The 20 Best Day Hikes in Colorado

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

For those of us who swim, paddle, fish, hunt, or simply just enjoy the flowing waters of Central Texas, no water means no play. While aquifers—those vast underground rivers—remain mysterious and unseen far below us, they have a huge impact on our everyday life. Not just for drinking and showering, but for recreation as well. In addition to water playgrounds like Barton Springs, take Jacob’s Well in Wimberley, for example, one of the finest swimming holes in Central Texas. For the first time in history, the spring, which is fed by the Trinity Aquifer, dried up completely in the year 2000. Then it happened again in 2008. Years ago, it would be impossible to descend more than two feet below the surface because the spring would bubble you up with incredible force. Parents would toss their children into the well smiling and without fear, confident they’d bob right back up. Some historians even say that in past centuries the spring would shoot as high as 30 feet above ground! This was all because of the strong aquifer flow. But now, due to major development in the area as well as drought and overpumping, all we have are distant memories of the past and ongoing measures in the present to address water conservation and quality of the aquifer. Yet, even attempts like these don’t ensure protection. On Feb. 10, a furious crowd overflowed the Wimberley Community Center to demand that state Rep. Jason Isaac (R-Dripping Springs) put an end to a commercial groundwater-pumping project in Hays County. The project is planning to pump 5.3 million gallons of water each day from the Trinity Aquifer and, for a pretty penny, sell more than a million gallons a day to the city of Buda. But action to stop the project remains to be seen. People packed the Wimberley Community Center Feb. 11 during a town hall meeting with Rep. Jason Isaac, R-Dripping Springs, to demand a stop to the commercial groundwater-pumping project in Hays County. Lani Alvarez Underlying this conflict is a critical issue highly likely to boil up in increasing frequency across Texas as water resources diminish and the population swells. “No natural resource issue has greater significance for the future of Texas than water,” says Dr. Andrew Sansom, executive director of The Meadows Center for Water and the Environment. Everyone knows rain in Central Texas is sporadic, unpredictable and, more often than not, infrequent. Now stop for a moment and imagine if we had to rely solely on rain to keep our rivers and creeks flowing. For almost two decades now, Texas has suffered under record drought. And as we already are seeing in many spots, some of Austin's best paddling trails may become a lot less enjoyable in shallow, still water. Fortunately for us, aquifers capture and store rain and release water over time into our rivers, streams, and springs. And yet, such aquifers are threatened by projects like the one near Wimberley. The view from a glass-bottom boat tour on Aquarena Springs, which is fed by the Edwards Aquifer. Lani Alvarez “Think about Spring Lake  in San Marcos and  Barton Springs in Austin,” says Louie Bond, editor-in-chief of Texas Parks & Wildlife magazine. “All are fed by these underground bodies of water—all are in danger of drying up if we empty the aquifers.” Even though the Trinity aquifer, which the controversial project is targeting, may seem relatively distant from Barton Springs, it is intricately linked. The Trinity aquifer feeds the Blanco river, and during droughts, the Blanco feeds Barton Springs much of its water, according to Nico Hauwert, senior hydrogeologist for the City of Austin Watershed Protection Department. To put this connection in real context, "If the baseflow to the Blanco river near Wimberley were to cease," reported Hauwert, "Barton Springs could dry up in three months." The only place this endangered species occurs is deep within the Edwards Aquifer. It is completely blind, as its eyes are not needed in the darkness of the aquifer. Lani Alvarez  All aquifers in our region affect our outdoor recreation. Swimmers, divers, paddlers, anglers alike—all are impacted by the water that is or is not in Central Texas aquifers. Additionally, there's the impact this would have on endangered species that are entirely dependent on these springs, such as the Texas Blind Salamander that lives only in the Edwards Aquifer. Whether you love diving into a deep well of water or simply observing the wildlife around you, this is an issue that affects you directly. So when will Central Texas water playgrounds dry up? It seems that's up to us. Here are just a few ways you can do your part to help preserve our aquifers: Voice your concern about aggressive pumping. Visit SaveOurWells.com and consider signing this petition. If you're in Buda or Wimberley, or almost anywhere in Hays County, you may be directly affected by the current controversy over Electro Purification's aggressive water pumping from the Trinity aquifer. Learn about your aquifer authority or groundwater conservation district. You vote for your board members—find out who shares your goals for a healthy aquifer and who might have less-than-pure motivations for controlling how much is pumped. Grow food, not lawns. Today lawns are the largest modern water wasters. How about planting some butterfly- or bird- attracting plants instead? Or food for yourself. When your neighbors see the wonderland you’ve created, they’ll want one of their own. Xeriscape. Xeriscaping is a method of landscaping and gardening that utilizes water-conserving techniques. More than half of our fresh water supplies go to landscaping, so this method is highly promoted in drought-sensitive Central Texas. Join a citizen science group, such as the Texas Stream Team, that is dedicated to learning about and protecting the 191,000 miles of waterways we have here in Texas. Read up on other ways to conserve water, such as the Water—Use it Wisely website, which offers nearly 200 water-saving tips that you can download, print, and even share on social media.

