We’re never doing THAT again!! The three of us were in resounding agreement with that sentiment when we collapsed into the car at 11 pm. We were famished from hiking through dinner and barely taking a single break over the past 18 miles. But, I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s back up and explain what the heck happened to turn a simple 2-day backpacking adventure into a nightmare scenario that involved three hours of night hiking, getting charged by unprovoked bison, and almost swearing off backpacking for good.
Perhaps you already know that August 25th is the anniversary of the establishment of the National Park Service. So, we decided to celebrate by taking a road trip to Theodore Roosevelt National Park in North Dakota – where the Great Plains meet the Badlands. This park consists of three separate units: the South Unit (near Medora, ND, and where the vast majority of the park’s visitors go), the North Unit (a more remote but beautiful example of the Badlands and the Little Missouri River about 60 miles further north), and the Elkhorn Ranch Unit (the site of President Theodore Roosevelt’s North Dakota ranch).
While doing some preliminary research about the park, Keith stumbled upon an article in Backpacker Magazine about the Achenbach Loop, a, 18.2-mile backcountry hiking trail that would take us deep in the heart of the Theodore Roosevelt Wilderness in the North Unit of the park. We’d get to climb to the top of steep barren slopes, overlook picturesque valleys, make multiple river crossings, and maybe even see some wild bison. It would be completely different than any other hike we’ve done as a family, and it sounded pretty darn cool. I was enthusiastically on board.
PREPARING FOR AN ADVENTURE
The day before our adventure began, I called the Park Ranger’s Office to arrange for our backcountry permit. After answering lots of questions about our backcountry hiking experience, our planned itinerary, and vehicle info – we were good to go. However, the ranger warned me that the route we planned to hike was a bit challenging to follow due because of all the game trails. She also brought up the fact that there were no real water sources (other than the one at the Juniper Campground) – and told us to plan for at least a gallon of water for each hiker.
The ranger’s final warning covered the wild bison roaming throughout the park. She went over some basic bison safety tips, and I felt confident that we’d know what to do when (or if) we saw them. I’d hiked the Trans-Catalina Trail earlier this year and encountered with an entire bison herd standing on trail. Plus, just a few days earlier, I’d safely worked my way around a few more bison on the Maah Daah Hey Trail near the park’s South Unit. No problem!
All in all, the three of us were pretty stoked for this adventure. Our plan was to park our car at the Juniper Campground and hike the Achenbach Loop counterclockwise over the course of two days. Finn and I just backpacked 50 miles of the Tahoe Rim Trail together back in early July. So, I knew two consecutive days of 8-10 miles of hiking would be nothing for him after that adventure.
Keith, on the other hand, was a bit of different story. We hadn’t backpacked together in many years. And, while I wasn’t worried about his endurance or stamina (he runs ~10 miles each day), I also know that he sweats like a madman and needs tons of water to stay hydrated. I’ve repeatedly joked that he wouldn’t last a single day on a desert adventure like the Arizona Trail simply because he wouldn’t be able to carry enough water to meet his needs.
And so that’s why I suggested we cache some water at the Oxbow Overlook about 8 miles into our hike. This would allow all of us to carry a slightly lighter load and still feel confident that we had a safety net.
WHERE WE WENT WRONG
The title of this post probably clued you in that this was NOT the short, fun adventure that we were initially looking forward to. We made at number of stupid mistakes and came dangerously close to a bad outcome several times on this trail. And the thing is, I can point you to one single decision that could have changed this journey from a miserable backcountry debacle to a truly enjoyable two-day hike. But, I’ll wait to reveal that advice at the end of this post, since the you really should know the story of how we got ourselves into this pickle in the first place.
PROBLEM #1 – We got too late of a start
I prefer to begin my longer hikes early in the morning. This allows me to take advantage of the cooler weather and log some good miles before the sun gets too high in the sky. However, since we were only hiking 8-10 miles each day (rather than powering through with my more typical 15-20 mile days), we decided to hold off driving out to the park until lunchtime.
