As we’ve settled in to summer’s steady drumbeat of 90/90 — temperature/humidity — days, I’ve been trying to sort out what I don’t like about summer hiking, as well as what keeps me on the trail. The latter first.

The case for summer

• No crowds. Summer hiking is an acquired taste, a taste even some of the most ardent hikers haven’t acquired. But here’s the thing: if you’re not into sharing the trail, it’s the best time to be on it.
• The intimacy. Come summer, every nook of the forest is adorned in green: a rich canopy, a robust understory, a thickly carpeted forest floor. All help insulate you from the world beyond, and when it comes down to it, isn’t being shielded from the outside world a big part of why you like the outdoor world?
• Hot bod, I. As you age and your body stiffens, nothing works out the kinks like the heat. On a 90-degree day those stiff joints all-but-disappear within minutes of hitting the trail. Think of it as the benefit of a steam bath while enjoying a walk in the woods.
• Hot bod, II. Hiking is a good way to firm up and lose weight. Hiking in hot weather accelerates the process.
• It makes you a kid again. For most of us as kids, summer was our favorite time of year. No school, all play, all day. Recapture that feeling with a summer hike. And maybe to capture that feeling of summer youth throw a little water into the mix. One of the best days I’ve had on the trail was nearing the end of a 14-mile loop at Doughton Park and pausing to remove my hiking shoes and dip my feet in the cold water of Basin Creek. Had there been a pool deep enough I would have been all in. 

Pretty good case for a summer hike, I believe. Now, on to the downside and how I deal with it.

The downside (and dealing with it)

• Sweaty eyes. There’s an easy solution to keeping salty sweat from dripping into your eyes, obscuring your vision, and making you crabby: a bandana, or Buff. You could use a ball cap, relying on on the headband to absorb your salty discharge, but the closed top causes heat build up. Solution? A wrap-around cloth that lets heat evaporate but catches sweat. When it reaches maximum capacity simply remove, wring, replace.
• Dehydration. You need to replace all that sweat leaving your body, lest you succumb to a summer swoon. Take a minimum of two liters of water, regardless of how long and far you plan to hike. Of course, simply having water doesn’t mean you’ll drink it. Which leads to …
• Make it a cold one. One of my favorite songs as a kid growing up out West: “Cool Water,” the Marty Robbins version. Clear, cool water to be precise. Which is why every night before a summer hike I stick a couple of three-quarter-full water bottles in the freezer. Next morning I top them off with cold water and I generally have clear, cool water for most of the hike — water I look forward to indulging. 
• Pack extra socks. Always pack an extra pair of socks and swap ‘em out before you hear the tell-tale squish-squish-squish of your feet swimming in your socks. When that happens, take the socks you’ve just removed and tie ‘em to the back of your pack. Within a half hour or so a pair of wool socks will dry just enough for you to put back on, should the need arise. (Help yourself even more by wearing lightweight summer hiking socks.)
• Vanquish the pests. I use DEET, deemed safe in concentrations of less than 30 percent, to rid myself of most summer pests. Most, but not all. …

Quick story: Years ago I was complaining to a former superintendent at Umstead State Park in Raleigh about her horse flies. “I’m on my mountain bike,” I explain, “trying to outride this especially pesky horsefly. I’m peddling like mad, but it keeps nipping at my ears. I look down at my speedometer and I’m going 35 miles per hour!” 

“The park speed limit is 20,” she replied. 

In fact, it wasn’t until recently that learned of the one thing that does seem to keep horse flies at bay.

Vinegar

Vinegar.

Like, a dab behind the ears?

Exactly. Although if the thought of smelling like a tossed salad on the trail doesn’t appeal to you, any essential oil — citronella, eucalyptus, lavender, peppermint — will do. A spritz or two about the head and summer hiking’s real nemesis will be someone else’s problem.

So, in addition to your Ten Essentials, add an 11th.

A spritz of white vinegar.

The post Embrace the Summer Hike: Here’s How (and Why) appeared first on GetGoing NC!.

Oh yeah — a hike!

