Post-Mortem of an Abandoned Hike

While this is going to get filed under 'Trip Reports', what the following account amounts to is an autopsy of a failed trip. Now, before you come down on me here, by failed trip I am not dogging on myself... I am admitting that some (many?) of my plans and assumptions about this trip directly resulted in my need to abort it, and so I choose to look at this as a learning experience,

I've been planning to do the Tecumseh Trail for about 8 months. My target date was last week, but due to a new initiative at work, I had to reschedule for this week. That was both a curse (higher temps this week over last) and a blessing. I probably would have made it further along the hike before I had realized I was in trouble if I had went last week, which would have made bailing out that much harder.

Let's start with what went right.

1) I had a reasonable trip plan in place for someone new to the distance hiking bit. I had given myself the grace to do 8 miles to 14 miles on day 1, and as few as 6 on day 2, working up to 12 on day 3, and 12 on day 4. I still think those mileage goals were reasonable given my past performance in hiking, and I stand by those choices in the planning stage.

2) I was well informed about trail and weather conditions. Perhaps too well informed. Much of my critical thinking was put into weather and trail condition mitigation, and it may have distracted me from my focus on other logistics. That said, nothing was really a surprise to me when I encountered it.

3) I was alert enough to listen to my body and take stock of my circumstances and to have the guts to call it when I was confronted with the truth that continuing on was a bad idea. It's incredibly hard to be building up to doing something big like this, telling your friends, family, and co-workers, and then decide to bail about 5 miles in, but that's exactly what I had to do.

Trail Closed... no Detour Posted

Let's look at the trip itself...

After getting ourselves locked out of the house with no keys and delaying arrival at the trail head by an hour and a half, we arrived at the Orcutt Road Trailhead to discover signage saying that the trail was closed. This was a bit of a surprise, since the sign provided no redirection, as had been given on the phone when I had spoken to the Morgan-Monroe office the previous week. Given the way that cars were speeding down Forest Road, the idea of road walking down to the Low Gap Trailhead was not at all appealing, so we drove down to that trailhead, where the kids and the wife dropped me off, presumably for the better part of a week.

About a half mile or so in, an individual started to overtake me. He asked me where I was heading, which immediately started a conversation. The individual was a geologist who was most interested in talking to me about glaciation, John Muir, and many other topics. I had to pick up my pace to keep up, and he wasn't even breaking a sweat. This was my first sign of an issue. I have always had heat issues (can't stand it), but it was at some point just before the sharp left hand turn on the Rock Shelter portion of the trail where I was last dry... by the time I made it to Rock Shelter, I was soaked. I had been hiking for, perhaps, all of 30-45 minutes. I used the shelter as my excuse to separate from the geologist whose pace I could never have matched, and stop for a bit.

At Rock Shelter I ate half my sandwich and carrots, had some water, and went to tie my boots which had already come undone. I noticed two issues at this time. One was that my boots looked odd. I wasn't sure why, they just did. The second was that, as I bent over to tie the left boot, a chilled tingle passed through my ankle. I immediately stood up, more gingerly approached the tie up, and then hiked the next bit a little gingerly as a precaution.

After hiking up the steep incline after Rock Shelter, I was feeling much better. Food and water had helped... but as I hit the trail divide between returning to the Low Gap Trailhead and heading towards the backcountry, I was slowing down again. In particular an open hole in the forest canopy near a pond really slowed me as the heat just poured down on me. Turning towards the backcountry, the forest re-enclosed me, and my pace again slowed and, finally, I had to stop and sit down. I ate the rest of my sandwich and carrots, and just sat for a bit. There was no wind to speak of, the canopy providing a blessing and curse in that sense - blessing for no direct sunlight, but no wind meant no evaporative cooling. Sitting for 20 minutes resulted in no real cooling for me at all. Up and onward.

As I came to Low Gap Road, and the start of the Backcountry  area of MMSF, I was again feeling drained. I crossed the North Fork of Honey Creek, which had a bit of water coursing through it. Then another small footbridge over a boggy area led to some campsites. I passed them and approached the second creek bridge, this time over the East Fork of Honey Creek. Here I decided to test out my water filter.

