It's probably all my fault ...

The first time I took my son, Jeff, on a campout he was barely old enough to sit up. He and I went car camping at Rocky Springs on the Natchez Trace. It was just us guys ... and I know he was only barely old enough to sit up because while I was putting up our pup tent, he didn't sit up. In fact, even though I had sat him safely in the middle of the picnic table while I put up the tent and when I turned around he wasn't on the table any more. He was on the ground in the gravel and dirt. Oops!

As I remember--and it was probably 35 years ago--he didn't cry or scream or whimper; in fact, he made no sound at all. (I like to think that he landed on his hard head, so it didn't hurt him.) And I was glad his mother wasn't with us to scold me for being so careless ... So, it's probably all my fault that he's the way he is now ...

Sometime about that time, we put him in a backpack and hiked through Mammoth Cave in Kentucky. I figure when they turned out the lights and we stood there in the pitch dark, the trauma of the darkness probably worked on his young head. And in the winter we used to hike in the Smokies with him in the backpack. Maybe the cold got to him when we'd put him in the creek.

A couple of years later, his mother and I decided to take him on an overnight canoe trip on the Strong River from D'Lo to where the Strong runs into the Pearl River. We stopped at a sandbar that afternoon and scrambled up the side of the hill from the river to find a place to set up our tent. I think we cooked and ate down on the sandbar, but that night--his first campout in the woods--he "heard a bear" during the night. Of course, there weren't any bears in south-central Mississippi--probably an armadillo--but he was convinced that a bear had walked by our tent. I know he slept, because I was awake off and on during the night listening to the sounds of the woods and the river flowing below us.

The next morning we loaded the canoe and headed on down the river. We came to a section of riffles (there really aren't any navigable rapids in Mississippi) and I saw an inner-tube that had washed up on the side of the riffles. I asked Jeff if he'd like to ride the rapids on the inner-tube and he said he would, although his mother wasn't sure it was such a good idea. We got out of the canoe at the top of the riffles and got the inner-tube and read the river to see how he would float. Then I scrambled down to the bottom of the riffles so I could catch him when he came floating down to me. I signaled to my wife to turn him loose and all was going well until his inner-tube went left when I had thought it would go right. He quickly caught the current and went to the opposite side of the river from where I was standing. Did I swim after him? No! I just stood there with my mouth open wondering why I had mis-read the river. Suddenly, I thought I'd better go after him, but by that time he was past me and floating on down the river and the canoe was at the top of the riffles. By the time I got to the canoe, my wife and I had paddled through the riffles, and caught up with him, he was well down the river, just floating and watching the scenery, seemingly not worried about a thing. Maybe the trauma of that made him the way he is ... and it's probably all my fault.

I remember several car camping events after that and another trip down the Strong River, but nothing that would serve to shape him until we sent him to a summer camp in North Carolina. At that summer camp, he slept in a cabin with screens for windows  all summer, hiked on the high mountain trails, swam in cold lakes or the ice cold creeks, learned to build fires with one match and no paper, and camped in the rain and under the stars in some of the most beautiful parts of our nation.

When we lived in Colorado for a few years, he and I once skied with backpacks up to Tennessee Pass near Leadville in January and camped on six feet of snow at 13,000 feet at -15 degrees ... maybe it was the thin air, or the cold night, or something else that made him the way he is now ... and it's probably all my fault. Or maybe it was the backpacking down to Horseshoe Mesa in the grand canyon, or rock-hopping above Moraine Lake in Canada, watching for grizzlies while hiking in Glacier NP, or watching shaggy mountain sheep in the little town of Waterton Lakes. There was bound to be something we/I didn't foresee to make him like he is ...

So, several years ago, he and his new wife moved to Oregon where they can hike, backpack, raft, and bicycle at least every other week. The get to gaze on Mt. Hood everyday. They've hiked the 90 miles of the Wonderland Trail around Mt. Ranier, snow-shoed around Crater Lake in January, climbed Mt Adams in Washington (three times) and South Sister near Bend, rafted Hell's Canyon in Idaho, canoed on unimaginably beautiful lakes in Oregon, and now he wants to climb Mt. Hood. What is wrong with this guy? He even gave his wife an engagement ring at the top of Multnomah Falls, and when he gets lazy she pushes him to get out on the trails ... I know it's all my fault! 

