I’m in an arboretum, in a riparian zone, in the heart of the Sonoran Desert, in the nation’s fifth largest national forest, an hour from downtown Phoenix. And as I watch butterflies flit between stalks of lavender and the fiery blooms of caesalpinia pulcherrima, I’m smirking. It’s the face I get whenever I think of outsiders eschewing my desert as just hot sand and dirt.

Boyce Thompson Arboretum, the state’s oldest botanical garden, was founded as an arid plant preserve and a global collection of the trees that thrive best in the climate. You’ll find a healthy representation of natives
— agaves, aloes, barrel cacti and saguaros—along with some transplants like the eucalyptus and boojum.

Nine scenic paths cross the state park and arboretum, including the 1.5 mile Main Trail that winds past the founder’s Picket Post Mansion and beside cottonwoods drinking from Queen Creek. We started at the short Sonoran Desert Exhibit loop and continued on the Main Trail toward the greenhouses.

The nearby Children’s Horticulture Garden dazzled with orange Queen butterflies and the smells of herbs.

Father down the path, the Cactus and Succulents Garden offered some up-close investigation of barrel cacti and other forms that look like the spinier cousins of a coral reef.

Rushes line the lips of Ayer Lake, a reservoir created for irrigation. From here, you’ll get your first glimpse of Boyce Thompson’s Picket Post House perched on the hill beyond. The historic mansion is closed except for special occasions, but the trail takes you up close to its crenelations in a volcanic cliffside.

At the easternmost edge of the park, you’ll have an option for your loop back along Queen Creek. The High Trail hits the views, but we opted to stick to the Main Trail so we’d trek through the Eucalyptus Forest. After standing on the suspension bridge, of course. Keep an eye out for hummingbirds.

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My adventure of a lifetime happened 2,000 feet into the wilderness of the Grand Canyon, at Havasupai.

I’d clambered through rock tunnels and down chains wet with mist from a 200-foot waterfall. I’d trekked through a lost canyon, overgrown with wild grape. I’d scrambled up ladders, and plunged into cold water, milky-blue from limestone.

I’d done it after carrying a quarter of my weight on my back for 10 miles, and surviving for three days off my careful packing. And I’d do it all again to have just another day of true adventure.

Here’s what I learned about hiking to Havasupai and its dramatic waterfalls, in case it helps you get there yourself one day.

Getting the Permits

The falls and campgrounds occupy land belonging to the Havasupai Indian Reservation. Supai, the main village is home to a few hundred tribal members; the fees and camp expenses you pay to obtain a permit are tourism dollars for the tribe. At the time of this post, I paid around $200 per person for two nights. A minimum stay of one night is required to visit.

Securing permits is an adventure in itself. After the photogenic falls first popped up on social media, visitation spiked, along with competition for coveted campsites. A local Arizona news outlet doomed the process as “nearly impossible.” I was thwarted my first year of getting a permit back in the days before the reservation system moved online, and calling the tourism office ad nauseam until someone picked up was the norm.

The next year, we came armed with a larger group and a plan to be on www.havasupaireservations.com as it went live for the year on February 1 at 8 am. The chaos started promptly after—browsers failing to load and rejections for dates that were no longer available. I was fielding Facebook messages from one friend, texting from others, a phone call, and my co-worker shouting down the hallway. And then, somehow, we got it: nine people, two nights, one “impossible” experience. Permits for all of 2018 were sold out within 20 minutes.

Packing

Here’s what I brought for a two-night, three-day campground stay in late October. If you are new to backpacking, check out my packing list and tips for beginners.

Camp gear

• Backpack
• Hydration bladder
• Tent
• Sleeping bag
• Sleeping pad
• Trekking poles
• Headlamp
• Solar-powered collapsible lantern
• Jetboil and fuel
• Utensils
• Knife
• Travel towels
• Sunscreen and bug repellant
• Stuff sacks
• Water bottle for around camp
• First aid kit with leukotape for blister prevention
• Water filter (we did not end up using this for the water at Fern Spring, but handy to have)
• Day pack
• Hammock
• Shower wipes
• Rope
• Rat sack/critter bag and rope if going in summer to protect food from aggressive squirrels
• Cash

Food

• Freeze-dried dinners and breakfast
• Lunch to eat on the trails (we made peanut butter and jelly)
• Snacks and energy bars
• Energy chews

Clothes

• Pair of pants
• Pair of shorts
• Fleece layer
• Long-sleeve layer
• Jacket
• T-shirts
• Hiking socks
• Swimsuit
• Sports bra
• Hat
• Hiking boots
• Water shoes (and neoprene socks if the water will be cold)
• Grip gloves for Mooney Falls

Hiking Down

We opted for a night’s rest in Peach Springs, AZ before tackling the trail early the next morning. But an early turn-in became a midnight affair after my car engine seized on the highway outside of Ash Fork. Friends came from the hotel to rescue us, and after tinkering with a tow we were all settled at the Grand Canyon Caverns Inn.

The hour-long drive out to Hualapai Hilltop wasn’t as early as I planned, but we joined the ranks of precariously parked vehicles along the canyon road and got started downhill by 9:30 am. In October, it was sunny but cool, and we made good time.

