The phrase "an endless trail" is correct and usable in written English.
It can be used to describe a path or journey that seems to go on without end, often in a metaphorical sense.
Example: "As I walked through the forest, I felt as if I was on an endless trail, surrounded by the beauty of nature."
Alternatives: "a never-ending path" or "an infinite route."
As the campaign grew bigger by the day, I accompanied Jonny on an endless trail of media interviews.
In the new year we will see a six-part ITV2 show called The Big Reunion which will find an endless trail of cheesy pop stars (Atomic Kitten!,5ive!, B*Witched!, 911!, Liberty X!, the Honeyz!) all reuniting for the first time since they broke up.
For nearly six frantic weeks until today, the search for seven heavily armed escapees from a maximum-security prison in Texas had gone nowhere, an endless trail of useless tips and fruitless leads that led investigators from Mexico to Mississippi to New York City.
Beyond that, there is an endless trail system through the backcountry and some of the most staggering granite monoliths you'll ever see.
Not easy with our adrenals spent from, what seemed, an endless trail of political attacks/counter attack footprints on both side of the fence, a never-ending war, a heating up in the Middle East, plus the Wall Street Roller Coaster indicating a global fiscal crisis that will not end anytime soon.
"It's an endless paper trail to no place," Mr. Cirigliano said.
He was revising a paper on dyscalculia -- an inability to perform calculations because of brain damage -- in his lab and thinking about a colleague's description of academia as an endless paper trail.
Collecting expenses can leave an endless paper trail – from ordering a whiskey rye for a client to paying cab fares to get to the conference, the last thing you want is a mountain of screwed up receipts.
The crane then lowered the R.O.V. into the turbulent water, its snubbed head pitching forward, its fibre-optic cable trailing behind it, like an endless tail.
More recently, over coffee in Dublin with my cousin, who is a painter, he told me, pointedly: "You know you've won the lottery, don't you?" On my way out of Dublin that same evening, traversing Ireland's busiest interchange, I watched the seemingly endless trail of tail lamps leaking from the city.
Without me knowing, the endless trail of betraying myself had caught up to me and knocked me off my feet, finally taking away my ability to run from what was best for me.
