Drive-By Adventures

When we visit Ohio, it's a seven to nine hour drive, depending on which part of Ohio we visit.  Recently, The Girl discovered Coopers Rock State Forest in Maryland, which gives us a nice midpoint driving break.  We figure we can eventually hike the entire park, an hour or so at a time, as a respite from a long day in the car.

A large bear made of small sticks for Earth Day.

The view from the park's eponymous rock.

The trail runs underneath these outcroppings; we could see where bolts for a climbing route had been removed.

Everywhere the Signs

When I was in junior high, we drove by a Wendy's with a sign out front that read "NOW HIRING LOSERS."  I don't know if the C fell off on its own, or if some wag stole it, but it's funny either way.  Sadly, I didn't get a picture of it, but I still see a lot of signs that I think are pretty funny, for various reasons.

Not to be confused with Bob Wood's Tree.

Hopefully, they are better at printing the new hundreds than they are at hanging banners.

Seen parked in Alexandria.  I don't know how long he's been waiting there.

Mother's Day Mountain Mushroom March

My Mother's Day was perfect.  It was exactly what I think Mom would have liked.  The Girl and I hiked Old Rag with another friend, and before lunch we got a good reminder about being aware of your environment.  A couple hikers were just ahead of us as we approached an area called Trillium Hill for reasons so obvious that we won't go into them here when I heard a sudden noise in the dry leaves to the right of the trail.  When I looked, I saw a bear--and her two cubs!  The hikers who had spooked them continued, oblivious to the ursine presence in the woods, and we scrambled to get our cameras out before the family moved too far away for our zooms.  Luckily, the cubs got distracted by a tree and scampered up the trunk.  They spent the next ten minutes climbing up, calming down and descending, then climbing up again while the mother waited at the base of the trunk, unwilling to leave without her young.  The best pictures I got follow; the resolution may be a little thin on some of them, because I had to crop to compensate for my zoom, but I'm still very happy with what we got.

The mother is watching us; if you look very closely near the top of the frame, you can see one of the cubs through the leaves.

Both cubs are visible here.

The Girl got this excellent shot of a cub's face.

The Girl also got this shot of the mother and one of the cubs.

There was also a mouse, but who cares?

A broad-headed skink at the false summit.  I didn't bother to crop this one; I think he shows up well enough in full screen (click the picture to view).

I was frequently distracted by large spreads of bluets; they're tiny and pretty, and I like them.  Sue me.

Flat Teddy at our "office" on top of the mountain.

The view from Old Rag's summit.  If you look closely, you can see White Oak Falls past that ridge of rock.

I have no idea what this fungus is, but it looked neat.

For most of my childhood and adolescence, I can remember hunting morels in the woods.  For a long time, Dad had a patch in a stand of trees in his back yard.  Mom would soak our haul in salt water, then cook them in a little butter for dinner.  Honestly, I was always more interested in the treasure hunt of finding the mushrooms in the first place.  Towards the end of the walk, our friend led us to a spot he knew, and we both ended up finding about 7 each.  Two or three of mine were pretty dry, and they were all laughably small, but as I write this, they are soaking in brine.  Dinner tonight is a sausage pizza, and I plan to cook them in the skillet of sausage juice as a side dish or appetizer, even if The Girl is afraid to try them.

MD AT

I spent the first weekend of May hiking the Maryland section of the Appalachian Trail with my cousin's husband, and his dad and uncle.  The earlier generation only hiked with us for the first day; the father just wanted to get on the trail and test some gear he's taking to the Grand Canyon in June, and the uncle's shoes suffered catastrophic failure less than three miles from our starting point.  However, their departure allowed us to make better time for the rest of the trip,and ended up finishing our planned four-day trip in three.

Map data by Google and Spot

We started just north of the Mason-Dixon line, barely over the Pennsylvania border.  Bored thru-hikers sometimes attempt the "Four State Challenge," pushing hard from just south of Harpers Ferry to set foot in West Virginia, Virginia, Maryland, and Pennsylvania in under twenty-four hours.  Our schedule was not nearly so grueling.

We had different opinions on ideal pack size and weight.

