Originally printed June 10, 2019.
Part redemption. Part problem solving. Mostly fun and discovery. That was my experience on the Ice Age Trail last Saturday.
After getting lost on the Lumbercamp Segment the day before, I was eager to get back to figure out what went wrong. When I met with Joe, my trail angel, at the western terminus, he asked my to reconsider attempting the segment again, He said the next segment to the west, the Old Railroad Segment, would be much easier than the trails I had hiked the day before. But, I was insistent on doing the Lumbercamp. I was confident I would be fine.
Joe was OK with my choice. Before we drove to the trail’s start point, he showed me a couple of more detailed maps of the area. One showed all the logging trails that crisscrossed the area . What a maze! He had his ideas on what happened, but he needed to check with the Sheriff to confirm where I was found to help in his analysis. It didn’t take long to drive to the starting point. I thanked him for all his help and promised I would contact him once I finished. It was 9:15. While it was relatively mild, I knew the temperature was going to climb into the low 80s.
Based on my conversation with Joe and my own analysis, I figured that I missed a sign fairly early on the Lumbercamp Segment, and the errant path took me south and east back toward WI Highway 52. My idea was to hike methodically and take pictures at every junction so I could build a clear picture of what happened and, if needed, present my findings to Joe. Everything went smoothly. As I hit each turn, I took a picture and ticked each one as familiar. Then I came to the turnoff shown above. It stopped me dead in my tracks. So THIS is where it happened.
Looking at it, I felt a little sheepish. I mean, how could I miss that? But, the area has a lot of rocks and tree roots in the trail. As a result, I often hike with my eyes locked on the ground three or four feet in front of me. My guess is that I blasted right past this sign with my head down and continued up the hill to the point where the paths diverged and I ultimately took the road to my left, Now it made sense why there was no signage at that point; I had left the trail some distance earlier.
Now I felt so much better, and I spent the rest of the hike enjoying the walk instead of recreating a bad decision. I continued winding my way through deep woods. The trail varied from a footpath to a logging road, and back again. I noticed a blister was starting to give my left foot some discomfort, so I paused a bit to get it covered with moleskin and tape. Fortunately, a downed tree in the roadway gave me a great workbench for this. Such breaks are rare for me. In fact, outside of stopping to take a picture, swig some water, or text Jane, I don’t stop while hiking. Even munching food is done while walking.
This segment earned its name because of the old Norem Lumber Camp located along the trail in a clearing at the intersection with the Otto Mauk or Norem Camp Road. According to the IATA Guide, “From the 1920s until 1938, the camp contained several log structures, including a bunkhouse, hayshed, stable, community kitchen and mess hall. All that remain are the root cellar and several log foundations. The root cellar has been renovated and is affectionately called the ‘Hillbilly Hilton.’ Inside are sleeping platforms, a small table and shelving to welcome hikers out of the elements.” Pretty rustic for my tastes, and it did not look clean at all. But who knows? Under different circumstances, I might have spent the night there when I got lost.
Shortly after I passed the Hillbilly Hilton, I met a couple of hikers headed east. Their names were Pam and LoriLynn(Spelling??). My “cowbell” noisemaker works very well,according to them, because they could hear me long before they saw me. Pam is on her second circuit on the trail – very impressive! We had a pleasant visit for about 10-15 minutes before we went our separate ways.
Active logging still happens in this area, and I saw lots of evidence of it as I continued on what was now a fairly wide logging road. Huge stacks of logs where piled high on either side of the road. The machinery used for this is huge. I have read of instances where logging has really screwed up the trail because trees marked with yellow blazes were taken. The blaze markers were gone here, but their absence didn’t hurt me. They were back once I got through the log storage area.
Another thing the heavy logging equipment has really damaged is the road surfaces themselves. The heavy use of these dirt roads by ATVs and heavy equipment has caused huge, muddy ruts. In order to build up the road in these low spots, tons of hardball-sized rocks were dumped. Then the roadway was flattened as the heavy equipment passed over them. As a rough solution to aid the heavy trucks and such, these rocky patches are a workable solution. But, walking on a bed of largish rocks is no picnic. I had to pick my way carefully these sections so I didn’t roll an ankle or fall down. After about a half mile of this, the rock roads stopped and the roadway was more gentle on my feet.
As I continued west, I was still walking through forest, but I got the impression that it was thinning out. The sky seemed a lot more open to me, and the mosquitoes weren’t the nuisance they had been before. The path was now taking me through higher grass roughly 6 – 12 inches high – tick country. I started checking for them periodically, but I only spotted one. Maybe I was lucking out.
About a mile west of County S, I entered the Peters March State Wildlife area. I had about four miles left. To some people, marshes are a turnoff. Too much mud and skeeters. I have grown to like them because of the variety of wild life one can find. My critter sighting occurred here when I flushed a ruffled grouse about 5-8 feet in front of me and to my left. It scurried across my path to my right and into some low brush. I watched as it moved behind me and headed right back to its original place. My guess was that this was a mama trying to protect her babies. It was such fun to watch. What a beautiful bird.
As is often the case, the last mile or so of a long hike seems to take forever. Finally, I spotted my car in the distance. I quickly got in and turned it on to get that good A/C going. One more thing to do before I could be on my way. Tick check. In the 76 previous hikes, I had only spotted one tick. I made up for that this time. First, I took off my gaiters and rolled up my pants. There was a ring of them right at the top of my socks. They were easy to brush off, but them gave me the creeps. Tried to use a lint roller to grab them, but they wouldn’t stick, so I was forced to flick them off into the grass. I thought I had them all, so I drove to a nearby lake with the intent of unzipping the legs off my pants and jumping in. But the wood ticks had found a comfortable spot in the folds where the zippers were. There must have been 20 of them. Heck, I had to pull off the highway on the way home when I spotted one walking across the inside windshield of my car like he/she/it owned the place!
Insidious little b#@%A$ds. Hate them.
My Days on the Ice Age Trail 