Technically, I’d taken one earlier in the day, but it was more a traditional get-your-miles-in-and-heart-rate-up hike. What I hadn’t done was a true adventure hike, the kind I had vowed to do more of in 2026: An off-trail hike.

In year’s past, all my hiking resolutions had been blazed-trail centric. Hike a new (blazed) trail every month. Do at least one 10-mile (blazed) trail hike every quarter. Do a new stretch of the (very obviously blazed) Appalachian Trail. 2026 would be the year I eschew the blaze.

I checked to see how much time I had: sunset was at 5:14 p.m.; it was a 10-minute drive to my local off-trail stomping grounds, the Dan River Game Lands, and if I left now I’d have just about an hour of sunlight to work with. On a regular trail, a blazed trail, that would translate to about 3 miles of hiking, and if I overshot sunset by 10 or 15 minutes, no big deal. Not so when you’re exploring off-trail. In fact, depending upon your location you could be hiking in the dark well before sunset. That gave me pause, reminding me that especially when heading off trail it’s wise to think before you leap. A few thoughts on thinking, based on my New Year’s Day hike:

Thought 1: Late in the day? Choose a west-facing location. This thought in mind, I entered from the Riverside Drive access, which sits on a plateau sloping west down to the Dan River..

Thought 1a: Late in the day? Choose a mature hardwood forest. Why? Because such a forest is likely to have minimal canopy in winter and thus, let more light in. That proved a bit of a challenge on this 1,700-acre game land, which was farmed as recently as 20 year ago and consists largely of young, pines and hardwoods elbowing branch-to-branch for precious sunlight. 

I set off down a dirt road closed to the public and used only occasionally by the Wildlife Resources Commission for maintenance. I hiked a third of a mile down a gentle slope, then the road dropped nearly 100 vertical feet in a third of a mile. The road fizzled into brush; it was time to head truly off trail. 

Thought 2: Be cognizant of the time. It was about 4:25 p.m.; sunlight wasn’t an immediate factor, but it time was important to factor it into my decision. To the north, the forest floor was relatively clear of growth. The slope was also catching the waning sunlight and it was in the direction I needed to head; I struck off not straight uphill, but making sure I didn’t lose elevation; in the next 15 minutes or so I needed to regain the ridge.

Thought 3: Have a plan. Probably should have started with this, but it was now that I needed to take the goal of my hike into account. Granted, my overall goal was to make it back to the car before dark. But what I really wanted was to catch the end-of-day light while hiking through an upland meadow nearby. I would be heading west, directly into the fading sunlight; with clear skies the sunset should be spectacular. My plan to regain the ridge would get me within 5 minutes of the meadow.

Thought 4: Brambles and briars slow a body down, especially in the dark. My chosen path had looked clear, but in fact was laced with barely visible waist-high brambles and briars. Much easier to see and deal with in the light.

Thought 5: Rootball holes and other obstacles. The winter woods are covered with fall’s leaf and pine straw harvest, which does a fine job of masking obstacles such as rootball holes, downed branches and rocks. Again, much easier to deal with in daylight.

Thought 6: Have intermediary goals. My goal was the meadow and it was almost due west. Because I couldn’t see it, though, and because I didn’t want to be constantly consulting my compass, I picked intermediary landmarks to the west that I could see. I’d reach the landmark, then find another on a westerly course. Slow, but steady and reliable.

Thought 7: The path of least resistance. I reached the ridge, which housed a power line cut-through, at about 5 p.m. A strip of woods maybe 50 yards wide separated my from the meadow. Having hiked here before I knew that if I hiked southwest another 5 minutes I would find an opening, a much better option in the fading light than bashing through dense woods. 

Thought 8: Don’t get cocky. I entered the meadow at 5:07 p.m., 7 minutes before sunset. The setting sun was indeed what I’d hoped; my inclination was to stop and savor. And while the last two-tenths of a mile back to the car was relatively easy, it was still off-trail through a meadow. I needed every ounce of sunlight I could get.

Thought 9: Don’t cut it too close. I got back to the car at 5:13 p.m. There was maybe another 5 minutes of useable light in the meadow; the useable light in even the most open forest had been exhausted a good 20 minutes earlier. Not bad timing, I thought.

