Tag: Camping

Sliding Sands to Palikū Cabin Loop

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Sliding Sands to Palikū Cabin Loop

Haleakalā National Park, Hawaii

Length: 19mi (30.6km)
Days: 2
Difficulty: Moderate (well maintained trail, exposure / weather risk, rough terrain, significant elevation change over short distances)
Gear: Standard
Completed: March 2023

In summary: Fitting a trip to Haleakalā into a Hawaii vacation is no simple feat, especially if you plan to spend a night in the crater. The summit area of the volcano is a few hours from any of the island’s major tourist centers, and most travelers opt to fill their suitcases with bathing suits as opposed to camping gear. Still, it is an experience worth making time for. Stepping into the Haleakalā Crater is akin to landing on a foreign planet. Almost instantly, one forgets the blue waters and sandy beaches of which Hawaii is known and starts to wonder at the isolated, ruddy landscape that is like nowhere else on Earth. As you hike along you may find yourself asking: Is this what Mars looks like? Am I walking through a cloud right now? Was Jurassic Park filmed here? Few two-day treks can match the Sliding Sands to Paliku Hut Loop in terms of diversity of scenery and terrain. Despite its brevity, this trail should not be considered a cakewalk. Sharp and unstable lava rock litter the crater floor, weather conditions are notoriously unpredictable, and the grade of the trail entering and exiting the crater is severe. Nevertheless, spending a night on Haleakalā is an unforgettable experience, and I can promise that if you are the type of person who enjoys reading this blog, you will not regret forfeiting a day or two of your beach time.

The Route

Preparation / Know Before You Go

This route requires a short hitchhike: If you want to turn your trip into a loop instead of a lollipop, you will need to catch a short hitchhike between the Haleakalā Visitors Center and either the Halemau’u Trailhead or Hosmer Grove Campground. While this is optional, I would highly recommend it as the stretch along the Halemau’u Trail is one of the best sections of the park. The hitch itself should not pose you too much trouble if you exit at the Halemau’u Trailhead as there is a designated pickup area and signs notifying drivers there may be hikers in need of a ride. For context, it took us ~10 minutes a hitch. We also picked up a hiker on our way up to the summit who told us he had been waiting ~30 minutes.

Reservations are required for overnight stays: By design, there are very few campsites within the Haleakalā Crater. If you want to experience the magic of an overnight stay, you will want to reserve a permit well in advance. Reservations can be placed for the cabins ($75/night) or adjacent campgrounds (free) on Recreation.gov. Per usual, we stayed in the campground.

Bring a filter: The Haleakalā campgrounds offer very basic services to minimize environmental impact. There are pit toilets and water spigots. The water from the spigots is considered non-potable; thus, overnighters should bring water treatment devices.

Prepare for inclement weather: The weather atop Haleakalā is notorious for being unpredictable. It tends to be 20-30°F (11-17°C) cooler on the summit than at sea level, and conditions can change in a matter of minutes. Over the course of our journey we alternated between walking through rainclouds and dealing with intense sun. Haleakalā may be one of the few 2-day hikes where sunscreen and a rain jacket are equally necessary.

Day One: Haleakalā Visitor Center to Palikū Cabin (8.9mi)

  • A view of the crater from the Haleakala summit
  • The endangered and endemic Hawaiian silversword
  • The descent into the crater
  • A fearless chukar, game birds introduced to Hawaii in the 1920’s
  • Traversing the crater floor
  • A path through the lava rock
  • Walking through a cloud
  • The endangered Hawaiian Goose or Nene
  • Approaching the Kaupo Gap
  • The Kaupo Gap from the Paliku Cabin

Our trip to Haleakalā started, like any other, at the crack of dawn. Though I conveniently had plans to bring my bag, tent, and other necessities with me on our trip to Hawaii (it was meant to be a restful little vacation before starting the AT), there were a handful of necessities that we had to purchase on island, most notably a Walmart sleeping bag for Emma. This proved easy enough, but did set us back an hour or two as we raced across the island and up to the top of the volcano. Winding our way towards the summit area by car, we passed a smiling hitchhiker holding out a crisp $20 bill. In an effort to build up some good karma, we stopped and gave him a free lift to the top. He had just finished a similar hike to the one we were planning and needed to get back to his car.

By the time we reached the mountaintop trailhead and had all our gear in order, it was around 1:00pm. As usual, we would be starting later than we had hoped. Fortunately, we were to begin with a few miles of downhill walking that afforded an opportunity to gain back some time. As we left the parking lot and stepped into the crater, we were struck by the same breathtaking scenery that had captivated us a couple of years prior. Thick clouds were swirling inside a melting pot of colorful stone. From above, the landscape looked smooth and coordinated. Clear lines separated red rock from brown, as if Pele herself had painted the volcano. Only as we descended could we grasp just how rough and inhospitable the landscape really was. Loose, sharp rock littered the crater floor and the ground was noticeably devoid of plant life, save for tiny wildflowers, scraggly bushes, and intermittent patches of the regal Hawaiian Silversword.

For those that have never seen a Hawaiian Silversword, they are a spectacular endemic plant evolved to survive in one of the harshest environments on earth. The endangered sub-species atop Haleakalā are only found on the volcano, generally growing in patches of green and silver rosettes where human or animal activity did not manage to wipe them out. As we descended deeper into the crater we could spot the dead and dry stalks of the select few plants that had bloomed earlier in the season. Silverswords may live up to 90 years and when their time comes, they go out with a final colorful display. A stalk covered in purple flowers suddenly emerges from the center of the plant and may rise as high as 6ft. before the whole plant dies and the seeds are left to scatter across the barren landscape. We had missed the bloom by a few months, but it provided a reason to return, just as our desire to sleep in the crater had driven us to back to the park this trip.

Having been to the crater before on a day where the weather was more cooperative, we hustled through the downhill section of the hike until we reached the bottom of the crater roughly four miles in. It was here a lone, weathered tree and a fork in the road marked the spot where we had turned around on our last hike. Only this time, we stayed true to the Sliding Sands trail and followed the signs towards the Kapaloa Cabin. This section of trail was pleasantly flat and remarkably barren. It was like an interplanetary journey between the smooth grey rock of the Moon and the ruddy orange of Mars. As we neared the cabin, there were two notable shifts in the environment. Firstly, thick clouds moved in that blocked out the sun and created the feeling that it was much later than it was. Though it never truly rained, it took minutes before everything we had was thoroughly soaked. We were like Silversword, pulling moisture directly from the clouds. The second gradual change was in the scenery. Near the cabin a layer of bleached green shrubs began to carpet the crater floor. As we passed further into the crater the undergrowth grew thicker. It appeared rough lava rock had taken the place of the dense volcanic ash on the crater floor, providing enough texture for plant life to gain a foothold.

After an hour of walking through a wet fog, the wind shifted and the cloud dispersed as quickly as it had come. Once again, we were trekking along under the blue Hawaiian skies, now enjoying a comparatively lush section of the trail. Within minutes the added visibility came in handy, for it allowed us to spot another one of Haleakalā’s rare, endemic species, the Nene or Hawaiian Goose. The mating pair was posing on a prominent lava rock, alert, but unperturbed by our presence. For minutes, we sat and watched the beautiful birds. Nene are the rarest species of goose in the world, and remarkable in that even though they are capable of flight, they almost never take to the air. This odd behavior obviously did not contribute well to their survival as colonization and globalization introduced hunting, feral cats, mongoose, and other threats to the islands. This drove the population down to around 30 birds by the 1950’s, though there are believed to be a couple thousand on the archipelago today.

Eventually, we bid farewell to our Nene friends and continued on our journey into the late afternoon. It wasn’t long before we encountered another goose, this one standing right in the middle of our path. He was considerably less friendly than the mating pair and refused to yield even as we patiently waited for the right of way. After a few minutes, we nervously shooed him off trail and continued on towards the Kaupo Gap. After rounding a sizeable cinder cone and making a small descent, we arrived in the gap. It was like a scene out of Jurassic Park. Tucked in amongst imposing, sheer cliffs was a small cabin surrounded by lush foliage. A thick grove of trees hugged the wall and crowded into small ravines as far up the escarpment as they could reach. A thin layer of fog hung in the valley, creating a spooky effect as the sun dipped below the walls of the caldera. We set up our tents then poked around a bit and chatted with our neighbors staying in the cabin. While conversing, a family of six Nene waddled out of the tall grass and began feasting on the green shrubs along the trail.

Darkness comes quickly atop Haleakalā and with it came a thick layer of clouds that brought a chill to the crater floor. We stayed up as long as we could in hopes of catching a magnificent starscape, but eventually drifted off and fell into a deep, well-earned sleep. It had been a long day, and we had an early morning ahead of us. We also were fully aware that we would need to earn back most of the 3,400ft. we had descended.

Day Two: Palikū Cabin to Halemau’u Trailhead (10.1mi)

  • Retracing our steps across the lava flow
  • A distant view of Mauna Kea on The Big Island
  • The rocky eastern section of the crater floor
  • Re-entering the main crater
  • The famous “paint pot”
  • Panoramic views just beyond the paint pot
  • A particularly barren section of the crater floor
  • Looking back across the lava flow
  • The harrowing ascent out of the crater
  • A view of the “world’s end” from the final section of the hike

At some point in the middle of the night, I stirred enough to remember to poke my head out of the tent and take a look at the sky. The Hawaiian volcanoes of Haleakalā, Mauna Loa, and Mauna Kea are known as some of the best spots in the world for stargazers, and I was blown away by what I saw. Though a layer of fog prevented a full view of the sky, a couple clear windows were filled with a dazzling display of stars. It was a difficult feeling to describe, one that I find myself in pursuit of on backpacking trips. In a quiet, remote location surrounded by natural beauty, I felt for second as if I was the only person on Earth. Eventually the chilly mountain air drove me deeper into my sleeping bag and back asleep.

Our hiking day started with the calming sounds of the morning breeze on our rainfly and a thousand little songbirds singing their way up and down the escarpment. Hoping to get some beach time in later in the afternoon, we took down camp quickly and departed early. There to greet us on the trail was the same angry Nene, approximately a mile out from the Paliku Cabin. This time he was even more steadfast in his aggressive defense of the trail. As we cautiously approached hoping to shoo him off, he hissed like a cat and beat his wings. It was quite possible he’d chosen a poor, high-traffic spot for a nest, but this gave us even more reason to stick to the trail. Eventually, I worked up the courage to bluff charge the brave bird, and he stepped off trail just far enough for us to scurry through.

With a little boost of adrenaline to wake us up, we retraced our steps around the O’ilipu’u cinder cone and back to the green covered lava fields. The terrain in this section was particularly rough, and while carefully watching our feet to avoid a tumble onto the sharp rock, we almost forgot to look back behind us. When we did, we were amazed by what we had seen. The morning fog had retreated, and now the clouds hung at the top of the escarpment. Periodically, a gust of wind would spill the white mist over the edge of the cliffs and into the crater, where it would quickly dissipate into nothing. The blue skies also provided a clear view through the Kaupo Gap, across the Pacific Ocean, and all the way to Mauna Kea on the Island of Hawaii approximately 100 miles away. It was a sight to behold.

