dangerdave
09-28-2014, 21:47
As many of you know, I'm not a long distance hiker. And most of the sports I've been involved with in my fifty (+) years do not lend their muscles set to walking/climbing/stumbling up and down mountains all day. The AT has spoken to my nomad blood, and I am listening. But I am still a noob, just a THWB (thru-hiker wanna be). I need to learn. Learn by doing. I wanted to share my doing with my classmates, particularly the dregs of the barrel, those non-long-distance-hiking-haven't-done-this-before-THWB's. You experienced hikers can go have a smoke, or Coke, or stand over there and snicker at the noobs.
Having finally rounded up all my gear, I was very much ready to shake this thing down. So I told my wife I was going hiking for the day. She said, "I know." I only scratched my chin a little at her tone, then grabbed my new Granite Gear Blaze AC 60 back pack and started stuffing my gear inside. Halfway through, I pulled it all back out and carefully selected the order in which things might be needed. Bag and pad on the bottom. Extra clothes. Tent and ground sheet. Then pack cover and rain gear. Food and water treatment. Topped off with my foam seat pad. Platypus in the outside sleeve. Extra stuff on side pockets. Around twenty-five pounds fully loaded. Less than I had expected. Nice! I wasn't going to need any of this on the trail today, but my goal was to carry virually everything I would be lugging on the AT. I wanted to see what it would be like.
I got up early Saturday morning. It was still dark outside, and cool. The crickets laughed at me as I tossed my pack and poles into my trusty truck, growling at my lack of coffee. I had forgotten to pick up some at the store the previous day. We firefighters virtually live on coffee, an addiction I will have to fundamentally address on the AT. For today, I would let the Trail decide my fortune. The Trail does not start when you hit the woods. It begins at your front door.
The sky in the east was just changing hue when I stopped at Krogers for supplies. I got a box of Shells & cheese, some bacon bits, two Cliff Bars, and two Snikers for less than seven dollars. On the way out, I approached the Starbucks stand (yea, I knew it was there), where a bespecticled woman with a large notebook layed out in front of her informed me that they were indeed dispencing coffee. Although no cup of coffee (IMO) is worth the small fortune they charged me, I was content, none-the-less. I never have Starbucks. The day was definately starting out strangely.
The question of where to hike was easily answered. I'm an Ohioan. This was the state that had birthed ultralight backpacking legend Emma Gatewood. At Hocking Hills State Park in Ohio, the North Country Trail, Buckeye Trail, and the American Discovery Trail coincide and a six-mile section is designated as the Grandma Gatewood Trail. It connects Old Man's Cave to Cedar Falls to Ash Cave, and is about an hour from my house. My goal, on the longest day hike of my life (so far), was to hike the six miles down and back. I figured, hike two miles and hour, three hours in the morning, eat lunch at Ash Cave, and hike three hours back. Sounded easy enough---as if I had forgotten the extra weight on my back.
Chilliocthe, Ohio is a unique place. It sits in the middle of the Scioto River valley, in south central Ohio, at the exact spot where the Appalchian Foothills end. The earthen mound complexes that dot the area attest to the presence of humans living here in numbers for thousands of years. To the northeast, seemingly endless plains for crops, and to the southeast, great forested hills teaming with wildlife. It's no wonder people have always wanted to live here.
My drive this morning took me along the very edge of the last Appalachian Foothills, literally, with the plains to my left and the hills to my right. The fields were covered with delicate layers of mist. I very much enjoyed the drive.
28470
I arrived at the Old Man's Cave Visitor and Information Center, nestled in the Hocking Hills, around 0730. Two compact cars were the only evidence of other vistors. That would change quickly, as it was Saturday, and the day hikers would be overrunning this place soon. I parked in the very first slot nearest the trail. I repacked my lunch, and stood by my truck enjoying the dazzling sunshine, finishing my Sartbucks. It was going to be a beautiful day!
