), you lose the crowds—and discover the scenic heart of Bryce Canyon while hiking below the Wall of Windows and row after row of towers in fluorescent shades of red and orange.

Similarly, the Fairyland Loop in Bryce includes a short, busy section of the Rim Trail, but over most of its length offers a quiet, lightly traveled hike through an area of Bryce that abounds in hoodoos, where you can lose the crowds and the scenery changes with every turn in the trail.


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The Wall of Windows along the Peekaboo Loop in Bryce Canyon National Park.
The Wall of Windows along the Peekaboo Loop in Bryce Canyon National Park.

When the Rim Trail and other easily accessible parts of Bryce get overcrowded and noisy—which occurs most days in spring and fall—both the six-mile linkup of the Navajo Loop/Queens Garden Loop with the Peekaboo Loop and the eight-mile Fairyland Loop enable hikers to escape the crowds and enjoy a quiet, very scenic, and only moderately strenuous tour of Bryce’s hoodoos and amphitheaters on well-graded, generally smooth trails. Hike both and you’ll enjoy an excellent tour of Bryce Canyon National Park.

Spring and fall are the prime seasons for hiking in the desert Southwest and Bryce Canyon’s trails lie between roughly 7,000 feet and 9,000 feet, so hiking here is generally cooler than places like Zion Canyon, extending the season of moderate temperatures into June and resuming it sometime in September.

Please share your comments or questions about these hikes in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

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Queens Garden/Navajo Loop and Peekaboo Loop

Start the Queens Garden/Navajo Loop from either Sunrise or Sunset Point and hike it clockwise for views overlooking the Bryce Canyon Amphitheater when descending the Queens Garden Trail; those views are behind you when hiking that trail uphill (counterclockwise). At the junction of the Queens Garden Loop and the Navajo Loop, in an area labeled South Hall on park maps, follow a connector trail leading briefly east to a junction where you’ll turn south onto the Peekaboo Loop, which will return you to this same junction; then backtrack that connector trail to finish the Navajo Loop.

While the entire six-mile combination of the Queens Garden/Navajo Loop and Peekaboo Loop—which takes about three hours—is beautiful, the Peekaboo Loop feels more sublime because there are so many fewer hikers on it. The trail system in Bryce allows you to shorten the hike to about five miles by combining only the Navajo and Peekaboo loops, or hike the Peekaboo Loop from Bryce Point (5.5 miles with almost 1,600 feet of up and down), or use the park shuttle buses to traverse 4.6 miles from Bryce Point to Sunrise Point, hiking one side of the Peekaboo Loop (clockwise) and the Queens Garden Trail.

See nps.gov/brca/planyourvisit/qgnavajocombo.htm and nps.gov/brca/planyourvisit/peekabooloop.htm.

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Fairyland Loop

Many hikers start this eight-mile loop—which has at least 1,500 feet of uphill and downhill and takes about four hours—at Sunrise Point Trailhead, following the Rim Trail north briefly and turn onto the Fairyland Loop to hike it counterclockwise. You’ll initially descend past walls and towers of red, orange, and cream-colored stone, reaching the short spur trail to Tower Bridge (the sight of which instantly explains its name).

The trail climbs again to follow the plateau rim overlooking Boat Mesa, drops into Fairyland Canyon, then ascends once more to Fairyland Point. The loop then follows the Rim Trail south back to Sunrise Point, with long views of the Bryce Amphitheater. The entire Fairyland Loop is gently graded. You can also start the Fairyland Loop at Fairyland Point, but parking is very limited there and it’s not served by the park’s shuttle buses.

See nps.gov/brca/planyourvisit/fairylandloop.htm.

See my story about a trip to Bryce and other southern Utah parks for more about hiking the Navajo Loop/Queens Garden Loop and Peek-a-Boo Loop and tips on planning a trip to Bryce and other parks, and all stories about hiking and backpacking in southern Utah at The Big Outside. Many 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.

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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.”

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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.


Are you a fan of the beautiful photos you see at The Big Outside? Click here now
to get professional-quality prints of this blog’s most inspiring images!


A backpacker 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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Hiking the Kolob Canyons of Zion National Park https://thebigoutsideblog.com/photo-gallery-hiking-the-kolob-canyons-of-zion-national-park/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/photo-gallery-hiking-the-kolob-canyons-of-zion-national-park/#comments Wed, 09 Jul 2025 09:00:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=21908 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Hiking in the Kolob Canyons area of Zion National Park, you get down to business with five-star scenery with your first step from your car. At the Lee Pass Trailhead, Taylor Creek Trailhead, or the Kolob Canyons Viewpoint, you’re immediately greeted with views of crimson cliffs soaring hundreds of feet tall. Then it just keeps getting better.

Located in the far northwest corner of Zion, a one-hour drive and a world removed from the crush of tourists at the park’s south entrance in Springdale, the Kolob Canyons consist of a series of narrow, parallel canyons with walls up to 2,000 feet tall. Higher in elevation, it’s a cooler destination for hiking and backpacking when trails starting in Zion Canyon are too hot—not to mention considerably less crowded.


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


I’ve backpacked with my family through the Kolob Canyons, started a 50-mile dayhike across Zion from there, and dayhiked the Taylor Creek Trail on a spring day when a thunderstorm bruised the sky above those red walls. The photo gallery below from Zion’s Kolob Canyons spotlights photos from those trips, and the video shows the view from Kolob Canyons Viewpoint and at Double Arch Alcove on the Taylor Creek Trail. You’ll find links to my Zion stories below the gallery and video.

The Kolob Canyons are just a few minutes’ drive from exit 40 on I-15, between Cedar City and St. George, Utah. The Taylor Creek Trail offers an easy and really scenic introductory hike: It’s five miles round-trip, gaining only 450 feet in elevation, to Double Arch Alcove, a pair of giant arches in the Navajo sandstone beneath the 1,700-foot-tall walls of Tucupit Tower and Paria Tower. The trail passes by two historic homestead cabins built in the early 1930s, the Larson Cabin and the Fife Cabin.

The right pack makes hiking better.
See the 10 best backpacking packs and the 10 best hiking daypacks.

For more photos and information about hiking in the Kolob Canyons, see my feature stories about a family backpacking trip and a 50-mile dayhike across the park, both of which began in the Kolob Canyons, and backpacking Zion’s Narrows, and a menu of all stories about Zion National Park at The Big Outside, including “The 10 Best Hikes in Zion National Park” and stories about hiking Angels Landing and Zion’s Subway.

You can also see a list of all stories about Zion by scrolling to the bottom of the All National Park Trips page at The Big Outside.

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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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7 Tips For Getting Your Family on Outdoor Adventure Trips https://thebigoutsideblog.com/7-tips-for-getting-your-family-on-outdoor-adventure-trips/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/7-tips-for-getting-your-family-on-outdoor-adventure-trips/#comments Thu, 12 Jun 2025 09:00:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=26950 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

In the Digital Era, the idea of families spending sustained time outdoors—actually taking trips built around some outdoor adventure enjoyed together—can feel like a wonderful aspiration that’s awfully hard to achieve. But that lifestyle is a reality for many families—and always has been for mine—and one that brings parents and children together for long periods of time (hours or even days!) in beautiful places in nature for an activity that’s genuinely fun and, most importantly, offline and unplugged.

How do you create that kind of lifestyle for your family? As the father of two young adults who are avid backpackers, skiers, climbers, mountain bikers, paddlers, and intelligent, fine young people who make me proud (and most importantly, love spending time with and just talking to their parents!), I believe this goal remains not only entirely feasible today, but all that much more critical—especially for young kids.

And when it’s done right, you and your children will consider the time you spend together outdoors some of the best you share as a family.


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


For this story, I’ve synthesized the biggest lessons I’ve gleaned from two decades of parenting outdoors as often as possible—and four decades building my life around outdoor recreation, including formerly as a field editor for Backpacker magazine for 10 years and even longer running this blog—into seven tips that will help set you on the path to wonderful times together as a family.

Click on any photo to read about that trip. Please share your questions or your own tips in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments. Click on any photo to read about that trip.

A toddler girl sitting in Skillern Hot Springs in Idaho's Smoky Mountains.
My daughter, Alex, on an early family backpacking trip to Skillern Hot Springs in Idaho’s Smoky Mountains.

No. 1: Don’t ‘Wait Until They’re Older’

For starters, abandon any misguided notion that you should “wait until the kids are older”—that’s a formula for winding up with a ‘tweener or teen who’s not interested in any of your wild-eyed notions about spending family time outdoors.

Young kids in camp while backpacking in Rocky Mountain National Park.
My kids while backpacking in Rocky Mountain National Park.

My initial motivation was admittedly somewhat selfish. One lesson I learned soon after becoming a father was this: If I wanted to keep getting outside—and especially on big trips—as much as I had before parenthood, I would have to involve my family in the activities I love doing. (That’s why that tip ranks no. 2 in my “10 Tips For Getting Outside More.”) But I also understood that making that effort when they were small would pay dividends as they grew older and more capable.

As I urge in my “Survival Guide for the Outdoors Lover Who’s a New Parent,” take your kids outside often, beginning when they’re too young to remember it—then their oldest memories will include being outdoors with their family. They will learn that getting outdoors together as a family is almost as routine as dinner.

That’s not to say it’s ever too late to start, of course. It’s never too late to spend quality time together.

Want to take your family backpacking? See these expert e-books:
The Best First Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon
The Best First Backpacking Trip in Yosemite
The Best Backpacking Trip in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains

A raft filled with children running Cliffside Rapid on Idaho's Middle Fork Salmon River.
My daughter, Alex, and others in “the kids raft” running Cliffside Rapid on Idaho’s Middle Fork Salmon River.

No. 2: When You Need It, Get Expert Help

Young boy and man in a slot canyon in Capitol Reef National Park.
My son, Nate, and our canyoneering guide Steve Howe, in a slot canyon in Capitol Reef National Park.

You want to get your kids outdoors more, exploring nature, and enjoying the myriad experiences available in local, state, and national parks; but you and your spouse lack the skills and knowledge to even know where to begin, never mind keep everyone safe. That’s not an obstacle—everyone begins as a novice. There are free programs, many of them family-oriented, available on public lands all over the country, and numerous paid guide services—an abundance of expertise available to help you acquire experience and skills.

As just one example, when planning a visit to a national park, search the park’s website for ranger-led activities, like hikes, that are usually free or low-cost and ideal for families and beginners; you’ll find them at virtually every national park and many other public lands. Those websites also list guide services and outfitters that are licensed to operate in that park.

For instance, you can find guided tours of all kinds in Yellowstone, guided hikes in Glacier National Parkriver trips through the Grand Canyon, and climbing guides operating in Grand Teton National Park and on Mount Rainier, and ranger-led tours and interpretive programs in almost any park, including Yosemite, and an adventurous, ranger-guided tour of the Fiery Furnace in Arches.

See all of the stories about family trips listed at my Family Adventures page at The Big Outside, including stories about guided whitewater rafting Idaho’s Middle Fork Salmon River and Utah’s Gates of Lodore section of the Green River in Dinosaur National Monument and the Green River’s Desolation and Gray canyons, climbing Mount Whitney, guided hiking and slot canyoneering in Capitol Reef National Park, sea kayaking in Alaska’s Glacier Bay, and kayak touring in the Everglades.

See also my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you plan your next family adventure..

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A young girl hiking in Sequoia National Park.
My daughter, Alex, on a family backpacking trip in Sequoia National Park.

No. 3: Talk and Listen to Them

From the longer perspective of a father of young adults, of all the advice that I offer in my popular “10 Tips For Raising Outdoors-Loving Kids,” I think the two best nuggets of hard-earned wisdom are simply “talk and listen” and “work your P.R.”

When planning a trip, make your children feel like they’re part of the decision-making process. Welcome their questions, address their concerns, and give them some say in what you’re doing. They will be more emotionally invested in making it a success.

Your children crave your attention; shower them with it, especially positive reinforcement. Compliment kids when they do well and encourage them when they’re challenged. Tell children they’re good hikers, skiers, climbers, paddlers, or cyclists, and they will take pride in that. You will help them self-identify as a kid who likes being outdoors.

I can help you plan the best backpacking, hiking, or family adventure of your life.
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Young girl and father backpacking in the Grand Canyon.
My daughter, Alex, and me on Horseshoe Mesa in the Grand Canyon.
Teenage climber backpacking to high camp below California's Mount Whitney.
Nate backpacking to our high camp to climb California’s Mount Whitney.

No. 4: Take One-on-One, Parent-Child Trips

When my son and daughter were both very young, I established a tradition of taking an annual father-son and father-daughter backcountry trip, getaways that have become known as our “Boy Trip” and “Girl Trip.” (At a young age, my daughter gave me a waiver for my gender.)

By launching this idea when they were young and eager for entire days of one-on-one time with me, I created a tradition that my kids would look forward to as much as I did.

While most of our trips have consisted of backpacking and rock climbing in our home state of Idaho, I’ve also backpacked in the Grand Canyon with my daughter and climbed Mount Whitney with my son (click on the photos above and at left to read about either trip).

But it matters less what you do or where than simply that you do it, give your child your entire attention, make it fun, and demonstrate your commitment to it—so that, as your child gets older, the shared commitment remains strong.

I can report now, from the far end of the parenting journey with two kids who are young adults and avid backpackers, skiers, climbers, mountain bikers, and paddlers, that our son and daughter—as busy as their lives have become—still strive to spend as much time with us, especially outdoors, as they can, and we’re continually planning adventures together, whether for a few hours or a few weeks.

The Big Outside helps your family get outdoors more.
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No. 5: Blow Their Minds

Taking outdoors trips with little kids can, at times, create that defeated feeling of herding cats; but in some ways, it’s easier than when they get older, because you’re still in charge while they’re young. As they get older, they not only want more say in decisions about family outings and vacations, but they tend to come down with a chronic case of cynicism—everything is potentially “boring.”

Solution: Overwhelm their cynicism with trips so irrefutably fun that your offer becomes one they can’t refuse. One of my “10 Tips For Getting Your Teenager Outdoors With You” is: Do something really cool.

Young girl trekking in Parco Naturale Paneveggio Pale di San Martino, Dolomite Mouintains, Italy.
Alex trekking the Alta Via 2 in Italy’s Dolomite Mouintains.

As our kids grew older and more physically capable, comfortable with bigger challenges, and self-confident, we took them exploring slot canyons, including two non-technical, family-friendly slots in southern Utah’s Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument, and a technical slot canyon that required four rappels in Capitol Reef National Park.

We rafted and kayaked whitewater rivers like Oregon’s Grand Ronde, Utah’s Green through Dinosaur National Monument, and Idaho’s Middle Fork of the Salmon. We’ve backpacked and trekked hut to hut in amazing landscapes from the Tetons and Glacier National Park to the Tour du Mont Blanc and Italy’s Dolomite Mountains. I would regularly take them rock climbing and skiing.

No, it doesn’t have to be totally hard-core, involve international travel, or cost a small fortune. The point is simply to be willing to rise to the challenge of motivating your kids when they’ve grown a little tired of the same old. The fact that they want to step up to a higher level of outdoor adventure means you’ve been successful.

Make your kids want to go again. See “The 10 Best Family Outdoor Adventure Trips.”

Children in a campsite while floating the Green River in Canyonlands National Park.
The kids at “Kid Rock,” in a camp on the Green River in Canyonlands.

No. 6: Recruit Another Family

Family group of backpackers heading into Paria Canyon, in Utah and Arizona.
Our group ready to backpack Paria Canyon.

From the first river trip we ever took as a family—a beginner-friendly, five-day float down the Green River in Canyonlands National Park—to hiking in Yosemite, backpacking Paria Canyon and the Needles District of Canyonlands, and skiing to backcountry yurts, as well as other trips, we have frequently brought other kids, another family, or multiple families along for the adventure.

Not only do the kids get energized by more peers, but it’s more social and fun for everyone—and adds the benefit of spreading the work out among the adults (when children are too young to be much help). Bring another family regularly into your trips, and you create more voices motivating the movement toward always planning the next one.

Get the right backpack for you and your kid.
See “The 10 Best Backpacking Packs” and the best ultralight backpacks.

A father and teenage son climbing the Mountaineers Route on California's Mount Whitney.
My son, Nate, and me climbing the Mountaineers Route on California’s Mount Whitney.

No. 7: Pick a Shared Goal

When my son was 15, I proposed to him that he and I (for our annual Boy Trip) climb a mountaineering route up the highest peak in the contiguous United States, California’s 14,505-foot Mount Whitney, to raise money for an organization that introduces kids his age to the outdoors. He leapt at the suggestion.

Motivated by this goal, he joined me in spending the next several months training for it. After we successfully reached the summit, in our tent that night at our base camp at 12,000 feet, he told me it was “the best trip we’ve ever done, and it makes me excited to do bigger ones and climb more mountains like this.”

I told him I would love that.

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A family trekking through Spain's Picos de Europa National Park.
My family trekking through Spain’s Picos de Europa National Park.

Bonus Tip: Don’t Worry, Just Take It Slow

If your family is entirely new to hiking or any outdoors endeavors, it’s okay. You have time. Take baby steps, learn as you go, and follow your gut instincts in choosing what’s right for your family. Seek a balance between encouraging everyone to try something new and not pushing so hard that anyone gets discouraged.

The only important goal is to keep making the effort to get out there. The rest will work out.

See more tips about walking that fine line in my “10 Tips for Keeping Kids Happy and Safe Outdoors” and “5 Tips For Hiking With Young Kids From an Outdoors Dad,” and my story “5 Questions to Ask Before Trying That New Outdoor Adventure.”

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The Best Guide to Backpacking the Zion Narrows https://thebigoutsideblog.com/photo-gallery-backpacking-zions-narrows/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/photo-gallery-backpacking-zions-narrows/#comments Sat, 07 Jun 2025 09:00:48 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=19528 By Michael Lanza

The sound of rushing water increased in volume and the canyon walls pressed in close and reached toward the sliver of sky overhead as we walked downstream in the calf-deep North Fork of the Virgin River in The Narrows of Zion National Park. Turning a bend in the canyon, we came upon one of the most incongruous sights in the desert: a waterfall pouring from cracks in the canyon’s sandstone wall. Known as Big Spring, this oasis of cascading water and a hanging garden clinging to a redrock cliff is just one of the many wonders awaiting backpackers in Zion’s Narrows.

One of the most uniquely magnificent and coveted hikes in the National Park System, the Zion Narrows squeeze down to about 20 feet across in places, with sandstone walls that rise as much as a thousand feet tall.


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


Day one in the upper Narrows, Zion National Park.
Day one in the upper Narrows, Zion National Park. Click photo for my e-book “The Complete Guide to Backpacking the Narrows in Zion National Park.”

There are many great canyon hikes in the Southwest, but The Narrows is the archetypal great canyon hike—and certainly one of the very best backpacking trips in the Southwest and a top 10 trip in America.

I base that judgment on having done many of the most beautiful multi-day hikes in the country over more than three decades of carrying a backpack, including the 10 years I spent as a field editor for Backpacker magazine and even longer running this blog.

I think the photo gallery below will convince you to take this trip.

The Narrows is generally backpacked as a two-day hike from top to bottom, descending 1,500 vertical feet over the course of 16 miles, from the starting trailhead at Chamberlain Ranch to the Temple of Sinawava Trailhead at the end of the road in Zion Canyon.

Early summer and fall are the prime seasons for hiking The Narrows, which is frequently unsafe because of high water levels in April and May and sometimes into June, and during July and August, when heavy rainstorms are common.

My expert e-book “The Complete Guide to Backpacking The Narrows in Zion National Park” will tell you everything you need to know to plan and execute this classic backpacking trip. It is the most thorough guide you will find to backpacking Zion’s Narrows.

Click here now to Join The Big Outside and get my backpacking Zion’s Narrows e-book free!

Not surprisingly, our campsite in The Narrows graces my list of 25 favorite backcountry campsites. I also suggest it as one of “The 5 Southwest Backpacking Trips You Should Do First.”

See my feature story “Luck of the Draw, Part 2: Backpacking Zion’s Narrows,” with many more photos and a video, plus basic trip-planning information (though not nearly as much trip-planning detail as provided in my Narrows e-book). Like most stories about trips at this blog, reading that story in full requires a paid subscription to The Big Outside.

See all stories about Zion National Park at The Big Outside.

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Extreme Hiking: America’s Best Hard Dayhikes https://thebigoutsideblog.com/extreme-hiking-americas-best-hard-dayhikes/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/extreme-hiking-americas-best-hard-dayhikes/#comments Sun, 11 May 2025 09:00:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=24360 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Imagine this: You’re heading out on a long, beautiful hike deep in the backcountry, but instead of a full backpack, you carry a light daypack. You’ve avoided hassles with getting a backcountry permit and there’s no camp to set up and pack up. I love backpacking—and I do it a lot. But sometimes, I prefer to knock off a weekend-length—or longer—hike in one big day.

A completely different way to experience a hike, walking 15 to 20 or more miles in a day feels liberating in how lightly you travel and how much ground you can cover. The following list of 15 hikes represents the very best long—and huge—dayhikes I’ve taken over more than three decades of hiking all over the country, as a longtime field editor for Backpacker magazine and running this blog.

I’ve taken huge dayhikes many times simply because I had just one day free and wanted to see as much as possible. But there are some long stretches of trail that, to me, just cry out to be hiked in a day—for aesthetic reasons and because the length and access are just right and the scenery top shelf. The hikes on this list possess those qualities.

Like many stories at The Big Outside, part of this story is free for anyone to read, but reading about all of the hikes in this story requires a paid subscription to this blog.

If you have a favorite long dayhike that you think belongs on this list, tell me in the comments section at the bottom of this story, and I’ll try to get to it. Or just tell me what you think of my list. 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 hiker on the South Kaibab Trail in the Grand Canyon.
David Ports hiking the South Kaibab Trail in the Grand Canyon. Click on the photo to see my e-book “The Complete Guide to Hiking the Grand Canyon Rim to Rim.”

The Grand Canyon Rim to Rim to Rim

Arguably the granddaddy of ultra-dayhikes, traversing the Grand Canyon from the South Rim to the North Rim and back again constitutes not only the most demanding stroll on this list, but a mind-blowing, top-to-bottom tour of one of Earth’s most magnificent and unfathomable natural features—twice in one day. By its shortest route (depending on which trails you use), the r2r2r, as it’s known, is 42 miles round-trip with a cumulative elevation gain and loss of over 21,000 feet.

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

Backpacking the route requires obtaining one of the most hard-to-get backcountry permits in the National Park System, so if you possess the fitness and skills to knock it off in a day, that may offer your best chance of actually doing it. Of course, the shorter (and perhaps saner) alternative is to hike across the canyon in just one direction, halving the distance, using available shuttle services to travel between the rims before or after your hike (depending on your lodging arrangements).

I hope it goes without saying that this is an extremely arduous undertaking in an extreme environment and should only be attempted by very fit, experienced desert hikers: Every time I’ve done it, I’ve seen a surprising number of people attempting to hike it in just one direction (rim to rim) who were already suffering mightily long before they would finish it. This is no place to experiment with how far you can hike in a day: Be certain you are prepared for this massive undertaking.

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,” and “A Grand Ambition, Or April Fools? Dayhiking the Grand Canyon Rim to Rim to Rim,” and all stories about the Grand Canyon at The Big Outside.

Click here now for my expert e-book to hiking the Grand Canyon rim to rim!

A backpacker on the Highline Trail in Glacier National Park.
Geoff Sears hiking the Highline Trail in Glacier National Park.

Logan Pass to Many Glacier, Glacier National Park

Take one of the prettiest moderate-length dayhikes in the National Park System—Glacier’s Highline Trail—and tack on waterfalls, a view from above a glacier, and a walk down a valley flanked by peaks, and you have the 16.4-mile, point-to-point traverse from 6,646-foot Logan Pass on the Going-to-the-Sun Road to Many Glacier, via Swiftcurrent Pass. This hike delivers uninterrupted views of the park’s jagged peaks and cliffs, and there’s a good chance you’ll see bighorn sheep and mountain goats. The distance includes the optional but very worthwhile side hike—1.2 miles and a steep 1,000 feet—to the Grinnell Glacier Overlook, a notch in the long cliff known as the Garden Wall.

See my stories “The 8 Best Long Hikes in Glacier National Park” and “Descending the Food Chain: Backpacking Glacier National Park’s Northern Loop,” and all of my stories about Glacier National Park at The Big Outside.

Do you want to backpack in Glacier? See The Big Outside’s E-Books page for a menu of all expert e-books available at this blog, including to two five-star trips in Glacier.

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Backpackers hiking over Clouds Rest in Yosemite National Park.
Todd Arndt and Jeff Wilhelm hiking over Clouds Rest in Yosemite.

Tenaya Lake to Yosemite Valley, Yosemite National Park

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

From the post-card view of the granite domes and cliffs flanking Tenaya Lake, to two of Yosemite’s finest summts and two of its most spectacular waterfalls, this 21-mile traverse hits many of the park’s best and most famous landmarks.

After admiring the view from Tenaya Lake’s southwestern shore, hike up 9,926-foot Clouds Rest, culminating with its gripping, 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—a thousand feet taller than the face of El Capitan.

Then comes Half Dome’s thrilling cable route (lead photo at top of story) and a view of Yosemite Valley that would otherwise require you to have rock climbing skills or wings—for which you need a permit—followed by a descent of the Mist Trail past 594-foot Nevada Fall and 317-foot Vernal Fall, before finishing at the Happy Isles Trailhead in Yosemite Valley.

See more photos and information in my stories “The 10 Best Dayhikes in Yosemite,” “Hiking Half Dome: How to Do It Right and Get a Permit,” “Best of Yosemite: Backpacking South of Tuolumne Meadows,” and “The Magic of Hiking to Yosemite’s Waterfalls,” and all stories about Yosemite National Park at The Big Outside.

Gear up right for huge hikes like this. See the best hiking shoes and the best hiking daypacks.

A hiker on the West Rim Trail above Zion Canyon in Zion National Park.
David Ports hiking the West Rim Trail on a 50-mile dayhike across Zion National Park.
Along the Hop Valley Trail in Zion National Park.
Along the Hop Valley Trail in Zion.

Traversing Zion National Park

Few “dayhikes” on any list of ultra-hikes stretch as long as this—or get as scenic—but the north to south traverse across Zion National Park has earned something of a cult following among uber-fit hikers and ultra-runners.

From Lee Pass Trailhead to East Entrance Trailhead—with a short shuttle-bus ride in Zion Canyon from The Grotto to Weeping Rock—you’ll navigate a 47-mile grand tour of some of the most amazing scenery in the Southwest: deep chasms with burnt-red and white walls, soaring cliffs and beehive rock formations, and edge-of-the-rim walks high above labyrinths of slot canyons.

Throw in a few stunning, short side hikes along the way—Northgate Peaks, Angels Landing, and Hidden Canyon—and you log more than 50 miles on one of the most incredible days of hiking in the entire National Park System.

For a shorter but still full day of hiking that’s a reasonable length for many more fit hikers and trail runners, hike the West Rim Trail, 16.6 miles from the upper trailhead near Lava Point to the Grotto trailhead (shuttle bus stop no. 6) in Zion Canyon, a mostly downhill hike with about 800 vertical feet uphill and 3,600 feet downhill.

But the most scenic stretch of the West Rim Trail lies between its lower switchbacks, starting below Walter’s Wiggles and the spur trail to Angels Landing, and the upper junction with the Telephone Canyon Trail—and you can see all of that on an out-and-back dayhike from the Grotto that’s the same distance as hiking the West Rim Trail from top to bottom, without requiring a shuttle—but of course, requiring you to hike up and down about 3,000 vertical feet.

See my stories “The 10 Best Hikes in Zion National Park,” which provides details about an ongoing trail closure that has prevented completing this full traverse, although it’s still possible to hike about 40 miles from Lee Pass to Zion Canyon, and “Mid-Life Crisis—Hiking 50 Miles Across Zion In a Day,” and all stories about Zion National Park at The Big Outside.

If you like this list, check out “The 25 Best National Park Dayhikes.”

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.

Paintbrush-Cascade Canyons Loop, Grand Teton National Park

Lake Solitude in the North Fork Cascade Canyon, Grand Teton National Park.
Lake Solitude in the North Fork of Cascade Canyon, Grand Teton National Park.

Probably the most popular backpacking trip in the park, the nearly 20-mile Paintbrush Canyon-Cascade Canyon loop from String Lake Trailhead, with a bit over 4,000 feet of elevation gain and loss, sees hikers and runners regularly notching it in a day.

The scenery is classic Tetons: serrated peaks and deep canyons with rock walls soaring thousands of feet overhead, and waterfalls tumbling off those walls in Cascade Canyon. Plus, the loop crosses one of the highest points reached on any trail in the park, 10,720-foot Paintbrush Divide, where the panorama takes in a huge chunk of the Tetons. It also passes cliff-ringed Lake Solitude in the North Fork of Cascade Canyon, where you’re looking straight down the glacier-carved valley at the towering north walls of the Grand Teton and Mount Owen.

See “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 backpacking the beginner-friendly loop described above.

A hiker in the Northern Presidential Range in New Hampshire's White Mountains.
Mark Fenton hiking the Northern Presidential Range in New Hampshire’s White Mountains.

Presidential Range ‘Death March’

This archetypal huge dayhike—the first known traverse dates back to 1882—the 20-mile, 8,500-foot “Death March” of New Hampshire’s Presidential Range remains above treeline for 15 miles, with vistas spanning the White Mountains. And the distance and difficulty hit a sweet spot—within reach for fit hikers, yet hard enough to fire aspirations, especially given the notoriously rocky and steep character of trails in the Whites.

A teenage boy dayhiking in the Presidential Range, N.H.
My son, Nate, at age 14, on a 17-mile, four-summit dayhike in the Presidential Range, N.H.

Starting at one of the trailheads below 5,367-foot Mount Madison (the Air Line and Osgood Trail are personal favorites) and hiking south to Crawford Notch (to tick off the harder, northern summits first), purists tag all nine summits along the way, including the Northeast’s highest, 6,288-foot Mt. Washington—where winds exceed hurricane force an average of 110 days a year, and the average year-round temperature is below freezing, at 27.2° F. Pack some layers.

See my stories “Step Onto Rock. Step Down. Repeat 50,000 Times: A Presidential Range ‘Death March’,” “Big Hearts, Big Day: A 17-Mile Hike With Teens in the Presidential Range,” and all stories about the White Mountains at The Big Outside.

Get ready for your next big hike. See my stories “Training For a Big Hike or Mountain Climb
and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”

Sol Duc Falls, Olympic National Park.

High Divide-Sol Duc Loop, Olympic National Park

Like the above hike, this 18-mile loop with over 3,000 feet of elevation gain is popular with backpackers, but a doable objective for many fit dayhikers—and a great day in a mountain range that’s largely beyond reach to all but backpackers and climbers on strenuous, multi-day outings.

Hiking counterclockwise, you’ll pass lovely Sol Duc Falls, with its triple columns, and climb through old-growth rainforest to higher meadows carpeted with lupine and other wildflowers. On a clear day, the High Divide Trail’s long alpine traverse delivers views across the deep, lushly green trench of the Hoh River Valley to ice- and snow-blanketed Mount Olympus. After passing beautiful Heart Lake, set in another sprawling meadow, the loop makes a gentle descent below ancient, giant trees along the Sol Duc River. You’re likely to see elk and mountain goats at higher elevations and black bear almost anywhere.

See all of my stories about Olympic National Park at The Big Outside.

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A hiker on the Lizard Head Plateau, Wind River Range, Wyoming.
Shelley Johnson hiking across the Lizard Head Plateau, Wind River Range, Wyoming.

Crossing the Wind River Range

A backpacker overlooking the Cirque of the Towers in the Wind River Range.
Justin Glass overlooking the Cirque of the Towers in the Wind River Range.

Huge vistas for much of the way, in one of the highest ranges of the Rocky Mountains, are the payoff on this 27-mile, east-west crossing of the southern Winds, from the Bears Ears Trailhead in Dickinson Park to the Big Sandy Opening Trailhead.

With a cumulative elevation gain of about 4,500 feet, this traverse stays above 11,000 feet for many miles, with views of peaks rising above 12,000 feet on the Continental Divide. Don’t pass up the 20-minute, off-trail side trip up 12,250-foot Mount Chauvenet, overlooking a row of peaks that includes Buffalo Peak, Camel’s Hump, and Mounts Washakie and Hooker. But the hike’s highlight is the Cirque of the Towers, a mind-boggling horseshoe of sheer-walled granite peaks standing shoulder to shoulder.

See my story “A Walk in the Winds: Hiking a One-Day, 27-Mile Traverse of Wyoming’s Wind River Range,” and all stories about the Wind River Range at The Big Outside.

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

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The 30 Nicest Backcountry Campsites I’ve Hiked Past https://thebigoutsideblog.com/photo-gallery-12-nicest-backcountry-campsites-ive-hiked-past/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/photo-gallery-12-nicest-backcountry-campsites-ive-hiked-past/#comments Sun, 06 Apr 2025 09:00:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=8431 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

It is one of those unfortunate inevitabilities of life, like death and taxes: Occasionally on backpacking trips you will hike past one of the most sublime patches of wilderness real estate you have ever laid eyes on, a spot so idyllic you can already see your tent pitched there and you standing outside it, warm mug in your hands, watching a glorious sunset. But it’s early and your plan entails hiking farther before you stop for the day—not camping there. Or your permit isn’t for that site. Or even worse, you are looking for a campsite, but someone else has already occupied this little corner of Heaven.

Disappointment is an awfully large pill to swallow, especially if you know you may never get back to that place. Then again, you might make a note on your map and return there someday. Goals are a powerful motivator.

My recently updated story “Tent Flap With a View: 25 Favorite Backcountry Campsites” has photos and descriptions of the best spots in the wilderness where I’ve ever spent a night over the past three-plus decades, including many years running this blog and previously as a field editor for Backpacker magazine for 10 years. So it seems fitting to spotlight the best camps I never had but wish I did—all of them places potentially awaiting your tent.

Just make sure you get there before someone else grabs it.


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


This list grows every year—an inevitable outcome of backpacking frequently—giving you more ideas for trips to take. The descriptions below include links to stories at The Big Outside about those trips, with more images and information about planning them. Those stories about trips, and many other stories at this blog, require a paid subscription to read in full, although you don’t need a subscription to purchase any of my E-books or my Custom Trip Planning.

Please share your questions or suggestions about these campsites or others in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

A mother and young daughter backpacking the High Sierra Trail above Hamilton Lakes, Sequoia National Park.
My wife, Penny, and daughter, Alex, backpacking the High Sierra Trail above Hamilton Lakes, Sequoia National Park.

Hamilton Lakes, Sequoia National Park

Granted, there are a lot of great campsites in the High Sierra. But some really do stand out even from the many extraordinary sites—in fact, two of our camps on this Sequoia trip made my list of 25 favorite backcountry campsites.

After a morning hike along a stretch of the High Sierra Trail that traverses hundreds of feet above the cliff-flanked canyon of the Middle Fork Kaweah River, we reached the largest of the Hamilton Lakes, nestled in a bowl of granite at 8,235 feet, just in time for a long lunch break. Everyone took a swim in the invigorating water, but mostly we just soaked up the panorama of jagged peaks rising to over 12,000 feet that surround the lake.

See my story about that 40-mile, family backpacking trip, “Heavy Lifting: Backpacking Sequoia National Park,” with lots of photos and a video, and all stories about backpacking in the High Sierra at The Big Outside.

Get the right pack for you. See “The 10 Best Backpacking Packs
and the best ultralight backpacks.

A campsite in Alaska Basin on the Teton Crest Trail, Grand Teton National Park.
A campsite in Alaska Basin on the Teton Crest Trail.

Alaska Basin, Teton Crest Trail

A campsite in Alaska Basin on the Teton Crest Trail, Grand Teton National Park.
A campsite in Alaska Basin on the Teton Crest Trail.

There’s hardly a bad place to pitch a tent (legally) in all of Grand Teton National Park—and certainly not even a mediocre spot along the Teton Crest Trail. In fact, my list of 25 favorite backcountry campsites includes two along the TCT. But simply because I’ve always been successful at getting my desired campsites on my backcountry permit, I have always hiked through the one area along the TCT that lies outside the national park and doesn’t require a permit for camping: Alaska Basin.

But I’ve hiked through it enough times to realize what I’m missing. The two campsites shown in these photos happen to be perfect perches we passed that lie just off the TCT in the basin. Both have broad, flat areas of clean granite with amazing 360-degree panoramas of the mountains and cliffs surrounding Alaska Basin. That’s why I’ve recommended Alaska Basin as a campsite depending on the type of hiking itinerary people are seeking when I provide custom trip planning for the TCT.

See my story about my most-recent trip on the TCT, “A Wonderful Obsession: Backpacking the Teton Crest Trail.”

Get my Teton Crest Trail e-book or my custom trip planning for the TCT.

The large ledge below Yuma Point, just off the Boucher Trail in the Grand Canyon.
The large ledge below Yuma Point, just off the Boucher Trail in the Grand Canyon.

Yuma Point, Grand Canyon

Campsites below Yuma Point, along the Boucher Trail in the Grand Canyon.
Campsites below Yuma Point, along the Boucher Trail in the Grand Canyon.