Pushing forward again we took a right turn at the junction and hopped on to the Halemau’u Trail to explore a section of the park that was new to us. Compared to other areas of the crater it was particularly rough and rocky. In fact the trail led us across sections where the ground was so rough that plant life appeared unable to conquer it. As we gradually pushed uphill, however, the trail smoothed out and eventually we found ourselves back on the smooth Martian rock that we had looked out over from the top of the volcano the afternoon prior. This allowed us to pick up the pace again, and soon we were passing by Haleakalā landmarks such as the ‘Bottomless Pit’ (aka Kawilinau, a 65 ft. deep lava tube) and ‘Pele’s Paint Pot’ (a hillside smeared with streaks of particularly vibrant colored lava rock). The best part was, since we got an early start we had the crater and landmarks to ourselves. The day’s visitors still driving the long road to the summit or starting their long descent into the crater via the Sliding Sands Trail.

It wasn’t until we passed the Silversword Loop and reached the Holua Cabin that we finally encountered some other hikers. There we stopped to filter some water and have a snack. It was late morning by this point and starting to heat up. There was no semblance of shade in the crater so we packed a little extra water and hit the road, hoping to complete our climb out of the crater before the temperature neared the daily highs. Beyond the cabin, the trail led us through one of my favorite sections of the park, where an ancient lava flow had cascaded across the crater floor and spilled down the side of the volcano. We walked alongside imprinted lava tubes and bubbles of solid rock, staring out over the Ko’olau Gap. From where we stood, a flat plain seemed to stretch for another mile or so until, abruptly, the world ended. As we began our steep climb up the walls of the crater, the effect became even more pronounced. It was as if the edge of the Earth stood before us, go over it, and you would just disappear into the clouds below.

Though just about 2 miles from the parking lot, our work for the day had really just begun. We were facing a climb up to the crater rim across a brutal stretch of switchbacks rising well over 1,000ft. in elevation. It was hot out at this point but we powered through, fueled by ever more expansive and impressive views of the crater below. Covered in sweat, we eventually reached an viewpoint known as the Rainbow Bridge, and for the final time admired the crater from which we had come. Satisfied and feeling accomplished, we hiked a gradual half mile out to the hiker pick up point and started hitchhiking. Within 10min, a convertible pulled over with a family inside. They only had room for one, so I grabbed the keys and hopped in for an enjoyable open air ride on a sunny day. A thick layer of clouds covered the lowlands, but we towered above. If felt like I was riding on the wing of an airplane. At the top, I bid farewell to my knew friends, grabbed the car, and began a long ride back to society, picking up Emma along the way.

Alternate Itineraries

There are a web of trails that cover the Haleakalā Crater and create several opportunities to customize your route. The primary decision one has to make is where to finish your hike. We elected to optimize for both scenery and simplicity of logistics by wrapping at the Halemau’u Trailhead. That being said, you could finish at the other trailheads

  • Summit (Keonehe’ehe’e Trailhead): This option makes the trail a true loop and removes the need to hitchhike altogether. It does however, bypass the Hōlua Cabin and Ko’olau Gap wilderness area entirely which is a very scenic and unique part of the crater.
  • Hosmer Grove Campground: Finishing at Hosmer Grove increases the route length, but does make for a potentially difficult hitchhiking situation as the trailhead is off the main route to the summit.

I should also note that one can also begin their hike at any of these three trailheads. In fact, beginning at the Halemau’u Trailhead is commonplace as it allows hikers to knock out the steepest section of the trail while going downhill. Still, I strongly recommend beginning at the summit as the descent into Haleakalā crater is magical.

Alternate route – Kaupo Gap: A significant variation on the route is to follow the Kaupo Gap Trail from the Palikū Cabin down the mountain and to the coast. This allows for exploration of a new section of the park and provides the satisfaction of going all the way from summit to sea, or sea to summit if you prefer a masochistic climb. Fair warning, much of the Kaupo Gap trail is outside the National Park boundary and is known to be poorly marked and maintained. It also is a bit of a logistic nightmare as the Kaupo region is notoriously difficult to get to from the more populated parts of the island. While we originally set out to follow this route, we were dissuaded after reading accounts such as the one by Halfway Anywhere.

Additional Sources

Extended Trips / Thru-Hike Packing List

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Extended Trips / Thru-HikE Packing List

How to Use This List

In my Standard Gear Packing List I opened with a joke about how you can really get a backpacker going by talking gear. This is even more accurate when engaging a thru-hiker on the topic. At the risk of kicking the hornets nest, I will do my best to share what I have in my pack when going on a longer adventure. I would consider this list of items to be most appropriate if you plan to hike 100+ miles or 7+ days unsupported. I’m not sure that meets the technical definition of a thru-hike, but it is definitely when you are going to start to feel every ounce in that pack.

As you go through a list like the one below and make your own decisions about what to buy, bring, or leave at home, you may be wondering what an appropriate weight is for you. In general, hikers use a metric called ‘base weight’ as a benchmark to determine whether their loadout is light enough for a particular adventure. Base weight refers to the weight of your fully-loaded pack minus consumables such as food, water, and fuel. Like everything else gear-related, a target base weight will vary based on a number of factors such as trip length, resupply frequency (i.e., the weight of your consumables), weather conditions, and what you are personally capable of carrying. For most thru-hikers, 15 pounds (~7kg) may serve as a decent target. Those serious about ultralight principles may find themselves in the ballpark of 10 pounds (~5kg).

Finally, because this list is presumably for a more advanced audiences I will skip a lot of the commentary and extra fluff included in my standard list. If you are looking for a little more expansive list of what to pack, I would recommend starting with this post: Standard Gear Packing List.

The Big Ticket Essentials

These are the large, must-have items that will probably account for around half of the weight on your back. Size and weight are important to consider when selecting which ‘big ticket’ items will be a good fit for your trip.

  1. Backpack: There are several ultralight backpacks on the market, but they are expensive. In a long trip, you can generally get by with your standard backpack. If you are doing a true thru-hike (several months on the trail) I would definitely consider something like the Hyperlite Mountain Gear 3400 Southwest.
  2. Tent: This is a worthy place to cut some weight. I have typically operated with the Flashlight 1 UL by Sierra Designs or the Fly Creek HV UL2 by Big Agnes. The hardiest of thru-hikers often swear by no-tent solution and will use a tarp supported by hiking poles.
  3. Sleeping bag: This will often be the bulkiest item in one’s pack and is a high potential place to drop pack weight and volume. There are plenty of great bags on the market, but decisions around which is most appropriate for you should be made by taking into account trip length and possible weather conditions.
  4. Sleeping mat: There are several inflatable options that are small, lightweight, and generally more comfortable, but many thru-hikers prefer to carry an egg-crate style mat like the NEMO Switchback as they are more versatile (can be folded into a seat in camp) and durable (can be strapped externally to a pack).

Eating & Drinking

  1. Stove: I highly recommend the miniature MSR PocketRocket if fuel canisters will be available on your trip. If you need a more versatile stove, the MSR Whisperlite Universal can process all types of fuel including “dirty gases” .
  2. Fuel / fuel canister: Portable canisters, if available, are great for the PocketRocket stove. A refillable bottle may otherwise be necessary for storing various types of fuel.
  3. Matches / lighter
  4. Water treatment: I always carry a SteriPen in addition to a water filter. You can cut weight by shifting to the boiling method, but it will slow you down and use up more of your fuel.
  5. Pots / pans / mugs: Consider limiting yourself to a single ultralight pot like the TOAKS 900ml.
  6. Utensils
  7. Water bottles: Many thru-hikers will re-use large plastic water bottles due to their lower weight. Smartwater bottles fit nicely into most backpack compartments.

Other Must Haves

  1. Map & compass: Safety first, even for badass thru-hikers.
  2. GPS / PLB: This goes from a ‘really, really good idea’ to a ‘must-have’ on a multi-day journey. Again, safety first. I love my Garmin InReach Explorer.
  3. First aid kit: One last time for the folks in the back: safety first.
  4. Headlamp: I still use a Black Diamond Spot.
  5. Multi-tool / knife: I still find one helpful for a variety of reasons. Carrying a Leatherman Squirt is a base weight-friendly option for long journeys.
  6. Toiletries: If you are going far enough that “holding it” is off the table, a trowel becomes a must have.
  7. Sunscreen and/or bug spray: Still essentials. You will find a bug net to be lighter than spray.

Comfort Items

One can debate the necessity of items in this section, but a little bit of comfort can go a long way on a thru-hike. These are the items that I keep in my pack on multi-week adventures.

  1. Hiking poles: Though poles are considered optional, I only leave them behind on the shortest of trips. They provide a lot of benefits in terms of stability on uneven surfaces, joint relief when moving downhill, and prevention against swelling in your hands. Savvy ultra-lighters often use them to replace tent stakes as well.
  2. Microfiber towel: In an attempt to preserve some baseline level of hygiene while on the trail, I rarely travel without a mini towel. They dry almost instantly in direct sun and weigh next to nothing.
  3. Body glide: My secret weapon in the constant battle against chafing, I never go more than a few miles without my Body Glide balm. They also make Foot Glide for protecting against blisters.
  4. Solar charger: Likely a necessity to keep your GPS and/or phone charged on a longer journey, Goal Zero and Anker are two popular and well-reviewed brands.

Clothing

The packing list should largely match that of standard backpacking trips minus a few redundant items. I would recommend something like:

  1. Hiking boots: Though trail runners may be appropriate as a lightweight option for many adventures.
  2. 2x socks and underwear
  3. 2x shirts
  4. 2x pants: One short, one long. Shorts with built-in liners may provide some additional value to those concerned about only carrying two pairs of underwear.
  5. Warm layer
  6. Waterproof layer

Additional Ultralight Tips

Here are a few assorted tips for maximizing utility and minimizing space within your pack. For brevity, I omitted some of the sillier, less impactful tricks such as ‘sawing the handle off your toothbrush.’

  • Make a pillow out of a stuff sack and clothes: Inflatable pillows are a luxury best left off the packing list for long-distance journeys. Instead, I will fill the stuff sack for my sleeping bag with leftover clothes and use that for support while sleeping instead.
  • Choose calorically dense foods: Food can account for a significant portion of pack weight, especially if re-supply points are few and far between. To optimize for this, I recommend selecting foodstuffs that are calorically dense. For example: nuts, oats, dried fruits, hard cheeses and energy bars tend to have a much better ratio of calories per ounce than breads, crackers, chips, processed foods, and some pastas.
  • Use a single pot: Dishes outside of a single pot should be considered luxury items and can be left behind. Using one pot for cooking, boiling water, and eating out of is a great way to keep base weight in check.
  • Deconstruct packaging before departing: This may be intuitive, but I always repack my food into Ziploc bags before leaving on a hike. Not only will it save space, but mixing things like my nightly helping of rice and lentils ahead of time can help with portion control and make dinner time more efficient. This logic applies to packing gear as well. I often carry some duct tape with me in case of emergency, but am sure to take a more reasonable amount off the roll to avoid unnecessary ounces.
  • Use a Smartwater bottle: I love my Nalgene, but Smartwater makes large bottles that weight nearly nothing and fit nicely into the mesh pockets of most standard backpacks. They aren’t as durable, so be careful, but they are generally much more efficient weight-wise than other reusable bottles. Large Gatorade bottles are another alternative.
  • Bring just a shell for a waterproof layer / windbreaker: Odds are that if you have a proper warm layer you will just need a thin ‘shell’ to get through your hike. Jackets can be exceptionally bulky so there is no sense in having two heavy insulating layers when one will do. If waterproof pants feel necessary for your trip, the same logic applies.
  • Bring meals that can be ‘cold soaked’: Admittedly, I am not a fan of this approach as I love a warm meal at the end of a long day, but some through thru-hikers may limit themselves to meals that can be prepared through ‘cold soaking.’ Taking this approach significantly reduces base weight by eliminating the need for a stove, fuel canister, and pot.
  • Leave your tent behind: This is another tip that I don’t abide by personally, but creating shelter out of a rain fly and trekking poles does eliminate the need for a bulky tent, saving significant space and weight.