Thought 10: Stay a moment and savor the waning light. Probably doesn’t need saying, but why not!

A great start for 2026, and hopefully an omen for a year of memorable off-trail adventure ahead.

The post 10 Thoughts for a late-day off-trail adventure appeared first on GetGoing NC!.

You love your trails. You can’t imagine life without them. But let’s try.
For starters, life might be a little more adventurous.
Don’t get me wrong. I love my trails. The Sycamore Trail at Umstead (especially during a rain, when its namesake creek is roiling). The trail network at Horton Grove Nature Preserve, which seems perpetually bathed in ethereal light. The 14-mile stretch of the Appalachian Trail north of Carvers Gap, which is one stunning 360-degree view after another.
But sometimes, the terrain beyond the confines of the well-maintained, blazed path beckons. The hollow where the distant sound of crashing water suggests a cataract. The remote rocky summit promising great views. The deep woods that call for no apparent reason other than you’ve never paid a visit.
The lure of the unknown.
Trails exist for good reason. To keep you from getting lost tops the list. They also help minimize our impact as visitors, keeping us from trampling sensitive ecosystems and basically letting the land, for the most part, be. Yet every once in a while … .
Ten years ago, we lead a wilderness wander at one of our favorite haunts. We feel comfortable making an occasional trail departure, in large part because we follow a few simple rules that all but assure we will make our way back to civilization. The best testament to these rules: we’re here to talk about them (rather than still in the woods, wandering, looking for the way out).
Before we share those rules, exploring off trail is something you should ease into. It’s best to head out your first few times with someone experienced, someone who knows the terrain and is comfortable without the manmade cues — cleared trail, blazes, directional markers — that guide many of us through the woods. Now, some tips for off-trail exploring on your own.

Before heading out

• Take a map. This is mandatory every time you strap on a pack, even if you’re hiking a trail you know well. (What if there’s a blowdown or a landslide and you need to take evasive action?) A good topo map is preferred; a park-issued map, which often lacks topo lines and isn’t to scale is better than nothing.
• Take a compass. A map is of minimal help if you don’t know which way is up. Or north. Together, a map and compass are invaluable hiking companions.
• Check sunset. Venturing off trail isn’t something you want to do if you’re running out of daylight. An especially important step this time of year.

On the trail

Know your blazes. Likely, you’ll start out on an established trail. Familiarize yourself with the blaze for that trail and for adjoining trails. Odds are you’ll eventually want to return to the trail you departed from.
Landmarks. When you reach the point where you plan to head off trail take careful note of what’s around you: an especially identifiable tree, a creek, a rock outcrop, whatever. Sighting a familiar object could be key for your return.

Leaving the trail

• Take a bearing on where you’re headed. Get out your map, get out your compass. Get your orientation (where’s north?) set. Pick an object in the distance, in the direction you want to explore. Take a compass reading, follow that compass reading.
• Confirm your bearing. Stop periodically, every 30 yards or so, to confirm your bearing. Are you still headed in the direction you set off in? If not, correct and continue.
• Landmarks. Again, keep an eye out for familiar landmarks that can help you navigate upon your return.

Objective reached! Now what?

• Reverse course. Once you reach what it was you wanted to check out, return to the point where you left the trail by simply following your compass in the opposite direction. For instance, if you reached your objective by heading due north, return by heading due south.
• Shinny thing. Or maybe you see something else in the distance you want to investigate. Take specific note of where you are, get out your map, get your compass and set a new bearing to your new objective. Continue in the manner described above, stopping every 30 yards or so to make sure you remain on course.
• Reverse course (again). To return after reaching your second objective, simply head in the opposite compass direction you followed to your second objective until you get back to your first objective. From there, continue in the direction opposite you used when you left the trail.

Oops! Get off course?

