Tag: camping

Backpacking – Cumberland Island Part 3

Upon climbing into our sleeping bags, we had a good long talk about Scouting and it’s history in our family. It seemed a fitting topic since we likely wouldn’t be out backpacking except for the peppering of Scouting throughout our family history. We talked about how my dad and uncles were involved at different parts of their lives. We talked about my brothers’ mixed experiences. We talked about how Mr. Wells was going to give Brandon hell for leaving our water behind. We even got into a discussion about why Alex didn’t start Cub Scouts until 3rd grade. I shared how young avid-reader Alex had picked up one of Pawpaw’s adult Scouter magazines and read an article about the importance of taking scouts winter camping so they could conquer the difficulties of such an experience. Alex’s takeaway was that he didn’t want to “build his character”. In light of our current frigid December experience, this story was extra funny.

We then reminisced about all our adventures through Brandon’s scouting–first as a sibling then as an official Scout. In talking about camping and the funny (in hindsight) things that went sideways on each campout, we remarked how Mr. Gelder always helped us while also good-naturedly giving us grief. It made us a little sad, as Mr. Gelder left this planet too soon. Yet, we also had quite the laugh about what he’d have to say about our misadventures this time. We then got hysterical thinking that he might be up there in Heaven watching this play out like a TV show…or maybe he got God to send us this crazy weather. The laughter was exactly what we needed to warm us up just a little bit to settle into our sleeping bags for the night.

I knew camping this time of year would be colder than I wanted. Of course, that’s when I expected upper 40s and certainly not the 33 degrees we got that night. I had a 30-50 degree bag, but I obviously needed something better. I had prepared (or so I thought) for this and had gone on many long night walks leading up to our trip, often in the low 40s. On those walks I would unbundle myself, as the walking warmed me up. What I should have done to prepare was to sleep outside at home or at least lay still outside for awhile in the cold. That’s a whole different beast. That last night on Cumberland Island felt like the longest night of my life. Sleep didn’t last for long periods and was fitful. Deep in my bag wasn’t too cold and I even had a ski mask on, but the cold hitting my tiny bit of exposed face sent chills down my body. We both found ourselves moaning and groaning as we would wake up and try to get warm. Brandon put on my extra pants (that I thought I left at home), I had all my clothes (extra socks, underwear, shirts…everything) on, and we had several “hot hands” activated in our pockets and bags. I prayed for God to let that be the very moment that menopause would come to me so I could have one of those hot flashes I hear women complain about. That didn’t happen, so we alternated between sleep and watching the time tick by as the moon moved across our tent. It was our night of character building.

Once the sun came up, we climbed out of the tent. Actually, I crawled out of the tent and used the tree next to us to pull up. My old MCL/ACL injuries had come back to life overnight. There wasn’t time to focus on this though, because it was COLD. We jumped into action with water cooking and oatmeal. Brandon’s method of making it in the packet was brilliant, because it warmed our hands while we warmed our tummies.

As soon as we finished eating, we worked together to take down camp and pack our bags. Then we were back on the trail for our final day. We took the Willow Pond Trail again (the only trail we duplicated) and trekked through the swamp. It was still beautiful, but it was harder to enjoy because it was quite challenging with our backpacks on. The boardwalk felt more like a precarious tightrope as we navigated through the low hanging tree branches. 

We ended at the main road again, but this time went south. The road had the benefit of being wider and taller, so no branch or downed tree maneuvering was required. But it was a little uneven, there was gravel mixed in with the sand (thus somewhat tougher to walk on), and there was the occasional car that would come by so you’d have to move over into the brush. It definitely felt like the tour road in Jurassic Park, so we stayed vigilant for any dinosaurs that might show up and entertained ourselves humming the JP theme and recounting the JP and JW movie storylines. While we didn’t see big creatures, we did see some big trees that dwarfed even my tall son!