Feedback

What did I miss? Do you have any additional tips for introducing ultralight principles to your loadout? Please let me know your thoughts in the comments below.

Disclaimer: I do not receive any compensation for recommending these products and all opinions / recommendations are solely based on my own experiences

Minong Ridge Trail

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Minong Ridge Trail

Isle Royale National Park, Michigan

Length: 50.9mi (81.9km)
Days: 5-6
Difficulty: Hard (no facilities, isolation, rough terrain, and bugs)
Gear: Standard + GPS/PLB recommended
Completed: June 2022

In summary: At any given time there are likely more moose on Isle Royale than there are hikers, and that about sums up all you need to know about the Minong Ridge Trail, especially if you are an avid backpacker seeking solitude within an increasingly crowded parks system. Few places in America outside of Alaska or the Greater Yellowstone Ecosystem are better for spotting wildlife (we enjoyed double-digit moose sightings), plus the surrounding island scenery isn’t too bad either. The Minong is regarded as the isle’s most rugged and challenging backpacking route, which only adds to the adventure. You might battle through long travel, bugs, unpredictable weather, and real elevation swings, but the opportunity to camp under the northern lights on a remote island largely unblemished by human activity is worth it a thousand times over.

Preparation / Know Before You Go

Book your travel to the island well in advance: There are only two methods for getting to the remote Isle Royale, one is expensive and the other is quite time consuming. Despite the cost, I am a huge promoter of the Isle Royale Seaplane as it is by far the most convenient way to access the isle. Unlike the ferries, the seaplanes run seven days a week and offer multiple departure times over the course of the day. Also, unless you have access to a private boat, the park can only be accessed from three mainland towns: Grand Portage MN (ferry & plane), Houghton, MI (ferry & plane), and Copper Harbor, MI (ferry only).

The park closes seasonally: Isle Royale is only open each year from April 16 – October 31, making it one of just a handful of national parks that close seasonally. The timeframe for visiting may be even shorter if you don’t have access to a boat though, as the ferry and seaplane have even more constrained operating seasons. These seasons are weather dependent, but generally run from around mid-May through the end of September.

Bring bug spray & bug nets: Hordes of mosquitoes and biting black flies are present on the island and their presence tends to correspond with the peak visitation season from June to July. Experienced visitors recommend treating clothes and gear with permethrin spray before arriving on the island, but we were able to survive with DEET-based bug spray. There exist some pretty dramatic accounts of the Isle Royale bugs, but with copious amounts of OFF! we found them to be a tolerable nuisance. Bug nets add an extra layer of protection and go a long way for providing peace of mind.

Do not rely on the weather report: I don’t believe there is a weather station on Isle Royale and my hypothesis is that when you search the park on a weather app it is pulling data from Houghton, MI over 70mi. away. We had planned for a week of dreary rain based on our 10-day forecast and instead found ourselves battling through 90F heat on exposed ridges. The reading from Grand Portage, MN might be your best bet for an accurate forecast, but in reality, you should be prepared for anything.

The northern lights: The opportunity to see the northern lights (or ‘aurora borealis’) with minimal light pollution is a huge draw to the island. The timing of the borealis, however, can be difficult to predict. Visibility depends on a number of factors including cloud cover and the current sun cycle. Though it is imperfect, the best predictive tool I have found for measuring your chances of seeing the lights is this dashboard from NOAA. Hopefully you have more luck than us.

Pronunciation: You will hear all sorts of pronunciations of the park’s name, even from local Michiganders, but the technically correct one is “eye-el roy–uhl” not “eye-el roy-al”.

Day One: Windigo to Huginnin Cove (4.6mi)

  • Aerial view of the isle’s southwest end
  • Dense forests from the airplane window
  • Our first moose sighting
  • Climbing over one of many treefalls
  • Huginnin Cove at sunset
  • Our campsite along the cove

All adventures to Isle Royale begin well before the trailhead. For us, it began in the parking lot of Isle Royal Seaplanes, condensing our packs, weighing our gear, and steeling ourselves for what had the potential to be a bumpy plane ride through stormy conditions. In actuality, our journey had started 6 months earlier as we tried to figure the logistics of getting to the least visited national park in the lower forty-eight. For the purpose of the retelling however, I will skip over that part.

Promptly 15 minutes before we were scheduled to depart on the last flight of the day, we watched as our plane appeared over the nearby hills, narrowly cleared the nearby Portage Canal Bridge, and landed in the water right in front of us. A dirty, but happy, group of hikers clambered out, still reminiscing about their time on the island. Right after them came the pilot, who imparted to us the importance of packing up rapidly so that we could be wheels up before the looming storm reached Houghton. Not wanting to relive my experience in New Zealand, we acquiesced and were soon a few thousand feet above Lake Superior, watching distant lightning strikes through the plane’s window.

After approximately 25 minutes in the air, the Isle Royale started to come into view and pending another 15, we found ourselves rounding the mouth of Washington Harbor and preparing to land. As we descended, the pilot pointed out a nearby bald eagle’s nest, at which point an adult eagle flew the coop and passed directly under our plane. It felt like an omen, an auspicious start to an unforgettable trip.

Once docked at Windigo, we popped into the small general store to register our trip and purchase some fuel. With supplies procured we made a quick exit, hoping to get a few miles in and reach Huginnin Cove before it got too dark. Already it was approaching 5:30pm and the overcast made it feel even later. The long summer days of northern Michigan would ensure that daylight was never an issue on the Minong Ridge, but none the wiser we hustled to the trailhead. Almost immediately, we were swallowed by the island’s thick boreal forests. Shrouded under the dense canopy we wove our way around Washington Harbor and began to follow a narrow ravine to the island’s western coast. Along the way, we talked excitedly about what was ahead and our desire to spot a few members of the island’s famous moose population.

To our surprise, it didn’t take long at all. Only an hour or so in, we found ourselves standing face-to-face with a young cow no more than 20 meters away. We nearly missed her. As we talked and walked on by the moose had stood frozen, patiently waiting for us to pass. It wasn’t until she was almost behind us that we noticed a large figure watching us from just beside the trail. After a split-second of panic, we paused to watch the beautiful creature. Eventually, she became comfortable with our presence and began grazing, working her way over a grove of saplings until the prime leaves led her out of sight. It was an incredible moment, but its reign as the highlight of the day lasted only until we arrived at Huginnin Cove. There we enjoyed dinner and a magnificent island sunset from our beachfront campsite. To this day, the spot remains amongst the best sites I have had the privilege of staying in.

Day Two: Huginnin Cove to North Lake Desor (13.9mi)

  • The morning light on Huginnin Cove
  • Moving through the dense forest
  • Our first look at the top of the Minong Ridge
  • One of a thousand beaver ponds on the isle
  • A tedious, muddy crossing
  • A narrow boardwalk across the swamp
  • A regenerating burn zone with Greenstone Ridge in the distance
  • Another beaver pond
  • The ridge just before Lake Desor
  • Lake Desor peeking through an aspen grove

There are few better ways to start a day than waking up at dawn to the meditative sound of gentle waves at your own private beach. Had I had a mattress and a real pillow, I may never have gotten up. The hard ground takes its toll however, and after a few minutes of relaxation, we unzipped our tent and stepped out into the pre-dawn light. A pot of coffee and pack of oatmeal later, we were on our way along Isle Royale’s western shore. Before reconnecting with the main route of the Minong, we enjoyed a few miles of scenic coastal walking, accentuated by natural arches, sea stacks, and uninterrupted views of the Minnesotan-Canadian coastline. The decision to weave the Huginnin Cove loop into our journey along the Minong was one we made at the last minute, but I would highly recommend it to anyone else looking to maximize their time on the island.

Just before we arrived at the trail’s junction and officially stepped foot on the Minong Ridge, our day really started. Abruptly, the trail pointed us away from the coastline and up a gnarly switchback. Again, we were making our way into the heart of the thick northern forests that seemed to blanket almost the entire island. For the next couple miles, we would track the thin dirt path through the woods until the trees gradually began to thin and we appeared atop a rocky clearing. A look down upon the forest canopy below signaled that we were now on the Minong.

Spoiled by the gentle grade and coastal breeze of our morning mileage, we were soon forced to adjust to “the ridge” portion of the trek. What had steadily led us up almost immediately sent us back down. Little did we know, this exhausting pattern of ascents and descents would come to define the remainder of the day.

At the bottom of our first “bump” along the ridge, we came across a beaver pond, and to our surprise, the trail led us right across the top of the dam. This dam wasn’t so much a pile of sticks as it was a line of logs reinforced by tufts of tall grass. Thus, a crossing was possible but exceptionally tedious. Our walking sticks offered little help as they simply plunged through the muck when leaned on for balance. Just when we thought we all would make it safely across, Jordan suddenly lost his footing and found himself knee deep in the swamp. A new pair of socks and a lot of laughs later, we regrouped and were on our way again.

Through the remainder of the day, we soldiered on, steadily chipping away at our mileage and hoping for an early arrival at Lake Desor. The sun was out, and the set of exposed ridges offered little respite from the building heat. When stopping for water or to empty gravel from our boots, we often were forced to make a difficult choice between baking on the ridge or facing a swarm of mosquitos in the buggy lowland shade. Nonetheless, it was another memorable day on the trail. We added to our moose tally (surprising one that was headed our way on the trail), enjoyed several panoramic viewpoints, honed our dam-crossing abilities, and best of all, experienced everything in near-total solitude.

By the time the heat and constant change in elevation really began to wear us down, a sliver of blue peeked through an aspen grove due east, giving us our first glimpse of Lake Desor. This proved to be the morale boost necessary to propel us over the last few bumps and down into camp. We rounded out the evening with a well-earned meal and rejuvenating soak in Lake Desor.

Day Three: North Lake Desor to Todd Harbor (10.7mi)

  • Looking out towards Canada on a cloudy morning
  • Two sturdy beaver dams
  • A narrow stretch along the Minong
  • A discrete river crossing
  • The precarious crossing
  • Walking alongside an inland swamp
  • A late afternoon moose sighting
  • Another shot of the curious moose

Sunrise at Lake Desor could not have come soon enough. The more I have hiked over the years, the more I have come to believe that there is a sort of supernatural force governing life on the trail, enforcing a sense of balance. Climbs are followed by descents, easy miles by hard, and in this case a great night’s sleep was followed up by a restless one. Despite being relatively close to the water, we lacked the cool coastal breeze that made Huginnin Cove so peaceful. That made for a muggy evening that I, in particular, suffered through. Still, it was nothing that a strong cup of black coffee couldn’t fix.

The hiking began almost exactly how it had ended the day prior. Doubling back out of camp, we climbed our way right back onto the bumpy Minong Ridge route. Whatever grogginess that lingered from my poor night’s sleep was soon shaken off as the early mileage tested our cardio. Fortunately, we were able to sneak a couple of the harder morning miles in while a thin fog cooled the isle.

