Three New Hiking Aids for the Season

The sleeping woods, ready to awaken

Yesterday was the first day of spring. The chives are just pushing up in my yard, and the lilac buds are swelling. Spending the day cutting back the clematis, planting greens in the coldframe, and casting some lawn seed in weak areas, I also spent some time thinking about my last camping trip of three nights at Geode State Park. I camped last week for three days, one day with the temperatures up to 70 degrees. This week I'm at home, with rain all night after a windy day, and rain and even a chance of snow forecast for the rest of the week. Such is spring in SE Iowa. 

I have gotten out recently, though, and have managed to get some fresh air and blue skies. One challenge for spring camping, beyond the unpredictability of the weather, is the spring thaw. When the stone-hard soil thaws, it becomes a mire, the frozen moisture in the soil suddenly transformed to a mix of water and earth--and hiking becomes a muck-slog if you're not careful. Hiking the trails becomes a tentative walking, testing the ground with each footstep for stability. Not only is this a muddy mess, but hiking in these conditions can damage the trail and promote erosion. Some trails are better than others, though, so it is possible to hike in the early thaw, one just has to be careful with trail selection. And it's a joy to hike at this time of year because early spring (and even late winter) promises warmer weather yet lacks ticks, chiggers, and mosquitoes . . . and also lacks oppressive humidity. It's a great time to hike; just watch your step. Often I even hike off the trail, picking my way through the brush and using the leaf mulch as a track, the covered forest harder because of the leafy insulation. 

My last couple of hikes I've added three items to my day out: a hiking vest, a walking stick, and a small set of binoculars. I've talked with my wife about these additions for several years, and this season I've finally pulled it all together for the purchases. Having newly geared up for my most recent spring walks, I have to say I'm pleased with these new additions to my hiking equipment.

With vest, trekking pole, and binocular in pocket

Hiking Vest

I have three little knapsacks that work just fine to pack gear around for the day. However, backpacks, even small ones, have some drawbacks: my back can get sweaty, weight can dig the straps into the shoulders, and equipment is not readily accessible. With a backpack, often while hiking with my wife, I'll have her dig into the backpack for some item we need while I stand there, back turned. My larger pack makes a water bottle more accessible, but . . . it's a larger backpack that I'm hefting down the trail. 

Having used the vest a couple of times, I've found that weight is more evenly distributed, the mesh vest cloth allows for air flow, and equipment is much more accessible. I can now place my binoculars in a side pocket for quick and easy access. I bought my vest online--advertised as a hiking or photography vest. It can be used as a fishing vest, although it lacks several fishing-specific accessories that I've seen on other vests. I chose this particular vest because of the mesh construction, which will be cooler in the heat and humidity. The pockets allow me to distribute weight well--and like all the best utility vests, there are a lot of pockets, big and small. 

Naturally if I list the negatives, the most obvious is that I wish the pockets were a bit larger. This particular "negative," though, is probably a rabbit hole I could go into and never find my way out. Will there ever exist a utility vest that wouldn't be better if the pockets were just a tad bit larger? Also, the zipper is on the opposite side from what is usual for me, the "women's" side, which is probably more related to country of origin (China) than any gender issue. During my hikes, I found not zipping the vest was most comfortable. 

Out trekking with the trekking pole

Trekking Poles

Trekking poles come as a pair, but so far I've only hiked using one pole. Especially on my hikes with climbs or descents during this wet thawing spring, I wanted to have a "third leg" to steady myself on slippery ground. I'm not really afraid of falling except that in catching my balance I might wrench my back, which has been a bit touchy lately. Suddenly twisting my body and tensing muscles could cause me to cramp, and I don't want to be out alone on a trail suddenly incapacitated. How I've used the single trekking pole is to plant the pole prior to traversing an unstable section of trail. If a foot slips out, then I can lean on the pole to catch my balance without doing my imitation of a hog on ice.