Our travels took us past the Heron Pond, and not a single bird was in sight on this bitterly cold morning. We went past several private homes that still exist on the island, before having a break at the Stafford Cemetery. It was tucked away in the maritime forest and surrounded by tabby walls. You see lots of tabby (a mixture of sand, shells, and lime) on the buildings on Cumberland. Most of the graves were indecipherable, but we could make out most of the writing on Robert Stafford’s grave, born & died on Cumberland Island in the 1800s. It was cool to know that there is still part of the Stafford family living on the island today. As we came out of the cemetery, we spotted something that made me sad–bamboo was growing across the road. That stuff (while pretty) is an invasive abomination. It led to a lively environmental discussion that helped get us a little further down the road…

Shortly thereafter, the landscape made several rapid changes. We came up a big, flat, open field with an airplane on it (so obviously a landing strip). Then the field became more like a retired farmland, with little mounds in the landscape, a scattering of brush, and prairie grass. It’s there that we came upon a horse of a different color, as all other horses we spotted were black or brown. And then we were suddenly back in the live oaks, this time with a natural archway to walk under.

Pretty soon, we came to Stafford Beach Road. We paused a moment and considered going back to hopefully recover the lost water bottle. It would be a mile and a half round trip. There was not much hope it would still be there (as signs posted said anything left behind was cleared out at night). And we were starting to physically drag. As we stood at the literal crossroad, we noticed the most unusual plant thus far. It looked like a house plant or maybe a hosta, and definitely didn’t look like something that would grow naturally out in this wilderness. It looked so out of place and was the only one of its kind. These are the quirky little things you would never notice unless you were out in the wilderness on foot. We decided against the side journey and kept heading south. 

After what seemed like forever, we saw the beginning of Pratts Trail. It then dawned on us that we still had two miles to go. I started having that defeated feeling again and our pace got slower and slower. Finally we had a rare treat on this main road: a nice big log on the side of the road. We pulled off our packs and sat for a long snack and water break. I didn’t want to leave and started wondering if one of the occasional vehicles would just take us down the road. But we persevered. We got back to walking and started encountering bikers who’d just gotten off the morning’s boat. We must have looked done for, because several folks yelled out that we were almost there. (Almost…if we were on bike, Brandon mumbled.) I went from lead hiker to next to Brandon to falling behind. I was starting to walk at a snail’s pace. I was wishing for another log but there was nothing but dense forest. And then suddenly we came across a glorious sign pointing to Sea Camp Dock. There was a light at the end of the tunnel.

We got to the Dock area and were promptly blasted by strong winds. We enjoyed the luxury of clean water and bathrooms and then had lunch at one of the picnic tables for our coldest & windiest meal yet. The downtime had rested our bodies a little bit, and it was clear that we didn’t want to stay in that spot for hours (it was just barely noon!), so we left our packs and headed to the south end of the island.

We took the River Trail down to the Dungeness Dock and explored the Ice House museum. Then we walked down the Dungeness trail to see the “main attraction” of Cumberland: the Dungeness Ruins. It was kind of funny that we saw this last, as day visitors often just see this (and then the beach). After seeing Plum Orchard, in all its restored glory, this fell a little short. It was still amazing to see what was once a majestic road up to the mansion. Although most of the mansion was destroyed by fire (and then the elements), it was still cool to see the bones of the structure. (My previous recollection was that you couldn’t get close to the mansion as it was covered by tangles of thick brush, but maybe I made that up in my mind?) We strolled around the historic houses surrounding it, saw the remnants of their magnificent gardens, and marveled at the mostly destroyed structure that was the recreation building. Oddly enough, you can still find bits of glass from the squash court and pieces of porcelain from the heated indoor pool It’s like little pieces of history just lying in the sand and marking a time gone by.