On the last, hard but stunningly pretty day of a 40-mile hike from the South Kaibab to the Hermit trailhead, our group of six family and friends ascended the often steep and difficult Boucher Trail—yet another tortured footpath that illustrates why the words “hard but stunningly pretty” describe so many trails in the Big Ditch. After a long uphill grind, we reached the long, level bench the Boucher Trail follows below Yuma Point, at just over 5,400 feet, and saw immediately why in-the-know GC backpackers consider it one of the very best campsites in the canyon.

Several spacious, obviously pre-used camps on dirt sit right behind a large, flat rock ledge at the brink of cliffs overlooking a huge swath of the canyon from more than 3,000 feet above the Colorado River. Yes, I sure did imagine laying my pad and bag out on that ledge, gazing up at a night sky crazy with stars and then watching the sunrise light up the canyon. Those camps lie a short walk off the Boucher Trail 5.2 miles from the Hermit Trailhead, at 6,640 feet—and that’s about the only relatively “easy” way to get there. One drawback: Yuma Point lies right below the Dragon Corridor, where the sky is filled with a daily invasion of constant sightseeing overflights between 8 a.m. and 5 p.m.

See “Backpacking the Grand Canyon: Tonto West to Boucher Trail” and all stories about backpacking in the Grand Canyon at The Big Outside.

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

 

A backpacker in Death Hollow in southern Utah's Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument.
Todd Arndt backpacking down Death Hollow in southern Utah’s Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument.

Death Hollow, Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument

I’d read on some websites that viable campsites were non-existent in Death Hollow, in the Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument. And looking at the contour lines of this deep and generally narrow cleavage in the slickrock plateau, it did seem like a bad bet to assume one would find good camps in there. Turned out, that was wrong.

On the middle day of a three-day hike on the 22-mile Death Hollow Loop, two friends and I backpacked down the dramatic canyon of Death Hollow, frequently walking in the creek amid small cascades and weaving our way around deep, calm pools and other obstacles and hazards—and bushwhacking through thickets of poison ivy that stood taller than us. And we passed a handful of camps where we’d have been happy to spend a night on one of the best backpacking trips in the Southwest, where each of our three days presented different terrain and scenery, a sort of three-in-one wilderness adventure in landscapes that repeatedly made me to pause and just gape.

See my story “Backpacking Utah’s Mind-Blowing Death Hollow Loop” at The Big Outside.

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A backpacker passing Liberty Lake on the Ruby Crest Trail, Ruby Mountains, Nevada.
My wife, Penny, hiking past Liberty Lake on the Ruby Crest Trail, Ruby Mountains, Nevada.

Liberty Lake, Ruby Crest Trail

On the last afternoon of my family’s backpacking trip on Nevada’s Ruby Crest Trail, a steady uphill climb deposited us at the edge of Liberty Lake, a cobalt eye tucked tightly within a shoreline of granite slabs, patches of evergreen forest, and a talus mountainside. We followed the trail around and above the lake, where we stood on a ledge overlooking the lake and the long chain of the Ruby Mountains stretching into the distance (lead photo at top of story). Although camping there didn’t fit neatly into our four-day itinerary, it was easy to see why other backpackers had set up camp nearby.

Liberty Lake was not the only highlight of an approximately 36-mile, south-to-north traverse of the Ruby Crest Trail. We enjoyed a campsite on another beautiful alpine lake, wildflowers in bloom, relatively few other backpackers, and long stretches of hiking above 10,000 feet, traversing an almost treeless alpine zone for miles.

See my story about my family’s trip, “Backpacking the Ruby Crest Trail—A Diamond in the Rough,” at The Big Outside.

Get a full wilderness experience.
See “12 Expert Tips For Finding Solitude When Backpacking.”

 

A young girl hiker at Imogene Lake, Sawtooth Mountains, Idaho.
My daughter, Alex, at Imogene Lake in the Sawtooth Mountains.

Imogene Lake, Sawtooth Wilderness

Returning to Imogene Lake again for the first time in some years, on a weekend backpacking trip with my then-11-year-old daughter, I was reminded just how gorgeous this sprawling water body is. On calm days—like we had on that visit—the water reflects an Impressionist painting-like panorama of pine forest and rocky peaks.

I was actually planning to finally atone for my sin of having hiked past Imogene on at least two or three previous occasions by setting up camp here with my daughter. But we got a late start on a Friday and rolled in to Hell Roaring Lake—four miles below Imogene—after dark. So we just dayhiked to Imogene. I’ll camp there yet—I swear. Meanwhile, Hell Roaring is a pretty nice spot, too, and close enough to visit Imogene on a morning hike.

See my story “Jewels of the Sawtooths: Backpacking to Alice, Hell Roaring, and Imogene Lakes,” about father-son and father-daughter backpacking trips in Idaho’s Sawtooths, and all stories about backpacking in the Sawtooths, including in the remote southern Sawtooth Wilderness and “The Best Hikes and Backpacking Trips in Idaho’s Sawtooths.”

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A campsite below Nevills Arch in lower Owl Canyon, Bears Ears National Monument, Utah.
A campsite below Nevills Arch in lower Owl Canyon, Bears Ears National Monument, Utah.

Below Nevills Arch, Owl Canyon, Bears Ears National Monument

Consider this a shining example of “if we’d just hiked a little while longer, and started early enough to beat the party that got there first, we’d have camped here.” On the second morning of our three-day loop through Owl and Fish canyons, in southeastern Utah’s Bears Ears National Monument, we walked through the amphitheater where striking Nevills Arch presides over a sort of royal court of tall, red cliffs and pinnacles that resemble melted candles—and right past the lone campsite on flat, packed dirt that sits within the warm embrace of that amphitheater.

Having camped (at a pretty nice spot, anyway) just an easy 30-minute or shorter walk farther up Owl Canyon, it was a little painful seeing how close we’d come to enjoying this camp—although the small group who’d camped there were still packing up as we strolled past it. One of the best backpacking trips in the Southwest, the two- to three-day Owl-Fish loop offers an unusual combination of qualities: short distance, incredible scenery (and night skies), solitude, rugged hiking and scrambling, and a permit that’s easier to get than for better-known Southwest backpacking trips.

See my story “Backpacking Southern Utah’s Owl and Fish Canyons” and all stories about backpacking in Utah at The Big Outside.

A backpacker hiking past Elbow Lake on the Highline Trail in Wyoming's Wind River Range.
My wife, Penny, backpacking past Elbow Lake on the Highline Trail in Wyoming’s Wind River Range.

Elbow Lake, Wind River Range

In the week before Labor Day 2022, a prime time to be in the mountains, my wife, Penny, our friend, Chip, and I backpacked a five-day, roughly 43-mile loop from the New Fork/Doubletop Mountain Trailhead at New Fork Lakes, mostly exploring an area of the Winds I had not seen before. But we also walked a stretch of the Highline Trail (part of the Continental Divide Trail) which I had hiked previously (on this trip), reminding me not only how nice that trail is but that I’ve now hiked past Elbow Lake twice without laying out my sleeping bag there.

I rank that day among the prettiest I’ve ever hiked in the Winds—and that’s saying a lot. We started out from one of the best backcountry campsites I’ve ever had, overlooking the lower of the Twin Lakes, 12,119-foot Sky Pilot Peak, and 12,224-foot Mount Oeneis, following the Highline Trail past several alpine lakes and tarns to sprawling Elbow Lake—embraced by granite slabs and grassy earth where you can’t help but picture your tent pitched. From there, we continued to a pair of high passes and more spectacular lakes.

And as happened throughout that trip, we passed fewer than 10 people all day.

See “Backpacking Through a Lonely Corner of the Wind River Range” all stories about backpacking in the Wind River Range at The Big Outside. National forest and wilderness managers require camping at least 200 feet from any lake or trail in the Winds.

Do you love backcountry lakes?
Check out these photos of the most gorgeous wilderness lakes I’ve ever seen.

A backpacker hiking to Iceberg Lake in the Ansel Adams Wilderness, High Sierra.
David Ports backpacking to Iceberg Lake, below the Minarets in the Ansel Adams Wilderness, High Sierra.

Iceberg Lake, Ansel Adams Wilderness

Two companions and I walked one of the finest sections of the John Muir Trail on a nine-day, north-south trek of nearly 130 miles through the Ansel Adams and John Muir Wildernesses and Kings Canyon National Park, exploring high lakes basins and crossing passes at 11,000 to 12,000 feet. But one highlight came early in that trip, when we detoured off the JMT to hike below the row of jagged spires called the Minarets in the Ansel Adams.

On the steep uphill hike from Ediza Lake—itself a nice spot to pitch a tent—we reached Iceberg Lake, tucked into a compact bowl at 9,774 feet right at the foot of sheer rock walls that rise to sharp points. Not far from the lakeshore, we saw some perfect little patches of dirt for tents. The Minarets can be visited on a weekend or three- to four-day hike that will give you a great sampler of the central High Sierra.

See photos and read about this area in my story “High Sierra Ramble: 130 Miles On—and Off—the John Muir Trail,” and check out “10 Great John Muir Trail Section Hikes” and all stories about backpacking in the High Sierra at The Big Outside.

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

A backpacker at Dead Horse Lake on the Uinta Highline Trail, High Uintas Wilderness, Utah.
My son, Nate, at Dead Horse Lake on the Uinta Highline Trail, High Uintas Wilderness, Utah.

Dead Horse Lake, Uinta Highline Trail, High Uintas Wilderness

In an unusual window of warm and mostly clear weather in early October, my 24-year-old son, Nate, and I backpacked nearly 60 miles through Utah’s High Uintas Wilderness, mostly on the Uinta Highline Trail—which blew us away. We had some great camps, but one we sadly walked past was beside Dead Horse Lake, at around 10,900 feet at the head of a lake-filled basin tucked inside a ragged horseshoe of castle-like peaks between Red Knob Pass, at 12,000 feet, and Dead Horse Pass, at 11,600 feet.

Getting there isn’t easy from any direction—which typically ensures more solitude—and neither is getting out. Hiking southbound from the lake on the Uinta Highline, we climbed below tall cliffs and sheer buttresses soaring several hundred feet above us, the trail tilting steeply upward, weaving through huge boulders, and frequently consisting of no more than a goat path of boot prints across sliding scree. At Dead Horse Pass, I told Nate, “I think I know what killed the horse.”

Still, the High Uintas, and especially the Uinta Highline Trail, deserve more attention from serious backpackers than they get: This place is a big, majestic wilderness with 13,000-foot peaks and over 1,000 mountain lakes. Go there.

See my story “Backpacking—and Sandbagging—Utah’s Uinta Highline Trail” and all stories about backpacking in Utah’s High Uintas at The Big Outside.

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The Narrows, Zion National Park

Second morning in The Narrows, Zion National Park.
Second morning in Zion’s Narrows.

Rather than pick one of the campsites in Zion’s Narrows that a friend and I hiked past—we stayed in campsite one, which made my list of 25 favorite backcountry campsites—I have to give all of the 11 other designated campsites in The Narrows a collective spot on this list.

On the second day of an overnight, top-to-bottom backpacking trip of The Narrows, we checked out campsites two through 12, and I eventually gave up on the idea of picking a favorite. Each one sits within sight and earshot of the burbling river, below sheer, multi-colored walls rising hundreds of feet to a ribbon of sky overhead. Some may have a little more space or some other appeal; but given the location, any one of them guarantees you an incomparable night.

See my story “Luck of the Draw, Part 2: Backpacking Zion’s Narrows.”

Do this trip right using my e-book “The Complete Guide to Backpacking Zion’s Narrows.”

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

Indian Ridge, Yosemite National Park

On our first night in the backcountry during a four-day, 45-mile hike in Yosemite, a friend and I carried water up onto Indian Ridge, on Yosemite Valley’s North Rim, and found a great campsite a short walk from an unnamed dome overlooking a panorama that took in Half Dome and distant mountains to the south. We watched a sunset linger until the final light of day dripped from the sky.

But not long after hitting the trail the next morning, we saw where we wished we had camped. A little farther down Indian Ridge, the terrain opens up and flat spots abound just off the trail—where we saw no other backpackers. We had a much closer and more spectacular view looking directly at the huge Northwest Face of Half Dome just across the deep gulf of the Valley. Park regulations require camping at least a half-mile from the North Rim of Yosemite Valley—which is easy to achieve and have plenty of spots to choose from on Indian Ridge—and more significantly, you have to carry water up there.

But I don’t know of another spot in the backcountry where you can camp with that kind of view of Yosemite Valley.

See my feature story about that trip, “Yosemite’s Best-Kept Secret Backpacking Trip.”

Get the right shelter for your trips. See “The 10 Best Backpacking Tents
and “How to Choose the Best Ultralight Backpacking Tent for You.”

Elizabeth Lake in Glacier National Park.
Elizabeth Lake in Glacier National Park.

Elizabeth Lake, Glacier National Park

I first included Elizabeth Lake on this list after backpacking Glacier’s magnificent Northern Loop, which I describe how to plan and hike in my e-book “The Best Backpacking Trip in Glacier National Park.” But since then, I’ve returned to Glacier to make a comparably awe-inspiring, 90-mile, north-south traverse of the park, mostly following the Continental Divide Trail, but with some variations I built into the route to show friends who accompanied me what I consider some the finest scenery in Glacier (described in this e-book).

And on our first night of that more-recent trip, we camped at Elizabeth Lake—and I got the photo above early the next morning, as the calm, chill air turned the lake into a mirror reflecting the surrounding, jagged peaks. So technically, I’ve now hiked past Elizabeth (twice, actually) and camped there, but I decided it still belongs on this list so that you don’t risk passing up a chance to spend a night there.

See my stories about backpacking Glacier’s Northern Loop and Gunsight Pass Trail and about traversing the park mostly following the Continental Divide Trail, and my most recent hike in Glacier, a weeklong traverse mostly on the CDT with an itinerary and camps that varied from the first CDT trip.

Glacier ranks among “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips.”

A campsite beneath a huge undercut near Jacob Hamblin Arch in Coyote Gulch, Utah.
A campsite beneath a huge undercut near Jacob Hamblin Arch in Coyote Gulch, Utah.

Jacob Hamblin Arch, Coyote Gulch

I had fully intended for our group of two families to spend our second night backpacking Coyote Gulch right beneath Jacob Hamblin Arch; I remembered, from a trip there years earlier, that it’s a magical spot to layover and watch the light shift.

But when our group reached Coyote Natural Bridge that afternoon, the kids were ready to call it a day; and it being about an hour (at a family pace) downstream from Jacob Hamblin, and not a bad place at all to pitch tents on the broad, sandy beach below the bridge (it was formerly on my top 25 best backcountry campsites list), I quickly gave up on the idea of reaching the arch. I also knew the arch is a popular spot, so all available sites could be snapped up by the time we got there. It turned out they weren’t, and a prime campsite, on the upstream side looking right up at the arch, was actually empty when we got there the next morning. Oh, well.

See my story about backpacking Coyote Gulch and dayhiking slot canyons and trails in Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument and neighboring Bryce Canyon and Capitol Reef national parks for more photos, videos, and detailed trip-planning information.

After Coyote Gulch, hike the rest of “The 12 Best Backpacking Trips in the Southwest.”

A backpacker on the Shannon Pass Trail above Peak Lake, Wind River Range, Wyoming.
Mark Fenton backpacking past Peak Lake, Wind River Range, Wyoming.

Island Lake and Peak Lake, Wind River Range

Island Lake, in the Wind River Range, Wyoming.
Island Lake in the Wind River Range.

Take a long walk in the Winds and you can hardly swing an extended tent pole without hitting a lake or tarn. When two friends and I backpacked a roughly 41-mile loop in the Winds, I deliberately planned a route that included a night in Titcomb Basin, where lakes shimmer below the soaring granite walls of 13,000-foot peaks. But we inevitably hiked past countless, pretty lakes that presented alluring campsites.

Two of the most memorable were Island Lake, where we stopped for lunch en route to Titcomb, and Peak Lake, which nestles in a tiny bowl below peaks that resemble incisors, and which we reached after hiking cross-country from Titcomb over Knapsack Col and down a lonely valley to reach the Shannon Pass Trail. On a trip where a shocking number of lakes feel like one of the prettiest spots on the planet, these two have burned lasting images in memory.

See my story about that trip, “Best of the Wind River Range: Backpacking to Titcomb Basin” all stories about backpacking in the Wind River Range at The Big Outside.

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A campsite in trees on the beach beside Hance Rapids in the Grand Canyon.
A campsite in trees on the beach beside Hance Rapids in the Grand Canyon.

By the Colorado River at Hance Rapids, Grand Canyon

While I have camped on the beach at Hance Rapids on the Colorado River (it’s on my top 25 best backcountry campsites list), more recently, I backpacked past that beach on a six-day trip that I concluded—after several trips in the Big Ditch—is “the best backpacking trip in the Grand Canyon.” As we left that beach, we walked past a spacious (and empty!) campsite fully enclosed by trees that cast substantial shade.

Anyone who’s hiked in the canyon understands the value of shade—especially in a campsite. We had many miles to go that day, so we didn’t stop. But the beach at Hance Rapids on the Colorado River has long been on my radar (since I took this three-day hike) as a spot to plan spending a night when hiking through this corner of the canyon. This shady site will be the first place I check for occupants the next time I plan to bed down on that beach.

See my story “The Best Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon,” which includes a potential night at Hance Rapids, and all stories about backpacking in the Grand Canyon at The Big Outside.

Get my expert e-books to “The Best Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon,” and a trip easier for first-timers, “The Best First Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon.”

A backpacker hiking past Marie Lake on the John Muir Trail, John Muir Wilderness, High Sierra.
Marco Garofalo backpacking past Marie Lake on the John Muir Trail, John Muir Wilderness, High Sierra.

Marie Lake, John Muir Trail

Marie Lake, John Muir Trail.
Marie Lake, John Muir Trail.

It was the fourth morning of our seven-day thru-hike of the John Muir Trail through California’s High Sierra, from Yosemite National Park to Mount Whitney. Three friends and I were climbing toward Selden Pass in the John Muir Wilderness and not even thinking about taking a break yet; we wouldn’t stop for the night until hours later.

Below us, Marie Lake lay still in a bowl of granite ledges with trees dotting the landscape, rocky islands in the lake, and an infinite selection of places around the lake to temporarily call home.

This was one of the most painful times I’ve hiked past a beautiful backcountry camp.

And in August 2022, I did it again when two companions and I backpacked past Marie Lake—although only after enjoying a nice swim and lunch there—on a nine-day trek of nearly 130 miles through the Ansel Adams and John Muir wildernesses and Kings Canyon National Park.

See my stories “Thru-Hiking the John Muir Trail in 7 Days: Amazing Experience, or Certifiably Insane?” “10 Great John Muir Trail Section Hikes,” and “High Sierra Ramble: 130 Miles On—and Off—the John Muir Trail,” and all stories about backpacking in the High Sierra at The Big Outside.

Want my help planning your JMT thru-hike?

I’ve helped many readers plan all the details of this classic trip, including getting a very hard-to-get permit, figuring out how many days to take, and finding the best campsites. See my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you. 

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

A backpacker enjoying the dawn light at a campsite by Pyramid Lake in the Wind River Range, Wyoming.
Chip Roser enjoying the dawn light at our campsite by Pyramid Lake in the Wind River Range, Wyoming.

Pyramid Lake, Wind River Range

A backpacker above Pyramid Lake in the Wind River Range, Wyoming.
Chip Roser backpacking above Pyramid Lake in the Wind River Range, Wyoming.

It sure seems like I keep walking past really nice campsites in the Winds—maybe I just need to spend more time there. On an August trip with my son a few summers back, we aborted a planned four-day loop crossing the Continental Divide twice and finishing through the Cirque of the Towers—because the weather was so bad, with almost continuous rain and virtually no views of the mountains and no sign it would improve. But we did hike from one camp to visit Pyramid Lake and saw enough of its surroundings to know I wanted to return.

Now I’m happy to call this a success story because I did get back to this part of the Winds in August 2023, on a four-day, nearly 41-mile hike crossing four high passes, when a friend and I spent our first backcountry night a short walk from the shore of Pyramid Lake. At nearly 10,600 feet, the lake nestles in a rocky basin at the foot of 11,978-foot Pyramid Peak (which we scrambled up on that trip), 12,454-foot Mount Hooker, and 12,185-foot Tower Peak. (The lake is also a short, cross-country hike from the valley of the East Fork River on the Wind River High Route, which I write about in this story about the Wind River High Route).

See my story about that August 2023 trip, “The Best Backpacking Trip in the Wind River Range? Yup” and all stories about backpacking in the Wind River Range at The Big Outside.

Planning a backpacking trip? See “How to Plan a Backpacking Trip—12 Expert Tips
and “How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be.”

A waterfall and swimming hole in the Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne River.

Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne River, Yosemite National Park

On day three of a four-day, 87-mile, backpacking trip in the remote, northern reaches of Yosemite with my friend Todd, we reached one of that trek’s scenic highlights: the Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne River. With granite walls soaring hundreds of feet above a crystal-clear river that tumbles over innumerable waterfalls, massive boulders, and a beautiful bed of cobblestones, the canyon bears a striking resemblance to the park’s iconic feature, Yosemite Valley—except that it’s twice as long and has no roads or buildings and few people.

Todd and I actually spent a pleasant night in the Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne, initially sleeping under the stars on a big granite slab by the river, then quickly pitching our tarp in the woods when rain started falling after dark. But we didn’t score one of the several primo campsites we saw in the canyon, either because we walked past them before we were ready to stop for the night, or someone else already occupied them. To grab one of the campsites that sit near any of the waterfalls and great swimming holes, I suggest trying to reach the mid-canyon stretch by early afternoon, before most other backpackers.

See many more images, a video, and trip-planning trips in my story about that backpacking trip in northern Yosemite, “Best of Yosemite: Backpacking Remote Northern Yosemite,” and all of my stories about Yosemite at The Big Outside, including “Best of Yosemite, Part 1: Backpacking South of Tuolumne Meadows,” about a 65-mile hike south of Tuolumne.

Get my expert e-books to backpacking the 65-mile hike south of Tuolumne Meadows
and the 87-mile hike through northern Yosemite (which includes shorter options).

 

Bench Lakes, Sawtooth Wilderness, Idaho.
Bench Lakes, Sawtooth Wilderness, Idaho.

Bench Lakes, Sawtooth Wilderness

As we hiked past the second-highest of a string of five lakes that sit above 8,000 feet on the east side of the Sawtooths, the glassy waters of a calm early morning offered a perfect reflection of the incisor summit ridge of Mount Heyburn high above us. It was early on a long day my friend Chip Roser and I would spend climbing Heyburn, and would ultimately be one of the day’s finest moments. A rough, sometimes-obscure use trail leads to the Bench Lakes from Trail 101 above Redfish Lake. The highest of the Bench Lakes, at over 8,600 feet, is the most alpine of them and has campsites right at the foot of Heyburn.

See all stories about the Sawtooths at The Big Outside, including “The Best of Idaho’s Sawtooths: Backpacking Redfish to Pettit,” “Photo Gallery: Mountain Lakes of Idaho’s Sawtooths,” and “The Best Hikes and Backpacking Trips in Idaho’s Sawtooths.”

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

Campsite at Toltec Beach on the Royal Arch Loop in the Grand Canyon.
Campsite at Toltec Beach on the Royal Arch Loop in the Grand Canyon.

Toltec Beach, Royal Arch Loop, Grand Canyon

As with the Tetons, there’s not likely a bad campsite in the GC—or at least none that I’ve found. But when three friends and I reached Toltec Beach, beside the Colorado River on the Grand Canyon’s very rugged, 34.5-mile Royal Arch Loop, around lunchtime on our second day, we all made a vow to return there. The river offered an area to cool ourselves in the water, there was a tree casting nice shade onto the sand, and the views, of course, were epic.

The Royal Arch Loop makes a top-to-bottom-and-back-up circuit of the canyon—going from a words-can’t-do-it-justice panorama at the rim to dipping your toes in the Colorado. It delivers a highlights reel of just about every type of physical feature that makes backpacking in the Grand Canyon unique: sweeping views, an intimate side canyon with lush hanging gardens nurtured by a vibrant stream, a high solitude quotient, and one drop-dead gorgeous campsite after another.

See my story about that trip “Not Quite Impassable: Backpacking the Grand Canyon’s Royal Arch Loop,” and all stories about backpacking in the Grand Canyon at The Big Outside


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A hiker passing Snowdrift Lake in Avalanche Canyon, Grand Teton National Park.
David Ports hiking past Snowdrift Lake during a 20-mile dayhike through the Tetons.

Snowdrift Lake, Grand Teton National Park

I’ve had the pleasure of gazing upon the emerald waters of this alpine lake four times now—and I actually did once pitch a tent on a slope above the lake, but never in the site at the lake’s eastern end. A long, oval, often wind-battered gem parked at the head of Avalanche Canyon, just a few hundred feet below 10,680-foot Avalanche Divide and the long cliff band named The Wall, Snowdrift is not reached by any official park trail.

But there is an unofficial, unmarked, rough, and strenuous user trail that climbs up Avalanche Canyon; it branches west off the Valley Trail just north of Taggart Lake. It’s a hard trail to carry a pack up, and not much easier to carry a pack down (and finding the easy, safe way through the cliffs below Snowdrift Lake is trickier going downhill than uphill; I’ve done it in both directions). The easiest access to Snowdrift is hiking the good trail from South Fork Cascade Canyon up to Avalanche Divide, then hiking cross-country, over easy terrain, down to the east end of Snowdrift. The campsite is exposed, so don’t go if it’s windy or in bad weather.

See all of my stories about Grand Teton National Park, including this story that describes how to hike to Snowdrift Lake in Avalanche Canyon.

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

A campsite in Phelps Basin, Glacier Peak Wilderness, Washington.
A campsite in Phelps Basin, Glacier Peak Wilderness, Washington. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan this trip.

Phelps Basin and Spider Gap route, Glacier Peak Wilderness

Above Spider Meadow, Glacier Peak Wilderness
Above Spider Meadow, Glacier Peak Wilderness.

On the first afternoon of a spectacular, five-day family hike of the Spider Gap-Buck Creek Pass Loop through Washington’s Glacier Peak Wilderness—among my favorite wild lands—we camped in a spacious, established site in the woods above Spider Meadow and minutes below Phelps Basin. Two other parties had already grabbed the available sites in Phelps Basin (photo above), as I discovered, to my dismay, when we took an evening stroll up there.

The next morning, we carried our packs up the trail to Spider Gap, passing more campers perched on the bench atop a steep wall of earth high above Spider Meadow (photo at right). Whenever I get back there again, it will be exceedingly difficult to choose between these two spots.

See my story, with lots of images, about our five-day, family-backpacking trip in Washington’s Glacier Peak Wilderness.

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Arrowhead Lake, Sawtooth Wilderness, Idaho.

Arrowhead Lake, Sawtooth Wilderness

Since my first of now many trips into Idaho’s Sawtooths, I’ve often marveled at how these toothy, granite peaks remind me of the High Sierra—without the crowds of hikers found in parts of the Sierra. My friend Jeff Wilhelm and I hiked past Arrowhead Lake on the second morning of a four-day trip and immediately agreed we needed to return with fishing poles and stay longer. I snapped this photo when Jeff walked out onto the granite spit jutting into the lake.

See my story about that backpacking in the remote southern Sawtooth Wilderness and my story “The Best Hikes and Backpacking Trips in Idaho’s Sawtooths.”

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

A backpacker in the East Fork River Valley on the Wind River High Route, Wyoming.
Kristian Blaich backpacking up the East Fork River Valley on the Wind River High Route, Wyoming.

The Wind River High Route

Michael Lanza of The Big Outside in the Alpine Lakes Valley on the Wind River High Route.
Me in the Alpine Lakes Valley on the Wind River High Route.

When three friends and I set out on a seven-day, 96-mile traverse of the Wind River High Route—65 miles of which is off-trail, including nine of 10 named alpine passes between roughly 11,000 and 13,000 feet—we expected to be dazzled by one of the very best wilderness treks any of us had ever taken. And it exceeded expectations.

Inevitably, we hiked past many spots we’d love to have set up camp for the night. But two spots, in particular, stood out for me. One was in the valley of the East Fork River, where we hiked below a long chain of towering cliffs and soaked in frigid pools between cascades that tumbled over granite slabs in the shallow river. The second spot was in the long valley of the Alpine Lakes—one of the most starkly beautiful places I’ve ever seen. High above one of those lakes, we crossed a wide, grassy shelf sprinkled with rocks that looked like a little piece of the Scottish Highlands transported to the Wyoming mountains. It pained me to not stop there.

Read my story about that trip, “Adventure and Adversity on the Wind River High Route.”

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Backpackers relaxing in the shaded campsite at Hance Creek in the Grand Canyon.
Relaxing in the shaded campsite at Hance Creek in the Grand Canyon.

Hance Creek, Grand Canyon

This is another success story. The camping area on Hance Creek, on the east side of Horseshoe Mesa, earned a spot on this list when I backpacked past it with my then-10-year-old daughter on this three-day hike. That’s my justification for keeping it on this list—even though I’m happy to report that I’ve since returned and spent a night there (photo above) on a six-day trip that I’ve described as “the best backpacking trip in the Grand Canyon.”

Not to be confused with the beach at Hance Rapids on the Colorado River—which is several trail miles from and a couple thousand feet below the camping area at Hance Creek—the camping zone at Hance Creek is flanked by sheer, vibrantly red walls that by late afternoon cast a long, blessed shadow to give us relief from the sun.

See my story “The Best Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon,” which includes a potential night at Hance Rapids.

Click here now for my expert e-book to the best backpacking trip in the Grand Canyon.

A hiker above Scoop Lake in the Boulder Chain Lakes, White Cloud Mountains, Idaho.
Scott White hiking above Scoop Lake in the Boulder Chain Lakes, White Cloud Mountains, Idaho.

Upper Boulder Chain Lakes, White Cloud Mountains

On a 28-mile, one-day loop hike through the heart of one of the most scenic Western mountain ranges that most hikers have never heard of, Idaho’s White Clouds, two friends and I scrambled off-trail up a very steep headwall, passed through a notch in a row of pinnacles, then picked up a trail and descended into the valley of a string of pearls known as the Boulder Chain Lakes. While we would run into backpackers camped at the lower lakes, we saw no one at three of the highest and most remote of the chain, Headwall Lake, Scoop Lake, and Hummock Lake, perched amid copses of conifers beneath peaks of unbelievably white rock that give these mountains their name.

Read my story about a 28-mile dayhike through Idaho’s White Cloud Mountains, with more photos and trip-planning info.

That White Clouds hike is featured in “Extreme Hiking: America’s Best Hard Dayhikes.”

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

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Video: Hiking Utah’s Slot Canyons Peek-A-Boo and Spooky Gulch https://thebigoutsideblog.com/video-utahs-slot-canyons-peek-a-boo-gulch-and-spooky-gulch/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/video-utahs-slot-canyons-peek-a-boo-gulch-and-spooky-gulch/#comments Tue, 25 Mar 2025 09:00:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=10827 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Send four kids age 10 to 12 through a tight slot canyon where they have to pull themselves over short pour-offs, duck through natural arches, and twist and contort their bodies to squeeze between wildly curved walls that frequently narrow to just inches wide, and they hardly stop gushing about it. “Wow, this is so cool!” “That’s amazing!” “Awesome!” We heard a lot of that when my friend Justin Hayes and I hiked Peek-a-Boo Gulch and Spooky Gulch in southern Utah’s Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument with our kids. Watch this video and you’ll see why.

Spring and fall are the seasons to explore these two classic Southwest desert slot canyons, which are beginner-friendly and can be linked up in an easy hike of just a few hours. Scroll down below the video to the link to my story about hiking Peek-a-Boo and Spooky and elsewhere in the Escalante and other Utah parks.


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.


Read my story about that trip, “Playing the Memory Game in Utah’s Escalante, Capitol Reef, and Bryce Canyon,” which included backpacking Coyote Gulch in the Escalante; it has many photos and tips on pulling off this adventure yourself.

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

As long as you’re frittering away your time daydreaming, visit my Youtube page, where you’ll find many more videos from stories at this blog.

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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.

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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.

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

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.

Get the right pack for you. See “The 10 Best Backpacking Packs
and the best ultralight backpacks.

A campsite at Overland Lake on the Ruby Crest Trail, Ruby Mountains, Nevada.
Our campsite at Overland Lake on the Ruby Crest Trail, Ruby Mountains, Nevada.

Overland Lake, Ruby Crest Trail

My family reached Overland Lake in late afternoon on day two of a four-day, approximately 36-mile traverse of the Ruby Crest Trail in Nevada’s Ruby Mountains. Immediately—and literally—the three teenagers (including a friend of our daughter’s) staked out their tents turf on the flat top of rocky ledges just a few steps (but several feet) above the wind-whipped waters of the lake.

Morning light on Overland Lake on the Ruby Crest Trail.
Morning light on Overland Lake on the Ruby Crest Trail.

Although the wind blew all that night—and my wife and I pitched our tent in a more protected spot amid trees about 25 feet behind their tents—we all enjoyed eating and hanging out on that ledge while the evening sun poured alpenglow onto the west-facing peaks and cliffs above Overland Lake.

For several years, I’d been hankering to hike the Ruby Crest and explore a wilderness area that sees relatively few backpackers and dayhikers compared to marquis parks and mountain ranges around the West. We saw wildflowers blooming and incredible terrain, as well as relatively few mosquitoes… or other backpackers. Overland is a logical stop for Ruby Crest Trail backpackers, sitting at the southern end of a 12-mile day that stays high above treeline, with sweeping views.

See my story “Backpacking the Ruby Crest Trail—A Diamond in the Rough.”

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

A backpacker at a campsite in Painter Basin, with Kings Peak in the distance, High Uintas Wilderness, Utah.
My son, Nate, at our campsite in Painter Basin, with Kings Peak in the upper right background, High Uintas Wilderness, Utah.

Painter Basin, High Uintas Wilderness

On the third afternoon of a six-day, roughly 58-mile loop hike in northeastern Utah’s High Uintas Wilderness, we reached our second 11,000-foot pass of the day—Trail Rider Pass at 11,700 feet—and paused to catch the breath stolen away by both the climb and the view of an imposing row of 13,000-foot peaks, including 13,528-foot summit of Kings Peak, Utah’s highest.

A campsite in Painter Basin below 13,538-foot Kings Peak (right), High Uintas Wilderness, Utah.
Our campsite in Painter Basin below 13,538-foot Kings Peak (right), High Uintas Wilderness, Utah.

Then we descended through switchbacks into an alpine garden of rocks and creeks called Painter Basin, where we pitched our tents at around 11,000 feet in the long shadow of Kings Peak. The sun dipped behind Kings, igniting the tall, billowing clouds that filled the sky in a wide arc overhead—a beautiful evening that foreshadowed a night sky riddled with stars. The next day, we dayhiked some 10 miles and 2,500 vertical feet to the crown of Utah, a fun and scenic day.

I returned to Painter Basin in early October 2024 (going on short notice with an unusually good weather window) with my son on the first night of a four-day, roughly 60-mile traverse mostly on the Uinta Highline Trail—and Painter graced us with lovely dawn light on those big peaks. Much of both trips occurred between 10,000 and 12,000 feet and delivered a considerable degree of solitude and beauty.

See my stories “Backpacking—and Sandbagging—Utah’s Uinta Highline Trail” and “Tall and Lonely: Backpacking Utah’s High Uintas Wilderness” and all stories that feature the High Uintas Wilderness at The Big Outside.

Get a full wilderness experience.
See “12 Expert Tips For Finding Solitude When Backpacking.”

Johns Hopkins Inlet, Glacier Bay National Park.
Johns Hopkins Inlet, Glacier Bay National Park.

Johns Hopkins Inlet, Glacier Bay National Park

For one of the trips for my book about taking our kids on wilderness adventures in national parks facing threats from climate change, we took a five-day sea kayaking trip in southeast Alaska’s Glacier Bay, where cliffs shoot straight up out of the sea and razor peaks smothered in ice and snow rise thousands of feet overhead. We watched bald eagles and other birds flying overhead, harbor seals popping up out of the water near our boats, Stellar sea lions honking and carrying on while sprawled on the rocks of South Marble Island, and brown bears roaming rocky beaches looking for food.

We spent two nights at this campsite near the mouth of Johns Hopkins Inlet. From there, we kayaked up the inlet to within about a quarter-mile of the mile-wide snout of the Johns Hopkins Glacier; a thousand or more seals occupied floating icebergs or swam around the inlet. Throughout the evenings and mornings in camp, we listened to that massive glacier calve another bus-size chunk of itself into the sea every 20 or 30 minutes, with an explosive sound the native Tlingits called “white thunder.”

See my story “Back to the Ice Age: Sea Kayaking Glacier Bay.”


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A campsite at night by the Colorado River at Hance Rapids in the Grand Canyon.
Our campsite at night by the Colorado River at Hance Rapids in the Grand Canyon.

Beside Hance Rapids, Colorado River, Grand Canyon National Park

The first day of a three-day backpacking trip in the Grand Canyon with my 10-year-old daughter, Alex, and two other families was a tough one: descending nearly 5,000 vertical feet in 6.5 miles on the rugged New Hance Trail. By the time we reached our campsites beside the Colorado River, everyone was whipped. But sometimes it takes a hard day of hiking to reach a magical spot, and this lonely corner on the floor of the Big Ditch is a pretty good place to rest tired legs.

Backpackers at a campsite in Ruby Canyon, along the Gems Route in the Grand Canyon.
Dawn light above our campsite in Ruby Canyon, along the Gems Route in the Grand Canyon.