After traversing a handful of steep bumps and passing by the largest beaver dam I had ever seen, the fog began to burn off and the temperatures steadily rose. On the bright side, this brought improved views of Lake Superior and the Canadian shoreline across the way. To pass the time during ridgetop snack breaks, I began using my Isle Royale map, Garmin InReach, and questionable sense of direction to make dubious claims about the landmasses we were looking at in the distance. By the end of the hike, plans to visit Thunder Bay and Sleeping Giant Park for our next backpacking trip were in motion.

Another memorable moment from one of our day three snack breaks occurred when we heard a peculiar noise echoing from a valley below. Curious, we scanned the swampland and thick forests a few hundred feet below before we saw the movement of a moose grazing on the edge of a shallow pond. Every so often she would stop and let out a deep bellow. On the second or third instance of these calls, we saw movement again, out of the tall grass came a small calf. Thrilled, we watched as the calf awkwardly wobbled through the swamp to rejoin mom before they both began a slow retreat in search of greener pastures. It was a wonderful sight and one that we had a chance to share with two southbound hikers 15 minutes later when they asked if we had encountered a moose yet. After they longingly told us they had yet to see one after three days along the Minong, the moment felt even more special.

The midpoint of our third day on trail came right as we stumbled upon a lush grassy clearing just beside a small waterfall and rushing spring. Nestled in between two steep sections of the Minong ridge, it appeared the perfect spot to refill our water bottles, wash the unmentionables, and soak our feet. The only downside was that there was no break from the afternoon sun, so we elected to postpone lunch until we were further downstream. Once the packs were back on and we were ready to get rolling again, we noticed one small issue – the trail had disappeared. From where we stood, we had two options, we could follow a series of faint game trails that abutted the stream’s edge, or we could cross on an unsecured log. Hoping to avoid the possibility of taking an unexpected swim, we decided to test the game trails. After each one eventually petered out, we agreed we would have to try the log. One by one, we made the precarious crossing and fortunately nobody took a dip. Across, we noticed where a clear section of the trail picked back up and climbed our way back onto the ridge.

The remainder of our afternoon mileage largely followed this long, continuous, and densely forested section of the Minong. We never did end up crossing the stream again, and after coming to terms with the likelihood that my Garmin had tricked us, we stopped for a buggy trailside lunch. Nevertheless, it was a pleasant afternoon. Detached from the incessant ups and downs of the Minong’s most difficult section, we cruised along the isle’s spine and into camp where two more thrills awaited us.

Firstly, perhaps a quarter mile away from Todd Harbor, we were startled by a crashing sound to our left, just off the trail. There, we spotted another moose a dozen yards away, this time fully grown. She stared curiously at us for a few seconds, likely assessing our intentions, then resumed her grazing. With beaver pond to our right preventing any detour, we eventually inched too close along the trail and she took off crashing through the woods. Our second thrill came when we finally arrived and saw the magnificent little lakeside beach that lined the Todd Harbor camp. It wasn’t quite as private as Huginnin Cove, but the sweeping views of Lake Superior were just as breathtaking. We grabbed the last available site in the campground (it wasn’t too crowded, but there were only 6 or 8 spots) and made a beeline for the water.

Day Four: Todd Harbor to East Chickenbone Lake (8.7mi)

  • Todd Harbor just before an early departure
  • Otter Lake with Sleeping Giant Park visible across the channel
  • The beautiful McCargoe Cove
  • The Voyageur II ferry dropping off passengers at McCargoe
  • A beaver dam
  • And the dam’s hard-working creator
  • A moose grazing in the swamp
  • Chickenbone Lake from the eastern end
  • One of about four turtles that visited our campground
  • A beautiful fox that came dashing through camp

Coming off our second difficult day on the trail and a poor night of sleep, we decided to take our sweet time leaving Todd Harbor. By the time we rose and fired up the stove for some pancakes, only our neighbors were left in camp. A friendly father-daughter duo, they were taking their journey slowly, a few miles at a time. I envied them as we tried to get our legs moving again, feeling the effects of the days prior on our legs and shoulders. Still, spirits were high as we departed knowing that we had a shorter hike in store.

The walking started leisurely enough as we plodded northward, immersed in the forest despite remaining within a thousand or so feet of shore. After about an hour, it picked up. The trail sent us right back up a tall ridge that got the quads burning again and brought flashbacks of days two and three. Fortunately, this time the stretch of rapid elevation change didn’t last long and after some scenic views of Otter and Beaver Lake, we descended towards McCargoe Cove.

As we rolled into McCargoe just after noon, two things immediately stood out. The first was how picturesque it was, sitting at the base of a long inlet of placid blue water. While our campsite at Todd Harbor left little to be desired, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy as we passed the handful of wood huts and tent sites that looked over the cove. The second observation was how crowded it was. Now, on Isle Royale it only takes twelve people to constitute a crowd, but it still struck us as odd. We hadn’t seen a soul on the trail since Todd Harbor and it was still early for making camp. Additionally, many in the group seemed to lack gear that would suggest they were prepared for a night in the backcountry. Approximately 30 minutes later, the distant hum of an engine broke the silence of the cove and our questions about the group were answered. I had forgotten McCargoe Cove was one of the few ferry stops that provided day hikers and campers alike access to the west side of the island. As the Voyageur II arrived, we watched the group pack up and chatted with some rangers while preparing lunch. We were hoping for tips on where to find the bizarre bleeding tooth fungus, but sadly learned our odds were low around this part of the island. Eventually the ferry departed the way she came, and we were alone on the dock until a moose appeared on the opposite side of the cove, wading into the water to graze on some aquatic plants.

The hours ticked by as we sat near the McCargoe dock with the quiet confidence of backpackers who have just a few miles to go and plenty of daylight. Eventually, Chickenbone Lake beckoned and we resumed our journey by following the general path of our friend, the aquatic moose, who had disappeared into a nearby swamp. In a short while, the trail turned muddy and we soon found that several of the logs or boardwalks but it place by the park service had been submerged. It seemed the beaver dams that dotted the area were changing the landscape faster than the rangers could keep up. Fortunately, we had acquired a level of surefootedness from all of our earlier dam crossings and the muddy intersections no longer posed such a severe obstacle.

During what was probably our third successive dam crossing, a movement in the nearby water caught my eye and forced me to do a double take. Swimming in the little pond he had created was a beaver! Growing up in the Pacific Northwest, I was very familiar with beaver dams and ponds, but in all my time hiking and exploring I had never seen one. I’d gradually reached the point that even though we had already passed probably 50 dams on the Minong, it never remotely occurred to me that we could be lucky enough to see one of the inhabitants. I was overjoyed and held up the group for at least 20 minutes watching until he disappeared below the surface for what appeared to be the last time. Perhaps a hundred yards beyond the dam, we spotted our second moose of the day, grazing in a nearby swamp, but if felt like such an insignificant sighting compared to the beaver.

Just before 4pm, we arrived at our campsite for the evening – East Chickenbone Lake. In spite of the name, the site was, to our dismay, pretty far from the actual lake. In need of water for the evening, we set up camp and then made the steep trek down to the lakeshore. There we filled all the containers we had with water and for the third consecutive night had a proper bath. The water access point itself was quite treacherous and involved stepping over a silty slime that coated the bottom of the lake. Ironically, I teased our friend Jordan, the last one in, about the biting fish and sea lampreys that would probably take a liking to our blistered feet only to find a leech between my toes as I stepped out.

This was not the last strange occurrence of the evening. As we returned to camp exhausted and ready for bed, we drifted into some sort of wildlife witching hour. Soon, our camp was overrun with turtles who appeared to have climbed up the hill from a nearby swamp. Though they generally feared us, they made their way around camp poking around our tents and examining all of our gear. Then later, just as we were brushing our teeth and preparing to turn in, a gorgeous red fox ran right through the middle of our camp coming within a few feet of Emma as she stood frozen. It was so bizarre, the fox clearly saw and heard us but seemed to pay no mind as he went about his way.

Day Five: East Chickenbone Lake to Three Mile (10.3mi)

  • One of our last Canadian vistas along the Greenstone Ridge
  • Descending the Minong for the final time
  • Thick bushes disguising a muddy swamp
  • The dock and beach at Moskey Basin
  • A garter snake returning from an afternoon swim
  • A walk along the Lake Superior shoreline
  • Lake Superior near Three Mile
  • The setting sun from our lakeside campground

Our final full day in the backcountry got off to an uneventful, yet ceremonious, start as we packed up and descended the small hill that we had camped on the night before. At the bottom, within a few hundred yards of camp, we came to a fork in the road. Though we continued straight on through, this marked the technical end of the Minong Ridge trail, a bittersweet landmark despite the fact we still had a dozen miles to go. From this point forward, were officially walking on ‘The Greenstone,’ Isle Royale’s other famous cross-island trek.

The day began with another climb onto a rolling ridge that, while still taxing on tired legs, paled in comparison to the steep grade and rough terrain that we had encountered on the Minong. Another thing we immediately found to be different as part of The Greenstone was the traffic. The route was by no means crowded, but within a mile or so of hiking we passed two other groups of backpackers who were undertaking a popular lollipop that loops around Moskey Basin and Lake Livermore. One of the parties consisted of a couple, coming in from West Chickenbone who we leapfrogged a couple times as our group would stop for water or to dig fruit snacks out the food bag. At a particularly scenic viewpoint not too far from Mount Ojibway, we crossed paths again and asked them to take our photo. Little did we know, that would be our last panoramic view from one of the Isle’s beloved ridges. Soon after, we reached another fork, took a right turn off the Greenstone, and descended towards the Daisy Farm campground, which was nestled right along the lakeshore.

There is always something so satisfying about finishing a long trek along a large body of water. It serves as the perfect finish line and as we pulled up to the Daisy Farm dock to look out over the lake, I could tell each of us was feeling that sense of catharsis. The thin crowd of people milling about the island’s largest campground only added to this effect. Though we still had miles ahead, we decided to soak it in and take a long break. We ate, read, slept, and poked around camp without the oppressive weight of our packs. By the time we moved on to make the short trip down the coast and past the lighthouse to Three Mile, we were feeling refreshed, ready for another fifty miles. When we rolled into camp and found no vacant sites, even that could not break our spirits. Eventually, we located a kind hiker who was only mildly annoyed to have to share his private beachside site with a group of backpackers. Later that evening someone in camp informed that a dead moose was decomposing near one of the other sites. The repugnant smell apparently resulting in a few closures and significantly reducing the capacity of the small camp.

Day Six: Three Mile to Rock Harbor (2.7mi)

  • The morning route towards Rock Harbor
  • More views from the shoreline path
  • The view from atop Suzy’s Cave
  • Suzy’s Cave
  • Ducklings snuggled up near Rock Harbor
  • From a day hike to Scoville Point
  • Scoville Point
  • The Rock Harbor lodge around dusk

Though only a couple miles stood between us and celebratory beers at the Rock Harbor Lodge, we decided to start our day at dawn in hopes of beating the rest of the Three Mile crowd to the premium sites. In spite of our best efforts, the plan was eventually foiled by a particularly slow-to-rise crowd around the Rock Harbor campground. Nonetheless, the rush out of camp proved well worth it as we had one of the busiest, most scenic stretches of the trail to ourselves.