Under normal circumstances, this might have been just fine. But, on this hike, the biggest thing it took away from us was flexibility. When things went wrong and we wanted to adjust our agenda, we found ourselves chasing daylight.
Our late start, plus the additional time it took us to drive out to Oxbow Overlook to cache our water, meant we didn’t actually get on the trail until 2:40 pm (though it still felt an hour earlier to us because the South Unit of the park where we woke up was in Mountain Time Zone, while the North Unit – just 60 miles away – was in the Central Time Zone). Bottom line: that’s far too late in the day to begin hiking this trail.
PROBLEM #2 – We didn’t account for the heat
Look, I know what you are thinking – the heat?!? Isn’t this hike you’re talking about in North Dakota? Yes it is. But apparently, there are frequent periods of the summer when the mercury rises up above 100 degrees in the Dakotas! And, our late start meant we were hitting the trail during the hottest part of the day, right in the midst of the brutal 95-degree heat wave. Furthermore, the entire trail runs through open grasslands or on top exposed badlands cliffs without any respite in the shade. So there was really no chance to escape the sun, and we’d ended up drinking far too much of our water to avoid overheating.
PROBLEM #3 – The web of game trails
The backcountry ranger warned me ahead of time that the Achenbach Loop would be difficult to follow because it was only lightly used by hikers. Meanwhile, the local game (deer, pronghorns, and bison) created an entire network of trails that sometimes follows the main trail, diverges from it, criss-crosses it, and so on. And while there were some generic wooden posts marking the trail, the tall brush often concealed the posts until we were right on top of them.
With a little advance warning of this problem, I decided to snap a route on my Gaia GPS App, so we’d have something to check when we got off track. Thank goodness for this decision. It would be invaluable as we switched up our plans later that evening.
During the day though, we found ourselves wandering off-trail multiple times. That usually occurred because we opted to followed the most dominant track in the dirt – and that was often NOT the actual trail. Over the course of the entire 18 miles, we accidentally ended up off trail close to a dozen times, but Gaia always saved us and helped us find our mistakes.
PROBLEM # 4 – Unpredictable bison
As I mentioned above, we knew there would be bison in the park. We saw several small herds of them along the road as we drove out to drop off our water cache. So, it’s not surprising that we had our fist bison encounter a mere half hour into the hike. We crested a small rise, and he was standing there right there at the top only 150 or so yards away. I tapped my trekking poles together to grab his attention and to avoid startling him, and then we bushwhacked off the trail in a wide, judicious box until we were well past his spot.
He stared at us the entire time, but he didn’t move an inch. So no big deal, right? We’d continue use this box method several more times that afternoon without much issue, and we were feeling confident about the limits of the danger these beasts posed. It was such a light-hearted topic that we even joked with Finn that he better be careful when or where he ate his snacks (he’d packed some bison jerky) lest he anger all the lumbering bison.
But, then just before we got to Oxbow Overlook, the trial took a sharp turn and entered a draw. Keith and Finn stopped to drink some water and have a quick snack (and yes, Finn was literally eating the Bison jerky when this happened) while I trekked ahead toward our water cache. As they stood there at the mouth of the draw with their packs off, they heard a rumbling sound, and all of the sudden, a herd of about 5-6 bison rounded the bend and were running up the trail toward them. These giant beast were moving close to 30 mph, and within seconds were 10-15 yards away!
Finn raced in one direction to the top of a steep hill, while Keith began waving his arms and yelling. This frantic motion and noise was enough to startle the bison into stopping, but then a second, larger group of 8-10 bison ran right up behind them. Luckily, the initial group (who were now at a complete stop) served as a barrier that forced the second group of bison to stop too.
That’s when Keith grabbed their packs, hollered to Finn to follow him, and they started hurriedly moving up the trail toward me before the bison changed their mind. When they caught up to me, Finn was clearly traumatized by what had just happened, and he was literally shaking from all the adrenaline. He started telling us “he didn’t sign up for this,” and wanted to quit our hike right then and there.
