Quandary Peak - Your First Winter 14er

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.

Hot springs usually fall into one of two categories: unmaintained, dug out pools overcrowded with local enthusiasts, or developed resorts, complete with showers, restaurants, and concrete. The former can be a gamble—hot springs are a natural petri dish for a variety of diseases (such as E. coli). But the latter can too often feel like a theme park or the spa at a local gym. Finding a hot spring with a natural feel that isn’t also risking your health can be a challenge. Here in Western Washington we are lucky enough to have Goldmyer Hot Springs, a tiny, steaming oasis in the middle of the Cascades’ temperate rainforests. On the way to the hot springs. Laura Lancaster Goldmyer was a popular tourist destination in the early part of the 20th century, but was abandoned in the 1960s after extensive flooding. After decades of neglect and overuse, the former owners donated the land to the Northwest Wilderness Programs, who restored and today manage the springs, employing rotating caretakers to process visitors and maintain the pools (including bi-weekly cleanings). From the caretaker’s cabin, visitors climb up through a canopy of ancient old growth—douglas firs, western hemlocks, and pacific silver firs—toward the sound of a roaring waterfall. Getting closer. Laura Lancaster Rounding the corner of a steep precipice brings the springs into view where there's an opening of a cave, framed with moss and ferns, with steaming water spilling out into two lower pools. Nearby is the cabana, a rustic, open-air structure, perfect for grabbing a quick bite to eat or changing out of sweaty hiking clothes. The pool furthest from the cave is the coolest—about 104 degrees with the temperatures rising to a steaming 111 degrees Fahrenheit inside the cave. Those who make it to the back of the cave are well-rewarded: a simple bench at the end far of the cave is perfect for enjoying the sauna-like atmosphere. A third pool, fed by an ice cold stream, quickly cools down any overheated bathers, leaving behind skin that is tingling and refreshed. Five miles from the nearest forest service road, Goldmyer is close enough to civilization for easy access by dedicated weekend warriors, but logistically complicated enough to dissuade Instagram addicts. (Although, speaking frankly, it’s probably best to leave your camera at home for this one: Goldmyer is clothing optional, and most days find a mix of bathers in swimsuits and in the nude.) Plan your Trip Today Goldmyer in all its modest yet welcoming glory. hundertmorgen_ Visitors are limited to 20 per day to ensure that Goldmyer remains pristine for years to come. This limit is strictly enforced, so you'll need to make a reservation in advance to ensure that you aren’t turned away at the gates. While many visitors will choose to hike out after an afternoon of soaking, overnight camping is also available for an additional $5. Note that campfires are not permitted on the Goldmyer premises. Getting There You're in the right place. Laura Lancaster _NOTE: Conditions change frequently along the Middle Fork of the Snoqualmie. Check the Goldmyer website for the most up-to-date travel info. _ There are multiple access points for Goldmyer Hot Springs, so choose the right one for your experience and fitness level. 1. A long, difficult drive followed by a short, easy hike. Drive east from Seattle on I-90 and take exit 34, just past North Bend. Turn left onto 468th Street and drive north for a half mile. Turn right onto the Middle Fork Road and travel 9 miles (the paved road will turn to gravel and then dirt) to the Middle Fork campgrounds. Just after the campground, look for a dirt road heading uphill to the right. Follow this road another five miles until you reach the Dingford Creek Trailhead. This last road is minimally maintained, and a number of washouts over the years have made it impassable to all but high clearance, four wheel drive vehicles. Do not attempt this road if your car has low clearance. From the Dingford Creek Trailhead, hike the old road 4.5 miles to a marked intersection. Take the right fork, following the signs to Goldmyer Hot Springs, cross over the river, and hike up a short hill to the caretaker's cabin to check in. 2. A short, easy drive followed by a long, difficult hike. Drive I-90 east from Seattle and take exit 52 at Snoqualmie Pass. Drive under the overpass and continue on for about a mile until you reach the parking lot for the Snow Lake Trailhead near the Alpental ski resort. Hike the Snow Lake Trail 3.2 miles to the intersection on the far side of the lake. Take the Rock Creek Trail, heading downhill and to the right. The trail here, while well maintained, is significantly more rugged than the popular Snow Lake Trail, crisscrossing talus fields before switchbacking 4 miles down to the intersection with the Middle Fork Trail. Turn right and follow the Middle Fork Trail 2.5 miles until you reach Burnboot creek. Carefully cross the three downed logs that serve as a foot bridge. On the other side of the creek are signs directing you toward the caretaker’s cabin. 