With the wind whipping us nonstop (and keeping us from being warmed by the sun), we decided to head back down the River Trail to our dock. The trail was quite pretty, as you could see out to the St Marys River a little, but there was just enough tree cover to block much of the wind. Being a touristy area/trail, there were benches every so often so we stopped at nearly every one and took in the nature around us one last time. We watched as hundreds (?) of birds flew overhead and landed in the tree above us, chirping and swaying in the windy branches before all taking off. We got still enough at one bench for an armadillo to come right toward us, jumping and scurrying away once he finally smelled us (I’m guessing). And we watched some horses come through the trees and cross the trail near us as we sat at our last stop. We marveled that we had walked our longest day yet–9 miles. These moments together in nature was what this trip was all about. The nights were bad, we were cold, our stomachs were frequently rumbling with hunger, we weren’t drinking enough water, every bone & joint hurt…yet all that mattered and all that stuck were these magical moments together.

We got back to our dock in time for water, restrooms, and a nature talk with the park service ranger. We discovered that there were more animals than we saw on this cold trip. In addition to the feral hogs we didn’t see, there are deer, alligators, bobcats (including one with a long tail that everyone thinks is a panther), and coyotes. Funny enough, it was a little bittersweet when it was time to board the ferry. The typically still water was super choppy, so I put on my motion sickness bands, took some Dramamine, and sat outside on the boat despite the cold. That last stretch of discomfort was blessed as we watched the sun get low, the marsh light up with the last of daylight, some dolphin frolic ahead of the boat, and then sunset. We looked at each other in disbelief that we had completed three days backpacking and walked 23 miles together. As the sun set on our adventure, I asked the question I was sure I wouldn’t ever ask…”When should we backpack again?”

Backpacking – Cumberland Island Part 2

I’m not gonna lie, our first morning waking up in camp was rough. The fitful bouts of sleep had not been restorative in the slightest. I didn’t want to lay in the tent a moment longer, but I didn’t want to move either. I spent more time than I should have, just laying there being grumpy. I was irritated that the forecast had changed on us. I was annoyed that my bones hurt. Every blast of wind through the well-ventilated tent made me frustrated that we were using an “all season” tent (which I then discovered means all seasons but cold). I was defeated by the mere thought of having to go start the day using the bathroom in the forest. When I finally forced myself up and out, I again became sad that we couldn’t make a campfire and angry that there was so much tree canopy that we couldn’t get the sun. 

While we didn’t speak our feelings much in that moment, Brandon’s face told me he felt similarly. That actually made it slightly better…at least I wasn’t alone in my suffering! We had the same campsite for another night, so we didn’t have to break camp. However, we knew that movement and a change of scenery was the only thing that would help our demeanor. So, I got busy packing up day packs and he got busy making us oatmeal. We had breakfast sitting on our little camp log, and discovered some fragile little mushrooms growing out of one end of the log. That sight made us both laugh about our mushroom adventure and broke the angst we were holding on to. We cleaned up and heading out on a new trail.

We headed west on the Willow Pond trail and quickly came to an enchanting boardwalk over swamps and under many low-hanging branches covered in moss. It was freeing just to wander without the backpacks on and it was nice to warm up some from the sheer act of moving. Our only firm plan for the day was to head to Plum Orchard. My brother Christian told me we should take the tour there, so we were heeding his advice. Brandon wasn’t terribly excited about touring a mansion, but was happy to go along. We knew the beach was too windy, we weren’t sure of how much hiking we could accomplish, and we knew staying around camp wasn’t a good option. On the plus side, we knew Plum Orchard would have real restrooms, potable water, and (hopefully) a little bit of sun.

Our trail ended into the service road, which we promptly decided was the Jurassic Park tour road. It was still beautiful and lush, but with such a wide clearance that it felt a little more mundane than the trails. Just as we thought it was predictable terrain, we turned a corner and crossed over White Branch. This looked like more than just a branch or even a creek in my estimation; it looked more like a small river. It was also interesting how different it was on the two sides of the road. On the east, it seemed still and brackish with moss-covered trees leaning over and into the water. On the west, it seemed to be moving with clearer water and was open and sunny. Although the sun was finally shining on our faces, the open wind countered any sort of warming effect the sun had. So on we went towards our destination.