At this point, I had emptied two bottles of water (probably 40 ounces) along with a liter out of my hydration bladder. I was sweating like a madman. For a filter, I am using a Sawyer Squeeze system, which worked great. Oh that water was cold and refreshing! I refilled both bottles, then filled the squeeze bag for the Sawyer filter and drank the entire 16 ounces in one long drag. I refilled, sprayed  bagful of water over my head to cool myself off, and then refilled and drank again - all 16 ounces. At this point, therefore, I had 34 ounces from the bladder and 72 ounces from other sources, for at total of 106 ounces of water in the span of about 3 1/2 hours. I began dillying at the creek, feeling a bit confused, but I remounted my pack, crossed the bridge, and moved on. It was at about this time that I began feeling hotspots and moisture in my boots, specifically where the outside of the big toes meets the boot. This is where I had noticed issues earlier back at Rock Shelter, but my thinking was already getting clouded, so I didn't really stop to think through what was causing the issue.

After the creek, the trail meanders a bit and heads uphill. I continued this way for probably another 1/3 to 1/2 mile before encountering a lovely assemblage of yellowjackets. As I stood there, I stood - not exactly frozen - but just at a complete loss about what I was doing, where I was going, how to handle the swarm, and trying to remember why I thought it was an issue. (I though it was an issue because, about 5 years ago, I got my legs stung but good by yellowjackets, but I couldn't even place that memory in the moment). I turned around and walked perhaps 20 or 30 yards back wards. Then I stopped and walked the other way. The yellowjackets were there. Where had they come from? I had to remind themselves that I had run into them before. But where? It was at this moment that I happened to look down and see that my right boot was starting to disintegrate, and that the stitching on my left boot where my toes were feeling wet had began to unravel. I knew this was decision time, and I was not going to allow the pride of 'overcoming obstacles' overcome the common sense of turning back to a safe haven and taking stock of my situation. I went back down the hill, crossed the East Fork bridge, and wandered into a camp that had been made a mess of. I went to another, that had people staying in it, and asked about other campsites. They told me there was a clearing behind their site, so I went there.

I decided to set up for the night. My next indication of a problem came when it took me an hour and a half to set up the same hammock and tarp that I had set up in 15 minutes just two days earlier. I wasn't thinking clearly still and my sweating, far from getting better, was getting worse. At one point, my shirt was steadily dripping everywhere. At this point, I had drank another 20 ounces of electrolyte-infused water, and 20 ounces of regular water. I went back to the creek, filled both bottles again, and brought back the filled bag as well for cooking water. I collected firewood, cooked dinner (Mountain House Mac & Cheese with Bacon Jerky) and ate the entire 3 serving bag of mac and half the jerky. The entire time, I never stopped sweating. My urine was dark in color, indicating dehydration. The temps were predicted to be in the 80's, and I knew they wouldn't be getting any better. By 7 pm, I had very spotty cell reception, and was able to let my wife know I was OK, but was going to need pickp the following day. It wasn't until about 10 PM that I got my location to her by text. After that, reception took a tank and I had no reception again until after I was picked up.

As dusk settled, I did get a nice fire going. I had hoped that might help to dry me out, but it didn't. Finally, about 10 PM, I changed shirts, but continued to sweat until about 3 AM.

Around midnight, some animal - I think a possum - climbed onto my pack (hanging from a nearby tree) as I was lightly dozing... that put me on edge. Not to mention the relatively loud and constant 'moo'ing coming from a farm down south of my location. Glowing eyes would look back at me in my hammock anytime I looked out. Yea, I was kinda creeped out.

About 1:30 or so, headlamps started shining into my hammock. That went on for about half an hour. The people at the next camp over had done a night hike and were doing privy business, so that explained that. Later in the night, however, the distinct sound of large animals again called me back to attentiveness... what sounded like two deer fighting, running around, huffing at one another. All I could envision was one of them running into my camp and sending me spinning in my hammock. I climbed out, rekindled my fire, hoping that would keep thenm away, and finally dozed off - probably out of sheer exhaustion - around 4ish. I was back up at 6:30, got some supplies from my pack, and laid back down in the hammock, dozing in and out until 8. It took me an hour to break down camp, and then Kristen came to pick me up at 10:30.

