How to Travel 18,000 Miles With Your Dog

We all have different variations of how we define “camping.” Here are five common ways to camp, and the best type of place to use each method in Central Texas. The below are rated in terms of difficulty and experience. If you are new to camping, start with glamping and then proceed up the numeric ladder. Or start where you feel comfortable, it's up to you! 1. Glamping Glamping in a teepee m01229 Don't want the ruggedness of really getting back to nature? Try glamping! Glamping means glamorous camping. Choose a  teepee , cabin,  yurt ,  railcar , or a permanent A-frame tent where (maybe) breakfast is served and the restrooms are nicer than the ones at home. Check out  Glamping Hub Texas for more options. There is a larger price tag associated with glamping because amenities such as food are often included. 2. Car Camping With car camping, you get the benefits of having a portable storage unit (your car) while still being outside. For your sleeping environment, you can either purchase a low-cost tent or sleep in your car or RV. You can always sleep in your tent and run back to your car once it starts getting too cold/hot/stormy/balmy/mosquitoey or when other campers start getting too loud. Most state and national parks have plenty of designated sites for car camping. Sites will vary by cost and whether or not they include potable water, electricity, and a restroom or latrine. Great places to car camp in central Texas include Pedernales, Garner, Inks Lake State Parks, plus Enchanted Rock and Lost Maples State Natural Area. But reserve early since parks book up quickly, sometimes up to six months out. 3. Outfitters Leaving the car camping world catapults you into the backpacking world. This enables you be mobile and explore more wilderness areas where less people are camping. Backpacking shows you nature scenes that you thought only possible in calendars and magazines. Outfitters typically provide gear, cook the food, and plan the route of your trip. This is a phenomenal, low cost way to test if you truly enjoy backpacking. Locals to Central Texas can try Backwoods Austin. 4. Backpacking with a tent, hammock, or tarp Tent camping at Big Bend Patrick Denker You have now crossed the threshold for "this is a serious hobby" and "yes, I would spend my vacation doing this."  Welcome ! Now that you are backpacking, you should consider weight as your top priority. Your 6-pound tent for car camping wasn't a big deal when you had a car to store it in. But when you have to carry that tent for 50 miles over the course 5 days (or longer!), then you start carefully analyzing each item that goes in your pack and and considering ways to shed needless weight. Since sleep systems are often some of the bulkier items, researching and investing in higher-end shelters is important. You can easily find tents, hammocks, and tarps that weight less than 2 pounds packed. You may also forego the tent altogether and just use the rain fly and footprint ("fast fly" system). Keep in mind though that there are tradeoffs for ultralightweight ("UL"). A UL shelter may not keep you dry in the rain and it might not block the wind from all angles in a bad windstorm. It's about finding the system that works best for you. 5. Cowboy Camping Texas heaven Gino Grasshopper, you are now what the sages call " hardcore ". Cowboy camping means sleeping under the stars without a shelter. Some long-distance hikers, such as those trekking the Pacific Crest Trail or Appalachian Trail, try to save weight by not carrying a tent. Cowboy camping works well when the weather is nice. Try cowboy camping in the spring when it is not too hot or cold and check the rain forecast. If you cowboy camp on a new moon and a clear night, you will get a perfect view of breathtaking stars without the light from the moon obstructing your view. When it's raining, you will probably get wet, unless you have a backup shelter or can find shelter under a tree or lean-to (see #4 Hammocks and Shelters).  I recommend cowboy camping if you are a backpacker with several long hikes under your belt. However you choose to camp in Central Texas, just do it. We have such prime open land, big skies, and beautiful waterways, and they're all worth experiencing. Your soul will thank you. Written by Christine Hersh for RootsRated.

