Wildcat 2, Hikers 0

Our adventure at Wildcat Hollow was not without mishap, note the score in the title racking up in favor of the park vs the hikers.  Seems the first part of the trip was the most exciting.  But first some set up ...

With two other hikers ensconced in my Forester, we set out east around 6:30 pm from Dayton to Columbus to add Rick to the caravan at the I70 to Rt 13 freeway exit that leads to the park.  This was supposed to be a three hour drive, at least according to Google.

Now I want to say that I ran this Google map and posted it on the Meetup site with the warning "Results May Vary".  I did not want somebody to come straggling into camp on Friday night all pissed off about my directions.  In the Meetup world the event organizer offers up suggestions but the rule is pretty much you are on your own.  I even suggested printing directions, knowing that Internet and even GPS can be spotty at best, non-existent the rest of the time.  I dutifully printed the maps and directions and we launched.

I won't go into detail since you pretty much already know where this is going. At some point the roads no longer bore any resemblance to the maps, and within seconds we were hopelessly lost.  Did I mention we had added a car to the group? Rick from Columbus fell in behind when we got off the freeway on to Route 13.

Don't even get me started on 13.  I had to pick Friday the 13th to start this trip. I was not superstitious about this date until now. I am officially a believer.  And  Route 13 comes into play here shortly ...

We are now cruising the east side of the park hopelessly looking for some right turn that ostensibly would take us right into the campsite.  In theory, or whatever.  Trust me there is no right turn.  What we had was some awesome roads, though.  Steep climbs that plunged the car into darkness after you bound over the crest and get a moment of "air time".  Other steep climbs that make you pray there is actually a road over the top, and occasionally -- there wasn't.  You crest and the road is twisting off one way or the other.  Brakes, turn, power the corner, fight the understeer and off to the next one.  Great fun, at least for the driver.

My navigator, unbeknownst to me, has a tendency towards carsickness.  In this situation, actually just about anybody would have a tendency for motion related disorders.  This was a serious stretch of road, at least by Ohio standards.  I come from a hillier part of the world where this kind of driving is the norm.

I hear a small voice.  "I don't feel very good."  We go into triage mode and determine that she needs to not be riding in a car at the next available opportunity.  Problem is we are not near camp, we are actually not near anything.  We pull over to inspect a turn and Rick and I confer.  He also loans me batteries for my dead GPS which comes to life and gives me at least some spatial awareness.

I had a plan.  Head south.  OK, I had a semblance of a plan.  That gave us options such as better roads, Internet access, places to stop, and a way to get back to Route 13.  The we could use some other directions from the Forest Service that guide you in from the south.  A suggestion was made to retrace our steps but it did not seem like a great idea to drag Laura through that section of road a second time.  So we head to the south end of the park, cut over to near Athens, download the directions once we got into some 3G, and within about half an hour we had arrived at the entrance to our campsite.

We made one additional stop in a little village so I could share my plan with Rick who was still gamely following me.  Right about then a pickup pulls up with a couple of good old boys, who actually rather politely asked if we were OK.  We assured them we were, and upon questioning they learned we were looking to camp in the forest. They gave me the look, and told me that I had been driving alongside the park for about 10 miles.  They never called me a dumb-ass, but the sentiment was there.  The fact there was not a road leading into the park did not dissuade them from wanting to offer up advice about going back the way we came, but my plan to seek Route 13 via Athens was pretty solid and that these guys were swigging Budweisers when they pulled up helped Rick and I to decide we were probably better off figuring this one out ourselves.  I appreciate their kindness though and I believe they actually wanted to help.

So we pull away with Laura hunkered down in the back seat making cat-like mewling noises every time I turned a corner.  Barb (my new navigator) and I zeroed in on the new route with military precision and aided by real directions got us to camp.  We had lost about an hour, which no doubt felt like a day and a half to our carsick hiker, but we were safe and sound and there!

By now you have already established that if I had stayed on Rt 13 from the get-go (remember Rt 13 is the exit off the freeway) we would have just cruised right into our site. I get that now.  Of course I got the questions about how I could get lost when I had been here before.  Once,  five years ago, in the daylight, with no Google maps. 

I still feel bad for poor Laura ... she is a special person to me and I felt absolutely horrible making her sick in the first place and then continuing to add to her misery as we went..  But the options were limited and we had to keep moving and she may not have noticed but I slowed things down a lot and stuck to good roads and tried to keep the motion down (the Forester is pretty tight but it is still an SUV).  Thankfully she recovered well and to her credit she rode back home with me.   I appreciate that vote of confidence, even though really what choice did she have?

So we arrived.  The park had scored a victory.  Combined with the rain on Saturday we were really building a deficit in this game.  The question is, who won?  Wildcat or Hikers?  We had fought hard and we were not ready to give up yet!  Stay tuned for second half action coming soon to Reboot, Select Adventure. 

