Does this even count
No longer being in the moment?
I don't know,417Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdaQn0d4mmO
But here it goes anyways...
My husband asks if I want my hat as we get ready to set out.
I waffle for a second before deciding yes,
I do want my hat.
It's cooler out than called for or expected.
I am thankful he talked me into the hat at the last second before leaving the house.
We take a silly, mandatory picture at the trailhead.
Then we're on our way.
We pass through a narrow strip of a meadow-like area
On the edge of the woods,
Filled with this year's remnants of wildflowers and milkweed.
(The latter of which I find especially exciting as butterflies are one of my nature passions.)
Tons of purple-pink raspberry vines can be found here as well.
(In fact, there is an abundance of both raspberry and blackberry vines along
Most of the trail.
So much so that they are more like natural, thorny hedges than individual beings.)
We cross the first of several roads
And find ourselves in an expansive, open field.
Not much to say about this, or much of the rest of the trail today.
We make our way through a scrubby patch
Filled with undergrowth, more raspberries, and small trees.
Things become somewhat of a blur after this.
Again, the first day was relatively unremarkable on the outbound loop,
In my opinion.
The land turns into more mature forests.
We pass by a small pond that is, amazingly, still icy and frozen in spots.
The weather has been in the 60's for days over the week of Christmas at our house,
A mere 3 hours southwest.
The (arguably) worst part came next,
Walking alongside and through barren corn and soybean fields.
I realize the need for these things,
But to cut a trail through such areas?
We cross through more woods, another field of tall grasses surrounded by trees
And reach the southern trailhead,
Where I found some climbing bittersweet.
It stuck out like a sore thumb this time of year
With its bright orange-ish red fruit
Against the stark contrast of dead, dormant, and drab background of the land.
It was very “The Village”.
More berry hedges awaited us as we walked down a small descent
To finally be awarded some views of the shallow lake.
Calling it a “lake” is a bit of a lie or misnomer this time of year.
The huge, 2,000+ acre lake is lowered each winter for flood control.
It's not so much a lake today as a glorified river and mud flat.
Regardless, it's a nice change of scenery
And I can see how it would be a beautiful view during the warm months.
I take some photos anyways.
Our legs are getting sore and tired at this point.
6 ½ miles, roughly, in less than 3 hours.
Our overweight bodies are not sued to this amount of continuous walking.
Thank God it's flat terrain and not that much further to the campsites.
The campsites are surprisingly nice,
Especially the one we chose. (#6)
Offering two spots, we naturally opted for the one closer to the lake.
John got our dinner of packaged trail meals started
While I gathered sticks for the fire.
We ate, set up camp, and got the fire started.
(In the fire pit, I might add, which is a luxury in most backcountry campsites in the U.S.)
It was also nice to have a picnic table to
Set our food on and lay things out to
Pack the next morning.
(If fire rings are a convenience, picnic tables are damn near unheard of.)
The sun never did make an appearance,
As he was supposed to,
So the sunset snuck up quickly.
It wasn't long after and
The goose was loose.
(The Grey Goose, that is.)
My husband and I make a habit of taking alcohol
With us backpacking to help us sleep, you see.
The first drink didn't do much for either of us,
Due to having just eaten dinner, I suspect.
Things went on a downward slope after that and got...silly.
We got on the subject of names at one point
And John burst into laughter when I mentioned my uncle Mutt's
Real name being Harvey.
He had no idea, evidently. And we've been married for over 10 years.
After that our conversation devolved into “spiritual talk”.
We're both Pagans. (Shocker, right, since we both love nature?)
We got into one of those “awkward for us unless we're inebriated because we're
Such introverts” talks on our feelings about
Our spiritual paths.
I'll leave it at that...
And that The Goose is fucking sneaky.
It was the coldest night of the week.
(Though it wasn't supposed to be. That is just our luck.)
I felt like I was going to freeze to death despite our two sleeping bags.
We made the mistake of using both of the double sleeping bags.
You would think being able to leech
John's body heat would help,
But you would be wrong.
Never again.
Funny thing about when I get cold, too:
I don't like climbing out from whatever blanket I'm under.
Maybe it's just laziness, but
I have always been this way,
Even as a kid, curled up under my comforter like a cat.
On top of this ridiculous, archaic need to stay put,
I was also too drunk to remember that all of my clothes (and hat)
Were inside of the tent at my feet,
Not in the vestibule on John's side like I thought at the time.
You live and learn.
(Please learn from my stupid mistakes, if nothing else.)
By now you may have gathered that I am not all that experienced
In backpacking excursions,
And you would be correct.
But more on that in a minute...
After I finally forced myself to put on my clean, cold ass clothes after about
What felt like an hour of wallering around in the tent,
I got up to pee and eat breakfast the next morning.
(Which consisted of some nut butter-filled Clif bar instead of
The oatmeal I brought because John wanted to get going, I think,
And we didn't have much water left.
I slowly helped break stuff down and roll it away:
Sleeping bags, sleeping pads, tent poles, and the like.
Oh, and did I mention that my mom, who was watching our 3 young children,
Texted me (because I miraculously had service out there) that morning
To let me know she was feeling nauseous suddenly and to head home?
Not that we planned on lolligagging anyways, but
We were still about 6 miles from our car.
Did she expect me to magically teleport myself back to the trailhead?
Run with a 26 pound pack on?
The second day was much better as far as the scenery went,
Being mostly wooded.
There were some great views, it is worth noting,
Of the lake near mile marker 9.
We even saw a bald eagle flying overhead here!
(I always get excited seeing bald eagles
As it's not exactly common in Indiana.)
The second day was also worse, in a couple of ways.
Once the tips of my toes and fingers warmed up
After about a mile,
The telltale pain in my lower abdomen set in:
I had to go.
I'll leave it at that.
Now, still being the somewhat girly creature that I am occasionally
And the fact that this was only my
Second backpacking trip ever,
I refused to “go” in the woods when there was a prefectly good bathroom
Waiting for me at the interpretive center.
This, like the excessive libations,
Proved to be a bad idea.
I swore to my husband I would learn to poo
In the woods before our next trip,
Even if that meant practicing in the woods at home.
We walked fast.
Our feet ached.
Our knees hurt.
We finally, gloriously, arrived at our car.
We both got our packs off and in the car
And acted as if we had been to sea for too long
As we walked to the interpretive center across the parking lot.
Why was the ground moving so oddly?
Why did it seem as if one of my legs was trying to go in a different direction
While the other trudged dutifully forward as it should?
And that is the end of our journey, my friends.
Not surprisingly, I deeply regret not taking pictures
On our hike back the second day.
It was truly a lot more picturesque,
At least to myself as a woods lover,
Than the first day.
But, it's done and all I can do is hope that my alcohol-addled mind
Can remember some of it.
I doubt many people would appreciate the landscape's
Dormant beauty anyway.
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