Less than three miles into the first day, a complete footwear failure befell one hiker.

A boot malfunction (and consequential ceaseless search for more duct tape or a cobbler) kept us from reaching our intended lunch stop at Raven Rock until three in the afternoon, when we pulled out our more substantial snacks and the last of the cookies I had made two days earlier.

I will take any opportunity to climb a tree.

The Girl and I had hiked Old Rag the previous weekend with a couple friends far more skilled in wildflower identification than we are, and I practiced as much as I could on this hike.  I realized that learning lots of plants now could give my brain something to do next summer as I slog through 2,000 miles of wilderness, eyeballing plants and trees.  I think I did pretty well, though there were a couple I had to look up from my pictures when I returned, and a few that just weren't in my book.

Wild Geranium

We spent our first night in our tents at the Cowall Shelter.  I knew from a previous trip that I loved my new tent (though I have ideas to reduce its weight: there are four guy lines I never use, and on this trip I set it up using only six stakes), but I had other gear to test.  This was the night I decided my Jetboil is going back to the store.  If all you want to do is boil water, it's fantastic, and magically fast, but I can't afford five months worth of pre-packed boil-in-bag backpacker meals.  When I tried water with a little powdered milk, it boiled over quickly because I couldn't reduce the flame or remove the pot from the locking base.  The water stayed hot enough to finish cooking the noodles I added after making a mess of the picnic table, and I had a prefab meal for the next night, but I decided that I needed simmer control on my stove.  This also may put to rest my curiosity about alcohol stoves, though at least in that case I can hold the pot a little above the flame to reduce the heat.

Jack-in-the-Pulpit

I considered taking this bike on GOBA, but it seemed like a lot of weight to pack..

The woods really are lovely, even if neither dark nor deep.

My cozy den, which turned out to be plenty big for me AND my new pack!

I also learned something else I need to fix.  On both nights, it was cold outside my sleeping bag, but hot and clammy inside.  I need to find a better method of climate control.  I have some ideas, but they will cost me.  Still, if they get me through the trip and keep me happy, I can accept that.  My tent was a little pricey, but I'm crazy about it.  My pack was not the cheapest option, but it was the one that fit me best, and on this trip I learned that it's thoroughly fantastic.  It rides well and comfortably, keeps things out of my way but well in reach, and carries exactly what I need with room to spare for more, should the need arise.  If I can find a cooking solution and sleeping option that make me as happy as my tent and pack, I'm golden.

This was my favorite of the several violet varieties we saw.

We left camp just after 7, with two hikers staying behind to drive home.  The trail is often flat and wide in Maryland, and we spent most of the day hiking side-by-side, talking about our respective trip plans.  Mine is documented; he is taking four days to go rim-to-rim in the Grand Canyon with family and a friend next month.  We discussed gear choices, food plans, and what to do in Vegas to use up capital.  The miles slipped quickly past, and I never resorted to playing geography games in my head.

Black Rock Cliff

Redbud tunnel

The first Washington Monument

We had reached our intended overnight spot by 11:30, and knew it would be silly to stay all afternoon.  "Let's go a little further," he kept suggesting, and I kept agreeing.  We soon realized that if we pushed to Rocky Run shelter, it would only be about 17 miles for the day, leaving us 15 miles to finish our trip the next day.  We kept hiking.

I think these are Virginia Bluebells, but I'm not sure.

We came into a clearing behind an old chapel, and I immediately recognized the distinctive shape.  I was certain I'd seen it from the opposite side, driving past on my way to somewhere, and still haven't figured out when  or where I was going.  We took a few pictures outside, then a gentleman came out and offered us a tour.  The Dahlgren Chapel had been built as a family chapel, and consecrated because the wife was friends with the archbishop of Baltimore.  She and her daughters were interred in a crypt there, but it later fell into disrepair, and was at one time used as a barn.  When the Central Maryland Heritage League took over, vines covered the interior walls.  They've made remarkable progress since then, and now make it available for weddings and memorial services.  Check out the website; the chapel's story is fascinating.