For two years, I worked toward a lofty life dream: to outfit a van and drive from California to Patagonia. By last winter, plans were finally coming to fruition. I quit my job, my boyfriend and I set a date to move out of our house, and our van was, well, a work in progress. But one month before we planned to leave, he called it quits on the trip—and ended our three-year relationship. With no job, no place to live, and a travel dream that seemed impossible to pursue solo, I felt pretty lost to say the least. But I still had a van, a serious case of wanderlust, and a dog. So I rolled with the changes and started the adventure anyway, with my 30-pound heeler mix as co-pilot. Rodi “Rodrigo” Herzog came into my life about a year prior to it turning upside down. He’s the kind of dog that wins over hearts with his rugged good looks and shameless penchant for cuddling, then turns a few heads by charging down trails and practically levitating over boulders. If Rodi could survive a puppyhood wandering the plains of rural Nevada on his own, he could survive living in a van with me. But I was a bit less sure about my van. Less than a quarter of the way outfitted at the time I decided to take the trip solo, my Sprinter came with more than a few faults: shattered windshield, balding tires, two out of four functioning doors, and more dents than a recycled beer can. For three weeks I worked at an unrelenting pace to get that sucker running and built out with the poorly-leveled plywood that I now call home. Van mostly functional, dog always primed for adventure, Rodi and I set off for a road trip of undetermined length, unspecified time, and half-baked purpose. Instead of heading south to Latin America, I decided to start east and figure out the journey one step at a time. Ten months, 24 states, and two countries later, we’re still on the move and still happily unsure of when and where we’ll land next. Nonetheless, life on the road with Rodi has taught me a thing or two about, well, life. Here are some of the quirks and perks of embarking on this type of travel with a dog. Embrace the fact that your dog will likely be more popular than you. Rodi keeps a lookout in Mt. Rainier National Park. Jenna Herzog Unless you walk around the campground passing out free IPAs and down jackets, most people will find your dog to be far more interesting than you—and they will want to quiz you about him, pet him, and hang out with him. Countless times now I’ve waltzed through the routine: guess what breed my mutt is, ask me how old he is, tell me that he looks like a coyote. After enough of these casual encounters turning into friendships and climbing partnerships, I readily accept that Rodi is my better half, and that if people want to strike up conversation with me just to sneak a few cuddles with a cute pup, then so be it. One August evening, I rolled into Oregon’s Smith Rock State Park campground after six hours of driving. I was tired, hungry, and a little unsure if this pit stop on my way to Yosemite would be worth it. In my weary and cranky state, I wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed and scarf down a Clif bar for dinner. Van door open, I was left with nothing but the sound of Rodi’s tags as he trotted away, likely lured by the smell of roasting sausages. Wandering out by headlamp to retrieve my begging dog, I was greeted by Rodi’s new friends, a group of climbers quick to offer me a seat at the picnic table, complete with a beer and brat. The next afternoon, I found myself with no plans and no climbing partners, so I embarked on my usual routine of walking around the crag with Rodi. At the very least, I get to see the climbs and Rodi gets an always-appreciated walk. Tail wagging, Rodi charged ahead to the open arms of a guy sitting on a bench watching his two friends climb. A few minutes later I was tying my figure-eight and chalking up to climb with them. Without Rodi, I probably would have walked right by without a word, feeling too shy to ask if I could join their party of three. A couple months later, I’ve now shared summits in three different states with one of the climbers I met that day—all thanks to my dog. Don’t swear off all national parks. Rodi has a dog’s eye view of some stunning alpine lakes in California. Jenna Herzog National parks in the U.S. are generally not the best places to go gallivanting around with a dog. In my experience, it all comes down to taking the time to research where a dog can and can’t go within a park’s boundaries and weighing that against what I hope to do while I’m there. Take Yosemite, for example. Since I spend most of my time traveling to rock climb, it’s no surprise that this park runs high on my list. My first time going to Yosemite Valley with Rodi, I had little faith that he could endure the place for long. Thankfully, I found that the paved walkways in the valley offer plenty of opportunity for scenic dog walks, albeit usually in the dark after I finish climbing for the day. And driving outside of the park to camp every night gives Rodi enough space to let out excess energy, which is well worth the few extra dollars in gas. Meanwhile, the much less-crowded Badlands National Park in South Dakota boasted one of the best camping deals for budget-conscious and dog-owning travelers: a wide open field with free camping where Rodi was welcome to enjoy the views too. If all else fails, the surrounding towns near national parks usually offer at least one option for doggy daycare or overnight lodging. Places like these have saved me a few headaches, allowing me to explore national