A few tips for finding your way back to civilization:

• First, don’t panic. If you’re in a state park, for instance, you’re dealing with a limited amount of space. The largest state park in North Carolina (South Mountains) is just 18,400 acres; by comparison, Umstead in Raleigh is about 5,600 acres, Crowders Mountain east of Charlotte is 5,100 acres and Hanging Rock is less than 7,900 acres. You won’t be lost for long.
• Scout for an irregularity in the terrain. Most trails are distinguishable as a consistent disruption in the distance, appearing as a flowing, though sometimes barely discernible, line.
  * Look for running water. Find a stream? Follow it downhill; that’s generally where you’re more likely to encounter civilization.
• Look for an old roadbed. Much of our public land — state parks, national forests, etc. — was once farmed or forested. Old roadbeds weave throughout much of this land. Some of these old roadbeds appear on maps. If you can find an old roadbed — typically marked by parallel dashed lines — it may give you a sense of how to regain the trail (it may actually be, or become at some point, a trail).
• Still flummoxed? If you feel you are hopelessly lost and perhaps in danger, call the land manager for where you are hiking: the map you have should have a contact number. I’ve heard more than one tale of confused paddlers lost amid the bald cypress and water tupelo on Merchants Millpond who called the park office and were guided in over the phone.
• Last resort. If you can’t raise anyone in the park office, as a last resort, call 911. They can get ahold of park/forest officials after hours and, best case, guide you in over the phone, worst case send a team out after you.

Last tip? Avoid the “worst case” scenario.

The post A tip or two before you venture off (trail) appeared first on GetGoing NC!.

Today, we address the practical, offering eight tips to help you deal with winter’s unique challenges. Who knows, they might just change your thoughts about hanging up the hiking boots ’til March.

• Know your pace. Do you know how fast you hike? Do you have any idea? Knowing how fast you hike can be valuable information in any number of situations. For example, it’s late afternoon, you want to take a 5-mile hike. The sun sets in 2 hours and you’re not a fan of hiking in the dark. Do you have time for the hike? If you don’t know your pace, it’s pretty easy to figure out. Go to a trail with a known distance. Set your watch, hike. When you get back, take the time it took you to hike (using total minutes is probably easiest) and divide it by the mileage. So if it took you an hour (60 minutes) to hike three miles, divide 60 by 3 and there’s your pace: 20 minutes per mile (not a bad pace, fyi). Keep in mind that your pace will vary based on various factors, including the type of terrain you’re hiking (mountains will be slower) and how much weight you’re packing. Knowing your pace can keep you from getting caught by surprise in the dark, especially important when the temperature can drop a good 10 degrees within minutes of sunset.
• Speaking of sunset … . Knowing when the sun sets is especially important on a winter hike (for reasons noted above). Before heading out, check sunset (and sunrise) times at sunrise-sunset.org.
• Dress appropriately. A lot of folks hang up their hiking boots come winter because they simply don’t know how to dress. When it comes to exercising in winter your comfort comes down to two things: 1) avoid cotton clothes: cotton gets wet, it stays wet, you get cold, and; 2) wear layers. Wear a lightweight wool or synthetic layer next to your skin, cover it with a slightly heavier wool/synthetic layer. If it gets colder, you may need to add a third layer, a shell, perhaps. Wool hats and gloves help you regulate your body temperature: Too hot? Off they go. Too cold? Put ‘em back on. Wear a thicker sock in winter. The basics of layering are just that that. To get a better grip on the subject, check out this piece we wrote for our friends at Great Outdoor Provision Co.
• Snacks. Your body burns more calories in winter in an effort to keep the body warm — this is true even if you’re an expert at layering. High calorie snacks — a few mini-Snickers tucked into your hip-belt pocket, say — will keep you moving and keep you warm. Give yourself permission to eat on the trail, even if it’s a relatively short hike.
• Hydration. Even though you aren’t sweating as much in cold weather, you’re still sweating and you need to replace that sweat. According to an article in Runner’s World by William O. Roberts, MD, “Fluid replacement is easily accomplished in the cold by drinking to thirst … then resuming your usual post-activity fluid intake.” So, when you get thirsty, drink.
• Know your route. You should always take a map when you hike, but you should also go over the map beforehand and get a feel for a few things, including: 1) Topography. If the topo lines are close together and the trail is squiggly, be advised that this 6-mile hike may take you longer than it does to hike 6 miles on the local greenway; 2) Look for stream crossings (the wiggly blue lines) that cross your trail. Maybe they have bridges, maybe they don’t. If you’re hiking in the shadow of a big rainstorm, keep in mind that those streams might be difficult to cross, that you might want to bring an extra pair of socks and use trekking poles, at the least; 3) Bailout routes and nearby roads. A few years ago we had a hiker who needed evacuating from one of the worst spots imaginable, Linville Gorge. Fortunately, we were near one of the few spots that I knew was close to a road, and we were able to get her out with little trouble.
• Use trekking poles. I’m an advocate of trekking poles year round, but especially in winter. They make those dicey stream crossings easier by helping your balance, they help you better navigate icy patches, and because they engage your core and arms, they help keep your upper body toasty, too.
• Don’t hike alone. Yes, I confess: I hike alone year-round. But in winter, when I go solo I try to hike trails that see some traffic. You sprain an ankle — or worse — and can’t move, you could be in for a long, cold, dangerous night if no one happens along. For this reason, too, be sure to tell someone where you’ll be hiking and when you expect to be back.

