Quandary Peak - Your First Winter 14er

Every river forms its own world. Every waterway has a different character—from the gentle creek near where I grew up to the wild and scenic rivers of the American West. As anyone who loves waterways knows: Rivers can transport us, both physically and mentally, to new places. The Lower Canyons of the Rio Grande are home to some of the most remote waters in the lower 48. Fifteen hundred foot canyon walls, weather-stained by millennia, create twilight far before sunset. Between the canyons, the Chihuahuan Desert wraps between weathered buttes and tumbled outcroppings. The river, dusky with sediment, curls through it all. My friends and I put on the Rio Grande at Heath Canyon in January 2017. Over the course of a morning, gear exploded out of the minivan before slowly finding its way into dry bags and onto packrafts. Everyone packed slowly, eyeing one another’s gear choices, asking unanswerable questions. “Do I really need a rain jacket?” “I don’t need this many batteries for my camera,” I said. I did not bring enough batteries. “How many fleeces do I really need?” said Robby, who needed to borrow layers throughout the trip. We wanted a wilderness experience, to be surrounded by the desert and reliant on the river. Within a few hours, we found what we were looking for. The desert sun poured down, and the canyon walls rose around us almost immediately. Day 1—entering the first canyons. Richard Forbes The plan was to run 84-miles of river over the course of eleven days. It can be done far faster, but we weren’t looking to hurry. We floated for long stretches without paddling, surrounded by the quiet enormity of a desert river. We took rest days and explored dry side canyons. We spent long hours around campfires catching up and talking about the future. We took our sweet time, much like the river itself. The Rio Grande, through the Lower Canyons, is not a fast river. There are, on average, only one or two rapids per day, though small riffles form at every riverbend. We didn’t bring any research on the rapids, preferring to blindly read and run. Thundering water reverberated off the canyon walls, warning us about each rapid long before we arrived. We would run them one at a time, paddles thrashing, our packrafts bucking through rocky chutes. While most canoe the Lower Canyons (or raft at higher water), we were continually glad to have the more maneuverable packrafts. At 600 cfs (cubic feet per second), they allowed us to run rapids that we would have needed to portage with any other boat. Between the rapids, the river forms gently flowing flatwater lined almost entirely by river cane. This invasive river cane (Arundo donax) is a recent addition to the area and at its worst, siphons off up to 30% of the Rio Grande’s flow and forms an impenetrable barrier along both banks, often reaching 10 feet into the river. Once in place, it locks sediment into the banks and gradually straightens and constricts the river channel. For boaters, the river cane is changing the landscape along the river. Several evenings, we found ourselves forced to stay on the river past sunset before we could find an opening in the cane to make camp. Texan authorities are beginning to discuss ways to control the cane, but until they find a large scale solution, don’t plan to be picky on which campsites you choose. Day 3—the river cutting through the cane. Richard Forbes Deep in the canyons, we’d form small flotillas or drift along separately, sinking into the reverie of a river trip. But we couldn’t leave the outside world behind. One side is Mexico, the other is the United States. The border is an invisible presence, without fences and signs. The deepest channel of the Rio Grande marks the border along the southern edge of Texas (forming almost two-thirds of the total US-Mexican border) as it flows through urban jungles and remote desert canyons. On paper, boaters are not supposed to cross to the opposite side except in emergency situations. But during our 11 days on the river, we each made countless unauthorized crossings, from lunch breaks to campsites. While the cane often gave us no choice on where we’d sleep, the border, like many things in the backcountry, came to feel arbitrary. On the river, facing downstream, left was the US, right was Mexico. But if the river stopped flowing, we’d have had no idea which country was which. Day 5—near the hot springs. Richard Forbes When we told our friends and families about our plan to float along the border, their first questions were almost always, “is it safe?” These worries are legitimate. Drug smuggling occurs along the entire border, and the Lower Canyons are no different. But all of the locals we spoke to felt safe. Marcos, a retired park ranger, lives only a few miles from the border and has never used his house keys. Keith, a boatman who has floated the Lower Canyons 57 times, said his closest calls were not drug smugglers but an infected cut and an aggressive mountain lion. On our trip, we saw only three people in 11 days, all on the last day, who ended up inviting us to their fishing camp for a catfish fry. The most dangerous part of the Lower Canyons is not the border, but the isolation. To float the Lower