The poles are adjustable which allows for getting the height just right. Shortening the poles provides for easier storage. An additional use I've put a pole to is that of a "dog stick" when bicycling. Adjusting the trekking pole to about three feet in length and then slipping the end in my bike pannier bag allows me to whip out the pole if a dog gets aggressive. Keeping the end of the stick pointed at the dog's face keeps it from advancing too closely. There were many trekking pole options at REI. I cannot state that they poles I bought are better than others; however, I can say that the ones I bought work well.

Compact, lightweight binoculars

Binoculars

I have an old set of Bushbell binoculars at home that work well; however, they are large, heavy, and awkward. This year my wife and I wanted to take a set of lightweight binoculars with us on our walks so we could more closely observe our forest friends, especially birds. We've constructed two bird feeding areas at our home, and throughout the winter the feeders were constant entertainment as we watched the activities of our avian neighbors. We want to take that curiosity into the woods also, and already it is happening. My last trip to Geode State Park provided the opportunity for me to watch a Barred Owl that perched near my campsite--brought up close by my new pair of binoculars. 

From REI we bought a pair of Vortex Vanquish 8 x 26 binoculars. I'm certainly not an expert when it comes to binoculars. The reviews were good for the Vortex binoculars; however, there were also quite a few other brands available with good reviews. The pair I bought are lightweight, small enough to fit into my vest pocket, and provide a clear field of view and magnification. I've found on my few forays into the woods with the new binoculars that they fit my hand so easily that at times I found myself continuing my hike while keeping the binoculars in one hand, ready for use. 

My experience after having used these three hiking equipment additions a few times is that my outings were easier and safer. I feel it's important to travel light; there's no reason to take off for a day hike unnecessarily loaded down. I'm also old enough now that I'm a bit more careful when I engage in physical activity, especially when I'm on my own. I take my cellphone, not just for photos, but also for emergencies if there's cell reception. I like to take along an emergency kit that includes first aid materials, toilet paper, some food and water, and a knife. Also a map of local trails and a compass are standard gear. Sometimes I include a bird field guide. The addition of vest, hiking stick, and binoculars adds to my pleasure and safety when hiking, and at this time I have not found that these items are burdens that outweigh their utility. This is how I "stroll"; how about you, what gear do you find essential?

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Riding Coal Mine Hollow Drive--What a Mysterious Name!

While on my way by bicycle to Bitternut Lake Campground in Shimek State Forest in southeast Iowa, I bypassed a gravel road peeling off and down to my right, down to shadows and frozen shelves of snow, the road narrow and wet from the thaw as it descended, curving and disappearing behind a line of bare-limbed trees. To the left of the descending gravel was a small sign: "Coal Mine Hollow Drive." That was intriguing because there are coal deposits and old mines in Iowa . . . and, of course, any geographic designation that includes the word "hollow" is imbibed with a good dose of mystery. To the right of the turnoff were other signs: "Caution Road Is Not Serviced," a 15 mph sign, and a sign indicating the forest area allowed hunting. All in all, that road leading down and off around the bend around the ridgeline was a big poke at my curiosity. I had just discovered part of my route for the next day's explorations.

I'm not a real explorer, not like some folks. I enjoy staying home and working in my garden, happy as a hobbit. I'm also not big on charging off down unimproved roads in my car, pulling my camping trailer. I've heard too many stories of the person who had to back a couple of miles on a narrow one-lane road before reaching a turn-around, or executing a thirty-point turn-around in a narrow spot, inching around while worrying about dropping off a narrow shoulder. Myself, I once drove to enter Iowa's Backbone State Park along a narrow, shoulderless road, only to find the entrance gated shut and padlocked. Luckily, there was a small turning circle and I was pulling my tiny trailer, the Green Goddess, so scooping the loop was easy. If I were pulling a 45-foot fifth-wheeler--well, I don't even want to think about it. 