New Gear!

I would like to start by thanking the JetBoil folks for creating an entire new method of printing.  I would estimate that each character in the instruction manual uses 1 molecule of ink.  Some day I will visit Rochester Institute of Technology when I head north to see my dad, and pop this pamphlet under their electron microscope so I can actually read it.  Until then I am just experimenting and hoping I don't blow something up.  How much damage can a 4 oz fuel container really do?



I got a JetBoil Sol and used it this weekend when I overnighted in Wayne National Forest.  So far I have learned that it boils water in 2 minutes in 40 degree temps and it weighs 13 oz or something like that.  If it passes muster it may come with me to the AT.  If not it will still be awesome for the slightly more luxurious weekenders that constitute the bulk of my hiking.

I also picked up a shell.  For around 100 bucks it supposedly repels rain, keeps you warm, and allows moisture to escape.  It's not a 300 dollar high tech device that will last for 10 years of continuous use, but in my world I can buy a new one every 5 years and still come out ahead considering I will buy my 4th with my first social security check.  It's a Patagonia TorrentShell and like the stove I expect it will do what it does without complaint and fail to awe me with features.

Hiking gear is like that.  The marketing is extreme and you can get to a point where you expect a pair of boots to download killer apps or a flashlight to double as a WiFi hotspot.  But boots are still boots and flashlights just light things up.  Reality meets hype pretty fast when you are gearing up for outdoor adventures.  When you are 20 miles from anything you want simple, easy and reliable.

I've already folded the jacket into it's own pocket;  that I believe is the most outstanding trick.  It will probably be rolled up like that for 5 years because it never rains when I hike.  Really!   By that time it will probably have fused together into a gelatinous blob and I will pry it apart to look at the tag and order number 2.

Now I have to fight off the comments.  I will no doubt find out this same jacket was on sale for 10 bucks at an REI online only, one day sale.   I will hear about the guy who wore one of these and spontaneously combusted.  I will be taught that this jacket is no good for mountains but OK for midwestern flatlands.  And I will be taught the next day that this jacket is totally wrong for midwest hikes but may be OK if I take it on a mountain.

Only time will tell if I chose wisely.  

UPDATE:  the stove cooked water and the jacket repelled water on the trail.  Woot. 

Wildcat 1, Hikers 0

Step, step, slide.  Step, step, climb.  Slowly we push on towards camp.  The rain is falling lightly now, perhaps I can remove the shell.  The skies look brighter, maybe this will end.  Then again does it really matter?  We're miles in to a National Forest - it's not like we can leave.

After a while we all adapted to the occasional slide.  You put your foot down and it just jets out from under you for 6 to 8 inches.  You stab your poles and dance a little jig and recover, until after a while these little moments are part of your movement.  You even miss the sliding when you hit dry ground, momentarily surprised that you are stable.

The rain started when we left the first camp on Saturday morning and continued off and on for the remainder of the day and well into the night.  It really did not dampen our spirits, though.  We hiked and talked and made quite the day of it, though we all were glad to reach our next camp and perform our own rituals to dry off and hunker down.

A few people disappeared into tents, not to be seen until the next morning.  Quite a feat I must say, given that we arrived in camp around 2:30 pm.  Not much lingering over the sights and few photo ops. Just a day to push on and so we did, getting to camp quite a bit sooner than I envisioned.  Now this is why I love camping in groups:  one couple had a tarp tent.  They just strung up that tarp, invited the remainder of us to join them and we were snug tucked away out of the rain where we all talked, stretched, cooked and shared a fun time together.

We all fought off hypothermia at some point.  A few folks squirreled away into tents to enjoy both some sleeping bag warmth and the sheer pleasure of stretching out flat for a spell.  Others started in with hot drinks or even full meals.  My moment came when I peeled off the wet t-shirt and replaced it with a dry fleece and my shell.  The shivering stopped and I felt like a new man!  Getting wet on a chilly day can be overwhelming and the last thing you want in this situation is to get chilled beyond easy recovery.  I had a dry base layer tucked away for last resort, preferably to have for sleeping.  Never needed it ... my fleece did the trick.

What situation?  We were hiking the 15 miles loop in Wildcat Hollow, part of Wayne National Forest in Southeast Ohio.  9 people set out Friday night to camp overnight at the trailhead with a decent Saturday start in mind.  Hike about half, camp Saturday night in the woods, and hike out Sunday.  I am pleased to report that 9 people left the trail on Sunday.  At least I hope so, we did get a faction of 3 come Sunday morning that decided to hike out fast using some of the roads.  They missed the best part of the hike, but I was glad for the time we had together and thoroughly enjoyed their company on Saturday. 

We huddled, we dripped, we complained a little ... but we survived, and I might add we did do in great style.  Turns out the rain was really not the big story of the weekend.  There are two other posts coming that pretty much epitomize the hiking experience.