Embracing the calm, sleepy aura of the isle at dawn, we hiked largely in silence, accompanied by the sound of gentle waves lapping against the protected harbor. We didn’t stop until about halfway through our journey, when we took a short break at a trailside landmark known as Suzy’s Cave. As we polished off our supply of CLIF Bars and Welch’s fruit snacks (a personal favorite when hiking) for breakfast, I took a few minutes to poke around and do some extremely elementary spelunking. After clambering uphill to the mouth of the cave, I decided to crawl through to the other side of the shallow passage. There, I came upon a series of footpaths that led up the back side of the large rockface that the inland sea arch had been carved into. When I reached the top, I was faced with a magnificent view of Rock Harbor that seemed a fitting finale for a tough, but memorable, week. Just as I had finished soaking in some of my last moments on the trail and was prepared to head back down, a fox emerged from behind some bushes a few feet away. Upon recognizing my presence, he paused, calmly sat, and stared curiously forward. After a brief moment, he gave a short nod, as if to congratulate me on the completion of our journey, and subsequently disappeared down the hillside towards the rest of the group. It seemed a symbolic ending to an wonderful trip.

When we rolled into Rock Harbor an hour or so later, it was hard not to feel the excitement in the air. The small island “town” was a busy mix of recent arrivals and soon-to-be departures. Everyone was enthused about what they had experienced or were to experience on the island. After snagging our first wooden shelter of the trip, we made our way down towards the lodge with the whole day ahead of us. Deciding it was still too early for a pile of food and flight of beers, we elected to take another hike out to Scoville Point. It was rejuvenating to be moving around without the deadening weight of our packs and the hike turned out to be wonderful. Surprisingly, the wildlife on this end of the isle was quite active as well. Before finishing our little side quest, we had spotted nesting bald eagles, a family of sandhill cranes, and a mating pair of common loons.

With our hiking finally complete, we passed the remainder of our time on the island eating, drinking, and playing board games borrowed from the lodge. We made friends with several other groups of visitors, mostly visitors to the lodge who were generally eager to hear about what life was like on the Minong. Though we settled down for an early night’s sleep, we made plans for one last adventure: a 2:00am walkabout in search of the Northern Lights. Though the aurora ultimately eluded us, we did get a final thrill when we encountered a bull moose, no more than 10 meters away, in the pitch black.

Alternate Itineraries

There are a handful of side treks that you can do from the Minong Ridge Traverse and route modifications are encouraged. We added a sojourn to Huginnin Cove and found it to be our favorite campsite of the trip. Perhaps the most important logistical decision you will have to make in planning the Minong is whether to hike eastbound (Windigo –> Rock Harbor) as we did, or westbound (Rock Harbor –> Windigo), as most others do. This choice will have quite an impact on your overall experience, so to help, I have done my best to layout the advantages of each:

  • Northbound:
    • Allows you to get the hardest section out of the way first
    • Grants opportunity to finish with a burger and brews at the Rock Harbor Lodge
    • Ends in a part of the park with more day hikes and activities in case you finish early or with unused buffer days. This also comes in handy if you have the misfortune of facing flight / ferry delays or cancellations due to bad weather. These cancellations are uncommon, but not rare
  • Southbound:
    • Offers a more gradual ascent into the steeper section of the trail, best for those who would prefer to acclimate themselves with the rigors of backpacking
    • Allows you to finish strong with the hardest sections (pack will be lighter)
    • You can enjoy a more social experience with hikers headed your direction
    • Can lead to arrival at more crowded campsites earlier in the day (Three Mile, Daisy Farm)

Additional Sources

The Boy Scout Trail

on By

The Boy Scout Trail

Joshua Tree Natl. Park, California

Length: 16mi. (25.7km.), with extensions 23.5mi. (37.8km.)
Days: 2
Difficulty: Easy (trails clear and elevation gain reasonable, but beware of extreme temperatures)
Gear: Standard gear + extra water (no source along route)
Completed: April 2022

In summary: Due to its hot and rather unforgiving environment, Joshua Tree is not particularly known for backpacking. However, if you are determined and willing to take some extra precautions, most local experts would recommend fulfilling your sense of wanderlust on the Boy Scout Trail. An out-and-back trek that spans 8mi. each way, the Boy Scout Trail offers a look into the variety of landscapes that make up the Mojave portion of the park. Groves of the eponymous Joshua Tree dot the first portion of the hike, while the latter half serves up impressive mountain vistas and sunscapes. The possibility of spotting some elusive bighorn sheep or the rare desert tortoise only adds to the hike.

Preparation / Know Before You Go

Register before you hit the trail: Though permit availability does not limit the supply of backpackers in Joshua Tree, you are required to register for safety reasons. Your car is at risk of being searched / towed if you have not registered.

There is no water: There are no reliable water sources along the route, so it is critical that day hikers and backpackers alike bring extra water. To help us complete the journey without a cache, we packed food that did not need to be cooked or rehydrated.

Extreme heat is common: Keep an eye on the forecast and prepare for the extreme. There is practically no shade along the entire route and the park service recommends tourists avoid all long hikes when temps approach triple digits. For this reason, avoid the trail (and Joshua Tree altogether) in the summer months. Sunscreen and sunglasses are a must as the desert rock is reflective, only adding to the sun’s intensity.

Consider adding in some side hikes: The Boy Scout Trail itself is an 8 mile out-and-back, but a handful of side trails branch off from the main trail. Consider adding in some variety by including side routes like Willow Hole or the Big Pine trail.

Camp only in approved areas: Dispersed camping is allowed in Joshua Tree NP, but there are some areas that are off limits for conservation. Check before you go, but as of our trip, backpackers on the Boy Scout Trail were required to camp on the western side of the path.

Day One: Keys West Trailhead to Big Pine Trail via Indian Cove (16.5mi)

  • The trailhead near Keys West
  • A flat path across the Mojave with Joshua Trees in the background
  • A rocky approach to Willow Hole
  • Crossing a dry wash
  • Sandy riverbed near Willow Hole
  • Willow Hole
  • Beavertail cactus in bloom along the trail
  • A narrow canyon along the route
  • Sunset along the Big Pine extension

Sitting in the Keys West parking lot and arranging gear at 10:00am, the first thing we noticed was that it was already quite warm. By the time we finally ditched the car, lathered up with sunscreen, and hit the trail, the heat was even more intense. Despite planning a spring trip to Joshua Tree and being blessed with a cooler weekend, there was no escaping the Mojave sun. As a couple of Chicagoans on vacation however, we elected to embrace the warmth and spirits were high as desert sand replaced the parking lot beneath our feet.

Accustomed to steeper terrain, Emma and I felt as if we were flying over the gentle grades around Keys West. This, combined with fresh legs and a sense of wonder from walking amongst the Joshua Trees, yucca, and prickly pear propelled us to an early arrival at the Willow Hole junction. Impressed with how quickly we were covering ground, we disregarded our late start and decided to take the well-regarded detour towards Willow Hole. A hard right turn steered our course away from the endless flat path across the Mojave and toward the low ridges that dotted the horizon.

In no time, the trail brought us to a dried-up wash that steadily meandered its way through an opening in the rocky outcroppings. As the sand got finer beneath our feet, the ridges got higher on either side until we were surrounded by what would probably classify as a miniature mountain range. We’d later learn this area was called the “Wonderland of Rocks”. Just as we were discussing how it would be the perfect place to learn to boulder, a couple of dirty guys appeared with crash pads strapped to their backs and waved hello. About a half mile later, we came across a conspicuously green thicket of desert willows, indicating the trail’s terminus. Almost certain that the dense stand of trees was concealing an oasis, we charged ahead until we came out on the other side. Quiet and scenic, we chose this secluded spot to stop for a quick lunch break.

After lunch we did a little exploring, performing our best Bighorn Sheep impressions on the smooth rock. Once tired of climbing around, we retraced our steps all the way back to the junction. By this time, we were in the heat of the day and starting to sunburn despite the frequent re-application of sunscreen. As we walked, I realized my immense gratitude for both the flat terrain and my strategic decision a week prior to trade my man-bun in for a short fade. The flat path through the dispersed forest of Joshua Trees continued for a little over four miles, at which point, the outcroppings began to reappear.

Just like at Willow Hole, a wash emerged as we approached the rocks and gradually the outcroppings grew into mountains even larger than before. Soon we would find ourselves descending from the high plateau via a narrow canyon. The descent offered some impressive views of the distant Copper and Bullion mountains, and even more importantly it provided some occasional shade. After an hour of hiking and a few water breaks, we reached Indian Cove at the base of the mountain range. Here we were faced with a flat, barren valley dominated by dirt, prickly pear, and desert scrub. The remaining hike to the trailhead was unremarkable, especially since we knew we were turning right back around. Determined not to cheat the mileage however, we continued the whole way.

By the time we reached the trailhead, the sun was starting to get low. An anxious sense of urgency started to set in as we were still miles from where we intended to stop for the night. Quickly, we hopped back on the trail and into the mountains, following the Boy Scout all the way to its junction with the Big Pine Trail. At this point daylight was nearly gone, but the idea of covering some new ground beyond the Boy Scout was tempting. In the end, curiosity won the day and we took the detour, hiking another mile or so until it was too dark to continue. There was no shortage of flat, sandy ground, so after pitching the tent and devouring a dinner of packaged tuna, we settled into a comfortable sleep.

Day Two: Big Pine Trail to Keys West Trailhead (7.0mi)

  • Sunrise at the edge of the Big Pine Trail
  • The Mojave in the early morning light
  • Prominent Joshua trees
  • A view across the desert near Keys West
  • More desert landscapes
  • Looking towards the Little San Bernardino Mountains

At 2am, the jarring sound of a phone alarm signaled the beginning of our second day out on the Boy Scout Trail. Though we planned to get an early start, the purpose of the alarm was not to hike, but rather a reminder to check for stars. While alarms aren’t usually a necessity given the quality of sleep one gets on a thin camping mat, Joshua Tree was an International Dark Sky Park and after our experience in overnighting in Canyonlands we didn’t want to risk missing the display.

As the brain fog cleared and I was able to take stock of our surroundings, I was stunned. There were few stars, but the mountain range we were sleeping in was completely illuminated by an eerie glow. Without taking hardly any time for my eyes to adjust, I could see seemingly for miles from the threshold of my tent. Directly above, a new moon hung, casting a shadow-less radiance across the range. It felt as if I were looking through a telescope, the texture and impressions on the moon were clearly visible to the naked eye. Though it was far from what was expected, the alarm had proven to be well worth it, even if the concentrated moonlight made falling back asleep quite difficult.

Just a few hours after dozing off for the second time, we woke again. This time the sky was painted by a soft violet hue by the pre-dawn sun. Estimating that we were only a few tenths of a mile from the end of the Big Pine, we decided to hike the last bit without bringing packs or deconstructing camp. We figured the more arduous tasks could be saved until the sun was up and our blood was flowing. Sure enough, we reached the end of the trail within fifteen minutes. It was marked by a low, green pine that stood out against the brown and grey palettes of high desert rock. Just past the pine was a wide gulley that led to a view of the distant mountains and the valley of Twentynine Palms. At any other time of day, the vista would have resembled those we had seen the day prior. However, at the crack of dawn, it revealed a colorful sunrise that justified waking up for it. After enjoying the peaceful scene for a few minutes, we made our way back to camp, packed up our gear, and once again began following that narrow path across the wilderness.

Gradually, as if carried away by the cool morning breeze, our remaining mileage began to dwindle. Preoccupied by the sights and sound of a Mojave morning, we hardly spoke as made our way back towards the car. As advised, we kept a keen eye and ear out for the sign of a Bighorn Sheep or rare desert tortoise. We had been told they were most active during the mornings, but aside from the birds returning to the yucca and a lone black-tailed jackrabbit, the desert was still. No later than 24 hours after we had arrived the day prior, we found ourselves strolling back into the Keys West parking lot. After providing a quick trail report to those about to embark on their own adventure, we climbed back into the car and were off in search of a cold drink and much-needed shower.