Now, let me share what went wrong.

1) I waaaaaaaaaay overpacked. And I thought I was being conservative! One paperback to read and a prayerbook - those were my luxury items. They never got touched, as did little of the packed food. My pack weight was 41 pounds. I packed way too much food for this trip. I could have gotten away with half of what I packed. Not sure on the water though.

2) Inattention early. If I had actually taken off my boots back at Rock Shelter, I would have noticed that the right boot sole had separated from the leather upper. That alone would probably have resulted in an abort, and such an abort might have been best. I also, in retrospect, realize I was somewhat disoriented on my stop at the creek to filter water. Could have saved myself an hour there if I had been more attentive and acknowledged my situation.

3) I overestimated the protection that the forest canopy would give from the heat. I am temperature sensitive, so I figured that canopy would help - which it did, but not nearly enough to compensate for my sensitivity. I was actively sweating until about 3 AM, when it was definitely down into the 60's. I think I need to confine long trips to spring and fall... summer is right straight out for backpacking more than a short distance. I have to acknowledge and own that.

That's about it for the moment. I am sure I will have more lessons to learn, but one thing I did take away from this experience is that while the elements won the day over my goals, I did not conclude my experience by wanting to drop the hobby as I did in the slog back from my Peninsula Trail hike. That is a step forward, and a positive one at that.

Using the Amok Hammock as a Bivy

JmBoh at Hammock Forums has shared a video on how to use the Amok hammock system as a bivy in the event that you can't hang for the night. A great tutorial, as I am concerned about my ability to hammock at Yellowwood next week. After I get back from the Tecumseh hike, I plan to offer a gear review of the Amok hammock.

The Indiana Greenways Challenge

The good people over at Greenways Foundation have been dedicated to the ongoing development of Indiana's access to outdoor recreation for a decade now. In celebration of their tenth anniversary, they have launched the Indiana Greenways Challenge. Their new state-wide trail map serves as a vehicle for discovering trails, and a multi-tiered series of options gives even the newest hiker, rider, horseback rider, or water-sports enthusiast accessible choices for outdoor recreation.

This initiative is a part of a social media campaign to continue to foster awareness of both the Greenways Foundation's mission, as well as the many outdoor recreational opportunities we are blessed with here in the State of Indiana. 

For more information, visit the Challenge website HERE.

With the hiking I am planning to do this year, I am opting for the Hoosier Trail Hero level... but there are great prizes for various levels of participation. Also, if you have one of their license plates, there is an additional level of consideration too. You do have a Trails plate, right?

I'll be sharing my progress with the hashtags #HoosierTrailHero and #INGreenwaysChallenge over on Facebook.

Happy trails!

Trip Report - Peninsula Trail, Charles C. Deam Wilderness of the Hoosier National Forest, Indiana

In camp at the end of the Peninsula Trail along Lake Monroe.
Due to weather conditions and my exhaustion,
this was the only photo I took the entire trip.

It was time for the final training hike before my Tecumseh Trail through hike, planned for May 29 - June 2 (roughly)... it was time for an over-nighter. The Peninsula Trail, a 6-ish mile out and back with camping right on Lake Monroe seemed an excellent choice. I left on Sunday, May 1 after Church and Lunch.

The forecast had been iffy for two weeks, and indeed recent hikers on the Indiana Backpackers Facebook page had warned that it was a nasty slog.

Boy were they ever right. 

First, some overall observations about the trail conditions as they existed on my visit:

Especially in wet weather, use side trails whenever they exist. Main trails are waterlogged and slow you down.

Towards the end of the trail, several of the areas that have the log border on the trail have massive standing pools of water. You know what likes to breed there. I had to walk side-stepping along the log trail border to keep from getting my feet soaked.

Ticks are definitely prevalent. Lone Star Ticks appear to be the creepy-crawly of the moment. Had one on my arm early in the hike, had several in camp, and found one on my leg after I came home (though it was only attached to hair, not my body, and had neither bitten nor fed). 