parks for a day or two without worrying about Rodi. Know what your dog is capable of—and what’s too much. Rodi takes a break on one of his many trips up Stawamus Chief in Squamish, British Columbia. Jenna Herzog This is undoubtedly the biggest lesson I’ve learned overall as a dog owner, and one that Rodi and I regularly consolidate through experiences on the road. I’ve been able to travel with very few dog-related challenges not because Rodi is the perfect dog, but because I know his needs, fears, and tendencies. Knowing what Rodi can handle has made our travels run smoothly, and testing what Rodi can handle has made for good stories (and plenty of lessons learned). The time when a cop came knocking on the van door to tell us to move from our not-so-stealth and not-so-legal camping spot in small-town Montana, it was clear that Rodi’s Mom!-Alert!-Danger! howl was imminent. One stern stare and a whispered command to stay quiet was (surprisingly) all he needed to curl back up in his bed and let me do the talking. Afternoons spent romping around climbing crags in Utah? No problem. Tagging along for a few drinks at a bar in Tennessee? He’d never complain about that. Packrafting down Class II rapids in Colorado? Achievable and hilarious, but not his favorite. Attempting a Tyrolean traverse over a 200-foot-wide river with Rodi in a backpack? Well, that was a one-time thing. Accept that sometimes it takes a village. Proof that dogs get all the attention during a climbing session in Squamish, British Columbia. Jenna Herzog Taking care of a dog while constantly managing every other aspect of my nomadic life can get a little taxing without a travel partner. But, like most single dog moms and dads out there, I make it happen. The important thing I’ve realized is that most other travelers have a Vitamin D(og) deficiency, and since Rodi is friendly and generally low-maintenance, I’m doing them a favor by letting him fill that void. In Squamish, British Columbia, for example, my sights were set on multi-pitch climbs that required being off the ground for up to 10 hours at a time—too long to leave Rodi alone in the van. In these times of need, I turned to my community of fellow van-, truck-, and tent-dwelling climbers for a little help. It usually wouldn’t take more than five minutes of walking around the campground or the climbing area parking lots to find a group of new friends willing to hang out with Rodi for the day. They got to enjoy cuddles with my pup in between pitches at the crag; I had peace of mind knowing that Rodi wasn’t roasting away in our metal box of a home under the afternoon sun. Don’t leave home without ‘em. Rodi feeling right at home at the base of a climb near Moab, Utah. Jenna Herzog In the last 48 hours before leaving home, I wasn’t fantasizing about dream destinations, fretting over my lack of a steady job, or cursing how much cash I just dropped on new tires. Rather, my mind spun in circles wondering if it were smart, safe, or even possible to bring Rodi on the trip. I struggled to imagine how he would fit into my new, very uncertain lifestyle. Now, almost a year and more than 18,000 miles later, Rodi has been there with me through it all, never once back-seat driving, complaining about a camping spot, or getting grumpy after a few too many days without a shower. To me, he’s the ideal travel partner. On a deeper level, I credit Rodi with giving me the extra edge of confidence and much-needed companionship that has made it possible for me to travel “solo” for months on end. So here’s to Rodi, the pup whose playful spirit and unwavering affection helped push me out the door and into a life of adventure at a time when I had nothing to lose. Written by Jenna Herzog for RootsRated.

Southern California is a hotbed of geothermal activity and plate tectonics, which can have the effect of creating an ever-creeping dread of the inevitable earthquake. But instead of living in perpetual fear of the “Big One”, outdoor-loving types in SoCal can take advantage of the plus side of an active geothermal region—proximity to an abundance of hot springs. And—bonus for backpackers—several of these magical spots are only accessible via hardy hikes, which is a great way to weed out hordes of tourists, not to mention beckon a worthy reward for miles on the trail and the resulting achy muscles. So, for a resplendent escape from the sprawl and bustle of the Los Angeles area, grab your backpack and bathing suit and hit the trail to explore these four incredible hot springs in Southern California—Mother Nature’s best day spas. 1. Sespe Hot Springs Just two hours from Los Angeles, the Sespe Hot Springs feel worlds away. Kara Kieffer Located just two hours from Los Angeles, north of the vineyard town of Ojai, Sespe Hot Springs are tucked deep into the Sespe Wilderness. Despite their proximity to a major metropolitan area, these hot springs feel indefinitely wild. The Sespe Wilderness area features soaring white sandstone cliffs, long bare bluffs, and Sespe Creek cutting through the center. This area is also home to bighorn sheep, mountain lions, and some of the last remaining condors in California. The springs themselves bubble from the rock face at several points along the valley floor. The farther you walk up valley, the hotter the springs will be—until you reach the top spring, which boasts some of the hottest water in California. (It’s been measured at 194 degrees Fahrenheit, so be sure to dip in a toe beforehand to avoid a serious scalding.) The tubs at Sespe are built into the creek with natural stones that form small