Sunfish Pond/ Delaware Water Gap

My dad approached me and wanted us to plan a backpacking trip with him and his friend Tim, who just happens to be the father of our good friend Chelsey. So, Andrew and I picked a hike that would suit us, Alex and Chelsey, and my dad and Tim. We wanted a solid hike that would give great vistas but without the too strenuous a climb; we didn’t want to deter our friends from future trips! Andrew had a great pick: a loop around the Sunfish Pond. This rather large body of water is located in the Delaware Water Gap area on the New Jersey side of the river. It just happened to be the first hike that his dad had taken us on 2 ½ years ago. We haven’t stopped hiking since, so we figured it would be a good choice for them. Andrew even tailored it further to incorporate a cool vista that we hadn’t had the chance to check out our previous time. We set up the meeting time at my parent’s house for about 8 in the morning on Saturday. We then packed out gear into the two vehicles and were on our way. We were at the trail by 11. We saw a lot more cars in the parking lot than was anticipated. But a good hike will draw the crowds, especially with picture perfect weather and a shorter distance. We honestly were never on the trail with inexperienced hikers so we were unsure what to expect. We took to the trail and only had to make one stop to adjust equipment. We soon were half way and decided to make lunch. Only then did we find out that my dad had basically brought a “grocery store” of food. It was great how he just kept pulling different cheeses, cookies, and sardines out of his food bag to share. The trail was rocky but in about 2 hours of hiking at a steady 2.5 mph we were at the campsite by 3. We decided to hike a little further since it was so early and go see the pond. It was beautiful. We just sat and enjoyed the view. We then hiked up the side ledge and found a camping spot. We started setting our stuff down when a ranger came up the trail. He strictly said that there was no camping allowed so we made our way back to the designated campsites. We were trying to choose a good site among the area when that same ranger came up to us and made it clear that no campfires are allowed. It was getting chilly and that was something we had been looking forward to doing; it was pretty ridiculous. We were sure he wouldn’t check up on us though, so we still had the thought in the back of our minds to make one. We selected a large camping area and started the set up process. We all had our tents up, or in my dad’s case a hammock hung, in about 45 minutes. It was great seeing how fast Alex and Chelsey were getting into the whole experience with us! We were in the process of gathering stones and logs to sit on and started playing a card game. We were still thinking about starting a fire at some point when the already infamous ranger came by and made it clear again that no fires would be allowed. It was dark at this point and we all had on all our layers and still a bit chilly. So we were a little angry at the guy for not letting us get warm. He even went as far as saying, “Some people just can’t get away from the tradition of making a camp fire” as he was walking away from us… pretty weird. We finished out the night getting somewhat warm eating some chili. We hung up our food (to deter bears) and hit our sleeping bags. The night went by quickly and we all stayed pretty warm. Over breakfast the next morning we decided that finishing the loop and enjoying a vista would be a great ending to the weekend. It was a few extra miles but well worth it. We definitely made the right decision. The view of the Delaware water gap was just beautiful. We stayed there for awhile for the great photo opportunity and then made our way down the steep trail. We had an encounter with a snake, but it was very docile when comparing it to the last snake we saw on the BFT, although plenty big. The cooler weather seems to calm these reptiles down. We reached the bottom of the mountain and our cars were in sight. Tim and my Dad took one car on the fast route home. We drove Alex and Chelsey home and stopped at subway on the way to complete a great hiking weekend with good friends!!