Alternative Route

While we thoroughly enjoyed our experience on the Boy Scout Trail and were able to add in some variety with the Willow Hole and Big Pine extensions, I am a strong believer that loops or lollipop hikes are always preferable to an out-and-back. Unfortunately, it was not until after our adventure that I learned of an alternative route that can be created by stitching the Boy Scout Trail together with some of the other nearby trails.

If you only have one vehicle and want to avoid retracing your own steps, I would strongly consider testing out the following 14.2 mile route. It can be completed in either direction. The route does involve small sections of road walking and skips over the Indian Cove portion of the Boy Scout Trail, but in my opinion that was the least impressive section of our trek.

Sample itinerary:

  • Start: Keys West Parking Lot –> Big Pine Trail (still consider the Willow Hole extension)
  • Big Pine Trail –> Maze Loop Trailhead
  • Maze Loop Trailhead –> Bigfoot Trail
  • Bigfoot Trail –> Quail Springs Historical Trail
  • Quail Springs Historic Trail –> Quail Springs Recreation Area
  • End: Quail Springs Recreation –> Keys West Parking Lot (via road)

More details about the route can be found on its AllTrails page at this link.

Additional Sources

Standard Gear Packing List

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Standard Gear Packing List

How to Use This List

If you really want to get a backpacker talking, ask them about their pack and what is in it. Perhaps no topic is more controversial in backpacking sub-culture than what you should carry on your trip. Check out any public forum and you are sure to encounter hundreds of unique responses . In reality, there is only one right answer: it depends. Since you are on this page however, I will provide a little insight into what I usually take with me, in hopes that it helps make your own planning a little easier.

Please don’t take this list as law. Before you go on any trip, ask yourself a few critical questions:

  • Where are you going (woods, mountains, desert, beach, etc.)?
  • What temperatures are you expecting? What is the coldest it could possibly go? What is the warmest it could be?
  • What are the chances of rain / snow / lightning?
  • How long will you be gone?
  • Will you need to resupply food / water? If so, how do you plan to resupply?

Once you have answered these, think about what adjustments you might want to make from this list. If you still aren’t sure, check out one of my other posts in the Gear Guide section of my website for a little extra direction.

The Big Ticket Essentials

These are the large, must have items that will probably eat up around ~70% of the space in your pack and ~70% of the dollars that you have invested in your loadout. While it’s hard to leave any of these items behind, be sure that you have done your research and have items that are a good fit your trip.

  1. Backpack: You can’t go backpacking without a pack but having the right one for your needs can make a world of difference. Size, weight, and personal fit should all be considered. I currently use an 80L Kelty Coyote for large loads and long distances.
  2. Tent: Your home away from home when on the trail. Tents come in all different shapes, sizes, and colors, but in my experience almost any will do. One caveat is that not all tents are free standing, so if camping on surfaces where driving stakes in will be difficult, I would recommend one that is self-supporting. On solo adventures, I have been using the Flashlight 1 UL by Sierra Designs.
  3. Sleeping bag: Critical to ensuring you are warm and cozy at night, a sleeping bag should be brought on all but the warmest of trips. Most bags come with a temperature rating, so make sure the one you carry is cut out for the most extreme weather you could conceivably face. I have been using the Klymit 20F for warmer trips and the Marmot Trestles Elite Eco 0 for colder ones.
  4. Sleeping mat: The item you will spend the most time on outside of your boots, check out my breakdown to learn more about how to pick the perfect mat. Recently, I have been sleeping on the Therm-a-Rest NeoAir Xtherm.

Eating & Drinking

  1. Stove: Whether cooking an extravagant backcountry meal or just boiling water for morning coffee, an outdoor stove is a must for anywhere open fires are not allowed. And sadly, due to the severity of wildfires of late, that is most places. If carrying backpacking fuel, I bring along my miniature MSR PocketRocket. On international trips or those with lots of refueling, I opt for the trusty MSR Whisperlite Universal, which can process all types of fuel including “dirty gases.”
  2. Fuel / fuel canister: Most backpackers prefer the handy portable canisters optimized for popular stoves like the MSR or Jetboil models. If you need something with more versatile when there may not be an outdoor store on your route, you can buy a bottle designed for holding fuel.
  3. Matches / lighter: It’s difficult to use a stove or open fire without being able to light one, so unless you are a primitive survival expert, you’ll want to bring matches or a lighter. If going with matches, consider waterproof ones.
  4. Water treatment: It is never a good idea to drink water directly out of a source, no matter how pure it looks. In fact, many recommend using multiple methods of water treatment as different treatments are more effective at killing bacteria vs. viruses. I always carry a SteriPen in addition to a water filter.
  5. Pots / pans / mugs: Bring what you need and no more. Eating right out of the pot is a great way to save on space and weight in this department.
  6. Utensils: Every backpacker carries a good spork, potentially alongside other collapsible utensils.
  7. Water bottles: Staying hydrated should always be a priority on the trail, so always carry more water than you think you’ll need. If refill points are few and far between, look to additional containers like a HydraPak.

Other Must Haves

  1. Map & compass: Even if you have electronics to guide you, it’s always a good idea to have a map and compass just in case. Make sure you know how to use them (ever heard of declination?); if you don’t, REI and other outdoor shops often offer free classes.
  2. GPS / PLB: On short trips, a map and compass may suffice, but if you plan on stepping far away from civilization you need a GPS or PLB (personal locator beacon). These devices will not just help you find your way but can alert authorities if something goes on. Please do not just rely on your phone, I would recommend products from a trusted brand like Garmin.
  3. First aid kit: Always prepare for the worst and hope for the best. You can buy compact kits designed for hiking and backpacking at most outdoor stores.
  4. Headlamp: Backpacking overnight means finding your way in the dark. Hopefully you are all settled into camp before you take out your torch, but you will want to be prepared either way. I use a Black Diamond Spot, which allows me to power with standard AAA batteries or rechargeable ones.
  5. Multi-tool / knife: While you may be able to do without, you would be surprised how handy they can prove to be. I have used my Leatherman Squirt for everything from opening pesky food containers to fixing a broken stove and backpack.
  6. Toiletries: Bring what you need, but please be mindful of the environmental impacts. Nothing is worse than plopping down in a pristine campsite and then finding an exposed cache of toilet paper. If on longer trips where you will be doing your serious business outdoors, a trowel becomes a must have.
  7. Sunscreen and/or bug spray: Whether these are actually “must haves” depends on the locale, but if you need them you definitely won’t want to forget them. Pro tip, I find a bug net to be more comfortable than spray.

The Comfort Items (Non-Essentials)

  1. Hiking poles: Though poles are considered optional, I only leave them behind on the shortest of trips. They provide a lot of benefits in terms of stability on uneven surfaces, joint relief when moving downhill, and prevention against swelling in your hands. Savvy ultralighters often use them to replace tent stakes as well.
  2. Camp shoes: Nobody likes walking around in smelly boots all day, so lightweight shoes for walking around camp after-hours are can go a long way towards improving comfort levels. They also may offers some utility if there are any water crossings along your route. I love my Tevas, but Crocs are also popular, as are trusty pairs of cheap flip-flops.
  3. Inflatable pillow: Maybe the ultimate comfort item. Expendable on treks where space will be an issue, but key to a good night’s sleep on short trips. If I have room, I tend to bring along my Klymit Luxe pillow.
  4. Microfiber towel: While not technically a necessity, I rarely camp without a mini towel. A quick face wash or sponge bath at the end of the day makes sleeping much more comfortable. They dry almost instantly in direct sun and can also be used to wipe down dishes and other items.
  5. Body glide: My secret weapon in the constant battle against chafing, I never go more than a few miles without my Body Glide balm. They also make Foot Glide for protecting against blisters.
  6. Biodegradable soaps: Handy for cleaning dishes and yourself, soap is usually an optional but nice to have item on the trail. Please protect your environment though and select biodegradable, non-scented products.
  7. Solar charger: Nowadays, almost everyone hikes with some sort of electronics, whether it be a phone, camera, fitness monitor, or GPS. On longer journeys, these may require a solar charger from the likes of GoalZero or Anker to remain operational. Should you be reliant on a GPS for wayfinding, this may be a necessity.
  8. Solar lantern: As a total convenience, I often bring along my inflatable, solar powered Luci Mpowerd on short trips or group excursions. It is relatively compact, can hang from the top of a tent, and casts much broader light than a normal headlamp. It also allows you to look around at others without blinding them.

Clothing

  1. Hiking boots: The key to comfort on the trail is undoubtedly well-fitting boots (have you seen / read Wild?). I love my La Sportivas, but everyone’s feet are different so try before you buy and be sure to break them in before you embark on a long trek.
  2. 3x socks & underwear: Allow for an extra pair just in case “laundry” becomes a challenge. Wool socks are great as they minimize smell retention and prevent blistering. For underwear I prefer synthetic materials as they usually dry faster.
  3. 2x shirts: I tend to bring one short sleeve and one long sleeve. Dry-fit materials are my favorite, but I adjust based on the expected climate.
  4. 2x pants: Again, one short pair and one long. Zip offs are much loved by trekkers for a little extra versatility. If you are looking for a more premium pant, I love my Kuhl Radikls for flex comfort and my Fjallraven Vidda Pros for durability.
  5. Warm layer: Wool or down are generally considered the best materials here. Down is usually lighter and more compact, but it cannot get wet.
  6. Waterproof layer: Rain layers typically double as a wind layer and thus are a good idea regardless of whether precipitation is expected. If you are anticipating very wet conditions, you may also want to consider rain pants.

Feedback

What did I miss? What are other “must haves” or “comfort items” are in your pack? Do you have any tips or tricks to maximizing utility and minimizing space? Please let me know your thoughts in the comments below.

Disclaimer: I do not receive any compensation for recommending these products and all opinions / recommendations are solely based on my own experiences

What is R-value? And picking the perfect sleeping mat

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WHAT IS R-VALUE? And PICKing THE Perfect SLEEPING MAT

When I first started backpacking and was in the process of acquiring gear, only two things were on my mind: weight and cost. It was my goal then to start working towards some serious thru hikes and I knew that as the miles grew longer, every ounce in my pack would become more precious. I also knew the unfortunate truth that cost often begets quality when it comes to outdoor gear. Still, I was a student and working within a tight budget.

Fast forward one year, and there I was on the Drakensburg Grand Traverse in full fetal position, trying to get through a brutally cold night, wondering what it was that had gone wrong. I had been warned that temperatures may drop on the South African plateau, but I also believed I had come prepared. My sleeping bag was rated for cold temperatures and at its worst the cold snap never pushed temperatures below the low teens (about -12C).

For a few years I blamed my bag. It was real down and occasionally leaked feathers, so naturally I assumed it was partially defective. It wasn’t until my trusty sleeping mat sprung a leak and I was in the market for a new one that I realized I had the identified wrong culprit. In optimizing for lightweight and cheap I had selected a mat that provided almost no insulation and thus was causing me to lose valuable heat via contact with the cold ground.

All this goes to say, not all sleeping mats are the same, and picking the right one for your trip can mean the difference between a peaceful night outdoors and ascetic suffering. Below, I have done my best to share some valuable tips and tricks that may help you sort through the noise.