Canyons is to be utterly alone. Visitors to this area must be competent and self-sufficient. My friends and I have years worth of combined backcountry experience, and are all certified in wilderness medicine. If something had gone wrong on our trip, there would have been very few opportunities for rescue. Day 6—a quiet float on the Rio Grande. Richard Forbes It’s impossible to talk about the Lower Canyons of the Rio Grande without mentioning the proposed border wall. As surreal as it may seem, the American government has already conducted a bidding process, and roughly 20 companies will soon begin building prototypes in San Diego. This hypothetical wall could not be built in the river, nor between the river and the canyon walls. Instead, it would have to be built in the United States, up on the mesa, between all but a few Americans and the awe inspiring Lower Canyons, making recreational access difficult if not impossible. There are many reasons to oppose the wall, ranging from humanitarian and ethical concerns to environmental conservation. A wall would require absurdly massive infrastructure development in such a fragile area, necessitating work camps and new access roads. In building such infrastructure, a unique desert ecosystem would be fragmented, jeopardizing hundreds of endangered and threatened animals and plants. Multiple locals informed us that, “There are already walls along the border, and they’re 1,500 feet tall” and “We don’t need a wall, we need more bridges”. Day 8—drifting in the twilight. Richard Forbes Day after day, my friends and I floated through the desolate desert, seemingly empty but bursting with life. From the water, we looked up at the wilderness surrounding us, our boats gently turning in the breeze, any ideas of the wall distant and incomprehensible. Somewhere beneath us, in the muddy water, lay the border, impossible to ignore and impossible to see. Something so important feels like it should be visible. But what should it look like? A 30 foot concrete wall? A fence with “keep out” signs and razor wire? Or maybe a river, flooding and receding through the seasons, overrunning its banks and changing its course, is the best marker for the border, and ought to teach us a lesson. The border isn’t a line on a map. The border is a region and a state of mind. And the border is worth visiting, if just for a short time. On day 9, we decided to do a night float. We relaxed all day and put on the river in the late afternoon. We floated for a few hours before making a leisurely dinner on a warm boulder in the sun. A herd of desert bighorn precariously picked their way along the opposite canyon wall. The world sank into twilight, then into night. Soon after, the moon came up. We climbed into our boats and pushed off into the black. We turned off our headlamps. Thick clouds passed over the moon, throwing shadows and deeper darkness. We navigated by sound, the cool breeze rustling the river cane, the water lapping against our packrafts. I knew my friends were all within a few hundred feet, but I still felt utterly alone. No one spoke. Animals scurried through the underbrush along the river. The boat lurched and accelerated down a small rapid I couldn’t see. I fought off the urge to turn on my headlamp. Waves splashed my hands. The canyon walls were black against the stars. I floated between the United States and Mexico. Disoriented by the darkness, I finally forgot about the border and about the greater world in general. There was only the river, curling through the desert. If you’re interested in learning more about our trip, the Lower Canyons, and the border wall, feel free to check out my website, where I’m working on a documentary. Details for the trip, because they can be hard to find: Seasonality: October to May (the highest water is in the fall). Don’t do it in the summer. Miles: 84 Days necessary: 7 or longer Whitewater: III+ to IV depending on flow Water: Drink out of the Rio Grande and fill up at seasonal springs along the river. River Flow: Check the Rio Grande Village USGS water gauge. Over 200 cfs is easily runnable, over 1000 is high water and might be safer in a larger raft. Put in: Heath Canyon (private land owned by Heath Canyon Ranch). In 2017, fees were ~$10 for access, ~$5 a day for parking. Take out: Dryden Crossing (private land owned by Harrison Ranch - contact Jon Tom Lowrance). In 2017, fees were $30 per vehicle and $10 per person. Shuttle: 4 hours (160 miles), involving some rough dirt roads near the takeout. Various shuttles are available, all for over $300, which may be worth it, as most waive the private land access fees. Permitting: $12 backcountry use permit available at any visitor center in Big Bend National Park. Hot Springs: Can be found immediately after Hot Springs Rapid (mile 40.7) on the Mexican side. Pro tip: Fish for catfish using a plastic bottle with a handle, attached with strong line or cord to a big hook covered in “stinkbait”. Throw it in the river before you set off every day. It’ll get stuck in the cane constantly, but if you’re patient, you’ll catch a catfish and can have an unforgettable dinner. List of Required Items: Personal Flotation (PFD’s) for each participant and one extra 1 extra paddle per raft, 1 extra paddle total if canoeing or kayaking Human waste management system Patch kit (if in inflatables) Fire pan with 2 inch minimum rim Trash management system

