Lakeside, Arizona (March 27, 2025) The first time I hiked the Outer Loop was 20 years ago, and if you asked me when I last hiked this trail, the answer would still be 20 years ago. As I retraced those long-forgotten steps, I couldn’t help but wonder what kept me away for so long. With each passing mile, I realized that reconnecting with the trail wasn’t just a journey through nature—it was a journey through time. Well before I finished my hike, I was grateful I had finally returned.
Why? The Outer Loop seamlessly blended three passions of mine: the thrill of outdoor recreation, the awe of natural wonders, and the joy of lifelong learning.
Why? The Outer Loop seamlessly blended three passions of mine: the thrill of outdoor recreation, the awe of natural wonders, and the joy of lifelong learning.
The Thrill of Outdoor Recreation
The Outer Loop weaves together segments of three interconnected trails—Meadowview, Hitching Post Loop, and Turkey Track Loop—plus the entirety of Big Spring trail, to form an uninterrupted 3.7-mile pathway through the woods. Over the course of 90 minutes, I hiked mostly flat terrain, finding the hike both manageable and rewarding. As an intermediate hiker, the distance and pace were well within my comfort zone and provided a solid workout without breaking a sweat.
The elevation gain was a modest 232 feet, and that was primarily in one stretch of the trail. This wasn’t challenging in and of itself, but there were rocky sections and uneven surfaces, and for this reason, the trail was rated ‘moderate’.
One written advisory stuck with me before I set out: though the trail was generally well-marked, it was easy to stray onto other paths. Armed with a trusted mapping app and a careful eye, I stayed true to the course every step of the way.
The Awe of Natural Wonders
The trail was a living gallery of trees and shrubs, but none caught my attention more than the stately Ponderosa pine, which can grow as tall as 150-180 feet. Towering over all other woodland flora, their sheer scale was humbling—a powerful reminder of nature’s grandeur.
The sunlight that filtered through the high canopy caste a patchwork of patterns across the forest floor, while a gentle breeze created faint rustles as it weaved its way through the branches—a sound complemented by an occasional songbird.
This was Mother Nature at her best—both tranquil and awe-inspiring.
Big Springs, for which the trail was named, was another wonder of nature—a natural water source supporting a lush marshland that attracts ducks, western bluebirds, killdeer, and many other birds. Park benches dotted this section of the trail—each a vantage point for birdwatching and quiet contemplation.
As I hiked the Outer Loop, I paused frequently to fully immerse myself in the natural beauty that surrounded me—to be attentive, without distractions, to the sights, sounds, and subtle smells of the forest. Each moment was heaven sent.
The Joy of Lifelong Learning
I’m an avid learner—curious by nature and eager to explore—so, I welcomed the opportunity to learn from the Interpretive Trail Guide on Big Spring trail.
Here are a few fascinating takeaways:
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For me, there was no better classroom than the great outdoors, and no lessons more interesting than the ones nature taught me. This was why I cherished every hike I’ve taken...and the hikes to come.
An Anecdote from the Woodland Lake Outer Loop Trail
Hiking, I’ve learned, has a way of attracting all sorts of people, from casual explorers to seasoned adventurers. The sole hiker I crossed paths with seemed to fall somewhere in between.
I first spotted him about 30 yards ahead, as he made his way toward me on the trail. He was spindle-thin and bow-legged, and as the gap between us closed, I realized he was no spring chicken. He’s got to be in his 80s, I thought.
As he drew closer, I noticed his attire: weathered work boots, broken-in jeans, a utility vest layered over a vintage flannel shirt, and a faded ball cap. Practical and rugged, his dress was the epitome of an old-time hiker.
We exchanged a quick “hello” as we passed one another. Then, no more than five seconds later, I turned back for one more look. In that short time, he had made surprising progress down the trail, covering ground faster than I expected. He was not only an old-time hiker, but a spry old man, too. I couldn’t help but smile, thinking, I hope someone can say that about me a decade or so from now!
Until next time, happy trails to you.
I first spotted him about 30 yards ahead, as he made his way toward me on the trail. He was spindle-thin and bow-legged, and as the gap between us closed, I realized he was no spring chicken. He’s got to be in his 80s, I thought.
As he drew closer, I noticed his attire: weathered work boots, broken-in jeans, a utility vest layered over a vintage flannel shirt, and a faded ball cap. Practical and rugged, his dress was the epitome of an old-time hiker.
We exchanged a quick “hello” as we passed one another. Then, no more than five seconds later, I turned back for one more look. In that short time, he had made surprising progress down the trail, covering ground faster than I expected. He was not only an old-time hiker, but a spry old man, too. I couldn’t help but smile, thinking, I hope someone can say that about me a decade or so from now!
Until next time, happy trails to you.