Soon we turned onto Table Point Road, which was a shell road leading alongside the Brickhill River and up to the beautiful grounds surrounding the Plum Orchard Mansion. It was so bizarre to see this big, ornate mansion in the middle of this wild, natural island. We took in the view and watched some horses go by before getting to the important business of water and restrooms.

Ready for more walking, lol, we set out on the tour with the park service volunteers. The first piece of information was quite disappointing–there are no plums to be found. No one knows why it was called Plum Orchard as there’s no evidence of ever having an orchard, much less plums. Apparently it was named that from the earliest land maps and so the name stuck. I’m bad at recalling details (even when I’m fascinated in the moment), so you should at least read the basics on the NPS site. Basically, we learned a lot about early feminism (as I see it) through stories of the formidable Lucy Carnegie. She enforced her will but was also giving, yet made sure you remembered who buttered your toast (like with her pictures up in the homes she gave to the favorites of her children).

The Carnegies obviously liked to flaunt their wealth in every facet of this mansion. The original burlap wallpaper is still there, with the stamped Gryphon as their symbol of power (yet not a true coat-of-arms…simply a crest they chose and placed on many of their items). The hand-painted linen ceiling tiles are incomprehensibly intricate. The Tiffany lamps are surprisingly bright and beautiful. They flaunted the ability to have indoor plumbing by having all the pipes exposed and displayed. The bathroom even had a special device that would mix your shampoo and water together so you wouldn’t have to make the extra effort. Original menus showed that there was always a cold menu item, to show the wealth in having refrigeration. They had their own bell stamped and inserted into the home to signify the start of fancy parties and exquisite meals. They had an indoor squash court and a huge impractical indoor pool that had to be drained and cleaned by hand frequently. It’s mind-boggling to think how things like indoor plumbing were a luxury while also funny to think about how things we take for granted were once flaunted as a status symbol. It’s downright crazy to think about how much money was spent on some of the most opulent luxuries. As you might say, “they spared no expense.”

One uncomfortable, but interesting, part of the tour was discovering the systems in place for servants (slaves at one point, then as indentured servants, then as paid labor). I couldn’t believe it when we saw that the front section of the house was for family life and entertaining, while the back section (across the entire house) was an elaborate way to keep servants accessible but hidden. There were multiple series of hallways and rooms with hidden doors into much of the house. The secret entrances extended under the house and there was even an elevator (run by water) so no servant would be seen on the grand staircases. Even more bizarre, the side of the house for servants was built differently: bland paint instead of wallpaper, raw wood around the doors instead of ornately carved wood on the other side, and even different doorknobs on each side of the same door. Everything was set to make it clear which side everyone belonged on. The expectation of being waited on in all ways at all hours is so inconceivable. They developed an inter-island phone line so items or services could be called to any of the mansions at a moments notice. They created an intercom of sorts that was staffed 24 hours in case the family suddenly wanted something. Even a French pastry chef was on call in case someone “needed” a macaron at some random time of day. The picture this painted in my mind was a stark reality compared to the world I know. I was so surprised by this way of life, that I didn’t even take pictures of half of what I’m describing. I’m not here to judge how people were in a different era; I just can’t fathom a life like that.

Suffice it to say, this tour was way more interesting that either of us expected. It gave us a lot to think about and discuss for the rest of the day. We got pictures of several Carnegie recipes and meal plans, so we talked about what we would make at a later date. (Brandon owes me some Icebox Cookies.) After the tour, we sought out a sunny spot to have a picnic lunch. We found such a spot, but the wind beat down on us as we wolfed down some delicious bagel sandwiches. After eating, we quickly gave up the spot and looked for somewhere sunny yet protected from the wind. We found our place right on the front steps of the mansion. The Carnegies would’ve been aghast as we pulled off our shoes to stretch ourselves out right there on the steps. Never has concrete been so comfortable. We talked about hiking up the Table Point Trail loop, but doing that (and working our way back) would’ve added 8 miles to our already 3 mile hike back to camp. Ultimately, we decided that sun, a comfortable spot, clean water, and restrooms was our plan for the afternoon. We sat there for a solid two hours: talking to each other, meeting people coming and going from the tours, and watching the horses graze & frolic. It was simple yet glorious. It got up to a whopping 50 degrees, so we never got completely warm, but the sun made for a great reset on the trip.