Rancher for a Weekend at Clarks Horse Farm

The weekend had finally come. We were going to Jack Clarks Ranch with Uncle Jim and Aunt Emmy, my sister, mom and dad! I got everything packed in the car before Andrew got home from work. We left by 8:45 to pick up Brenna along the way. By 11 o’clock, after pulling into many wrong driveways, we were unpacked and comfortable in Jack’s basement apartment. There was thousands of dollars of taxidermy all over the walls. Bear, antelope, dozens of deer, small game, wolves, and turkeys…even a mountain lion! Uncle Jim introduced us to Jack, the hunter extraordinaire, and we planned out the next day before retiring to bed by 1. In the morning, we had some great homemade baked oatmeal and were off for the cattle round up by 8. My dad participated in this, although he hasn’t ridden horses in years. In order to get the needed horses, we took the gator out onto some of his 1,000 acre pasture land and watched as a group of 30 {he has 125} horses were gathered for the riders. They chose 5 and the rest went back out into the pasture. We brushed them and saddled up before transporting them over to where the round up would take place. It was amazing to see the 5 horse and riders gallop down into the valley and funnel the herd up towards us. Once they were gated in, the calves were separated from the heifers by the riders. The heifers were then placed in a gated pen which had different sections. The last section had a chute, where the vet stood and would check to see how far along their pregnancies were. Research this process if you do not know how it’s done. The doc has his entire arm in the rear end of a cow. If they were not pregnant, they were labeled “open” by painting a big “o” on either side of the back haunches. It was rainy and cold but the sight was too interesting to miss. We stood bundled up and watched this process for almost 2 hours. Jack then treated us to a warm lunch of soup and sandwiches at the local diner. Best crab soup ever! After the meal we rode the horses indoors because it was pouring. It was amazing that these beautiful creatures had just been out in the pasture {he does not keep them in a barn} but could become so tame. What an experience to be a part of. We rode for a couple hours. Jack then made the announcement that he had a calf to deliver to a certified Angus beef outfit. It was about 45 minute drive and Andrew and I rode in the truck pulling the trailer with the calf in it. You could hear it along the way. The cattle farm was enormous and we got a full tour of it all. Jack’s son happened to work there and gave us a backstage look at the operation. We also learned that one calf, if it had enough seamen to breed 400 heifers, is worth over one hundred thousand dollars. We finished the hour tour and made our way back to the house. We showered and settled in for the evening. We had great homemade subs and then all relaxed by the big marble fireplace in Jack’s living room. He also had an excellent automatic massage chair. By 11 o’clock we were all in bed. We were woken up at 9 on Sunday morning with plans to go to a nearby homestead to gather fresh eggs for breakfast. The lady who owned it offered a ride on her gator to round up her 4 horses and the cutest little mini donkey. The donkey didn’t even reach the bottom of the horses’ stomach. We broke the ride into guys and girls. The girls went first and we had the opportunity to see the horses grazing near her pond then come toward us. We headed back down the hill. One of the horses was galloping towards us and passed only 5 feet from the tailgate we sat on. It was incredible! The guys went on their trip and we had a tour of the hen house. When the gator returned we left to go back to the house to have breakfast. Jack made us a great scrambled egg dish and toast. We then were told to head back to the pasture where we would handle colts for the first time. They had to switch herds from pasture to pasture so that the correct colts could be placed into the gated chutes. We watched as we were used as a gate across the road and bridged to pastures together so that the horses could not get away in the process. Now, the colts and mares were where they needed to be. We were instructed to “love on” the colts as they were placed in the gates areas. This took some getting used to. We were to rub the hair where the saddle would be placed to get it ready for the feel of a saddle. The colts were very cautious of our hands at first and try to buck up and kick. But, after 10 minutes, they learned that our soft touch wouldn’t hurt them. The next step was to let the colt out of the gate and “halter break” them. The colts were very strong and the mare would get uncomfortable at seeing her colt fight. Andrew, Dad and Aunt Emmy tried their hands at it. What a crazy thing to witness. They were being dragged around; it looked like mud skiing! The colt eventually settled down and accepted the slight instruction from the bridal. The process would need to be done for weeks until they were ready to be saddle ridden. After the excitement with the colts, we had a chance to ride in the ring again. Later, Jack told us his plans of taking us up the mountain (Buchannan state forest) to tour the beautiful vistas. From there he drove us to another farm to ride 2 gators through hundreds of acres of cattle. It was incredible how much land he owned. We even saw 2 long horn steer. We got back to Jack’s and had one last meal for homemade subs. Packing up and thanking Jack for a once in a life time experience, we were on the road home again.