People like their seashores. They always have. The biophilia hypothesis even suggests we’ve got an intrinsic attraction to the coast, perhaps because of how fertile this threshold tends to be: Across human history, living’s often been easy here (relatively speaking), what with all the clams, fish, bird and turtle eggs, seaweed, and beached whales to feast on. Whether it’s an evolutionary deal or not, sand and surf certainly casts a powerful spell over us. Of course, this also means your average coastline tends to be thronged and shackled. Big harbor cities, resort towns, highways, swarmed beaches, jetties, and breakwaters and riprap: That’s often the look of the littoral in the United States. But there are places where the roughness of the shore, the roughness of the sea, or some farsighted conservation efforts have thwarted development and left a primeval frontier of terra firma and saltwater. For the backpacker or paddler, the wilderness coasts below—some of the most back-of-beyond in America—offer the rare chance to explore places where the land margin holds a magnificent mirror up to the inherent wildness of heaving swells and roaring breakers. Obligatory Alaska Disclaimer Any roundup of U.S. wilderness reckons with the scale of it in Alaska as compared to the rest of the country, and this here seacoast survey isn’t any different. We’re excluding the Last Frontier from the discussion, only because otherwise we’d end up devoting most of our attention to its vast reaches of remote strand. Cape Lookout National Seashore (North Carolina) Wild horses roaming Cape Lookout National Seashore. Doug Butchy The hurricane coast of North Carolina’s Outer Banks reaches a wild pinnacle in Cape Lookout National Seashore, separated from the more developed Cape Hatteras National Seashore to the north by the Ocracoke Inlet. The barrier islands of Shackleford Banks, South Core Banks, and North Core Banks, separated from the mainland by Back and Core sounds, serve up some 112 miles of undeveloped shoreline, and hikers and boaters have awesome opportunities for primal beach camping. Nine-mile-long Shackleford Banks, where vehicles aren’t allowed, is best for solitude. The isle includes a remnant of Outer Banks maritime forest—dark dune-sheltered woods of live oak, juniper, holly, and other trees drenched in Spanish moss and vines—as well as sun-blasted grasses, saltmarsh, and barren sand. Keep an eye peeled for some of Shackleford’s 100-odd feral ponies, the so-called Banker horses descended from animals brought over by the Spanish. (Don’t get too close: They kick.) Check the National Seashore’s website for details on camping, plan kayak safaris with the Down East Paddle Trail, and avail yourself of a NOAA nautical chart. The Everglades Coast (Florida) Paddling Everglades National Park. Miguel Vieira Sure, the Sunshine State’s got glammed-up resort beaches, gargantuan sprawl, and galaxies of golf courses. But it also lays claim to some truly gnarly wilderness, not least in southwestern Florida’s great mangrove rim edging the Gulf of Mexico and Florida Bay. Fed by the languid rivers and sloughs of the Everglades and the Big Cypress Swamp, this tropical outback comprises a morass of tidal swampland, backwater bays, maritime hammocks, and mangrove keys: one of the biggest roadless swaths—and certainly one of the wildest coastlines—in the conterminous U.S. The northern portion of the wilderness coast encompasses the Ten Thousand Islands from Cape Romano southeast to the vicinity of the shell isle of Chokoloskee. Southeast of that archipelago sprawl, the big mangrove swamps (or mangal) and brackish channels where the Big Cypress and the Shark River Slough of the Everglades drain to the sea. Lonely Cape Sable with its mangrove jungle, buttonwood parks, and coastal prairie forms the southwestern heel of the Florida mainland, wrapping around to the road’s-end outpost of Flamingo in Everglades National Park. From there to the east rolls another coastal backcountry: the scalloped, crocodile-prowled north shore of Florida Bay, roadless all the way to the Overseas Highway to Key Largo. Aside from a few buggy trails in the Flamingo vicinity, the only practical way to penetrate this convoluted seacoast is by boat. The 99-mile-long Wilderness Waterway makes a popular paddling or powerboat route, but a challenging one on account of mosquitoes, heat, wind, and the mazelike nature of the country. Molokai’s North Shore (Hawaii) The dramatic shoreline of Molokai’s North Shore. Forest Starr and Kim Starr Not only one of the wildest seacoasts in the country but one of the most jaw-droppingly spectacular in the world, the North Shore of Molokai between the Kalaupapa Peninsula on the west and the Halawa Valley on the east confronts the Pacific with the world’s tallest sea cliffs: These pali, as they’re called in Hawaii, rear better than 3,000 feet from the surf at their highest, and wall off pristine high rainforest. Several almost otherworldly valleys breach this 40-mile-long bastion of Molokai’s “Back Side,” including the Nature