Although we eventually convinced Finn the worst of it was over, he now had a healthy fear of bison and was worried they were just waiting for an opportunity to charge him. Our next few bison encounters weren’t nearly as dramatic, but Finn’s overly cautious reaction to them would impact the rest of our hike.
PROBLEM #5 – No one likes bushwhacking
Our continued attempts to box around the bison meant we usually had to leave the dirt trail and venture into the surrounding terrain. As we’d soon learn, the primary reason the bison was probably standing on the trail was because the surrounding flora was inhospitable and overgrown. And so, we tore up our shins bushwhacking between tall grasses, sage brush, juniper shrubs, and the like. In hindsight, it would have been wise to wear pants or long gaiters instead of our typical summer hiking shorts on this trail. I know our poor shins and thighs would have certainly thanked us.
This wildly rugged landscape also made it equally challenging to finding suitable rest spots and campsites. As we hiked along during the first few hours of the day, we noticed that every bit of flat terrain was either completely covered with spiky bushes or it was a minefield of massive dung piles. This meant that we didn’t spot too many places we felt were we could realistically set up a tent without worrying about the brush or bison boxing us in.
PROBLEM #6 – Our inadequate water plan
Although we took the precaution to cache water at Oxbow Overlook, it turns out it wasn’t nearly enough water to meet our needs. Between the intense heat and Keith and Finn’s higher than normal water consumption, they’d guzzled down nearly a gallon of water each in just 8 miles!! So, instead of just topping off our water from the gallon jug we’d left in our cache, they were now critically low on water. We quickly realized our collective water stock wasn’t nearly enough to get us through the rest of the this hike, let alone cook that evening’s dinner or the next morning’s breakfast.
I wasn’t panicking at this point though. While creating the route on my Gaia App, I noticed a short side trail that would supposedly lead us to the Mandal Spring about 2 miles further up the trail. And, if all else failed, we’d be at down the river in just 3.3 more miles. We could make our limited water supply last another hour or so without any problem.
Unfortunately, neither of those re-supply plans worked out in our favor. First off, we didn’t find the side trail to the Mandal Spring and ended up having to walk an extra mile off-trail through tall grass, small cactus, shrubs, muddy draws, and over steep sandy slopes in search of it. When we finally arrived, the spring was 100% dry. I knew we might be gambling on an unpredictable or seasonal water source, but I was still hoping for the best. But we’d also just wasted about 45 minutes and a lot of energy looking for water that didn’t exist.
I guess we had no other choice but to head down to the river. We were all tired and dehydrated by this time, and all I could think about was the bridge we’d driven over earlier in the day. When I looked out the car window, I remember thinking the Little Mo looked like thick chocolate milk. So there was still a good possibility this alternate water resupply plan might not work out well either.
When we got down to the river and filled our empty containers, it turned out to be the worst case scenario I’d been dreading. There was so much silt in the brown, muddy water that I was struggling to filter it. After close to 15 minutes (and having to backwash my Sawyer filter twice with precious filtered water) I barely had a liter of semi-clean water for us to drink. This was not good. Mosquitos were swirling around everywhere. We were critically low on water. And we were losing daylight.
That was the pivotal moment when I looked at Keith and he looked at me, and I uttered the unthinkable – “Let’s jut go back to the car.” Of course, it was now almost 8 pm and Juniper Campground was another 7 miles away. But, our choices were limited. Without enough drinkable water, we’d be setting ourselves up for a potentially dangerous failure. So, we quickly agreed to a new plan and would head back to our car that evening, no matter how many hours of night hiking it took.
PROBLEM #7 – The thick mud
Of course we went into this adventure knowing that the Achenbach Loop was going to require crossing the Little Mo twice. The first time would be 11 miles into our hike, while the second crossing would be at the very end (a mere 1/4 mile before Juniper Campground). Despite this information, I’ll admit we did not pack the best shoes for the river crossing.
All my river crossings in the past were through clear water with rock or dirt bottoms. Meanwhile, the Little Mo was a silty mess looking to complicate our lives. The muddy water never reached above our knees. And it wasn’t moving all that swiftly. But we still struggled to make our way across with any sort of speed because of the muddy bottom.