A wirey-looking middle aged man walked by, heading for his car. He carried a long-lensed camera and a tall tripod---and a disappointed look. I commented about the recent lack of rain, and he informed me that not a drop flowed over any of the numerous falls in the Gorge. He noticed my big pack and asked me what I was about. I confessed to finding myself at the beginning stage of preparation for a thru-hike of the AT next year, and he spent several minutes listing his impressive long distance hikes---alphabetically, I think---some of which I had never heard. He looked the part, though, and seemed abashed to admit he had never thru-hiked the AT. He grabbed a small pack from his car and marched toward the Rim Trail, that circles the Gorge. I bid him a fine day, and suggested we might meet on the taril. Nice fellow. I never saw him again.
Boyant with enthusiasm, I extended my trekking poles to the prescibed length, shouldered and adjusted my pack, and off I went. I made it twenty paces before I shortened my poles. That was better! I spent about half of this hike adjusting my pack, until I finally tuned it in. Learn by doing. I hopped onto the trail at the visitor center, taking the steps down into the Gorge, and the cool shadows that lingered there. I worked my poles, trying to get used to holding two, instead of the standard single walking sticks of my youth. They were easy to manipulate as I walked, and I would come to love them.
The Old Man's Cave Gorge was formed by the unimaginable floods that followed the melting of the Wisconsin Glacier---which stopped it's advance scant miles from here, about ten thousand years ago. The layered sandstone was deposited as runoff from the last great upheaval of the Appalachian Mountains some 330 million years earlier. As the water carved out the softer layers of stone, the harder layers remained, forming cliffs and caves, and creating a cool reclusive gorge with it's own ecosystem. It is one of those places where you want to stop and take a picture every few steps. And I did just that. No wonder Emma liked this place so much.
28471
I walked comfortably in my synthetic shorts and tee shirt, striding along happily in my Keen Targhee II's, that felt like cushy house slippers. Inside my boots was a secret weapon against blisters---Injinji toe socks! I wore light Injinji liners with a medium weight synthetic crew. I would finish this hike with sore but happy feet. Not even a hot spot. The toe socks worked perfectly. I will have to thank the man who suggested them. The old Cincinnati Reds hat that I wore became a point of contention on my hike. I'm not even a Reds fan, really. I like the hat because it fits my big head nicely. I bet I walked by a dozen people who cried, "Go Reds!" as I passed. People are funny!
The Grandma Gatewood Trail meandered along the bottom of the Gorge, ever downstream. It snaked across the stream bed and up onto the Gorge walls, in it's own version of PUDs. There were bog bridges and roots and rock scrambles and tunnels. Quite the little workout for a muscle group little used. I could feel the burn.
28472 28474 28473
28475 28476 28477 28478
At times, the trail would level out over a tree-lined flat, pass beneath towering cliffs, only to shoot up the wall onto a ledge and back dwon again. This is indeed a unique place. The photographer was right. I passed Cedar Falls...dry as a bone.
28479
I was getting into the hike at this point. I was half way to lunch at Ash Cave, and feeling pretty good. I knew I was going to hurt tomorrow, but I had no pains where pains should not be. I climbed out of the Gorge at Cedar Falls, and made my way across the parking area on the rim. More vacationers were about, so I hiked on across the road and into the forest---following the blue blazes---where the trail smoothed out into a gentle stroll. I stopped in the shade of huge antient hemlocks to eat my morning snack.
28480
And on I walked. Off the bike trail, and back into the deep woods. I was crossing the hills at this point, heading over to Ash Cave. I walked past a fire tower, with people climbing all over it. Up here, the Autumn colors were beginning to show.
28481 28482
The trail sloaped more gently this time, down into another hollow, where I popped out of the trees at the back of wonderous Ash Cave. Wow!