Black Forest Trail

The Black Forest Trail is a 42 mile loop trail in north central PA located near Pine Creek Gorge (PA Grand Canyon) and nearby the West Rim Trail (see our older blog post). It has almost constant elevation changes, but rewards your efforts with countless vistas. The trail starts at a pine plantation in Slate Run and follows an old railroad grade. Narrow-gauge railroads were first used in the Pine Creek area to bring timber to local sawmills. There are also several later lines that were used for carrying slate, shale, flagstone and coal from these valleys. After a few miles descending and ascending gently, the trail became a dug out footpath that eventually led us through an old flagstone quarry. We enjoyed the expansive views of the valley and followed the trail along switchbacks through huge walls of stone. The trail ascended steeper and later passed through another, but smaller, quarry. After gaining about 1000 feet the trail stayed mostly level for most of the afternoon. We followed the ridgeline through mixed forest for 5 miles as the path began to drop into Red Run. We reached the stream and followed alongside for a few more miles before setting up camp. All of our hikes lately have involved camping at higher elevations, with little or no water. It was nice to finally have limitless water to cook and wash up with. As we were setting up, thunder was rolling in although the skies were clear. Being in a valley hid the darkening clouds from us. I was able to get a fire, although everything was very damp while Britt got dinner going. After a meal full of delicious rice, beans and chicken (lots of protein), the rain finally started to fall. It only got heavier as the night went on. We awoke several times during the night to lightning and thunder from a storm that seemed to be parked on top of us. Thankfully, it was barely a drizzle when we woke up and packed our things. A nice breakfast before hitting the trail and we were off. Day one was relatively short at 7.2 miles, mostly because of a late start. We knew we had to pick up the pace and cover ground from then on. The day started with a steep climb out of the hollow and kept climbing for mile after mile. Funny how miles seem so much shorter in a car! After ascending for almost the entire morning we topped out. As we continued walking and catching our breath, I glanced down to realize I was inches away from a large rattlesnake! I let out a loud yelp and Brittany lunged backwards with a scream. After composing myself I shot a video and gave it a moment get off the trail. It finally disappeared, but only shortly. A few paces down the trail it reappeared from a thick batch of Rhododendrons and refused to leave our path. It was impossible to go around due to the thick bush, and throwing rocks did nothing to scare off the snake. Instead it became aggressive. Eventually, I threw a rock at its head and finished him off. I hate to kill anything, but it was making itself a serious situation. After that ordeal, we still had lots of miles to cover for the day. We watched our feet much more closely as we followed winding trails though thick mountain laurel, pine and old hardwood areas. Then several more vistas; so many that I actually stopped taking pictures. A few stretches followed old logging roads, but thankfully hardly more than a few hundred feet. At one mile point we passed a few old leased camps. Beginning in 1913, quarter-acre, permanent camp sites could be leased for 10 year periods. There are still 4500 leased camp sites in the PA State Forest System. The trail continues along a section once used by the Tidewater Pipeline Co. when they were trying to cut into Rockefeller’s Standard Oil Co. monopoly. Under our feet, the area continues to be used, but now for fiber optic communications. After this stretch came my favorite section- the few miles through open grassland on the ridge above the Dyer Branch stream. Eventually, we spent the night near a section of this stream. This time, the rain didn’t hold off quite as long. It was thundering before we even made it to camp. We had our tent set up just before the first water fell. This storm unfortunately would not pass for the remainder of the hike. We quickly ate dinner and stayed as dry as possible under our shelter. It stayed dry except for a few leaks, largely due to the fact that our tent has been in constant use for over a decade. We did our best to sleep and woke in the morning to a downpour. Trying to keep our things dry became pointless and we packed up. After evaluating maps and plans, we decided to cut off a few miles, and another night under relentless rain by taking a shortcut. We would be in our car by this night. In times like these, it’s worth the investment in a good map. The trail that would serve this purpose turned out to be the Baldwin Gas Line Trail. This is a very interesting trail of its own accord. Our landmark to turn off the BFT and onto this route was an old stone shelter with a metal roof. It was once the pump house for water used to cool engines on the Tidewater Oil line in the 1880’s. It took about 2 miles on this path before rejoining the BFT and saving us about 10 miles. At this point it was about lunchtime and the rain had only gotten heavier. The remaining miles to the car were strenuous, but we were motivated. At one point we were walking on a carpet of pine needles and caught a brief glimpse of a beautiful white owl. The moment was gone before we could snap a picture. As we climbed and descended, and climbed again, I pondered to myself how it is possible for clouds to contain this much hellish rain and continue to float in-air. Thankfully, some of the most interesting sights were at the end of the trail. We made our final descent down the spine of a very exposed ridge. The relentless rain and humidity developed a thick fog throughout the valley, and made for some interesting photographs. Anticipation made the miles seem longer as we approached the car. Unfortunately, we missed one of our final turns and walked the remaining distancing the torrential down pour on what we recognized to be the road we drove in on. The rain had drenched everything, even my change of clothes I was planning to drive home and stop for dinner in. We had few options but thankfully a clerk at the local general store offered to dry my gear in their personal dryer. After putting on dry clothes we felt human again. And dinner never tasted so good. This was one of those trips that are better as a story told than an actual experience. We have been consistently lucky with the weather on past trips, it couldn’t last forever. Enjoy this video...