9 miles and 21 pounds

Last Saturday a few of the AT folks got together a conditioning hike at local park.  Open to all, 5 normal people showed up too.  A smartly dressed gaggle of women with trim waist packs were waiting at the trailhead while the three of us arrived in a flurry of activity and a bit late (excuse: we were staging cars at the end point to shuttle us back to the start).

If you are not familiar with a conditioning hike, it's where you strap on your backpack loaded down with more weight than you plan on carrying and you hike.  So we arrive complete with full-size overloaded backpacks, technical hiking boots, the ever-present trekking poles and a complete complement of attitude.  Why the five women did not flee on our arrival remains a mystery.

Setting the record straight, I was not planning on a full pack.  My goal was to carry the exact amount of weight I have lost to date.  Since I weighed in that morning at 17 pounds under my full winter bloat, I opted to go for 20 pounds.  Including the pack, 3 liters of water, 24 ounces of Gatorade, a tent (it was handy) and a small stack of old phone books (even handier) I finally settled at 21 pounds. 

The phone books.  I should probably not have mentioned those, here or at the hike.  There were plenty of jokes: "Todd is prepared, if we need to order a pizza" or "If we need a fire we can burn Todd's phone books". Things like that.  But hey,  they were sitting right there next to the recyclables.  Instant weight!

Good news is we all completed the hike without incident and I think to a person we could have hiked more.  That evening and the day after I felt no pain or stiffness and all of the joints were happy.   However it did teach me a bit about how quick I can dehydrate, especially on a cool day when the sweat evaporates quick. 

The pack was fine on my back ..but that sucker was heavy to pick up.  Makes sense, a fully loaded pack is a struggle and this was not quite that bad.  But you grab this thing by the little handle and heft it around and 21 pounds is a noticeable burden.  Heavy enough that I double checked the weight of the pack when I got home.  Simple technique: weigh yourself with pack, then sans pack, then subtract.  I confirmed the previous measurement.  It was 21 and another interesting number was revealed - I was now 21 pounds lighter than my winter max.  Or 5 pounds lighter than when I started the hike that morning.

Running the numbers, that is about 10 cups of water.  Maybe I should have hit that three liters I packed a little harder.  I put it back on quick with a combination of water, Gatorade, and beer and by Monday I close to where I was.

By Wednesday I had stabilized back at the 21 pounds loss so the downward trend continues.  So some nifty take-aways:  21 pounds is one heck of a burden and I no longer am carrying at least that on a daily basis.  My goal to carry my exact weight loss in the backpack was achieved with startling success.  I can do 9 miles without falling over.  And most important, I swear that whatever junk I stuff in my pack will remain a secret.  There are some things you should not share, even with close friends.

The Lost Park

As part of my commitment to the local hiking club I decided to start a series of local hikes called "Parks You've Never Heard Of".  This requires that I actually find parks that a good percentage of the group has not been to.  A few other things I look for are a decent trail, natural surroundings, and a chance to clock off at least a couple of miles.  Given the opportunity I would rather not follow a paved trail through manicured grass around ball diamonds ... that is what my morning runs are like! 

A few weeks ago I went in search of an interesting park called the Cemex Reserve.  Part of a local mining operations agreement, it is an effort to reclaim some land that is an important part of the local wetland ecosystem.  Tucked away between freeways and housing developments, it is close to 160 acres so it is very apparent on a map.  There is even an address on the Web sit.

I headed out and followed Google maps on my Android and got to where I could see glimpse of what I assumed was my park.  I drove in circles, through neighborhoods, back and forth and never could locate the entrance.  I abandoned the effort is lieu of re-inspecting another park close by which became my first hike in the series, which I called "Fun with Fossils" at an abandoned quarry that had been reclaimed by city government and turned into a very unusual park that literally transports you back 450 million years and allows you to take home rocks with Silurian era Crinoid fossils embedded within. 

Last weekend I was participating in a 5 mile run ... as a course observer manning the finish line.  After the event a runner reported a lost key on a lanyard .  I decided to drive the course to see what I could see.  As I followed the signs and pavement chalk it took me up into some neighborhood and as a rounded a corner -- there was my park!  I knew it was in the area and had even given a passing thought to restarting my aborted search between this event and the fossil hike coming up later that day.  Honestly though, I had no idea that I was right there and my random key search would reveal something completely unexpected.

So it was a good day.  I had a chance to help some friends host their first ever race for MSA.  I found my missing park.  I led a fun hike for about 2 1/2 miles and we collected fossils and stood on top of ancient coral beds.  Overall for the week I put in around 10 miles ... not bad considering some emergencies that occupied a good chunk of the week.  I led two hikes, and I am one step closer to being at least marginally fit for the Appalachian Trail. 

Oh yes, I think I have proven that I have a penchant for history and unusual places.  Wait until you hear about the Argonne Forest!