28483 28484
Lots of people were out now, wandering along the trail and into the Cave, their voices echoing easily in the perfect acoustics. You can hear a whisper from a hundred feet down here. I stopped a couple hundred feet past the Cave, where I found a nice spot to fix my lunch. And for the next half hour, as hundreds of people of all ages and ethnicity wandered past, I was the trail side attraction. I said "Good Morning" to all who passed, acknowledging everyone. A middle aged man with a middle eastern accent walked by quickly, and threw the question at me as if in passing. "What are you doing?", he asked. "Making lunch! Want some?" He laughed and moved on. A short time later, a giddy octogenarian lady with her whole family hobbled by. When she was almost past my makeshift camp, she stopped and turned to me. "You are forcing me to ask you," she said, too loud. "What on Earth are you doing?" My smile was huge. Her years hung on her like a stately robe. "Well, ma'am, I'm making Mac & Cheese." Her laughter was sharp but amused, and then she was gone. Those were the only two who asked me.
28485
I felt a little full after lunch, having consumed most all of my food. I another Snickers and another Cliff bar if I got hungry on the way back to Old Man's Cave. My legs were a little stiff after resting, but there was only one way home for me. Back the way I'd come. So I cleaned up my camp (LNT), hefted my pack, and started to walk away. I remembered something. "Check before you leave!" I had read somewhere of a technique to keep from losing stuff while you hike. After you've rested and repacked, either along the trail or at camp, heft your pack, walk ten paces away and then come back to see if you've forgotten anything. I had been practicing this method today. Already, at this point, I could tell it was becoming ingrained into my "style". I felt uncomfortable walking way without coming back to check my site for items or dropped trash. I hadn't left anything yet, and I didn't find anything this time. Best to be safe.
The full feeling subsided as I walked, and I derived a great deal of afternoon energy from the pasta for lunch. I had heard other long distance hikers claiming that they were able to hike better later in the day if they stopped to cook a carb-filled lunch. I powered through most of my way back because of this, and I felt great. My untrained legs were burning and achy, but I had a good supply of energy. I was going to make it!
Back up the slope, and once again past the fire tower, covered with more people, so no pictures from the top---dangit! It was warmer in the afternoon, so just past a road crossing, still several miles form Cedar Falls, I took a short break to drink and rest. I walked around a bit, stretching my tired muscles. A few people hiked by, smiling the smiles of endorphinism. Then came the thru-hikers. I could peg them from afar, coming up the hill. Both carried larger packs like mine. The short man in front was maybe thirty, wiry, with a full luxurious red beard, followed by a tall late teen blond man, skinny as a rail. They looked significantly "duller" in appearance than the day hikers---myself included. Their packs were dirty, their shoed were dustly, and they walked like they were on a mission. The Buckeye Trail (designated by the Blue Blazes) takes about ninety days to trek. I stepped aside to let them pass. Without a word, the bearded man stopped directly in front of me, extended his hand---which I grasped firmly---and walked on. A nod of acknowledgement bobbed his head. I suspected they were trying to move quickly, deep in their "zone", so I did not bother them. I watch them until they were out of my sight.
Twenty minutes down the trail, my heart sank when I found the bundled air pad. It sat right against a tree, in it's compact stuff sack, grey and red, with "AIR CORE" printed on one end. It exactly matched the color scheme of the young blond man from earlier. A stood frozen in the trail, staring at the rolled up pad. My first reaction was to curse him for not checking his location before leaving. He had obviously unpacked some stuff, perhaps setting the pad behind his pack, and missed it when he left. He'll not be getting a good night's rest for a while. I knew I didn't have it in me. It was two miles back to Ash Cave, and there was no way I could catch up with them. They were to fast, and I was too noob. A sense of shame flooded me. I wanted to grab the pad and stride back down the trail, triumphantly over take them, hero of the day. But that man wasn't standing there. It was just me, and I knew making it back to the truck with some life left in me was going to be an accomplishment. So, wishing I could do more, I placed the pad right next to the trail, easily visable, and hurried along my way. I hiked my fastest yet, until a short time later, I found what I needed. A SOBO. She was a middle aged woman with a man and two teens tagging along. I asked here if she was enroute to Ash Cave---which she confirmed---and if she would grab the pad up the trail and take it to Ash Cave with her. She was nice enough to agree, so I gave her the discription of the two men. I suggested that if she could not find them, to leave the pad on a picnic table in plain view, so they could spot it if they came back looking.