The first mile and half wound 1,000 feet down the canyon wall. Then, we filed through a dry river bed as sandstone canyon walls rose around us. This 6.5-mile section of the hike ended in a leafy jaunt along Havasu Creek. After crossing between pastures on the outskirts of Supai, we finally made it to the main village.

We checked in with the tourism office, got our wristbands and tent tag, and started off through the town of Supai. The constant roar of a helicopter lifting hiker’s bags out of the canyon followed us through the narrow streets. We got some high-fives from a little villager hanging around outside his school. Onward!

By the time we’d reached the site of Navajo Falls and Fifty Foot Falls, I could muster only a little interest. 8.5 miles of packing wore on my shoulders and spirit. We kept on another 1.5 miles through sand, the idea of camp spurring us on, until we reached majestic Havasu Falls. After a few pictures from the vantage point at the top of the trail, we finished up the last half-mile push through the campsites.

Camping

Welcome to Havasupai! Enjoy the pit toilets, picnic tables, fresh spring water and proximity to a cold gatorade. While remote, it’s not rugged. The half-mile campground stretch is filled with a lot of coolers, pop-up tarps and propane stoves dragged down by mules or hauled in a chopper.

It was with a pinch of judgment (and sure, maybe some jealousy) that I eyed people navigating wheelbarrows of their stuff from the drop point inside the mule’s pen.  But for my stalwart group and other backpackers we crossed, I commend you. For the tough hike in, the reliance on freeze-dried fineries and the hike out to come.

The campgrounds are stunning. We skipped to the back, where stretches of flimsy boards and a crooked bridge over the creek were the required passage for a camp spot. I set up a tent with a view of the blue water cascading over limestone-lipped dams. Campers before us had already strung a knotted line for carabiners, but I’d recommend packing some rope or twine to hang food and dry clothes just in case.

Havasu Falls

The short half-mile to Havasu Falls made it a popular return journey from camp. It’s gorgeous. The iconic tail of white water plummeting into a perfect blue pool below has apparently changed since a decades-old flood, but Havasu Falls is still magnificent. We were just happy it was blue; some early fall storms had turned it chocolate brown just the week before!

In late October, it was too cold to swim. We enjoyed from a distance, and even got down for a yoga session led by our group’s newly minted instructor.

Make sure to bring some cash to try fresh frybread!

Mooney Falls

If Havasu was the serene—a sight for sore eyes after a 10-mile trek, a gentle yoga backdrop—then Mooney was the audacious. Flanked with jagged travertine outcroppings, Mooney plunges almost 200 feet, roaring and spitting mist onto descending hikers.

The cliffside climb to bow at Mooney’s feet requires crunching through natural rock tunnels and clinging to wet chains. We had to wait a while for another group to encourage their last hiker through the end, but sitting on the cliffside watching the waterfall wasn’t the worst fate.

Twisting around to press my chest to the rock and gripping the chains with both hands, I managed an effective descent, trusting my upper body strength over a steep gap in footing. All of us wore grip gloves to hold onto the chains. The last obstacle before touching ground is a wooden ladder.

Fueled with adrenaline, I soaked in the power of the waterfall for a while before we continued on.

If you are hiking up or down to Mooney, you won’t want to do it against traffic! Everyone was headed down in the morning, and up again by 3:30 in the afternoon.

There are also great views from the top of Mooney.

Beaver Falls

Without swimming on the schedule, we had plenty of daylight to head out to explore Beaver Falls. The 3-mile hike in itself was worthwhile. I was surprised to learn less than half of visitors make it out here.

From the cliffside at Mooney, we struck out along the creek and followed a trail up into the canyon. Up on the western wall, we saw a staggeringly high ladder network I’d read was a historic burial ground for the Havasupai tribe.

Our first creek crossings were soon after. Directions online had noted there should be bridges around, but we guessed everything had been swept away by storms. The water near the lips of the limestone dams offered shallow and safe footing for crossing, or sometimes you’ll just need to go in knee-deep.

The hike opened up into a valley that just needed roaming dinosaurs to complete the atmosphere. Swathed entirely with waist-high wild grape and shadowed by red canyon walls, we’d felt like we had entered the land of the lost. The blue creek rumbled through the foliage alongside us as we ducked under arbors of grape vines and crossed a wooden plank.

After the hidden valley, the trail led us past a scenic point in the creek to a sprawling date palm tree, a signpost for a choice in paths. But—what was the choice? Allegedly, a path continued to the left across the creek to the top of Beaver Falls, but the water rushing over fronds looked intimidatingly deep. We chalked it up for another storm alteration and climbed up the ladder to our right.

After some more climbing over rock remnants of ancient falls, we made it to a signpost that indicated we’d made it. I’d somehow walked right past the most iconic shot of Beaver Falls that capture the terraces of blue water.

A picnic table marked a downhill turn to play at the falls at the bottom. It was shady and the water was freezing, but we jumped in for a quick picture. A rope on the opposite wall led to the upper falls, but I opted to hang around on the inside a cave of ferns where a waterfall gushed overhead. Be careful of the undertow!

Hiking Out

I got by with a little help from my friends. Seriously. The Beatles’ hits actually serenaded me up the last two miles of this challenging canyon climb. And I have my friends to thank, too, for the strong willpower and companionship.