We finally had to start heading back towards camp, as we didn’t want to run the risk of hiking those trails in the dark. Never wanting to duplicate our walks, we headed out on Duck House Trail. As you may have guessed, we found some more varieties of mushrooms and came across more horses on the trail. We even found the sign pointing to water “near” our camp, despite it’s best efforts at camouflage.

Once we reached the Yankee Paradise Campground (just as deluxe as our campground), we headed south on a new section of the Parallel Trail that would take us back to camp. Although this last trail was only a mile and a half, it was quite challenging. The terrain was still flat, but the trail would “go missing” in spots. The palmettos, ferns, and underbrush were quite thick on this trail and there were many leaning or downed limbs. There were some spots that were hard to navigate just hiking, so once again I was quite thankful not to have the large backpack on during this trek. There were more mushrooms (of course!) and even a tree that looked like it was shedding. We were adjusting to this difficult trail and starting to enjoy the puzzle of finding the trail when suddenly we came to a wall of jumbled, downed trees. We couldn’t figure out if the trail turned or was simply blocked. We worked together, keeping our orientation on the way we came but walking around the jumble (through dense forest)…encountering one obstacle after another for a long five minutes. Brandon finally was able to spot what seemed like the trail further down. We nervously took it and hoped for the best. If it was wrong, we would have to backtrack many miles to take another route. Onward we went, in silence, until we were finally relieved to find our site.

We got back to camp and celebrated our six mile trip with snacks. We sat on our little camp log and marveled at simple things such as the birds in the trees and the ants on the ground. We made a little impromptu D&D game with our natural materials at hand. A whelk shell was our die (it only rolled to three positions, so we called those a 1, 10, or 20). Playing with mostly critical ones or natural twenties leads to a wholly unbalanced adventure, by the way. We fought a stick monster and then a moss monster and won easily. However, we lost to the ant army. Ah, such silliness in the moment that will bring a smile to both of us for a long time. After fooling around awhile, the sun was once again low, we were thoroughly cold again, and it was time to cook dinner. While Brandon was getting down the bear bag, a horse wandered right past our site! It paused a minute (not ten feet away), looked at me, and moved along. It was both scary and mesmerizing, as it didn’t make a noise. If I hadn’t the last bit on video, I might would think I had hallucinated in my tired state. Back to dinner…all blessings to Brandon for taking care of us, but we both agreed our macaroni and spam meal, while technically filling, was not a hit. All good-we had our little portion of Raisinets to end the day before quickly getting into the slightly warmer tent. I had packed cards, so we played cards for as long as we could sit cross-legged and then we climbed into our sleeping bags for long conversations and and even longer night.

Backpacking – Cumberland Island Part 1

Never did I ever think I would have backpacking on my bucket list. Yet I have this crazy inner battle that encourages me to step outside my comfort zone and force myself to grow. It’s a weird thing that I can’t fully explain but wholeheartedly endorse. Part of it comes from a song lyric from Cruxshadows that grabbed me long ago and drives me: ”Look at your life, who do you want to be before you die?” It’s embedded in the goth version of a birthday song, so maybe not cheery, but it hits me at my core. So I fight my inner being filled with self-doubt and anxiety, and I push to be the confident adventurous person I want to be. The other part comes from knowledge that God created so many amazing things, people, & places on this Earth; I want to experience as much of it as possible. 