He keeps inviting me out to Oregon to hike with him and his wife ... and we went out last summer for a short backpack up to the Green Lakes area. He remembers going with me when I could do 15 or so miles a day ... but not any more, especially at altitude ... but he can ,,, And does ... And he really loves it!

I've ruined him, haven't I? And all because I left him on the table while I was pitching the tent. Do you think I'd do it all again? In a heartbeat ... his head is a lot harder now!

The Woods in December - 2010 December

I took a couple of days off from work to get in to the woods, since it doesn't look like I'll have a chance to get back until January. I had just about decided to head in on Wednesday evening, which meant hiking with a headlamp (which I've done many times) and setting up my campsite in the dark. The hesitancy I had was that it was supposed to get into the low 20's that night and I wasn't excited about pitching my tent without building a fire. I figured I didn't want to stumble around looking for firewood at 10 at night ... too old for that in the winter.

So, I waited until Thursday morning and left early. It was a gloriously sunny day in the winter in Mississippi/Alabama. The sun was warming the woods and yet the crisp air was good for a hike. Perfect!

Because there was another front blowing through the south and a 90% chance for rain on Saturday, I decided to throw

down my gear under a bluff I frequent when there is bad weather on the way. The bluff faces south and is protected from those cold north winds; plus it's large enough for me to pitch a tent, build a fire, and hang my gear up under the overhang, so nothing gets wet.

When I got to the bluff--I call it Tick Bluff because two summers ago when I camped there I pulled ticks off of me all weekend--before I pitched my tent or unpacked my pack, I started dragging up logs and limbs for firewood. I wanted to get started in case the rains came earlier than predicted. After I got a pretty good pile of limbs and such, I pitched my tent where I had pitched it before. I found a plastic bottle nearby, so someone had been there, but it looked like day hikers had sheltered there and not camped over night. I had left a small pile of wood beside the fire ring a year earlier and it was there untouched. After getting my camp set up I decided to go for an afternoon hike and look for other bluffs suitable for winter camping. I covered several big bluffs where major rocks had broken off, but nothing that looked inviting. I went to one overhang that I had visited before where there was an old campsite. The fire ring looked 25 or so years old--built up three or more feet--but it was a campsite that should have been closed until it recovers from the abuse ... lots of garbage and tin cans around--what a shame.

I went by Auburn falls where the falls were icicles and took a few pictures ... quite beautiful. The sun, while not shining directly on the falls, was warming up the air, and I surmised that the icicles were not long with us this weekend unless the temp went back down.

Thursday night was probably in the lower 30s or upper 20s - just right for a good campfire and a warm meal. I didn't take a watch with me to the woods this time, so I thought it was about 8 PM, but when I turned on my phone long enough to see the time, it was only 6:40. I stoked the fire for another hour or so and decided to turn in.

For some reason, I floss every night when I'm in the woods. In all honesty, I don't always floss when I'm at home -- now, one has to ask, why does a person always floss in the woods? Anyway, I do ... and I brushed extra well. I slept well Thursday night, except that I had forgotten to put my extra insulated pad under my feet and when I scrunched down in my bag my heels went on the ground and I woke sometime in the middle of the night with cold feet. I know better and always take a couple of old insulated pads to sit on and put under my feet for just such times. I didn't make that mistake the next two nights.

I woke up when the sky was getting lighter and had to leave the tent for a few minutes (you figure it out), then got back in the bag for another 30-45 minutes. When it got full light, I was up and heating water for my Starbucks Via. Um-mm-mm good!

After breakfast, I decided to walk the bluffs from where I was around to Ship Rock to see if there were any more bluffs suitable for shelter in a storm. I found several places that were certainly large enough to get out of the rain, but they did not have spaces level enough to comfortably pitch tents ... one could make-do in a crisis, but one would not want to pitch there intentionally. A couple would certainly have been adequate with a hammock during the summer, but nothing where several tents could be pitched. (At this point I had decided to look for somewhere I could take my student Wolfpack for a weekend.) One big bluff looked as if it had a cave entrance and space for a couple of tents, but the water there was not potable. (Okay, so I'm picky ... however, after a study of the terrain, I have found a couple of excellent bluffs which not only offer shelter from the storms, but have good water nearby.) The biggest one had several level places to pitch tents and was not too far from a water source ... a possibility, but not a definite.