10 miles with a heavy pack in the 80-degree heat is tough. I knew it would be. And I knew I wanted to do it—to take my experience, on my back, and challenge myself to accomplish it. The first 7 miles went by quickly, passing back through the village, over the creek, through the dry river canyon. When we got into the full sun and started climbing the scrubby hills, it got hard.

The last mile and a half up the switchbacks were punctuated by quick stops in the shade while my calves burned. But we all did it! I climbed out of the Grand Canyon and lived to tell the tale. Our post-hike beer and burger in Williams, AZ was a phenomenal treat.

The post Hiking Havasupai Falls appeared first on Roaming Hills.

If you are visiting Phoenix for the first time or want an introduction to Sonoran Desert scenery, get Papago Park on your list. It’s the perfect short jaunt for after-work sunset sightings, or to try trail running, mountain biking or scrambling up the sides of the buttes off-trail.

The park also shares a footprint with two of Phoenix’s best attractions, the Desert Botanical Garden and Phoenix Zoo.

Getting There

Papago Park is divided by Galvin Parkway into east and west sides. The east side boasts Hole in the Rock, a famous formation you can climb into after a short hike, plus fishing lagoons, trails and the curious pyramid tomb of Arizona’s Governor Hunt. The west side is best for hiking and offers loop trails around sandstone buttes.

There are two parking lots to access the west side. The more accessible lot is located off of Galvin Parkway, and there’s also a tiny pullout along eastbound McDowell Road, if you just want to start from the amphitheater. The east side has plenty of parking near Hole in the Rock and surrounding the lakes.

Papago Park East

I snuck in from my preferred parking lot near the canal. These bighorn sheep may be living life on the edge, but they are far from wild: They’re Phoenix Zoo residents coming to watch the sunrise.

Governor Hunt’s Tomb

What on earth is that white pyramid on the hillside overlooking the park? A 1930s tomb for an eclectic governor, of course. George Hunt is entombed here with his wife and some close family members. His interest in Egyptian history inspired the shape, and I suppose his chops as a politician permitted him the unconventional burial place in the middle of town.

You can get here and enjoy the views by walking up the trail that leads from a parking lot below.

Hole-in-the-Rock

This natural sandstone “cave” is accessible from a .3-mile uphill walk, and peeks out over the lagoons below toward downtown Phoenix. It’s a great viewpoint without a lot of work, which also means you’ll be sharing it with several other onlookers. Come for a sunset and stake out a spot inside the rock opening to watch, or if you are daring, climb up onto the landmark.

Hole-in-the-Rock refers not to the large opening, but a smaller hole in the top that Phoenix’s ancient masterminds of civilization planning—the Hohokam—used to track the seasons.

The ponds

You can fish from these three palm-lined ponds, or just enjoy the reflections.

Papago Park West

It’s your hike, your way on the trails around the buttes on the west side of the park. The main path is the Double Butte Loop, which takes you 2 miles around both formations. You can also access the Little Butte Loop, or climb onto the butte itself. The Big Butte Loop circles the formation closest to McDowell Road and through the amphitheater on the north side. The CCC built these stone seats back in the 30s, and the 3,500-person amphitheater historically housed Easter sunrise services; now it’s solely used for runners getting their heart rate up on a morning exercise routine.

Obviously be careful, but the buttes are fun to climb off-trail. There are alcoves and great views up there.

As a creature of habit, my path when hiking Papago Park is to start off on the west side of the Double Butte Loop, running uphill to the Little Butte and walking around the top, then walking to the ramada in the middle before circling the Big Butte.

Bonus: Tempe’s Papago Park

Since I live just blocks east of the park, I sneak in from the Crosscut Canal Path starting near Evelyn Hallman Pond. My typical route is to actually cut south into what my husband and I unofficially refer to as “Tempe Papago,” or the trails around Curry Road.

There is an entire system back here for climbing on buttes and following trails through wild desert. It’s an after-work ritual in the cooler months before the sun sets. We’ve also played disc golf in the course off of Mill Ave.

If you want to really spend some time out here, there is a tunnel under Curry that connects the upper and lower half of the trails. Climb the Loma Trail to the ramada, and you’ll be elevated for views of the 202 freeway and beautiful skyline of downtown Tempe over the water. You’ll also be standing on the ruins of Loma del Rio, an ancient Hohokam ruin. I like the sensation of watching roaring traffic and sleek buildings from 1500-year-old stones.

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It’s a phrase that’s become a common joke with my hiking friends. Midway through almost any scenic trail, recency bias inspires us to proclaim it’s the best we’ve ever trekked.

So one day years back on South Mountain’s Mormon Trail to Hidden Valley Loop, it was designated “favorite.” And since I’ve hiked it each year since, I’m starting to think it might actually be one of the best in town.

South Mountain Park & Preserve is a hiking wonderland in itself. Just 20 minutes from the core of the city, this massive 16,000-acre slice of the Sonoran Desert offers crisscrossing trails for all hiking levels. You can climb up to the highest accessible point at Dobbins Lookout, or wander the 12-mile National Trail from its East to West ends.

And if you want to have some fun clambering over, through and under lots of rocks, Hidden Valley is your pick.