There were a few flies, junebugs, mosquitos, and a goodly number of ants about... but no major swarms of anything. Again, keep the time frame in mind, early May.

Now, for my experience.

Upon arriving at the Grubb Ridge parking lot, I had a flat tire. Add to that a couple who told me that ticks were literally falling out of the trees, and I, frankly, should have went home. It was a tough slog on somewhat confusing trails (side trails confused me), made more unnerving by the fact that I had left my trail map at home by accident. I kept telling myself I should have went home. I probably should have heeded my own advice. Upon passing several of the campsites, I considered stopping for the night. Again, I probably should have - but I was being stubborn. This was my only overnight chance before Tecumseh... if I can't make 6 miles in 3 hours, how am I going to do Tecumseh... picking up a theme?

After arriving in camp, thunder started rolling. The 10-20% chance for storms had hit me. I managed to get my tarp up before it began to rain, and, to be honest, the initial rain wasn't that bad. I hung the hammock thereafter. 

On this trip, I had a new tarp and new hammock straps to replace the paracord suspension that came with my SnugPack Jungle XL hammock. I plan to do some gear reviews down the line, so that's pretty much what I will say for them at the moment. I made a significant error, though, on this trip. I hung the hammock from trees that were too close together.

I was truly beat, but decided it was time to fix some dinner. I made another error here. I had leftovers from earlier in the week that I had froze and brought along. They did not thaw in my pack, and so I had a really nasty meal. Yes, I added hot water, which minimally thawed them... but blech, they tasted horrid. Never again.

As the sun was setting, I managed to snap my one and only photo from the trip. It's beauty is deceiving. My night was going to get interesting.

I tried getting a fire going. That was a waste of time. I forgot my kindling (dryer lint) and couldn't get anything to catch. That was well enough, because at about 9:45, the thunder started. At about 10 PM, my severe weather alert went off on my iPhone... tornado warning back at the hospital where I work. My wife called seconds later, she was up with my oldest, who was worried about me. On top of that, my phone charge was giving out. I remembered to lay out the small ground tarp I had bought the day before, and a good thing... I was going to need it.

By 10:20, it was pouring, windy, and lightning all around. In the midst of the storm, I found a tick inside my hammock. That had to be taken care of. The wind rocked the hammock a bit, but the tarp performed well, in spite of me having snapped one of the tie-downs off by accident. I didn't get wet, and neither did my gear, sitting on the ground at my foot.

The inclement weather lasted until about midnight. I could not get comfortable. The sleeping bag was OK, but the camp pad kept bunching up. Once, while trying to adjust, I managed to tear the integrated bug netting on the hammock. UGH!

By 1:30, I still was not asleep, so I climbed out of the hammock and tried adjusting the thing. I had minimally successful results - defined as: at least I got a few hours of sleep.

The following morning, I awoke to high winds and overcast skies before 7 AM. I decided to skip heating up the Mountain House Scrambled Eggs and Bacon that I had picked up, and just had a Clif bar. I discovered I was sick of Clif bars. I drank the rest of the Powerade I had on me, and refilled my hydration bladder with the water that had been in my water bottles. I tore down camp, and headed back up-trail to the parking lot. 

The entire slog back was utterly demoralizing. I finally took to simply counting my steps as a way to keep my sanity. Arriving back at the car, I was totally wiped. All I wanted to do was sell my gear and be done with the hobby. 

In the immediate aftermath of the hike, here is what I felt that I had learned:

1) Hammock... good in concept, but could it actually be lousy for me? It just didn't work the way I thought it was going to. Being motion sick prone, it was swinging just enough during the storms and high winds to make me feel queasy. I also couldn't keep my head above my feet, leading to tingling and numbness in my feet and legs. Integrated bug net tore when trying to re-position... not good in tick country. Had to get out at 1:30 in the morning and rehang the thing to get remotely comfortable. That is not enjoyable. 

2) I don't like being dirty. I felt disgusting in camp, and no amount of hand sanitizer changed that. Need to find a workaround.