What is R-value?

One number that you are likely to see featured prominently on packaging or review sites for camping mats is ‘r-value‘. In short, r-value is a measure of “insulating power” that reflects an object’s ability to resist heat flow. This means that the higher an r-value is, the better a mat will be at keeping you warm.

How important is this you might ask? Well that depends on the conditions where you are camping, but if its chilly out, the answer is incredibly important. No matter how warm it is during the day, ground temperatures will always be lower than your body’s equilibrium temperature and thus draw heat from you. Also, since you are in direct contact with the ground, warmth will be lost much faster through conduction. Prolonged exposure to cold ground is actually much more dangerous than exposure to cold air.

Now as you may have surmised, your camping mat is not the only thing in your pack that provides critical insulation at night. Your sleeping bag, clothing, tarp and even tent can play a role. However, the following diagram can serve as a general guide to help you decide what type of sleeping mat will best suit your needs temperature-wise:

Note: The amount of insulation that one needs for comfort or survival will vary person to person, depending on a variety of factors such as age, sex, weight, metabolic rate, etc. If you “sleep cold”, you may want to err on the side of comfort and choose a mat with a higher r-value. Generally, men tend to sleep warmer (and thus require a lower r-value), while women usually sleep colder.

Other considerations

Material / typeThis is basically a choice between two styles of mat: foam vs. inflatable. A foam or “egg crate” mat is the original outdoor sleeping mat and many experienced hikers swear by their durability, versatility, and flash setup. Inflatable air mattresses, on the other hand, are a modern solution to reducing pack size and increasing comfort.
Size (unpacked) Some mats will come in different sizes (i.e., S / L / XL) that correspond to the length and width of the mat when unfolded / inflated. Prior to purchasing a mat, ensure that you have selected a size that will fit your own dimensions. If in search of supreme comfort, you may want to ensure you have budgeted a few extra inches to keep you from sliding off in the middle of the night.
Size (packed)Whether you subscribe to the principles of ultralight backpacking or are just looking for something to take on a weekend trip, smaller is always better. I tend to use a Nalgene water bottle as my gauge for a good compact size, while ultralight options may be ~50% smaller and extra-insulated expedition mats could be as much as 200% larger.
WeightAs with packed size, less is more when it comes to the weight of your outdoor gear. Mats are one of four large essentials items that most backpackers carry (along with their pack, tent, and bag) so it is great place to look to cut out some extra ounces. Most will be somewhere in the range of 8oz.- 2lbs.
ThicknessWhen it comes to mats, thickness is the closest proxy for comfort. In general, they may run as thin as ~0.5 inches or as thick as ~3 inches. If you are most concerned about a good night’s sleep, opt for more. However, it is worth noting textured mats with different air pockets may have thin spots that can prove uncomfortable if they hit in the wrong spots. Try before you buy.

Recommendations

Great for low cost: Klymit Static V (~$60)

My go-to option for years, the Klymit Static V is a dependable 3-season mat that, at ~$60, is a bargain in the world of outdoor gear. Packing down to about the size of a small water bottle and weighing in at no more than 1lb. 2oz., you can conveniently take it anywhere that it isn’t freezing (r-value: 1.3). The mat can be difficult to re-pack due to a compressed stuff sack and some newer models have a mouthpiece that is tedious, but as far as shortcomings go, the issues are small potatoes. While technically pricier than most foam mats, the extra padding offered as an inflatable makes the Static V a great entry-level mat for all but the most intrepid backpackers.

Great for ultralight: Therm-A-Rest NeoAir Uberlite (~$250)

As the featured ultralight line from a brand that specializes in sleeping gear, long-distance trekkers cognizant of base weight and pack size cannot go wrong with the Therm-a-Rest NeoAir UberLite. Despite weighing in at just 6 ounces and packing down to 6 x. 3.3in., the NeoAir UberLite has a generous thickness of 2.5in. and a suitable r-value of 2.3. Combine this with the quality of the brand and it’s lifetime warranty, and you have a premium sleeping mat ideal for those in search of a best-in class product for serious exploration.

Great for cold weather: Therm-a-Rest NEOAIR Xtherm (~$250)

The sister product of the UberLite, Therm-a-Rest’s NeoAir Xtherm is a similar camping mat intended for cold winter conditions. The primary difference between the two mats is that for the cost of few extra dollars and approximately 14 ounces of additional weight, the Xtherm offers a significantly higher r-value of 6.9. This is provided via a thin insulating layer that, much like a space blanket, blocks the transfer of body heat into the cold ground. For those who envision taking trips that involve camping in sub-freezing temperatures, the Xtherm is just one way to make your excursion a little more enjoyable.

Great for maximum comfort: Big Agnes Insulated Air Core (~$140)

When maximizing for comfort one should really be maximizing for thickness and there are few products on the market of reasonable weight, size, and cost that offer more thickness than the Big Agnes Insulated Air Core. The vertical “I-beam” design keeps one centered on the mat and helps ensure a good night’s sleep. Additionally, it comes with a handy inflation sack that makes the Big Agnes much easier to set up at night (especially given the extra air that is required). My only complaint is that it can be a little noisy as one shifts around on the mat. Though its size may not make the Air Core the best option for thru-hikes, it should be within the consideration set for light sleepers, short trips, and car camping.

Great for durability: Nemo Switchback (~$50)

As a leader in the foam mat space, Nemo’s Switchback is a reliable option for those seeking to optimize for durability and versatility in their mat. Though bulkier than inflatable options, foam pads can be strapped to the outside of backpacks without fear of damage, and thus may take up less valuable pack space than alternatives. The ability to fold the Switchback into an elevated seat, as well as its utility on rough, uneven surfaces make it a favorite of long-distance hikers and rugged expeditionists. Fair warning however, not all backpackers enjoy using foam and side-sleepers especially may prefer the extra thickness / clearance offered by inflatables. Generally all foam mats are can be considered similar, but as a reputable brand with slightly thicker foam than some leading competitors, I would recommend the Switchback.

Disclaimer: I do not receive any compensation for recommending these products and all opinions / recommendations are solely based on my own experiences

West Highland Way

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West Highland Way

Milngavie, Scotland

Length: 96mi (154km)
Days: 5-7 days
Difficulty: Easy (well maintained trails, facilities present along the way)
Gear: Standard gear
Completed: July 2019

In summary: Regarded as perhaps the best hike in the United Kingdom, the West Highland Way allows for a humble, yet immersive journey across a timeless landscape. Choose your adventure: take part in the rich culture of the trail and indulge yourself with cozy trailside pubs and lodges, or embrace the independent nature of your inner Highlander and revel in the solitude of wild camps. Whichever you prefer, the blue lochs, conic hills, and rural farms of the Scottish Highlands will transport you to another time, when kilted warriors by the name of MacGregor or MacDonald fought for control over this rugged, but beautiful terrain.

Preparation / Know Before You Go

Pick your pace. The West Highland Way is a great trek for both beginners looking to soak up some time on the trail, as well as ultralighters hoping to zoom on by. The route is divided into 8 sections that can be conquered in any number of ways. The West Highland Way Trail Association has some suggested itineraries that I would recommend for your planning purposes. For the record, we opted for a slightly modified version of ‘WHW3’.

Bring bug spray and a head net. This is the golden rule for comfort along the WHW. Especially near the lochs and wetter sections of the trail, evening swarms of biting flies called ‘midges’ made setting up camp unbearable. These critters come out in the thousands and can fit through mesh head nets if standing still, so bring spray and work fast!

Bring a raincoat and duck’s back. Fog and rain are WHW staples and we certainly encountered this predictably unpredictable weather over the course of our journey. So bring proper rain gear, and be sure to store it top of pack!

Book lodging in advance. By no means do you need a hotel during this journey, but if your heart longs for a stay in a quaint B&B on the Scottish countryside, then get a reservation. Around 30,000 people will complete the full route every year, so you can imagine that all the boutique trekker’s hotels sell out quickly.

Buy a trail map. They can be purchased in most of the small outdoors or trinket shops in Milngavie. They make for great souvenirs and will point out side-attractions / points of interest that a GPS or phone map may not.

Day One: Milngavie to Drymen (11.8mi)

I cannot think of a more auspicious way to start a long hike than beginning in the town of Milngavie, Scotland. After disembarking our morning train from Glasgow, we instantly fell in love with the village that seemed to have sprung up around the trailhead. The town was cute and everybody around us wore a broad smile, offering up words of encouragement as our loaded backpacks gave clear indication of our intentions. We had made it no further than 30 yards down the red brick road when an elderly gentleman stopped us and demanded to take our photo underneath the ‘famous obelisk’, marking the origin of West Highland Way. After a quick pastry stop at a local bakery that was just too tempting, Annelise and I commenced our journey.

The first day on the Highland Way is a rather plain, but enjoyable necessity. Though on the fringe of the rugged highland wilderness, Milngavie is still connected to Glasgow metro, and as expected we had to work our way out of the inhabited areas. The day was perfect however, and with the sun shining bright even the journey across the transect was energizing. As the day drew on, sheep farms slowly replaced suburban homes, and soon we found ourselves out in the plains. What struck us immediately was the vibrant green hues of the local grasses. It felt as if we were viewing the world through a filter.

Around 4pm we stopped for a relaxing break along a scenic trailside river. The afternoon had proven to be rather hot, so a quick dip in the cool waters did us wonders. Fully refreshed, we tackled the final few miles in a single push. At Drymen, we ran across a backpackers campsite where, for a few pounds, we could enjoy a flat backyard spot with a shower, clean bathroom, and good company. We accepted the offer and spent an unusual night under the sun. Given our northerly position and proximity to the solstice, the sun would not set until 10pm., and then it would reappear promptly at 4am. This definitely took some getting used to.

  • The plains of Dumgoyne, just beyond the Glengoyne Distillery and eclectic Beech Tree Inn
  • Entering the rural highlands
  • Our riverside resting spot
  • A lonely farmhouse near Drymen
  • The last mile into our first night’s camp

Day Two: Drymen to Rowardennen (14.9mi)

We were fortunate to begin our second day on the trail much like we did the first, in gorgeous morning sun. Though that sun rose before it was welcomed, the warmth we felt at 7am made packing up early much more achievable than on prior trips. The hiking picked up right where we had left off the evening prior, making our way across rural sheep farms. What was interesting to us was that in order to traverse each farm, we would have to pass through a series of private iron gates to ensure no animals broke free of their expansive pens. It was a unique set up, but it was inspiring to see such a healthy partnership between the trail association, hikers, and local farmers.

A few hours into the morning we passed through the final rusty gate, and found ourselves staring down a scenic expanse of low grassy hills. It appeared we were moving further from civilization and closer to the heart of the highlands. After steadily moving over and around the series of hills, we reached a viewpoint from which we could see the shining blue waters of Loch Lomond below. Energized, we made for the shores, which we reached in about 45min.

Where the trail met the loch, we ran into a small town called Balmaha, that was evidently a popular jumping off point for tourists moving deeper into the Trossachs National Park. We stopped for a moment to watch dinghies, ducklings, and kayaks move lazily in and out of the town’s tiny bay before continuing the WHW along the Loch’s shore. The rest of the day was quite crowded, but enjoyable all the same. We never strayed far from the shore over the final 6-7 miles and the views were great. It was tempting to join the vacationers, soaking up the afternoon sun on pebbled beaches, but we were on a mission. Eventually we reached Rowardennen, where we camped in a shaded site not far from a backpacker’s youth hostel. A consuming swarm of biting midges put the only damper on the day as it limited bathing / cooking options, but before long we were comfy and cozy within the safety of our tent.