Slabbing the edge of the bluffs is not particularly easy ... lots of ups and downs often steep and rough on the ankles ... but if one is going to explore like this, winter is certainly the time to do that. The undergrowth is non-existent except for an occasional wait-a-minute vine, and often the forest floor is simply beautiful.

After covering a mile and a half of bluff edges, I headed down hill to the trail along the valley bottom. I returned to my campsite with ease on the trail. I had covered a lot of the bluff bottoms looking for a suitable campsite and had found nothing note-worthy. I always anticipate finding something really neat where no one else has camped before ... didn't this time -- maybe tomorrow ...

Friday afternoon was cloudy, and, anticipating rain the next day, I hauled and cut more wood for my fire. If I was going to be sitting under my sheltered bluff for 12 hours, I wanted to be sitting next to a nice warm fire. Cutting firewood with a small crosscut saw will always get one's BTUs generating under a jacket.

Friday night was warmer in the tent. After flossing and brushing, wisely, I put an insulated pad under my feet and one under my head. My Thermarest is 72" long and I am 73" long, so, if I stretch completely, something is going to be hanging off. I have this awesome new pillow I purchased from ENO, the hammock people. It's hard as the dickens to repack, but it is awesome for sleeping. It's big and soft and when I stuff my down vest up inside of it, um-mm-mm, can this old man saw some Zs on his new pillow! The night was pleasant and I fell asleep to the soft whoot of an owl prowling the forest looking for a mouse. Some of the owls in the Sipsey are very large and one can hear them flying through the trees because their wingtips hit the ends of limbs as they fly from tree to tree.

Saturday morning was much like the morning before. I got out of my bag too early because the large amounts of liquids I had drunk the afternoon and evening before. I had had several cups of Via de-caf and lots of flavored drinks to quench my thirst from sawing wood. You get the point ... and then crawled back in my bag, knowing that I would be unable to gain sleep again, but happy to be in a tent in the woods awaiting full daylight.

Breakfast was once again Mountain House Granola reconstituted with warm water instead of cold. Pretty good! I can't always find that MH granola--ought to learn to make my own--but when I do find it, I usually get several packs. It just hits the spot in the woods ... sometime that breakfast itch is scratched with oatmeal, and sometimes with grits, but I always scratch it ... and I remembered to take my vitamins.

Saturday morning I felt some fine misty sprinkles about mid-morning. Not so much that I didn't want to go for a walk. I climbed a ridge and sat under several young fir trees that made a shelter from the mist. I had a holiday flavored Cliff bar with some cheese sticks and some jerky, so I was looking for a place to chill. I crawled out toward the edge where I could see the forest floor and the trail for several hundred yards. Three guys with lots of blaze orange came by and stopped right underneath where I was sitting. I was about 200 or so feet above them, so they didn't see me. I'm not sure why they stopped where they did, nor what they did when they stopped, but after 20 minutes or so, they loaded up and hiked on toward FT 209. A day hiker in a red jacket passed them while they were stopped ... he was on his way in, so he needed to hustle or get caught in the rain. When I was finishing the jerky and some water, I noticed two dark movements on the trail. The first thing I saw was the large Standard Poodle--solid black--with red bows on its ears and tail; then I saw the woman dressed all in black trailing along behind, trying to keep up. She had the dog on one of those leashes that is on a reel and lets out or draws up with the push of a button (at least from 200 ft above, that's what it appeared to be). She was hustling on up the trail toward the trailhead with another 45 min to an hour to go. Really? A Standard Poodle with bows??? Really?

The rain was getting heavier, so I climbed down from my perch and headed back to my campsite. The rain set in and I started my fire with plenty of wood to keep it going for most of the night. I cannot tell you how wonderful and relaxing it is to sit under a bluff in the woods and listen to the rain and wind coming through. If a person cannot find the beauty of those sounds and sights, then we're on different planets.