And that was the best I could do.
When I got back to Cedar Falls, I took the Rim Trail back towards Old Man's Cave. The Rim Trail passes along the edge of the Gorge, is smoother, and a bit longer than the Granny G. My legs were fading, so I knew this was a good choice. The trail and trees changed very little for the last four miles from Cedar Falls. The highlight was a walk past Rose Lake, decorated with the newest colors of Fall.
28486
When I got back to the parking lot in mid afternoon, it was overflowing with cars and people. A long line of cars snaked around the lot, their drivers looking for somewhere to stick their cars and SUVs. Some had risked it all by parking in the grass beside the road, in an Ohio State Park. I suspected that the Parks Department revenue was about to skyrocket. I was thankfully parked in the closest, most coveted spot on the lot, right next to the Visitor Center. The lucky folks today turned out to be the ones sitting in the black Ford Escape, stuck in the long slow line of traffic, right next to my truck. I made eye contact with the driver. He looked miserable. "You're a lucky man!" I exclaimed. "If you hold right there for two minutes, you can have that beautiful parking spot right there!" I pointed with my poles. "You're kidding!" he said. "Not at all!" "Really?" "Yes!" "Thanks man!" I waved, tossed my things in the back seat and motored off.
Certainly, it had been a great day! Twelve plus miles on my longest day hike ever, and a successful shakedown---as far as weight and utility is concerned. I still need to shake down my sleep system, but everything else seems to be working well.
Lessons Learned...
1) Trekking poles rule! I have good upper body strength and was happy to be able to apply that to my locamotion (especially toward the end of my hike) instead of just carrying the extra weight around.
2) I'm going to be very sore at first. Contrary to my first presumption, I'm going to need to get this new muscle set in some form of shape before March.
3) I have found my training hike for the AT. I'm going to hit it once a week with my full pack. Granny G would be proud!
4) I need to improve my technique for cooking FBC pasta. It keeps turning out rather chewy. Not ineatable, just chewy.
Thank you for reading.
Danger
Having finally rounded up all my gear, I was very much ready to shake this thing down. So I told my wife I was going hiking for the day. She said, "I know." I only scratched my chin a little at her tone, then grabbed my new Granite Gear Blaze AC 60 back pack and started stuffing my gear inside. Halfway through, I pulled it all back out and carefully selected the order in which things might be needed. Bag and pad on the bottom. Extra clothes. Tent and ground sheet. Then pack cover and rain gear. Food and water treatment. Topped off with my foam seat pad. Platypus in the outside sleeve. Extra stuff on side pockets. Around twenty-five pounds fully loaded. Less than I had expected. Nice! I wasn't going to need any of this on the trail today, but my goal was to carry virually everything I would be lugging on the AT. I wanted to see what it would be like.
I got up early Saturday morning. It was still dark outside, and cool. The crickets laughed at me as I tossed my pack and poles into my trusty truck, growling at my lack of coffee. I had forgotten to pick up some at the store the previous day. We firefighters virtually live on coffee, an addiction I will have to fundamentally address on the AT. For today, I would let the Trail decide my fortune. The Trail does not start when you hit the woods. It begins at your front door.
The sky in the east was just changing hue when I stopped at Krogers for supplies. I got a box of Shells & cheese, some bacon bits, two Cliff Bars, and two Snikers for less than seven dollars. On the way out, I approached the Starbucks stand (yea, I knew it was there), where a bespecticled woman with a large notebook layed out in front of her informed me that they were indeed dispencing coffee. Although no cup of coffee (IMO) is worth the small fortune they charged me, I was content, none-the-less. I never have Starbucks. The day was definately starting out strangely.