Hiking Camel's Hump in Vermont's Green Mountains

Waubanaukee Indians first named it "Tah-wak-be-dee-ee-wadso" or Saddle Mountain. Samuel de Champlain's explorers in the 1600's called it "lion couchant" or “the Sleeping Lion”. The name "Camel's Rump" was used on a historical map by Ira Allen in 1798, and this became "Camel's Hump" in 1830. The Park came about as an original gift of 1000 acres including the summit from Colonel Joseph Battell, who originally bought Camel's Hump to preserve the view of the mountain from his home. In 1911, care of the mountain was entrusted to the State Foresters who managed with the aim to keep it in a primitive state according to Battell's wish. The state fought proposed intrusions by communications towers and ski resorts until the summit's Natural Area was officially set aside. In 1969, special legislation was passed to turn the roughly 20,000 acres on and around the mountain into Camel's Hump State Park. Camel's Hump now remains one of the few undeveloped peaks among the mountains of Vermont. We were excited to check it out and happy to have my brother Adam, and recent college graduate, along for the trip. It was also great to be able to split up the driving. We travelled overnight and arrived in the light of the early morning to see the beautiful landscape that is Vermont. We discovered that the record winter snowfall and spring rain had eroded many of the access roads we needed to reach our trailhead. This state park is a popular destination, and the park service was diligent in making accommodations for the ruined roads. We parked in a “winter” parking lot about a half mile from where we had planned- not bad. We hiked the distance over the closed roads. They definitely were impassable; there were huge trenches eroded all around us. We passed a plaque commemorating the unexplained crash of an Air Force B-24 Liberator Bomber on October 16, 1944. It killed nine crewmen. The Army searched on the wrong side of the mountain for the wreckage, but a group of local teenagers saved the life of the sole survivor on the other side. This man lost his hands and feet to frostbite. Soon enough we were on Monroe Trail heading up the eastern side of the mountain. I could tell that I was well rested from being able to sleep in the car, and that our legs have gotten stronger. We hiked for several hours before feeling like we needed a breather. The mountain was in a heavy fog, and the air was humid. All of the mist made it seem as though we were walking on the set of a movie. The trail climbed at a steep and steady grade. Much of the path had standing water, or as was more often the case, running water. Most of the area has only a thin layer of soil, and most of our travelling was across smooth, slick rocks. Hikes like these are made much more enjoyable by having nice gear. Our feet stayed dry, and so our spirits stayed up. Near the summit we were passed by the only other hiker we saw. He was a trail keeper for the Green Mountains Club who recently took on the job. He seemed to like us and offered to let us stay at a GMC lodge (actually a log shelter) without paying the usual 5 bucks per person. We decided to take him up on that offer, changing our route off the summit to reach the place. We broke above tree line and were eventually at the summit. The views were still hidden in the thick fog and clouds. In fact, visibility was only about 15 feet. But the eerie visibility was overshadowed by the whipping winds. The gusts much have been over 50 mph. We were blown off our feet several times thanks to the slick footing and our packs acting as sails. We had charged up the mountain, and now decided we had plenty of time to wait and hope that the clouds cleared out. We made ourselves as comfy as we could and ate lunch. Eventually the views could be seen through the patches of cloud, and they were awesome! We got our photo-ops out of the way and headed onward down the south face of the mountain. This route is a section of the 273 mile long “Long Trail” that is the oldest long-distance trail in the United States. The Long Trail follows the main ridge of the Green Mountains from the Massachusetts-Vermont line to the Canadian border as it crosses Vermont's highest peaks. It was the inspiration for the Appalachian Trail, which coincides with it for one hundred miles in the southern third of the state. Anyhow, this southern face gives the peak its iconic look and makes for a heart pounding descent. We dropped down the entire elevation in under a half mile while white knuckling over some of the most exposed climbing we have ever seen. Every few steps, I would pause and appreciate how ridiculous of a place we were in. we passed one other hiker, and he was ascending this route- a safer choice. In his arms was a terrified dog that couldn’t go any further. We finally reached the southern base that rested on a range and still towered over the valley. The view looking back up the ridge was unreal. It is truly a unique looking mountain. A storm was moving in and we tried to make good time. We covered several miles and crossed several intersecting trails before arriving at the door of our residence for the night- just as a rain picked up. The place was a thing of beauty. It was simple and small, but had tons of sleeping room, a dinner table, a stocked bookshelf, and even an outdoor compost privy! We quickly filtered water in the rain and rinsed off in the stream. We ate dinner to the sound of rain on the metal roof, and thunder moving closer. We couldn’t help but take a nap- one that was interrupted by what sounded like a cannonball was shot through the front door. We could see that lightening was coming down in bolts on the summit. Over the course of the night the storm reached a fever pitch. It was worse than any I have seen, even when living in Kansas. It reminded me of the story of Martin Luther’s conversion experience. Suddenly it seemed less silly. In the morning, the woods looked like they took a beating. After packing up, we walked over rivers that were a trail the day before. Trees had fallen everywhere. We had made such good distance earlier that now we didn’t have much left to cover. A few hours later we were at our car just after lunchtime. This hike was one of the most enjoyable thanks to stronger legs, nicer gear, good company, and the kindness of a Green Mountain Club trail keeper. Vermont is beautiful!!!