My dad loved backpacking and my boys did plenty of it through Scouts. I enjoy tent camping and day hikes, but never even considered pioneer camping, much less backpacking. It seemed unapproachable, undesirable, and beyond my physical ability. So how did this happen, you ask?? Back in late October, Thom & I went for an impromptu drive to chase the sunset, so to speak. I watched the sun set through the trees while we drove along the curvy roads of GA 60. As the light was nearly gone, we pulled over to a little parking area to enjoy those quiet moments between day and night. I was intrigued by this parking area in the middle of nowhere and had the realization that the AT (Appalachian Trail) probably crossed through the area. I pulled out my flashlight and investigated the area until I found a trail sign indicating we were at Woody Gap. The sign noted that we were 20 miles from Springer Mountain. I can’t explain it, but something took root in my mind as I remarked that Springer was the beginning of the AT and maybe I could do 20 miles. 

I promptly texted Brandon and asked if he wanted to hike the first 20 miles of the AT. He quickly responded “Sounds like a party.” Over the next few days, we decided we needed a test-run backpacking trip (as maybe 20 miles on the AT for a first time was not the best idea). We quickly honed in on Cumberland Island for a first trip due to mostly flat terrain and multiple options for stops/routes. I’ve been there for day trips before and loved it. Brandon went as a little guy and didn’t remember it at all. Last year we talked about planning a family trip to Cumberland, but that had fizzled out. I knew that December/January were the best months for Cumberland (due to ticks, mosquitos, etc) and that lined up well with us having time off from school & work. So, I put a bunch of gear on my Christmas list and we started planning.

Upon making reservations on Cumberland, there were only two spots available and they were for the Hickory Hill camping area. It’s listed as 5.5 miles from the dock, so we knew we were in for a minimum 11 miles. It was both exciting and intimidating to study the map and look at possible treks over our three days on the island. The closer we got to the trip, the more anxious I felt. Some well-intentioned friends questioned the whole thing, but others were encouraging and supportive. I knew Brandon had lots of experience backpacking and he thought I could do this, so I leaned into his encouragement. We headed down to St. Marys on December 27th and had a big meal and a hotel stay the night before. The next morning, we checked in at 8am and prepared for the ferry ride over to the island.

This is a good point to reveal a few things that already went sideways. First, I made an error in packing. I bought a second pair of cargo pants at the last minute, so at home I pulled out my backup leggings and replaced them with the new pants. When I double checked my backpack in the hotel, I realized I had not pulled out my black leggings but had instead pulled out my black turtleneck (my only long sleeve shirt). So, I got myself an early souvenir at the ferry check-in: a long sleeve shirt. Additionally, the forecast had changed a bit as we approached the trip, but things were still looking like the averages we expected: low chance of rain, lows in the upper 40s and highs in the upper 60s. The day before our trip, the forecast shifted significantly to be wetter and colder with high winds on days two and three.

We pressed on and boarded the ferry for a 45 minute journey along the St. Marys River and across the Cumberland Sound. The water was shockingly still, it was chilly, and the cloudy skies looked ready for rain. Despite the nerves and the conditions, it was an enjoyable ride filled with bird sightings and even a few dolphins swimming ahead of the boat. We got off the ferry at the Sea Camp Dock amongst a driftwood beach, went through camping orientation, participated in the raising of the flag, and began the adventure.

Based on the updated forecast, we decided that we’d better head over to the beach on our first day since it was likely the only day without high winds. (If you’ve been to a windy beach, you know that the sandblasting you receive is not enjoyable.) We headed off toward a lunch stop at Stafford Beach. The temperature was quite comfortable (low 60s) but it drizzled rain off and on throughout the day. We made it over the access trail to the Parallel Trail and were barely underway when the chest strap on my backpack broke. This was the strap that kept should straps flat against my chest, so while it wasn’t the end of the world, it certainly made for some extra difficulty over the next few days. We pressed on and, unlike our normal day hikes, we fell into a comfortable silence. It wasn’t long before Brandon stopped and pointed at the bushes. He heard and then spotted the first of many armadillos we would see during our days on Cumberland. They were funny little creatures scurrying along through the brush in search of bugs. If they spotted you, they would gallop away for just a moment before returning to their work. The island was spectacularly beautiful; we wandered among live oaks, Spanish moss, palmettos, ferns, and a wide variety of mushrooms. We encountered spaces where the jungle seemed to end and a pine forest would start (almost like someone drew a line in the land). We would go a little ways and it would suddenly change back. We encountered many branches stretching across the trail, some where you would have to climb over them and others where you would have to crawl under (which is challenging with a 35 pound bag on your back). As we crossed over to Pratts Trail, we decided to take a snack break at one of these areas with a low branch inviting us to take a load off. Our break tree also had a funny little branch with a “face”–there were fun details everywhere if you took the time to look. A mile later, we were at the Stafford Beach Campground where we could take our packs off, refill with potable water, and use a “real” bathroom.