Conservancy-managed Pelekunu Valley and the Wailau Valley, the beach mouth of which makes an unreal camping spot for coastal paddlers. Given the remoteness and the outer-coast conditions, kayaking the North Shore—a summertime activity—demands plenty of planning and preparation. Kauai’s Na Pali Coast (Hawaii) The sheer, razorback spurs of Hawaii's Na Pali Coast. Matt Wunderle A similarly sheer spectacle composes Kauai’s northwestern shore: the fabled Na Pali Coast, where slumping and erosion have turned the flanks of the island’s shield volcano into razorback spurs, toothy pinnacles, and grooved cliffs (which rise past 1,000 feet directly above the breakers, and beyond 4,000 feet just inland). This gloriously ravaged and roadless oceanfront extends some 15 miles between Polihale Beach in the southwest and Kee Beach in the northeast, the scenic apex being the pali-walled Kalalau Valley and its remote Kalalau Beach. The Kalalau and other Na Pali glens, their headwalls streaked with waterfalls, historically sheltered populations of Native Hawaiians, who used what’s now the Kalalau Trail to access these valleys when the ferocious surf of winter made ocean access too dicey. Hiking the 11-mile-long Kalalau today and camping overnight in the coves of the Na Pali is unforgettable, though you must tread carefully along the steep and switchbacking track, as it's downright dangerous in wet conditions. In summer, you can also kayak the Na Pali Coast, with the option of camping at the Miloli’i Valley, which is only reachable by boat. The Olympic Coast (Washington) Taking in just one of the thousands of gorgeous vistas along the sublime Washington Coast. Jeff Bartlett Spruce-topped seastacks, dark rainforest headlands, brimming tidepools, cobble coves, piles of whalesize driftwood, the gray rage of the North Pacific: the northwestern coast of Washington’s Olympic Peninsula offers backpackers some of the Lower 48’s rawest maritime wilderness. On this isolated outer coast, you may spot porpoises, harbor seals, and sea otters—maybe even a gray whale along its yearly Baja-to-Alaska-and-back odyssey. Two long roadless sections make up most of Olympic National Park’s seaboard: a southern reach between the mouth of the Hoh River and La Push on the Quillayute Indian Reservation, and a northern reach between Rialto Beach at the mouth of the Quillayute up to Shi Shi Beach. Major access points include Kalaloch and Rialto beaches and Ozette Lake in the coastal forest, from which boardwalk trails lead to Sand Point and Cape Alava. Long-distance coastal hiking here is rigorous: slogging on sand, grinding over cobble, skirting drift logs, and following muddy and jungly overland trails to round impassable headlands. A good topo map and tide chart are essential. The Oregon Dunes (Oregon) The seemingly endless sands of Oregon's coastal dunes. Michael Renfrow Given the overall ruggedness of the Pacific Northwest coast, it may come as a surprise to learn that the central Oregon seashore claims the nation’s largest tract of sand dunes. The so-called Coos Bay dune sheet stretches some 54 miles between Heceta Head and Coos Bay, much of it managed by the U.S. Forest Service as the Oregon Dunes National Recreation Area. Now, Oregon has a famously scenic coastline with plenty of wild character—storm-battered capes and headlands, shrouded spruce ravines, rocky coves of boiling surf—but highways (mainly 101) hug it nearly all the way. In the Oregon Dunes, however, the road pulls inland for long stretches. Off-highway vehicles are allowed in much of the recreation area, but where they’re forbidden—for instance, between the sand mouths of the Siltcoos and Umpqua rivers—hikers can easily find solitude amid the dune wastes, the soggy (and often mosquito-swarmed) pinewoods of the deflation plain, and lush “tree islands” of sand-encircled temperate rainforest. Summer backpackers often find themselves socked in for days by Pacific fog that turns the dunefields into a chilly dreamscape. The Lost Coast (California) Alone along the sand and surf of California's Lost Coast. Matt Palmer The highest and roughest mountains directly flanking the Lower 48’s Pacific Coast lie in California. South of Eureka, the rugged King Range looms 4,000 feet not far from the tideline, forcing Highway 1 inland and thereby fortressing some 60 miles of mostly roadless shore called the Lost Coast. Between the King Range National Conservation Area in the north and the Sinkyone Wilderness State Park in the south, this is the West Coast in the raw: raging surf, offshore arches, beach rivers, redwood ravines, shadowy Douglas-fir/tanoak forests breaking into grassy ridgetops with sweeping ocean views. It’s not uncommon to see Roosevelt elk grazing within sight of harbor seals, sea lions, and spouting gray whales. The Lost Coast Trail makes one of the finest coastal backpacking treks in the country, though, as on the Olympic shore, you’ll be challenged by tides, weather, and tiring sand/cobble hiking. Much of the 25-mile northern segment between the Mattole River and Black Sands Beach goes right along the beach; the southern Sinkyone section, nearly 30 miles of it, spends more time inland and upslope. Written by Ethan Shaw for RootsRated.