On a bicycle, though, I grow much bolder. I can go off-road if it's not too muddy--or even if it is too muddy, if the necessity dictates. I can jump off and walk with the bike, turn sharply and slalom through trees, pick the bike up and pack it--even fall down and then get up and continue on, which I've done a few times. When I stop and consider my route when on a bicycle, it's usually "How do I do this?" not the terror-stricken "OMG, what do I do now?" I've negotiated around (and over) fallen trees on trails, and the only times I've turned back to retrace my route have included flooding. Even with flooding, I plan to bring river shoes and a towel for some routes that will include water that isn't a raging torrent. 

Before continuing on with the day's ride, I checked Google Maps and realized that my projected bicycle ride to White Oak Campground, another primitive campground in Shimek State Forest, could include a ride on Coal Mine Hollow Drive, which intersected with the route to White Oak. Therefore, my trip to the campground (a return trip) could include a new section of road. Wonderful! I continued on my way to Bitternut Lake with the happy knowledge that the next day's route was a go.

There's something about taking off on an unknown road or trail on a bicycle, and when I turned off down Coal Mine Hollow Drive the next morning, I was just thrilled to hear the crunch of gravel at the road's edge and the lean down into the hollow as I feathered the brakes to keep my speed down on the thawing gravel and mud--also, keeping my speed down kept the mud from flying up too much! The road quickly dropped and then climbed for a series of ridge crossings. I hopped off and walked, easier on the soft, thawing roadbed, and more enjoyable, too. The road was only a little over a mile in length, intersecting with Primrose Road, the improved gravel road that took me on to my day's destination, the primitive White Oak Campground. 

Because Coal Mine Hollow Drive was only one and a tenth miles long, I walked most of the length, slowing down even more than my bicycle speed, savoring the quiet of the forest and the freshness of the forty-degrees air. I was in no hurry because the ride was my purpose, even though I had chosen a destination for the day. After a long winter (although the day and environment still had wintry aspects!), I was just enjoying the chance to move and see new territory. I would like at some point in the future to ask the local rangers if there indeed ever was a coal mine in the area. I want to ride the road sometime during the warmer season to see if there is more wildlife activity. However, I don't think I'll ride the trail during the hunting season, even wearing bright colors!

One interesting feature of the road was that streams were forded two times. The ford was a cement slab over which the water ran when the runoff was sufficient. On my trip on March 3, the creeks' runoff was frozen, so I didn't have to take off my shoes and wade to cross the creeks--just carefully traverse two slabs of ice. I imagine there are times just after big rains when the fords are impassable, and I definitely wouldn't want to be easing down the road with my Airstream Basecamp and then have to figure out how to turn around. Much easier with a bicycle! In the photo above, the stream flows downhill from the right, crossing the road almost at a right angle. Easy-peasy on a bike when the stream is frozen! I met only one vehicle while on the road--a Volvo station wagon, which would have been a perfect opportunity for Volvo to promote the rugged burliness of its brand. 

After crossing the two creeks, the road generally climbed up to its terminus with Primrose Road, moving from deciduous forest to conifers. Although conifers are not uncommon in Iowa, especially juniper, these tall pines were a treat, so I stopped several times to enjoy the sight and smell of the evergreens. I was hoping for the sight of some deer crashing through the underbrush, but no such luck on this day's ride. Most likely, the deer were more in the prairie areas where there was more sunlight and feed. I'd have to see when I reached the prairie area near my campground destination.

Even though Coal Mine Hollow Drive through Shimek State Forest was a wonderful ride and walk, it's a small parcel of forest compared to the great national forests. However, I have to catch my enjoyment and moments in nature where I can, and my time on this short, undeveloped road was a pleasure--a day out on my bicycle in late winter, out among the trees and silence. When I arrived at Primrose Road, I happily continued on my way, passing farms with their outbuildings and barns, cattle lots where the steers gamboled with me alongside the fence, and browns and yellows of fallow fields awaiting spring. Those sights were enjoyable too, as was the continuing ride. However, I cherish that short excursion onto a new road, just soaking up the moments, a bit of quiet and a bit of nature--as always a reminder of the beauty of the world and the awakening world, quickening from its long winter.