The question of where to hike was easily answered. I'm an Ohioan. This was the state that had birthed ultralight backpacking legend Emma Gatewood. At Hocking Hills State Park in Ohio, the North Country Trail, Buckeye Trail, and the American Discovery Trail coincide and a six-mile section is designated as the Grandma Gatewood Trail. It connects Old Man's Cave to Cedar Falls to Ash Cave, and is about an hour from my house. My goal, on the longest day hike of my life (so far), was to hike the six miles down and back. I figured, hike two miles and hour, three hours in the morning, eat lunch at Ash Cave, and hike three hours back. Sounded easy enough---as if I had forgotten the extra weight on my back.
Chilliocthe, Ohio is a unique place. It sits in the middle of the Scioto River valley, in south central Ohio, at the exact spot where the Appalchian Foothills end. The earthen mound complexes that dot the area attest to the presence of humans living here in numbers for thousands of years. To the northeast, seemingly endless plains for crops, and to the southeast, great forested hills teaming with wildlife. It's no wonder people have always wanted to live here.
My drive this morning took me along the very edge of the last Appalachian Foothills, literally, with the plains to my left and the hills to my right. The fields were covered with delicate layers of mist. I very much enjoyed the drive.
28470
I arrived at the Old Man's Cave Visitor and Information Center, nestled in the Hocking Hills, around 0730. Two compact cars were the only evidence of other vistors. That would change quickly, as it was Saturday, and the day hikers would be overrunning this place soon. I parked in the very first slot nearest the trail. I repacked my lunch, and stood by my truck enjoying the dazzling sunshine, finishing my Sartbucks. It was going to be a beautiful day!
A wirey-looking middle aged man walked by, heading for his car. He carried a long-lensed camera and a tall tripod---and a disappointed look. I commented about the recent lack of rain, and he informed me that not a drop flowed over any of the numerous falls in the Gorge. He noticed my big pack and asked me what I was about. I confessed to finding myself at the beginning stage of preparation for a thru-hike of the AT next year, and he spent several minutes listing his impressive long distance hikes---alphabetically, I think---some of which I had never heard. He looked the part, though, and seemed abashed to admit he had never thru-hiked the AT. He grabbed a small pack from his car and marched toward the Rim Trail, that circles the Gorge. I bid him a fine day, and suggested we might meet on the taril. Nice fellow. I never saw him again.
Boyant with enthusiasm, I extended my trekking poles to the prescibed length, shouldered and adjusted my pack, and off I went. I made it twenty paces before I shortened my poles. That was better! I spent about half of this hike adjusting my pack, until I finally tuned it in. Learn by doing. I hopped onto the trail at the visitor center, taking the steps down into the Gorge, and the cool shadows that lingered there. I worked my poles, trying to get used to holding two, instead of the standard single walking sticks of my youth. They were easy to manipulate as I walked, and I would come to love them.
The Old Man's Cave Gorge was formed by the unimaginable floods that followed the melting of the Wisconsin Glacier---which stopped it's advance scant miles from here, about ten thousand years ago. The layered sandstone was deposited as runoff from the last great upheaval of the Appalachian Mountains some 330 million years earlier. As the water carved out the softer layers of stone, the harder layers remained, forming cliffs and caves, and creating a cool reclusive gorge with it's own ecosystem. It is one of those places where you want to stop and take a picture every few steps. And I did just that. No wonder Emma liked this place so much.
28471
I walked comfortably in my synthetic shorts and tee shirt, striding along happily in my Keen Targhee II's, that felt like cushy house slippers. Inside my boots was a secret weapon against blisters---Injinji toe socks! I wore light Injinji liners with a medium weight synthetic crew. I would finish this hike with sore but happy feet. Not even a hot spot. The toe socks worked perfectly. I will have to thank the man who suggested them. The old Cincinnati Reds hat that I wore became a point of contention on my hike. I'm not even a Reds fan, really. I like the hat because it fits my big head nicely. I bet I walked by a dozen people who cried, "Go Reds!" as I passed. People are funny!