  • A grassy knoll not far from Drymen
  • A fern covered field providing plenty of food for grazing sheep
  • Rolling green hills and a clear walking path
  • A small natural creek, irrigating the green fields nearby
  • Loch Lomond from above
  • A scenic sheep farm on the way to Balmaha
  • The shores of Loch Lomond

Day Three: Rowardennen to Inverarnan (14.0mi)

The third day on the trail was a tale of two halves, though unfortunately our slow start in the morning meant that we would complete a majority of our hiking during the less pleasant second half. We woke late to the sun shining off the calm surface of Loch Lomond, and then packed up quickly to minimize bites from the ever-present midges. The hiking for the day was straightforward, a direct path along the shore of the 24 mile long loch.

Probably around noon, a thick fog started to roll in over the surrounding hills, providing an ominous setting to go along with the eerie silence of the great loch. We had the trail to ourselves, but the atmosphere inexplicably compelled Annelise and I to speak in hushed tones so as not to disturb the fragile peace. A few hours in, we came across a set of landmarks that added some intrigue to the days walking. The first was a batch of moss covered stone ruins that we later learned were likely the remnants of a illicit 18th century whisky distillery. The second was a sign indicating the presence of Scottish outlaw Rob Roy MacGregor’s cave. As alleged descendants of the MacGregor clan and Rob Roy himself, we looked hard for the cave, but were not able to spot it via the short side hike. Still, coming to wander the lands of our ancestors and getting to sit steps from where Rob Roy hid out from the Duke of Montrose was a meaningful and unforgettable experience.

The latter portion of the day was a little bit of a blur as the fog turned into a downpour and sullied the mood. Despite an attempt to wait out the storm in a cozy backpackers room at the Inversnaid Inn, we ran out of time and were forced to continue with our rain jackets and duck’s backs drawn tight. The dark clouds and distorted sunlight made for some great photographs and the rain helped us comprehend the region’s vibrant green character, but otherwise we moved as quickly as possible. By mid-evening we reached the northern terminus of the Lomond, paused for a minute to take the view in, and continued to Inverarnan. There we were pleased to find a local pub and large campground, near full up. We paid a small rental fee for one of the last spots, grabbed a drink, then enjoyed a good night’s sleep.

  • The lakeside trail
  • The Wee Bruach Caoruinn farmstead and distillery ruins
  • Another section of the Wee Bruach Caoruinn ruins
  • The clouds over Loch Lomond from the Inversnaid Inn
  • The sign indicating the footpath towards Rob Roy’s Cave
  • The alleged location of Rob Roy’s Cave
  • Further along the West Highland Way
  • The north end of Loch Lomond

Day Four: Inverarnan to Tyndrum (12.0mi)

Once again, we were slow to leave camp in the morning. The exposure to the elements from the day prior had left us tired, and the general lack of a proper night made it difficult to wake at a true dawn. Unfortunately, if was clear from when we did wake up that we had another wet day ahead off us. Nonetheless, having left Loch Lomond, we were in for a change of scenery and that made the walking quite enjoyable.

We began the day following the River Falloch, which was among largest of Lomond’s countless tributaries. This path led us north and further into the green moors so well associated with Scotland’s highlands. Every once in a while we would pass a small village or lone farmhouse, and many times the trail would take us right through some accommodating local’s property. Occasionally our paths would cross that of sheep, horses, and best of all burnt orange Highland cows with their U-shaped horns and comical bangs. Sadly, none of the cows were very photogenic.

Ancient history lessons were a notable feature of the day as well. Nearing a spot on our map marked as the ‘Kirkton Farmhouse,’ we came across a sign alerting us to a medieval cemetery nearby. As my sister walked ahead, I poked around, astonished to find that some of the burial stones dated back to the 7th and 8th centuries. The cemetery would not be our only discovery of the day however. Nearing our destination of Tyndrum, we crossed through a park known to be a battleground in which Robert the Bruce (King of Scots), narrowly escaped death at the hands of the famed MacGregor clan. In that park we came upon a lochan (pond) where legend has it, the future king threw his heavy sword in order to flee the scene faster. Many have tried searching lochan, but still none have located the lost sword.

After a full and wet day of walking, we reached the small roadside town of Tyndrum. Thoroughly soaked and quite cold, we decided it would be the perfect place to splurge on a hotel room and recuperate before our longest day on the trail. We made do with the last room available at the quaint Tyndrum Inn and relished the luxury of a warm bed.

  • A lone farmhouse along the trail
  • A curious horse we encountered passing through private property
  • The Kirkton cemetery
  • A small underpass below the railroad tracks
  • The scenic Scottish railway
  • A much needed break in the clouds

Day Five: Tyndrum to Kingshouse (19.0mi)

Waking up on a mattress after a few long days of hiking can work wonders for morale, and after a classic Scottish breakfast of porridge, toast and black pudding (personally not a fan) in the adjacent pub, we were ready to conquer the long day ahead. After leaving Tyndrum, we quickly found ourselves back in the open countryside. The small rolling hills we had grown accustomed to were also steadily getting larger and steeper. Some had reached grades at which the all encompassing green grass could no longer grow on the slopes, and I would have ventured to classify them as mountains or ‘beinns’ in Gaelic. The fact that we had left earlier than other days also meant that the day’s walking would be a more social experience. Trekkers always tend to be a morning crowd, so we ran into a few small groups on the trail, chatted them up, and asked for photos when we could.

Around noon or so, we reached tiny riverside town Bridge of Orchy. Clouds had been threatening us with rain all morning, but since they had so far held up we decided to push onwards and defer our break until we reached Inveroran about two miles further. Fortunately, our gamble paid off and we reached the classic Inveroran hotel just as the rain finally broke through. We spent a long afternoon break in the inn’s rustic pub. I enjoyed some pints and talked another WHW couple while Annelise, who was feeling a little under the weather, slept in the booth. Once sufficiently warm, we strapped up and continued along the way.

The latter portion of the day was long and lonely, but fortunately very flat. Though still early afternoon, clouds had blanketed the sky and I believe convinced many of our fellow hikers to hunker down at the trailside inns. Remarkably, as Annelise and I traversed the Highlands for another 10 miles or so, we were spared any serious rain until the last half mile. The air was misty and the ground wet, but it was more than we could ask for. Until we made made camp mid-evening, we enjoyed fast-paced walking, beautiful scenery, and complete solitude. Nothing moved on the moorland aside from tall grass blowing in the wind.

  • A river crossing near the aptly named Bridge of Orchy
  • Encounters with other hikers are always a photo opportunity
  • The expansive highlands south of Inveroran
  • A small forest tucked in amongst the hills
  • The open highlands
  • The long road towards Kingshouse
  • Our campsite at Kingshouse

Day Six: Kingshouse to Kinlochleven (9.0mi)

Though slated to be our shortest day on the West Highland Way, we were under no impression that Day 6 would be our easiest. As we sat in our tent and examined the map, the words ‘Devil’s Staircase’ jumped off the page, surely indicative of a formidable climb. Nevertheless, we emerged to a beautiful campsite (perhaps my favorite of the trip), packed up our things, and seized the day.

The morning’s hiking began in the shadow of the prominent Buachaille Mor (or ‘Stob Dierg’), a mountain that when viewed from the east resembled a perfect pyramid, with its bare rock peak protruding from the green valley floor. As we made our way through the valley and around the mountain, the view slowly changed and passable climbing routes emerged on the back side. Before long, we arrived at the Altnafeadh car park, where we joined a set of enterprising day hikers who had journeyed across the highlands with the sole purpose of conquering ‘The Devil’s Staircase’. As expected, the journey to the top of the staircase was arduous. The path consisted of a long set of switchbacks that were deceptively steep. The only thing the climb had going for it was that the zenith was clear and no false peaks stood in the way of our eventual success. After a 45 minutes or so of hard work, we reached the top of the staircase and stopped for lunch in a windy spot with panoramic views of the surrounding moors and mountains.

After eating, we descended the saddle of the mountain on the following side and made our way downhill towards Kinlochleven. Immediately after crossing over the Devil’s Staircase, we could see our environment starting to change. Large conic peaks still dominated the horizon, but the bare green moors we had grown accustomed to were soon substituted for equally green forests that thickened as we approached the valley town. Making quick work of the favorable decline, we arrived just before dinner. It was the perfect place for us to spend our penultimate evening on the trail. The old mining town appeared to be right out of a postcard. Antique smelting furnaces juxtaposed against bright colored row houses with well-manicured lawns and garden gnome collections. Eventually we located our campsite, a riverside inn with an attached pub, just steps away from where the trail resumed once more.

  • Buachaille Etive Mor (‘Stob Dearg’) as viewed from camp
  • A closer look at the pyramidal Buachaille from across the moor
  • The oft-photographed Lagangarbh cottage, alone in the valley
  • Smiling through the pain halfway up ‘The Devil’s Staircase’
  • Atop ‘The Devil’s Staircase’ saddle
  • Beyond the saddle, headed towards Kinlochleven
  • The River Leven valley
  • The view from The MacDonald campground on the shores of Loch Leven

Day Seven: Kinlochleven to Fort William (14.9mi)

On the morning of Day 7, an unusually high amount of condensation and relative lack of daylight signalled to us from inside the tent that that some adverse weather had overtaken our beautiful little valley overnight. We were relieved to emerge and find that it was just an episode of particularly thick, oppressive fog. Still, as is the norm on the last day of a long journey, we ate breakfast quickly and were roaring to go. The density of the fog was such that water accumulated on our clothes just moving around outside, but beyond the five extra minutes we spent waterproofing our supplies, it did nothing to slow us down.

Our 15mi. push for the day began as we reluctantly trudged up the nearby hillside and out of the secluded Kinlochleven valley. Before long however, the road leveled and we were in the base of a new alpine valley, following a channel that had been carved by millennia of runoff. Over the course of the day, we would alternate between untamed moorland and rural pasture, every once in a while passing near a ruined homestead. The solemn tone set by the fog added to the imagery, and gave the impression of travelling through time over an ancient land once traversed by my ancestors. This feeling was only amplified as the day went on and we approached the open green hills that had served as the natural set for Mel Gibson’s Braveheart.

Around early afternoon, the fog finally abated enough to reveal two great sights. One being the nearby peak of the formidable Ben Nevis mountain, the tallest in the United Kingdom. The other being the outskirts of Fort William in the valley below. After a quick side trek out the the ruins of an iron age fort called Dun Deardail (would not recommend as little could be seen of the yet un-excavated fort) , we caught our second wind and pushed on at an anxious pace. Before long, we had fully descended from the mountains and found ourselves road walking through the charming maritime town. A mile or so later we passed mile marker 96, entered the iconic Gordon Square, and then snapped a few photos before plopping down on the commemorative hiker’s bench nearby. It was the perfect end to an imperfect, yet unforgettable highland adventure. A glass scotch from a local distillery over dinner would then round out our authentic Scottish journey across the famed West Highland Way.

  • Kinlochleven shrouded in morning fog
  • Ruins of an old Scottish homestead
  • The outskirts of Fort William from the mountain
  • Ben Nevis, the peak of course disappeared for our photograph
  • The WHW walker’s statue at the end of the trail
  • Commemorative WHW trailhead marker

Additional Sources