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Hiking a Familiar Trail Is Spending Time with a Friend

Swimming area

We have to be careful walking a trail when a late-winter thaw is upon us. Soil transforms to a sticky gumbo, and what is packed sandstone gravel in the dry season becomes a semi-gelatinous jambalaya of chert and dirt. With my hiking stick, though, and a more careful consideration of where to put my feet, hiking the two-mile path that circles Indian Lake in southeast Iowa was my most recent outdoor adventure. Paying close attention to the weather forecast, I was delighted to see that mid-week during the first week of March was predicted to have warm, clear weather with temperature highs from the forties to the sixties. Off to Indian Lake Park, near Farmington, Iowa!

Marshy section prior to meadows

Spending three nights at the lake's city-owned campground, I was looking forward to my first full day there to include a walk around the lake. It's a great walk and also an easy walk, much of it a wide sedimentary stone path that maintains a beautiful perspective of the placid lake. The trail includes three main presentations: the front area of campground, lodge, and swimming hole; the backside of the lake which includes lake view and woods; and then the lower end of the lake with marsh and meadow, where the graveled trail becomes a mowed grass pathway. The trail also includes enough change in elevation to provide variety with some steep but short hills and some low areas with running water at the right time of season.

Crossing the dam

My wife and I bought our first pair of collapsible trekking poles this last December, and this was my first chance to hike with them--or actually just one, since I didn't feel that I needed two. Having one pole would provide some extra support and steadiness if I slipped on the thawing trail, yet I wouldn't have to manage both poles and have both hands full. Since the trail was so malleable, the stick did come in handy, providing an anchor for ascents or descents when what appeared to be solid ground just slipped sideways. There were times, though when I just carried the pole, not using it for walking, and I was happy to discover that the next day while bike riding, I was able to collapse the pole about a third and then have the pole function as a dog stick if I needed to keep off some territorial canine.

Forward campground--gravel and drier

For whatever reason, I usually walk the lake in a clockwise direction, which allows me to move through the developed area first, then to enjoy the woods and lake, and finally to walk the easier path along the lower end of the lake, ending with the upper-meadow experience of several ancient white oaks that are over two hundred years old. Depending on where I'm camping, then I reach the campground area and walk to my trailer. This trip, I parked in the campground closest to the entrance because it was the driest and least muddy. Even though there is no view of the lake from the front campground, I really enjoyed keeping myself and the camper out of the mud. 

White Oak in the upper meadow

The trail around the lake is a stroll with an long-time friend. There's a lot that is familiar and comfortable--a bench and vista, the hike up a steep hill from a creek crossing, a pocket of meadow on the saddle of a hill, the drop back down to another ravine bottom with its rivulet of snow-melt. I also always sit on a bench at the end of the hike and commune for a time with the ancient, gnarled white oaks, stark and gray at this time of year, sentinels of the passing years that have witnessed so much silence and birdsong. The trail also provides something new each trek, whether it's a bluejay flashing color among the bare limbs of maple, oak, and sycamore, or whether it's the silent gaze of a doe, wary yet curious, on the hillside. During the right time of year, such as this hike, the background melody of running water splashing over stone downhill to the lake also adds to the uniqueness of the hike, always changing its pitch and timbre, and sometimes not even there, the moisture sleeping in the soil.

What a wonderful late-morning hike! I could feel the sun on my face giving me a bit of color, a welcome warmth after the drear cold of winter. I could feel I was out of shape but still fully capable of this easy hike. I was inspired to get out more, hopeful of better weather to come, and nourished by the natural world that always invites one to be a part of the unity, the web of life and existence. It's like seeing someone you know well, someone you've known your entire life, and then realizing it's your reflection on the still waters of the lake. Hello, old friend, walk with me a while. I've forgotten what good company you are, but now I remember; and that sigh I hear from you is the wind crossing the lake, stirring the juniper trees, wind as much my breath as yours, for we are one, now and forever.

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