3. A short, easy drive and hike followed by some serious bushwhacking. This one is only for hikers experienced in route finding. After exiting I-90 at Snoqualmie Pass, follow signs for the PCT (between Alpental and The Summit) that lead to the trailhead for the PCT out of Snoqualmie Pass. Follow the trail for 2.5 miles until you reach a fork. Take the Commonwealth Basin Trail to the left to its end at Red Pass. This is where things get a little interesting. The trail below is where the Pacific Crest Trail ran before it was rerouted over the Kendall Katwalk. From Red Pass, pass by the “trail not maintained beyond this point sign” and hike 3.5 miles down a steep slope into lush old growth. The trail will eventually run alongside Burnboot Creek, leading you to the log crossing to Goldmyer along the Middle Fork Trail. The tiny, yet wonderful Goldmyer Hot Springs. Laura Lancaster All in all a visit to Goldmyer Hot Springs isn't some epic backcountry excursion. But if you're looking for a relaxing soak in nature without the crowds and with the chance to camp overnight, this is a super special place tucked into the Alpine Lakes Wilderness. Oh, and you're right next to a gorgeous, roaring waterfall the entire time. It really doesn't get any better than this. Written by Laura Lancaster for RootsRated.

No season in North America packs a punch like winter, which means no season inspires such verging-on-religious gratitude like spring. As the equinox approaches, outdoor lovers can savor the vernal unfolding by spotlighting a few noteworthy natural harbingers. Of course, some of the best-known signs of the season include deafening spring-peeper choruses out East, desert superblooms in the Southwest, and early-flowering trilliums all over, to name a few. But what about some of the lesser-known phenomena those hitting the spring trails or waterways might come across—the swarthy swamp-cabbage, for example, or even a snake or two? Here, nature’s extra-special ways of signaling that spring is on the way. The Magic of Snowmelt How cold would you guess that water is? Anita Ritenour So snowmelt may seem an overly obvious sign of spring, but many outdoor enthusiasts don’t really pay it much mind, focusing instead on flashier symptoms of the season like flower petals and singing birds. But melting snow creates its own beautiful spectacles—and stark hazards—so backcountry ramblers should keep a respectful eye on the snowmelt. Wandering a thawing-out snowscape is tough and wet work, but it’s cool to see up-close: meltwater channels among (and within) the drifts; frigid pools and rills at snowfield rims; gleaming firnspiegel ("snow mirror") expanses where an icy lid overlays a melting subsurface. Snowmelt also behaves differently around trees, with those iconic “thaw circles” of bare ground around their bases. They’re formed because tree trunks absorb more solar radiation than the reflective snowpack and cause the snow around them to change directly to water vapor, or sublimate, which creates pits and then thaw circles. (In deciduous woods, they may be important green-up sites for early spring ephemeral wildflowers.) There’s peril, too, amid this ongoing, often stop-and-start thaw. Statistically speaking, this is the most dangerous avalanche season, given springtime’s lengthening days, freeze-thaw cycles, and percolating, destabilizing meltwater—not to mention the burgeoning numbers of backcountry users. Of course, snowmelt time also means high-volume, supercharged rivers that are hazardous—often impossible—to cross. But as long you’re steering clear of them via sensible safety practices, you can appreciate the temporary scars of those wet slab avalanches on the slopes and the roar of the barreling meltwater rivers as evidence of a landscape waking up. The Buzz of Bumblebees It’s not all about chirping birds: Buzzing bees make themselves heard in spring, too. manyamoon Their large size, heavy coat of bristles, and ability to shiver to warm up flight muscles mean bumblebees kick off