Sunday morning I broke camp a little earlier than I had thought. Without a watch, one goes to bed a little earlier and breaks camp a little earlier than planned. As soon as I put on my pack, I noticed that it had started snowing. The flakes were tiny at first, but by the time I had gotten on down the trail toward the trailhead, the flakes were huge and coming down pretty well. Good grief, it was so beautiful! Sunday morning ... wilderness ... snowing ... hiking ... Thank you, Lord!

A Walk in the Woods II - October 2010

Once again I was lucky enough to go camping with some of the greatest teenagers in the world ... and, yes, there are great kids all over the world, but these that were in my world this weekend are part of the reason I do what I do. I love 'em ... And, you're saying to yourself, so, get on with the story ...

Homecoming Week at our high school ... several of the campers

were sweethearts, princesses, escorts, and such, so we couldn't leave Friday until after the football game (which we won 39-6) and everyone had a chance to take a shower. Can you believe that kids went camping right after they were all loaded-up with beauty for their Homecoming presentations at halftime? Just before the end of the game, I observed one of our campers leaving the game with five very attractive young ladies ... he was 40 minutes late getting to the meeting place ... at his age, with those ladies, I probably would have been late also ... real late! (He said he went to get ice cream ... sure ... we believe that, don't we?) It was after 10:00 PM when most of them got to the rendezvous point and they looked tired and ready to get away from it all. We got away from our rendezvous point about 10:45 and were on our way in three vehicles. One of my colleague teachers has gone with us on both trips -- a long-time backpacker. She is a super art teacher and a very creative lady. I am thankful that she is willing to join us.

After dodging one large doe and a couple of raccoons on the road, we arrived at the trail head at exactly 1:00 AM and because we had already loaded our packs, we were crossing the bridge at the Thompson Creek TH shortly thereafter with headlamps blazing. We didn't have far to walk in the dark, but it was the first time the kids had had a chance to backpack in the dark. We didn't see or hear anything too frightening, so we got to White Oak Creek in about 20 minutes. I had chosen a campground that I have only seen people in once in my many trips. It's not in a great place because everybody who hikes in on FT 206 walks right by the campsite, but it was at the end of the White Oak Hollow Trail (unnumbered) that we would use to go over the "shortcut" to Big Tree the next day. As everyone was choosing a spot to pitch their tent, I was looking for two well-spaced trees between which to string my hammock. For kids who don't get a lot of practice, the tents went up amazingly fast. One of our students is kind of a 'take charge' guy, and he had everyone working to pitch tents, because they couldn't wait to crash in their bags after a long week and a long day.

Because it's only rained for about 45 minutes in the Bankhead Nat'l Forest over the past eight or nine weeks, the NFS has issued a burn ban in the

Wilderness and we were all disappointed that we couldn't have a campfire. White Oak Creek that would have put us to sleep babbling over the rocks was silent. It hadn't had any water coming down from the Hollow for six or seven weeks. It would have been perfect to hear water flowing in the creek and to be able to have a camp fire. However, had we been able to have a campfire, we might have stayed up even later. As it was, I snuggled down into my bivey sack at exactly 3:00 AM.

I woke up about 6:30 Saturday morning, but didn't get out of my comfortable hammock until about 6:45. Of course, none of the students were up. I got up and putzed around with my gear for a while and then got my Jetboil going to get some coffee water heating. I started my freeze dried granola re-hydrating and sat on a log thinking about the day. (FWIW, that Mtn House granola is really good.) The plan was to get the kids to Big Tree, do some water coloring with them and get back to camp before it got pitch dark. We had to make sure we had water bottles filled before we left.

The other teacher and her son were the next over to my area looking for some hot water for coffee and oatmeal. We had just enough to get both of those covered and knew we needed to get down to the water source before heading to Big Tree.

After the kids all got up and ate/drank whatever morning nourishment they had brought, we all went east to the next campsite to get down to a pool of water to fill our water bottles. The pool has a small spring keeping it filled, but the standing water is beginning to get a little filled with debris; enough to make me work on my filter when I got back home.