And the worst aspect of the river crossing wasn’t the river itself, but the suction from the peanut butter-like mud that wanted to pull your shoes right off. Finn and I packed sandals for the crossing, but the mud was literally ripping our sandals off our feet. At one point, I decided to just take my sandals off and walk barefoot, which left me with something that looked like chocolate frosting caking my feet and ankles. What a disaster.
PROBLEM #8 – Our unplanned night hike
Once we made the decision to venture back to the car instead of suffering through the evening with limited water, we knew it would require several hours of night hiking. All three of us brought our headlamps, so at least we were prepared for this possibility. And, I had already our route plugged into the Gaia app on my phone. So we could still navigate in the dark once we could no longer see the surrounding terrain features or trail markers.
Despite these tools, it wasn’t easy. Our pace dropped considerably in the dark. We had several more bison encounters. The first one involved two bison standing on or near the trail at dusk, and our efforts to box around them forced us to climb some unnecessarily hills and lose the trail yet again. Then, we nearly walked up on solitary beast lying beside the trail in the dark. Our headlamps caught the shining glare of his eyes on our approach, and we had to wander into waist-deep brush to ensure we didn’t provoke or startle him.
During these night hiking moments though, I developed a new appreciation for our Army training. Keith and I came up in the generation of soldiers who were forced to become proficient at night land navigation. This was long before GPS devices were a household staple, so we had to learn to read the terrain and use our compass and map. Those shared skills (while seldom-practiced in recent years) allowed us to work really well together as a team in the dark. He took point, following the trail and looking out for bison. Meanwhile, I followed behind him navigating with the GPS and course correcting as the game trails tried to lead us astray. I won’t say it was a fun experience that I’m eager to repeat anytime soon. But we made an excellent team, and set a good example for Finn in the process.
PROBLEM #9 – The rain
Of course, you know Mother Nature had to chime in and give her opinion about our plan to bail on this adventure early too. Only an hour before we hit the trail, I’d checked the 48-hour weather forecast and there was only a 10% chance of rain in the future. Yet an unexpected rainstorm began to pelt us as we were making our way across the Little Mo on our second river crossing that evening. As I felt the fat drops beginning to hit my face, I looked up at the dark heavens and nearly screamed, “Are you serious? Is it really raining on us now?? What more can possibly happen on this hike?”
Luckily, we were within a half mile of the car when the rain started. The end of the journey was in sight, and it didn’t truly sour our mood any further. However, given how much sedimentary rock and clay was along this hiking route, rain would unquestionably turned our hiking surfaces into a slick mess. This rain would have been downright dangerous if it had arrived an hour or two earlier into our night hike. So small blessings, I guess?
One decision would have changed everything
Look, challenges during a backcountry hike are wholly expected. That’s part of the reason it’s called an “adventure.” You’re not 100% sure what is going to happen – and somewhere deep down – part of you really wants something memorable to occur. Dealing with even all half of the adversity we encountered on this trip, ensured this hike was going to become instant lore in our family history.
But there’s a wide gap between memorable and miserable.
Having a herd of bison charging up the trail toward you at full speed and abruptly stopping short probably falls into the category of “Type 2 fun.” It’s character-building and might cause you to wet your pants in the moment. But, the epic stories you’ll later tell about that exhilarating episode are certain to be embellished time and time again.
Meanwhile, going thirsty on a hot trail with no good alternatives can only be described as “Type 3 fun.” Trust me.
- Discovering your water cache is woefully inadequate is a miserable moment.
- Finding out the spring you searched a mile off trail for is now dry – well, that’s equally agonizing.
- And then, being forced to rely on a near-impossible-to-filter silty river as your last resort is just plain ridiculous.
It was an gut-wrenching feeling in the moment, and it’s definitely something we never want to repeat on any future hikes.Yet, we could have made one (or two) minor tweaks to our plan that would have turned this misery into a wonderful adventure.