We stayed the night at Rocky Run shelter (the new one), and decided to skip the tents to allow for an earlier departure in the morning.  We met a section hiker named FedEx and a young thru-hiker named Sunnie Falls. We confessed that neither of us had trail names yet. It's a little embarrassing.

The original shelter at Rocky Run, with raised tulip beds and a porch swing.

We rose and ate breakfast before either of our bunkmates, and left as FedEx found his way down the ladder from the raised sleeping platform.  We knew he would later pass us, because he had the day before. We had told him over dinner about the lady slippers we had seen, and on Monday he left us large arrows scratched in the dirt to show us that he had found some, too.

May apple bloom

One of FedEx's Lady Slippers

Shortly before lunch we met a group of five ladies out for a day hike.  One of them reminded me of a great aunt who likes to watch the Iditarod.  Another was using the unscrewed handle of a Libby broom as a hiking stick.  All of them were fascinated by our gear when we stopped at the Ed Garvey shelter for lunch.  We had been telling them about our multi-day trip, and one of them asked, "you mean you haven't had a hot meal since Friday night??"  My hiking partner crowed, "I had one this morning!"  They didn't believe us until we showed them our stoves.

Not a mountain goat, but still a goat on the mountain. 

I have no idea what this is.

Our speed dropped a little towards the end of the hike, and the final two miles to Harpers Ferry were on the canal towpath, which was dreadfully boring after the rest of our weekend, but we were still in high spirits.  "If it weren't for my feet," he told me, "I could keep going into Virginia."  The day before I had had a similar epiphany.  We had just left the Dahlgren Backpacker camp, where clean water and hot showers are available, and I let him gain some ground on me, knowing I could catch up later.  I looked around at the forest, aware that I'd been smiling for several minutes with no apparent reason.  My feet hurt, my shoulders were sore, I hadn't really slept the night before, and I was very, very happy.  I was having a great time running myself into the ground.

I knew I'd be ok next year.

Tips for scales

I'm off backpacking this weekend, and it's the trial run for my new pack, a Gregory Savant.  The staff at REI was very helpful in my pack selection, which was more difficult because, as the clerk told me, "your body has a weird shape."

I'm still not really sure what that means, but it boils down to this pack being the only one in the store that worked for me, so I bought it.

I've also applied some things I learned from my last trip, conversations with other backpackers, and a book I grabbed off the clearance table at Barnes & Noble.  Key points:

• Use shoes, not boots.  This weekend I'm using a pair of Brooks Adrenaline trail runners.  I started using them for running when I lived in Oregon, and immediately realized they were magic shoes.  They actually made me look forward to running.  the pair I'm in now has been retired from running use and is just my everyday pair, because nobody in our area sells trail runners (no trails), and I couldn't get a new pair in time.  Trail runners offer better ventilation, and they dry faster than boots.
• Don't take changes of clothes.  The only reason to have extra clothes is to fill your dresser, and nobody backpacks with a dresser.  That space (and weight) can be better occupied by food.
• Take only what you will use.   Admittedly, I still have a little trouble with this one, because I'm not sure yet what I will use.  I have a couple "back-up" snacks in my bag, but I don't have an extra day's worth of food, like I did last time.  On the other hand, last time I don't think I took enough food, so I'm still carrying more food weight on this trip, but I think it will work out better for me, because I have a very clear plan of how all of it will be used.  There's some other gear I know I don't need for this trip (our shelters will have bear poles for food, so I don't need a bear bag and line), but I'm taking it anyway because I want to practice.

What's still troubling is that there are other things I know I will carry next year that will add weight.  I need to figure out ways to drop weight from my pack to accommodate those items (camera charger, rain gear, passenger).  I woke Friday just after five, and couldn't get back to sleep because my head was filled with questions about where I could drop weight from my kit.  I got out of bed and started looking at backpacking quilts online while trying to calculate for the thousandth time the weight of an alcohol stove system compared to my Jetboil.

My base weight for this trip is 18 pounds, according to our possibly-accurate bathroom scale.  If I can get that down to 12, I'd be pretty happy, but my pack is 3 pounds, 9 ounces, and my tent is about 2.5.  That only leaves me about six pounds for cooking, staying warm at night, dryish during the day, and everything else I won't eat or drink.