I had hoped to get off to Big Tree about 10:00, but it was closer to 11:00 when we left camp, but it was a gorgeous, sunny day, and I was glad to be in the woods on such a beautiful day. We headed up the White Oak Trail to FT 205 on the top of the ridge, stopped for water and a photo, then headed down the east side of the ridge to the Bee Branch watershed. The trail down is a nice trail, normally paralleling a stream with several small water falls, going through several hardwood stands before getting into fir forests and bluffs to scramble down. When the soil is dry (as it was this day), the scramble is not too difficult. When the soil is muddy, the way down is much more of an adventure to keep from slipping and landing hard on the big boulders of the stream. We had fun under the bluffs and fir shade, taking photos and eating snacks, but I urged us along to Big Tree.

When we got to the bottom of the trail where it empties into West Bee Branch, we turned south and went to the confluence of the West Branch and the East Branch where we intersected with the East Bee Branch Trail up to Big Tree. This trail used to be a beautiful little trail, but so many trees have fallen across it that it has become quite a scramble at several points. Actually, I went up this trail a year or so ago when one of the larger oak trees uprooted and fell on the trail. I almost never got my pack through all of the limbs, leaves, and up the muddy slope. The kids were excited, however, and scrambled up the canyon pretty quickly. When we first arrived a Big Tree, another family with kids was there and our students hung back a little to let the smaller children get out of the way.

Everyone counted coup on Big Tree and then we settled on the rocks to eat some lunch and drink some juice. I had predicted that--because of the extreme dry--neither of the falls would be running, and that was true, except from the tiniest dripping off of the right-hand falls. After we ate, the art teacher got our her art supplies and prepared them for us. As one of our students joyfully exclaimed, "Art supplies -- in the woods!" and, indeed, they were. After all of us had grabbed papers, paints, a pencils, and some water, we spread out around Big Tree to paint. Some sat on rocks, some disappeared to the bottom of the (non) falls, and one even held her paper up to the tree to trace the shadows of the leave on Big Tree (wish I had thought of that). We painted what we saw or what we imagined ... some heavy work and some minimalist work.

At around 3:00 PM, we packed our trash, our art supplies and headed up the side of the bluff to the trail that connects with FT 204. I had been on the north end of 204 connecting with 223, but I had never gone down 204 to the intersection with 209 ... I manipulated the students into thinking they had chosen that trail ... I later admitted my sin to the art teacher. Actually, the south end of 204 is a pretty trail to descend ... it intersects with 209 about a half mile east of the confluence of Bee Branch and the Sipsey.

We passed several groups of hikers/backpackers on 204 asking 'how much farther' to Big Tree. One of the groups was five day-hikers who had walked by our campsite about 8:30 that morning asking about the trail to Big Tree. They went down 206 to Bee Branch and should have taken an immediate left, but missed that trail and went on half a mile until they saw 204 go up the hill. It was about 3:30 in the afternoon, with another 30 minutes to Big Tree, then about four hours to hike out. I asked if they had headlamps, and they said yes, but they never came by our campsite that evening, so I don't know where they bivouacked, if they did. Anyway, it took us almost exactly an hour to get to FT 209. I had not been on that little section of 209, so it was nice for me to see that portion of the trail.

It took us 15 minutes to get to the bottom of Bee Branch, cross the log, and continue on to the 209 crossing of the Sipsey--where it goes up to intersect with 201. At that point, the trail continues on "not 206" through private land to a point where--supposedly--206 comes back across the Sipsey near the confluence of Parker Creek and Thompson Creek and continues west toward White Oak Creek.

That sounds confusing, but since the NFS can't number trails on private land, I call it "not 206" across the private land. Most people don't know it's officially not FT 206 ...

Okay, back to the story ... when we finally got back to the east side of the Eye of the Needle, the kids scrambled up the hill and through the eye. This leg-weary old man decided to walk the 10 minutes around the parrot's beak to the Ship Rock campground. The kids and the my colleague scrambled through quickly and got ahead of me by 1/4 mile.

