A trail (also track, byway) is a path with a rough beaten or dirt/stone surface used for travel. Trails may be for use only by walkers and in some places are the main access route to remote settlements. Some trails can also be used for hiking, cycling, or cross-country skiing and less often for moving cattle and other livestock.
Other articles related to "trail":
... The Pacific Crest Trail (commonly abbreviated as the PCT, and occasionally designated as the Pacific Crest National Scenic Trail) is a long-distance mountain hiking and equestrian ... The trail's southern terminus is on the U.S ... The Pacific Crest Trail is 2,663 mi (4,286 km) long and ranges in elevation from just above sea level at the Oregon-Washington border to 13,153 feet (4,009 m) at Forester Pass in the Sierra Nevada ...
... Maine, New Brunswick, and Quebec that the Appalachian Trail did not cover ... Following route selection, construction of the trail took place through the late 1990s ... He did this as part of his thruhike of the Eastern Continental Trail starting in Key West, Florida ...
... There were 26 households out of which 30.8% had children under the age of 18 living with them, 30.8% were married couples living together, 11.5% had a female householder with no husband present, and 50.0% were non-families. 38.5% of all households were made up of individuals and 19.2% had someone living alone who was 65 years of age or older ...
Famous quotes containing the word trail:
“We sank a foot deep in water and mud at every step, and sometimes up to our knees, and the trail was almost obliterated, being no more than that a musquash leaves in similar places, where he parts the floating sedge. In fact, it probably was a musquash trail in some places.”
—Henry David Thoreau (18171862)
“vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous
picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall,”
—Allen Ginsberg (b. 1926)
“And Change with hurried hand has swept these scenes:
The woods have fallen, across the meadow-lot
The hunters trail and trap-path is forgot,
And fire has drunk the swamps of evergreens;
Yet for a moment let my fancy plant
These autumn hills again: the wild doves haunt,
The wild deers walk: in golden umbrage shut,”
—Frederick Goddard Tuckerman (18211873)