Weekend backpacking trips are one of the greatest gifts of the summer. You can get so much in just two to three days: a breathtaking vista, a serene mountain lake, a secluded old-growth forest. The only problem is that all too soon you’re back at the trailhead, preparing for the long drive home and wondering how you’ll get through five more days before your next big adventure. Usually, this is when hikers start to google “Appalachian Trail Town Guide” or “PCT Gear Checklist,” but if you aren’t quite ready to quit your job and sell your house, there are other long trail options, ones that can be squeezed in alongside life’s many other responsibilities. And since these trails don’t get the same press as the jewels of the triple crown, the odds of getting a week of breathtaking vistas all to yourself are even better. 1. Benton-Mackaye Trail A 270-foot suspension bridge crossing the Toccoa River on the Benton MacKaye Trail in North Georgia. Richard States: Georgia, North Carolina, Tennessee Season: Year round Duration: 2-4 weeks Learn more: BMTA.org The Appalachian Trail is widely considered one of the most social trails in America, and no wonder as thousands of hikers attempt a thru-hike every year. But if you’re looking to experience what the AT might have been like before its fame grew far and wide, look no further than the 300-mile Benton-Mackaye Trail. It shares its southern terminus (Springer Mountain) with the AT, but quickly veers to the west, deep into the Appalachian Mountains and away from the crowds. Here you’ll find the small wonders this corner of the world is known for: deep, lush forests, blooming wildflowers, and cool, bubbling creeks. While this trail is well-maintained by a devoted group of volunteers, amenities are kept at a minimum compared to other trails in the region. The good news is that a lack of established shelters and infrequent signage mean that you’re even more likely to have this trail all to yourself. (If you only have time for a section hike, be sure to check out the best Benton Mackaye day hikes in Georgia and in Tennessee/North Carolina.) 2. John Muir Trail Camp vibes along the John Muir Trail Rick McCharles States: California Season: Summer Duration: 2-3 weeks Learn more: PCTA.org The granddaddy of them all, the John Muir Trail offers a wholly unique adventure for intrepid backpackers: 211 miles of trail without a single road crossing. Starting at a mere 4,000 feet in Yosemite Valley, you’ll soon leave behind the crowds as you climb up above the treeline and into the high country where no fewer than eight mountain passes await you. Make no mistake about it, the remoteness (not to mention the difficulty) of this trail requires serious training and planning, so be prepared to cross snowfields, wade through swollen rivers, and safeguard your food from the area’s notorious bears. The majority of JMT hikers are headed southbound, but you’ll still see plenty of northbound hikers along the way, as the PCT shares 170 miles of trail through the High Sierras. The only real downside to this trail is its popularity as most reservations are snapped up months in advance of hiking season. 3. Lone Star Hiking Trail The Lone Star Trail as it passes through the Stubblefield Lake Recreation Area Adrian Delgado2012 State: Texas Season: Year round Duration: 1 week Learn more: LoneStarTrail.org Leave behind the noise and crowds of Houston and travel an hour north to find the solitude and quiet you’ve been craving on the Lone Star Hiking Trail. Tucked away in the Sam Houston National Forest, this 128-mile pine needle-cushioned footpath takes you deep into the backcountry along serene, bubbling creeks and over gentle slopes. As you hike, you’ll wind your way through dense stands of magnolia trees and miles and miles of hardwoods, home to woodpeckers and bald eagles alike. This is one of the few long distance trails that can be hiked year-round, and might even be best in winter, when the scorching temperatures of Texas are moderated. Another bonus: no permit is required to get started, and maps can be downloaded for free at the volunteer-maintained website. 