(Okay, here's a diversion story ... while we were at Big Tree, five middle aged guys came up and ate lunch and took pictures and such. We chatted with them some and swapped hiking stories and left a little before

we did. . When the kids scrambled through the Eye, the five men were camped at the Ship Rock campsite (where these kids camped last spring) and had a fire in their fire ring. Our students were incensed that these adults would violate the 'no campfire' edict of the NFS. One of our students asked them, "Oh, did the Forest Service lift the burn ban?" One of the men replied that "they didn't know anything about the burn ban." Yeah, right ... a big sign at the trail head that one almost had to step around to get up the trail ... Hey, not that they'll ever read this, but, "Way to go, guys ... nice example for our younger campers.")

I was extremely proud of the maturity of our teenagers when not one of them asked, "Those guys had a fire, so why can't we?" I was extremely embarrassed at the immaturity of the five experienced hikers who built a fire even though they knew they shouldn't have. No wonder we picked up trash on every trail we traveled on ...

We hiked pretty quickly from Ship Rock to the Auburn Falls trail. At that point, the kids were desperate to get back to their camp, and started running. It's probably a mile or more from that point to White Oak Creek and they ran the whole way. This old man walked a fast pace, but he definitely did not run. Ah, youth!!

Dinner that evening was around the fireless fire ring. One of the guys put his stove in the middle of the ring and we lit tea lights around on the stones. It wasn't quite the same as sitting around the campfire, but we had good camaraderie anyway. We ended the night together telling stories about our childhood and such ... another good time together.

I went to my hammock about 10-ish or so, reminding the group that we had to get-up-and-get-around the next morning so we could break camp, hike out, and drive back to give them time to work on

an IB internal assessment that had due the next day. I thought would be early enough ... they got up about 8:45 ... oh, well ...

Hiking out of the woods is always a downer for me ... I love to be in the woods and would be there every week, if possible. It is a spiritual connection for me. It relieves my stress, gives me a chance to right my perspectives and realign my priorities. At the end of the trail near the Thompson Creek TH there is a hill I always think of as Disappointment Hill ... disappointment and headed back to civilization ... Alexander Supertramp: where are you?

A Walk in the Woods - April 2010

I teach a high school class in epistimology and, in the course of our discussions, happened to mention that I occasionally go backpacking in North Alabama. After several weeks, I was approached by some of the guys in the class who expressed a desire to go with me to the Sipsey Wilderness sometime. I said, yeah, when the weather warmed up some, we could probably arrange that. It wasn't long before some of the female students said they wanted to go, too. I said, sorry, but I didn't have the skill set to teach females how to do some of the things they needed to do in the woods. Had they been experienced backpackers, I wouldn't have had a problem, but the first time out, they needed a mentor. I told them that if they could find a female to go with us, they could be included. Resourceful as they are, they immediately went to one of our other teachers who grew up camping in the Sipsey Wilderness and occasionally still goes there with her own family. She also teaches at the high school.

After several starts and stops, we planned for the third weekend in April--if the weather was not a torrential downpour. The weather was wonderful and we met the weekend prior to check everyone's equipment and see that everyone had at least a sleeping bag, a sleeping pad, and a pack. Tents were also scrounged up and, after talking about food, we were set for the following weekend.

The 8 students and 3 adults met in the parking lot about 7:00 AM figuring that it would take us a little more than two hours to get to the trailhead. We stopped once in Haleyville for a last visit to the porcelain facilities and arrived 10-ish for the trail. We gathered for a "before" picture and warned about watching where we stepped and what we brushed against. The weather is getting warm enough for snakes and the poison ivy is beginning to leaf. We headed in at the Thompson Creek TH and crossed the bridge for an adventure guaranteed to be remembered by students and teachers alike. The pace of the hike was not too fast for an old man and we made a couple of stops to adjust straps and waist belts. With borrowed packs, one doesn't get a tailored fit and hot spots develop sometimes.