Hidden Valley via Mormon Trail

Length: 3.4-mile lollipop loop

Duration: 2 hours

Season: Spring is the best for scenery – the trail will be filled with yellow brittlebush and other wildflowers. Winter is great for cool temperatures, and mornings in the late summer/fall are also approachable if you finish before the midday sun. The trail is completely exposed except for the short tunnel.

Crowds: It’s South Mountain’s most popular trail, so expect some steady traffic.

Difficulty: Moderate. The initial climb is steep, and there are sections on the loop that require some rock navigation and careful footing. The trail is hard to follow at points, so know your route and keep an eye out for other hikers.

Dogs: Yes, on a leash – and if they have some clearance to clamber over a few rocks.

Mormon Trailhead to National Trail

The hike begins at Mormon Trailhead, a small parking lot on 24th St. It will likely be full, unless you are there for the sunrise; overflow parking stretches on both sides of northbound 24th.

You’ll get your heart pumping right away on a 1.1-mile ascent up the wholesomely-named Neighborhood Canyon. The views look over the surrounding homes out toward downtown, and the higher you climb, the better they get. You can spot Camelback Mountain, Piestewa Peak and the Papago Buttes in the distance; Four Peaks is also visible out to the east. There are a few spots to take a break and a photo opp on the canyon rocks.

When you reach the junction of Mormon Trail and Mormon Loop, you are presented with three options: A vantage point you can climb for a great view looking north, a trail for Mormon Loop to the left, and a straight southward trail to continue on Mormon Trail. Do not take the loop trail (but climb the hill and back if you want)! Your route should take you straight south, on a sandy path that’s blissfully level after the climb. Here, you’ll reach a sign that indicates a turn off for National Trail.

National Trail Connector

You’ve finished the lollipop stick, and have the choice of which way you want to go around.

Going right: This is the preferred way if you are unfamiliar with the trail, or want an easier descent down rocks instead of a climb up. Head right on the National Trail for .4 miles, and you will see a sign for Hidden Valley/Fat Man’s Pass to the left.

Going left: This is my personal preference because I like the challenge, and am familiar with where the trail leads. I love the gradual approach to higher views and clambering up instead of down. If you decide to go right, you will take a .2-mile jaunt on the National Trail before reaching a turnoff for the Natural Tunnel.

Fat Man’s Pass

To enter Hidden Valley, a challenge awaits: Squeezing through the rock crevice known as Fat Man’s Pass. It’s not a requirement for proceeding; you can hike around to the left if you want. Otherwise, kick your claustrophobia, take off your pack and slip sideways through the rock.

Oh, there is another way over. You can slide on your butt down a sloping rock, slicked with wear from other intrepid hiker butts. My inner child requires I try this at least once every time. Trust me and be cautious if you’re in shorts that might ride up and give you rock burn. Which is definitely not what’s happening in this video…

Hidden Valley

Tucked away from the bustle of bikers and hikers on National Trail, Hidden Valley is aptly named. The .5-mile section of the trail winds through saguaro sentinels, sandy flats and lots of intriguing rock formations. Slow down to play, if it’s in your schedule. You can hop in and around several different pathways and small outcroppings.

Natural Tunnel

The end of your Hidden Valley journey is a 40-foot rock tunnel. Have fun investigating the formations on the sides, and for the adventurous spirits, climbing up on top of the tunnel to explore the rocks above.

If you came from the right, you will have a .2-mile connector on the National Trail back to Mormon Trail, the lollipop stick. Enjoy the views on the way back down to the trailhead.

Preview the Trail with Google Trekker

In 2017, I had the opportunity to be part of capturing the Mormon Trail to Hidden Valley Loop with Google Trekker. This 360° camera technology is the off-road version of Google Street View. To literally put this trail on the map, my team at Visit Phoenix took turns shrugging on the giant, 45-pound camera backpack and walking steadily down the trail. Awkward? Yes. Painfully heavy at times? Oh yeah.

But we did this for you, curious hiker! Check it out, and if you see a gap in the footage, it’s where we had to turn it off to painstakingly slide it down to each other over sloping rocks. Good times.

Click through the hike below or open in a new tab here.

Start of the trail:

Inside the natural tunnel. And yes, that is me, captured for all online posterity as a creeper on the rocks. This way, Hobbitses!

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Wait, sorry. That part is supposed to come later, after the intro. I am just so eager to share our fortune as early risers.

Anyway. I’m almost embarrassed to mention this, but despite living relatively near Bryce, Zion, Arches, Canyonlands and the Utah’s other showy rock formations, I hadn’t been to any of them until this week. There’s hardly anything I haven’t seen in Arizona, but for some reason the “Mighty Five” across the border hadn’t made it on the list yet.

Finally, it all came together to visit Zion: with my friend’s National Parks Pass, with a home base in nearby St. George with relatives, and on a trip already planned to Salt Lake City.

Only problem? It was August. Although I’ve embraced my desert home and warmed my internal temperature so that I need a jacket in 65 degree weather, I can’t hike if it’s over 80. The summer is also peak season when families and international travelers descend on the parks en masse. Still, it was an opportunity not to miss. And it all worked out beautifully.

Here’s what we did in the August heat with two days in Zion National Park. (Note: Angel’s Landing and the Emerald Pools, two popular trails, were closed from storm damage during my visit.)