The Grandma Gatewood Trail meandered along the bottom of the Gorge, ever downstream. It snaked across the stream bed and up onto the Gorge walls, in it's own version of PUDs. There were bog bridges and roots and rock scrambles and tunnels. Quite the little workout for a muscle group little used. I could feel the burn.
28472 28474 28473
28475 28476 28477 28478
At times, the trail would level out over a tree-lined flat, pass beneath towering cliffs, only to shoot up the wall onto a ledge and back dwon again. This is indeed a unique place. The photographer was right. I passed Cedar Falls...dry as a bone.
28479
I was getting into the hike at this point. I was half way to lunch at Ash Cave, and feeling pretty good. I knew I was going to hurt tomorrow, but I had no pains where pains should not be. I climbed out of the Gorge at Cedar Falls, and made my way across the parking area on the rim. More vacationers were about, so I hiked on across the road and into the forest---following the blue blazes---where the trail smoothed out into a gentle stroll. I stopped in the shade of huge antient hemlocks to eat my morning snack.
28480
And on I walked. Off the bike trail, and back into the deep woods. I was crossing the hills at this point, heading over to Ash Cave. I walked past a fire tower, with people climbing all over it. Up here, the Autumn colors were beginning to show.
28481 28482
The trail sloaped more gently this time, down into another hollow, where I popped out of the trees at the back of wonderous Ash Cave. Wow!
28483 28484
Lots of people were out now, wandering along the trail and into the Cave, their voices echoing easily in the perfect acoustics. You can hear a whisper from a hundred feet down here. I stopped a couple hundred feet past the Cave, where I found a nice spot to fix my lunch. And for the next half hour, as hundreds of people of all ages and ethnicity wandered past, I was the trail side attraction. I said "Good Morning" to all who passed, acknowledging everyone. A middle aged man with a middle eastern accent walked by quickly, and threw the question at me as if in passing. "What are you doing?", he asked. "Making lunch! Want some?" He laughed and moved on. A short time later, a giddy octogenarian lady with her whole family hobbled by. When she was almost past my makeshift camp, she stopped and turned to me. "You are forcing me to ask you," she said, too loud. "What on Earth are you doing?" My smile was huge. Her years hung on her like a stately robe. "Well, ma'am, I'm making Mac & Cheese." Her laughter was sharp but amused, and then she was gone. Those were the only two who asked me.
28485
I felt a little full after lunch, having consumed most all of my food. I another Snickers and another Cliff bar if I got hungry on the way back to Old Man's Cave. My legs were a little stiff after resting, but there was only one way home for me. Back the way I'd come. So I cleaned up my camp (LNT), hefted my pack, and started to walk away. I remembered something. "Check before you leave!" I had read somewhere of a technique to keep from losing stuff while you hike. After you've rested and repacked, either along the trail or at camp, heft your pack, walk ten paces away and then come back to see if you've forgotten anything. I had been practicing this method today. Already, at this point, I could tell it was becoming ingrained into my "style". I felt uncomfortable walking way without coming back to check my site for items or dropped trash. I hadn't left anything yet, and I didn't find anything this time. Best to be safe.
The full feeling subsided as I walked, and I derived a great deal of afternoon energy from the pasta for lunch. I had heard other long distance hikers claiming that they were able to hike better later in the day if they stopped to cook a carb-filled lunch. I powered through most of my way back because of this, and I felt great. My untrained legs were burning and achy, but I had a good supply of energy. I was going to make it!