Our front porch offered a view of redrock cliffs just across the river. The gravelly drone of Hance Rapids drowned out all other noise. Night fell like a black curtain to reveal a sky riddled with far more bullet holes than all the road signs in Arizona combined (and these holes glowed). Morning brought a sharp chill to the air—it was November—and the slow, patient unfolding of dawn light descending (kind of like very tired backpackers) from the South Rim a vertical mile above us to the mid-canyon geologic layers and, finally, bathing our campsite in warmth. We left there completely rejuvenated.

See my story “A Matter of Perspective: A Father-Daughter Hike in the Grand Canyon” for more images, a video, and tips on planning this trip, and all stories about Grand Canyon backpacking trips at The Big Outside . See also my story “The Best Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon,” about a trip where the beach at Hance Rapids is a potential campsite, and get my expert e-book also titled “The Best Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon” to find out all you need to know to plan and pull off that amazing multi-day hike.

So many spots where I’ve camped in the Grand Canyon would make most people’s list of best camps ever. But I’d be remiss to not mention that every one of our camps for five nights on the GC’s Gems Route—the most remote section of the Tonto Trail and one of the canyon’s most remote trips—featured breathtaking views and a shocking amount of solitude. See my story “Let’s Talk Water: Backpacking the Grand Canyon’s Gems.”

Get my expert e-books to “The Best First Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon
and “The Best Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon.”

A backpacker enjoying the dawn light at a campsite by Pyramid Lake in the Wind River Range, Wyoming.
Chip Roser enjoying the dawn light at our campsite by Pyramid Lake in the Wind River Range, Wyoming.

Pyramid Lake, Wind River Range

After several multi-day hikes all over the Winds, I’ve gotten to know those mountains well and slept in so many beautiful spots that it’s hard to select just a few among them for this story. But after hiking to Pyramid Lake once before, I fulfilled my vow then to return, pitching my tent there on the first night of a four-day loop from Big Sandy in August 2023.

A backpackers' campsite near Arrowhead Lake in the Cirque of the Towers, Wind River Range.
Our campsite near Arrowhead Lake in the Cirque of the Towers, Wind River Range.

A friend and I camped in a meadow an appropriate distance from the lakeshore, where we enjoyed a sunset that set clouds aglow and a dawn that made the peaks surrounding the lake appear to glow. That proved to be a portentous start to our 41-mile hike, which crossed four high passes, featured camps near gorgeous lakes each night—Washakie and Arrowhead followed Pyramid—and delivered the kind of solitude one can find in the Winds when you’re prepared to work for it.

I’m willing to go out on a limb and call it the best multi-day hike in the Winds.

See my story “The Best Backpacking Trip in the Wind River Range? Yup” and all stories about backpacking in the Wind River Range at The Big Outside.

Do you love backcountry lakes?
Check out these photos of the most gorgeous wilderness lakes I’ve ever seen.

 

Sunset over Thousand Island Lake along the John Muir Trail in the Ansel Adams Wilderness, High Sierra.
Sunset over Thousand Island Lake along the John Muir Trail in the Ansel Adams Wilderness, High Sierra.

Thousand Island Lake, John Muir Trail, Ansel Adams Wilderness

Few backcountry campsites launch a backpacking trip as beautifully as the first evening my two adventure partners and I spent on a nine-day, 130-mile hike through the Ansel Adams and John Muir Wildernesses and Kings Canyon National Park, mostly on the John Muir Trail. From our camp above the shore of Thousand Island Lake (shown in lead photo at top of story), we watched a sunset that blazed furiously, igniting tiers of billowing clouds drifting past in what seemed like an endless light show with multiple, unexpected encores.

As has happened, I think, every time I’ve backpacked through the High Sierra, that adventure granted us the gift of more than a few really nice camps, including Helen Lake (above) and Minaret Lake. John Muir dubbed the High Sierra the “Range of Light” and the moniker has stuck because of the way those mountains seem to cling tightly to and refuse to release the abundant sunlight they receive. Stir a fast-moving cloudscape into a sunset like we had at Thousand Island Lake and you get a scene to remember forever.

See my story about that trip, “High Sierra Ramble: 130 Miles On—and Off—the John Muir Trail,” “10 Great John Muir Trail Section Hikes,” and all stories about backpacking in the High Sierra at The Big Outside.

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

A campsite on the Dome Glacier in the Glacier Peak Wilderness.
Our campsite on the Dome Glacier in the Glacier Peak Wilderness.

Dome Glacier, Ptarmigan Traverse, Glacier Peak Wilderness

The first four nights of camping on the Ptarmigan Traverse in Washington’s North Cascades are in the alpine zone with 360-degree views of some of the most severely vertiginous and heavily glaciated and snow-covered peaks in the Lower 48. With clear skies, any of those camps might among the most memorable you’ve ever had. But besides White Rock Lakes (scroll down to the list of Past Favorite Backcountry Campsites, below), my other favorite campsite on the Ptarmigan was on the Dome Glacier, base camp for our climb of Dome Peak. Throughout a clear evening, with a sea of clouds filling the valleys below us, we looked south to the white pyramid of the volcano Glacier Peak, glowing above the clouds in the dusk light.

Climbers traditionally begin the Ptarmigan Traverse at Cascade Pass in North Cascades National Park and walk south, largely hewing close to the Cascade Crest. Beyond Dome Peak, from the Cub Lake area in the Glacier Peak Wilderness, the route descends to the Downey Creek Trailhead on Suiattle River Road. The route is mostly off-trail and crosses six glaciers; expert skills at glacier travel and navigating off-trail through mountains are required. See an excellent route description at summitpost.org/ptarmigan-traverse/154644.

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

High camp at 12,000 feet below California's Mount Whitney.
High camp at 12,000 feet below California’s Mount Whitney.

Below the East Face of Mount Whitney

In frigid blasts of wind raking the snow-covered mountainside in April, our party crested a steep slope to find ourselves facing one of the most-photographed and unforgettable mountain vistas in America: the East Face of California’s 14,505-foot Mount Whitney, highest peak in the Lower 48. On a flat pan of snow at 12,000 feet below that jagged skyline, we pitched our high camp, from which we made a successful ascent of Whitney’s Mountaineers Route the next day.

Spending two clear, starry nights in that camp, we saw the East Face in the varying light of all times of day, from dawn to sunset, dusk to dark. When I mentioned to one of our climbing partners that Whitney’s East Face was the only place I’ve seen that conjures mental images of the peaks of Torres del Paine National Park in Chilean Patagonia, this man—who’s also been to Patagonia—told me that he’d been thinking the same thing.

See my story about that trip, “Roof of the High Sierra: A Father-Son Climb of California’s Mount Whitney.”

A backpacker at Toleak Point on the coast of Olympic National Park.
A backpacker at Toleak Point on the coast of Olympic National Park.

Toleak Point, Olympic National Park

On my family’s second day of backpacking the southern Olympic coast, we had already marveled at a massive boulder in the intertidal zone on the beach that was wallpapered with hundreds of mussels, sea anemones, and vividly orange or purple starfish. We had also climbed down an 80-foot cliff on a rope ladder that was missing several rungs at its bottom.

Late that afternoon, we found a spot for our tents on the beach at Toleak Point, where dozens of the rock pinnacles called sea stacks rise out of the ocean just offshore. As the kids played in a tide pool, a sea otter emerged from the pool’s other end and flopped across the beach to plunge into the ocean. A seal cavorted in the waves near us. When I went to explore the sea stacks exposed at low tide, a great blue heron lifted off of one and soared away over the beach like a winged dinosaur. Another of the trips my family took for my book, this three-day hike on Washington’s Olympic coast is still remembered by our kids, as well as my wife and me, as one of our all-time favorite trips.

See my story “The Wildest Shore: Backpacking the Southern Olympic Coast,” with more photos, a video, and my tips on how to pull off this trip.

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Lake Ellen Wilson, Glacier National Park.
Lake Ellen Wilson, Glacier National Park.

Lake Ellen Wilson, Glacier National Park

Our weeklong backpacking trip had featured too many wildlife sightings to count—including bighorn sheep and numerous mountain goats, not to mention that we had an impending date with a sow grizzly bear and her two cubs. The scenery blew us away every day. I would have forgiven Lake Ellen Wilson, our final night’s campsite, for being anticlimactic.

But upon arriving there, we soaked tired feet in the lake’s cold, emerald-colored waters, a 20-second walk from our campsite, gazing around at a basin ringed by thousand-foot cliffs with several waterfalls pouring off of them. Then we laid down on the sun-warmed pebbles on the beach, which felt like a heated bed with built-in massage. For my friend Jerry Hapgood and me, dropping off into an afternoon nap on them was the default setting. It turned out to be our best campsite of the trip.

See my story “Descending the Food Chain: Backpacking Glacier National Park’s Northern Loop,” about backpacking my modified and expanded version of Glacier National Park’s Northern Loop, with more photos, for information on how to pull off this trip, and all stories about backpacking in Glacier at The Big Outside.

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

Big Spring camp in Paria Canyon.
Big Spring camp in Paria Canyon.

Big Spring, Paria Canyon, Vermilion Cliffs National Monument

I’d known that Paria Canyon could hold some surprises. But our two-family party found a little more adventure than we’d anticipated—which became evident when the other dad in our group, Vince, plunged hip-deep into quicksand on our first afternoon. But he managed, with considerable effort, to extricate himself; and by the next day, the kids had figured out how to identify shallow quicksand that they could stomp around in, howling with laughter. (Before the trip was over, Vince’s wife, Cat, and I would also take a quicksand dip.) We hiked for five days, mostly in the cold but usually ankle-deep Paria River, through a canyon that ranged from narrow with sheer walls to a big, open chasm between distant cliffs. While every campsite was really nice, the one at Big Spring (above), on our second night, took first prize.

Paria, which straddles the Utah-Arizona border and enters the Colorado River at Lees Ferry (where we finished our hike), at the beginning of the Grand Canyon, is unquestionably one of the great, multi-day canyon hikes of the Southwest—partly explaining why it’s so difficult to snag a permit to backpack it. But the permit system also preserves an unusual degree of solitude and a unique wilderness experience: We saw very few other people over five days, and spent much of that time on our own. (The BLM allows 20 people to start backpacking the Paria daily; we grabbed nine spots.)

See my story “The Quicksand Chronicles: Backpacking Paria Canyon,” with my tips on how to plan this trip.

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Past Favorite Backcountry Campsites

As I visit new places, I occasionally add new campsites to the list above, and have to remove some great spots from the list (to keep it to 25, a somewhat random but sensible number). But bumping a site from my list doesn’t diminish its attraction, of course. So I will keep those former favorites in the list below, to give you even more ideas and goals for future adventures.

A campsite at Upper Lyman Lakes, Glacier Peak Wilderness, Washington.
Our campsite at Upper Lyman Lakes, Glacier Peak Wilderness, Washington.

Upper Lyman Lakes, Glacier Peak Wilderness

On the second day of a five-day, 44-mile family hike through Washington’s Glacier Peak Wilderness, we ascended a long finger of snow and crossed the pass that represents the crux of this trip in terms of technical difficulty, Spider Gap, at 7,100 feet. From there, we descended snow into the head of a valley sculpted and scoured by ice just a geologic moment ago, the Upper Lyman Lakes basin.

The Lyman Glacier poured down the cliffs of 8,459-foot Chiwawa Mountain into the vividly emerald waters of the uppermost lake. Barren, snow-speckled peaks and cliffs ringed the valley on three sides. A creek leapt from the lake’s far shore, crashing over stones and a small waterfall, below which some of us took a frigid and very brief bath. Wildflowers sprung hopefully from the few, shallow patches of soil. We pitched our tents on a grassy knoll near a copse of conifer trees, with an unobstructed view of that entire basin. And we spent most of the evening watching the shifting light across the mountains until sunset lit the clouds afire, watching a pair of bucks and a few doe wander through our campsites, and, well, swatting mosquitoes. (It was late July in the North Cascades, after all.)

See my story “Wild Heart of the Glacier Peak Wilderness: Backpacking the Spider Gap-Buck Creek Pass Loop.”

Plan your next great backpacking adventure using my downloadable, expert e-guides.
Click here now to learn more.

Benson Lake in Yosemite National Park.

Benson Lake, Yosemite National Park

At dusk on the second day of a four-day, 86-mile backpacking tour of northern Yosemite—the park’s biggest swath of wilderness—my friend Todd Arndt and I strolled up to perhaps the most unlikely sight deep in the mountains: a sprawling, sandy beach that looks like it got lost on its way to Southern California. After hiking almost 23 miles that day, the trip’s longest, wiggling our toes in the cool sand and standing in the icy lake water in our bare feet reduced us to cooing babies.

A longtime backcountry ranger in Yosemite had told me that I’d find the park’s best backcountry beach at Benson Lake—but I never would have imagined such a vast expanse of fine sand deep in the mountains. It was one of many surprisingly gorgeous backcountry secrets I discovered over seven days of backpacking 151 miles through Yosemite’s most remote corners.

See my story “Best of Yosemite: Backpacking Remote Northern Yosemite,” and my story about the three-day, 65-mile first leg of that weeklong odyssey, “Best of Yosemite: Backpacking South of Tuolumne Meadows.”

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

A campsite at Tanner Beach in the Grand Canyon.
Our campsite at Tanner Beach in the Grand Canyon.

Tanner Beach, Grand Canyon National Park

A longtime backcountry ranger who has hiked every named trail in the Grand Canyon wrote an email to me recommending that I try a route off the South Rim—only a section of which I’d hiked before—that he described as “the best backpacking trip in the Grand Canyon.” Given the source of that endorsement, how could I not do it? So two friends and I backpacked a six-day, 74-mile, point-to-point traverse that took us down to campsites on the Colorado River and, of course, back up to the rim.

That hike showed us many diverse personalities of the canyon, from one of its most scenic and popular trails, the South Kaibab, to one of its most remote and primitive paths, the Escalante Route. We experienced some of the highest levels of solitude I’ve ever had on Grand Canyon trails—hiking for hours without encountering another person, and having little company at three of our four campsites. But we also spent a fun evening at a campsite with a very friendly rafting party that graciously fed us well.

And our last campsite, shaded by a rock ledge at Tanner Beach, turned out to be the best camp on the best backpacking trip in the Grand Canyon. I think you’ll see why when you read my story about that beautiful hike—titled, appropriately, “The Best Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon.” Click here now for my e-book of the same title, which will tell you everything you need to know to plan and execute that trip.

See all stories about Grand Canyon backpacking trips at The Big Outside and my e-book to “The Best First Backpacking Trip in the Grand Canyon.”

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A backpacker hiking above Columbine Lake in Sequoia National Park.
My wife, Penny, backpacking above Columbine Lake in Sequoia National Park.

Columbine Lake, Sequoia National Park

Whichever direction you approach this lake from, you will pay for the privilege of a night here with significant toil. Filling a stone basin at nearly 11,000 feet, below the distinctive spire of Sawtooth Peak and an arc of snaggle-toothed mountains, Columbine is reached either via a 600-foot hump up through dozens of switchbacks from Lost Canyon; or a much harder 1,200-foot scramble, sans maintained trail, up a steep mountainside of sliding scree from Monarch Lakes to 11,630-foot Sawtooth Gap, where a primitive but better path leads down to Columbine. (We took the former and descended from Sawtooth Gap to Monarch Lakes—and were glad we did not carry backpacks up that route.)

Once there, though, your effort is (mostly) forgotten. We explored the granite ledges on the northshore of the lake, where crevices and small bowls in the granite hold tinypockets of water and you sometimes have to scramble on all fours over short, vertical walls. Alpenglow painted the peaks a salmon hue in the evening–of course—and sunrise cast an unbelievable pallet of orange, yellow, and reds onto a curlicue sculpture of clouds hovering just above one jagged ridge nearby. While not easy on the legs, Columbine Lake is very easy on the eyes.

See my story “Heavy Lifting: Backpacking Sequoia National Park” about this six-day backpacking trip, which included Precipice and Columbine lakes, with many more photos, a video, and information for planning this trip yourself. As of 2021, Sequoia National Park prohibits camping within 100 feet of Columbine’s lakeshore, to help protect the lake from use impacts.

Middle Fork Rapid Transit rafts on Idaho's Middle Fork Salmon River.
Our rafts parked at Whitie Cox camp on Idaho’s Middle Fork Salmon River.

Whitie Cox Camp, Middle Fork Salmon River, ID

Boy, it’s hard to pick one campsite that outdoes all others on the Middle Fork of the Salmon—they’re all pretty darn nice, often on large beaches in a canyon flanked by cliffs and mountainsides of pine forest, rocky crags, and golden grasses rising to summits 3,000 feet overhead. But for me, one stands out, and my family has, just by coincidence, camped there on both of our six-day rafting and kayaking trips down the Middle Fork.

In July 2019, on our second Middle Fork trip, joined by 20 good friends that included families with teens and young adults, we once again spent our second of five nights on the river at Whitie Cox camp. Just above a sweeping bend in the river, the camp has views up and down the canyon and a sprawling beach where the group sat in a large circle of folding chairs and talked and laughed for hours. After dark, some of us laid out our pads and bags on the sand and slept under the stars to the sound of the river softly murmuring past. In early morning, several of us hiked nearly a thousand feet up a ridge to an amazing vista up and down the canyon.

The Middle Fork, deep in central Idaho’s sprawling, 2.4-million-acre Frank Church-River of No Return Wilderness, is rightly known as one of the great multi-day, wilderness river trips in America—if not the greatest—for its mix of breathtaking scenery, frequent rapids up to class III and IV, numerous hiking opportunities, hot springs, world-class trout fishing… and beautiful campsites.

See my story about that most-recent trip on Idaho’s Middle Fork Salmon River, and my story about my family’s first trip down the Middle Fork when our kids were four years younger.

See also my story about my involvement helping to create a new long-distance trail through the vast wilderness areas of central Idaho, which includes the Middle Fork Salmon River Trail, “America’s Newest Long Trail: The Idaho Wilderness Trail.”

Camp Schurman on Mount Rainier.
Camp Schurman on Mount Rainier.

Camp Schurman, Mount Rainier National Park

Camp Schurman sits at 9,460 feet, on the very tip of Steamboat Prow, a cleaver of busted volcanic rock and dust. Two massive glaciers, the Emmons and Winthrop, part around this stone prow in a way that illustrates how frozen water behaves much the same as its liquid form. More than four square miles of moving ice, thousands of years old, and stretching over nearly 9,000 feet of elevation, the Emmons is the largest glacier in the Lower 48; the Winthrop isn’t much smaller. When two friends and I set off to climb the Emmons in early August a few years ago, with much of the snow melted off the glaciers, they displayed heavy scarring: huge, frighteningly beautiful crevasses as plentiful as waves on a storm-tossed ocean.

A two-foot-high, oval, stone wall shielded our tentsite from the irrepressible, bone-chilling wind. Standing outside our tent, I was struck by the mind-boggling scale of Mt. Rainier. Looking up at the mountain, I couldn’t fit it all within my peripheral vision. And yet, I knew I was looking at a tiny fraction of Rainier—which made me feel both very small and very fortunate for just being there.

Getting There From White River Campground at 4,400 feet, five miles past the White River ranger station (get a climbing permit there), hike the Glacier Basin Trail 3.2 miles to Glacier Basin Camp, at 6,000 feet. Follow a climbers’ trail up into the basin, reaching the Inter Glacier (good training ground for new climbers) at around 6,800 feet. Climb to Curtis Camp on the ridge north of Mt. Ruth, then descend off the ridge onto the Emmons Glacier and continue to Camp Schurman at 9,460 feet.

Map/Guidebook Trails Illustrated Mt. Rainier no. 217, $11.95, (800) 962-1643, natgeomaps.com. Mt. Rainier—A Climbing Guide, by Mike Gauthier, $18.95, mountaineersbooks.org.

Contact Mt. Rainier National Park, nps.gov/mora.

Granite Park, John Muir Wilderness.
Granite Park, John Muir Wilderness.

Granite Park, John Muir Wilderness

On the second night of a three-day, 32-mile, partly cross-country traverse of the John Muir Wilderness from North Lake Trailhead to Mosquito Flat Trailhead in the High Sierra, we pitched our tents in Granite Park, an aptly named high valley speckled with scores of alpine lakes and tarns and encircled by an arc of 12,000- and 13,000-foot spires of barren, golden stone. In the evening, the sinking sun painted the peaks, lakes, and granitic landscape in a shifting, vivid light that was absolutely captivating. We couldn’t tear our eyes from the light show that went on for a few hours. When the last alpenglow faded away, night brought a sky riddled with stars.

In the morning, we set out early and I got the above shot of my friend Jason Kauffman passing a lake minutes from our campsite.

See my story and more photos about backpacking a 32-mile, partly off-trail traverse in the John Muir Wilderness for information on how to pull off this trip.

On a hike above "Kid Rock" campsite, Stillwater Canyon, Green River, Canyonlands.
On a hike above “Kid Rock” campsite, Stillwater Canyon, Green River, Canyonlands.

“Kid Rock” campsite, Green River, Canyonlands National Park

We made up the name for this campsite; it doesn’t have a name that I’m aware of, though it is an established and large campsite on the Green River in Stillwater Canyon, seven miles above the confluence with the Colorado River. We gave it that name because, minutes after we landed, the eight kids in our five-family crew—ranging in age from four to 12—immediately planted their figurative flag on this boulder at the edge of the campsite and christened it “Kid Rock.” We all now remember that site by the name the kids gave that boulder.

Really, there are many special campsites along this lazy stretch of the Green, which passes through a canyon of soaring redrock cliffs and spires. But besides being spacious and scenic, this one sits at the bottom of a trail that climbs about three miles uphill to White Crack, one of the most spectacular campgrounds on the White Rim.

See my story about floating for five days down the Green River through Stillwater Canyon in Canyonlands National Park, with more photos and a video, for information on how to pull off this trip.

Rock Slide Lake in Idaho's southern Sawtooth Mountains.
Rock Slide Lake in the remote interior of Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains.

Rock Slide Lake, Sawtooth Mountains

Having lived in Idaho since 1998, I have explored much of the state’s best-known mountain range, the Sawtooths. But it took me 13 years to finally backpack into the deep interior of the southern Sawtooths, an area speckled with mountain lakes that lies a solid two days’ hike from the nearest roads in any direction.

So when my friend Jeff Wilhelm and I carved out four glorious September days to finally explore this area, we found deep, clear lakes filled with lunker trout, ringed by jagged peaks, and trails that don’t receive many boot prints. Walking through the bright, airy forest there, filled with granite outcroppings, reminded me of the High Sierra—without all the people. We used Rock Slide Lake as a base camp for two nights to give us a day to explore with daypacks, and spent hours on its shore, marveling at the dawn and sunset light there.

See my story about a four-day, 57-mile in the southern Sawtooth Wilderness for more photos and information for planning this trip.

Compromise Camp on the Green River in Whirlpool Canyon, Dinosaur National Monument.

Green River, Dinosaur National Monument

Long shadows leaned over the steadily sliding river as we pulled into our first campsite on a four-day rafting trip on the Green River in Dinosaur National Monument, which straddles the Utah-Colorado border. From the floor of Lodore Canyon, we gazed up at burgundy cliffs soaring a thousand feet overhead. One friend said to me, “This is probably the nicest campsite I’ve ever seen.” But what was truly amazing was that the second night’s campsite was better than our first—and the third night’s site was even more breathtaking than the first two. For that reason—and because many campsites on the banks of the Green in Dinosaur are equally beautiful—I’m simply lumping all of them together for this list.

See my story about that trip, “Why Conservation Matters: Rafting the Green River’s Gates of Lodore.”

Coyote Natural Bridge, Coyote Gulch.
Coyote Natural Bridge, Coyote Gulch.

Coyote Natural Bridge, Coyote Gulch, Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument, UT

My memory of my wife’s and my first backpacking trip in Coyote Gulch 16 years earlier was cloudy when we returned recently with our 12- and 10-year-old kids and another family. Sometimes revisiting a place doesn’t measure up to a fond recollection of it; not so with Coyote Gulch, in southern Utah’s Escalante River canyons. It was more scenic even than I remembered. Soaring, red rock walls tower along its length. A steady creek pours over several short waterfalls, its year-round flow keeping the canyon bottom lushly green. And then there are features like Jacob Hamblin Arch and Coyote Natural Bridge.

My plan had been for us to spend our second night at one of the campsites below Jacob Hamblin; but the team was a little too pooped by the time we reached Coyote Natural Bridge to push on more than an hour farther. It turned out to be serendipitous, because we had the sandy beach area around the bridge to ourselves (whereas the campsites at Hamblin are popular). The kids played for hours in the creek and some adults took an evening hike while the others laid down on the warm sand with a book.

See my story about backpacking Coyote Gulch (and hiking slot canyons in the Escalante and at Bryce Canyon and Capitol Reef national parks), with more photos and a video, for information on how to pull off this trip.

Tiger Key, Ten Thousand Islands, Everglades National Park.
Tiger Key, Everglades.

Tiger Key, Everglades National Park, FL

Songbirds chattered and flitted among the trees along the shore. Cormorants and brown pelicans skimmed the water’s surface. Egrets glided overhead. In one secluded cove in Tiger Key, an outermost island of the Ten Thousand Islands in Florida’s Everglades, we sat in our canoes and watched 10 brilliantly pink roseate spoonbills perched in a tree, watching us. In a small bay, we sat rapt while a dolphin swam wide circles around our canoe for about 20 minutes. Every evening, we stood in the warm beach sand watching the blazing red orb of the sun slowly sink into the Gulf of Mexico.

Another of the trips I took my family on for my book, paddling the Everglades was one of the most magical for all of us—for the scenery, the exotic birds, and the unique experience of having a wilderness beach all to ourselves.

See my story about kayaking the East River and canoeing and wilderness camping in the Ten Thousand Islands of Everglades National Park, with more photos and a video, for information on how to pull off this trip.

White Rock Lakes, Ptarmigan Traverse, Glacier Peak Wilderness.
White Rock Lakes, Ptarmigan Traverse, Glacier Peak Wilderness.

White Rock Lakes, Ptarmigan Traverse, Glacier Peak Wilderness

It was the third day of our six-day trip on arguably America’s premier mountain haute route. A multi-day walk along a high mountain crest, the Ptarmigan Traverse crosses six glaciers and stays high above treeline until the fifth day. We camped by lonely alpine lakes—one of which was still completely frozen and snow-covered in mid-August—below jagged summits in possibly the most vertiginous mountains in the country.

My climbing partners Stefan Kinnestrand and Wes Cooper and I ascended two of those glaciers, the LeConte and the South Cascade, in whiteout conditions on that third day, navigating by GPS while watching very carefully for crevasses. Then we scrambled from another pass down a precarious slope of loose rock so steep that a slip might have concluded with a tumble of several hundred feet right to the bottom. Most of the ground surrounding the White Rock Lakes remained snow-covered that August day, and the lakes were still almost completely frozen. When the fog finally lifted, we got a view across the deep valley of the West Fork of Agnes Creek to the Dana Glacier and Chikamin Glacier pouring off a ridge connecting several rocky peaks and spires. I’ll eventually post a story and more photos from the Ptarmigan Traverse.

Getting There Climbers traditionally begin the Ptarmigan Traverse at Cascade Pass in North Cascades National Park and walk south, largely hewing close to the Cascade Crest. Beyond Dome Peak, from the Cub Lake area in the Glacier Peak Wilderness, the route descends to the Downey Creek Trailhead on Suiattle River Road. The route is mostly off-trail and crosses six glaciers; expert skills at glacier travel and navigating off-trail through mountains are required. See an excellent route description at summitpost.org/ptarmigan-traverse/154644.

Spring Canyon, Capitol Reef National Park.
Spring Canyon, Capitol Reef National Park.

Spring Canyon, Capitol Reef National Park

Southern Utah’s Capitol Reef has scenery to match its siblings in the National Park System—but when it comes to crowds, this place ain’t no Zion or Yosemite. In the visitor center at the outset of a three-day, family backpacking trip, a ranger told me that we were the only party getting a permit to backpack into Spring Canyon that day.

We hiked below towering, burgundy cliffs with patches of white and orange and black water-stain streaks, passing enormous boulders piled up below the cliffs. More than four hours after setting out from the Chimney Rock Trailhead, we pitched the tent on a grassy bench in Spring Canyon, beneath cliffs topped by domes and spires soaring hundreds of feet overhead. Staying there for two nights, with a day of exploring in between, we saw no other people. If that kind of solitude is rare in the backcountry of many national parks, it’s especially unusual in a spot reached with relatively little effort.

See my story about dayhiking, slot canyoneering, and backpacking in Capitol Reef National Park, with more photos and a video, for information on how to pull off this trip.

Lagunas Chevallay, Dientes Circuit, Patagonia.
Lagunas Chevallay, Dientes Circuit, Patagonia.

Lagunas Chevallay, Dientes Circuit, Chilean Patagonia

The 35-mile Dientes Circuit through the Dientes de Navarino (“Teeth of Navarino”) on Isla Navarino (Navarino Island), at the southern tip of South America, is chock full of ends-of-the-Earth moments and beautiful campsites. With my friend Jeff Wilhelm and 22-year-old Puerto Williams-based trekking guide Maurice van de Maele, I hiked for four days through a wild, wind-battered landscape of incisor-like rock towers and alpine lakes that gets visited by just a handful of people every year.

About halfway through the trip, the Antarctic wind blew us through Paso Ventarron (Ventarron Pass) as the late-day light pierced clouds above the Lagunas Chevallay. We descended the rocky trail to camp beside the large, unnamed lake shown at the head of the valley in the photo above.

See my story about trekking the Dientes Circuit, with more photos, for information on how to pull off this trip.

East Fork Owyhee River.
East Fork Owyhee River.

East Fork Owyhee River

Guiding our kayaks between tight canyon walls on Deep Creek, we didn’t see the confluence until we practically fell into it, the swift waters spitting us out into a deeper, wider channel: southwest Idaho’s East Fork Owyhee River. The four of us immediately landed and dragged our boats up onto a spacious beach on river right, tired and wet. I felt chilled in my wetsuit from a day that had seen us spend eight hours or more paddling through rain, snow, hail, and wind.

Perhaps a football field’s distance downriver, the East Fork made a sharp left turn and plunged into unseen quarters between sheer rhyolite walls. As evening descended, those cliffs became a study in contrasting light—some in dark shadow, some edged with sunlight, and the white rock of the farthest one glowing as if lit by some internal power source. Though just one of many scenes of staggering natural beauty from an eight-day, 82-mile adventure on the upper Owyhee River system, from Deep Creek to Three Forks, that one has stuck with me.

See my story about kayaking the upper Owyhee River, with more photos, for information on how to pull off this trip.

Little Frazier Lake in Oregon's Eagle Cap Wilderness.
Little Frazier Lake in Oregon’s Eagle Cap Wilderness.

Little Frazier Lake, Eagle Cap Wilderness

Sometimes the destinations closest to home are the ones you neglect for too long. That was the case for my family with northeastern Oregon’s Eagle Cap Wilderness, just a half-day’s drive for us, but a place we had not yet backpacked in (with the exception of one disastrous attempt, when our son was a toddler, that was aborted due to a nasty stomach virus. But I have skied the backcountry of Norway Basin in the Eagle Cap with friends.) So last summer, we finally took a five-day, 41-mile loop in the southeastern corner of this 350,000-acre wilderness.

We hiked up broad, U-shaped valleys and camped by boisterous streams and lakes that offered mirror reflections of dawn light and alpenglow on rocky, 9,000-foot peaks. I made the side hike up 9,572-foot Eagle Cap for its 360-degree panorama overlooking much of the range; the kids played in streams and had the treat of one of the most spectacular thunderstorms of their lives on our second afternoon. Our third campsite, at Little Frazier Lake, sat near the lake’s outlet creek, where my son worked for hours rearranging rocks; my daughter and I scrambled high up some nearby ledges. And in the morning, the lake offered up a perfect reflection of the stone basin cradling it. I will eventually post a story, with more photos, about this trip.

See my story about this five-day, family backpacking trip in the Eagle Cap, including more photos and a video, for information on planning this trip.

A backpackers' campsite in an unnamed canyon on the Beehive Traverse in Capitol Reef National Park.
Our campsite in an unnamed canyon on the Beehive Traverse in Capitol Reef National Park.

Unnamed Canyon, Beehive Traverse, Capitol Reef National Park

An hour into a three-day, cross-country traverse of the Waterpocket Fold formation in Capitol Reef, my friend David Gordon and I had already taken our first wrong turn, seen a bighorn sheep, and I’d dislodged a boulder that nearly crushed David. (We were off-route.) The incidents were omens for the days to follow, navigating our way through a maze of canyons, cliffs, domes, and towers, where it was not unusual to spend 20 minutes or more hemmed in by seemingly impassable cliffs before finding the narrow ledge or the break in the wall of rock that indicated the direction of our route.

My friend, local guide Steve Howe, spent many seasons working out this cross-country hike, which begins at Grand Wash and zigzags south a very circuitous 17 miles to Capitol Gorge. He calls it the Beehive Traverse, for the type of sandstone towers encountered along the way. He shared a map and GPS data with David and me to let us attempt it ourselves; very few people have hiked the route before us, and most of them were guided by Steve. On our second night, we camped in this unnamed canyon below flying buttresses of golden sandstone.

See my story, with lots of photos and a video, about backpacking the Beehive Traverse in Capitol Reef.

Great Sand Dunes National Park.
Great Sand Dunes National Park.

On the Dunes, Great Sand Dunes National Park

Not long into our first day backpacking across the massive sand dunes of this park—which tower several hundred feet tall—I was already convinced that carrying a pack loaded with food and gear for three days as well as two gallons of water up giant dunes was not a brilliant plan. Our group of editors from Backpacker Magazine marched a few miles over the rolling, sometimes steep dunes until we found a relatively flat spot to pitch our tents. Then the magic show began.

It was November, and the light of late afternoon and early evening transformed the shifting, mountainous dunes into three-dimensional works of abstract art. I wandered a wide perimeter around our camp in the evening and early morning, shooting photos of frost on multi-colored dunes that often came to a peak as sharp as on the roof of a house. At times, sand avalanching downhill under our boots made an eerie sound, a phenomenon known as “singing.” I decided the dunes more than made up for the effort expended getting there.

See my story, with more photos, about backpacking at Colorado’s Great Sand Dunes for information on how to pull off this trip.

A young boy fishing at Lake 8522, Sawtooth Mountains, Idaho.
My son, Nate, fishing at Lake 8522, Sawtooth Mountains, Idaho.

Lake 8522, Sawtooth Wilderness, ID

We backpacked the Alpine Creek Trail in Idaho’s Sawtooths less than three miles up a sunbaked valley flanked by cliffs to where it ends abruptly in ponderosa pine forest. A steep headwall loomed above us, 500 vertical feet or taller, capped by rocky ledges—a daunting obstacle that would logically turn away most hikers. But I had been told that the basin of unnamed lakes just beyond the pass at the top of this earthen wall was worth the effort of reaching it. So my son, Nate, almost 11 at the time, and I, joined by his buddy, another Nate, and that kid’s dad, Doug Shinneman, clawed and high-stepped our way up a faint, very steep user trail, grabbing branches and slipping in mud, and scrambling up exposed ledges.

At the top, we saw that I’d gotten good advice. A cool forest embraces one side of the blue-green waters of Lake 8522; a granite cliff juts straight out of the water on the other side. We found a spot in the woods for our tents and spent the next couple of days fishing, exploring the higher lakes in the basin, and taking in some sunrises and sunsets that kept my camera busy.

Getting There From ID 75, about 20 miles south of Stanley and 40 miles north of Ketchum, turn west onto Alturas Lake Road and follow it about seven miles to its end at the Alpine Creek Trailhead. Hike the Alpine Creek Trail roughly 2.5 miles to where the maintained trail terminates. Follow a faint, very steep and rough user trail that climbs almost straight uphill several hundred feet, with some scrambling, to a pass that leads into a lakes basin. Lake 8522 is a short walk beyond the pass. This area has some user trails and established campsites, but is not managed like official trails; minimize your impact.

Map Earthwalk Press “Sawtooth Wilderness,” $9.95, (800) 742-2677, omnimap.com.

Contact Sawtooth National Forest Stanley Ranger District, (208) 774-3000, fs.usda.gov/sawtooth.

Hall Arm, Doubtful Sound, Fiordlands National Park, New Zealand.
Hall Arm, Doubtful Sound, Fiordlands National Park, New Zealand.

Doubtful Sound, Fiordland National Park, New Zealand

It was a typical summer day in Doubtful Sound: alternating spells of light mist and steady rain punctuating brief periods without precipitation. The shifting gray overcast delivered about 10 minutes of sunshine the entire day. But the air was warm and the water flat, its dark surface as clear as a just-cleaned mirror. Tendrils of ghost-like clouds floated around granite cliffs that rose straight out of the sea up to 4,000 feet high; and the cliffs wore long coats of thick rainforest that seemed to defy gravity.

Our small group pitched our tents behind a rocky beach, in the forest of podocarp trees and punga tree ferns. After a mild night of periodic showers, we woke and walked to the beach to see the water still and glassy, reflecting the sea cliffs and misty clouds.

See my story about sea kayaking Doubtful Sound, with more photos and a video, for information on how to pull off this trip.

Tonto Trail, Grand Canyon.
Tonto Trail, Grand Canyon.