Logistics

The park moves to a shuttle-only approach through the canyon in the busier months, so you’ll need to park your car at the Visitor’s Center lot and hop aboard. At 8 am, there was a small line forming and the parking lot was filling up (and by our return to the lot around noon, it was completely full). Shuttles run frequently and stop at each of eight points where hikers can access the lodge, viewpoints or popular trailheads.

GO EARLY.

Ok, now it makes sense to say it. Before 9 am, everything was beautiful. Your busload of early risers sets off on the trailhead together, naturally spreading apart until you’re enjoying the scenery almost alone. A cool breeze refreshes you and faint fingers of sunlight glance off the opposite canyon walls. But on the way back, as crowds arrive and the sun comes up, it’s another story.

Where I had been enjoying a challenging uphill climb in early morning light with my partner, now toiled dozens and dozens of hikers in the harsh afternoon sun. Where an open canyon was fun for a quick picture and leisurely pace on the way through the Narrows, now traipsed hundreds and hundreds of people crossing the water, many with bare feet (?!). The shuttle stops were packed with families and visitors. On the way out of a trailhead, a man behind me marveled to his friend about the crowds, “This doesn’t even look like the same place we started.”  And then I almost ran into the back of a guy trying to take a picture of a squirrel.

I am not saying it’s not beautiful when there are so many people. Or that it’s not worth it. But if you can get up and get going before 9 am, you are going to have an exceptionally better time than if you rolled up later.

Day 1

Observation Point

Stop 7 | 8 miles out-and-back | Our time: 4 hours

Angel’s Landing was closed from storm damage to the trail, or I wouldn’t have chosen this alternative. But I am actually glad we ended up on it instead. The top point is actually higher and looks down at Angel’s landing, with incredible views back into the park. It was a rewarding trail with lots of surprises as you progress.

You gain elevation off the bat climbing switchbacks, then level off in a high-walled side canyon with a short slot. This is your last chance for real shade if you come later in the day, as the remainder of the hike is another set of exposed switchbacks that don’t relent for another 1,000 feet up.

We reached the sandy rim of the cliff, and on the level path out to Observation Point, I thought I saw another hiker turn the corner toward us. But it was a fully-grown bighorn sheep, maybe 15 feet away! I didn’t get my camera out in time, but it left us both in awe. The view was incredible, but I almost was more impressed by the wildlife encounter.

We’d only used two hours to get up, so I allowed myself some more play time with the camera down in Echo Canyon. Bedraggled uphill hikers in the afternoon sun were already exhausted and they hadn’t hit the tougher switchbacks yet.

When we reached the front face of the rock and were making our way down, it was finally obvious where you could look for Observation Point up above and even see some distant bodies. In this picture, it’s where the red streams on the cliff seem to start.

Weeping Rock

Stop 7 | .4 miles | Our time: 15 minutes

We turned right at the junction after finishing Observation Point for a quick detour to Weeping Rock, which I had seen from the switchbacks. It was busy since the accessibility made it popular with families, but it was worth the look. It’s hard to tell from the pictures, but a steady drizzle of water creeps off the lip, and to everyone inside it looks like rain.

Court of the Patriarchs

Stop 4 | 100 feet | Our time: 5 minutes

A quick stop on the way back to the Visitors Center, this short paved trail offered a nice view of some prominent peaks bearing names of biblical patriarchs.

Day 2

The Narrows

Stop 8 | 7 miles | Our time: 4 hours

Our gear for this included neoprene socks, water shoes and trekking poles, all of which I’d recommend in any cold water hike. We lucked out and got to explore this famous slot canyon the day before a rainy forecast closed it to hikers. The approaching trail is called the Riverside Walk, which our group of bus riders moved through quickly to get to the real treat.

I’ve hiked through a creek where you are up to your knees most of the way, and where fantastic canyon walls framed your experience, but nothing even remotely this beautiful. The joke in our group was “one more corner,” increasing our turnaround point time just to marvel at whatever was next. The scenery shifts and changes; patches of sunlight strike at different angles; boulders and water change color. I got a different “mood” from every twist in the hike.

And while traipsing and picking your way through the stream is technical work requiring your attention, it’s not as inherently exhausting as an uphill climb. I had an almost spiritual experience in here, especially in moments when packs of hikers had split off and we had stretches of canyon to ourselves.

It was slow-going and reflective hiking, where we had good conversation and weren’t out of breath . In the current water depth, I barely got to the bottom of my shorts in one section. We asked around and determined we’d made it to the portion known as “Wall Street”—it was a good bet considering how the walls narrowed in. We turned around here and ate some lunch.

On the way back, I didn’t get my camera out even once. People were gushing our way like a tap had been turned on. The sun touched down in places I didn’t remember and a warm breeze hit us, and as we got closer to the trailhead, we found ourselves walking single file in huge crowds to cross the creek. Families that couldn’t come farther in found places to play and cool down in the water here. The people I didn’t understand were visitors a mile or so in with their sneakers in their hands and no sticks, hobbling and wobbling with arms outstretched across the rocks.

My advice is, again, to go early. We started at 9 am and it was beautifully cool and spacious. If there is rain in the forecast, just don’t do it. I remember watching this video of people forming a human chain to get out during a flash flood.