After a short rest and water, we headed down a boardwalk and over the dunes onto the beach. Our exhaustion vanished and the sun came out for awhile. We were the only people in sight on the massive natural beach. We wandered for a good hour gathering shells and enjoying the sea air. Brandon found a bivalve-type shell that he thought might have an oyster (but only had a tiny crab). We took pictures of our findings but left most of them (as they surely wouldn’t survive the backpack). We did bring back two of the coolest (empty) whelks. Although we could’ve stayed all day, we knew there was still a little bit to go before making camp. We went back to the Stafford Campground bathroom area and enjoyed the chance to sit on the decking and have some lunch. (Every day we had bagel sandwiches with Goober Strawberry.) Once fully revived, we headed back over to the Parallel Trail towards camp.

Exhaustion quickly caught up to me after the excitement of the first stretch and the natural high of the beach excursion. We also discovered that we had an extra mile than expected upon realizing our initial planned trek in was not the advertised 5.5. miles but it was actually 6.4 miles using the trails (apparently the 5.5 is if you went on the service road). 

We enjoyed lots of new sights on the last stretch of the day: An oak with a horizontal low limb that stretched almost like a board over 25 feet, a field covered in tiny little moss balls, plants in a sunny area that looked like we jumped ahead to spring, a shady area with lots of golden trees that felt like we traveled back to fall, and wild horses. The horses were eerily quiet and would just come out of the trees and onto the trail in packs. There was danger hidden behind their beauty, so you just had to wait for them to move on. They were also way bigger than you would think–many of them would be approaching eye-to-eye with Brandon (who’s 6’6″) and many were quite muscular. 

While all this was amazing, it was fighting against my discomfort. Brandon taught me how to alternate my weight distribution between the shoulders and the hips, but I found myself constantly adjusting, questioning if we missed a turnoff, and wondering if I would make it to camp. I finally halted us and tossed the dang backpack on the ground. I know, stopping just makes it harder, but I felt done. I was pondering just setting up camp right there in the middle of nothing because I didn’t know if I could go further. Brandon was patient and encouraging while I had some water and a brief mental breakdown. Then we heard the most awful howling & screeching noise I’ve ever heard. I knew it must be the wild boar and it didn’t sound terribly close, but it was enough to motivate me to put the backpack back on and hustle away. Ironically enough, we rounded two more turns in the trail and found ourselves at our camping area, Hickory Hill.

Campsite is some loose terminology for this area of the wilderness. There were a handful of semi-cleared spots in the general vicinity. Tired as we were, we knew we had to set up camp since darkness would come early. We found a spot (just beyond the camp sign) that had: no tree stumps, no anthills, no animal footprints, and was surrounded by a low canopy of bent tree branches. So, we set up the tent and Brandon rigged up the bear bag. Then we discovered a big mistake in our day. A hiking crew that we had run across back at the Stafford Camping area came by and asked if we left a large Berry water bottle. Yep, we left our biggest water vessel 3 miles back. Sadly, but understandably, no one brought it with them, and we weren’t trekking 6 miles roundtrip at dark to get it. This led Brandon to promptly crash laying half in the tent for a bit. I already had my moments of frustration, so I left him alone and scoped out our area to be familiar with the nearby trail crossings and to find the “perfect” bathroom spot that I would inevitably need. (More on that later) We didn’t have the luxury of chairs, so I sat on a nearby log until that got uncomfortable and then just sat on the ground. I was mesmerized watching an armadillo scour the bushes all around our camp until I realized the sounds of the forest were turning to evening sounds and the sun was nearly gone. So, I woke Brandon up to have dinner while there was some light. Our little camp stove worked great and he made some delicious chili ramen with beef jerky pieces. Thanks to Alex’s suggestions, we took a little chocolate (a box of Raisinets) and thus had a little something sweet both nights. We took it as a good sign when I got a heart-shaped one! 