4. The Long Trail The Theron Dean Shelter on the Long Trail of Vermont dvs States: Vermont Season: Late spring through late fall Duration: 3 weeks Learn more: GreenMountainClub.org America’s obsession with thru-hiking may well have started with the Long Trail, the country’s oldest long-distance route, and the inspiration for the Appalachian Trail. Traveling the length of Vermont, the bulk of its 272 miles trace the ridges of the Green Mountains, traveling along remote streams and through alpine sedge, and climbing the state’s highest peaks: Camel’s Hump, Killington Peak, Mount Mansfield, and more. But this trail is known less for the views than as a rugged journey through a thick forest of hemlocks, eastern white pines, sugar maples, and balsam fir. Be aware that while this trail doesn’t reach the same elevations as its Western cousins, it offers significant terrain challenges for the novice and advanced hiker alike. Expect scrambling, slippery log crossings, and rough trails. Today, the LT shares 100 miles of trail with the AT, but while the latter stops midway through Maine, the LT takes you all the way to the Canadian border. 5. The Mid State Trail A Mid State Trail footbridge in Alan Seeger Natural Area of Rothrock State Forest Nicholas A. Tonelli States: Pennsylvania Season: Spring to fall Duration: 5-7 weeks Learn more: Hike-MST.org If you’re looking for something a little longer, and little wilder, check out the 522-mile Mid State Trail running straight down the middle of Pennsylvania. Straddling the Appalachians and the Allegheny plateau, this path is unusually solitary and remote, even as it brings you within spitting distance of established communities (and one or two ghost towns). It accomplishes this by keeping hikers above the fray, traveling from the highest knob and steepest ridgelines, across densely forested highlands, and up and around rolling hills. Like many of the trails in this region, the route is scattered with boulders of varying shapes and sizes, making it difficult to cover ground quickly. But, unlike those other trails, the secret’s not out on this one yet, and it’s a toss-up which you’ll see more of as you hike: bears or backpackers. 6. Ozark Highlands Trail The Ozarks in Autumn OakleyOriginals States: Arkansas Season: October through June Duration: 2 weeks Learn more: OzarkHighlandsTrail.com If your ideal wilderness trek is one where you won’t encounter another hiker for days on end, the Ozark Highlands Trail should be near the top of your list. But even if you start out in search of the trail’s peaceful valleys and lonely vistas you’ll stay for its smaller wonders: delicate waterfalls, remnants of bygone pioneers, and impressive rock formations, like the Narrs: a narrow catwalk of stone snaking along the Buffalo River. While reasonably well-marked, this trail is more rustic than most, so be prepared for your feet to get wet (and stay wet) during its many stream crossings. Fortunately, there are a number of ancient structures scattered along the way where you can air out and dry off. Procrastinating thru-hikers may rejoice that this one doesn’t require a special permit to get started, but know that the remoteness of the terrain and the difficulty of resupply (there are only two POs and no grocery stores along the way) mean it requires just as much, if not more, planning. 7. River to River Trail Illinois' Garden of the Gods State Park, one of the highlights along the River to River Trail Curtis Abert States: Illinois Season: Spring through fall Duration: 1-2 weeks Learn more: fs.usda.gov Even if you don’t have the time to hike the entire 6,800-mile American Discovery Trail, you can still tackle an important leg of it: the 160-mile River to River Trail travels across southern Illinois, from the Ohio River to the Mississippi. If you’ve never been to this part of the country, you’re in for a real treat. Towering slot canyons, sandstone sculpted bluffs, dense deciduous forests (hike this one in fall if you can), and, of course, sweeping views of two of the most iconic rivers of the Midwest are but a few of the treasures to be found along the way. While the forests surrounding this trail look untouched today, don’t be fooled, as you may be following an ancient wagon trail, long overgrown. A word of caution: since this trail is not maintained to the same standards that you’ll find in established wilderness areas, aspiring thru-hikers should come prepared with serious navigational skills. 