Canyon Overlook

Parking Lot outside the Zion-Mount Carmel Tunnel | 1 mile | Our time: 20 minutes

I’d seen some pictures from this short hike, so we stopped just on the other side of the long tunnel on Rte 9 for a quick visit. It was midday and fairly hot, but a fun trail on a rocky sandstone canyon. The view at the end looking into the park and at the switchbacks you just drove up is beautiful.

Zion Mt. Carmel Scenic Byway

To head home to Arizona, we continued on Rte 9 after the tunnel. The road winds through red and white rock formations dotted with trees, with stops for viewpoints of some of the buttes. It was a gorgeous drive, topped off with our second bighorn sheep sighting!

Have you been to Zion yet? Share your thoughts or stories in the comments!

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The post Two Days in Zion National Park appeared first on Roaming Hills.

Babad Doʼag.

The native O’odham word for Mount Lemmon, the tallest peak in the Santa Catalinas, sounds straight out of Lord of the Rings. It’s modern day moniker isn’t bad either; “Lemmon” isn’t a misspelled citrus, but a botanist who was the first white woman to ascend the mountain. She hiked it on her honeymoon—a girl after my own heart. It’s one of the few mountains actually named for a woman.

The whole existence of the Catalinas is magical to me. Tucson, the nearest city, sits below at an elevation of 2,600 feet. In an hour up the Catalina Highway, on the scenic Sky Island Byway, you’re suddenly at 7,700. You can even continue on to reach the true top at 9,000 feet.

The temperature drops 20+ degrees. Pine trees line camp sites and hiking paths. There’s a tiny town with a population of 40 called Summerhaven where summer campers pop in for general store refuels and skiiers launch onto slopes at Mount Lemmon Ski Valley.

You are 77 miles as the crow flies (Tolkien words are just in my head now) from the border of Mexico in the heart of the Sonoran Desert. And yet somehow, you’re wrapped in this high-desert wonderland of songbirds, foliage and panoramic views.

As you’re driving up, keep an eye out for hard-working bicyclists puffing their way to the top, and pull over for a look at Windy Point. There’s a cool outcropping to hike out onto, or just take a peek over the edge toward the city.

Camping

We like our camping primitive, so we met up with friends along General Hitchcock Highway where they’d secured an open spot in the woods. If you’d rather have a bathroom like a civilized person, there are plenty of options for designated campgrounds. Just make sure to drive farther up the mountain in the summer where the temperatures are best.

Hiking

Two years ago, I’d come up the mountain for a condensed version of the Lemmon Loop: Start at Mount Lemmon Trailhead at the top (9,000 feet), connect with Lemmon Rock Lookout Trail, wind through Wilderness of Rocks trail, then head up the Aspen Trail (6 miles total).

This time, we started lower at Butterfly Trailhead, intending an out-and-back of about 10 miles toward Crystal Spring. But when you start at only 7,700 feet, and descend all the way down to 6,500, and it hasn’t rained in a while, you remember why you don’t mess around with summer in Arizona—no matter how high up the mountain you think you are.

The temperature was already creeping into the 80s by our halfway point. Upper Butterfly led to a junction with Crystal Spring Trail. We walked past amazing views on our way down, wading through waist-high ferns, and stopped for a break by a massive oak tree. There was no water in the canyons and creeks when we passed, which would have been a happy reprieve for our footsore dogs. I loved the foliage and views, but I wouldn’t recommend this trail in summer simply for the last mile stretch, where fires have scarred the hillside and burned up foliage. The result was a very, very hot path.

We reached Crystal Spring Trailhead, mulling over our options for return, as the doggies were done for the day. It was then, on the slopes of Babad Doʼag with our tired steeds, we were offered safe passage by wood elves returning to their home.

And by elves, I mean two incredibly kind women with a truck who 1) had just finished the same hike and 2) were driving to the trailhead where we parked our car, as one owned a cabin nearby. I couldn’t believe our fortune. It was a bumpy return up the hillside where we chatted about life on the mountain and wildfires.

Summerhaven

Back at camp, thunder cracked overhead and we bundled up our belongings before heading into Summerhaven for a well-deserved beer. Well, the one restaurant joint in town wasn’t wild about dogs on the patio. So we dashed under sheets of rain with dogs in tow toward the Cookie Cabin & pizzeria, and dashed back after learning they had never served beer and the pizza kitchen was closed for the day. We were able to stock up at the general store (if you’re into fudge, it’s a claim to fame). My favorite takeaway: A sign selling “lemmonade.”

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I recently got to disappear into one of my home state’s most beautiful natural bounties, for two of my favorite activities: hiking and camping in Olympic National Park.

When my Seattleite friend and I were planning the trip and deciding on activities, she posed: “Lake, mountain, beach or rainforest?” Bless you, you beautiful PNW.

If you’re interested in a relaxing escape from life’s responsibilities into the embrace of mossy trees, rugged beaches and lush campsites, read on.

Falls Creek Campground

I usually opt for dispersed camping, but timing and location necessitated designated spots. I’m so glad it did—the peace of mind from driving in with a reservation, and the area’s sheer beauty and privacy, made this a place I would come back again.

