{"id":201643,"date":"2026-03-23T15:15:02","date_gmt":"2026-03-23T22:15:02","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.rei.com\/blog\/?p=201643"},"modified":"2026-03-24T08:32:35","modified_gmt":"2026-03-24T15:32:35","slug":"hiking-burn-zones","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.rei.com\/blog\/camp\/hiking-burn-zones","title":{"rendered":"In Defense of the Burn Zone\u00a0"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

I started my watch at 5:26am as I left my hotel in Cascade Locks, the Columbia River Gorge town where I began my southbound thru-hike of the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT) through Oregon. It was the last Monday of June 2025, and I was eager to beat the heat: Temperatures were forecast to top 90\u00b0F. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Oregon has three designated \u201calternates\u201d to the main Pacific Crest Trail: the Rim Trail around Crater Lake, a small detour in Mount Hood to see a 120-foot waterfall and the Eagle Creek Trail\u2014which I was now starting\u2014featuring picturesque waterfalls like the iconic Tunnel Falls, where hikers can walk behind a curtain of water.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\u00a0had last hiked\u00a0the\u00a0Eagle\u00a0Creek Trail in 2016. Back then, it was lush and wet. But\u00a0on\u00a0September 2, 2017, a teenager threw a firecracker into a dry ravine along the Eagle Creek Trail\u00a0during a burn ban, igniting a fire that burned some\u00a048,000 acres\u00a0of the trail and surrounding areas in the weeks to come.\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Now, the surviving Douglas firs flanking the trail greeted me again, bearing charred scars at the base of their trunks. The nearby hills glowed bald in the morning light. Six miles in, I reached my first view of Tunnel Falls. Before this area burned, I gasped in awe at first sight: a bold line of water framed by trees dripping with moss. Now, bare conifers lined the cascade, which still thundered into a basin below. The forest\u2019s fibrous flesh was gone, but lifeblood still ran through it. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

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\"Picture<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

No one says it outright, but many thru-hikers consider burn zones less \u201cworth\u201d hiking than what they imagine to be pristine forest.   <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Before my\u00a02025\u00a0trip, someone\u00a0in a PCT Facebook group\u00a0asked about large trail sections in Washington \u2018with fire damage that aren\u2019t pretty to hike through\u2019\u00a0On\u00a0trail, I met hikers\u00a0who skipped days of hiking through scorched\u00a0terrain in\u00a0northern\u00a0California, hoping for greener pastures in Oregon.\u00a0Those hiking northbound\u00a0told me about long stretches of burn zones I had\u00a0coming\u00a0up, complaining about the lack of shade and miles of blowdowns.\u00a0On\u00a0FarOut,\u00a0an\u00a0app that\u00a0helps\u00a0plan\u00a0water\u00a0sources, campsites\u00a0and resupplies, users\u00a0routinely\u00a0comment\u00a0on\u00a0campsites in newly burned areas, warning others of\u00a0widow\u00a0makers\u2014 burned, weakened trees that could\u00a0fall on your tent\u00a0overnight. Hiking through burn zones\u00a0requires\u00a0attention and care. You\u00a0can\u2019t\u00a0just\u00a0move\u00a0on cruise control.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But\u00a0the Pacific Crest Trail, like so many other trails, is\u00a0constantly\u00a0changing\u00a0as wildfires become more frequent and intense.\u00a0Even though fires have long been natural and necessary\u00a0for\u00a0maintaining\u00a0healthy forests,\u00a0decades\u00a0of fire suppression, diminishing snowpack, prolonged heat and\u00a0drought, and\u00a0climate-change-driven\u00a0lightning strikes\u00a0have made fire an ever-present\u00a0force.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

To immerse yourself in a changing trail is to be a part of nature\u2019s story. If the trail changes, hikers who choose to experience it ought to change alongside it\u2014to shift our expectations, to prepare ourselves for the hazards these changes might present. To experience a burn zone, in all its stages, is a privilege\u2014a chance to witness the wilderness as it transforms.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