8. Shore-to-Shore Trail Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore from above Josh Grenier States: Michigan Season: Spring through summer Duration: 2 weeks Learn more: MTRA.org Begin your adventure by dipping a toe into Lake Huron at one of two starting points on the eastern half of the 220-mile Shore-to-Shore Trail. As you travel west, wander through warbler territory, join up for a section of the 4,600-mile North Country Trail, and then skirt the more popular tourist destinations as the trail winds across the rolling hills that characterize the middle of the state. End your trip with a plunge into Lake Michigan via the steep bluffs of Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore. While there are many upsides to choosing this thru-hike, one downside is that heavy equestrian use can make this trail more challenging for those traveling by foot. Expect longer distances between established campsites (20-25 miles), deep grooves along the path, and maps that are more focused on the needs of thru-riders than thru-hikers. 9. Tahoe Rim Trail Overlooking the Desolation Wilderness Jeff P States: California and Nevada Season: July through September Duration: 1-2 weeks Learn more: TahoeRimTrail.org While Tahoe’s beaches are packed with tourists you’ll be high up on the ridgeline enjoying stunning vistas on this 165-mile loop around the lake’s perimeter. This one is anything but routine, traveling through densely wooded forests, up high mountain passes (there may be snow early in the season), and around the shores of shimmering lakes set against the moonscapes that are specific to this region. The TRT also shares a footpath with the Pacific Crest Trail for 50 miles through the Desolation Wilderness, offering ample opportunity to get some insider info before you plan next year’s big hike. Give yourself a minimum of a week to complete if you’re doing it all in one shot, or break it out into 14 separate day hikes and earn your Weekend Warrior stripes. Added bonus: since the TRT is a loop rather than an end-to-end thru-hike, transportation planning is a snap. 10. Wonderland Trail Encircling Mount Rainier for 93-miles, the Wonderland Trail is worthy of any backpacker's bucket list John Strother Located: Washington State Season: July through September Duration: 1-2 weeks Learn more: RootsRated.com/how-to-thru-hike-the-wonderland-trail Discover 93 miles of pure heaven circumventing Washington’s most iconic peak. Its jaw-dropping spectacles include fields ablaze with wildflowers of all colors, bridges hundreds of feet over raging rivers and waterfalls, and a new angle from which to see the mountain up close and personal every single day (at least as long as PNW’s infamous weather cooperates). While you’re not climbing Mt. Rainier (14,411 feet), expect significant elevation change (22,000 feet in all) as you climb up and over its many ridges. The Wonderland Trail’s reputation has grown in recent years from a local treasure to a national destination, but if you have a flexible schedule this might just be the perfect year to hike it. A glitch in the reservation system for 2016 means that all reservations are now first come first serve, making it easier than ever to secure a last-minute spot on a once-in-a-lifetime thru-hike. Written by Laura Lancaster for RootsRated.

When it comes to two-wheeled adventuring, sometimes self-guided exploration is part of the thrill. Other times, you’d rather leave the wayfaring to an experienced guide so you can focus on soaking up the scenery as well as the eats (and drinks) along the route. Whether you’re a hardcore cyclist looking to press your daily mileage or just out for a Sunday cruise with plenty of stops for Instagram photos, there’s an offering that’s just your speed. In recent years, operators have expanded their offerings to include a wide range of interest and skill levels, from ambitious tours of California’s coast and wine regions, to food-centric cruises to Denver’s food halls, to historic rides through Maine’s lighthouses—and everywhere in between. In honor of National Bike Month in May, here are 10 of the best bike tours in the U.S. 1. Denver for Fantastic Food Halls A post shared by The Source (@thesourcedenver) on Mar 24, 2018 at 12:41pm PDT Denver has become a food-hall capital as of late, thanks to five destinations dotting the Mile High City and its suburbs with a mouthwatering array of restaurants and artisanal food shops. Take a bite out of all five spots over 10 miles of urban road riding, from Avanti Food and Beverage in the LoHi neighborhood to Stanley Marketplace in Aurora, home to 50 local businesses housed in a former airplane hangar in Aurora. Get rolling at The Source, a hotel/market hall hybrid in a former iron foundry with 25 indie food vendors and bike rentals. 