Embrace the winter hike. Prepare for it and you’ll be amply rewarded.

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Normally, we celebrate this occurrence with getting to sleep an extra hour. But it’s true import? Instead of the sun rising at 7:42 a.m., it will be up at 6:42 a.m. Meaning … ? 

Meaning that if you’re a clock-puncher, you’ll now have time to get in a little quality trail time before work! 

Why hike first thing? 

In addition to the obvious “Why not?”, here’s why:

• You get to see sunrise. It’s like sunset, only in reverse.
• You get to hear the day come to life. Even on a cold morning, there’s a good deal of woodland chatter as the natural world wakes up.
• Start cool, end less cool. There’s something about knowing you’ll likely get warmer as the hike progresses that makes heading out at dawn less daunting.
• It gets your motor revved for the day. You know how some mornings it can be 10:30, 11 by the time you’re fully engaged? A brisk hike in brisk weather will get your juices flowing pronto (and you can tell your boss that!).
• It sets an upbeat tone for your day. 

Tips for an early hike

A few quick things to keep in mind on an early hike.

• Check not only sunrise, but also the start of twilight. As we mentioned earlier, sunrise today was at 7:03 p.m., but twilight — first light — began at 6:36 a.m. Use sunrise as your ultimate guide for being on the trail, but keep in mind it will start getting light about 25 minutes before that. Unless … 
• It’s cloudy. Thus, you’ll want to do the same thing you do for an evening hike: take a headlamp.
• Check the hours of the trail you’ll be hiking. Nearly all municipal and county parks have hours, ditto state parks and national parks, as well as land trust preserves. Some of them have nebulous “dawn-to-dusk” hours, most employ actual hours. Some have gates, some do not. National forests and game lands are about the only public lands that generally don’t have posted hours. Technically, you are trespassing if you are on a trail beyond its posted hours.
• Be content with a shorter hike. Odds are if you’re hitting the trail early it’s because you need to be somewhere in the morning — like work or school. Be realistic about your morning hike.
• Know your pace. Part of being realistic about how far you can hike is knowing how fast you hike. Let’s put that 8th grade algebra to the test: If it takes you 25 minutes to hike a mile and you need to be to be off the trail by 8 so you can get to work by 9, starting at sunrise, how far can you hike if you start at 6:50 a.m. (Answer: 3.)
• Eat breakfast first! It’s likely been at least 8 hours since you last ate. Even if you’re not a breakfast person, you need some fuel on board for the hike.

One last thought for those of you who still mope about not having sunlight after work. The winter solstice this year occurs on Dec. 21 (at 10:03 a.m. EST). That’s the day we have the least amount of sunlight (9 hours, 42 minutes, 59 seconds). However, through a quirk of astrosomethingorother, the sun will actually start setting later beginning Dec. 7 (at 5:04:54 p.m. as opposed to 5:04:52 the day before). By Dec. 21 it will be setting 3 minutes and 57 seconds later, and come the last day of the year, sunset won’t be until 5:15:12 p.m. 

You’ll be hiking after work again before you know it.

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