3) I have to do some more thinking about sleep system. The Marmot 40 bag didn't fit well and I was literally stewing in my juices all night, even using it as a quilt. There were actually multiple issues with the bag, so much so that I am strongly considering returning it it (issues with the zippers were paramount and horribly frustrating in both testing and use).

4) I thought I would prefer hiking alone. I found the experience too lonely, especially when I couldn't sleep. Yes, someone was in a tent at the next campsite, but I was just bored stiff.

5) I think I dislike out and back hikes of distance, and need to look for loop hikes. That said, I am open to the fact that I was not looking forward to coming back to a flat tire, and the muck was just grating my nerves with every step.

6) I need to work on both pack weight as well as issues with my pack. I have a High Sierra Explorer 55 L pack. My sternum strap pulled off my right strap about 2 miles in. Not good. Tightening buckles for the shoulder straps dig into my armpits and really hurt.

7) Never take a frozen meal again. Food was a disaster in camp, and wound up burning in the pot and ruining my cook set for the trip. Live and learn.

8) Don't forget kindling! I never got a fire going. That was sad.

The biggest 'revelation' for me on this hike was that I might not be mentally or physically ready for a 4 day hike on the Tecumseh in a month's time. 

I do think that arriving with a flat tire probably set me up to feel frustrated from the moment I walked onto the trail, so perhaps I should have gotten into the car and went home and tried another day. That said, I did persevere... so perhaps I am readier than I think I am.

I shared my experiences with the fine folks on the Indiana Backpackers Facebook group. After letting some time go by, my views have been tempered...

I do believe that so much of my thinking in the aftermath of the hike was wrapped up in the fact that, before the trail head was even crossed, I had found myself in a quagmire not made of mud. Right now I am excited to hike again but also playing it cautious. I do intend to attempt Tecumseh at the end of the month, though with a few caveats...

A) Leaving Sunday afternoon was a bad idea. Trying to cram sermon prep, music prep, check-listing my pack, etc. on Saturday night, followed by getting 3 kids ready for Church, leading worship, etc., then rushing home, eating a whirlwind lunch, and traveling an hour and a half to start a hike is NOT a recipe for my success. I am used to a nap or at least down-time on Sunday, so hiking Sunday PM for an overnight setup was a really bad idea.

B) Instead of viewing the Peninsula Hike as an adventure unto itself, my sole goal was to use it as a training hike for Tecumseh, mainly for packing in and packing out / over-nighting it. Because my motivation was flawed from the get-go, the experience was less than it could have been, as was my determination.

C) The minute the car had an issue, knowing myself, I should have went home. I worried obsessively about not only the car itself, but the financial outlay to fix it.

D) In some respects, I am far more dedicated than I think I am. Several times I contemplated stopping and setting up camp, especially at the junction where the Grubb Ridge and Peninsula trails separate. I chose to press on, in spite of my dislike of the situation. I accomplished almost every last goal for the hike (never filtered water, didn't get a fire going). I did finally fall asleep in the hammock - fitfully, to be sure, but I did sleep. I did not take a nap the following day. I was grumpy but functional. I made it and did not quit, no matter how badly, at moments, I wanted to.

E) The fact that I completed, what, 12 miles in less than 20 hours in terrible conditions I think suggests that I am slightly more physically ready than I gave myself credit for last week. I think the sheer emotional fatigue of coming back to a blown out tire did me in.

So, my modified Tecumseh plan...

I am leaving on Monday, May 30, not Sunday. (See Above)

I had already planned to have my family come to meet me and resupply at the 2 day point (planning for 4 days), but I am now identifying bailout points for day 3 and 4 if I just don't feel that I have it in me to finish. I have the full map and the trail guide, so as long as I can figure out how to tell my wife to get to my bug-out points, I think I'll be OK.

I am going to mend my hammock and try it again for the TT hike. In particular, I have to wonder if my rolled camp pad (Therm-a-rest RidgeRest) didn't contribute to some other problems. It was hard to get it to unroll in the hammock, so I may explore inexpensive pad options. Temps should drop no lower than the upper 40's by end of month, so I feel OK about that. I may still get rid of the mummy sack and get a traditional style bag. Haven't decided yet.