Back up the slope, and once again past the fire tower, covered with more people, so no pictures from the top---dangit! It was warmer in the afternoon, so just past a road crossing, still several miles form Cedar Falls, I took a short break to drink and rest. I walked around a bit, stretching my tired muscles. A few people hiked by, smiling the smiles of endorphinism. Then came the thru-hikers. I could peg them from afar, coming up the hill. Both carried larger packs like mine. The short man in front was maybe thirty, wiry, with a full luxurious red beard, followed by a tall late teen blond man, skinny as a rail. They looked significantly "duller" in appearance than the day hikers---myself included. Their packs were dirty, their shoed were dustly, and they walked like they were on a mission. The Buckeye Trail (designated by the Blue Blazes) takes about ninety days to trek. I stepped aside to let them pass. Without a word, the bearded man stopped directly in front of me, extended his hand---which I grasped firmly---and walked on. A nod of acknowledgement bobbed his head. I suspected they were trying to move quickly, deep in their "zone", so I did not bother them. I watch them until they were out of my sight.
Twenty minutes down the trail, my heart sank when I found the bundled air pad. It sat right against a tree, in it's compact stuff sack, grey and red, with "AIR CORE" printed on one end. It exactly matched the color scheme of the young blond man from earlier. A stood frozen in the trail, staring at the rolled up pad. My first reaction was to curse him for not checking his location before leaving. He had obviously unpacked some stuff, perhaps setting the pad behind his pack, and missed it when he left. He'll not be getting a good night's rest for a while. I knew I didn't have it in me. It was two miles back to Ash Cave, and there was no way I could catch up with them. They were to fast, and I was too noob. A sense of shame flooded me. I wanted to grab the pad and stride back down the trail, triumphantly over take them, hero of the day. But that man wasn't standing there. It was just me, and I knew making it back to the truck with some life left in me was going to be an accomplishment. So, wishing I could do more, I placed the pad right next to the trail, easily visable, and hurried along my way. I hiked my fastest yet, until a short time later, I found what I needed. A SOBO. She was a middle aged woman with a man and two teens tagging along. I asked here if she was enroute to Ash Cave---which she confirmed---and if she would grab the pad up the trail and take it to Ash Cave with her. She was nice enough to agree, so I gave her the discription of the two men. I suggested that if she could not find them, to leave the pad on a picnic table in plain view, so they could spot it if they came back looking.
And that was the best I could do.
When I got back to Cedar Falls, I took the Rim Trail back towards Old Man's Cave. The Rim Trail passes along the edge of the Gorge, is smoother, and a bit longer than the Granny G. My legs were fading, so I knew this was a good choice. The trail and trees changed very little for the last four miles from Cedar Falls. The highlight was a walk past Rose Lake, decorated with the newest colors of Fall.
28486
When I got back to the parking lot in mid afternoon, it was overflowing with cars and people. A long line of cars snaked around the lot, their drivers looking for somewhere to stick their cars and SUVs. Some had risked it all by parking in the grass beside the road, in an Ohio State Park. I suspected that the Parks Department revenue was about to skyrocket. I was thankfully parked in the closest, most coveted spot on the lot, right next to the Visitor Center. The lucky folks today turned out to be the ones sitting in the black Ford Escape, stuck in the long slow line of traffic, right next to my truck. I made eye contact with the driver. He looked miserable. "You're a lucky man!" I exclaimed. "If you hold right there for two minutes, you can have that beautiful parking spot right there!" I pointed with my poles. "You're kidding!" he said. "Not at all!" "Really?" "Yes!" "Thanks man!" I waved, tossed my things in the back seat and motored off.
Certainly, it had been a great day! Twelve plus miles on my longest day hike ever, and a successful shakedown---as far as weight and utility is concerned. I still need to shake down my sleep system, but everything else seems to be working well.
Lessons Learned...
1) Trekking poles rule! I have good upper body strength and was happy to be able to apply that to my locamotion (especially toward the end of my hike) instead of just carrying the extra weight around.
2) I'm going to be very sore at first. Contrary to my first presumption, I'm going to need to get this new muscle set in some form of shape before March.
3) I have found my training hike for the AT. I'm going to hit it once a week with my full pack. Granny G would be proud!
4) I need to improve my technique for cooking FBC pasta. It keeps turning out rather chewy. Not ineatable, just chewy.
Thank you for reading.
Danger