Our spot was number 20, and our site looked out over the eponymous Falls Creek, a tributary of nearby Lake Quinalt. I was gently lulled to sleep that night by the sound of this water.

Graves Creek Campground

The next morning, we moved to set up camp early at Graves Creek, a first-come, first-served site arrangement along the roaring Quinalt River. On a Friday morning, it was filling up; by the next morning it was packed in. But spacious sites gave us elbow room and a fantastic spot for a hammock overlooking the river. Bring all the water you’ll need and expect at least a basic pit toilet.

After an hour in the car, we appreciated the convenience of walking just .4 miles to the Graves Creek Trailhead. Hikers have the option of heading southeast along the Graves Creek route, or northeast following the Quinalt River. Our gang (and the dozens of backpackers hauling out to the Enchanted Valley, 13 miles away) chose the latter.

Our destination was “as far as we could get past Pony Bridge.”

Enchanted Valley Trail to Pony Bridge

The 5 mile out-and-back path wound us along river canyon walls where blue glacier water swirled below. We ate in-season salmon berries and blackberries and kind of in-season blueberries, passed twittering birds and millipedes hustling across the trail, and spotted plenty of flowers and ferns.

Pony Bridge extends over a rocky bank that’s definitely worth clambering down to. I could hardly believe the vibrancy of green life clinging to the rock walls, the glacial blue rush of the river under a white-washed fallen log or the delicate fingers of water falling over spongy moss.

Fire Creek

We walked a mile past the bridge to Fire Creek, stopping at overlooks of the river along the way. The bridge was a great place to pull up a seat and have a snack before turning around.

Kalaloch Beach and the Tree of Life

The morning after our hike and second night of camping, we set off for the coast. I’ve always adored the misty, windswept beauty of Washington and Oregon’s beaches. We walked past Kalaloch Campground to the beach access, where barren trees lay scattered in the sand and the ocean reflected a moody sky. Just a short walk to the north was the Tree of Life, sprawled like a kraken over the maw of an eroded cave.

I hope this inspires you to get to the PNW, pronto—or as the bumper sticker on a car on the highway to Seattle suggested, to WAnder.

Leave me a comment: What’s your favorite part of this national park? Where else do you recommend hiking and camping in Washington?

Get a print of the artwork I made inspired by this trip.

LIFE’S A TRAIL…

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The post Hiking & Camping in Olympic National Park appeared first on Roaming Hills.

What if I forget something?

How much water do I bring?

How many times do I need to re-pack before I look like an outdoorsy Instagram babe instead of a overwhelmed weirdo strapped to a giant lumpy pillow?

It’s running through your mind, and it ran through mine. Anyone who’s headed the call of the wild and decided to take a relationship with camping to the next level has pondered over this.

Car camping is beautiful in its abundance: Boom box? Backseat. Seven changes of clothes? Backseat. Way too much beer? In the giant cooler, obviously in the backseat. But backpacking is an entirely different love song to nature, an overture of dependence, toil and simplicity. And the startling realization of how much crap you need to spend a night outside.

Back in the spring, I gleefully accepted an invitation to traverse six miles into Aravaipa Canyon, a creek-crossing adventure in Arizona’s southern wilderness. Here are the takeaways from my first trip to reassure any of you backpacking beginners.

Get the right gear for you

Welcome to the inverted world of backpacking gear, where less is more. Lightweight packs, sleeping bags and tents rack up astronomical prices compared to their car-camping variations that boast twice as much room and fabric. But hey, you know the saying. You get what you pay for, right?

My advice to you, as a beginner: You don’t need to pay for top-tier gear.

If you’re the kind of hobbyist that comes at new endeavors with fist-fulls of cash to buy the best and newest, more power to you. But this section contains shaming of full-price outdoor retail and alternatives for comfort and functionality on a budget.

Your process for purchasing gear might go something like this. Head to your local REI. Pick up a svelte sleeping pad that self inflates and reduces down to the size of a $100 bill. See price tag indicating it will take two of those types of bills to walk out with it, place back on shelf, and mutter to yourself.

Now, find stuff on sale or used. You can even go on Amazon and buy it for a quarter of the price. There are some awesome outdoor retailers there that put effort into designing lightweight products for those of us not committed to forking over a tax return’s worth of tiny tents and little chairs made of a swath of fabric pulled over collapsible poles.

Here’s what I got before my trip:

• Pack: Osprey Aura AG 65. I shelled out for this brand new for $190, but only because I got a discount. It’s a really great pack.
• Tent: Marmot 2 person Tungsten. Bought for $100, half of its retail price, from a guy on OfferUp that it lugged it out only once.
• Sleeping bag: OutdoorsmanLab Mummy Sleeping Bag. 3 seasons, 3 pounds, $35. Time spent putting back into compression sack: Priceless.
• Sleeping pad: OutdoorsmanLab Ultralight Sleeping Pad. 40 bucks for a fluorescent tongue of padding that inflates in a few breaths, and didn’t suck for comfort. REI prices for these run up to $200.
• Chairs: Marchway Ultralight folding chairs. $30 instead of REI’s $80, and only 6 ounces heavier.
• Hydration bladder: WACOOL 3-liter reservoir, $17. Your pack doesn’t come with this, and you need it so you can drink water and not die.
• Trekking poles: Snowy Mountain Traders aluminum poles. What’s better than two legs? Four. And you can stick these extra two legs wantonly in rocks and mud, and use them to prevent getting smacked by a tree branch by the people walking in front of you. Buy them for $40 instead of $100.
• Water filter: Survivor Filter PRO. We ended up using this extensively, although the pump process is a little slow-going.
• Jetboil: Ok, popular brand-name things can be nice. I got this as a gift and it worked great.
• Utensils: Sea to Summit Delta Cutlery Set for $10.
• Food: Backpacker’s Pantry Dinners. For plant-based eaters like myself, the selection of freeze-dried vegan dinner picks is outstanding. I eschewed plating of any kind and ate directly out of the bag, hunched over in my seat and grunting like a caveman.
• Potty trowel: The Deuce Ultralight. For reasons.