pools. Find your ideal soaking spot by scouting down creek until the temperature is just right. Set up camp along the sandy valley floor near the water. Getting into Sespe Hot Springs provides its own fun challenge. The most straightforward way is to hike 19.5 miles from the Piedra Blanca trailhead on the western side of the wilderness. This route passes by the disappointing Willet Hot Spring—a rubber cistern in the ground that’s filled with algae—as it follows the Sespe Creek. While this route is by far the longest, it has minimal elevation gain and access to water almost constantly. An alternate (and more fun) route is to follow the Johnson Ridge Trail from the northern trailhead. This route follows an exposed ridge 9.5 miles down to the hot springs, giving hikers a commanding view of the Sepse area, a downhill approach to the springs, and nearly half the distance. However, the Johnson Ridge Trailhead must be reached by the unpaved Grade Road, which may cause some sedans to struggle (an SUV or all-wheel-drive vehicle is a better choice.). Plan your visit during the fall through spring, as the summer months can be brutally hot. 2. Iva Bell Hot Springs A moderate hike will lead you to six pools of the Iva Belle Hot Springs, located near Mammoth Lakes. Kara Kieffer Sprinkled outside of Mammoth Lakes, these are perhaps some of the most well-developed backcountry hot springs, with everything needed for a great weekend retreat. Six pools are scattered around numerous flat camping areas complete with their own fire pits; a year-round creek tumbles through camp, too. The Iva Bell springs are delightfully free of any eggy sulfuric smell, with clear water, and temperatures in the low 100s. The springs cascade down a hill in disjointed pods with the upper springs the smallest and least developed but hottes. The three lower pools are large enough to fit eight people each, with water that comes to about mid-thigh. Plan your trip for the summer months as the road the Red’s Meadow is closed during the winter. Remember that permits are required, but there are also a handful of walkup day permits you can snag at the Mammoth Visitors Center. From Mammoth Lakes, take the $7 Red’s Meadow shuttle and get off at the last (#10) stop at Red’s Meadow. Leaving Red’s, you will follow the Carter Creek Trail 11 miles as it first winds its way along granite hills, before dropping almost 1,000 feet into deep forest as you descend toward Fish Creek Valley. Once you’ve reached the creek, follow the trail left up the valley to reach the springs after another three miles. These springs are accessible year round, though they are easiest to access during the spring through early fall months. 3. Jordan Hot Springs Jordan Hot Springs is serene nowadays, despite being a developed resort prior to 1990. Kara Kieffer Jordan Hot Springs stands unique among its backpacker-only brethren for being the only hot spring on this list that was once a developed resort. Prior to 1990 and the creation of the Golden Trout Wilderness, visitors could pay to have themselves and their stuff shuttled down to the hot springs via horseback. But now the only way in is hiking. To access Jordan Hot Springs, start at the Black Rock ranger station on the southern end of the Golden Trout Wilderness. From the ranger station, follow signs six miles and 3,000 feet down, through pine forest that meanders along a creek. Once the trail begins to mellow you’ll come out into a clearing that has a large fire pit and several dilapidated buildings from the time the spring was a commercial venture. From the campground, the springs are just a few hundred feet down the trail. They are made up of a seven-person pool, a warmer single-person pool, and a trough that’s perfect for washing your feet in. Spring and fall are the best times to visit, with a small crowd likely on busy weekends. 4. Kern River Hot Spring The Kern River Hot Spring is an outdoor paradise: a single spring flowing into three pools along the shores of the Kern River, below massive towering cliffs surrounded by a thick forest of pine trees, with waters ranging from 100-115 degrees, situated along the shores of the Kern River. But it also requires some serious effort to get to. Furthermore, in researching these springs online you’ll find many people pointing to the Remington Hot Springs, which—aside from being the wrong springs—are often crowded, situated right along a road, and can attract some less-than-savory characters. The most popular way to get to the Kern River Hot Springs is by hiking the High Sierra Trail hitting the springs along the halfway point of your trek around mile 36. However, if doing a 72-mile thru hike of the HST isn’t feasible, there is another way to approach the springs. The shortest means of getting into the Kern River Hot Springs is via a 20-mile hike—with close to 6,00 feet of gain—departing from Mineral King Ranger station, heading over Franklyn Pass, and then descending along Rattlesnake Creek toward the Kern River and following the river to the hot springs. While getting to the Kern River Hot Springs is by no means an easy feat, the scenery alone, especially around Mineral King, is an enticing way to explore some of the lesser explored sections of Sequoia National Park. This hike requires a permit, which can be reserved online through the National Park Service, or can be obtained as a walk-up permit. The best window for attempting this hike is late spring through early fall, when you can take advantage of the warmer temperatures and the snow-free trail. Written by Kara Kieffer for RootsRated.