Tonto Trail, Grand Canyon National Park

If there’s a bad campsite in the Grand Canyon, I haven’t found it yet. But my favorite (so far) is this spot just off the Tonto Trail, on the plateau between Lonetree Canyon and Cremation Creek. We camped here on the last night of a four-day, late-March family backpacking trip from Grandview Point to the South Kaibab Trailhead (another trip my family took for a chapter of my book).

While we were exposed to the wind—which can blow pretty hard—and had to carry water to that camp, those were small tithes for a 360-degree panorama reaching from the South Rim to the North Rim, with countless named temples and buttes within view, most prominently the Zoroaster Temple (visible in the background of the photo above). While the kids played with rocks in the dirt and my wife read, I walked around with my camera, finding an amazing background in every direction.

See my story, with more photos, about backpacking in the Grand Canyon for information on how to pull off this trip.

Indian Basin, Wind River Range.
Indian Basin, Wind River Range.

Indian Basin, Wind River Range

Six friends, 500 pounds of gear and food for a week, one horsepacker to haul our stuff the 15 miles from the trailhead to Indian Basin—and plenty of alcohol, which figures prominently in this adventure tale. We had grand ambitions for several rock and snow climbs of peaks along the Continental Divide that week. We didn’t plan on daily, cold morning showers or the violent afternoon thunderstorms that would dump a couple inches of hail in 30 minutes and threaten to blow our tents to Iowa.

Though we never tied into a rope all week, we did tag a few walk-and-scramble-up summits, including 13,745-foot Fremont Peak in cold wind and fog, and 13,517-foot Jackson Peak. Mostly, though, we huddled in all of our clothes under a tarp in camp, plowing through our alcohol supply and laughing uproariously over things I barely recall. I got the above shot during one of the rare moments of glorious sunshine that made us optimistic about climbing—until the next storm cell drove us back into our tents.

Getting There The Elkhart Park trailhead is 14.5 miles from Pinedale. From US 191 (Pine Street), in Pinedale, turn north onto Fremont Lake/Half Moon Lake Road. In three miles, bear right on Skyline Drive. A short distance beyond a viewpoint overlooking the high peaks, bear right at a fork to parking for the Pole Creek Trail. Follow the Pole Creek, Seneca Lake, Highline (for just a quarter-mile), and Indian Basin trails about 15 miles to Indian Basin.

Map Earthwalk Press “North Wind River Range,” $9.95, omnimap.com.

Contact Bridger National Forest Pinedale Ranger District, (307) 739-5500, fs.usda.gov/btnf.

Dog Lake, Seven Devils Mountains.
Dog Lake, Seven Devils Mountains.

Dog Lake, Seven Devils Mountains

A fresh September snowfall had just blanketed the Seven Devils, which rise to over 9,000 feet and form the east rim of Hells Canyon in west-central Idaho. My friend Geoff Sears and I started our three-day hike in thick fog, at first catching only glimpses of the craggy peaks.

But the weather slowly cleared through the afternoon, as we leapfrogged surviving segments of a long-abandoned, faint trail leading to Dog Lake, where we put our tent up in a small basin that rarely sees human visitors. That evening and the next morning, under blue skies with no wind, the lake offered up a sharp reflection of the snow-plastered cliffs of black rock.

See my story about another backpacking trip in Hells Canyon.

Getting There From US 95, a mile south of Riggins, Idaho, turn west onto Squaw Creek Road (CR 517). Drive 16.5 miles to Windy Saddle Trailhead, a half-mile before Seven Devils Campground. Hike south on Boise Trail 101 for 7.4 miles. Just after crossing Dog Creek, turn west and look for traces of the faint trail leading about 1.3 miles to Dog Lake; you’ll be mostly bushwhacking through semi-open forest with some blowdowns obstructing the way.

Map The Hells Canyon National Recreation Area map, Hells Canyon NRA website (below).

Contact Hells Canyon National Recreation Area, Riggins ranger district, (208) 628-3916, fs.usda.gov/detail/wallowa-whitman/recreation/?cid=stelprdb5238987.

Above our campsite on Mount Baker.
Above our campsite on Mount Baker.

Mount Baker, WA

It was a wretched campsite, actually. We’d had no intention of staying there, but weather left us without a better choice than to endure an interminable night on that cold ground of sharp stones. The wind-tortured, 9,000-foot saddle separating the Coleman and Deming glaciers on Mount Baker in Washington’s North Cascades was simply where we ended up when Plan A—camping on the summit—crashed in the sea of ambitious dreams. My wife, Penny, and I were climbing our first Pacific Northwest volcano years ago with our friend Larry Gies, through thick fog that reduced visibility to less than 100 feet at times. By late afternoon, we gave up on reaching the summit, pinned our tents to the ground, and dove inside.

But two hours later, a mountain fairy granted us one of those rare, magical events that occur when least expected: Sunshine lit our tents. We stepped outside to see the cloud ceiling below us. We tagged the mountaintop as the setting sun strafed that sea of clouds with red and orange light. You can’t distinguish our tents in the photo above, but they’re in the saddle below us—that miserable, serendipitous spot.

Getting There From I-5 north of Bellingham, follow WA 542 for 33.8 miles. One mile past Glacier, turn right onto Glacier Creek FS Road 39, and continue eight miles to parking for Mt. Baker (Heliotrope Ridge) Trail 677. The trail ends after two miles, at 4,800 feet; continue on the climbers’ trail up the Hogsback to a tenting area at 6,000 feet on the edge of the Coleman Glacier.

Map Green Trails Mt. Baker no. 13, greentrailsmaps.com.

Contact Mt. Baker-Snoqualmie National Forest outdoor recreation information, fs.usda.gov/mbs.

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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.

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

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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17 Photos From 2024 That Will Inspire Your Next Adventure https://thebigoutsideblog.com/17-photos-from-2024-that-will-inspire-your-next-adventure/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/17-photos-from-2024-that-will-inspire-your-next-adventure/#respond Mon, 16 Dec 2024 20:15:01 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=65275 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

How was your 2024? I hope you got outdoors as much as possible with the people you care about—and you enjoyed adventures that inspired you. I’m sharing in this story photos from several backpacking and hiking trips I took this year, from the Grand Canyon in April and southern Utah in May to the Tetons and Montana’s Beartooths in August, Colorado’s San Juans in September, northern Utah’s High Uintas Wilderness in early October—and culminating with three classic Great Walks and dayhiking in New Zealand in late November and December.

That’s a pretty good year, right?

I’m fortunate to be able to get out a lot, and yet, 2024 still felt like an exceptional year for me. Going through my photos always reminds me not just about the details of these experiences and places—but most of all, what’s most important in my life and why I strive to make getting outdoors a top priority. I know you do, too—that’s why you read my blog.


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


A backpacker hiking to Lake Sylvan in the Beartooth Mountains, Montana.
David Gordon backpacking to Lake Sylvan in the Beartooth Mountains, Montana.

The photos in this story are selected images from those trips. Whether you want to learn more to take any of them yourself or just want to find some inspiration for your own adventures, I think you’ll enjoy this little escape.

Scroll through the photos and short anecdotes from each trip below. Some include links to stories about those places that I’ve already posted—many of which require a paid subscription to The Big Outside to read in full, including my tips and information on how to plan and take those trips. Click any photo to learn more about that trip.

Watch for my upcoming stories about the other places described below.

A hiker trekking New Zealand's Routeburn Track.
My wife, Penny, trekking New Zealand’s Routeburn Track.

I can help you plan any of these trips or any others you read about at The Big Outside—giving you the benefit of my three decades of professional experience identifying, planning, and successfully pulling off great adventures. See my Custom Trip Planning page to learn how I can help you, and my expert e-books to some of America’s best backpacking trips.

I’d love to hear what you think of any of my photos or the places shown in them, or upcoming plans you have. Please share your thoughts in the comments section at the bottom of this story. I try to respond to all comments.

Enjoy my pictures and start now planning your adventures for 2025.

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A backpacker hiking the Tonto Trail above Serpentine Canyon, along the Gems Route in the Grand Canyon.
Todd Arndt backpacking the Tonto Trail above Serpentine Canyon, along the Gems Route in the Grand Canyon.

The Grand Canyon’s Gems Route

In April, five friends joined me returning to a place I cannot seem to get enough of—the Grand Canyon—to spend six days backpacking about 60 miles following one of the most remote, lonely, and hard multi-day hikes in the canyon: the Gems Route from the South Bass Trailhead to the Hermit Trailhead. I know, I know: “remote, lonely, and hard” describes almost every multi-day hike in the canyon. But consider these salient facts about the Gems Route.

Besides starting and finishing on steep and difficult trails off the South Rim, it traverses the longest segment of the 95-mile-long Tonto Trail with no bailout path the South Rim: the 29 miles from Bass Canyon to Boucher Creek, which the park’s website describes as the Tonto’s “most difficult and potentially dangerous” leg for the lack of perennial water. In April, probably the best month of the year to find water in seasonal creeks (as we did), we each nonetheless had to twice carry up to about 17 pounds of water on our backs.

A backpacker hiking the Tonto Trail toward Topaz Canyon, along the Gems Route in the Grand Canyon.
Mark Fenton backpacking the Tonto Trail toward Topaz Canyon, along the Gems Route in the Grand Canyon.

The Gems Route draws its name from several tributary canyons you cross on the Tonto Trail—including five that we crossed, Ruby, Turquoise, Sapphire, Agate, and Topaz—each one strikingly deep, with towering, brilliantly colorful cliffs. As always on the Tonto, views extend from the Colorado River to both rims and the canyon’s landscape seems to constantly change as the sun marches across the sky. And even by Grand Canyon standards, few hikes offer this much solitude: For three days, we saw no one else.

See my story “‘Let’s Talk Water:’ Backpacking the Grand Canyon’s Gems” and all stories about backpacking in the Grand Canyon at The Big Outside.

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

Owl and Fish Canyons

A May trip to southern Utah began with four of us backpacking the three-day, approximately 17-mile loop through Owl and Fish canyons, in southeastern Utah’s Bears Ears National Monument, which begins and ends with rugged hiking and scrambling at the upper ends of both canyons—including a 12-foot corner in a cliff to reach the rim of Fish Canyon (aided by a fixed rope).

While not for anyone uncomfortable with moderate exposure, these canyons evoke better-known places in southern Utah, with tall, red cliffs, towers, the striking amphitheater surrounding Nevills Arch, rippled slickrock, pour-offs and seasonal waterfalls, flowering cacti, cottonwoods, and a surprising abundance of seasonal, clear water in parts of both canyons.

A backpacker hiking in upper Fish Canyon, Bears Ears National Monument, Utah.
My wife, Penny, backpacking in upper Fish Canyon, Bears Ears National Monument, Utah.

Owl and Fish canyons offer a rare find: incredible scenery (and night skies), awesome campsites, solitude, and a permit that’s easier to get than for better-known Southwest backpacking trips.

See my story “Backpacking Southern Utah’s Owl and Fish Canyons,” “The 12 Best Backpacking Trips in the Southwest,” and all stories about hiking and backpacking in southern Utah at The Big Outside.


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to get professional-quality prints of this blog’s most inspiring images!


A hiker on the Navajo Knobs Trail in Capitol Reef National Park, in southern Utah.
My wife, Penny, hiking the Navajo Knobs Trail in Capitol Reef National Park, in southern Utah.

Capitol Reef, Bryce Canyon, and Zion National Parks

A view along the West Rim Trail above Zion Canyon in Zion National Park.
A view along the West Rim Trail in Zion National Park.

My wife, Penny, and I also hit a trifecta of parks on our southern trip in May: dayhiking in Capitol Reef, Bryce Canyon, and Zion.

We began in  Capitol Reef, which for many hikers does not come to mind first when contemplating a visit to the Southwest—even though it really has some of the step-for-step nicest dayhikes in the region, including one of the very best, which we hiked: the Navajo Knobs Trail.

In Bryce Canyon at a peak time of year to explore the Southwest, hiking the eight-mile Fairyland Loop reminded me that, even on days when hundreds of tourists are jamming the walkways and overlooks that lie a short stroll from the park’s sprawling parking lots, you can escape the crowds within a mile of hiking virtually any trail, finding quietude and what feels like a deeper connection with Bryce’s hoodoos and amphitheaters.

Lastly, in Zion, we pedaled rented bikes to the end of the road in Zion Canyon—a peaceful, relatively easy, and super scenic little adventure thanks to that road being closed to most private vehicles for most of the year—and I hiked up the West Rim Trail well beyond the junction with the spur trail up Angels Landing, revisiting another beautiful stretch of trail that sees just a smattering of hikers.

See my stories “The Best Hikes in Capitol Reef National Park,” “The Two Best Hikes in Bryce Canyon National Park,” “The 10 Best Hikes in Zion National Park,” “The 15 Best Hikes in Utah’s National Parks,” and all stories about hiking and backpacking in southern Utah at The Big Outside.

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including my expert tips on planning these trips, plus get a FREE e-book. Join now!

A hiker descending the North Fork Cascade Canyon in Grand Teton National Park.
My son, Nate, hiking down the North Fork Cascade Canyon in Grand Teton National Park.

The Tetons

Over three days on the first weekend of August, my son, Nate, and I knocked off a few stellar adventures together in the Teton Range (another place I cannot get enough of). First, we took advantage of a rare, uniquely perfect weather forecast to climb the 13,775-foot Grand Teton in a day via the Owen-Spalding Route—some 17 miles, 7,200 vertical feet, thousands of feet of scrambling and a couple of easy pitches of rock climbing in about 16.5 hours, car to car (with me slowing my 23-year-old son down, not vice versa).

Michael Lanza of The Big Outside and his son, Nate, on the summit of the Grand Teton.
My son, Nate, and me on the summit of the Grand Teton.

The next afternoon we took an active rest day of sorts, mountain biking some great trails in the Teton Pass area off WY 22.

And on our third day together, we took one of the best long dayhikes in the Tetons, from the boat landing on the west side of Jenny Lake in the park (taking the very scenic boat shuttle across Jenny) up the North Fork Cascade Canyon to Lake Solitude, just over 15 miles and 2,300 feet out-and-back. Near the end of that hike, coming back down Cascade Canyon, not more than about 30 minutes from Jenny Lake, we were surprised coming around a blind turn in the trail to see a huge bull moose standing just steps off the path; we hustled quickly past him.

See “10 Great, Big Dayhikes in the Tetons,” my expert e-books to backpacking the Teton Crest Trail and the best short backpacking trip in the Tetons, and all stories about backpacking in Grand Teton National Park at The Big Outside.

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

Backpackers hiking the West Fork Trail above the West Fork Rock Creek toward Sundance Pass in the Beartooth Mountains, Montana.
Mark Fenton and David Gordon backpacking the West Fork Trail toward Sundance Pass in Montana’s Beartooth Mountains.

The Beartooth Mountains

In the middle of August, two friends and I backpacked about 44 miles, with a bit of off-trail hiking, over five days in Montana’s Beartooth Mountains, which conjure mental images of Glacier National Park— although the Beartooths are in many ways more challenging, primarily for having more strenuous trails and higher elevations. But the great advantage of the Beartooths over Glacier is this: no permit reservation required.

That trip featured some gorgeous lakes (at least one likely to eventually grace my story spotlighting the most gorgeous backcountry lakes I’ve seen; see the photo of Lake Sylvan near the top of this story) and waterfalls and sweeping views of classic Northern Rockies landscapes, with deep, glacier-carved, U-shaped creek valleys below soaring cliffs and craggy peaks. But the big climb from the West Fork Rock Creek Valley to Sundance Pass at around 11,000 feet kind of blew us away: We walked through many switchbacks, every step of the way overlooking the arc of mountains, some with remnant glaciers, at the head of that valley.

Watch for my upcoming feature story about that trip at The Big Outside.

The right gear makes any trip go better.
See “The 10 Best Backpacking Packs” and “The 10 Best Backpacking Tents.”

A backpacker hiking the Continental Divide Trail north toward Squaw Pass in the Weminuche Wilderness, San Juan Mountains, Colorado.
My wife, Penny, backpacking the Continental Divide Trail north toward Squaw Pass in the Weminuche Wilderness, San Juan Mountains, Colorado.

The Continental Divide Trail in Colorado’s San Juan Mountains

I’ve long considered September—especially the first half of the month—arguably the best time of year for backpacking in the mountains of the U.S. West. This year, my wife, Penny, and I headed to the tall and majestic San Juan Mountains of southwestern Colorado to backpack a four-day, 31-mile loop in the Weminuche Wilderness.

We spent two of those days mostly at around 12,000 feet on a stretch of the Continental Divide Trail, hiking along endless ridge crests in the midst of a turbulent sea of hulking mountains that stretched to every horizon. We heard elk bugling; got battered by very strong, chilly winds and a sudden, late-afternoon thunderstorm that prompted a quick decision to pitch our tent a bit earlier than planned, but in a lovely meadow a short walk from a pretty little alpine lake; and saw just a handful of other backpackers on that piece of the CDT (all of them solo, southbound CDT thru-hikers). That short trip fanned the flames of my desire to put together a longer hike on some or all of the CDT in Colorado or the Colorado Trail.

Watch for my upcoming story about that San Juans loop hike at The Big Outside.

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

 

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

The Uinta Highline Trail

With an unusually good weather forecast for early October, my son, Nate, and I set out to backpack a respectable chunk of the Uinta Highline Trail in Utah’s High Uintas Wilderness (also shown in lead photo at the top of this story), about 60 miles in four days, from the Henrys Fork Trailhead—the shortest approach to Utah’s high point, 13,528-foot Kings Peak—to the trail’s western terminus at Hayden Pass on the Mirror Lake Highway/UT 150. Excited by the forecast and the prospect of yet another father-son adventure together—a countless number of which he, now 24, and I have shared since he was too young to remember our earliest, much more modest trips—we wound up, in almost equal parts, as awed by its majesty as humbled by how tough it is.

I’d backpacked in the High Uintas and hiked up Kings before, with my wife and daughter (on this trip), but Nate had recently decided that, after living in Utah for five years (since college), he needed to finally account for the glaring omission of the state’s high point in his outdoor resume. He had also become more interested in the Uinta Highline Trail, which traverses the range for more than 100 miles, much of it between 10,000 and over 12,000 feet, including numerous high passes. On our four-day hike, we crossed seven passes ranging from just over 11,200 feet to the trail’s high point, Anderson Pass at around 12,700 feet. And we did tag Kings Peak on a bluebird morning.

A backpacker hiking the Uinta Highline Trail west toward Dead Horse Pass in Utah's High Uintas Wilderness.
My son, Nate, backpacking the Uinta Highline Trail west toward Dead Horse Pass in Utah’s High Uintas Wilderness.

It being October at lofty elevations, we certainly experienced a multi-course meal of mountain weather, including some strong, cold wind, mornings below freezing—we slept under the stars, looking up at a clear night sky riddled with pinpoints of light floating in and around the glowing streak of our galaxy, and woke each morning with our bags quite wet on the outside from the heavy frost melting on them. (Gear tip: I stayed warm and dry in this bag, and our bags dried out quickly as soon as the morning sun hit them.)

But every day presented vast creek basins and one or two more high passes to cross; the vistas seemed endless. And it being October, each of our very rare encounters with other backpackers surprised us as much as them.

The Uinta Highline Trail is unquestionably one of the most under-appreciated multi-day hikes in the country. I will tell you with a straight face that it deserves comparisons with the John Muir Trail, Teton Crest Trail, Wonderland Trail, and the best backpacking trips in Glacier National Park, Yosemite, the Wind River Range, and Idaho’s Sawtooths. And you will often find more solitude in the Uintas than in some of those other places.

Yes, really. But you underestimate its difficulty at your own peril.

See my feature story about that trip, “Backpacking—and Sandbagging—Utah’s Uinta Highline Trail,” and my story about a previous trip there, “Tall and Lonely: Backpacking Utah’s High Uintas Wilderness,” and all stories about backpacking in Utah at The Big Outside.

Want my help planning any trip on this list?
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Blue Lake, along New Zealand's Tongariro Alpine Crossing.
Blue Lake, along New Zealand’s Tongariro Alpine Crossing.

Three Great Walks in New Zealand

I spent more than three weeks from late November to mid-December hiking around New Zealand with my family, including knocking off three of that country’s 11 amazing Great Walks: the Tongariro Alpine Crossing, the Routeburn Track, and the Milford Track.

First stop: the North Island, for some world-class mountain biking in Rotorua, followed by a dayhike of the Tongariro Alpine Crossing. It’s 12 miles from the Mangatepōpō Road end to the Ketetahi Road end, with more than 2,100 feet of uphill and a longer descent of more than 3,600 feet (in that direction). Those simple metrics don’t fully communicate the difficulty, from the steepness for sustained stretches on the ascent to the trail’s high point, at the rim of Red Crater, and the descent past Red Crater; or the impact that the strong wind and horizontal rain can have (and we had in spades). But the Tongariro deserves to be ranked among the world’s great treks for its almost constant views of active, rugged volcanoes, its moonscape of broad craters, and lakes that seem to glow with color.

Trekkers hiking New Zealand's Milford Track.
My wife, Penny, and our friend Cat Serio trekking New Zealand’s Milford Track.

Hopping down to the South Island, we tackled a pair of classic hut treks: three days on the nearly 21-mile Routeburn Track (see photo near the top of this story) in Mount Aspiring National Park and Fiordland National Park, which connects trailheads in the bush via a long, alpine traverse over tussock highlands, past stunning waterfalls and rivers, and over its high point at Harris Saddle. Then we spent four days on the 33-mile Milford Track in Fiordland, widely hailed as one of the world’s great treks, where days of rain had created countless braids of roaring waterfalls in the valleys.

Not surprisingly for any of these trails, we encountered rain and windin full force at timeson each of them. But we also experienced everything that makes “tramping” around New Zealand special: the always fascinating forests (or the “bush,” as Kiwis call it); rivers varying in character from calm to raging; alpine traverses where mountains stretch to far horizons; and easily well over a hundred waterfalls tumbling in endless braids down tall, steep mountainsides.

Watch for my upcoming stories from our New Zealand trip. Meanwhile, see my story about my first hike in Tongariro National Park and all stories about adventures in New Zealand at The Big Outside; and find more information about the Great Walks at doc.govt.nz/parks-and-recreation/things-to-do/walking-and-tramping/great-walks.

As you plan your trips for next year, see “America’s Top 10 Best Backpacking Trips,” “The 25 Best National Park Dayhikes,” my 25 all-time favorite backcountry campsites, and my Trips page at The Big Outside.

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Backpacking Utah’s Mind-Blowing Death Hollow Loop https://thebigoutsideblog.com/backpacking-utahs-mind-blowing-death-hollow-loop/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/backpacking-utahs-mind-blowing-death-hollow-loop/#respond Fri, 22 Mar 2024 22:36:27 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=62487 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Like many desert Southwest hikes, southern Utah’s Boulder Mail Trail begins from its western trailhead with a lot of laboriously slow walking in soft sand—miles of it, up, down, over, across. When not walking in beach sand, or for brief, merciful spurts, firm sand, we’re hiking over slickrock, that most grippy of ground surfaces where we can move much more quickly—except where the slickrock tilts at severe angles, as it does much of the time. Then it begins an adventurous exercise in strenuous, calf-pumping ascents or cautious descents with backpacks, constantly zigzagging to avoid the impassable spots steep enough that a slip could result in a long slide and tumble for a possibly hurtful distance.

The potential for drama aside, the trail is reasonably well-marked with cairns across the slickrock and pocked with boot prints in the sand from recent backpackers. And with every bend in the trail and new prospect overlooking this bizarrely convoluted, twisted-like-a-pretzel-and-just-as-dry terrain in the Box-Death Hollow Wilderness of the Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument, I have three visceral reactions.

A backpacker descending Death Hollow in southern Utah's Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument.
Todd Arndt backpacking down Death Hollow in southern Utah’s Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument.

First, I can’t help but wonder how daunting all of this must have looked to the first people to explore and map routes across it—and this part of southern Utah anchored by the Escalante River and Henry Mountains was the last area of the continental United States to get mapped, no doubt for the very reasons of the harsh contours, climate, and remoteness.

Second, while I have backpacked all over the Southwest, including many of this region’s best multi-day hikes, this trail and landscape repeatedly cause me to pause, look around, and catch my breath—not only for the steepness, but for the stark beauty, the myriad folds in this turbulent landscape of rock and sand, the sweeping vistas and the kid-in-a-playground quality of wandering circuitously across this navigationally almost unreadable terrain. While reminiscent of other parts of the Southwest, it’s still uniquely breathtaking.

And lastly: I know that each of our three days out here will present entirely different terrain and scenery, a sort of three-in-one wilderness adventure.


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 descending the Boulder Mail Trail into Death Hollow in southern Utah's Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument.
Todd Arndt and David Gordon descending the Boulder Mail Trail into Death Hollow in southern Utah’s Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument. Click photo to learn how I can help you plan this trip.

My friends Todd Arndt, David Gordon, and I are backpacking the 22-mile/35.4-kilometer Boulder Mail Trail-Death Hollow-Escalante River Loop, also known more simply as the Death Hollow Loop. Over three days, we’ll hike a bit more than half of the BMT, descend the sometimes narrow, dramatic canyon of Death Hollow, frequently walking in the creek, and then ascend the upper canyon of the Escalante River.

Coming here in the first week of October, we’re greeted with daytime temperatures in the 60s Fahrenheit and sunshine that still feels desert-hot pouring from a bluebird sky. That and the scenery unfolding before us on our first day feel like good omens.

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The Boulder Mail Trail

When established in 1902, the Boulder Mail Trail was exactly that: a route that mail carriers traveled by packhorse from the town of Escalante to isolated Boulder Town. By 1910, a telegraph line was strung across this high, slickrock plateau and the few creeks that slash canyons through it, providing Boulder with communication to the outside world (through the technology of the times, a switchboard in Escalante). When UT 12 was completed in 1940, creating one of the most scenic highways in the country, the Boulder Mail Trail probably met the fate of so many outdated technologies: It was soon forgotten. But not abandoned forever.

In recent decades, the 15-mile trail has evolved a new identity as a distinctively spectacular and rugged overnight backpacking trip or long, challenging dayhike—and I suspect it probably attracts just as much depth of appreciation as it did in its first role, although now from a much larger population of beneficiaries.

Along much of the Boulder Mail Trail from Escalante to Death Hollow, we follow the old telegraph line that still hangs from short metal poles and the occasional small tree. Reaching some of today’s easiest terrain at Antone Flats—which are “flat” only relative to much of the BMT—we stroll over gently rolling but unmoving waves of Navajo Sandstone with ripples like the wind-washed sand dunes that constituted its geological childhood.

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Backpackers in Antone Flat on the Boulder Mail Trail in southern Utah's Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument.
David Gordon and Todd Arndt in Antone Flat on the Boulder Mail Trail in southern Utah’s Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument.

Distinctive for its cross-bedded lines, or cross-stratification, where prehistoric layers deposited at random, crisscrossing angles, Navajo Sandstone arguably represents the most striking and captivating ground surface on Earth. It looks like the most immense, complex, and beautiful pottery you’ve ever seen.

By some estimates, this type of sandstone spans more than 150,000 square miles (400,000 square kilometers) of the western United States, spread across the Colorado Plateau in Utah, Nevada, Arizona, and Colorado. Known to geologists as one of the most extensive and most exposed aeolian, or wind-blown, systems in the geologic record, Navajo Sandstone originated in an enormous sand sea deposited in the Early Jurassic, approximately 190 million years ago, as a result of regional tectonics when the Colorado Plateau region was part of a large sedimentary basin located in a very arid climate just north of the equator. (If you want a fascinating, four-paragraph lesson in Navajo sandstone geology, read this.)

Due to our travel schedule, we started our hike after lunch, expecting to finish our 8.5-mile first day with a moderate amount of vertical relief in four hours or less. But by the time we reached Antone Flats, it became clear that the sand and steep slickrock, with a bit of scrambling thrown in to spice it up, would result in our time estimate falling short by two hours (for three guys, it’s worth noting, with decades of backpacking experience and many 20- and 30-mile days under our hipbelts).

But it’s hard to imagine many closing scenes to the first act of a backcountry adventure finer than the moment we reach the rim of Death Hollow.

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A backpacker above Death Hollow on the Boulder Mail Trail in southern Utah's Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument.
Todd Arndt above Death Hollow on the Boulder Mail Trail in southern Utah’s Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument.

The sun has already retreated to the cliff tops high above us, leaving our overlook and the deep chasm of Death Hollow in shadow. Sheer cliffs slashed by myriad vertical cracks, steep ramps of intricately featured Navajo Sandstone, and rib-like buttresses of rock separated by deep gullies comprise the walls of this wriggling canyon, which looks impenetrable from our prospect. In its bottom, the perennial creek has created a lush, green oasis in the desert.

In the slowly dimming dusk light, we follow the BMT’s zigzagging route along narrow ledges and down steep slickrock ramps carpeted in loose pebbles and sand to the floor of this Escalante River tributary canyon. Finding a couple in a tent at the one spacious and flat, sandy camp at the bottom of the trail, we try exploring downstream for a quarter-mile, wading in the swift current but finding no remotely feasible camps. With dark fast approaching, we backtrack to that camp and apologetically explain to the couple, Jason and Hannah, that we have no choice but to join them. They graciously insist it’s no problem and we pitch our tents at the other end of the sandy shelf.

Todd busts out three cans of beer that he’s carried in to surprise us with—the hero for the day. Later, the night sky emerges so dark and ablaze with stars that one might be tempted to wonder whether it’s a secret code that holds the answers to all the great questions of the universe and our place in it.

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Death Hollow

A mild night that dipped perhaps barely below 50 degrees Fahrenheit dawns to a calm morning so quiet you might hear a sigh of deep contentment from a half-mile away. We’re in no great hurry to start hiking: We want to let the sun rise a bit higher to start warming the bottom of Death Hollow, where we don’t expect to receive much direct sunlight all day, owing to its tall walls and narrow topography, and where the cold creek creates natural refrigeration. So we linger in camp over tea and coffee and don’t roll out until just after 10 a.m.

A backpacker descending Death Hollow in southern Utah's Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument.
Todd Arndt backpacking down Death Hollow in southern Utah’s Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument.

Just below the campsite, we cautiously step into the creek where it punches through a constriction in the canyon, the current gaining a bit of depth and speed. The water instantly feels shockingly cold with my first, thigh-deep plunge into it in the canyon’s deep morning shade, my feet and lower legs immediately stinging with numbness. But less than an hour after starting out, while this canyon still remains mostly in shade, we’ve all warmed up enough to start peeling off extra layers. My feet, in neoprene socks inside my shoes, start to slowly warm up again.

The close walls of this stretch of Death Hollow conjure mental images—waking nightmares, really—of finding oneself in here when a flash flood rips down this narrow and vertiginous canyon. Debris from past flashes litter the creek banks. This is not a hike for any days with even a trace of a chance of rain in the forecast.

We work our way downstream in the often-shallow stream, seeking out the path of least risk amid small cascades, cliffs rising out of the water, and deep, calm pools, boulders and rocks buffed slick by the current, and assorted other obstacles and hazards. At one point, we file gingerly along a long and very narrow ledge submerged a few inches below the surface of the creek on the right bank, taking care to avoid slipping and falling into the pool below the ledge, which spans 10 feet or more and appears to be several feet deep.

The first clusters of poison ivy we encounter stand so tall and abundant that it takes a few seconds to realize we’re looking at poison ivy. The plants grow in dense thickets along the creek banks, many of them taller than us. David, a longtime trails manager and experienced backpacker and backcountry traveler, says, “I’ve never seen poison ivy so big.”

Death Hollow alternately pinches down to a narrows with overhanging walls and flat, creekside ledges with deep alcoves carved out by the current, and broadens to suddenly bathe us in warm sunshine and reveal tall, sheer walls and slickrock ramps and domes.

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A backpacker descending Death Hollow in southern Utah's Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument.
Todd Arndt backpacking down Death Hollow in southern Utah’s Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument.

At one magical spot in the canyon, we stop just to admire a short but lovely, broad curtain of water pouring over a ledge in the creek right at the base of the cracked face of steep-walled dome that rises to a spear point high above us. The greenery of trees contract with soaring, red, gray, and tan walls on all sides. Below that tiny falls, another watery curtain plunges over another ledge, spanning the creek wall to wall.

By late afternoon, six hours after leaving last night’s camp—a pace of barely over a mile per hour in Death Hollow, although we’d also taken a deliberately leisurely pace to enjoy it—we reach its mouth and confluence with the Escalante River, a rare occurrence where a river tributary adds a much greater volume of water than exists in the river. A couple of parties of backpackers have already found camps here, but there’s far more space on the sandy shelves above the river, in the sparse shade of cottonwood trees, for us to set up our tents without anyone else within sight.

We find a natural stone pool in the Escalante’s current, shaped like a shallow bathtub and deep enough to lie down and fully immerse ourselves in the bracing water for a nice, but brief, cooling bath.

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Rafting the Green River’s Desolation and Gray Canyons https://thebigoutsideblog.com/rafting-the-green-rivers-desolation-and-gray-canyons/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/rafting-the-green-rivers-desolation-and-gray-canyons/#respond Mon, 21 Feb 2022 00:30:27 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=50985 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Our two prop planes climb to 2,000 feet above the Green River, flying north from the tiny airport in the one-horse town in southeast Utah that shares the river’s name. The brown current far below wiggles between castle-like walls in a canyon carved deeply into the Tavaputs Plateau, a twisting labyrinth of towers and sharp edges that looks not much more decipherable from up here than it does trying to navigate it down there. The early-morning sun slashes across the tops of the tallest formations—which are about level with us—but has not yet reached the shaded canyon bottom.

Most conspicuous, though, is what’s unseen: any significant footprint of civilization beyond an occasional rough, rambling line of hardened earth and rocks that constitutes what passes for a road out here. We are heading into one of the most inaccessible patches of the U.S. West and one of the largest roadless areas in the Lower 48, to float through that yawning canyon.

A rafting and kayaking party floating the Green River through Desolation Canyon.
Our rafting and kayaking party floating the Green River through Desolation Canyon.

Thirty minutes or more after taking off, the pilot banks our plane left and all seven of us passengers—including my 23-year-old nephew, Marco Garofalo, getting full value from the co-pilot’s seat on his first bush flight—gaze out the windows to see what manner of runway awaits us in this desolate expanse of uninhabited desert.

Ahead of us appears a narrow strip of earth in a lighter shade of brown than the surrounding landscape—in the desert, the eye quickly recalibrates its sensitivity to the full and rich spectrum of brown. Minutes later we touch down and bump along a rocky airstrip that seems better suited to mountain bikes than aircraft, rolling up beside the other plane carrying the rest of our party, which landed just ahead of us.


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A couple in an inflatable kayak on the Green River through Desolation Canyon.
Erin Gleason and Bill Mistretta kayaking the Green River through Desolation Canyon.

Any trip that begins with a bush flight into a remote backcountry airstrip is off to a great start. And this one is about to get a whole lot better.

After hiking 45 minutes to the river, 16 of us, family and friends, climb into rafts and kayaks and push off into the swirling, milk-chocolate water, embarking on a six-day descent of Desolation and Gray canyons on the Green River, led by guides from Holiday River Expeditions, based in the town of Green River. Nicknamed Deso-Gray by river people, this 84-mile stretch of the Green is known for more than 60 rapids up to class III, most of them easy, fun wave trains; big camps on sandy beaches, some shaded by tall cottonwoods; and the stark beauty of these vast canyons, which will remind us at times of other sections of the Green my family has floated, Lodore Canyon (also with Holiday River Expeditions) and Stillwater Canyon, but also reveal their own unique character and mysteries.

The searing June heat feels tempered somewhat by the up-canyon breeze in our faces. Flanked by high rock walls nearly identical to the Book Cliffs outside the town of Green River, we meander downriver, only covering perhaps two miles each hour because the river level has already dropped very low in this hot, dry spring (a prelude to what will become a scorching summer that eclipses heat records everywhere). Although the heavily silted water is too brown to see beneath the surface, my friend Vince Serio and I, sharing my two-person inflatable kayak, repeatedly dig our paddle blades into the sandy riverbed just a couple feet below the surface.

By mid-afternoon, 15 river miles from the put-in—but already feeling light years removed from civilization mentally—we pull the boats up to a sandy riverside camp called Gold Hole. A mostly clear, dry, windy evening arrives, along with the great relief of the canyon wall throwing our camp into shadow.

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An Unhurried Mindset

On the river by around 9 a.m. on our second morning, before the sun has fully crested the canyon wall—walls that rise taller with each mile we advance down Desolation Canyon—we paddle and float alternately through patches of warm sun and cool shade. An up-canyon wind blasts us with frequent, strong gusts; it seems to possess malign intent, bent on stalling our forward progress.

A great blue heron—the first of several we’ll see today, even more than yesterday—lifts off from the riverbank, where it had blended into the backdrop of sand, rock, and scrub brush, and glides just above the river’s surface with languid flaps of wings that span several feet. It looks absolutely prehistoric. 

Floating the Green River can induce a sense of dropping out of time. It’s easy to draw an initial impression of Desolation Canyon as true to its name—at first blush, it seems there’s nothing out here: sparse vegetation, little wildlife, no noise but for the river’s soft, percussive sounds and, less consistently, the wind.

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A great blue heron in the Green River in Desolation Canyon.
A great blue heron in the Green River in Desolation Canyon.