Here is what I already owned and brought along:

• Headlamp.
• Solar-powered collapsible lantern.
• Knife.
• Daypack. Carry this around when you explore after setting up camp.
• Pillowcase. I stuff this with my clothes.
• Camp sandals. We hiked in through a creek, so it was nice to change into different dry shoes.
• Snacks. Snacks on snacks on snacks.
• Toothbrush and toiletries.
• Hat.
• First aid kit.
• Camera.
• Bag for garbage.

What I wish I had brought:

• Booze. Can someone figure out how to freeze-dry beer?
• Stuff sacks. As I got everything laid out, I discovered my need for sacks to combine and organize a lot of the little stuff I mentioned above.
• Bear cannister/rope. Luckily someone else had this and new how to use it.
• Water filter as a squeezable pouch. This is way faster and easier than a pump for filtration.

I didn’t need:

• So many clothes. I brought way too many for one night, and prepared for it to be much colder than it was. Limit yourself—clothes are bulky and you’re going to be smelly anyway, so just pack essentials.
• So much food. I guess it’s better to come over-prepared in this department, but remember that I brought snacks on snacks on snacks? I just probably needed ‘snacks.’

Pack and re-pack in advance

My husband wanted to dig right into stuffing in the goods. I wanted to prepare with videos and pictures of neatly arranged piles of things going in the bag. Turns out a combination of using your resources and trail-and-error works best.

I got a great tip from a gal on Youtube: For bags with a sleeping bag compartment at the bottom, there are pockets of space created on the sides for items like your Jetboil propane. We also learned about using the “brain” or top zip on your pack to hold necessities you need to access more quickly.

But it really comes down to your pack and your gear. It’s a puzzle of stuffing and swearing. Try it several times the night before you head out to get comfortable.

Settle in for the haul

The first time you swing your pack on and are embraced lovingly by the waist straps, don’t panic about the weight. Get situated, cinch everything tightly, and trust in the balance and weight distribution. My big realization was that after hiking with 25 extra pounds, you adjust after the first hour, or couple of miles.

This is your life now. You are a fearless packer, face set in grim determination with maybe a hint of a smile. You inspire awe into the families with little kids playing in the creek as you pass by (“so adventurous,” mutters mom). You swing your trekking poles to the rhythm coming from your group’s bluetooth speaker.

And, inexplicably, it’s almost harder to stop than it is to just keep hiking. We paused for a snack break and chance to soak in the cool creek, and hefting the bag off and on was worse than the actual trek. When we reached a potential camp spot and deliberated moving on to see what else was down the canyon, I just wanted to keep hiking. I was fueled with purpose, like how you give high-energy working dogs a pack to wear or something to pull.

But when you do finally stop for camp and dry out the back sweat, it feels oh so rewarding.

Keep it neat

Don’t play into the temptation to let things go while you’re at camp. You know what I mean. Clothes strewn everywhere inside the tent. A bag of toiletries dumped hastily to find your toothpaste. Compression sacks discarded into corners. How did a KIND bar wrapper get in here?

The more you stay on top of keeping your gear organized, the easier it will be to inevitably repack the beast on your back when you leave. This is why stuff sacks are so important.

Enjoy yourself

Open skies, plentiful stars, a full moon, friendly faces lit with fire, the constant shhhh of the distant creek. It’s camping, but you also just walked all your own stuff in here. That’s pretty awesome. Enjoy it, even without the cooler of beer or the Spikeball set.

Expect to be sore

Soreness sneaks up on you. You won’t even totally feel it the morning after your hike in. Your body accepts the now familiar weight of the pack and steps up for the challenge of returning. My greatest struggle was an exposed uphill climb in creeping afternoon temperatures, right before we hit the parking lot.

At this point I thought, “I did it.” When I emerged from my seat in the car after the three-hour drive back into civilization, my entire muscular system said, “Yeahhh, you did!” Our carload stumbled out with groans and pains in places previously unbeknownst to us. The weirdest bodily meltdown was the soreness in the crook of my arm from planting and plucking the trekking poles.

So don’t plan to do anything serious in the hours after you get back. Unless it’s sitting on your phone planning on where you want to go backpacking next.

Ha ha, you’re hooked.

LIFE’S A TRAIL…

So, every week I send out a fun & inspiring story to my subscribers in my newsletter, Trail Ratings. Get it!

The post Backpacking for Beginners: Takeaways from My First Trip appeared first on Roaming Hills.