the pollinating season early—you may even spot them careening around on a warm late winter’s day. In leafless woods that are still mostly clad in winter gray or brown, a big bumblebee makes a highly conspicuous harbinger of spring on its noisy, drunken-looking flightpath. The Curious Skunk Cabbage in Bloom It’s not quite as cheerful as wildflowers, but the flowering of the skunk-cabbage is nevertheless a harbinger of spring. Aaron Carlson Whether in a sodden hollow in the eastern backwoods or a red cedar swamp in the Pacific Northwest, spring comes early, bold, and almost unsettling with the flowering of the giant wetland herb called skunk cabbage. A bit of botanical background on this stinky plant: The eastern and western versions aren’t closely related, though both brandish huge, tropical-style leaves. In addition, the flower structures that often precede the glossy foliage—some of the first blooms of spring—differ. Eastern skunk cabbage shields its flower stalk within an infernal-looking hood—technically speaking, a spathe—of mottled purple; the western skunk cabbage’s spathe is a comparatively cheerful banana-yellow. The namesake skunky odor of these plants when blooming attracts flies and beetles, adding a distinct seasonal scent to the bottomlands. The Flutter of Spring Wings Once you know how to spot an osprey, you’ll be able to see them much more easily—especially during the springtime. Stephanie Pluscht Birds epitomize springtime like nothing else for many people: the pulses of migrants large and small through backyards and local wetlands, the riotous symphonies of love-crazy songbirds. Birders, naturally, love this time of year. But even outdoorsy types who don’t know a wren from a warbler can key into the vernal onset by watching for some of the big high-flying raptors clocking back to their breeding grounds. A slew of hawks appear in the Lower 48 this time of year, including a handful of relatively easily distinguishable species just about anybody can learn to recognize—two of them found across most of the conterminous U.S. and an exotic third one outdoors folks in the Southeast may luck out and see. Keep your eyes out for ospreys, those hook-footed "fish hawks" (or “seahawks,” for all you 12s out there) that winter in the Neotropics and far southern U.S. but start returning to North American waterways in spring to reoccupy or build their massive stick nests. Ospreys are easy to identify with a little practice: They’re big and slender, boldly black-and-white plumaged, and flap a lot in a jouncy, almost bat-like sort of flight. Watch one long enough and you’ll probably see its steep fishing dive. One unexpected winged sign of spring is that dark, tottering, low-angled V up in the sky made by a recently returned turkey vulture. These sharp-nosed "buzzards"—which evacuate much of the central and northern U.S. in winter, but often return on the early end of things—get a bad rap. But in addition to performing essential scavenger duties across their vast range, they give daily master classes in the art of soaring with minimal effort. Meanwhile, if you’re down in the Everglades or elsewhere in the Florida wilds in February and March, you may luck out with a glimpse of arguably the handsomest raptor in the Americas, if not the world: the swallow-tailed kite. These impossibly graceful black-and-white tropical birds, named for their extravagant scissored tailfeathers, return to the Sunshine State from South America this time of year to nest, and it’s always a thrill to see one looping over the jungle hammocks and pinelands. Serpent Emergence Watch where you sss-tep. Brian Greer Many species of snakes in middle and higher latitudes spend the winter in communal hibernacula, which are essentially snake dens. It’s not unusual for overwintering membership to run into the hundreds, and for multiple species of snakes—garter snakes, bullsnakes, racers, rattlesnakes—to share the same hibernaculum. In spring, snakes gradually emerge from these winter refuges, often situated in outcrops, talus, rock piles, or caves, and spend a few days or weeks basking on sunny warm afternoons before retreating back inside at night. While you’re out on an early spring hike, you might spot such lethargic serpents, possibly in intimidating quantity. Appreciate them from a distance, leave them alone, and they’ll do the same. Emergence from hibernacula tends to roll right into romance. You may also see "breeding balls" of snakes this time of year, made up of multiple males coiled around an impressively stoic female. Written by Ethan Shaw for RootsRated.