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That first\u00a0hot day, I continued deeper into the\u00a0heart of the\u00a0Eagle Creek burn.\u00a0There was no shade, but instead of focusing on what was missing, I noticed what had returned\u00a0in the\u00a0fire\u2019s\u00a0aftermath:\u00a0Bushes\u00a0of hemlock, thimbleberries,\u00a0salmonberries\u00a0and small patches of wild strawberries\u00a0lined\u00a0the trail.\u00a0Fireweed and tiger lilies bloomed\u00a0bright\u00a0and\u00a0defiant.\u00a0Young conifers, not more than\u00a03\u00a0feet tall, dappled the landscape.\u00a0As I climbed, I saw more of the 2017\u00a0burn\u00a0at scale. I wondered why the fire stopped where it\u00a0did\u00a0and why\u00a0some tree stands survived\u00a0while others were burned.\u00a0Why, in any disaster, are some spared while others are decimated?\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Most of\u00a0the Eagle Creek\u00a0fire\u00a0burned\u00a0in a classic mosaic, which means the severity varied across the burn\u00a0area.\u00a0Mosaic fires\u00a0aren\u2019t\u00a0anomalies:\u00a0They\u2019re\u00a0part of what once created the forests hikers now idealize as\u00a0\u201cuntouched.\u201d\u00a0Indigenous communities used fire<\/a>\u00a0to\u00a0cultivate mosaic landscapes.\u00a0They cleared land for\u00a0crops, encouraging the growth of specific plant species,\u00a0and\u00a0supporting wildlife.\u00a0The result was\u00a0akin to a patchwork quilt:\u00a0Fire\u00a0was intentionally used to, say, cordon\u00a0patches of\u00a0forest with grasslands,\u00a0prairies\u00a0or wetlands.\u00a0Burns\u00a0helped\u00a0create ecological diversity\u00a0and\u00a0reduce\u00a0otherwise catastrophic wildfires\u2019 severity.\u00a0Colonization\u00a0removed many\u00a0Indigenous\u00a0communities\u2019\u00a0ownership\u00a0of their land;\u00a0the US. Forest Service\u2019s\u00a0establishment\u00a0encouraged\u00a0forest managers\u00a0to\u00a0criminalize\u00a0Indigenous\u00a0prescribed-burning\u00a0traditions.\u00a0Without\u00a0this kind of fire, forests have continued to grow unchecked.\u00a0Ironically, the continuous\u00a0forests\u00a0hikers\u00a0romanticize,\u00a0which\u00a0have\u00a0emerged\u00a0as a result of\u00a0fire suppression,\u00a0are what fire ecologists see as a ticking time bomb.\u00a0\u201cContinuous forests everywhere is a recipe for very large fires that can charge large areas all at once and reduce seed source for the next forest,\u201d explains University of Washington\u00a0forest\u00a0ecologist Susan Prichard.\u00a0Fires today\u00a0may\u00a0infuse some quality of the mosaics that were created at much larger scales prior to settler colonialism, she says.\u00a0They\u00a0may not fit today\u2019s vision of wild beauty\u2014that is,\u00a0miles and miles\u00a0of verdant overstory\u2014but they\u00a0sure\u00a0were\u00a0functional.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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\"Photo<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

By the time I got south of Mount Hood, I\u00a0encountered\u00a0burn zones\u00a0nearly every\u00a0day.\u00a0I\u2019m\u00a0the type of hiker who is constantly checking\u00a0the\u00a0Gaia\u00a0GPS app\u2014I want to know where I am, what peaks\u00a0I\u2019m\u00a0looking at\u00a0and\u00a0more\u00a0about the history beneath my feet. On the\u00a0app,\u00a0I\u00a0use\u00a0the US Geological Survey\u2019s Historical Wildfire Layer,\u00a0which\u00a0shows the boundaries of\u00a0past years\u2019\u00a0fires.\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

On July 4, I walked through land burned in the 2014 Logging Unit fire. The next day, I entered the burn scar from the 2020 Lionshead fire. That burn was so massive\u2014larger than New York City\u2014that I continued hiking through it the next day. The landscape there struck me: <\/sup>Even five years after the burn, the landscape was dotted with obsidian toothpicks, the soil ash gray. Only small shrubs were beginning to take hold.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ten days later, I crossed into the 2022 Cedar Creek fire zone<\/a>. Grassy clumps and clusters of violet one-seeded pussypaws were emerging\u2014the beginnings of life in an exposed, sun-scorched landscape.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

In these unshaded, high-severity burns, the heat felt unrelenting, even with adequate water and sun protection. But, what if that\u2019s the point? Wildfires are brutal, and so are the forces that have made them more common: settler colonialism, corporate climate science denial, extractive legislative policies. Why should the backcountry be exempt from the systems that otherwise shape the world we live in?  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

In these\u00a0seemingly barren\u00a0areas, I also\u00a0couldn\u2019t\u00a0help but\u00a0wonder about the\u00a0burn\u2019s\u00a0story, the\u00a0land\u2019s\u00a0story.\u00a0Who\u00a0were the Indigenous stewards who tended\u00a0this place prior to colonization, and how? How did the fires start?\u00a0How hot did they burn? How did it\u00a0ultimately end?\u00a0If the scorched trees could speak, what would they say?\u00a0Lost in my musings wandering through the Cedar Creek burn, one tree spoke to me. It stood\u00a0tall,\u00a0its crown obliterated in the fire. What remained looked like a middle finger, cursing everything that took away its home.\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Fire ecologists and researchers tend to measure post-wildfire recovery in terms of tree regeneration. But Prichard and her colleagues believe measuring tree regeneration isn\u2019t the only way to determine if a forest is recovering. Some forests can rebound in a few years; others take centuries. \u201cIf it takes five to ten years to [start recovering], that\u2019s a blink in the longer timescale of how forests operate,\u201d fire ecologist Brian Harvey told me.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Instead, there\u2019s a lot to pay attention to before total regeneration happens. Wildflowers, for example, bloom in these scorched landscapes. Fireweed, lilies, shooting stars and penstemon\u2019s small lilac-colored buds can brighten a landscape. To Prichard, the explosion of color is like a second fire. Many of these areas become much more diverse, as well. Harvey studies recovery in Washington\u2019s Norse Peak fire zone, which burned approximately 10 miles of the PCT in 2017. Eight years later, the new growth is more diverse than before.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Fire is destructive, he says,\u00a0\u201cbut it\u2019s opening space for nature\u2019s creative process to unfold.\u201d\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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On July 21, south of Crater Lake, I entered the 2017 Blanket Creek burn when a hiker donning neon green pants approached. Obi-Wan (his trail name) exchanged pleasantries as he waited for his brother, Chug Jug, to catch up. We noted how comfortable the temperatures felt, particularly walking through a burn zone. Some of the conifers were growing back, but not enough to build a shady overstory.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