John Wesley Powell, leading the first expedition on the Green and Colorado rivers in 1869, described this part of their journey as “a region of wildest desolation,” and the name stuck. Floating the Green more than a century after Powell, in 1980, the beloved writer Edward Abbey called it “one of the sweetest, brightest, grandest, loneliest or primitive regions still remaining.”

Before long, though, we increasingly notice the abundance of life. Herons appear in surprising numbers, so still and inconspicuous in the shallows at river’s edge that I wonder how many of them we miss. Above us, wild horses graze a steep, rocky slope. Squadrons of swallows burst from tiny pockets in the face of cliffs and raptors circle high overhead. We seek out the shade of tall, broad cottonwood trees and, on hikes out of our camps, step carefully to avoid the prickly pear cacti and other desert flora that would jab needles into our legs.

But not many people. With just six river parties permitted to launch every day during the peak summer season on the Deso-Gray section of the Green, we see perhaps two other groups each day, and only briefly, in passing.

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A group of rafts and kayaks on the Green River in Desolation Canyon.
Our group on the Green River in Desolation Canyon.

It doesn’t take more than a day out here for an overwhelming sense of solitude to take over—and it sits comfortably beside the prevailing unhurried mindset that quickly sets in.

On our second evening, after a day of easy floating interspersed with bumping through fun wave trains and riffles, we make camp on a beach in Flat Canyon, where several of us take a 20-minute walk on a flat trail to some of the most detailed and elaborate petroglyphs I’ve ever seen.

Sleeping on the sandy beach, my 20-year-old son, Nate, and I awaken at some point to gaze up at one of the darkest night skies in the country. Stars riddle the moonless black dome overhead, a density of pinpricks unfathomable to most people who never see a night sky in a place far from the nearest city glow. The Milky Way looks like a silent procession of faint ghosts. It makes me happy to know that my kids have, already in their young lives, seen night skies like this countless times.

Cow Swim Rapid

On our fourth morning, we run playful, easy rapids—and in flatter stretches of the Green, struggle to paddle into, or at least not get blown back to the put-in by the relentless and powerful up-canyon wind, which had howled and shrieked throughout the night.

At midday, we take out on a tiny patch of riverside sand, tying off the duckies and rafts to keep them from drifting or blowing away. Then all of us who are paddling kayaks and most of the guides hike a sandy trail about 20 minutes to stand atop riverside boulders for a good look at the class III Cow Swim Rapid.

The Green gets pinched into a narrow channel with boulders littering its riverbed. From the top of the rapid, a well-defined V-shaped tongue of fast-moving, brown water accelerates forward, eventually disappearing into—or getting swallowed by—a choppy, chaotic swirl of whitewater. Immediately after entering the rapid, we’ll have to avoid a hole between two recirculating waves on river right; a couple hundred yards or more farther down, near the rapid’s bottom, more holes lie in wait to upend any boats that wander too far left. We must run it left of that upper hole and the first curling wave and right of the lower holes. Everyone in a hard-shell or inflatable kayak feels ready for it.

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Chicken Rock overlook above Three Canyon camps on the Green River in Desolation Canyon.
Marco Garofalo at Chicken Rock overlook above Three Canyon camps on the Green River in Desolation Canyon.

Launching the boats again, we proceed in a predetermined order, with two rafts piloted by guides leading, ready to retrieve any swimmers below the rapid. Nate, an experienced hard-shell kayaker, then sets the correct line for the four duckies following him; he’ll eddy out at the bottom of Cow Swim to help chase down anyone who swims. The other two guided rafts run sweep.

My brother-in-law Tom’s wife, Barb Peterson, who joined me in my inflatable kayak all morning—including fighting that headwind—stays on board for Cow Swim. We nail the entry move, watching the upper hole whip past close on our right. Then we smash through a series of big, loud waves, water in our faces as we work to steer rightward to avoid the lower holes. As everyone regroups below the rapid, all still in our boats, we let loose with hoots and cheers.

After a satisfying lunch—always impressed at how hungry we get just sitting and paddling—we float a few more miles into the afternoon. The wind continues its impersonation of commercial jets taking off, bending riverside bushes and tamarisk nearly to the ground.

A raft in Three Fords Rapid on the Green River in Desolation Canyon.
One of the rafts running Three Fords Rapid on the Green River in Desolation Canyon.

As we approach our next camp on a beach shaded by cottonwoods, with campsites amid juniper behind the beach, the wind seems to reach a climax, literally pushing waves upstream.

Nate spins his kayak around and tells me, “These are swells. I’m pretty sure that’s the first time I’ve surfed swells that are moving upstream on a river.”

Every evening in camp, we sit in a big circle of chairs and talk until after dark. A variety of games ensue on the beach. One late afternoon before dinner, our guides—lead guide Tyler Jameson, Lucy Gerber Brydolf, Brayden Davies, and Garrison “Gary” Petrie—plus Nate, Marco, my daughter, Alex, and my wife’s nephew, Andrew Peterson, all try to sprint the length of three upside-down duckies lined up end to end on the river (tied off to a raft)—every one of them, inevitably, toppling into the water before clearing all three wildly bouncing, inflatable boats.

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More Big Rapids

On our fifth morning, we leave camp in moderate winds—a big improvement over the howling gales of the past two days—with two bigger rapids coming up immediately, the first just minutes downriver. I ask Alex, 18, if she’ll join me in my inflatable kayak. After a moment of hesitation—owing to the wind and the shade hanging over the river magnifying the chill of getting soaked by big waves—she agrees. Apparently, my prediction that we probably won’t flip and swim either of the rapids convinces her.

We paddle hard into the first one, Wire Fence, bouncing and laughing through a wave train. On one of the bigger waves, Alex gets launched upward in the bow, for an instant hovering about four feet higher than me, before we crest the wave and slide down the other side. Below the rapid, we take out on the riverbank and watch everyone else run it as I shoot photos.

Then we float around the corner to run the class III Three Fords Rapid. 

A kayaker paddling Three Fords Rapid on the Green River in Desolation Canyon.
My son, Nate, kayaking Three Fords Rapid on the Green River in Desolation Canyon.

Three Fords marks the boundary between Desolation Canyon and Gray Canyon and straddles a major geologic signature known as the Cretaceous-Tertiary Line, or K-T Line (the “K” abbreviating the German word for Cretaceous). Discovered a century ago by geologists and visible at several sites around the world, the K-T Line denotes the end of the age of reptiles and the beginning of the age of mammals, about 65 million years ago. One of the greatest mass extinctions in the planet’s history, that period saw at least 75 percent of all species on Earth, in the seas and on land, including the dinosaurs, wiped out. More than 90 percent of plankton in the oceans died, leading to the collapse of the oceanic food chain.

That story sounds like a highly relevant parable for our current times, when we are living through the Earth’s sixth mass extinction, one triggered by our use of fossil fuels driving climate change. Scientists predict that 75 percent of animal species could vanish with the next three centuries—a radically faster rate than in past mass extinctions. And yet, whatever happens to humankind, this indifferent canyon will remain for many eons.

I ask our lead guide, Tyler, where I might shoot photos of everyone running Three Fords. Tyler has river guiding in her blood. Her older sister, Larkin, is also an HRE guide and their dad, Brett Jameson, guided for HRE in the 1980s.

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Pointing ahead, she suggests I hike along the riverbank to a rock ledge several feet directly above the first two, big waves of Three Fords, which are followed by a long wave train. Alex comes with me. It’s a great spot for photos and to spectate, and we cheer everyone on as they hit the entry waves one boat at a time.

Marco enters it as one of the first duckies and blasts through the first wave. We shout encouragement and he gives us a thumbs-up—releasing one hand from his paddle in the few seconds between the first two waves. Even before Alex finishes laughingly shouting at him, “Dude, hold onto your paddle!”, his boat begins to spin sideways. Instead of hitting a line left of a very large, crashing wave, he broadsides the wave; instantly, his ducky flips, throwing him out, and he’s swept downriver.

We watch as guides in rafts scramble after him. But while still in the long wave train, Marco executes an impressive self-rescue, flipping his ducky upright and climbing back into it to resume paddling—as if nothing happened.

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Duckies floating the Green River in Desolation Canyon.
Duckies floating the Green River in Desolation Canyon.

His swim and dramatic self-rescue blossoms into a story we’ll retell and laugh about in camp that evening—and probably for a long time.

After lunch, we paddle two miles of riffles and flat water and take out to scout Coal Creek Rapid, a class II+ to III. This one has a hole to avoid on the right soon after entering the rapid, followed by a series of large waves and rock hazards. Farther down, there’s another hole on the left that we need to avoid and is hard to see when running it—but that seems the least of our problems.

Once again, two rafts lead the way, trailed by Nate in his kayak and the four duckies, then the other two rafts. Joined in my inflatable kayak by wife, Penny, we avoid the first hole but creep a little too far right and hit a big wave head-on that we’d hoped to avoid. Fortunately, though, we narrowly dodge a huge rock to our right, staying in our boat.

Everyone loves it, including our Colorado friends Erin Gleason and Bill Mistretta, getting an introduction to paddling whitewater in a borrowed two-person inflatable kayak on this trip.

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Early morning on the Green River in Desolation Canyon.
Early morning on the Green River in Desolation Canyon.

By mid-afternoon, we stop on a sandy beach some four miles beyond Coal Creek Rapid, waiting out the hot sun’s descent under umbrellas as much as possible, and then having a fun, final evening on the river, with numerous matches of Can Jam, a Frisbee-based game that Erin brought.

As afternoon slips into evening, I notice a lone bighorn sheep traversing the steep canyon slope across the river and point it out to everyone. Early the next morning—after another starry night, a sight that never fails to stir a powerful sense of awe—a choir of birdsong builds to a volume that awakens some of us.

Floating toward the takeout on our last morning, sitting in a boat as it slowly spins around in a slowly moving river, watching a panorama of soaring, timeless canyon walls unfurl a new vista around every bend, and recalling the moments of thrill in the rapids in Deso-Gray, I look at the smiles on every face and think: This is something everyone should do at least once in a hectic lifetime.

But do it once and you’ll probably decide you want to do this again and again.

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THIS TRIP IS GOOD FOR rafters and kayakers of any experience level on guided trips, including families with young children. Unguided parties should have the skills for rapids up to class III and planning multi-day river trips.

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Still Waters Run Deep: Floating the Green River in Canyonlands https://thebigoutsideblog.com/still-waters-run-deep-tackling-americas-best-multi-day-float-trip-on-the-green-river/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/still-waters-run-deep-tackling-americas-best-multi-day-float-trip-on-the-green-river/#respond Sun, 26 Dec 2021 10:00:04 +0000 http://thebigoutside.net/?p=1842 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

“Oh, no, I wouldn’t take young kids down that river in May. It’s much too dangerous. I tell families to go in June or later, when the river’s lower.”

That was the dire warning issued to me over the phone by an employee with an outfitter based in Moab, Utah, that offers multi-day float trips down the Green River in Canyonlands National Park. His tone completely derailed me: Based on everything I’d read and heard, May was an ideal time for a family trip on the Green—which may well be America’s best easy float trip.

From the put-in at Mineral Bottom on the Green, through 52 miles of Stillwater Canyon and then four miles more on the Colorado River to the takeout at Spanish Bottom, the river slowly unfurls beneath a constant backdrop of giant redrock cliffs and spires. Off the water, you can take side hikes to centuries-old Puebloan rock art and cliff dwellings, camp on sandy beaches and slickrock benches, and maybe even spot bighorn sheep scrambling around on precipitous rock faces.

I had several friends excited about it. We’d comprise a party of 17, with nine adults and eight kids, the oldest 11, the youngest my four-year-old daughter, Alex. A few adults were experienced kayakers or canoeists, but most of our party were novices. I’d assured everyone we’d have no problems, that the river current would be gentle. But I’d never taken my kids on a multi-day river trip before, and I’d never been on the Green (though I had seen much of Stillwater Canyon while mountain biking the White Rim Trail in the park).

I like uncertainty in the backcountry, but encountering surprise challenges with little kids along can be stressful—and potentially dangerous. And at the other end of our group’s age range was my 80-year-old mother-in-law, Ann. High on my personal list of Big Screw-ups to Not Commit? Losing my mother-in-law on a river.


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So I checked into the river’s level and talked to people who knew the Stillwater section, including an employee at another outfitter—and ultimately concluded that first guy I spoke with was blowing a lot of unhelpful hot air, probably because he had never taken kids on a wilderness trip. He reminded me of other (usually childless) people I’ve encountered who, while well-meaning, seem to think children are like fragile glass vases that will shatter if not handled with extreme care. Like most kids I’ve known, mine are as fragile as an alligator.

We decided to go for it.

Under a blazing desert sun on a May morning at Mineral Bottom, we launch a small armada of three heavily loaded rafts, two kayaks (a single and a two-person), and a canoe. If we set out buzzing with excitement—adults all smiles and kids clearly feeling like they’re joining John Wesley Powell’s first descent into the unknown—we have no idea what a lasting impact the next five days will have on us.

That first afternoon, we tie up the boats to scrub brush on a riverbank of slick mud at Fort Bottom. Then we walk 15 minutes to the ruins of a one-room log cabin built in the 1890s by a rancher named Mark Walker. Not much more than 100 square feet, all that remains of it are walls of hand-cut logs, a stone chimney, and roof beams, the willows and mud that formed the roof long gone. Still, it’s remarkable that any of it still stands after a century of abandonment. We enter through the open doorway and walk around the small area of dirt floor, the kids both amused and awed by the vision of someone residing in such a tiny space so far from civilization.

Leaving Fort Bottom, we float into early evening as the long rays of sunlight burnish the deep reds of the canyon walls and cast long shadows across the river. The rippled water displays a complexion of blurred streaks mirroring the shades of crumbling rock above.

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Floating the Green River through Canyonlands National Park.
Floating the Green River through Canyonlands National Park.

We eventually find a campsite at Potato Bottom. The kids spray onto the beach to play and explore, while the adults commence what will become a three-hour ritual every afternoon of unloading boats, pitching camp, and feeding 17 people. Each morning, we’ll reverse that process—no faster—eating, packing up camp, reloading boats.

But if managing so large a group requires enormous effort, life on the river represents the diametric opposite: the height of leisure.

By our second morning, we adjust to the lazy rhythms of paddling and drifting for those several water-borne hours of each day, leaning back under a nuclear sun to watch it all slide torpidly by us: the ancient geology, the scattered, small groves of cottonwoods and willows, and the always-blue sky. We make slow progress rowing rafts burdened with several hundred pounds of gear, food, water, and humans. And the placid-almost-to-a-fault Green gives us very little speed assist. But we don’t care. We’re in no hurry.

The kids migrate between boats like pirates. They pull on a raft’s oars until bored with the task, eagerly jump at sharing the two-person kayak with an adult, take dips in the silted, chilly river, instigate water fights, and play cards or games in a raft.

We pull to a riverbank two or three times a day to investigate a side canyon or eat lunch. We know there are several other boating parties on the river because we see them in campsites every afternoon; but groups spread out on the slow river, so we rarely encounter those other people during our hours on the water. Generally by mid-afternoon, one of us lifts the lid of a cooler, and the soft hissing of a beer can opening draws our other boats toward the sound.

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Mark Fenton kayaking the Green River through Stillwater Canyon.
Mark Fenton kayaking the Green River through Stillwater Canyon.

“Dad, can we go in the kayak together?”

Our six-and-a-half-year-old, Nate, has been eyeing the two-person kayak covetously. So after lunch that second afternoon, we again shuffle bodies around between boats, and Nate and I cast off onto the brown water in the two-person hard shell. Easily gliding along much faster than the rafts, we paddle ahead of them, drift to let them catch up, circle a raft to ambush its occupants with splashes, and explore the base of cliffs shooting straight up out of the river.

Predictably, that evening, his little sister whispers the same request to me. So on our third morning I again take the two-person kayak out, this time with Alex in the front cockpit, so small her head and shoulders barely rise above the deck. She does her best to manage the two-bladed paddle that’s longer than she is tall, often content to just hold it.

“You’re an awesome kayaker,” I tell Alex. She turns around to me, her smooth-skinned little face split with such a wide smile that I have to smile, too. We spend just a couple of hours together in that boat, but I sense we’ll both remember it for a long time.

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Bus to Mineral Bottom. Bus to Mineral Bottom. Bus to Mineral Bottom. Stillwater Canyon, Green River. Stillwater Canyon, Green River. Stillwater Canyon, Green River. Stillwater Canyon, Green River. Stillwater Canyon, Green River. Fort Bottom. Fort Bottom. Fort Bottom. Stillwater Canyon, Green River. Stillwater Canyon, Green River. Stillwater Canyon, Green River. Stillwater Canyon, Green River. Stillwater Canyon, Green River. Stilwater Canyon, Green River. Stilwater Canyon, Green River. Floating the Green River through Stillwater Canyon, Canyonlands National Park. Stillwater Canyon, Green River. Stillwater Canyon, Green River. Stillwater Canyon, Green River. Stillwater Canyon, Green River. Stilwater Canyon, Green River. Stilwater Canyon, Green River. Stillwater Canyon, Green River. Spanish Bottom, Colorado River. Spanish Bottom, Colorado River. Spanish Bottom, Colorado River.

Later that third afternoon, I’m back in the two-person kayak with one of the six-year-old girls, Sofi. I paddle us far ahead of the group, looking for an available campsite big enough for our flotilla. But we keep passing campsites already occupied. The day turns into our longest on the water as we paddle into evening, Sofi and I so far ahead of the others that we don’t see them for two hours.

I worry that everyone behind us is growing tired, hungry, and grumpy. But Sofi utters not a complaint, content to eat snack bars, occasionally dip her paddle into the river, and bask in her extended adventure in the kayak, scouting ahead of our group.

Then I hear Sofi suck in her breath softly. She lifts an arm and points to the riverbank to our right. Not 10 feet from us, a great blue heron, shockingly tall, lithe, and absolutely still, stands in a shallow eddy, one eye staring back at us. I stop paddling and we drift in silence for a moment of frozen time. Finally, the giant bird spreads its wings as if throwing a cape over its shoulders, lifts itself from the water and flaps downriver, disappearing into the backdrop of red cliffs.

Eventually, I see Mark steaming toward us in the single kayak. A longtime whitewater paddler, he’s been dubbed “the fast guy” by the young kids. He catches up and points toward river left, asking, “How about over there?” It looks like a promising spot: a flat bench-like area a short scramble up a steep, rocky riverbank from the water. It turns out to be our best campsite of the trip: acres of dry, flat ground for tents, some shade, big rocks where we set up our kitchen area and lounge—and one huge boulder that quickly earns the moniker “Kid Rock,” where the kids all nestle like puffins on a seaside cliff, lost for hours in their stories and laughter.

The kids, age four to 11, clustered on "Kid Rock."
The kids, age four to 11, clustered on “Kid Rock.”

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Farther Than It Looks—Backpacking the Canyonlands Maze https://thebigoutsideblog.com/farther-than-it-looks-backpacking-the-canyonlands-maze/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/farther-than-it-looks-backpacking-the-canyonlands-maze/#comments Tue, 05 Oct 2021 22:04:08 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=48165 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

With our first steps on the descent from Maze Overlook into the labyrinth of mostly dry desert canyons that comprise one of the greatest geological oddities in the National Park System—the Maze in Utah’s Canyonlands National Park—we already face our first obstacle: Removing our backpacks, we scramble one by one over a ledge drop of several feet and pass our packs down.

But this introduction to the most technical section of our route merely hints at the arduous and improbable terrain awaiting around the corner.

Shouldering our packs again, the four of us follow a wildly circuitous trail mostly across slickrock, marked by cairns but otherwise unobvious and not visible on the ground. It takes a winding downhill course below redrock cliffs and towers, past mounds of shattered boulders resembling ancient ruins, and along the sloping rims of giant bowls of rippled stone. In several spots, we again remove and pass our packs down and scramble through tight crevices or downclimb a ladder of shallow footsteps chiseled into a sandstone cliff face.

A backpacker descending the trail off Maze Overlook in the Maze District, Canyonlands National Park.
Pam Solon backpacking down the trail off Maze Overlook in the Maze District, Canyonlands National Park.

After a shocking amount of time and effort—taking nearly three hours to descend just a mile and 500 vertical feet—we reach the sandy bottom of the South Fork of Horse Canyon. There, we commence a search to find the one natural spring that we’re counting on to sustain us for the next three days.

It’s the second morning of our five-day backpacking trip into the Maze, in the first week of March. My friends Todd Arndt, Pam Solon, and Jeff Wilhelm and I had arrived here two nights ago, spending the night before starting the hike in a primitive, waterless, roadside campsite on Bureau of Land Management (BLM) land just outside the park entrance, at around 6,500 feet. We awoke there yesterday to temps in the upper teens and—fortunately—warm, late-winter, high-desert sunshine.


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A backpacker descending the trail off Maze Overlook in the Maze District, Canyonlands National Park.
Pam Solon backpacking down the trail off Maze Overlook in the Maze District, Canyonlands National Park.

After checking in at the Hans Flat ranger station—surely one of the most remote ranger outposts in the country—and driving a few miles of rough road to the trailhead, we spent our first day hiking about 11 miles and 1,700 feet down the North Canyon Trail. The sun shone warmly but the temp probably never topped 40° F all day, if it even got out of the thirties, while a slight but wintry breeze kept us often wearing a couple of layers. By late afternoon, we found a place to camp near the rim of Horse Canyon, about a mile northwest of Maze Overlook.

When I stepped out of my tent during that clear and cold first night in the backcountry, my breath condensing in front of my face, the brilliant streak of the Milky Way across the ink-black sky felt almost alarming.

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Maze Overlook

We awoke on our second morning to another bluebird sky and ice in our water bottles and slammed a hot breakfast while gazing at distant cliffs burning red in the early sun. Hiking about 45 minutes up a four-wheel-drive road from our first camp—and seeing no vehicles on it—we reached the Maze Overlook.

It could be called Amazing Overlook.

Standing at the brink of the Maze Overlook’s white cliffs, the name bestowed upon the vast, chaotic sweep of sandstone fins, towers, and canyons below makes perfect sense: It could only be called the Maze. And from that prospect, it’s hard to imagine another place deserving of the moniker. Mesas and pinnacles loom above the twisting labyrinth of chasms, including the four tall, slender, brown pinnacles called the Chocolate Drops, misshapen as if partially melted.

A backpacker at the Maze Overlook in the Maze District, Canyonlands National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm at the Maze Overlook in the Maze District, Canyonlands National Park.

After our arduous descent off Maze Overlook, now well into our second afternoon, we follow occasional cairns and boot prints in sand down Horse Canyon’s South Fork, looking for the water source known as the Below Maze Overlook spring—which the ranger who issued our permit yesterday told us should be flowing.

After some searching, we find a trickle of water and attempt to trace it upstream to its source. But the trickle diminishes to stagnant puddles—and then disappears completely. After some bushwhacking, slogging through sand, and clambering over rocks in the dry creek bed, we realize that trickle was as good as we’re going to find. The ranger had warned that this had been a dry year and some springs may be dry already—even before the end of winter. Despite the cold, we were wise to come this early in the season.

We backtrack to the trickling stream, locate its deepest pool—perhaps four inches, enough to pump water—and, happy the stream is at least clear, we fill every bladder, bottle, and dromedary we brought. Then we hike maybe a half-mile farther, entering the mouth of the canyon traversed by the Chimney Route and turning onto a footpath leading up a short, dead-end side canyon. There, we find soft, flat ground for our tents, surrounded by towering walls of desert varnish.

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A backpacker at a campsite in the Maze District, Canyonlands National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm at our second campsite in the Maze District, Canyonlands National Park.

Rising above the canyon rim behind our camp, one of the Chocolate Drops seems to peer down at us curiously—at once closer to us as the crow flies than we would have anticipated but miles from us via any route that bipedal primates could walk.

As the sun sinks behind a cliff, heralding another calm, clear, and cold night, we pull on warm layers—and I contemplate how, over several hours today, we hiked a grand total of just over five miles.

Already, we’re learning this truth about the Maze: There are no direct lines and everything lies farther away, in both distance and time, than it looks.

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The Chimney Route

On our third morning, we awaken once again to ice in our water bottles; but in the steep-walled canyon enclosing our campsite, the sun’s warmth only reaches us as the four of us set out to dayhike a loop of almost nine miles—one that will prove more adventurous and scenic than I think any of us anticipates, despite the Maze Overlook vista having set the stage for it.

Less than an hour from camp, we stop before a panel of slightly faded pictographs painted across one wall of the broad, cottonwood-punctuated Pictograph Fork in the Maze—ancient art known as the Harvest Scene.

Dayhikers on the Chimney Route in the Maze District, Canyonlands National Park.
Jeff, Todd, and Pam dayhiking the Chimney Route in the Maze District, Canyonlands National Park.

Believed to have been created by the Archaic People who lived in this region from 8,000 to 2,000 years ago, predating the more widely known (but still little-known) Anasazi, the Harvest Scene’s age has been estimated at 3,000 years—created a millennium before the birth of Christ and the rise of the Roman Empire. Experts consider it identical to one of the most elaborate and best-preserved examples of rock art in the Southwest, the Great Gallery in the Horseshoe Canyon District of Canyonlands, not far north of this spot as the crow flies but also much farther away for non-flight creatures like humans.

Following the Chimney Route past the Harvest Scene, we walk along a nearly flat, sandy river wash in a dust-dry canyon that spans hundreds of feet across, with colorful and complex walls of red and white rock rising 200 to 300 feet tall. 

The canyon grows steeper and more rugged as we follow a well-cairned route up a narrow, overgrown, dry creek bed, eventually zigzagging up ledges on a canyon wall. In spots, rocks stacked by trail builders act as step ladders, enabling us to clamber over the smooth lip of a high ledge or a pour over carved by water from the rare downpours cascading off these cliffs. Patches of ice linger in shaded corners.

Pausing to survey the vertical landscape of rock all around us, an insignificant pocket within the much vaster breadth of the Maze, I can make out no obvious route through it; we’d be lost without these cairns or having the route mapped on a GPS app on Pam’s phone.

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Dayhikers on the Chimney Route in the Maze District, Canyonlands National Park.
Todd and Pam dayhiking the Chimney Route in the Maze District, Canyonlands National Park.

It’s eerily quiet in that way of environments rarely visited by moisture, where only small populations of the most tenacious species of plants and animals cling to a fragile existence. We step carefully around miniature gardens of biological soil crust.

Reaching the canyon rim, we follow widely spaced cairns indicating our route across a slickrock plateau. A slender tower of what looks like hardened, dark-brown mud appears ahead: Chimney Rock. Below that distinctive landmark, at the end of a four-wheel-drive road, we encounter the only other person we’ll see all day, a dayhiker on a roughly nine-mile loop from his campsite at Maze Overlook. In fact, he’s among just a handful of people we’ll bump into in five days out here.

Hikers on the Pete's Mesa Route in the Maze District, Canyonlands National Park.
Todd and Jeff hiking the Pete’s Mesa Route in the Maze District, Canyonlands National Park.

Like the frozen hands of a broken clock, three twisting trails emanate from Chimney Rock: the Chimney Route that brought us here; a trail that charts a winding course through Water Canyon and to the Dollhouse; and the faintest of the three, Pete’s Mesa Route, the one we want to take to complete this loop from our camp.

And there’s no trail signage. Except for the cairns and four-wheel-drive roads, little has visibly changed probably since the Archaic People walked these canyons.

Pete’s Mesa Route traces a high, broad ridge arcing back toward Horse Canyon. For most of its course, we stay up high, seeing the Chocolate Drops in the distance and nearer formations that resemble them. Trailless side canyons choked with fallen rocks and desert scrub tumble away to either side of us.

In the far distance, the topography subtly hints at a deep abyss where the Green River’s Stillwater Canyon meets the canyon of the Colorado River. Beyond that rise the candlestick towers of Canyonlands’ Needles District, while the muscular mesa of the park’s Island in the Sky District looms over everything.

A few miles from Chimney Rock, Pete’s Mesa Route rolls abruptly off the tableland, mimicking the Chimney Route’s zigzags across ledges where we can easily imagine bumping into desert bighorn sheep. We scramble down short, vertical drops, using more step ladders of stacked rocks. Reaching the bottom of another tight, anonymous side canyon, we walk down it until it dumps us back onto a familiar trail, where we know the way back to our tents.

As we stroll back into camp, about six hours after we left, Todd—who has taken countless hikes of all distances with me—calls today’s outing “one of the 10 best loop dayhikes I’ve ever taken.”

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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
How to Know How Hard a Hike Will Be

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Hiking to The Great Gallery Pictographs of Horseshoe Canyon in Canyonlands National Park https://thebigoutsideblog.com/3-minute-read-the-great-gallery-pictographs-of-horseshoe-canyon-in-canyonlands-national-park/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/3-minute-read-the-great-gallery-pictographs-of-horseshoe-canyon-in-canyonlands-national-park/#respond Sat, 02 Oct 2021 09:00:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=18355 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Here’s how you reach the best prehistoric Indian rock art in America: From Utah Highway 24, a remote two-lane bisecting the inhospitable desert between the rugged spine of the San Rafael Reef and the deep and isolated canyons of the Green and Dirty Devil rivers, turn east onto a dirt road at a small, easily overlooked sign for Horseshoe Canyon. (Reference point: It’s a tenth of a mile south of the turnoff for Goblin Valley State Park.) Drive about an hour on that sometimes rocky, sometimes sandy road—which can become impassable in heavy rain or when wind piles sand drifts across the road, and where a few roadside signs are the only indicators of civilization—to the West Rim Trailhead.

Then hike down into Horseshoe Canyon and nearly three miles up canyon to a panel of rock art that will reduce even the most seasoned pictograph and petroglyph hunters to awed silence.

The Great Gallery pictographs of Horseshoe Canyon in Utah's Canyonlands National Park.
The Great Gallery pictographs of Horseshoe Canyon in Utah’s Canyonlands National Park.

My family and another did just that on a weeklong trip to southeastern Utah. The nearly seven-mile, out-and-back dayhike of Horseshoe Canyon, a district of Canyonlands National Park, features red rock walls rising up to about 200 feet tall. But the hike’s main attraction are four pictograph panels, including one widely considered the “most significant” preserved example of prehistoric rock art in America.


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A detail of the Great Gallery pictographs in Horseshoe Canyon, Canyonlands National Park.
A detail of the Great Gallery pictographs in Horseshoe Canyon, Canyonlands National Park.

We passed actual dinosaur tracks hardened into rock on the switchbacking trail that drops 800 feet from the canyon rim into Horseshoe Canyon. In the canyon bottom, where a shallow stream nourishes a few stands of cottonwoods, we stopped at the first three panels of rock art on the hike, known (in order) as High Gallery, Horseshoe Gallery, and Alcove Gallery.

Then, about three-and-a-half miles from the trailhead, we walked up to a pictograph panel of colorful figures spanning some 200 horizontal feet beneath an overhanging canyon wall: the Great Gallery. Created by people who used pigments made from powdered minerals to paint on stone—as opposed to more-common petroglyphs, which are produced by chipping away the weather-darkened surface of rock to reveal lighter stone underneath—the Great Gallery consists of a row of mummy-like figures with heads but no limbs, as well as some human-like images and others that resemble bighorn sheep. The largest figures measure over seven feet tall.

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A volunteer ranger gave us an impromptu lecture about the rock art in Horseshoe Canyon, which dates back at least 2,000 years to the Archaic people, who predated the Anasazi and Fremont Indian cultures. Archaeologists are still studying the rock art of Horseshoe Canyon and trying to date it, but no one really understands the meaning or message the art was intended to convey, if any.

For information about hiking Horseshoe Canyon, see nps.gov/cany/planyourvisit/horseshoecanyon.htm.

See all of my stories about Canyonlands National Park, hiking and backpacking in southern Utah, national park adventures, and family adventures at The Big Outside.

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Playing the Memory Game in Escalante, Capitol Reef, and Bryce Canyon https://thebigoutsideblog.com/playing-the-memory-game-in-southern-utahs-escalante-capitol-reef-and-bryce-canyon/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/playing-the-memory-game-in-southern-utahs-escalante-capitol-reef-and-bryce-canyon/#comments Thu, 25 Mar 2021 10:30:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=4210 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Below a deep gash in a 50-foot-tall cliff of golden sandstone, shaded from the low, late-afternoon sun of early spring, I scramble up a steep slab using in-cut holds carved into the soft rock. Ten or 12 feet off the ground, I pull myself over the lip of a ledge to peer into a narrow cut in the earth, a hidden geologic oddity that lures in a certain type of hiker for one reason: because it’s barely wide enough for humans to squeeze through. And I have to smile.

I’m grinning first of all because I’ve found just what we had hoped to see. Water sometimes pools in a couple of potholes near the mouth of this slot canyon, and the air temperature today feels a little too cool to soak ourselves in cold water. Today, though, the sandy-bottomed, giant stone teacups are dry. But secondly, touching me on a more personal level, this canyon’s entrance looks much as I remember it from the first time I hiked through here, 16 years ago this month.

In less than two hours, my impression of this place will be almost completely remade.

“Yup, it’s dry,” I tell my gang waiting on flat ground below me. So my Boise friend Justin Hayes positions himself on a small ledge partway up the slab to spot the four kids as they take turns scaling it. Then my son, Nate, 12, and daughter, Alex, 10, and Justin’s son, Riley, who’s almost 12, and 10-year-old daughter, Kellan, all scrabble up the in-cut steps and walk into the slot canyon with wide eyes and gaping mouths.

And the six of us plunge forward up Peek-a-Boo Gulch, a well-known, quarter-mile-long, and very tight slot canyon in southern Utah’s Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument.


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A young boy in Peek-a-Boo Gulch, in Utah's Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument.
My son, Nate, in Peek-a-Boo Gulch, in Utah’s Escalante National Monument.

Our foray into Peek-a-Boo Gulch comes on the second day of a weeklong family trip to what might be called Utah’s “parks in the middle.” Between the world-famous destinations of Moab (base camp for Arches and Canyonlands national parks) to the northeast and Zion National Park to the southwest sit Bryce National Park and two lesser-known wild lands harboring a constellation of slots, arches, natural bridges, and broad canyons with soaring walls of red rock, Capitol Reef National Park and the Grand Staircase-Escalante.

I’ve planned seven days of hiking within these three parks. Some canyons will be new to all of us, while a few I’m revisiting after a hiatus of nearly two decades: Peek-a-Boo, its neighbor Spooky Gulch, and another classic Escalante trip, backpacking Coyote Gulch.

I want the kids to see these places because, if memory serves well, I’m confident these canyons will send them into paroxysms of excitement. So far, I’m right. But I’m also wondering how true my memories will be to the on-the-ground reality of places I have not seen in many years.

Memory is an unreliable recording device. Sometimes it gets details mostly right, but at other times it proves not so good with accuracy. Occasionally, returning to the site of fond recollections proves disappointing, if the place doesn’t measure up to your faded mental image of it—not uncommon if you’ve seen a lot of impressive scenery over the years since that first visit.

I wondered how differently I might see these corners of the Escalante today. If how poorly I fare whenever I play a memory game with my kids offers any clue, my mental pictures of these places may be in for a major edit.

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Chimney Rock, Lower Calf Creek Falls

We started this week with a morning dayhike of the 3.5-mile Chimney Rock Loop in Capitol Reef National Park, with sweeping views of the red and white cliffs and towers of the Waterpocket Fold, a nearly 100-mile-long jumble of sandstone. Then we drove south along UT 12, one of the most scenic roads in the country, to camp at Calf Creek Recreation Area, where the kids explored the year-round creek bouncing loudly through the campground and rocky ledges nearby (requiring one non-technical and, fortunately, injury-free rescue).

The next morning—a frosty one, with the temperature about 15° F when we got up (the rest of the week would get warmer)—we hiked the 5.5-mile, out-and-back trail from the campground up the high-walled canyon of Calf Creek to Lower Calf Creek Falls. A boisterous column of water 126 feet tall, it falls in braids from a notch in a mineral-streaked sandstone cliff. Later in spring, we would have taken a dip in the sprawling pool at the waterfall’s base; but despite the warm sunshine, a blustery, cold wind discouraged that idea. By late afternoon, we started hiking toward Peek-a-Boo and Spooky.

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Now, in Peek-a-Boo Gulch, we pull ourselves over short pour-offs and duck through natural arches. We twist and contort our bodies to squeeze between wildly curved walls that frequently narrow to just inches wide. Justin and I shove daypacks ahead of ourselves because we wouldn’t fit through the claustrophobic passage wearing them. Even the kids marvel at the delicately sculpted rock formed, incongruously, by the sudden violence of flash floods that follow rainstorms. Small as our children are, they struggle to push themselves through many spots—and the more confined it gets, the more animated they become. We’re wading through a flash flood of superlatives.

“Wow, this is so cool!”

“That’s amazing!”

“Awesome!”

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After about 40 minutes of trying to move like water flowing uphill, we emerge from the top end of Peek-a-Boo and follow an unofficial trail of footprints and cairns across about a mile of desert plateau, and then drop into the upper end of Spooky Gulch. And Spooky proves tighter than I remember—tighter even than Peek-a-Boo—with a boulder jam that I have no recollection of. The kids stare in awe at chockstones and logs jammed between the walls 20 feet overhead, indicating the high mark of a previous flash flood.

Continuously and crazily narrow, this stone corridor forces us to edge through sideways for most of its roughly quarter-mile length. In a few spots, I find myself contemplating the unsettling prospect of my head getting stuck. It brings some reassurance that I don’t recall my cranium jamming between these walls my first time through, years ago. And I’d probably remember that.