The Safe Option: Begin at Oxbow Overlook
Looking back our itinerary, it’s hard to deny the writing on the wall. The backcountry ranger gave me several subtle hints that should allowed me to foresee our inevitable predicament. She told us to carry extra water AND she warned us that Juniper Campground was the only spot on the trail with a piped water faucet.
In hindsight it would have been a far wiser option to begin our hike at Oxbow Overlook. This would have put Juniper Campground right to the middle of our loop – thereby giving us a 100% reliable water source when we needed it most. We initially rejected this option because we like the feeling of camping in the wilderness and away from all the front country crowds. Wouldn’t it defeat the purpose of this adventure if we just stopped at a developed National Park campground? Maybe. But then again, nobody is suggesting we actually camp there. We could have hiked into Juniper Campground – loaded up on as much water as we needed – then continued on another mile or so out into the backcountry for the night.
Making the water spigot at Juniper Campground the mid-point for our hike would have merely ensured we had enough water to turn this into a comfortable two-day adventure.
- We still would have gotten to hike the entire 18-mile Achenback Loop;
- There still would have been some bison encounters and water crossings to add spice to the trip;
- We would have enjoyed more of the trail because we wouldn’t have needed do 7 miles of night hiking;
- We wouldn’t have needed to cache water at all;
- There would have been an easy bailout point (i.e. we could have walked back to the car on the main road if things went south in the middle of the hike);
- And the Juniper Picnic Area would have provided a safe shelter if/when an unexpected rainstorm rolled in at night.
The Smart Option: A Bigger Water Cache
Yet, even if we rejected that “safe” option, and plowed ahead using our original itinerary, there’s one small change that would have made all a huge difference — leaving ourselves a more robust water cache. Sure, I was carrying 3 liters, and Keith and Finn had another 9 liters of water in their packs. So, we really did adhere to the ranger’s suggestion of carrying a gallon of water apiece. (For the metrically challenged: 1 U.S. liquid gallon is equal to 3.78 liters of liquid).
Yet, we failed to accurately account for the summer heat and how that might increase our water consumption as we went up and down the badland canyons without any shade. Our little joke that Keith needed to carry double the amount water to combat his excessive sweating wasn’t really all that far from the truth. In hindsight, it was probably foolish to think that a single one gallon jug was going to be a sufficient water cache for three people under those conditions.
And to be honest, there was no downside to leaving a bigger water cache at Oxbow Overlook. Very few people use this remote route. There’s no real fear that other hikers would stumble upon our cache and abscond with all our precious water. Plus, if we were willing to take the time to drive out there at the beginning of the hike and deposit the water, then surely we’d have the same willingness to return at the end of the hike to recover any unused water jugs we didn’t want pack out.
That minor change would have made a world of difference. It would have given us the flexibility to savor our two-day backpacking trip instead of hastily converting it into a death march back to the car that same night.
Final Thoughts
If you’re thinking about venturing out onto the Achenbach Loop, or any other backcountry hike, I hope our painful lesson makes you more cautious! If I’d spent a little more time researching the specifics of this wilderness trail instead of assuming North Dakota would be a walk in the park – I might have made some different choices. In the end, I learned a little complacency can be a lot dangerous.
Since returning from this adventure and putting my thoughts together, I’ve looked at some other trail journals just to see if our experience was an aberration. As it turns out, most of the first-hand accounts I read were spot on regarding the trail and its challenges. So, here’a few additional resources to round out my advice about the Achenbach Loop.
- Backpacking the Achenbach Trail (Unnamed Adventures)
- Two Days or Two Hours: The Achenback is Easiest This Time of Year. (Beautiful Badlands ND)
- Achenbach and North Achenbach Trail Loop (All Trails)
And here’s a few more about planning an effective water cache.
- How to Cache Water (How To Wilderness)
- How to Cache Water in a Forest (Backpacking Light forum)
- Caching Water (Backcountry Gear forum)
- Expert Advice on Hydration Basics (REI)
Happy hiking!
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