Neighboring Boulder might steal a lot of the spotlight as a trail running mecca, but The Mile-High City is one of the top running towns in the country, too. Denver boasts 300 days of sunshine, friendly neighborhoods, breathtaking views to the west, and easy access to paved and dirt trails literally out the back door. It's also renowned for its gorgeous urban parks and trail systems that spider out from downtown following the rivers, creeks, and canals that helped build this great city. These trails provide an excellent option to pounding pavement, without leaving the city (with the exception of one). Sure, you may have to cross some roads to get there, and some of these groovy jaunts give you the option to pound the bike path as well, but rest assured you’ve got plenty of dirt to dig without having to go far. Washington Park Washington Park is a supremely popular spot for a trail run. Jeffrey Beall Yes, trail running is legitimate at Denver’s Wash Park, and some even say “jogging” in Denver was born here in the early 1970s. A flat, 2.6-mile dirt trail (adjacent to a paved trail) encircles 155 acres of fields and gently wooded spaces with two ponds, tennis courts, basketball courts and a fitness course. It’s extremely dog friendly (as long as they are leashed) and you’ll see many outdoor group fitness classes training in the mornings and evening, as well as a major volleyball contingent. Just don’t expect to get a lot of alone time here, as it’s a splendidly social running scene. Wash Park is at the intersection of Downing and Louisiana on the northwest corner, where you’ll find plenty of street parking. Cherry Creek, Clear Creek, and South Platte River Trails Confluence Park is awesome for trail running. Ken Lund All of these urban gems are widely known for both road running and bicycling, but they bear mentioning as three of the best trail runs near downtown Denver as well. Accessible from almost anywhere in the city, Cherry Creek Trail runs from downtown at Confluence Park (the confluence with the South Platte River) for 40 miles all the way out to Cherry Creek Reservoir. Any ultra runners out there can then do a lap around trails in lovely Cherry Creek Reservoir State Park, a major trail running destination on its own, before heading back into town. Beginning at Confluence Park, you can run the Platte River Trail either north or south: Both directions feature a dirt track adjacent to the bike path. You can also run all the way to Chatfield Reservoir south of the city for beautiful open spaces and views. Note that the Platte River Trail becomes the Mary Carter Greenway past West Dartmouth Avenue, where you’ll have even more peaceful views. Turn around at Chatfield State Park, and you'll have 30 miles to run (should you want to go that far) north to where the South Platte River meets Clear Creek. Clear Creek Trail, which is also a bike path with plenty of quality dirt track, leads all the way to Golden. Be sure and catch the left hand turn past the Sand Creek Trail turnoff just after the bridge. All three of these offer trails runners a sense of nature as well as adventure in the heart of Denver. They're not exactly hidden gems, but at times you’ll find more solitude than you'd expect, along with wildlife and the sound of waters rushing alongside. The High Line Canal The High Line was completed in 1883 and is designated a National Landmark Trail, a true in-town treasure. The High Line Canal stretches 66 miles through Denver, allowing any variety of distances. To get there, make your way to Mamie D. Eisenhower Park, roughly in the middle of this historic pathway that runs from Cherry Creek to Chatfield Reservoir. Head south through Magna Park, Three Pond Park, and Dahila Hollow Park and continue to the Marjorie Perry Nature Preserve. Or, head north and wind through the University Hills and Cherry Creek neighborhoods. (Burs on the trail can get stuck in your dog’s paws and fur and in your shoelaces, so look out for this common occurrence at any disturbed/regrowth area like a canal trail.) Alderfer/Three Sisters A short drive from Denver, the town of Evergreen has plenty of trails to choose from. Rob Lee A short drive up I-70 (about 30 miles) brings you to the old-school mountain town of Evergreen and the Alderfer/Three Sisters Park. This once-working ranch now offers 15 miles of trails for trail running, hiking, biking and a bouldering area. The winding collection of trails can be a bit confusing. A good place to begin is at the East Trailhead, where you can choose from six intertwining trails, from a moderate 3-mile run or a more aggressive 15-mile trek. Like most foothills runs, expect wildflowers, wildlife, and sunshine. When you’re done dusting up the trail, head back into historic downtown Evergreen to visit the famed Little Bear, a dusty biker bar with decades of bras strung from the ceiling. Mathews/Winters Park You get perfect views of Red Rocks from Mathews/Winters trails. David Keyzer Always a classic and within easy distance of downtown, Mathews/Winters Park, nestled alongside Red Rocks Park and amphitheater, is a must do for locals and out-of-towners alike. Just off I-70, it offers an escape from the hustle and bustle of downtown Denver. Take the first right into the well-marked parking lot, where you can stretch and ensure your water is full and sunscreen is on, because once you cross the stream, it’s a pretty exposed run. The path quickly connects with Red Rocks Trail; run it to the end and return back along the Morrison Slide Trail to check off 6.5 miles. Beware of rattlesnakes and signs indicating usage for bikes and horses. Right down the street from this trail-running mecca is the Apex Trail, accessed from the Heritage Square parking lot off Highway 93 just north of I-70.   Written by Aaron Bible for RootsRated.