The Shenandoah Valley is one of the East Coast's best kept secrets, providing outdoor enthusiasts with opportunities to hike, paddle, and bike—and it's just a short drive away from Washington, D.C. You can get a bird's eye view of the valley, enjoy a hiking trip, or tap into your inner foodie at a local eatery. It isn't a stretch to say that the Shenandoah Valley puts adventure in the palm of your hand, and these 10 adventures are the perfect way to have a good time outside. 1. Take a Hike in Shenandoah National Park Just last year, the skies were clear enough for a visitor to spot the Washington Monument at night from Shenandoah National Park. That's a rare occurrence, but on average, you can see sites roughly 60 miles away. See what you can spot from one of Shenandoah National Park's epic hikes: Mary's Rock, Stony Man, Hawksbill, Bearfence, and Blackrock—just a few to keep on your list. 2. Backpack a Stretch of the Appalachian Trail Tackle a portion of the Appalachian trail in the Shenandoah Valley. Compass Points Media Shenandoah National Park alone has 101 miles of the Appalachian Trail within its borders, but the trail meanders through much of the Shenandoah Valley. This is one of the most scenic sections of the trail, and you can tackle a portion of it either in the park or outside of it. The area also has six AT Communities: Waynesboro, Berryville, Buena Vista, Front Royal, Harrisonburg, and Luray. These towns across the country are designed as such by the Appalachian Trail Conservancy, marking them as good friends and neighbors to the trail. Trail users can expect to find excellent support in these towns, including special events, promotions, transportation options, and amenities for those making the long trek across the country. But even if you're not up for a multi-day (let alone multi-month) trek, day hikes are a great way to experience a taste of what it's like for the thru-hikers making the trip from Georgia to Maine. 3. Take a Mini-Vacation in the Shenandoah Valley. Campgrounds, cabins, and bed and breakfasts dot Shenandoah Valley, creating many opportunities for a weekend getaway. Looking for a more unique setting for your overnight adventure? How about a yurt or a treehouse? You'll find a multitude of overnight spots to serve as your base for exploring the area. 4. Marvel at the Natural Bridge and Luray Caverns The extensive Luray Caverns is one of the area’s natural wonders. sgplewka Nature can do marvelous things. Plan to be awestruck by two examples that have been bringing in tourists for centuries: the Natural Bridge, which was carved out by Cedar Creek and stands more than 200 feet high, and Luray Caverns, deep beneath the earth with room after room filled with towering rock formations and crystal clear pools. 5. Take to the Skies in a Hot Air Balloon. You don't have to head too far west to enjoy a hot air balloon ride. You'll get a new and rare perspective on the Shenandoah Valley—from mountains to farms—as you soar high above the land and take in a 360-degree look at the beauty below. 6. Explore Skyline Drive and the Blue Ridge Parkway Cruise along Skyline Drive for incredible views. Shahid Durrani Since the first section of Skyline Drive opened in 1934, people have been taking road trips to enjoy views from 75 overlooks along 105 miles. The Blue Ridge Parkway, the longest road planned as a single unit, stretches nearly 500 miles further south and winds through even more mountains. Together, these two roads are an iconic drive—whether you go for a day or for the entire length. 7. Sip Locally at Virginia's Wineries and Breweries There's something to be said for a day at the vineyard. Virginia's ever-growing wine, beer, and cider scene provide numerous options for a day with friends, and a chance to try some of the more interesting and inventive offerings that you might not otherwise find at stores back home. Check out the your options in the valley along the Shenandoah Beerwerks Trail, the Shenandoah Spirits Trail, and the Shenandoah Valley Wine Trail. 8. Paddle on the Shenandoah River The Shenandoah River is one of the top paddling destinations in the eastern United States. Virginia State Parks The Shenandoah River's South Fork is considered one of the top canoeing rivers in the eastern United States. With smooth stretches and some class II whitewater, there's something for both beginners and more experienced canoeists. Looking for a more relaxed outing? You can rent tubes and enjoy a leisurely float along the river. 9. Ride the Virginia Mountain Biking Trail Running from Strasburg to Damascus, this 480-mile bike trail connects the Allegheny and Blue Ridge Mountain Ranges. This rugged and adventurous route is a challenge for the experienced mountain biker—whether you tackle it in its entirety or explore sections of the trail over time. 10. Discover the Tuscarora Trail This 252-mile trail is an official bypass route of the Appalachian Trail, which stretches through much of the Shenandoah Valley and is maintained by the Potomac Appalachian Trail Club. With new sections recently re-routed just outside of Winchester and a healthy number of AT-quality shelters and campsites throughout, you've got a golden opportunity to experience ridgeline hiking and gorgeous mountain views without the crowds that can sometimes be found on the AT. Written by Jen Adach for RootsRated Media in partnership with Staunton.