The Catskills

We love New York. When it comes to parks and wilderness management, they do things right. Instead of making resorts out of every available location, they direct the budget to maintaining trails and protecting land. They also don't require permits and tedious paperwork for backpackers. We had a great experience hiking the Adirondacks in the fall. We couldn't wait to return to the state and check out the smaller, more southern range: the Catskills. We planned an out -and-back hike over several of the area's most popular mountains. One of them is the highest in the range- Slide Mountain. The drive went fast, and we've never had such an easy time finding a trailhead. I've had more trouble finding a McDonald's. It was nice to start a hike free from the frustration that normally follows trying to find a place. We got started hiking and crossed a few streams right off. They were clearly in flood stage from the past several days of rain. The trails were typical northeast business- steep, rocky, and washed out. We spent most of the day climbing up Slide Mt. Towards the top, the trail became snow covered. It was considerably colder than when we had started, and the thick pine trees kept the temperatures low enough. We found a rock outcrop with beautiful views of Giant Ledge and Panther Mountain (another popular area to hike). We sat down for a quick meal and climbed a fallen tree for even better views. Then it was onto the last stretch of snowy trail before we topped out. The only official marker on the summit was the concrete foundation of an old sign long removed. Slightly ahead and downhill, the trail opened into a large clearing. There we met and chatted with some other hikers. They all were just out for the day, with the exception of one gentleman ending a several day trek at the trailhead where we started. In a ledge below the clearing was a plaque. It was in memory of the writer John Borroughs. It described how he enjoyed and frequently spent nights on this remote mountain. Many of his writings take place in this area as well. It was time to make distance before we ran out of daylight. Our map and other hikers warned us that the trail ahead dropped near vertically. They were right. There was a constant barrage of sketchy ledges and rock walls to descend. On a couple occasions we had to lower our gear down ahead of us. After losing over a thousand feet of elevation in a third of a mile, we found an incredible campsite. We were still at a decent height, and in the middle of the descent. This campsite had such a view that we ditched our original plans to camp further ahead, where things leveled off. From this spot you could clearly see the mountains we were planning to climb the following day- Cornell and Wittenburg. We set up camp and appreciated the sunset, while things became chilly. We attempted to make a fire, but despite our best efforts, and to the shame of boyscouts everywhere, we couldn't keep it burning. Everything was just too damp to take a spark. It was probably a good thing anyhow because later we learned that no open fires are permitted above 3500 feet. We kept warm by cooking dinner (rice with chicken and broccoli) and hopped in the tent. Sleep comes quick after a day like that and a good dinner, plus a nice down sleeping bag (shout out to P. Andy). We woke up to the sun rising through the tent vestibule. It was Sunday morning, and I laughed to myself thinking that this was more spiritual of an experience than could ever be found in a pew. We skipped a warm breakfast for a cold one in a effort to make good time. Things picked up right where they left off with the tense down-climbing. Things finally started leveling off and we passed the campsite we had originally planned on. It was a sweet one, but we got the better deal for sure. The trail became soft with pine needles underfoot and stayed that way until the summit of Cornell. This was a wooded mountain with few views. There was one, however, that was spectacular. From a certain rock outcrop you could get an eyeful of Ashoktan Reservoir. We would see it in even more dramatic fashion from our next stop- Wittenburg. It took about an hour before we walked onto the bald summit. There was about 50 yards of open grass and boulders to enjoy, if you could take your eyes off of the views. This took the cake as my favorite hiking destination to date. We took our time and had a meal while watching hawks fly below. It was quite a job to peel myself away from there, knowing that we would have to hike up the walls on Slide. Nevertheless, we made good time and distance, beating the setting sun back to our vehicle. Of all the hikes we have done, this is one that I would most recommend to someone looking for a challenge, and a great payoff.