It’s nearly 8 p.m. by the time we return to our campsites at the Calf Creek Recreation Area, where my wife, Penny, and Justin’s wife, Cyndi, who drove down today, are waiting. Everyone’s hungry and tired but still tingling with excitement from the day’s adventures. Nate and Alex separately come and plop onto my lap as we sit around the campsite long after dark. Justin tells me his opinion of Peek-a-Boo and Spooky: “That was a 10, a total win.”

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Backpacking Coyote Gulch

“Well, I think we found Crack-in-the-Wall,” Nate announces as the eight of us stand at the brink of a sandstone cliff dropping straight down more than 50 feet.

It’s early evening on our third day in southern Utah. An hour ago, we started out from the Fortymile Ridge Trailhead in the Grand Staircase-Escalante, hiking with full backpacks across almost two miles of beach sand and slickrock formed from ancient, petrified dunes. At first glance, this cliff appears to offer no route to its base that wouldn’t involve rappelling. But the feature known as Crack-in-the-Wall actually provides a surprisingly easy descent, requiring only a little unexposed scrambling, a wide ledge traverse, and a squeeze through a slot about 100 feet long—too narrow to wear a pack through—that ramps gently down to the cliff’s base.

While Justin and I use a utility cord to lower the eight packs one at a time over the cliff to Cyndi and Penny below, the kids descend the Crack without needing any help. I can hear them gushing about it. Nate comes back up and announces to me, “I’m here to guide you.” When we finish lowering the packs, he leads Justin and me through the Crack. It is pretty darn cool.

Then we follow a path of boot prints in deep sand leading downhill. Before us stretches a breathtaking desert landscape of redrock towers and cliffs. The eye of Stevens Arch, some 220 feet across and 160 feet tall, looms above the Escalante River Canyon in the middle distance.

The trail deposits us in Coyote Gulch about a half-mile upstream from its confluence with the Escalante River in Glen Canyon National Recreation Area. Just before 7 p.m., in calm air at T-shirt temperature, we find a sandy beach campsite beside Coyote’s shallow but clear and steadily flowing creek. We adults pitch tents below walls painted in various hues of red streaked with black water stains and fire up stoves for a pasta dinner that will be a little crunchy with silt from the creek water. The kids play by the creek, launching sticks downstream that they bombard with rocks and mud grenades.

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Coyote Natural Bridge, Jacob Hamblin Arch

On our second day, we hike up Coyote Gulch, passing through a narrow chop the creek sliced through a rock wall. We pass a flume with curved walls and a series of waterfalls anywhere from three feet to about eight feet tall that crash over ledges into calm pools. We alternate between walking in sand and wading the typically ankle-deep creek. With a year-round stream here, trees and other greenery abound, a stark contrast against the burgundy cliffs.

After six miles, we pitch tents on the downstream side of Coyote Natural Bridge, a gaping hole big enough to drive a tractor-trailer through that the stream has bored through a 40-foot-tall sandstone fin. We have the big, sandy beach in the shade of the bridge all to ourselves. The kids are tired, having walked quite a bit against the stream’s current; but they spend hours, nearly till dark, playing in the water.

Coyote Gulch.
Coyote Gulch, Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument, Utah.

On our third morning, after just over an hour of hiking upstream, we reach a sweeping horseshoe bend in Coyote Gulch, beneath a wall some 200 feet tall that arcs overhead like a giant, standing clamshell, undercut nearly as deeply as it is high. The kids quickly discover it has amazing acoustics: We can yell a full three-word phrase and hear its distinct echo a second later.

Fresh tracks of bighorn sheep pepper the wet sand; they came through here either last night or early this morning. Just past the huge undercut we take a break below the 100-foot sandstone span of Jacob Hamblin Arch, one of Coyote’s highlights. Nate and I scramble up into the arch to pose for a photo, two ants in a massive hole in the cliff.

Coyote Gulch proves even better than memory. While never narrowing to slot proportions, the sheer walls at times loom close enough to give the impression of a deep, intimate canyon; and we frequently walk either in the creek or right beside it, magnifying that sense of intimacy. In other spots, the upper canyon walls spread a quarter-mile apart and rise up to 900 feet above the canyon bottom. In a sense, Coyote delivers a complete canyon-hiking experience, without any difficult spots, and with water for its length, but without you ever having to wade deep, cold water.

The trip’s last few miles, slogging up sandy Hurricane Wash, makes me glad we’re not out here on a hot day. The canyon walls in Hurricane begin sheer and tall but transform quickly to low slickrock domes offering no shade. Everyone has that end-of-the-backpacking-trip feeling that we’re ready to shuck off these packs. Still, I’m sure everyone, kids and adults, will carry some very positive memories of Coyote Gulch away from here.

After an hour-long drive back up Hole-in-the-Rock Road to the little, desert town of Escalante, we eat at a local restaurant and make an impromptu decision to drive to Bryce Canyon National Park, an hour away, to dayhike there tomorrow.

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Bryce Canyon’s Navajo Loop, Queens Garden, Peek-a-Boo Loop

Setting out on Bryce Canyon’s Navajo Loop/Queens Garden Loop at mid-morning on a brilliantly sunny, warm Friday can offer all the wilderness aesthetics of a trip to Albertson’s Supermarket. This is a popular trail—for good reason, with constant views of hoodoos, the multi-colored, limestone, sandstone, and mudstone spires that look like giant, misshapen candles, including the famous formation called Thor’s Hammer.

But once turning onto the park’s Peek-a-Boo Loop, we drop most of the crowds without sacrificing spectacular views—like the stretch of trail below the Wall of Windows, a row of cliffs with large holes eroded through them.

I’ve been to Bryce before but had never walked the Peek-a-Boo Loop. Now I see I was missing perhaps the park’s finest trail.

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A father and young daughter hiking the Navajo Loop/Queens Garden loop, Bryce Canyon National Park.
Justin and Kellan Hayes hiking the Navajo Loop/Queens Garden loop, Bryce Canyon National Park.

Memory does often fail us—or just distorts reality. But revisiting a favorite place, at a different time in your life, forges new memories to replace the old—especially if you go with different people or your children, anyone who gives you the gift of seeing a place anew through their eyes. Now my kids are creating their own memories of these Utah parks—memories doomed to be flawed but joyful. Maybe they will return one day with their kids. Maybe the highest purpose of memories is ultimately to pass them down through generations, each handler of them altering the content with each handoff, but still preserving some precious piece of these gems.

On our trip’s last day, back in Capitol Reef again, we hook up with my friend Steve Howe of Redrock Adventure Guides for a four-hour hike. From near the park campground, he leads us into Cohab Canyon. We detour briefly up a short slot canyon, then continue down Cohab and up a side trail to Fruita Overlook, with its panorama of the park’s formations above the Fremont River Canyon. Then Steve takes us up the Frying Pan Trail. We soon head off-trail, ascending a sandstone ramp, scrambling around the heads of deep, vertiginous slot canyons, walking over slickrock domes. Finally, we reach a cliff-top overlook of the Waterpocket Fold, a spot Steve calls one of the best views in the entire park.

And it is spectacular—reaffirming my impression that Capitol Reef is a stunningly gorgeous landscape and one of our most underappreciated national parks. This is perhaps my fifth trip here, and it always measures up to my past recollections. I guess my memory still proves reliable once in a while.

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NOTE: See my previous story about dayhiking, slot canyoneering, and backpacking in Capitol Reef National Park.

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Plunging Into Solitude: Dayhiking, Slot Canyoneering, and Backpacking in Capitol Reef https://thebigoutsideblog.com/plunging-into-solitude-dayhiking-slot-canyoneering-and-backpacking-in-capitol-reef/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/plunging-into-solitude-dayhiking-slot-canyoneering-and-backpacking-in-capitol-reef/#comments Thu, 17 Dec 2020 10:56:05 +0000 http://thebigoutside.net/?p=190 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

We stand on the rim of an unnamed slot canyon in the backcountry of Utah’s Capitol Reef National Park, in a spot that just a handful of people have seen before us. We’ve arrived here after hiking about two hours uphill on the Navajo Knobs Trail, and then heading off-trail, navigating a circuitous route up steep slickrock and below a sheer-walled fin of white Navajo Sandstone hundreds of feet tall, stabbing into the blue sky. Now I peer down at the narrow, deep, and shadowy crack that we have come to rappel into, and feel a little flush of anxiety.

By making the 100-foot drop into this slot canyon, to be followed by three more rappels, we will commit ourselves to going all the way through it—there will be no option to climb back out the way we’re going in. We know the walls will close in to about two feet or less apart. We also know that one long horizontal traverse through that claustrophobic chasm will require employing the rock climbing technique known as “chimneying,” where you press your feet, hands, and back against opposing rock walls, and meticulously reposition feet and hands one at a time to inch slowly sideways as you would climb up or down a chimney.

My wife, Penny, looks at me and asks gravely, “Are you sure about this?”

Neither of us is worried about ourselves. We are thinking about the two little people in our party who have never done anything quite like this before: our 11-year-old son, Nate, and daughter Alex, who turned nine a week ago.

We do have an ace in the hole, though: our other companion today, my buddy Steve Howe. Steve has been Backpacker Magazine’s Rocky Mountain Editor for years—which is how we became friends—and runs Redrock Adventure Guides. Having lived in nearby Torrey for more than two decades, he knows Capitol Reef’s backcountry quite possibly better than anyone. He and a friend of his made what was probably the first descent of this slot canyon only months ago, and Steve went down it most recently two days ago.


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Although this slot has no known name, for purposes of organizing this park’s largely anonymous wilderness in his own mind, Steve has dubbed it Stegosaur Canyon, and the unnamed but distinctive white fin soaring above us The Stegosaur. He calls the narrows section that we’re looking down on a “butt-crack slot”—a highly visual descriptor meant to inspire a mental image of a slice in the rock that continues narrowing as it drops deeper, eventually pinching down to just inches wide. Someone losing their grip on the walls in the chimney section could fall and become wedged in.

It is definitely serious stuff. But Steve and I had also discussed the difficulty of the slot canyon in painstaking detail at his house last night, and he showed me his pictures of it. I thought about the challenging situations Nate and Alex have handled well before—particularly rock climbing, which most closely parallels this endeavor, and where they had to follow instructions and remain calm. I became convinced that they could manage this.

When I tell Penny again that I think the kids will be fine—and Alex and Nate both insist they want to do it—she gives in to the implacable momentum of will to move forward. But she tells me, not entirely in a joking tone, “I’m holding you responsible.”

Yes, well then. It’s good to know where you stand.

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Scrambling up a flared crack on an off-trail hike in Capitol Reef.

A Little-Visited Park

We’ve come to Capitol Reef in the last week of March, on our kids’ weeklong spring break from school, to spend a couple of days on off-trail dayhikes with Steve and then backpack for three days into Spring Canyon.

Dominated by the Waterpocket Fold, a spine of sandstone ridges, cliffs, canyons, and spires that extends nearly 100 miles from Thousand Lake Mountain to Lake Powell in southern Utah, Capitol Reef is one of the largely overlooked gems of the National Park System. Situated between more-famous Zion and Bryce national parks to the southwest and Arches to the east, with minimal infrastructure and roads to attract the masses of tourists who never stray far from their vehicle, Capitol Reef (like Canyonlands, another easterly neighbor) sees a small fraction of the visitors that flood those other parks. So few people venture into the backcountry that you can show up at the visitor center’s backcountry desk here on the day you want to start a multi-day trip and grab a permit for wherever you want to hike, no reservation needed. Try that at Yosemite or Grand Canyon.

On previous visits, I had discovered that Capitol Reef has scenery comparable to its neighboring parks—but it feels wilder, less overrun. I’ve squeezed through other slot canyons here, hiked trails through a landscape of rock formations that look sculpted by a giant child with an unlimited supply of mud and crayons, and camped below night skies lit up like Times Square with stars.

During conversations at home before the trip, the kids had eagerly suggested we go backpacking and descending a slot canyon during their spring break. So we came here fired up for an adventure.

Steve Howe in Blow Sand Canyon.
Steve Howe in Blow Sand Canyon.

Off-Trail Dayhike

Yesterday, our first day in the park, we dayhiked with Steve from the end of the park’s Scenic Drive into Capitol Gorge, a wide, sandy-bottomed canyon of sheer walls. Steve pointed out petroglyphs of bighorn sheep, deer, and sun figures that are 900 to 2,000 years old, carved by Fremont Indians who once inhabited these canyons. After walking 30 minutes down Capitol Gorge, we turned onto The Tanks Trail, ascending steeply a quarter-mile to rock basins the size of small swimming pools, filled with water—features found throughout the Waterpocket Fold, explaining its name.

Then we left the trail behind, following Steve up and up onto the almost barren, wildly contorted, otherworldly rock-scape of the reef formation. Domes of rippled white, red, and golden sandstone, petrified sand dunes from the age of dinosaurs, rose above us on all sides. Alex noticed something moving in the distance, and we all turned to watch a bighorn sheep grazing on one of the rare patches of vegetation growing up there. We scrambled, often on all fours, up a steep slope of loose, shifting talus blocks, traversed a sidewalk-like ledge across a cliff, and wriggled our way up a flaring groove in stone.

Explore Capitol Reef off-trail and you quickly understand why it remains so unknown: It would take years of patient, hit-or-miss forays over its convoluted, labyrinthine topography—and countless episodes of getting turned back by impassable cliffs and canyons—to piece together a twisting, seemingly improbable route that actually got you from point A to point B. In other words, it would take the kind of time that Steve has put into getting to know this park.

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Hikers in Capitol Gorge in Capitol Reef National Park. Hikers in Capitol Gorge, in Capitol Reef National Park. The Tanks Trail, Capitol Reef. The Tanks Trail, Capitol Reef. Off-trail above Capitol Gorge. Off-trail above Capitol Gorge. Off-trail above Capitol Gorge. Off-trail above Capitol Gorge. Off-trail above Capitol Gorge. Alex in Blow Sand Canyon. Off-trail below the Golden Throne. A hiker off-trail below the Golden Throne in Capitol Reef National Park. Rappelling near the Golden Throne. Squeeze chimney we rappelled. Golden Throne Trail. A hiker on the Golden Throne Trail in Capitol Reef National Park. Fern's Nipple from Navajo Knobs Trail, Capitol Reef. Navajo Knobs Trail. Off-trail above Navajo Knobs Trail. Off-trail below The Stegasaur. Off-trail below The Stegasaur. Stegasaur Canyon narrows. Nate rappelling into Stegasaur Canyon. Steve Howe in Stegasaur Canyon. Penny in Stegasaur Canyon. Nate in Stegasaur Canyon. Nate and Steve in Stegasaur Canyon. Penny in Stegasaur Canyon. Steve and the kids in Stegasaur Canyon. Alex rappelling out of Stegasaur Canyon. View from Navajo Knobs Trail. Nate, Chimney Rock Trail, Capitol Reef. Chimney Rock Trail. Chimney Rock Trail. Chimney Rock Trail. Chimney Rock Canyon. Chimney Rock Canyon in Capitol Reef National Park. Chimney Rock Canyon. Spring Canyon, Capitol Reef. Spring Canyon. Spring Canyon. Spring Canyon campsite. Spring Canyon campsite. Spring Canyon. Spring Canyon. Kids in windows, Spring Canyon. Alex in Spring Canyon. High trail around pour-offs, Spring Canyon. Balanced rock, Spring Canyon. Spring Canyon. Chimney Rock Canyon. A view from the Chimney Rock Loop in Capitol Reef National Park. A view from the Chimney Rock Loop in Capitol Reef National Park.

At a high pass, we sat down in warm sunshine and gusts of cool, early spring wind for a break. Below us unfolded a valley lined by white and golden cliffs and spires, a spot also unlabeled on maps but Steve says is known to a few locals as Blow Sand Canyon. We hiked to its upper end, to the base of a feature that actually is named on maps and visible from many points in the park, a massive dome called the Golden Throne.

Whenever we walked across beach sand yesterday, I looked for other footprints, but saw none. In 22 years of exploring Capitol Reef, Steve told us, “I have never, ever encountered another person while hiking off-trail in the park.”

As if to punctuate that point, near the end of our rugged, six-mile, mostly off-trail dayhike, as we descended a gully of loose rock, Steve noted, “Probably no one has walked through here since I came here 10 years ago.”

That gully narrowed into a slot that abruptly turned vertical. We pulled out two ropes and we adults rappelled about 12 feet over blocks of stone jammed in between the slot’s walls; we lowered Alex and Nate over. Then we descended one at a time, helping the kids as needed, through a vertical chimney that was sort of like a twisting sandstone laundry chute. That dropped us into a short, narrow hallway that terminated at a cliff, where we made a 25-foot rappel—lowering the kids again—to the ground. As the late-afternoon March sunshine started throwing long shadows across the cliffs and domes in the distance, we picked up the Golden Throne Trail and hiked the two miles back to our car.

After seeing how Nate and Alex did on that rugged day, Steve told me, “Your kids can handle Stegosaur Canyon.”

Now we are about to find out.

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Nate exploring an unnamed slot canyon in Capitol Reef.

Descending the Slot Canyon

On the rim of Stegosaur Canyon, we put on climbing harnesses. Steve makes the 100-foot rappel first, followed by Nate, who rappels on his own, though I back him up with a belay on a second rope. I lower Alex, then Penny and I follow—and we are in the hole.

I see none of the usual signs of human traffic, like a beaten path or the branches of the occasional bush broken off. We scramble over rocks deposited by periodic flash floods, push through brush, and use a rope to lower over two vertical drops of about 15 feet. The walls steadily close in and rise maybe a couple hundred feet above us, keeping us in cool shade. Then the canyon makes a 90-degree left turn, and we stop at the mouth of the narrows.

The walls close in to two feet or less apart—too tight to squeeze through wearing our daypacks, which we take off to carry in one hand while edging sideways over sand and rocks. At the chimney section, Steve and I cross first with Nate between us, talking him through placing his feet, hands, and back side against small features in the walls to inch gradually across the traverse. Maybe 20 feet below us, the canyon constricts to a crack less than a foot wide with several inches of standing water.

Leaving Nate at the other end of the 100-foot traverse, Steve and I chimney back and repeat the procedure with Alex. Both kids traverse it slowly and calmly—just the way they should—and beam with pride at the other end. Beyond the chimney section, we hike through more sandy-bottom narrows, the walls still not much more than shoulder-width apart, to emerge from the canyon’s mouth, where it ends in a 100-foot pour-off that we rappel and lower off.

Later, back at Steve’s house, he and I measure Stegosaur Canyon’s length on his mapping program: it’s 0.6 mile long. It took us three hours to descend the slot canyon itself, sandwiched between an approach hike of about three hours and an exit hike of another hour or more—a pretty full day, and one of my kids’ most exciting adventures to date.

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Penny backpacking to Spring Canyon in Capitol Reef.

Backpacking Spring Canyon

At the park visitor center on our third morning in Capitol Reef, the ranger at the backcountry desk tells me that we’re the only party that has obtained a permit to backpack into Spring Canyon today, our third day in the park. We’ll see a few dayhikers in Chimney Rock Canyon, the tributary of Spring Canyon where we’ll begin and end our three-day hike. Beyond that, we’ll have the entire canyon to ourselves.

It’s at least nine miles from the Chimney Rock Trailhead to the bottom end of Spring Canyon, where it meets the Fremont River. While some hikers knock it off in a day, backpackers often do it as an overnight trip, to spend a night below Spring’s soaring red walls. But at the canyon’s mouth, you have to ford the river to reach UT 24. When we eyeballed the river yesterday, we decided it was moving too fast and deep to ford it with the kids. So we’ll hike in six or seven miles and camp two nights, giving us a day to explore farther down canyon before hiking back out the way we came in.

The temperature sits around 60 degrees and the sun filters through a slight haze; we wear T-shirts and shorts without breaking much of a sweat starting up the Chimney Rock Trail. To our left, burnt red and orange walls rise some 300 feet tall above steep slopes of broken rock and fine sand; to our right stand darker burgundy cliffs of Moenkopi Shale with horizontal striations in hues of red, including the severe pinnacle called Chimney Rock. A 30-minute climb through switchbacks on a good trail brings us to a pass, where we start the gentle descent into broad, sun-baked Chimney Rock Canyon.

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Guide Steve Howe, Redrock Adventure Guides, Torrey, UT, (435) 425-3339, redrockadventureguides.com.

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The Most Beautiful Hike You’ve Never Heard Of: Crossing Utah’s Capitol Reef https://thebigoutsideblog.com/the-most-beautiful-hike-youve-never-heard-of-crossing-utahs-capitol-reef/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/the-most-beautiful-hike-youve-never-heard-of-crossing-utahs-capitol-reef/#respond Sun, 27 Sep 2020 09:00:40 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=8564 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

We enter a steep, claustrophobically narrow gully, looking up at boulders that appear barely glued in place by a mortar of dried mud. Ready to rain sandstone jihad upon us, they send a silent message that we have taken a wrong turn in this unnamed side canyon in the wilds of southern Utah’s Capitol Reef National Park and should retreat—immediately. This seems about as likely to be our route as we are likely to run into a fish plucking a harp out here in the high desert.

But I set my pack on the ground and tell my friend, David Gordon, that I want to scramble up to the top of this 12-foot-deep gully for a look around. Years of backcountry travels have instilled in me the often helpful, occasionally regrettable habit of wanting to confirm definitively when I’m going the wrong way. At the top, I see only walls of vertical rock a couple hundred feet tall looming above us. “There’s no way we’re going up there,” I tell David. Then I start carefully scrambling back down to him.

First day on the Beehive Traverse, Capitol Reef.
First day on the Beehive Traverse, Capitol Reef.

My foot grazes a boulder the size of a beach ball, probably weighing at least 300 pounds. It erupts from its nest of hardened mud and crashes down the gully. David leaps out of its path as the rock smashes apart where he was standing, right next to my pack—fortunately, without damaging it.

I reflexively spit out an unprintable noun, then follow it with words to David that sound entirely inadequate: “Sorry about that.” He’s rattled only briefly. A longtime climber, whitewater kayaker, and backcountry skier, he understands that the wilderness hides hazardous surprises. Still, it’s poor etiquette to drop a boulder on your hiking partner.

David and I are attempting a three-day, mostly off-trail traverse of a stretch of the signature geological formation in Capitol Reef—the rugged and vertiginous, 100-mile-long maze of canyons, sandstone towers, and cliffs known as the Waterpocket Fold. I knew this trip would pose some of the most difficult navigational challenges I’ve ever faced in the 30 years of wilderness adventures. But I didn’t think we’d get off-route in the first hour.

We scrutinize the map, check the GPS again, and discover our mistake. Our route actually follows ledges above us on a wall of this tributary canyon of Grand Wash. We are off by maybe 40 horizontal feet, but about 200 vertical feet—illustrating the complexity of navigating off-trail in this labyrinthine wonderland.

Backtracking, we find the way up onto those ledges. Minutes later, rounding a bend, we come face-to-face with a young bighorn sheep. It stares at us, looking momentarily perplexed, and then resumes browsing some scrawny bushes. He appears not terribly excited by the sudden appearance of two humans in a place he may have never seen one before.

Within our first hour out here, we’ve taken our first wrong turn, seen our first bighorn sheep, and I’ve nearly killed David with a loose boulder. It seems a mixed launch for the most unlikely kind of outdoor adventure in America today: backpacking a route that very few people have hiked before us.


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Steve Howe, unnamed canyon behind Chimney Rock, Capitol Reef. Steve Howe, unnamed canyon behind Chimney Rock, Capitol Reef. Steve Howe in unnamed canyon behind Chimney Rock (not on Beehive Traverse), Capitol Reef. Steve Howe in unnamed canyon behind Chimney Rock (not on Beehive Traverse), Capitol Reef. Steve Howe in unnamed canyon behind Chimney Rock (not on Beehive Traverse), Capitol Reef. Bighorn sheep on Beehive Traverse, Capitol Reef. First day, Beehive Traverse, Capitol Reef First day, Beehive Traverse, Capitol Reef

Crossing Capitol Reef’s Waterpocket Fold

My longtime friend Steve Howe, a local guide who has lived in the tiny burg of Torrey, near Capitol Reef, for about 25 years, spent many seasons working out this cross-country hike, which begins at Grand Wash and zigzags south a very circuitous 17 miles—through canyons, up and down steep scree and slickrock, and over passes—to Capitol Gorge. Steve calls it the Beehive Traverse, for the towers of rippled sandstone that populate this landscape.

Steve’s route crosses a no-man’s land of topography so violently tortured, so wildly convoluted it boggles the mind that someone could puzzle out a way to walk so far through it without constantly dead-ending at cliffs—as Steve did countless times while exploring it, and David and I are fated to do as well, despite having a GPS and a map marked up with Steve’s detailed route directions. Over the course of three days, David and I will average about one mile per hour on the hike, and several times reach spots where we will look around at walls of nearly vertical stone above and below us, absolutely perplexed, wondering where to turn next.

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Second day on the Beehive Traverse, Capitol Reef.
Second day on the Beehive Traverse, Capitol Reef.

At his house last night, Steve told us, without hesitation, that his Beehive Traverse is “just as nice as the John Muir Trail”—the 211-mile footpath through the High Sierra often called “America’s most beautiful trail.” Steve has hiked, backpacked, climbed, and skied all over North America and the world; he brings some creds to that claim.

He knows the local backcountry quite possibly as well as anyone. He has led my family on a pair of one-day adventures in Capitol Reef, a dayhike and a technical descent of a slot canyon. And the day before David arrived, Steve took me on a dayhike of about eight miles in the park to show me another canyon rarely seen by people. We hiked up the Chimney Rock Trail to a saddle overlooking the long escarpment of neon-red cliffs rising above the lone highway that worms through Capitol Reef.

There, Steve and I left the trail and picked our way across a steep slope of crumbling talus. After crossing a pass, we descended into a canyon of soaring, sculpted walls. In spots, we had to scramble up or down short cliffs, using big, hueco-like holds and scooped-out “windows.” Except for a single set of boot prints that reappeared in sandy areas—Steve speculated that a park ranger came down here in recent days—we saw no other signs of people having ever been in there.

Near the bottom of the canyon, where we skirted a pour-off, or overhanging cliff, at least 50 feet high by ascending a steep gully, Steve said to me, “This is what a national park oughta be.”

I’ve thru-hiked the JMT and gotten around quite a bit myself, from numerous U.S. national parks and wilderness areas to tick-list international destinations like Patagonia, Iceland, Nepal, the Alps, and New Zealand. Ever since Steve first told me about his Beehive Traverse, I’ve been eager to see whether it measures up to his lofty claims.

But equally intriguing is the fact that few people—mostly clients guided by Steve—have walked this route before us.

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

 

There Will Be Blood

Not long after passing the bighorn sheep, David and I ascend a slope littered with thorny desert scrub and rocks that tumble away beneath us as often as they stay in place. I whack a shin on a rock; blood starts trickling down my leg, and within minutes, a brightly purple lump rises from the skin. “We’ll be lucky to not go home with bloody shins,” I tell David. He responds, “We’ll be lucky if that’s all that happens.”

We cross another pass and walk along the crest of a fin of rock with precipitous drops to either side. Enormous, white and golden sandstone towers erupt from the earth for miles in every direction; just as abruptly, the ground falls away into deep, impassable canyons. We hike past a distinctive formation that looks like a giant, cream-colored Hershey’s Kiss: Called Fern’s Nipple, it’s visible from some hiking trails in the park and one of just two named features along the Beehive Traverse. The other, the Golden Throne, we’ll pass on our last day. In between lies a nameless expanse that comes as close to terra incognita as one can get in an era when you can go online and look at a satellite-transmitted image of just about any spot on Earth.

It seems impossible that there could still be backcountry in the Lower 48 that remains largely unknown. But this is the desert Southwest, arguably the most forbidding terra firma between Canada and Mexico. Not far from here, in 2003, solo canyoneer Aron Ralston lay trapped for days in Blue John Canyon before famously cutting off the forearm that was pinned by a boulder probably about the size of the one I dislodged above David.

The nearby Henry Mountains were the last place mapped in the contiguous United States. Wayne County, location of Capitol Reef National Park, has a population density of one person per square mile—partly because most of the county is public land, and partly because Wayne County largely consists of parched and desolate canyons and badlands, too hot in summer and too cold in winter, where for much of the year the relentless wind could shave the whiskers off an old miner’s face.

Plan your next great backpacking the Teton Crest Trail, Wonderland Trail, or in Yosemite or other parks using my expert e-guides.

 

Second campsite on the Beehive Traverse, Capitol Reef National Park.
Second campsite on the Beehive Traverse, Capitol Reef National Park.

Over three decades of traveling through wilderness on foot, skis, a rope, and water, I can count on my fingers the number of times I’ve visited a place seen by few other people in modern times, or even just taken a multi-day trip where I’ve seen no known except at the very start and finish. Both of those descriptors will apply to this Capitol Reef traverse.

Those experiences shared one quality that tends to thin the crowds: hard. They included a seven-day ski tour through Yellowstone, following a route that a ranger told us no one else had done that entire winter; trekking the four-day Dientes Circuit at the southern end of South America in Chilean Patagonia; and whitewater kayaking the remote desert canyons of the upper Owyhee River in southwest Idaho and eastern Oregon.

On all of those trips, my companions and I not only saw no one, but the passage of hours and days solidified an expectation that we would see no one. Real solitude rearranges the way we perceive the world: It expands the open spaces around us, attunes our ears to every noise, sharpens the edges of everything we see. Solitude in wild country makes us feel more alive.

So the prospect of many wrong turns wasn’t about to keep David and me off the Beehive Traverse. Apparently, not even one tumbling, 300-pound boulder could do that.

After the Beehive Traverse, hike the other nine of the 10 Best Backpacking Trips in the Southwest.

First day, below Fern's Nipple, Beehive Traverse. First day, Red Man Canyon, Beehive Traverse. First day on the Beehive Traverse. Big Slabs campsite, Beehive Traverse. Sunset from Big Slabs campsite, Beehive Traverse. Second morning, Beehive Traverse. Canyon wall, second day, Beehive Traverse. Past the "great overlook," second day, Beehive Traverse. Just past the "great overlook," second day, Beehive Traverse.

A Rope… Just In Case

That first afternoon, in another dry slice in the Waterpocket Fold that Steve calls Red Man Canyon because of a formation that vaguely resembles a red snowman, we stop at the top of a 100-foot pour-off. To either side rise steep canyon walls. The map and GPS data suggest we must traverse the cliff to our right to get around the pour-off and continue down canyon. But that looks dangerously exposed. From where we stand, there appears no way down.

Inside my pack, besides camping gear, food for three days, and four liters of water, I’m carrying 100 feet of rope and a climbing harness in case we need to rappel off any cliffs. The Beehive Traverse is a non-technical hike, not requiring a rope. We brought the cord just in case, hoping to not have to use it—maybe mostly because of what using the rope would mean: that we’re in the wrong place.

David decides to go left, taking a longer but less-exposed route up that side of the canyon, scrambling over talus to circle around the pour-off. I watch him, hearing the rocks he kicks loose clattering downhill.

Meanwhile, I walk up to the cliff that Steve’s map shows the route traversing—and discover it’s not as exposed as it appeared from farther away. So I carefully cross it, following narrow but passable ledges. Eventually, David and I rendezvous below the impassable pour-off, having made forward progress of about 50 meters in 50 minutes.

By late afternoon, we descend a long, slickrock ramp toward an incongruous sight out here: a pool of clear, blue water near the campsite that Steve calls Big Slabs Camp. In the evening, the wind suddenly kicks up, rolling gusts of 30 to 40 mph down the canyon. One gust tugs the tent free of the rocks we used to stake it out and starts rolling our shelter away. So we relocate it to the lee of some ledges. The sunset sets fire to thin clouds hanging low over a canyon rim.

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Second day, Beehive Traverse. Bighorn sheep skull, second day, Beehive Traverse. Cryptobiotic soil, second day, Beehive Traverse. Second day, Beehive Traverse. Second day, Beehive Traverse. Pothole, second day, Beehive Traverse. Second day on the Beehive Traverse. Second day on the Beehive Traverse. Second day, Beehive Traverse.

Reminiscent of Zion

On our second morning, with the sun trying to pierce a thin overcast and temps in the 50s, David and I hike along another high, spine-like ridge to a point where it makes a horseshoe turn. Steve had labeled this point on the map simply “great overlook.” That’s an understatement. We stand on one rim of a canyon walled in by high, white-rock walls etched in the familiar checkerboard pattern of cracks, and capped by mesas of red rock, all of it lightly sprinkled with patches of pinyon-juniper greenery. It reminds me of the most scenic stretch of the magnificent West Rim Trail in Zion National Park—except, of course, that here there are no other people and there is no trail.

Because we’re not following a route that has seen many boots before us—and the sandstone here is so brittle—everywhere we walk, rocks slide out from under our feet, loose soil collapses beneath our steps, and large, stone platters snap in two and shift under our weight. I feel at times like Wile E. Coyote crossing a natural bridge, over a gaping abyss, that’s crumbling with his every step. On trails in this park, many of the loose rocks have already been cleared away by trail workers or dislodged and kicked off by hikers. Out in this virgin terrain, we are the minesweepers.

An hour later, clouds move in and a light but steady rain starts falling. The wind scours the rocky ground and tugs at my jacket’s hood. We reach a cliff band 10 or 12 feet tall that appears to block our way. Again, the map comes out, I check the GPS—it appears we’re supposed to somehow surmount this cliff. Then we see our doorway: a tiny slot less than shoulder width that provides a steep and very tight but passable ramp leading to the cliff top. I take off my pack and squeeze up through it first; David passes the packs up to me, then follows.

By mid-afternoon on day two, we reach a spot Steve calls bighorn skull campsite—and see the bighorn sheep skull exactly where he said we’d find it. We also see the two big potholes that Steve thought would be full of water now, in early April. But they’re dry. We investigate the vicinity but find no water. It looks like we’ll have to hike out to the Capitol Gorge Trailhead today instead of tomorrow morning—a disappointing thought to not get another night out here.

But then we get lucky. About 20 minutes farther up the canyon, we come upon three potholes in succession filled with good, clear water. Golden and sangria-colored cliffs surround us. On a flat area of slickrock near the potholes, we pitch the tent—our second night on the Beehive Traverse saved.

A trip like this goes better with the right gear. See my picks for “The 10 Best Backpacking Packs
and “The 8 (Very) Best Backpacking Tents.”

Second campsite on the Beehive Traverse. Scrambling to Rabbit Ears Pass, Beehive Traverse. Blow Sand Canyon, Beehive Traverse. Butt Hole Crack, third day, Beehive Traverse. Crossing ledge, last day, Beehive Traverse. Above the Tanks Trail, Beehive Traverse, Capitol Reef.

‘Favorite Spot So Far’

It’s an idyllic myth, popularized in magazines, that there remain today unexplored corners of the world. In reality, there aren’t many, especially not within the contiguous United States. But there are places rarely seen by people—and for good reasons, as this traverse of Capitol Reef illustrates.

It’s easy to see why there aren’t many constructed park trails on the Waterpocket Fold. Any effort to build a trail would constantly run up against cliffs or steep talus where inexperienced hikers could get into trouble. Never mind the costs of maintaining a trail likely to be routinely obliterated by rockslides and flash floods. Steve’s secret route should be fairly safe for a while, anyway.

On our final morning, five minutes up canyon from our second campsite, David and I turn left and scramble very steeply up a gully of rotten rock. I take great care not send any boulders tumbling toward him. After a half-hour of scrambling, we reach a notch Steve has named Rabbit Ears Pass, for a rock formation on the other side that looks like a pair of rabbit ears jutting up above the sloping slickrock.

Tell me what you think.

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Luck of the Draw, Part 2: Backpacking Zion’s Narrows https://thebigoutsideblog.com/luck-of-the-draw-part-2-backpacking-zions-narrows/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/luck-of-the-draw-part-2-backpacking-zions-narrows/#comments Wed, 21 Aug 2019 09:00:00 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=23306 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

We step into the ankle-deep North Fork of the Virgin River, in the backcountry of Zion National Park, and water at refrigerator temperature immediately fills our boots. Until sometime tomorrow afternoon, we’ll walk in this river almost constantly, crossing it dozens of times—with the 50° F water, at its deepest, coming up nearly to our waists. As we splash downstream, the canyon walls of golden, crimson, and cream-colored sandstone steadily creep inward and stretch higher, soon eclipsing the sun. We’ll see very little direct sunlight as the sheer walls of Zion’s Narrows eventually tower a thousand feet overhead and, at times, close in to the width of a hobbit’s living room.

Drinking in the scenery, I’m feeling a surreal sense of luck just to be in this place, considering that, for various reasons, it has taken my friend David Gordon and I a few decades to finally get here—and the fact that it’s sunny and warm in November as we set out on one of the most uniquely beautiful and sought-after backpacking trips in the entire National Park System.

The Narrows is the roughly 14 miles of the North Fork’s canyon upstream from where the road in Zion Canyon ends at the Temple of Sinawava. Enormously popular, the lower end of the Narrows teems with hundreds and sometimes thousands of dayhikers on hot days of late spring and summer, when the river is warm and low. Many of those people don’t go beyond the first mile or two of the Narrows, while some hike as far as Big Spring, five miles upriver, the farthest point you’re allowed to venture without a wilderness permit.