In Washington, the highest of the high country can be snowed in deep from October to June. And that’s true even in a warm winter like this one. But no matter where the mercury falls, there’s a place to lace up your boots—whether you’re craving a quadburner or a riverside ramble, a quick morning jaunt or an all-day, road-tripping adventure. Here, our suggestions for five great winter hikes in Seattle. 1. Baker Lake Trail Mount Baker, Baker Lake —the views of one from the other are spectacular, and with a low trailhead elevation of around 1,000 feet, the route stays snow-free almost all year round. This hike is a Northwest grab bag: old-growth Douglas fir draped with lichen, cedar snags charred by an 1843 forest fire, shoreline campsites, old wooden bridges, and the dramatic backdrop of a glacier-clad volcano. (Bonus: in winter, with leaves on the ground, Mount Baker is all the more visible.) With a shuttle, you can go 14.5 miles one way; with gumption, you can finish the whole thing. 2. Hoh River In the Hoh Rainforest, it's easy being green. Scott Costello During the summer, the Hoh Rainforest is one of the busiest places in Olympic National Park, with some of the largest trees on earth, big herds of Roosevelt elk, and mosses that drip off every conceivable branch in a spectrum of greens, from lime to emerald. Come winter, the rain can be incessant but crowds are gone—and the beauty doesn’t change. The trail is mellow and well-trodden, following the Hoh River upstream for pretty much as far as you want to go, or until you hit snow (it’s how mountaineers access 7,979-foot Mount Olympus). Five Mile Island, a lush landmark in the middle of the river, is a perfect turnaround, and the total elevation gain is under 1,000 feet. 3. Middle Fork Snoqualmie River The way across the Middle Fork. laffertyryan If you can spare a couple hours, the Middle Fork —30 miles from downtown—is the Seattle outdoor version of instant outdoors gratification. Just after crossing a beautiful wooden bridge, this trail goes both downstream and up—and we say up’s the way to go. The woods are silent, the river is loud, and the mileage clocks in at six. Along the way, you’ll see the humpbacked ridgeline of Stegosaurus Butte, where you might see climbers on its slabby walls. Some of the creek crossings can be tricky this time of year, so pack a trekking pole or two. 4. East Peak Rattlesnake Trail, from Rattlesnake Lake Looking down on Rattlesnake Lake from Rattlesnake Ledge. Layne Shepherd Most people who come to Rattlesnake , a steady switchbacking climb, end up at the precipitous cliffs of the lowest ledge to have a snack and then descend again. Those two miles, with 1,100-odd feet of elevation gain, are great for a quickie (for you and, on nice weekends, what seems like half of Seattle). Granted, with the whole Cedar River watershed and Mount Si in front of you, it’s worth a pause. But those in the know continue on another 2.4 miles past a few more ledges along a ridge to East Peak, more than doubling the climb. If the weather’s clear, you can peek through the trees to see Mount Rainier. 5. Ozette Triangle Just one highlight of the Ozette: the seastacks off Cape Alava. Scoring a summertime permit to camp in this part of Olympic National Park isn’t easy, but hiking the loop in a single day is not just doable—it should be on every Northwesterner’s bucket list. In just 9.4 miles, you can meander paths lined with huge ferns, cross boardwalks over seas of skunk cabbage, check out an old homestead, find Makah petroglyphs, and traverse a wild coastline dotted with tidepools and lorded over by bald eagles. The best part? No matter how much snow remains in the alpine, it doesn’t matter to you. You’re headed to the beach.   Written by Evelyn Spence for RootsRated.