Assateague Island

Assateague Island is a barrier island off the coast of Virginia and Maryland. At one time it was connected to Ocean City, Maryland. Now, it is separated by an inlet. Assateague Island is unique for many reasons, but it is mostly known as being one of the few places in the United States where you can see wild horses. The horses have been separated into two herds divided by a fence at the state line. The wild horses on the island are descendants of domestic animals. There are many opinions about how the horses originally arrived.The most intersting theory is that the original horses were survivors of a shipwreck off the coast. However, no records have confirmed the shipwreck story. Another possibility is that the the horses were transported to the island by mainland owners during the late 17th century in an effort to avoid fencing laws and livestock taxes. This was the story endorsed on the national park literature. Regardless of how they arrived on the island, the horses have survived scorching heat, legendary mosquitoes, stormy weather and a lack of food. Nowadays, the National Park Service manages the Maryland herd, while the Chincoteague Volunteer Fire Company owns and manages the Virginia herd.
Management of the island itself is shared by the Chicoteague Natgional Wildlife Refuge, the National Park Service, and the Fish and Wildlife Refuge. Another interesting part of the history of the island are the shipwrecks it has seen. As coastal trade developed in the late 1800s and more ships traveled through the area, the number of shipwrecks increased. Many ships were wrecked because of difficulty of navigating the unpredictable offshore sandbars. One of the most famous shipwrecks involved President Benjamin Harrison. His official yacht ran aground a little more than 75 yards from the shore. While no one was killed, the ship that had been the official yacht of Presidents Hayes, Garfield, Arthur, Cleveland and Harrison was damaged beyond repair. Island residents often stripped the wrecked ships of their cargo. Although looting the ships was against the law, it was extremely difficult to enforce. New shipwreck sites are still discovered when storms blow through the area. Driving in the early morning made our time on the road a breeze. We arrived just as the park opened. This in itself was a relief since the government's nonsense with an undecided budget almost closed national parks across the country. We immediately spotted horses on either side of the road. It seems they have learned where best to meet humans giving out free food. We drove carefully through carefully as horses walked up the meet us. We checked in with the park office to get the necessary backcountry permit. We were greeted by a super stoned, hairy, amazing human being. He was full of grusome advice, like "don't go out there in the summer, you'll be drained of your blood in no time" (referring to mosquitos). I managed to keep a straight face and headed off with some maps and information. As soon as we started hiking, we realized how unique of an experience this really was. Finding any undeveloped coastline nowadays is nearly impossible.
Although we were only an hour's drive from ocean city, things felt pretty isolated. There wasn't a traditional trail with painted blazes and cairns- the trail simply followed the beach. There are several backcountry camping areas down the length of the island, alternating between oceanside and bayside sites. We picked an oceanside destination, at a shorter distance than usual. We intended the weekend to be a relaxing one, and we knew that walking in the soft sand, with backpacks, would be tiring. The weather turned from overcast to sunny and beautiful just as we were setting out. The blue skies, black and white swirling sand, and sound of the surf made for a tranquil experience. I must have become a little too relaxed- several times I snapped out of a daydream to find my feet in the water. We passed a few fisherman as we hiked through the morning. We easily found our campsite by turning of the beach at a designated milage marker. it was still relatively early, and we happily set up camp. Knowing that you aren't racing the setting sun makes the process more enjoyable. After we had finished, Britt and I decided to explore the island. We wondered if we could make it through the thick marsh and woods to the bayside of the island. Dad hung around camp to fend off horses and read a book. We made it to an inlet on the inner coast by following horse tracks that were blanketed by large piles of manure. No wonder the island is so densely covered in greenery, it's been pummeled with fertilizer for hundreds of years. We headed back for camp and passed a well preserved horse/ large deer skeleton. Once back, an early dinner and bedtime completed fulfilled our quota for relaxation. Before going to sleep I set out a pile of trail mix to lure in the horses. Britt got a kick out of that. If any horses came, I'm sure I slept through it. It seems they prefer the easy handouts from drivers by. If anyone is planning on hiking in this area in the near future, shoot me an email for some helpful directions and pointers.