Backpacking the Narrows from top to bottom—16 miles from the Chamberlain’s Ranch trailhead to the Temple of Sinawava trailhead—requires a permit that’s very hard to get, whether you try to reserve a campsite in advance (they get scooped up as soon as they become available) or try to get a permit on a walk-in basis no more than a day in advance of starting the two-day trip.

Click here now to get my e-guide The Complete Guide to Backpacking Zion’s Narrows.

Day one backpacking the Narrows, Zion National Park.
David Gordon on day one backpacking the Narrows, Zion National Park.

But there’s one other way of snagging a permit—perhaps the easiest, given the towering hurdles of the other two methods, though it does involve pure luck. The park holds a Last Minute Drawing for unreserved campsites between seven and two days prior to the date you’d like to start. (See Permit info in the Make It Happen section at the bottom of this story.) When I saw an unusually warm, sunny forecast for the first week of November—not a high-demand time for Zion permits—I grabbed two of the most-coveted wilderness permits in the National Park System through the Last Minute Drawing: backpacking the Narrows top to bottom, and dayhiking Zion’s Subway top to bottom. (Read my story “Luck of the Draw, Part 1: Hiking Zion’s Subway.”)

David and I have both had backpacking Zion’s Narrows in our sights literally for decades. But for various reasons—including the short season and stiff competition for permits for both—it has taken us this long to get to them. Now, thanks to watching the forecast, good timing, flexibility in our schedules, and sheer luck, we are spending three straight November days of temperatures in the 60s knocking off two of the best hikes in America—the Subway and the Narrows—and seeing relatively few people, a situation unheard-of during the peak seasons.

After the Narrows, hike the other nine of my “10 Best Backpacking Trips in the Southwest.”


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.


 

North Fork of the Virgin River above Zion's Narrows. North Fork of the Virgin River above Zion's Narrows. A backpacker in the upper Zion's Narrows. Day one backpacking Zion's Narrows. Day one backpacking Zion's Narrows. Day one backpacking Zion's Narrows. Day one backpacking Zion's Narrows. Day one backpacking Zion's Narrows. Day one backpacking Zion's Narrows. A backpacker on day one in Zion's Narrows. Day one backpacking Zion's Narrows. Day one backpacking Zion's Narrows. A backpacker on day one in Zion's Narrows. Day one backpacking Zion's Narrows. Day one in the upper Narrows, Zion National Park. North Fork Falls, day one backpacking Zion's Narrows. Day one backpacking Zion's Narrows. Day one backpacking Zion's Narrows. A backpacker in Zion's Narrows.

The Narrows Day One

By mid-afternoon, a few hours into the hike, the only evidence of sunshine that we see is where it sets fire to the upper canyon walls, a few hundred feet above us. Down in the canyon’s basement, we walk in the shadows of a premature, extended dusk.

Here in the upper Narrows, several miles above its confluence with Deep Creek, which triples the river’s volume, the North Fork of the Virgin River meanders through adolescence, a skinny but energetic stream—at least during times of low water levels, which is when park officials open the Narrows to hikers. (See the Make It Happen section at the bottom of this story for details about safe river levels for hiking.) We’re still above the true “narrows” stretch of the canyon; pine trees grow sparsely along the river, like thin hair on an old man’s head, and the rims wear a green crown.

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

Black water streaks bleed down blood-red walls smeared with spilled-paint splotches of white rock. At sharp riverbends, where flash floods and high water have done the destructive work of erosion, cliffs crest overhead in petrified waves.

Our canyoneering boots and neoprene socks do not keep our feet warm so much as prevent them from getting painfully cold; I wouldn’t do this hike without them, except perhaps in really hot weather. We’re also carrying dry suits in our packs for the deeper water we’ll encounter later today and tomorrow. Here, we don’t need them yet for water that rarely tops our ankles. (See details on gear at the bottom of this story.)

Eons of geological uplift and the erosional force of the river carving into the Navajo Sandstone created the Narrows. Floods continue that eternal work. The Narrows and many other similarly tight canyons can transform from placid to deadly in a span of minutes—which is why you should avoid them if there’s any chance of rain. A flash flood in 1998 abruptly raised the Virgin River’s volume from 200 to 4,500 CFS (cubic feet per second), acting like a giant, high-speed plow coursing downstream, damaging the park road in Zion Canyon. On Sept. 15, 2015, seven people descending a slot known as Keyhole Canyon were killed in a flash flood in the worst disaster in the history of Zion National Park.

By late afternoon, we reach the beginning of the true “narrows” section. The walls pinch down to 15 to 20 feet apart and shoot up several hundred feet. For the rest of this day, we’ll wade water that comes up to our calves—and briefly higher—through a dark, cool, and church-quiet hallway in solid rock, with only a sliver of sky visible high above us.

We hear the North Fork Falls well before we see it. At 8.5 miles from the trailhead, the river pours thunderously over a 10-foot-tall, boulder-and-log jam. To bypass it, we squeeze through a claustrophobic passage on the south side of the waterfall, between a massive boulder and the canyon wall, and then wade a short distance back upstream to see the waterfall.

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

Day one backpacking Zion's Narrows.
David Gordon on day one backpacking Zion’s Narrows.

Minutes beyond the North Fork Falls, we clamber over a log pinned between the close walls and lower ourselves into the deepest pool of the day. The numbing water rises crotch-deep on me; I wade across it as quickly as I can propel myself forward into shallower water. Around the corner, we reach our home for the night, campsite one, the first of a dozen designated campsites in the Narrows. (This campsite made my top 25 all-time favorite backcountry campsites, and I grouped the 11 other sites in the Narrows together as one on my list of the 15 nicest backcountry campsites I’ve hiked past.)

Our camp sits on a slightly elevated patch of dry ground, on one side of a cavernous opening where a tributary canyon joins the North Fork. Within an hour, by 6 p.m., it’s completely dark. With no moon out yet, stars riddle the Y-shaped slice of sky visible to us above this confluence of two canyons.

After dark, a mouse skitters around our site, obviously accustomed to pilfering food from backpackers. As David sits on a log enjoying the quiet and the stars, he feels the mouse crawling up his pant leg and kicks it off. With the forecast for clear weather, we didn’t bring a tent; we lay our pads and bags on the comfortable bed of soft, dry sand. But a few times during the night, I feel the mouse crawling up the outside of my bag and kick a leg out to send it airborne.

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

Stars above campsite one in Zion's Narrows. Day two backpacking Zion's Narrows. Day two backpacking Zion's Narrows. Day two backpacking Zion's Narrows. Day two backpacking Zion's Narrows. Big Spring on day two backpacking Zion's Narrows. Big Spring on day two backpacking Zion's Narrows. Big Spring on day two backpacking Zion's Narrows. A backpacker in the Wall Street section of Zion's Narrows.

The Narrows Day Two

In the morning, we awaken to a clear sky—what we can see of it, anyway. At the bottom of this deep hole, beneath close walls that dwarf skyscrapers, we remain in deep shadow. A breeze blowing down canyon sharpens the knife-like chill in the air, as the temperature sits in the high 30s Fahrenheit. The forecast had called for lows in the 20s, so we’re lucky on that count. But “lucky” isn’t the word I mutter while tugging my wet, stiff, half-frozen neoprene socks and boots on over my feet and taking my shocking first steps back into the 50-degree river.

Before long, though, the air temperature starts rising and our feet warm up as blood finally seeps back into them—even as we’re constantly crossing the ankle- to calf-deep river. I shed two of the three shirts I’m wearing and my wind shell, and roll the top of my dry suit down to my waist, thinking: It’s November, and I’m hiking in shirtsleeves.

Want to take this trip? Click here now to get my e-guide The Complete Guide to Backpacking Zion’s Narrows.

Low-angle sunlight gradually infiltrates the canyon. Some walls catch indirect light reflecting off other walls, making them appear to glow. At every turn, the cliffs display a different face, a complex mosaic of curves, cracks, columns, pinnacles, and buttresses in a rich geological color palette. Mature trees lend the green of conifers and, at this time of year, the yellow of cottonwood trees.

High above us, the wind blows clouds of dust off ledges, and the sun backlighting the tiny dust particles makes them sparkle as they float earthward. “Pixie dust,” I tell David. Moments later, a gust hurls leaves off the rims hundreds of feet overhead, creating an identical effect, the leaves twinkling in the sunlight as they float downward.

An hour out of camp, below campsite four, we see the first people we’ve encountered since we started hiking from Chamberlain’s Ranch yesterday—two backpackers who remain ahead of us and mostly out of sight.

 

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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Photo Gallery: Hiking and Backpacking Utah’s National Parks https://thebigoutsideblog.com/photo-gallery-hiking-and-backpacking-utahs-national-parks/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/photo-gallery-hiking-and-backpacking-utahs-national-parks/#respond Mon, 30 Jul 2018 09:00:15 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=28672 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

All of America’s 59 national parks possess special qualities and scenery, without a doubt. But southern Utah’s concentration of unique and awe-inspiring landscapes sets its five parks apart from the rest—and they’re each quite different from one another. You should see them all, and a prime season for hiking the Southwest is just around the corner. In this blog post, I’ll share many photos from Arches, Bryce Canyon, Canyonlands, Capitol Reef, and Zion, and tips on the best ways to explore these parks.

For starters, how do the five southern Utah parks differ from one another?

Arches has more than 2,000 natural stone arches, as well as hundreds of soaring pinnacles, giant fins, and balanced rocks. Bryce Canyon holds the world’s greatest number of hoodoos, or bizarrely sculpted pinnacles created by erosion.

 

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A hiker in Partition Arch, Devils Garden, Arches National Park.
Jeff Wilhelm relaxing in Partition Arch, Devils Garden, Arches National Park.

Canyonlands is a vast wonderland of multi-colored cliffs, deep canyons, tall spires, and two major rivers. Capitol Reef’s Waterpocket Fold, a nearly 100-mile-long, jumbled ridge of rock, conceals sandstone domes, natural bridges, beautiful canyons, and bighorn sheep. And Zion, Utah’s first and one of America’s flagship national parks, may be the most varied and magical, from the 2,000-foot cliffs of Zion Canyon (lead photo at top of story) to a backcountry filled with geologic anomalies.

Ready to plan your next hiking, backpacking, or paddling trip to any of these parks?

Start by getting some inspiration and ideas from the gallery below, which contains photos from the numerous trips I’ve taken dayhiking, backpacking, and paddling in Arches, Bryce Canyon, Canyonlands, Capitol Reef, and Zion National Park. Below the photo gallery, find links to the many stories at The Big Outside about these adventures in southern Utah’s national parks, from relatively easy trips ideal for young families (which I took with my family when our kids were young) to very hard-core adventures.

 


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. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip. Click here to get full access to all of my blog’s stories. Follow my adventures on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and Youtube.


 

Angels Landing, Zion National Park. The Great Gallery pictographs, Horseshoe Canyon District, Canyonlands National Park. Taylor Creek Trail, Zion National Park. The Subway, Zion National Park Chesler Park Trail, Needles District, Canyonlands National Park. Big Spring-Squaw Canyons Pass, Needles District, Canyonlands National Park. Navajo Arch, Devils Garden, Arches National Park. Navajo:Queens Garden loop, Bryce Canyon National Park. Near the Frying Pan Trail, Capitol Reef National Park. The Narrows, Zion National Park. Bighorn sheep skull in the backcountry of Capitol Reef National Park. Spring Canyon campsite, Capitol Reef National Park. Stillwater Canyon, Green River, Canyonlands National Park. Backpacking across the Waterpocket Fold, Capitol Reef National Park. Taylor Creek Trail, Zion National Park. Above the Green River, Island in the Sky District, Canyonlands National Park. La Verkin Creek, Kolob Canyons, Zion National Park. A hiker on the Observation Point Trail in Zion National Park.

Looking for beginner- and family-friendly dayhikes and other trips in southern Utah’s parks? Check out my stories about the best dayhikes in Utah’s national parks, my favorite hike in Bryce Canyondayhiking in Arches, and floating the Green River through Canyonlands (one of my family’s best trips ever).

Want to find the best backpacking in the Southwest? See my stories about backpacking Zion’s NarrowsThe Needles District of CanyonlandsSpring Canyon in Capitol Reef, and a traverse across Zion, as well as “The 10 Best Backpacking Trips in the Southwest” and “The 5 Southwest Backpacking Trips You Should Do First.” And definitely read my “10 Tips For Getting a Hard-to-Get National Park Backcountry Permit.”

 

Plan your backpacking trip in Zion’s Narrows or other flagship national parks using my expert e-guides.

 

A backpacker on the Beehive Traverse in Capitol Reef National Park.
David Gordon on the Beehive Traverse in Capitol Reef National Park.

Are you ready for some top-shelf, expert adventures in the Southwest? See my stories about descending Zion’s incomparable Subway, slot canyoneering in Capitol Reef, and one of the most eye-popping backpacking trips I’ve ever taken, a mostly off-trail route along the spine of Capitol Reef’s Waterpocket Fold (photo above).

Like most stories at The Big Outside, most of the feature stories linked here require a paid subscription, which costs just pennies over $4 a month for a full year or as little as 5 bucks for one month. My blog can help you find and plan all of your adventures. Get full value from it. Click here or the blue button below to subscribe now.

 

Get my help planning your backpacking, hiking, or family trip and 25% off a one-year subscription. Click here.

 

See my All National Parks Trips page for a menu of all stories about national parks adventures at The Big Outside.

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.

 

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.

 

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Photo Gallery: 25 Favorite Backcountry Campsites https://thebigoutsideblog.com/photo-gallery-25-favorite-backcountry-campsites/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/photo-gallery-25-favorite-backcountry-campsites/#respond Sun, 07 Jan 2018 10:00:18 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=9119 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Everyone has favorite campsites from unforgettable backcountry trips. I’ve been fortunate to have pitched a tent in many great campsites over nearly three decades of backpacking and trekking all over the U.S. and the world. This photo gallery spotlights several camps from my list of 25 all-time favorite campsites, which I update regularly. Among them are jaw-dropping spots like Death Canyon Shelf along the Teton Crest Trail in Grand Teton National Park, The Narrows in Zion National Park, Camp Schurman on Mount Rainier, Johns Hopkins Inlet in Alaska’s Glacier Bay, a couple of unbelievable spots in the Grand Canyon, and Precipice Lake in Sequoia National Park (photo above).

My 25 favorite campsites are located deep in the wilderness of beloved national parks like Yosemite, Glacier, and Canyonlands, along the John Muir Trail, and some spots you may not have heard of, from the East Fork of the Owyhee River to the Glacier Peak WildernessParia Canyon, and a couple different mind-blowing beaches deep in the canyons of the Green River.

I update my list of favorite backcountry campsites regularly, every time I visit another that deserves a spot on this inspirational roster. The gallery below, in fact, includes a photo from Titcomb Basin in Wyoming’s Wind River Range, where two friends and I spent a night during a 39-mile backpacking trip last September. I’ll write about that trip later this year at The Big Outside.

 

Hi, I’m Michael Lanza, the creator of The Big Outside, recognized as a top outdoors blog by USA Today and others. I invite you to click here to sign up for my FREE email newsletter, or enter your email address in the box in the left sidebar or at the bottom of this story. And follow my adventures on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram.

 

Check out the photos below and see whether you’ve been to some of my favorite campsites—or maybe discover that you want to visit some (or all) of them. Below the gallery, you’ll find a link to my feature story covering all 25 favorite backcountry campsites.

 

Colorado River, Grand Canyon National Park, Arizona. Campsite one in The Narrows, Zion National Park. At a campsite near Royal Arch in the Grand Canyon. Campsite on the East Fork Owyhee River, in eastern Oregon. Campsite at Precipice Lake, Sequoia National Park. Johns Hopkins Inlet, Glacier Bay National Park. Campsite in Titcomb Basin, Wind River Range, Wyoming. Big Spring camp in Paria Canyon in Utah and Arizona. Death Canyon Shelf, Grand Teton National Park, Wyoming. Camp Schurman on Mount Rainier.

See photos of all 25 campsites (plus several that used to be on my list) in my story “Tent Flap With a View: 25 Favorite Backcountry Campsites,” which has links to existing stories about each of those campsites at The Big Outside, and trip-planning information on how to visit each one yourself.

 

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.

 

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

 

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Why Conservation Matters: Rafting the Green River’s Gates of Lodore https://thebigoutsideblog.com/why-conservation-matters-rafting-the-green-rivers-gates-of-lodore/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/why-conservation-matters-rafting-the-green-rivers-gates-of-lodore/#comments Mon, 20 Feb 2017 10:00:06 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=22455 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

The momentarily sedate current of the Green River pulls our flotilla of five rafts and two kayaks toward what looks like a geological impossibility: a gigantic cleft at least a thousand feet deep, where the river appears to have chopped a path right through the Uinta Mountains of northeastern Utah. Sheer, cracked cliffs of burgundy-brown rock frame the gap. Box elder, juniper, and a few cottonwoods grow on broad sand bars backed by tiered walls that seem to reach infinitely upward and backward, eclipsing broad swaths of blue sky. A great blue heron stalks fish by the riverbank. We notice movement on river left and glance over to see two bighorn sheep dash up a rocky canyon wall so steep that none of us can imagine even walking up it.

These are the Gates of Lodore, portal to a canyon as famous today for its scenery and wilderness character as it was infamous for the catastrophes suffered by its first explorers, who set out in wooden boats a century and a half ago to map the West’s greatest river system.

Much has certainly changed since John Wesley Powell’s historic journey through the Canyon of Lodore. But thanks to conservation struggles in the past—decades before the teenagers among us were born—much about the canyons incised deeply into the ancient layers of rock here in Dinosaur National Monument remains the same as Powell saw.

Rafting through Whirlpool Canyon in Dinosaur National Monument.
Whirlpool Canyon in Dinosaur National Monument.

And yet, we live in a time when the lessons of history seem in danger of drowning in muddy political waters where facts are described as “alternative” and truths are reshaped to suit the agendas of the powerful. The story of how these canyons narrowly avoided concrete walls that would have transformed rivers into reservoirs feels like an intensely relevant one to impart to another generation.

Our party of 30—friends and family ranging in age from 12 to their sixties, including seven kids and five guides with Holiday River Expeditions—has launched on one of the West’s classic, multi-day, wilderness river trips: floating the Green River through Dinosaur National Monument, on the Utah-Colorado border. Covering 44 river miles in four days, we’ll run a handful of class III and IV rapids, three of which Powell gave ominous names: Disaster Falls, Triplet Falls, and Hells Half Mile. We’ll also dayhike to see prehistoric pictographs, stand beneath icy waterfalls, and spot more bighorn sheep than any of us has ever seen on one trip.

As we float toward Upper and Lower Disaster Falls that first afternoon in Lodore, I suspect some of us are thinking about Powell’s account of his party’s encounter with these rapids—where they lost a boat.

On June 9, 1869, Powell wrote: “I see the boat strike a rock, careen and fill with water. The men lose their oars; she strikes another rock with great force, is broken in two, and the men are thrown into the river.” Three days later, he wrote: “As Ashley and his party were wrecked here, and as we have lost one of our boats, we adopt the name Disaster Falls for the scene of so much peril and loss.”


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Joe Lovelace kayaking Upper Disaster Falls, Lodore Canyon.
Joe Lovelace kayaking Upper Disaster Falls, Lodore Canyon.

But we see a different Green River today than Powell did, its flow now harnessed by the Flaming Gorge Dam, almost 50 river miles upstream from the Gates of Lodore. While the difficulty of the rapids varies with seasonal fluctuations in water level, the Green River no longer courses through the canyon of mystery that Powell explored. And our guides have scores of descents of this river between them.

One by one, each boat drops into the growling throat of the class III rapid, squeezing safely through a tight pinch between two boulders and avoiding an intimidating “hole” where recirculating water could flip a fully loaded raft. I watch my 15-year-old son, Nate, his expression serious and focused as he paddles his kayak flawlessly through the trip’s first big rapid. In another raft, my 13-year-old daughter, Alex, and two of her best friends scream more with delight than fear through their 30 seconds of thrill in Disaster Falls. Powell’s team never knew how much fun this could be.

By early evening, we stop to camp on a sprawling, sandy beach at Pot Creek. Across the river, a sheer cliff the color of dried blood rises hundreds of feet. One of the parents in our group, Amy Steckel, tells me, “This is probably the nicest campsite I’ve ever seen.”

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Sounds of Silence Trail, Dinosaur National Monument. Marco above the Sounds of Silence Trail. The Gates of Lodore. The Gates of Lodore. Day one, Lodore Canyon. Nate in Upper Disaster Falls. Joe in Upper Disaster Falls.

Hells Half Mile

We stand on ledges above a chaotic train wreck of boulders and thunderous whitewater, the rapid that Powell named Hells Half Mile. We’ve arrived to scout it in time to watch a private party of rafts run it—conveniently serving as our guinea pigs. As they drop in one at a time, one raft gets pinned atop a boulder near the bottom of the rapids. After at least 20 minutes of failed attempts to rock the boat free, someone from one of the group’s other rafts throws a rope out from the far riverbank and they pull the raft free.

It’s early on our second afternoon, another sunny and hot July day. Wind blows up the canyon, although not as strongly as yesterday afternoon. We’ve already run the rapids called Harp Falls—so low we didn’t have to scout it—and Triplet Falls, where we spent close to an hour scouting. As the name implies, it consists of three sections of rapids, the last of them the trickiest, a slot not much wider than a raft, where the current could pin a boat against a rock the size of a school bus. But every boat ran it without a hiccup.

Our guides point at different spots in the melee of churning liquid, strategizing how to navigate through Hells Half Mile. Lead guide Dave Snee, an experienced river rat in his thirties, whose long hair and hipster mien belies the seriousness he brings to his job, stands with three guides in their twenties, Larkin Jameson, Erika Bash, and Trevor Fredrickson. Nearby, our fifth raft oarsman, Larry Huie, who introduces himself as “Sherpa,” doesn’t look the age he confesses to: 66. Sherpa began his river guiding career here in 1976—about a quarter-century before these kids in our party were born.

They concur on taking the rafts down the gullet of Hell, a narrow tongue of green water flanked by white foam and big, scary-looking rocks. We’ll have to avoid a couple of large, recirculating holes about halfway down, and below them, skirt right of a massive boulder mid-river. To most of us, it looks daunting. Nate and other group’s other kayaker, Joe Lovelace, a Middlebury College student, decide they will swing right of the first two holes, punch down the middle, and then Joe will peel right into the final hole “just to see what it’s like,” while Nate will take a slightly tamer line to the left.

Dave and Trevor run their rafts first, as the rest of us watch from the ledges. They make it look almost easy. Then we all return to our boats to follow. Nate and Joe nail the line they intended. Joe tells me afterward that Nate “went exactly where we planned to go.”

Marco Garofalo meets a bighorn sheep in Lodore Canyon.
Marco Garofalo meets a bighorn sheep in Lodore Canyon.

Later, drifting lazily in calmer water, we let the boats spin us through panoramas of soaring, multi-colored cliffs. While Disaster and Hells—as well as Harp and Triplet in higher water—do occasionally even flip or pin rafts that have a guide at the helm, much of this trip is a slow, gentle float, staring up at rock layers older than the dinosaurs whose abundant fossils spurred the creation of this national monument. (We saw the roughly 1,500 fossils at the monument’s Quarry Exhibit Hall the day before launching on the Green—a must-see stop in Dinosaur. See link at bottom of story.)

Though certainly not nearly as deep, vast, or geologically significant, Lodore Canyon has something of a Grand Canyon quality to it, with long stretches of easy water between rapids, and the walls rising higher as we float down canyon. And we’re seeing much more wildlife than I’ve ever seen in the Grand Canyon.

We float past a couple of mule deer with two fawns in tow, and a while later, two bighorn sheep rams, with their thick, curved horns, grazing at the riverbank—among the five bighorn we spot today alone. “I’ve never seen so many bighorn sheep in one day,” my wife, Penny, says. Her 23-year-old niece, Natalie Beach, says, “I’ve never seen a bighorn sheep!”

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Lodore Canyon. Pot Creek camp, Lodore Canyon. Pot Creek camp, Lodore Canyon. Pot Creek camp, Lodore Canyon. Pot Creek camp, Lodore Canyon. Day two, Lodore Canyon. Deer in Lodore Canyon. Joe and Nate scouting Triplet Falls. Triplet Falls, Lodore Canyon. Triplet Falls, Lodore Canyon.

The Dam That Almost Drowned Echo Park

Our boats glide slowly past the base of Steamship Rock, a sheer, golden wall, streaked with black water stains, rising for hundreds of feet straight up out of the water. Across the canyon, about a half-mile away, more water-streaked cliffs and buttes stand like a city of petrified skyscrapers. Between these walls, the Yampa River slides lazily into the Green, the confluence so still that the tan waters display a mirror-sharp reflection of the canyon walls.

On our third morning, we’ve entered Echo Park, a breathtaking spot where the Green exits Lodore Canyon and enters Whirlpool Canyon—a junction of rivers that came perilously close to disappearing.

When in a place named Echo Park, there is one thing you must do.

Sitting in Larkin’s raft, my 18-year-old nephew, Marco Garofalo, who flew out from Massachusetts for this trip, 13-year-old Ava Steckel, whose family has joined us from Boise, and I take turns yelling into the still, warm air. Each time, after a delay of several seconds, our words bounce back to us as crisply as we spoke them.

Echo Park in Whirlpool Canyon, Dinosaur National Monument.
Echo Park in Whirlpool Canyon, Dinosaur National Monument.

Echo Park came perilously close to being submerged under a reservoir—and the decision to do that would have been made by people 2,000 miles away, most of whom had never seen it. It isn’t a reservoir because of a conservation battle now recognized as one of the great victories in the movement’s history—and a victory for all Americans.

In the 1950s, the proposed Colorado River Storage Project would have erected two dams in Dinosaur National Monument: a wall 500 feet tall at Echo Park, a short distance downstream from this confluence, which would have backed up both the Green and Yampa rivers for miles, beyond the monument’s boundaries; and a second dam at Split Mountain, where our trip will end tomorrow. The project would have completely inundated these magnificent canyons—submerging the rapids in these canyons, the rich habitat for bighorn sheep and other wildlife, and invaluable archeological sites of human history. Led by the Sierra Club’s first executive director, David Brower, a coalition of conservation groups fought the proposal, rallying enough public opposition to persuade Congress to remove the dams in Dinosaur from the project.

Had their efforts failed—or if no one had even attempted to fight those dams—my family and our friends would not be floating down this remarkable canyon today. These canyons are the compelling evidence of the wisdom in protecting pristine rivers, mountains, and other areas in nature forever, rather than destroying them for short-term economic gain.

That victory may be decades old, but the work of conservation seems never done. Today, in fact, it once again looms as important as ever.

Hells Half Mile, Lodore Canyon. Hells Half Mile, Lodore Canyon. Bighorn sheep in Lodore Canyon. Day two in Lodore Canyon. Day two in Lodore Canyon. Rippling Brook waterfall, Lodore Canyon. Lodore Canyon. Lodore Canyon. Wild Mountain campsite, Lodore Canyon. View from Wild Mountain campsite.

‘Any Fool Can Destroy Trees’

Some members of Congress, state legislators, and county elected officials in the West are lately rolling out proposals to “take back” federal public lands into state ownership. This is mostly a partisan con job: These elected officials are consistently Republicans with financial support from mining, oil and gas, and other extractive industries. They make the historically incorrect and deceitful claim that the states once owned or controlled federal lands within their borders.

They also hustle the false promise that state governments can manage these lands better than the federal government does now. It’s a brazen lie. Most state budgets would plunge into the red just trying to pay for the first major wildfire. The result of any state takeover of federal lands—as many advocates for it have acknowledged—would be states selling off those lands to private interests, who would maximize their profits by cutting off public access and exploiting the lands for natural resources.

This is a political shell game with the highest consequences: At stake is public access to lands that we, as citizens, have always owned. The federal government controls 640 million acres of public land that we all use for rafting, kayaking, hiking, backpacking, climbing, fishing, hunting, skiing, camping, horseback riding. Those lands support an outdoor industry that pumps $646 billion into the U.S. economy—more than the auto industry.

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The U.S. Forest Service, which manages 191 million acres of public lands, was created expressly to protect our forests from rapacious exploitation by the logging and mining industries in the late-19th century. Supporters of today’s movement for state takeover of federal lands in the West are just the latest in a long line of shameless charlatans.

In an 1897 article in the Atlantic Monthly, John Muir wrote: “Any fool can destroy trees. They cannot run away; and if they could, they would still be destroyed—chased and hunted down as long as fun or a dollar could be got out of their bark hides… God has cared for these trees, saved them… but he cannot save them from fools—only Uncle Sam can do that.”

Guide/Outfitter Holiday River Expeditions, BikeRaft.com. See the monument’s website (below) for a complete list of outfitters.

Contact Dinosaur National Monument, nps.gov/dino.

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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3-Minute Read: Rafting Through Dinosaur National Monument https://thebigoutsideblog.com/3-minute-read-rafting-through-dinosaur-national-monument/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/3-minute-read-rafting-through-dinosaur-national-monument/#respond Sun, 16 Oct 2016 10:00:55 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=20753 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

Our flotilla of five rafts and two kayaks drifted lazily toward what looked like a geological impossibility: a gigantic cleft a thousand feet deep where the river appeared to have chopped a path right through the Uinta Mountains of northeastern Utah. Cracked cliffs of burgundy-brown rock framed the gap. Called the Gates of Lodore, its’ a canyon as famous today for its scenery and whitewater as it was once infamous for the crises that befell its first party of explorers, led by a one-armed Civil War veteran, who set out in wooden boats a century and a half ago to map the West’s greatest river system.

Rafting Lodore Canyon on the Green River in Dinosaur National Monument.
Rafting Lodore Canyon on the Green River in Dinosaur National Monument.

In July, joined by 21 friends and relatives, my family took a guided, four-day, 44-mile rafting trip on the Green River through Dinosaur National Monument, on the Utah-Colorado border. Our five guides from Holiday River Expeditions led us safely through challenging rapids, including Disaster Falls—where that exploration party, led by John Wesley Powell, suffered the loss of one of their wooden boats, splintered to pieces on rocks—Triplet Falls, and Hells Half Mile, all named by Powell.

We pitched our tents each night on sandy beaches below soaring canyon walls and a night sky riddled with stars—some of the prettiest campsites I’ve ever experienced. We hiked up side canyons to view prehistoric pictographs and stand beneath icy waterfalls. We saw at least 10 bighorn sheep—more than perhaps any of us had seen on one trip, ever.

I’ll post a feature story about this trip, with many more photos and a video, later. Meanwhile, for information about a guided trip next year, contact Holiday River Expeditions, bikeraft.com.

And see all of my stories about trips in Utah parkspaddling, family adventures, and national park adventures at The Big Outside.

 


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. Click here to learn how I can help you plan your next trip. Please follow my adventures on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and Youtube.


 

Marco Garofalo and a bighorn sheep in Lodore Canyon.
Marco Garofalo and a bighorn sheep in Lodore Canyon, Dinosaur National Monument.

 

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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.

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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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Happy Holidays From The Big Outside https://thebigoutsideblog.com/happy-holidays-from-the-big-outside-2/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/happy-holidays-from-the-big-outside-2/#respond Sat, 26 Dec 2015 13:20:59 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=16882
On the Navajo Loop-Queens Garden Loop in Bryce Canyon National Park.
On the Navajo Loop-Queens Garden Loop in Bryce Canyon National Park.

Wishing you a happy holiday season with a view along the Navajo Loop-Queens Garden Loop, my favorite hike in Bryce Canyon National Park. Planning some adventures for next year? Find ideas at my All Trips page.

—Michael Lanza

 

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Ask Me: Can You Recommend Rafting Outfitters and Trips? https://thebigoutsideblog.com/ask-me-can-you-recommend-rafting-outfitters-and-trips/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/ask-me-can-you-recommend-rafting-outfitters-and-trips/#comments Thu, 03 Dec 2015 11:00:13 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=11737 Read on

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Hi Michael,

I just found your blog today after starting my research for a summer guided rafting tour for families. In my next life I’d like to come back as one of your offspring! My husband would like to take our eager son on a guided, overnight rafting trip this summer to celebrate his 10th birthday: father-son trip, but someone else does the heavy lifting so dad and son can focus on enjoyment of the river, campfires and overall one-on-one time. We live in the Bay Area but our son is keen to travel for this trip—Idaho, Utah, Oregon, or Colorado, to name a few suggestions. Can you point us toward some well-regarded guiding companies and provide any insight to consider when we comparison shop?

Kind regards,
Catherine
Lafayette, CA

Hi Catherine,

There are a huge number of guided rafting outfitters and trips out there. I have not done any kind of comprehensive review of them all to know the best, but I do know of some good, reputable, well-established operators who offer reasonably priced trips. You may have already found my stories about our family rafting trips on Idaho’s world-class Middle Fork of the Salmon River (lead photo, above, and photo below), which we took with  Middle Fork Rapid Transit, and Oregon’s Grand Ronde River—a really fun and relatively shorter trip (usually three days) that we did unguided.

 

Cliffside Rapid, Middle Fork Salmon River, Idaho.
Cliffside Rapid, Middle Fork Salmon River, Idaho.

Utah’s Green River has several sections that are floated on easy water, including Stillwater Canyon in Canyonlands National Park—which is technically very easy, no whitewater, but gorgeous.

Many of the trips I focus on are somewhat longer, multi-day trips (five to six days), but there are guides who lead one- and two-day trips on sections of the Snake River below Grand Teton National Park, for instance, and on sections of Idaho’s Salmon River.

 

 

Floating the Green River through Stillwater Canyon in Canyonlands National Park, Utah.
Floating the Green River through Stillwater Canyon in Canyonlands National Park, Utah.

Two other guide companies I know enough about to recommend, and which have trips on numerous Western rivers, are O.A.R.S., where I’ve known guides; and Holiday River Expeditions, with whom my family is planning to take a four-day rafting trip through the Gates of Lodore section of the Green River in Dinosaur National Monument, on the Utah-Colorado border, next summer. That popular stretch is known for its challenging rapids and amazing canyon country.

Exclusive for The Big Outside readers: Take 15% off any purchase at Outdoorplay.com using code Big15. Some restrictions apply.

I’ll tell you a few trips that are on my to-do list:

The Owyhee River in southwest Idaho and eastern Oregon; I’ve kayaked the upper Owyhee, which is too small to raft, but the main Owyhee River is regularly guided, very wild and pretty with lots of rapids, and not as popular as rivers like the Salmon and Green.

The Tuolumne River east of Yosemite National Park is considered one of the best overnight whitewater rafting trips in the world for its numerous class IV rapids, excellent campsites, and scenery in a federally designated wild and scenic canyon. Check out c-w-r.com/rivers/tuolumne-river.html.

The Grand Canyon, of course, is the granddaddy of long, wilderness, whitewater trips, and it happens to take place within one of the scenic wonders of the world. The park’s website lists outfitters that offer trips ranging from three to 18 days in the canyon.

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♦

There are many more that you will find through online searches. I would simply look for an established outfitter that has been in business for many years, especially on the river you want to raft, and talk to them about safety protocols, your husband’s and son’s experience level, and their guide-client ratio. Reading their websites will provide you will good insights about how they operate and whether you just like their approach.

I think your husband and son will love any trip they take and be inspired to do more together, so I would suggest they pick a trip they have time to do and that they think will be exciting but not intimidating for them.

Good luck, thanks for writing and following The Big Outside.

Best,
Michael

Hi Michael,

Thanks so much for taking the time to send me a reply with the information! We are on it. Take care and happy summer.

Catherine

In Ask Me, I share and respond to a reader question. Got a question about hiking, backpacking, gear, or any topic or trip I write about at The Big Outside? Send it to me at mlanza@thebigoutside.com, message me at facebook.com/TheBigOutside, or tweet it to @MichaelALanza. I will answer the ones I can in a post, using only your first name and city, with your permission. I now receive more questions than I can answer, so I ask that readers sending me a question be willing to make a $25 donation to this website through my Support button (top left of sidebar or above), for the time and expertise I put into a response. I will also provide a telephone consult for a $45 donation. Write to me first and I will tell you whether I can answer your question (I usually can); I will respond as quickly as I can. First scroll through my Ask Me page and All Trips pagesskills stories, and gear reviews for answers to your questions before writing to me.

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Luck of the Draw, Part 1: Hiking Zion’s Subway https://thebigoutsideblog.com/luck-of-the-draw-part-1-hiking-zions-subway/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/luck-of-the-draw-part-1-hiking-zions-subway/#respond Mon, 26 Oct 2015 10:00:10 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=15437 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

In the refrigerator-like shade at the bottom of a fissure hundreds of feet deep, somewhere in the labyrinth of sandstone canyons that dice up the backcountry of Zion National Park, our keyhole-shaped passageway narrows to the width of a doorway. A shallow, ice-water creek pumps along this slot canyon’s floor, which drops off before us about four feet into a pool extending some 30 feet ahead of us. We’ve been informed the water temperature is around 51° F. And it looks deep.

We’re going for a chilly swim.

But we came prepared for it. My friend David Gordon and I pull dry suits from our packs and slip into them, tugging the heavy zipper tightly closed and sealing the suit’s snug gaskets around our necks, wrists, and ankles. Then I relax and watch as David, my willing and able guinea pig, hoists his pack overhead and slides over the edge into the pool.