When I told them the burn happened in 2017, they looked at each other in an I-told-you-so kind of way. The brothers had been guessing the ages of regrowth in burn zones. I mentioned the Gaia app\u2019s wildfire layer; they seemed eager to check it out.   <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Our conversation was brief, but it stayed with me. It was the only moment on trail when I experienced curiosity\u2014not complaint nor dismissal\u2014when talking about burn zones. It made me wish more hikers had the same type of wonder. <\/p>\n\n\n

Considerations of Recreating in Burn Zones<\/strong>\u00a0<\/h2>\n\n\n

Hiking in a burn zone is different from hiking on a wooded trail unaltered by fire, and it  comes with unique hazards. Here are some practical tips for staying safe.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Check the Weather <\/strong> 
If you plan on camping or recreating in burn zones, check the weather before you go. Trees that have been burned, even at the base, are very unstable and can topple over in high winds. If you’re camping, set up your tent away from trees scarred by fire. Burnt trees are often called \u201cwidow makers\u201d because they can unexpectedly fall or lose branches, causing serious injury or death. \u201cThey [can] be coming down for probably a decade or more following some of these fires,\u201d says Harvey. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Use Sun Protection<\/strong> 
Burn zones offer little shade. Be prepared with sunscreen, a wide-brimmed hat and sun-protective clothing.   <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Stay Hydrated <\/strong> 
Sun exposure may increase the risk of dehydration. If you choose to filter water from lakes in burn scars, be mindful that the sediment load increases after a fire, which could put more stress on your water filter.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Protect Your Feet<\/strong> 
Use gaiters to prevent debris from entering your shoes because ash can cause friction and blisters if it gets in them. If you\u2019re prone to blisters, consider taking off your socks during a break to air out your feet.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Stay on Trail <\/strong> 
After a fire, forests are more susceptible to nonnative or invasive species taking a foothold, says Harvey, because there\u2019s more space available. Brush off boots and clothing both before and after hikes, and stay on trail to minimize spreading foreign species. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Watch Your Footing and Stay Aware<\/strong> 
Any time there\u2019s a dead tree, there\u2019s the potential of rotting wood and roots.  Morels (which fruit after a forest fire) may draw foragers off trail, but know that burned wood may collapse underneath your feet. In winter, skiers should be cautious: Shallow snowpack may hide sharp snags.  <\/p>\n<\/span>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I started my watch at 5:26am as I left my hotel in Cascade Locks, the Columbia River Gorge town where I began my southbound thru-hike of the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT) through Oregon. It was the last Monday of June 2025, and I was eager to beat the heat: Temperatures were forecast to top 90\u00b0F.  Oregon has three designated \u201calternates\u201d to the main Pacific Crest Trail: the Rim Trail around Crater Lake, […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":14208,"featured_media":201656,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[2],"tags":[2292,15,650],"internal-tag":[2011],"class_list":["post-201643","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-camp","tag-backcountry","tag-backpacking","tag-thru-hiking","internal-tag-home-secondary"],"parsely":{"version":"1.1.0","canonical_url":"http:\/\/rei.com\/blog\/camp\/hiking-burn-zones","smart_links":{"inbound":0,"outbound":0},"traffic_boost_suggestions_count":0,"meta":{"@context":"https:\/\/schema.org","@type":"NewsArticle","headline":"In Defense of the Burn Zone\u00a0","url":"http:\/\/www.rei.com\/blog\/camp\/hiking-burn-zones","mainEntityOfPage":{"@type":"WebPage","@id":"http:\/\/www.rei.com\/blog\/camp\/hiking-burn-zones"},"thumbnailUrl":"https:\/\/www.rei.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/4\/2026\/03\/IMG_9643.jpg?resize=150%2C150","image":{"@type":"ImageObject","url":"https:\/\/www.rei.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/4\/2026\/03\/IMG_9643.jpg?fit=4032%2C3024"},"articleSection":"Camp","author":[{"@type":"Person","name":"Sarah Grothjan"}],"creator":["Sarah Grothjan"],"publisher":{"@type":"Organization","name":"Uncommon Path \u2013 An REI Co-op Publication","logo":""},"keywords":["backcountry","backpacking","thru-hiking"],"dateCreated":"2026-03-23T22:15:02Z","datePublished":"2026-03-23T22:15:02Z","dateModified":"2026-03-24T15:32:35Z"},"rendered":"