West Virginia

We’ve begun to see a pattern. The worse the roads are heading to our hike, plus the sketchier the locals seem, the better the hike turns out to be. In accordance with this rule, our trip was destined to be an awesome one… Dolly Sods wilderness is located in West Virginia, surrounded by the Monongahela National Forrest. It was named after a German Pioneer family (spelled Dahle) who had livestock that grazed on the open, grassy hills, called sods. The area suffered from early logging and forest fires, but has recovered to form an interesting landscape. Hiking this area, you will discover that there are bogs on top of these mountains- very unusual. In World War 2, this area was used for testing artillery and airborne bombings. Many signs in this forest indicate precautions to take when finding live rounds. We were interested in a trail winding around Blackbird Knob. We reached the road that led to the trailhead, but it was closed. We took a long detour in an effort to enter the area from another route. That too was gated off. A few other people nearby noted that it was typical to see the road closed during winter, but it’s always been open by March. We studied a map and realized that it would be an extra five miles of hiking, each way, to reach the original start we had expected. We had driven too far to turn back. We got our packs out and set out down the old access road following the ridgeline. After an hour or so, we saw a small sign indicating a vista ahead. For some reason, I decided to check it out, even though we were in a hurry to make good distance. We trekked up an outcrop and immediately I noticed a tent. It was below us, in the shrubs below the bluff. I climbed down, and was surprised to be in waist-deep snow. The tent was mostly covered in snow as well, and took a few minutes to dig out. Inside, I found a backpack, sleeping bag, clothes, maps, food, a scented candle and tea lights (romantic night, eh?), and most surprisingly- a clip of 9mm ammunition. I searched everything for identification, but there was none. The strangeness of finding all these things began to set in. All the gear inside the tent would have kept in from blowing away. The maps inside indicated that the hiker’s car was almost 2 days away, and no hiker would leave without all their gear at this distance. More strange will was that 9mm are not what a hunter/hiker would carry. I pulled out my cell phone but had no service. Calling 911 went through anyhow. I described what I found. The dispatcher said a team of state police would be on the way shortly. We needed to stay nearby, and aborted our hike altogether. We explored the nearby area and found an ideal campsite within sight of the access road. As we set up camp, made dinner, and hung out, the sun had set. No policeman came. It made me angry to think that if it was my stuff lying on the side of that cliff, the officials wouldn’t be very interested. I already hold a low opinion of policeman-this didn’t help. We settled into our tent, making conversation and playing cards. It didn’t do much to stifle our thoughts from wandering. Was there a dead body under all that snow? Where was the 9mm the ammo belonged to? Still no policeman. That figures. Then in the middle of the night, we were further spooked. What sounded like fireworks were exploding nearby. I quickly tried to think who could be so stupid. After all, we were in the middle of an artillery testing field. There were no cars parked at either end of the access road. The only people we had seen left hours ago. The closest town was over an hour away. We decided we had no reason to stay. The state slogan “Wild and Wonderful” was a smirking understatement. It took all of five minutes for us to be packed up and on the path back to our car. We couldn’t find a reason to stay after everything so far. I’m sure we will give the state another chance, but for now, we’ve seen enough of West Virginia.