David Gordon in The Subway, Zion National Park.
David Gordon in The Subway, Zion National Park.

David and I are a few hours into a one-day, top-to-bottom descent of The Subway, more properly identified as the Left Fork of North Creek. A well-known, technical slot canyon in Utah’s Zion National Park, The Subway takes its name from its most-photographed corner, a bend where floodwaters have bored an oval passage that, you guessed it, resembles the most strikingly colorful subway tunnel you will ever see (lead photo at top of story).

Ironically, David and I are here out of sheer luck blended with a bit of good timing.

Because of this route’s popularity, and the park’s twin objectives of protecting the canyon from overuse and protecting a wilderness experience for visitors, Zion limits the number of permits issued each day for The Subway to 80—and they’re hard to get via the park’s lottery system. (See Permit info in the Make It Happen section at the bottom of this story and my story “10 Tips For Getting a Hard-to-Get National Park Backcountry Permit.”)

That quota includes last-minute Subway permits, which you can obtain between seven and two days in advance. David and I saw a forecast for unusually warm, sunny weather in early November, and we both had time to take a short trip. So I rolled the dice and put in for a last-minute permit to dayhike The Subway top to bottom—and scored one. Then I hit the jackpot a second time, drawing an equally hard-to-get permit just days in advance for a two-day, top-to-bottom hike down Zion’s world-famous Narrows. (See my story “Luck of the Draw, Part 2: Backpacking Zion’s Narrows.”)

Because we had the flexibility to make last-minute plans during a good weather window in November, David and I were on our way to tick off two of the most coveted national park hikes in America.


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I’m not normally one to seek out the most popular outdoor adventures. Although I enjoy the company of my family or good friends in the outdoors (and making new friends), like many wilderness lovers, I don’t love seeing hordes of other people out there. For me, solitude magnifies the emotional power of wild places. In my opinion, any outdoor experience becomes entirely transformed by crowds of people—it becomes diminished.

In both The Subway and The Narrows, David and I will definitely feel our perception of each place downshift abruptly as soon as we reach at the point in the lower canyon of each where we merge into the flow of dayhikers coming up from the bottom (more so in The Narrows, where bottom-up dayhikers are not controlled by a permit system, as in The Subway).

But we will also discover an unexpected degree of solitude during most of our time in The Subway and The Narrows. Despite their fame and the hype surrounding them, both hikes eclipse all expectations.

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Start of The Subway route in Zion. Hiking to The Subway. Hiking to The Subway. Entrance to The Subway. In the Left Fork of North Creek, AKA The Subway. David in The Subway. First rappel in The Subway. David in The Subway. First swim in The Subway. Hiking The Subway. Hiking The Subway. Second rappel in The Subway. A hiker in The Subway, Zion National Park.

The Left Fork of North Creek

The warm sunshine and made-to-order breeze didn’t feel like the first week of November as we set out on the sandy Wildcat Canyon Trail this morning. Mesas and cliffs of chalk-white sandstone capped by green wigs of forest gleamed in the distance. Within 30 minutes, we turned off the Northgate Peaks Trail at a sign marking The Subway route.

We followed occasional cairns across sharply angled slickrock and descended steeply into Russell Gulch. Crossing its sandy bottom, we picked up a faint trail climbing onto a ridge and walked to its end. There, it looked like we’d hit a dead end of sheer cliffs falling away beneath us—until we discovered a very steep gully splitting the cliff like a bombed-out elevator shaft. We scrambled carefully down that chimney of loose rocks and found ourselves standing in the Left Fork of North Creek.

Embraced by the startling quiet, we walked down a canyon spanning 50 to 100 feet or wider across, where trees dwell mostly in the shade of walls hundreds of feet tall. We clambered cautiously over great boulders piled up in the canyon bottom, imagining the noise and destruction created when they cleaved from the cliffs overhead. When a loud party of five approached from behind us, we stopped to eat and let them get ahead of us; we didn’t move on until the last echoes of their boisterous conversation had faded away. For the next two hours, through the heart of The Subway, we would see no one else.

Walking past a tree deposited by flash flood waters in The Subway, Zion National Park.
Walking past a tree deposited by flash flood waters in The Subway, Zion National Park.

The Left Fork of North Creek carves a deep canyon between the monolith called the North Guardian Angel and Guardian Angel Pass, roughly between Zion National Park’s Kolob Canyons area to the northwest and Zion Canyon to the southeast. Most of this 9.5-mile hike—which starts and ends at trailheads more than seven miles apart on the gravel Kolob Terrace Road—involves navigating a desert-topography smorgasbord of slickrock, sandy or rocky gullies, and the broad, open lower canyon of the Left Fork.

All of that’s incredibly scenic. But The Subway has risen to the level of iconic hike because of a segment comprising just a fraction of these 9.5 miles: a roughly one-mile section of the Left Fork’s twisting canyon with wildly sculpted, kaleidoscopic walls. In some parts of it, the canyon expands to broader than a soccer pitch; in others, it narrows to a slot barely more than shoulder-width across. Descending this stretch of the Left Fork demands a time commitment—a couple of hours or more—disproportionate to its modest distance. That’s because it requires scrambling over and around boulders and up and down steep, often wet slabs, frequently walking through shallow water, occasionally swimming deep pools, and rigging three rappels (the longest of them 30 feet).

Plus, it’s so damn amazing that you may just spin around in awe. And that takes time, too.

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Wading a pool in The Subway. In The Subway. Near the last rappel in The Subway. Exiting the last narrows in The Subway. Exiting the last narrows in The Subway. Lower Left Fork of North Creek Canyon. Lower Left Fork of North Creek Canyon. Lower Left Fork of North Creek Canyon. In The Subway.

The Three Pools

Now, as we’re putting on our dry suits at the first pool we have to swim, a thought hits me and I say it aloud: “That group ahead of us didn’t bring dry suits. We would have caught up to them while they were putting them on.” David just shakes his head, both of us contemplating how cold they’ll get swimming a succession of frigid pools, then hiking, soaked, through this shaded canyon’s cool air. (We’ll later hear from another hiker who ran into them that, in fact, they did not have dry suits and had described the pools and The Subway in general as “miserable.” If you descend The Subway top to bottom, bring a dry suit. See Concerns in Make It Happen section below.)

After David swims across the pool, I follow, pushing my floating dry pack ahead of me, feeling the water’s bracing chill through my dry suit.

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We soon encounter a second pool that we have to swim, and then a slot where the water rises to chest-deep. The canyon widens again briefly, as if taking a deep breath before narrowing again. Trees blaze with yellow leaves—one more benefit of our late-autumn timing. At yet another tight constriction, we make a second rappel of only eight feet over Keystone Falls, easing down into a pool that our route description says is often waist-deep, but today, in low-water conditions, is just ankle-deep.

 

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No Straight Lines: Backpacking and Hiking in Canyonlands and Arches National Parks https://thebigoutsideblog.com/no-straight-lines-backpacking-and-hiking-in-canyonlands-and-arches-national-parks/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/no-straight-lines-backpacking-and-hiking-in-canyonlands-and-arches-national-parks/#comments Mon, 06 Apr 2015 11:00:48 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=11846 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

We follow a zigzagging line of stone cairns over waves of slickrock in the backcountry of the Needles District of Utah’s Canyonlands National Park. Cliffs and 300-foot-tall sandstone candlesticks tower around us, in more shades of red than Crayola has yet replicated, glowing in the warm afternoon sunshine of late March. Five adults and four kids from three families, we traverse slabs, scramble in single file up the smooth, dry bottom of a narrow water runnel, and pump out calf muscles walking straight up steep ramps. In the desert Southwest, trails haven’t learned the axiom of Euclidian geometry that the shortest distance between two points is a straight line. We’re navigating a maze without walls.

Above us, a long, sandstone ridge forms a 200-foot-tall wall, mostly of sheer cliffs, separating Big Spring Canyon from Squaw Canyon. Just below a saddle in that ridge, we use hands and the balls of feet to smear delicately up a short but steeper slab, where a slip could result in a cheese-grater slide and tumble back down to the bottom.

Out of habit and instinctive parental concern, I offer to carry any kid’s backpack up the slab. But they all basically shrug off my offer—while, I can’t help but notice, being kind enough not to openly laugh it off. To them, three 13-year-olds and an 11-year-old, this minor challenge represents a welcome flash of excitement—a mild adrenalin pulse they will remember as one of today’s highlights, not something to worry over. Then each of them scrabbles expertly up it.


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In the slickrock pass between the canyons, we drop our packs for a break and to enjoy a view that would make Dr. Seuss smile. Stratified cliffs stretch out in three directions. Stone towers, with bulbous crowns bigger around than the column on which they sit, seem ever at the verge of toppling over: On top of flouting generally accepted rules of geometry, this Alice’s wonderland ignores the laws of physics. I’m not sure that’s good for backpackers tromping through here who are used to their environment simply behaving the way it’s supposed to behave.

After the snacks have been consumed and the pictures taken, we shoulder packs again and the four kids lead the way down into Squaw Canyon, amused by the continually circuitous route of cairns through a place where you can see for miles and still not be able to see exactly where you’re going.

Big Spring Canyon, Needles District, Canyonlands National Park. Big Spring Canyon. Big Spring Canyon, Needles District. Sofi, Alex, Lili in Big Spring Canyon. Big Spring Canyon, Needles District. Big Spring Canyon, Needles District. Big Spring Canyon, Needles District Big Spring Canyon, Needles District Big Spring Canyon, Needles District Big Spring Canyon, Needles District Big Spring-Squaw Pass, Needles District. Big Spring-Squaw Pass. Big Spring-Squaw Pass. Big Spring-Squaw Pass. Big Spring-Squaw Pass.

The Needles District of Canyonlands

I’ve come to southeastern Utah with my son, Nate, and daughter, Alex, and our friends and frequent adventure partners the Serios (Vince, Cat, and daughters Sofi and Lili) and Jeff Wilhelm and his 21-year-old daughter, Jasmine. We’ve planned a spring-break week of backpacking and dayhiking to explore the Needles District of Canyonlands and Arches National Park. First up is this overnight, short, easy hike up Big Spring Canyon and down Squaw Canyon, followed by a dayhike to the incomparable Chesler Park area of The Needles (lead photo at top of story). Then we’ll base camp at a rented condo in Moab for a few dayhikes in Arches.

The Needles District and Arches harbor the kind of geological oddities that fascinate both kids and adults. I’ve walked in the past to almost every spot we’ll visit this week. But by returning with my kids, I can relive vicariously, through them, that magical experience of seeing all of this for the first time.

One of the four geographically distinct areas of Canyonlands National Park, the Needles District covers the high plateau and canyons south and east of the Colorado River and south of Moab. The Colorado and Green rivers subdivide the park’s districts—the other three being the Island in the Sky, The Maze, and Horseshoe Canyon. And the rivers themselves provide a platform for water-based adventures like the classic, multi-day float trip on the Green through Stillwater Canyon, and one-day or half-day, beginner-friendly canoe trips on the Colorado, supported by Moab-based outfitters that will rent you the canoe and water gear and pick you up by jetboat in the afternoon.

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Squaw Canyon, Needles District Squaw Canyon, Needles District Squaw Canyon, Needles District Campsite, Squaw Canyon. Squaw Canyon, Needles District Squaw Canyon, Needles District Squaw Canyon, Needles District Lost Canyon Trail, Needles District The pass into Lost Canyon, Needles District. Peekaboo Trail, Needles District Peekaboo Trail, Needles District Peekaboo Trail, Needles District Peekaboo Trail, Needles District Peekaboo Trail, Needles District Peekaboo Trail, Needles District

With its trail network and backcountry campsites, the Needles is the district of Canyonlands most conducive to backpacking—although you’re limited in how far you can hike by the scarcity of water, forcing you to carry a lot of it. From our route’s last reliable water in Big Spring Canyon, we’re hauling all we’ll need for nine people for the rest of our first day through our second day.

While that can make it challenging to backpack with kids who can’t yet carry their share of gear and food weight, it just requires recalibrating your sense of how far your family can hike and how many days you backpack.

After the Needles District, hike the other nine of “The 10 Best Backpacking Trips in the Southwest.”

 

Erosional forces working over unfathomable gulfs of time formed this arid and tortured landscape; but it looks more like the work of giant children squeezing mud from their fists. The desert Southwest has a way of defying comprehension, even among people who’ve come to know it well. I can only imagine what it looks like to the eyes of these kids, since it wasn’t until adulthood that I first gazed in awe and disbelief on this region.

A mile down Squaw Canyon from the pass, we reach our designated campsite near the junction with the Lost Canyon Trail. Tomorrow, Jeff, Jasmine and I will explore the geological abstractions of Lost Canyon, along with the Peekaboo Trail, while the others take the direct route down Squaw Canyon back to our cars.

Tents go up, cook stoves come out. Night falls early in March, gifting us with one of the darkest and most star-riddled skies in the country.

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Chesler Park Trail, Needles District Chesler Park Trail, Needles District Chesler Park Trail, Needles District Chesler Park Trail, Needles District Chesler Park Trail, Needles District Chesler Park Trail, Needles District Chesler Park Trail, Needles District Chesler Park Trail, Needles District Chesler Park Trail, Needles District Chesler Park. Chesler Park. Chesler Park.

Chesler Park

Hiking to Chesler Park has the quality of approaching the Emerald City in the land of Oz: Chesler’s outsized, multi-colored towers of Cedar Mesa sandstone form a castle-like rampart on the horizon, looming ever larger as you near it. The day after finishing our overnight backpacking trip, we’re dayhiking some 11 miles out-and-back to Chesler. As our party spreads out on the trail, Nate and I hike together, scrambling atop smaller rock formations along the trail and passing between two close sandstone walls that form a narrow corridor.

The long, morning shadow of 300-foot-tall pinnacles falls over us as we walk up one of the Chesler Park Trail’s few steep sections. At a break in the row of pinnacles, we stroll through a sort of natural doorway into Chesler Park. It’s pretty much as I remember it from a backpacking trip here many years ago: a horseshoe of sandstone spires arcing around a patch of desert about a mile across. We walk to a couple of ledges overlooking Chesler and the badlands outside its walls, where white-capped mushrooms of stone sprout from the earth and yet more burnt-red spires rise in the distance.

I try to persuade the kids to hike a couple miles farther, to the other side of Chesler Park, where the Joint Trail passes through a very narrow, sheer-walled slot in solid rock that I know will delight them. But today, I get no takers. The sun’s hot, our hike will cover about 11 miles without going out to the Joint Trail—and the kids know we’re headed from here to a condo, our first showers in a few days, and real food and ice cream. So I surrender to a wave of momentum that I can’t stop, and we turn around to hike back out.

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Nate, Double Arch, Windows Section, Arches. Double Arch, Windows Section. Turret Arch, Windows Section. Nate, South Window, Windows Section. Turret Arch. Turret Arch. Tunnel Arch, Devils Garden, Arches. Nate, Alex, Sofi in Devils Garden. Pine Tree Arch, Devils Garden Pine Tree Arch, Devils Garden. Jasmine hiking in Devils Garden. Landscape Arch, Devils Garden. Hikers in Devils Garden

Arches National Park

About a mile-and-a-half out the Devils Garden Trail in Arches National Park, just past Landscape Arch—the park’s largest, spanning 306 feet—the trail appears to terminate abruptly. But it doesn’t, a fact made obvious by the hikers ahead of us on this popular trail, leaning forward into a steep, narrow, stone ramp ascending between cliffs. We follow the traffic toward some of the more remote arches in the park’s Devils Garden area, Navajo and Partition.

Within the first hour of hiking into Devils Garden, we had already visited Landscape as well as Tunnel Arch and Pine Tree Arch. Later, two of us will take the half-mile walk out to Skyline Arch. Yesterday, we spent a couple of leisurely hours walking around the park’s Windows Section, ogling and scrambling around a veritable riot of sandstone bridges that boggle the mind: the twin North and South Windows, Turret Arch, and Double Arch, all within a short walk of one another.

Several years ago, when these kids were too young to remember much of their first visit to Arches, we hiked them down the flat, mile-long Park Avenue trail, below signature formations of Arches National Park like the Three Gossips and the Courthouse Towers. We also took them on the 20-minute walk around Balanced Rock, a sight so improbable to them that the term “balanced rock” embedded itself in my children’s vocabulary, as a term referring to any random assemblage of rocks, however tiny or ephemeral, that appeared top-heavy.

 

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Mid-Life Crisis: Hiking 50 Miles Across Zion In a Day https://thebigoutsideblog.com/mid-life-crisis-hiking-across-zion-national-park-in-a-day/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/mid-life-crisis-hiking-across-zion-national-park-in-a-day/#comments Fri, 15 Jul 2011 11:15:45 +0000 http://thebigoutside.net/?p=1116 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

La Verkin Creek, swollen and bellowing with spring snowmelt, charges past us like a stampeding herd of bison—with a force and noise level that can make a reasonable person question the wisdom of stepping into its path. Deep in the Kolob Canyons in the northwest corner of Utah’s Zion National Park, it’s tearing enough dirt from its banks to turn the water muddy brown, making it impossible for us to gauge its depth. The pitch-darkness of shortly after 5 a.m. doesn’t help in that regard, either.

We need to get to the other side.

Seven of us are just two hours and a bit over six miles into an ambitious plan. If all goes well, our odyssey will culminate about 18 hours from now on the other side of Zion, with us hiking a bit over 50 miles—traversing the entire park in one day.

So we point headlamps at the torrent and look around for a safe place to ford, everyone fully aware of the dangers of a fast-moving creek.


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As some of us discuss possible crossing points, we notice that Mark Fenton has taken off his shoes and socks and slowly waded in alone. Conversation stops as everyone watches him probing with and leaning on his trekking poles, taking slow, difficult steps forward. The creek rises to his knees, then his thighs, then his crotch. It escapes none of us that Mark, while one of the strongest hikers in our group of friends who have all logged 30-mile days and longer, suffers from a form of vertigo that causes him to stagger down a trail when hiking by headlamp in the dark.

Now he’s fording a raging creek… by headlamp in the dark. I don’t think I’m the only one among us contemplating what to do if Mark gets knocked over and swept away.

Giving voice to the palpable relief we’re all feeling—and speaking the words no one wanted to utter while Mark was still in the creek—Todd Arndt jokes, “Who thought it would be a good idea for him to go first?”

The rest of us find a wider, slightly shallower spot just upstream and ford La Verkin with less excitement. In this spring of high runoff, this crossing posed a bigger challenge than we expected and will prove to be the technical crux of our hike. But more than anything, it illustrates an important point: Given the absurd, sheer audaciousness of our objective today, there is plenty of time and distance for problems to arise. This is wilderness, after all. The unexpected happens.

Still, we all understand that the factor likely to dictate whether we reach the other side of Zion National Park—more than 50 trail miles away—will be whether our bodies hold up.

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Why such a ludicrously long dayhike? For a certain type of hiker or trail runner—highly motivated, obsessive-compulsive, choose your descriptor—it holds a twisted allure. It attempts to answer the question: With the right training and preparation, how far can I go in one determined, singularly driven day? After all, beyond the significant hurdle of endurance, perambulating much farther than 50 miles would require more than a day for most even very fit people. And if walking that far in under 24 hours is hard, continuing into a second day, with the serious sleep deprivation that entails, raises the suffering stakes to a whole new level.

But that only goes partway toward explaining my motivation—and, I confess, this lunacy was my idea. I turned 50 this spring. The psychological significance of this event eludes easy explanation to anyone who hasn’t reached it yet. I’m okay with it; my life is good. But I found myself thinking that this birthday demanded doing something equal to the magnitude of tagging the half-century mark.

I immediately ruled out the two traditional male outlets for a mid-life crisis: I can’t nearly afford an expensive Italian sports car, and I have too good and tolerant a wife to consider leaving her for someone half my age. Still, those two things set a high bar for someone contemplating the right moves to wrestle this bear named Fifty to the ground. Compared to laying out the equivalent of a house downpayment for a car or showing off a trophy girlfriend, celebrating with a couple of beers seemed a little blasé.

That’s when I came up with the idea for a 50-mile dayhike.

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Along the West Rim Trail in Zion National Park.

For a few years, I’ve also had in my head the idea of hiking north to south across Zion in a day. Having hiked sections of it before, I knew the 47-mile traverse from Lee Pass Trailhead to East Entrance Trailhead—all on trail, with a short shuttle-bus ride in Zion Canyon from The Grotto to Weeping Rock (location of the East Rim Trailhead)—takes in some of the most amazing scenery in the Southwest: deep chasms with burnt-red and white walls, soaring cliffs and beehive rock formations, and edge-of-the-rim walks high above labyrinths of slot canyons. Throw in a few very worthy, short side hikes along the way—Northgate Peaks, Angels Landing, and Hidden Canyon—and you log 51 miles on one of the most incredible days of hiking I can imagine in the national park system.

It would be the farthest any of us has ever hoofed in a day, but arguably not as difficult as the 44-mile, rim-to-rim-to-rim dayhike of the Grand Canyon that six of the seven of us made a year ago (in two separate groups on different days)—which entails 11,000 feet of elevation gain and loss, roughly half again as much as the Zion traverse. And as a pure test of endurance, this one huge day across Zion does not touch the seven-day thru-hike of the John Muir Trail that two of my companions today and I knocked off five years ago.

The first challenge of an ultra-dayhike is recruiting the right people as partners—individuals not only capable of either completing it or getting themselves out safely if they can’t, but who are also going to be good company. I’m fortunate in that regard, having a surprising number of friends who are skilled, fit, and crazy enough for such an undertaking. As is often the case when I organize an adventure, some of these people will be meeting each other for the first time. One of the biggest thrills for me is bringing together great people, knowing that their positive energy and dynamic will largely dictate how much everyone draws from the experience. See “The Cast of Characters” sidebar for more about the six people who agreed to help me celebrate this birthday.

So, after what seemed like a book-length exchange of e-mails, we agreed on a weekend date in mid-May—late enough for snow to melt out on the canyon rims, early enough to avoid brutal heat in the canyon bottoms. And we all vowed to commence three-month training programs… that we were too busy with work and family to follow through on. I think only David and I logged as much as 20 miles in one training run-hike. Mark arrived in Zion lamenting that he’d fit in few regular workouts in recent weeks. Todd confessed that he had managed nothing longer than an eight-mile trail run.

As much as past experience gave us the confidence to try a 50-mile hike across Zion, our inadequate training had each of us quietly wondering who among us might become the next Everett Ruess, the 20-year-old solo adventurer who infamously disappeared in 1934 in the unforgiving Southwest desert country.

Shelli Johnson and David Ports fording La Verkin Creek in Zion National Park.

A hike this long is no leisurely stroll. I had laid out target times for reaching key points: meeting up with Mark’s wife, Lisa, their daughter, Skye, and friend Amy Mingels, who would have water and food for us when we reached Hop Valley Trailhead at mile 13 around 7 a.m.; meeting them again at Angels Landing by around 4 p.m.; and reaching a water cache on the West Rim Trail by mid-afternoon and an energy-drink cache on the East Rim Trail in the evening. My friend Mark Godley hauled both of those liquid loads into the backcountry yesterday and plans to rendezvous with us in Zion Canyon to hike the final 11 miles tonight.

We made good time hiking by headlamps after starting at Lee Pass Trailhead at 3:10 a.m. on a calm, partly cloudy night with the temperature at a very comfortable 54° F. The delay at La Verkin Creek sets us back about 45 minutes. A little while later, walking through the chilly Hop Valley shortly after dawn, between soaring cliffs of red rock, four of us waste another 20 minutes getting sucked onto a user footpath that leads nowhere, forcing us to backtrack to find the faint trail.

At 10:30 a.m., just past mile 17, Shelli, Todd, David, and I reach the junction with the out-and-back trail to the Northgate Peaks, one of our planned side trips. Shelli decides to skip this 2.2-mile addendum and push ahead. The three of us drop our packs, and Todd jogs out the flat trail through open pine forest to “stretch my legs,” he tells us. David and I walk briskly, joking that it will be “the last we see of anyone else!”

Little do we know.

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Jon, Mark, and Carl pass us on their return from the Northgate Peaks overlook; minutes later, Todd jogs past on his return. David and I reach the rocky point at the trail’s end, take a few minutes to soak up the view of white beehive formations of rippled sandstone, then turn around to resume our long march.

A tightness high in my left I.T. band, an overuse injury I’ve dealt with on and off for years, starts declaring its presence to me as David and I continue on the Wildcat Canyon Trail. This time, unlike anytime before, stiffness begins developing on the outside of my left knee. I keep flexing it normally and tell myself that I can walk through the pain for more than another 30 miles, no problem.

The two of us reach Blue Creek, which flows strongly but is an easy, calf-deep ford. Near mile 20, we’re both famished and eager for a short respite from our shoes. I thought we might catch up with some of the others refilling water here, but they have all moved on. My left knee has grown stiffer; David has blisters sprouting on both feet. We stick our bare feet in the icy water for as long as we can stand it, feeling the numbing effect drain away the ache. We eat and eat more and 40 minutes tick past before we’re hiking again—twice as long as we intended to stop for.

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David Ports on the West Rim Trail in Zion National Park.

Compared to the rest of the traverse, the stretch between the Northgate Peaks and Potato Hollow on the West Rim Trail suffers from a deficit of scenic inspiration—and comes at a time when our energy levels are waning and our spirits need a lift.

Then we climb through switchbacks out of Potato Hollow and hit the payoff stretch of the West Rim Trail, one of the park’s most popular footpaths among backpackers. The trail justifies its name, tracing the edge of a canyon rim overlooking a wilderness of majestic oddity that beggars description. Isolated green mesa tops float in the sky like lilies on a pond, above a labyrinth of white-rock slot canyons. We know we need to make time but can’t help pausing to shoot photos.

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Backpacking Through the Otherworldly Scenery of Zion https://thebigoutsideblog.com/pilgrimage-across-zion-traversing-a-land-of-otherworldly-scenery/ https://thebigoutsideblog.com/pilgrimage-across-zion-traversing-a-land-of-otherworldly-scenery/#comments Thu, 10 Jun 2010 01:25:56 +0000 https://thebigoutsideblog.com/?p=2306 Read on

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By Michael Lanza

At the Lee Pass Trailhead in the northwest corner of southern Utah’s Zion National Park, a strong, chilling wind blasts us with air that feels more Canadian Rockies than canyon country. It’s noon on the first day of October, and while the air temperature hovers around 50° F here at just over 6,000 feet, and the sun beams down warmly from a bulletproof blue sky, we’re dressed in pants and fleece jackets.

It’s not quite what I’d expected after tracking Zion’s weather for the past week from home: Up until a few days ago, the highs were hitting the 80s up here and topping 90° F in Zion Canyon, about 2,000 feet lower than this rim. But it’s hard to worry much about wind when you’re staring at an extended forecast for sunshine and the kind of scenery greeting us at the trailhead. Fanned out before us like a royal flush of diamonds is an array of 700-foot, red and orange cliffs forming one end of the finger-like Kolob Canyons. The red hues contrast starkly against the strip of greenery tracing the stream channel in the canyon bottom and the yellow in some leaves still clinging to trees.

And that’s just the opening shot.

La Verkin Creek, Zion National Park.

My wife, Penny, our son Nate, recently turned nine, and our six-and-a-half-year-old daughter, Alex, accompanied by a small cadre of stuffed animals, are heading out for a four-day, approximately 28-mile traverse from Lee Pass to the Grotto Trailhead in Zion Canyon. In many ways, it’s an ideal backpacking trip for a family with young kids, in particular because it offers several itinerary options. (See the Make It Happen section, below this story.) But for anyone wanting to see the best of the Southwest’s canyon scenery, this trek is a must-do, and one of the most spectacular backcountry trips in the entire national park system.

While Nate has done hikes of this length, it will be Alex’s most ambitious yet. But we’ve been working her up to this, with trips incrementally more challenging, so I’m confident she’ll do fine. And our first-grader will demonstrate her fortitude after a surprise, scary incident on our second day out here.

Penny and I have hiked in Zion before, the first time years ago, before we were married, and most recently with the kids and some of my family when Nate was five and a half and Alex barely three. But on both of those previous trips, we’d only dayhiked around Zion Canyon, to popular spots like Angels Landing, Hidden Canyon, and Observation Point. Now, ironically, with our kids still young, we’re diving deeper into Zion’s backcountry than ever before.

From Lee Pass, we descend steadily on the La Verkin Creek Trail to Timber Creek, which has dried up this autumn. Cottonwoods up to 80 feet tall line the sandy banks, scattering occasional, small patches of shade onto the trail. With little wind here in the canyon bottom to offset the afternoon sun, we strip down to shirts and pants. Except for occasionally pulling on a fleece, this will be our hiking attire most of the time over the next four days.

After three hours of easy walking, we arrive at campsite four, among pine trees a minute’s stroll from La Verkin Creek, which runs shallow but strong, clear, and loud. As Penny and I pitch tents and cook, Nate and Alex while away a couple of timeless hours engaged in their favorite backcountry activity: playing in the creek, constructing marvels of hydro engineering with sticks, rocks, and mud. Evening brings a display of alpenglow on the towering cliffs flanking both sides of the broad canyon, until night arrives, bearing cool, calm air and a black sky sprayed with pinholes of light.


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La Verkin Creek Trail. La Verkin campsite 4 La Verkin Creek. La Verkin Creek. La Verkin Creek Trail. A young girl hiking the La Verkin Creek Trail in Zion National Park. La Verkin Creek Trail. La Verkin Creek, Zion N.P. La Verkin Creek Trail. Kolob Arch, in Kolob Canyons. Along the Hop Valley Trail in Zion National Park. Hop Valley. Hop Valley. Angels Landing, Zion Canyon. Nate, West Rim Trail. West Rim Trail. West Rim Trail. West Rim Trail. West Rim Trail view.

The desert Southwest’s bizarre, vividly colored geology ignites wildfires of the imagination. Rock sculpted in ways unseen elsewhere in America—at least not so extensively—inspired a vocabulary and place names to equal the haunting and compelling allure of the land. So we have terms like hoodoo and slot canyon, and natural features called The Great White Throne, Thor’s Hammer, and Angels Landing, to name a few. Each of the region’s national parks and monuments possesses a unique character; each is worthy of getting to know at a level of intimacy only acquired in the same way that we best learn a new language: complete immersion. That is, by walking some miles, sweating, feeling the coarse sandstone crumble in your fingers, and hearing the wind blow through voids undisturbed by the sounds of machines.

But even in a region where the extraordinary becomes ordinary, Zion stands out. Perhaps that’s why it was Utah’s first national park, designated in the same year, 1919, as Grand Canyon National Park. Others may abound with natural arches, spires, or ancient cliff dwellings, but none really matches the scale of Zion’s grandeur—the sensations of awe, disbelief, and smallness evoked by a succession of 2,000-foot-tall cliffs stretching for miles, the rock’s purity of white and blood red, or patterns of striations rippling across a span of stone that would dwarf Man’s greatest buildings and monuments. It’s easy to understand how the first Mormon settlers here, who named many of these features, saw the hand of God applied more lovingly in Zion than in other parts of Creation.

Pulling on a wool hat and down jacket when I emerge from the tent early in the morning, I put the temp in the high 30s. But it warms up at least 10 degrees by the time we finish eating, loading packs—and, for Nate and Alex, playing more in the creek—and start hiking around 9:30. We follow the sandy, nearly flat trail along La Verkin Creek, which pours over occasional foot-high ledges and waters a lush—by desert standards—bottomland of cottonwoods, ponderosa pine, and prickly pear and other cacti.

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A cliff above La Verkin Creek in Zion.

The sun must scale a high canyon wall to reach us, so we walk in cool shade until late morning, a welcome postponement of the coming dry heat. But the sun has roundabout ways of infiltrating this deep recess, including what might be called a Boomerang Effect: The light scorching the south-facing canyon walls high overhead on our left gets bounced across the canyon, as if reflected off an angled mirror. This softer light diffuses onto the shadowed cliffs on our right, deepening the reds in sharp contrast to the greenery of trees and bushes clinging to ledges. The cliffs may be a great canvas, but light is the paintbrush.

Despite having bluebird weather at a prime time of year to hike in Zion, we see just a half dozen other people throughout our two days in the Kolob canyons. All are dayhikers, most of them making the 14.4-mile out-and-back jaunt from Lee Pass to the view of Kolob Arch—which, at an estimated 292 feet, vies with Landscape Arch in Arches National Park for the title of the world’s largest. While the kids opt for more creek time, Penny and I take turns hiking the half-mile spur trail to the view of the arch, which clings to the canyon wall high overhead.

A bit more than an hour later, we’re ascending the hot, dusty path toward Hop Valley. Two minutes ahead of us with Nate, Penny gets stung by a wasp, but they continue on without realizing they’ve apparently disturbed a ground nest. When Alex and I reach the spot moments later, the wasps are ready for vengeance.

In an instant, they swarm upon us; Alex is screaming, and I’m swatting wildly and urging her forward. We scurry some 200 yards up the trail before finally outrunning the cloud of wasps. Alex has a painful-looking, swollen lower lip and another sting between two fingers; but fortunately, no more than that, and she shows no signs of a dangerous allergic reaction. I’m not sure how many stings I have on my burning arms and legs.

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I apply an old home-remedy salve remembered from childhood—toothpaste—to my upset daughter’s wounds. She sobs for a while and accepts some comforting hugs, but shortly we’re walking again, our six-year-old seeming to accept that the wilderness has thorns to match its roses. Weeks from now, the kids will recall the incident with the same “remember that?” tone they use in resurrecting shared moments, confirming to me that the wasp attack had evolved from trauma to just another piece of our family lore.

We tramp through the boggy Hop Valley, a corridor of grass and a few small, lonely trees between 400-foot-high, sheer red walls. Several lost-looking cows graze here—it’s allowed. Nate and I stop to examine the desiccated remains of one, reduced to a skull, leg bones, and a big leather skin spread neatly over the ground like a throw rug.

After nine sandy miles, we reach the car at the Hop Valley Trailhead and discover the national park is conducting a controlled burn. Park officials have temporarily closed the West Rim Trailhead, several miles up the road, where we planned to start the second overnight leg of our hike. But the kids’ weariness and the wasp incident had already sealed our decision to take advantage of our route’s flexibility. We’ll bed down in a hotel tonight and resume our trek in the morning, in Zion Canyon.

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Nate hikes the West Rim Trail in Zion.

On our third morning, we step off the park’s free shuttle bus at the Grotto Trailhead into T-shirt-and-shorts weather, and join the conga line of people ascending the paved Angels Landing Trail, which attracts hundreds of hikers on a nice day. I’m plodding along and sweating barrels under a pack that’s way too heavy for an overnight hike, mostly thanks to the addition of eight liters—17 pounds—of water. Alex shows sympathy and slows down to keep me company.

But once we’ve passed Angels Landing—two and a half miles and 1,500 feet uphill—it’s as if we’ve slammed a door behind us to lock out the hordes. Continuing up the West Rim Trail (we’re at its southern end, not the northern end that’s temporarily closed), we see perhaps a dozen other hikers all afternoon, while walking through a landscape as fascinating and mind-bogglingly gorgeous as any I’ve laid eyes on.

Following the trail along a narrow spine of sandstone, we tiptoe cautiously up to the brink of a dizzyingly sheer, thousand-foot drop to the Virgin River. Zion Canyon sprawls out below us, with walls rising 2,000 feet or more to an opposite rim higher than our overlook. We continue at a leisurely kids’ pace up a side canyon where conical cliffs with diagonal and horizontal striations look like giant beehives, or the work of a painter sweeping an enormous brush randomly back and forth across the rock. Streaks of salmon and burgundy drip down clean white walls. Stunted but stubborn pines, small bushes, and some grasses and wildflowers spring improbably from pockets of thin soil, but mostly we’re walking through a micro-environment of barren rock.

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Alex and Penny hike the West Rim Trail in Zion.

The trail wends a circuitous route through this vertical maze, zigzagging innumerable switchbacks. I gaze up at a headwall that we have to scale to gain the West Rim, wondering where this footpath could possibly breach that rampart—then discover the answer as we ascend another exposed, narrow ridge and follow a sidewalk-wide footpath blasted out of cliffs.

As usual, we see few kids on the trail, and no backpackers as young as Alex and Nate. But we meet some adults who feel compelled to give us advice about backpacking with our kids. I’ve run into this before. It’s as if they’re perplexed that we’d be taking young kids out here, or presume that if we’re doing something this crazy, we must be in need of their unsolicited advice—which generally falls into the categories of glaringly obvious or naïve. They warn us that “the trail gets steep,” that “it’s going to get very cold tonight”—and my favorite all-purpose tip for parents: “You should be careful.”

After leaving these people behind, we make up responses we’re tempted to give, like, “Well, if it gets cold, we’ll just burn the kids’ clothes to keep warm.”

That evening, inside our tents pitched in the sparse pine forest at 7,300 feet on the West Rim, we play card games and read books, listening to the roar of the wind. Gigantic gusts build for several long seconds, sounding like they’re coming simultaneously from different directions, before crashing through our campsite with the volume and tonal quality of a jet taking off just overhead. It’s mild, in the 50s, as a full moon plays peek-a-boo through breaks in the clouds, intermittently throwing haunting, twisted-finger shadows of tree trunks and branches onto our tent walls.

It’s all a little exciting for Nate and Alex, but not enough to keep them awake—mountain winds and creepy shadows on tents are an old show for these veterans. Besides, like their parents, these two appreciate the value of a long night’s snooze in the wilderness.

 

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