“The
world off trail is by and large a delicious secret, and will return to that in
no more time than it takes for the sound of our footsteps to fade into the
forest.”
Gary Ferguson (Walking Down The
Wild-1993)
"The Walking Man" sculptured by Auguste Rodin
Cast in 1900
Pictured taken while visiting the
Art Institute of Chicago - Dec. 2016
For
the past week the weather reports for today looked bleak at best. It was supposed to be in the mid 30’s, and
they predicted that heavy rain and thunderstorms were probable. Last night, after an evening of
parent/teacher conferences at school, and preparing food until almost midnight,
I set to work in the garage gathering equipment, packing away dried grasses to
use as nesting material for my flint and steel, breaking up kindling sticks,
and storing firewood in old dog food bags (plastic and waterproof). While the rain drummed steadily, lightning
flashed menacingly, and the thunder rumbled on, I designed a system of holes on
an old sled so that I could lash the wood fuel down. It would be necessary to have dry firewood
when the Gulo Adventure Clan gathered in the morning for their traditional
winter hike. At the same time, the load
on the sled needed to be secure enough to pull through fields, forests, and
bottomlands while being able to withstand the knocking around it would take as
it was heaved up and over the various debris found in such environs. The old sled had worked when I went out in
the rain a few weeks ago, but it needed revision. (See past blog: Day Camp In The Rain) Originally
we had planned on hiking across a frozen lake and through a dogwood-strewn
marsh today, but due to the unseasonably warm temperatures this winter, that
adventure is going to be saved for a colder day in a different year.
As
the morning came into fruition, the meteorologist’s ploy met Mother Nature’s
fancy. It was not so much a duel, as
much as a win-win for both sides. The
cold and misty rain met our group as we gathered in the driveway, but the
lightning stayed at bay; having exhausted itself hours before on what typically
is a snowy month. We packed our gear
into about five different back packs, and then loaded it into the back of Joe’s
Suburban and my Jeep. My dog Kora jumped
into the back, peering over the seat while whining with excitement. It was time to ramble on into our rugged
adventure.
Starting
out across a prairie, we burned off our initial excitement and energy. Seven of us braved the elements on what would
be deemed a nasty day by most accounts; cold and wet with a dampness that
seeped into you. Most of the guys noted
that if it wasn’t for the invitation, the out-of-doors would have been the last
place they probably would have been. You
could smell the rain, and from the trails that were easy to traverse, we descended into
a thick, grassy marsh. We had to high
step in it, giving our quadriceps and hip flexors a workout. Once in the bottomlands, our ingenuity was
put to the test. Water was flowing deep
in several channeled low spots, and although Kora simply jumped and splashed
through them, we threw logs and tree trunks over them to form bridges we could
tightrope across. The mist continued
falling. We were getting tired from the
loads we were hauling, and working up a sweat, yet still we rambled on.
We
followed the river until we met drainage off an oxbow that was too deep and
wide for us to cross. It was the end of the
line, and a good place to set up camp.
The nice thing with having numerous guys along, besides acting as Sherpa’s
and hauling in the extra gear and firewood needed for a day like today, was
that it didn’t take long to hang a tarp that Scott had carried in his pack and
arrange an area to call home for a few hours.
Amazingly I went from two strikes on my flint and
steel, to flames on the grass tinder in a matter of seconds. I was glad I had prepared the necessary dry fuel
sources last night. Justin unloaded the
12 pound iron skillet from his pack, and Ted handed us the food pack he had
been carrying on his back. We soon had
the fire ripping, and Wes dove in to man the skillet; sacrificing his hands to
the heat and his face to the smoke to keep stirring the ingredients as I added
them. Doug handed me the water he had
packed in, and we soon put that to boil in an aluminum pot my Dad had recently
repaired. We were bound and determined
to actually have “hot” chocolate this year as opposed to lukewarm.
Likewise,
our group had come together today, and in one spirit after hiking, we wolfed
down the food. An apple had been our
only holdover until we were able to gorge on the main meal, and so we attacked
the meal with vengeance; Kora included.
We washed it down with some orange juice. As our conversation continued over the
crackling fire, we were surprised when we removed the lid from the aluminum
pot; the water was in a roiling boil.
Hot chocolate indeed!
Soon
after, the Sherpa’s went to work and camp was quickly broken down. The tarp hadn’t really been necessary, but it
had been available in case we were in dire straits and needed it. We doused the fire, reloaded our packs
(albeit lighter now than on our way in), and lashed the remaining supplies to
the sledge. As Joe grabbed a hold of the
reins to the sled to begin our journey out, he reminded us that we needed to
take our group picture. The picture has
become a tradition of our outings that allows us to mark the progress we hold
dear over the years of our friendships.
 |
| Mist on a prairie plant |
And
so, as we backtracked and talked our way out of the wilds, it was with smiles;
both from the experience and the effort it took to hike the 3ish
miles in and 3ish miles out.
The wood smoke that had permeated our skin would remain with us
throughout the day. It would remain as a
constant and vivid reminder of our adventure.
As our footsteps faded from the forest, our spirits rambled on.
See
you along The Way…
Crank it up!