2. Albuquerque for Chiles A post shared by Sharon Kotas🐨🌸 (@kotaskoala) on Jul 2, 2015 at 11:52am PDT This kicky little veggie, whether in its red, green, chopped, and sauced forms, is ubiquitous in New Mexico. The crop is the basis of the state’s signature regional cuisine—and one of Albuquerque’s most popular outings from Routes Bicycle Tours. The 10-to-12-mile tour cruises along the Rio Grande’s cottonwood forests to six of the city’s top foodie hotspots, like Golden Crown Panaderia for green chile bread, and Pop Fizz, home to red chile chocolate popsicles. 3. Austin for Live Music A post shared by Visit Austin TX (@visitaustintx) on Jan 8, 2017 at 1:37pm PST During Austin's thriving festivals—and there are plenty of them—ditch the car and make like the locals, opting for a bike instead, which gets you past the inevitably snarled traffic to the stage way faster. And you’re sure to stumble across live music venues on the Austin Icons tour offered by Austin Bike Tours and Rentals. The two-hour outing pedals past Sholtz’s Beer Garden, the oldest operating business in Texas that’s had a grand influence on local culture and music. 4. Santa Barbara, California for Beaches and Wine A post shared by Visit Santa Barbara (@visitsantabarbara) on Nov 24, 2017 at 9:51am PST It’s hard to decide which is more relaxing: the beach or wine country. But California Bicycle Tours’ multi-day rides from Southern California up the Central Coast promise the best of both. Riders pedal along scenic coastlines, past quaint seaside towns, and along the scenic vines of Santa Barbara’s wine country. Tours vary based on itinerary; however, they cover 22 to 40 miles per day, so they’re better suited to riders who are accustomed to being in the saddle. 5. Los Angeles for Tacos A post shared by Sydney Kramer (@crepesofwrath) on May 6, 2018 at 9:29am PDT La La Land’s taco scene is spicy, and an outing from LA Cycle Tours wraps up some of the city’s best known and off-the-beaten-path spots. The nine-mile tour through several L.A. neighborhoods and past historic sites helps justify that extra side of guacamole. 6. Portland, Oregon, for Craft Beer A post shared by Krystal Sutherland (@km_sutherland) on May 13, 2018 at 6:08pm PDT Portland has earned the nickname "Beervana" for good reason—it’s home to more than 70 breweries, at last count. Get a sampling of what’s on tap with Pedal Bike Tours, which guides thirsty riders along the five-to seven-mile route past 11 of the city’s sudsy spots and inside a handful of them to see the brewing process and—of course—taste. 7. New Orleans for Cuisine A post shared by @eater_nola on Feb 14, 2018 at 7:23pm PST You probably won’t come close to pedaling off the calories you consume, but who doesn’t come to the Big Easy to overindulge a bit? The Confederacy of Cruisers’ New Orleans Culinary Bike Tour itinerary changes with the seasons, but you can expect a sampling of NOLA classics like gumbo, po’boys, crawfish, Cajun pork boudin, and jambalaya, as well as a few off-the-tourist-track surprises from the city’s Italian and African influences. This caloric cruise follows six- to 10-mile routes (but don’t count on your pedaling to offset the feast). 8. Atlanta for Neighborhood Gems A post shared by Lauren Neidrauer (@lauren.neidrauer) on Aug 14, 2017 at 12:16pm PDT The Atlanta Beltline will ultimately encircle A-Town, connecting 45 in-town neighborhoods along trails built on former railroad corridors. That neighborly spirit prevails on free weekly tours, organized by the Atlanta Beltline Partnership. Saturday morning rides follow the 16-mile Eastside Trail or the 11-mile Westside Trail; routes alternate each weekend. 9. Oak Park, Illinois, for Architecture A post shared by Wild Horse (@unsavory_pun) on May 5, 2018 at 6:30am PDT Architecture aficionados will find their match in the summer tours (June through September) of the world’s largest collection of buildings designed by Frank Lloyd Wright. The outing begins and ends at the iconic architect’s home and studio, and cruises through a picturesque neighborhood filled with 21 Wright-designed structures. 10. Portland, Maine, for Lighthouses and Lobster Rolls A post shared by Kevin Dunn (@coachdad815) on Sep 9, 2017 at 1:24pm PDT Summer Feet Cycling’s Lighthouse Bike Tour follows the scenic shores of Casco Bay by bike to five of the state’s picturesque lighthouses, with guides sharing Portland’s history along the way. along the 10- to 12-mile tour, you’ll work up an appetite for lunch, which features the city’s best lobster roll. Or, for the foodie-centric cyclists who prefer their tour with more lobster rolls than lighthouses, Summer Feet also has an offering exclusively devoted to taste testing one of New England’s signature dishes. Written by Ashley M. Biggers for RootsRated.