When we got to the Auburn Falls jaunt on the trail, everyone took off their packs and began to explore. One of the students was standing on a small ledge near the bottom of the falls and suddenly looked down and jumped off quickly. I went over to see a 3-foot copperhead trying to hide up in a crack on the ledge. We took some pictures. When I looked where the young lady had been standing on the ledge, I saw not a pile of leaves she had seen, but another coiled copperhead, only slightly smaller than his friend. Fortunately, both snakes were still cold and docile, barely able to move in the shade on the chilly rock. We figured that the young lady had either been standing with her foot right up against the coiled snake or maybe on top of him. Nevertheless, he was too cold to move to defend himself and just lay there trying to see what was going on. After everyone in the group had a look at the snakes to see that nature had correctly colored them for camouflage, we put our packs back on and moved on toward Ship Rock.
There had been a dozen cars at the trailhead, so I wasn't sure we were going to get to pitch our tents at the Ship Rock campground--always a good first backpacking trip place to stay when it's dry--but, our luck held, and we found the campground vacant. The kids excitedly pitched tents--some quickly found poles and flys to be confusing--but all shared snacks and then went exploring. I warned again about putting their hands on ledges they couldn't see, and they remembered the Auburn Falls critters and heeded the warning.

We climbed through the Eye of the Needle and went down to the riffles in the Sipsey. The adults filled water bottles while the kids helped each other across the shallow rapids and explored the rocks and pools. The kids found a fish trap with a couple of small fish in it and a couple of the braver kids decided to get in the water. Now everyone was thinking swimming, so we headed back around the end of The Rock to find a sandy spot on the shore to swim. Most had water shoes and, after changing some shorts, we all headed back to a sand spot along the Sipsey.
The swimming was fun to watch. All of the guys and one girl all took a couple of steps and jumped in at the same time. The water was cold! They played around for 20 minutes or so and then got out blue and shivering. After warming up we hiked down the trail in a southward direction to where FT 209 comes down from FT 201 and crosses the Sipsey. Then we turned and retraced our path back to our campsite. Most of us lazed around and sat around and chatted; some climbed rocks and explored.

Supper was fun. Most of the females had purchased one of my freeze-dried meals and fixed those. They guys had thought freeze-dried was too easy and had brought all sorts of stuff. The microwave meals were the funniest. They tried to boil them in pots, or roast over the fire someway ... most of the guys ended up eating the left-overs from the girls. One of the girls had a freeze dried blueberry cheesecake, which she fixed and shared with everyone ... pretty good!
I had asked everyone to bring a poem, essay, book, song, or something they had written to share with the group around the campfire. It was an amazing event. The stuff they brought was touching, meaningful, funny, insightful, and wonderful. The read poems they had chosed, shared books they had written, adapted movie scenes for the occasion, and shared favorite children's books. It was a touching time. For me there haven't been many more memorable campfires in a long, long time. It did this old man's heart good! After the campfire, everyone began to get ready for bed ... but many lingered by the fire to chat with a friend, to tell stories, recount memories, or just to listen. And, of course, one of our group went up by the rocks to howl at the moon ... or whatever ...

I had brought my hammock, a bivy sack, and my sleeping bag, so I put those together and slept like a baby. The sleeping pad in my bivy sack kept me from rolling off; not that I would have had anywhere to roll in the hammock. It was the first time for trying that combination, and it all worked well. I was toasty in a 40 degree night.
Sunday morning's sounds were of someone getting the fire started back up. By about 8, most of the crew was up and beginning to gather around the fire. The talked about how they had slept ... most didn't sleep as solidly as they do in their beds, and some slept fitfully because they were cold or couldn't get comfortable on the hard ground. I had warned them that camping was not a theme park, and nights are one of the times when that awareness is most evident. After breakfast and a mass brushing of teeth, I asked them if they wanted to go up on The Rock ... of course, they did ... so off we went.
There is one seam where one can climb up the back side of The Rock. We pushed, pulled, shoved, and otherwise got everyone up that seam and up on top of The Rock. They loved the height and the view (although summertime is not nearly as good a view as winter when the leaves are all gone). The drop around the edge was at least 300 ft, so they posed for pictures near the edge -- not dangerously near, but near enough to feel brave.

The talk for the rest of the morning was how trying to figure out how to stay out in the woods and not go back to school the next day ... some wanted to stay the week. Of course, reality is reality, and we began to pack up for the hike back to the parking area. A brief respite was taken when another adult and her son came walking into camp. She had been one of our chauffeurs, but had not spent the night with us. The crew took her out to show her where we had played and explored, even climbing back up on the top of The Rock. She got a workout before we hiked out.