As the sun set, the clouds went away and the temperature went down. Since you can’t have fires in the wilderness section, there was nothing to do but go in the tent (at like 5:30pm, lol). The nearby group went on a night hike over to stargaze at the beach, but I couldn’t fathom the 2 mile roundtrip in the cold dark. We spent awhile smashing mosquitos (they apparently were around in the cool weather and filled up the tent while we were setting up). Then we sat talking with the flashlight until sitting on the ground became tiring. Then we settled in way too early for a way too long night that was chillier than expected at 40 degrees. While physical discomfort was part of the scene, we made the best of it with some great conversations. We reminisced over the highlights (and low points) of the day. We congratulated ourselves on 8 miles of backpacking that day and talked about plans for the next day. We marveled over the fact that there were mushrooms of every color and noted that some of them were reminiscent of the Last of Us, which sparked a whole conversation about the what-if of some apocalyptic event happening from our mushroom exposure that day. After the Covid experience on my cruise in February 2020, it feels like any crazy thing could happen. We finally fell into that realm of half sleep and nonsense talking to your tent mate. I think we both woke up dozens of times in the night to animal sounds, moonlight, the cold air, and the sound of big winds moving in. It wasn’t so much as restful as it was a time to be tired in other parts of your body. Yet we had completed day one and had each other, so it was good in a different way.

Side Story: If you’re squeamish or not a fan of bodily function discussions, just don’t read this last section. Come back later and read about day two. Otherwise, I have to address the elephant in the room. First, because anyone close to me knows it was my biggest worry. Second, because maybe my experience will help someone else freak out less. I’m not so girly that I’ve never peed in the woods. However, I generally try to avoid that experience at all costs. Until recently, I’ve never had to experience anything more than peeing in the outdoors. However, I was hyperfocused on the disasters that could be part of having to handle all of nature’s functions out in the wilderness. I asked women hikers I knew, and I dove into the Reddit holes of women in the wilderness and decidedly wasn’t ready for all of the stuff some women were embracing. However, one suggestion of a Kula Cloth was great. This is an antibacterial cloth with a little hook to put your finger through that you can easily wipe with after peeing. It clips back on itself and clips onto your pack. It keeps you from having to dig/bury toilet paper or from being unclean for days (leading to chafing or UTIs). It stayed with my daypack that had toilet paper ziplocs, women product ziplocs, a trowel, extra headlamp, and hand sanitizer. So, I wouldn’t call that fun, but it worked. I also discovered that leaning my back against a tree was super helpful: it gave support as all my old joint/bone injuries showed up and it helped prevent too much “splatter”. (Brandon was intrigued by all of this and remarked that guys have this process so much easier). I was still worried about number 2, but thankfully (?) I never had to deal with that. Due to my sulfur allergy (and the sulfur content of water in the area), my Reddit friends had suggested two Immodium before heading out on the trip…I think that stopped number two for a few days inadvertently. I was most freaked out about period issues as (of course) my period decided to be late in December despite being regular for years. I only had to deal with this the first day and it was minimal so thank goodness for ziploc bags to pack trash out.  I had been desensitized a little bit on this one before heading on the trip. My November period brought the adventure of a car ride with the only bathroom for miles being closed, and the unfortunate adventure of absolutely having to change a tampon in the woods. I wasn’t prepared for that horror, but I learned that I could survive it. For the record, I still am not thrilled about the outdoor bathroom but it won’t keep me from backpacking again. For your comic enjoyment after enduring this paragraph, here’s a picture of our “Pee Tree” near camp–trail side for Brandon and hidden side for me.