In a place like Sedona, trails can feel like they have always been here.
People have moved across this landscape for a very long time. Some routes likely began as practical paths between places. Others may have followed wildlife movement, water sources, grazing routes, viewpoints, agricultural areas, or places with cultural and spiritual significance. Over time, people tend to find the same natural corridors through the land.
In that sense, trails can “just happen.”
But in a modern trail system, especially in a place that sees as much use as Sedona and the Red Rock Ranger District, we cannot rely on happenstance. A trail that forms naturally from repeated use is not always sustainable. It may follow a fall line, cross sensitive soils, ignore drainage patterns, or climb directly to a destination in a way that creates erosion, widening, and long-term maintenance problems.
That is where intentional trail design comes in.
Modern trail planning is about more than building a path through the desert. It is about understanding the landscape, the people who use it, the places they are trying to reach, and the long-term health of the land itself. In the Turkey Creek Trail System, one of the main organizing ideas behind that work is stacked loop design.
Take a few minutes to enjoy this discussion between Kevin Kuhl from the Red Rock Ranger District and Lars Romig from Verde Valley Cyclists Coalition discuss the process that went into designing the Turkey Creek Trail System.
A stacked loop system is built around progression. The most approachable trails are generally located closest to the trailhead. These close-in loops give users a way to enjoy a shorter hike, ride, run, school outing, or after-work session without committing to a long or remote experience. As users move farther into the system, the trails can become longer, more physically demanding, more technical, or more committing.
This creates a natural structure. Beginners can stay close. Intermediate users can build confidence. Advanced users can travel deeper into the system for bigger terrain and more challenging experiences. But a good stacked loop system is not simply “easy trails near the front and hard trails in the back.” It also needs connectors and arterial routes that allow people to move through the landscape without forcing every user onto the hardest trail. Some people may have the fitness to travel deep into the system without having the technical skill for the most advanced features.
That balance is a major part of trail architecture.
Before any of that can happen, designers have to start on the ground. They look for what are often called control points: the places and features that shape where a trail should go, and just as importantly, where it should not go. Some control points are opportunities, such as scenic viewpoints, slickrock benches, ridgelines, rock formations, existing trail connections, or places people are already trying to reach like overlooks, sunset spots, and high points. Others are constraints, such as sensitive soils, drainages that need careful crossings, cultural resources, wildlife concerns, or areas that should be avoided altogether.
Good trail design is the process of connecting the right opportunities while respecting the constraints of the landscape.
That means asking important questions early in the process. Where are people already going? What is drawing them into the landscape? Are there informal routes already being used? If so, are those routes sustainable, or are they creating erosion and resource impacts? Sometimes the best answer is to improve or formalize an existing corridor. Other times, the better solution is to replace an unsustainable route with a new alignment that still provides the experience people are looking for.
A strong trail system is not designed from a map alone. Maps are useful, but they cannot fully show soil conditions, subtle drainages, rock layers, sight lines, vegetation, or how a trail actually feels as it moves through the terrain. That is why ground-truthing matters.
For Turkey Creek, trail specialists and designers worked with local users, land managers, schools, equestrians, hikers, mountain bikers, and people who know the landscape well. That local knowledge helps identify existing use patterns, important destinations, problem areas, and opportunities that may not be obvious on a screen. After gathering that information, designers walk the ground, study grades and hydrology, look at soils and drainage patterns, and consider possible cultural or archaeological concerns before a final alignment is ever built.
Early in the process, designers are often walking corridors with GPS rather than putting final flags in the ground. This is important because once markings appear on the landscape, people may start following them before the trail has been reviewed, approved, or constructed. At this stage, the goal is to develop a thoughtful conceptual design that can be reviewed by the Forest Service and other specialists. Things can still change, but the overall system needs to make sense before individual trail segments move forward.
The primary non-motorized users in this system are hikers, mountain bikers, and equestrians. Each group has different needs, and each group includes a wide range of experience levels.
Mountain bikers may include beginners who want something approachable, intermediate riders looking for flow and progression, and advanced riders looking for more technical terrain. Hikers may include people looking for a short scenic walk, families wanting a mellow loop, runners fitting in a quick outing, or stronger hikers looking for a climb to a high point and a sunset view. Equestrians often value open, flowing corridors with appropriate grades, good sight lines, room for horses to move comfortably, and meaningful connectivity.
A well-designed stacked loop system does not make every trail serve every user in the same way. Instead, it creates a range of opportunities that fit together into one cohesive network. Some trails may be broad, approachable connectors. Some may lead to viewpoints. Some may provide longer equestrian loops. Some may use slickrock and terrain to create a more technical mountain bike experience. The system works because the pieces relate to one another.
Sedona’s terrain makes this especially powerful.
On a map, a stacked loop system can sometimes look dense. Trails may appear close together, or almost stacked on top of one another. But on the ground, the Red Rock landscape changes everything. Sedimentary layers, slickrock shelves, benches, ridgelines, drainages, and vertical breaks can make two nearby trails feel completely separate. One trail may sit 200 feet above another. One may be tucked into a mellow corridor while another uses a higher, more technical rock feature.
That terrain separation allows different trail experiences to exist close together without feeling crowded. It also helps manage speed, difficulty, and user expectations. One trail can maintain lower grades and serve a broad range of users, while another nearby alignment can use terrain to create a more challenging experience.
This is especially important in Sedona, where high trail use can create congestion on popular corridors. A well-designed stacked loop system gives people room to spread out. It creates enough mileage, variety, and separation that users can still have an immersive experience rather than feeling funneled onto the same few trails.
Sustainability is the other side of the equation.
Many older trails were adopted because people were already using them. Some became beloved routes, but they were not always designed for long-term durability. They may have followed fall lines, crossed erodible soils, ignored drainage, or taken the fastest route to a destination. Over time, soil can disappear, embedded rock becomes more exposed, corners widen, and the trail experience changes.
Modern trail design tries to learn from that history. Sometimes that means placing trail on slickrock, where steeper grades may be more durable. Sometimes it means pulling a route out of sandy or erosive soils. Sometimes it means designing features so they remain more consistent over time instead of changing unpredictably with every season of use and weather.
At its best, stacked loop design is not just a layout strategy. It is a way of building a complete trail system.
It brings together control points, user groups, grades, hydrology, soils, views, cultural resources, drainage, skill progression, connectivity, sustainability, and long-term durability. It creates close-in loops, deeper adventures, scenic destinations, technical challenges, mellow connectors, and meaningful routes for hikers, mountain bikers, and equestrians.
When trail design is done well, the trail feels like it belongs there. It fits the land. It protects the resource. It helps people move through the landscape in a better way. And it creates experiences that can last for generations.