The ride back was uneventful ... except for the recounting stories and tales -- some of which got better and better with the telling. It was a good trip and I am happy because, as one of the young men wrote me, "now I understand why you love to go to the woods all of the time." Indeed I do ...

Sipsey Wilderness - September 2009

Another trip into the Wilderness on a not-so-perfect weekend ... however, it was either get in the woods or losing what little sanity I have left in my old head. I checked out of the office a little early and headed up to north Alabama to a familiar campsite. The forecast for the weekend was rain, and when there's a forecast of rain, I generally head to a large bluff down the Thompson Creek Trail (FT 206). I happened on this bluff in March of 2008 and have made it my weekend home four times. It's large enough to pitch my tent, cook my food, relax in my Trekker chair, and has a nearby water source. I have been there in storms and even my tent didn't get wet except for a little moisture that dripped from the ceiling of the bluff.
I got to the Thompson Creek trailhead about 4:30 and while I was packing up for the trip, began to notice an older blue pickup with a tarp on the hood and some other gear hanging from the rearview mirror. As I crossed the bridge over Thompson Creek, I noticed clothes strung out on a tree that had fallen over the creek and some stuff down on a rocky area on the up-creek side of the bridge. It was obvious to me that someone had gotten soaked with all of his/her gear and was trying to dry it by hanging it out. Unfortunately, the sun was not shining through a very overcast sky.

The trail was pretty muddy and I could tell that the Wilderness had experienced a torrential rainstorm the night before. The trail was wet enough to believe that the storm may have continued into the early daylight hours. About three-quarters of a mile on the trail, I met a guy carrying a plastic grocery bag full of water bottles and other gear and three long twigs or vines.He and I stopped to chat. He asked if I knew the weather forecast. I had checked in Haleyville and reported a 30% chance that night and a 50% chance on Saturday. I asked if the gear hanging out to dry was his. He said it was. I said that he must have gotten really soaked. He said that he had. He liked my pack cover (I had put it on rather than chance having to stop on the way in and put it on) and said that he needed to get himself one.

We didn't say much more, but I supposed that he had been camping the night before and had endured one of those blowing torrential rainstorms that come up and down the Sipsey valley and had gotten really soaked. I imagined that he hauled his heavy, rainsoaked gear out to his truck earlier and had gone back in for some things he left. He didn't look as if he were having fun camping.

I got to the bluff, set up camp, and fixed my beef stroganoff for supper. It hadn't rained on me yet, but I was ready for it. Water was dripping over the edge of the bluff and I caught enough to fill two water bottles for the next day. I have a SweetWater filtering system, but on short hikes I usually just boil my water to kill the critters.

The night was uneventful except for the humidity, which was oppressive. I took my lightweight bag, but a sheet over my pad was sufficient until early in the morning.

Saturday morning I decided to hike around to where FT209 crosses the Sipsey ... been there many, many times, but I always hope to see a pig or a flower or a bird (or once a guy with the world's longest dredlocks). I hiked around the end of The Rock past the riffles and on down to the 209 marker. The sky was overcast, but it never rained on me. Going, I went around the end of The Rock, but coming back I climbed through the backside of the Eye of the Needle, just to vary the trip.

The afternoon was spent reading Ruben Abel's Man is the Measure for a class I'm teaching and dozing in my comfortable Trekker chair. I hoped for a storm, but got nothing. The night wasn't really cool enough, but I was determined to have a small fire, so I cut some old blow-down limbs and such for a small fire. I had to sit back a ways because it was too warm under the bluff.

Sunday morning I packed up and headed back to my vehicle. I noticed a tent at the campsite at the bottom of the Auburn falls creek. Somebody had packed in a four-man carcamping tent and pulled a cube cooler on wheels (I'll let you think about that for a while and draw your own conclusions). I also passed two girls and a guy with five large, wet dogs. The dogs were having a good ol time in the woods, but I wondered what kind of vehicle they would have to load those big wet dogs up in. The guy in the blue truck was still there. I noticed a New York license plate and wondered what he was thinking about the Alabama wilderness.

A moore-or-less uneventful weekend in the wilderness. Just what I needed!