Originally printed September 1, 2019.
Last Monday’s hike could easily be divided into three parts. The first 2/3 were quite satisfying. The final third? Not so much.
When my alarm went off at 6:00 a.m., I was genuinely surprised that it was the alarm that woke me, as opposed to the pitter patter of rain on my car’s roof. Overcast skies and rain showers were in the forecast for most of the day, with strong thunderstorms entering the picture later in the afternoon. So, every minute of dry conditions was a welcome blessing. I quickly got out of bed, dressed, brushed my teeth, and broke camp. After a stop at the local Mac’s for coffee to wash down the breakfast I brought from home, I made the short drive to the pickup/end point for today’s hike, a small, picturesque parking area along Townline Lake. Very soon, Joe, Monday’s Trail Angel, arrived with his wife, and we drove to the starting point, the entrance to 4-H Camp Susan along Langlade County Highway B. We said our goodbyes, and I got started at 8:12 a.m. It was in the high 50s and very cloudy.
On tap for August 26th were two segments – the Highland Lakes Eastern and Western Segments – plus a good-sized connecting route between them. Just over 13 miles of hiking through relatively flat country, according to my guidebook.
The first 1.8 miles was a walk on a dirt access road to Camp Susan that wove its way through very deep woods. Between the overcast and the dense tree cover, the forest floor seemed all the more dark and mysterious. It was eerily quiet. The only sounds seemed to be the crunching of my feet on the road and the intermittent clanging of my noise maker/bear repulsion device as it smacked my legs.
Soon I arrived at Camp Susan. The access road bent to the right, below the ridge on which the camp’s building stood. It would have been a boring walk without much in the way of scenery. But, since the camp was vacant, and since I was in need of a bathroom break, I clambered up the ridge to see the camp proper. The site was fairly compact and pleasing to me, with the camp’s dorms and the cafeteria nestled into the ridge overlooking Susan Lake. I made my way to where the service road rejoined the trail. At this point, the trail runs concurrent with the camp’s nature trail, threading its way between a number of small lakes. Signs along the way helped my identify the various trees along the way and gave thumbnail information about how to identify particular trees, what the wood was used to produce, and how the tree was used by the area’s wildlife. The Hemlock was quite interesting to me. The tannins in the bark were used for tanning leather. In the 19th century, loggers harvested the bark of these only. The logs were left to rot.
Very quickly, the segment’s trail came to an end, and I started walking on Forest Road, which comprised the bulk of the 4.6 mile middle “third” of the hike. As I think about it now, this was the most scenic portion of the hike. The first mile of it ran just to the south of Deep Wood Lake, and I was treated to views of quaint lakeside cottages hugging the lakeside. On my right as I walked was the Langlade County forest, and huge trees framed the road, some of them better than five stories high. On my left was the Bogus Swamp. Nooo, that it not a typo. There really is a place called the Bogus Swamp, not to be confused with the Great Dismal Swamp – yes, that is a thing, too – located in Virginia and North Carolina. Based on the DNR write up of the area, the Bogus Swamp came by its name honestly. “The aptly named Bogus Swamp is actually an extensive variety of northern wetland types, but none are remotely swamp. Featured is a large muskeg of stunted, scattered black spruce and tamarack over a groundcover of sphagnum, sedges, and ericads. Community composition changes as one moves from north to south; along the northern boundary flows an intermittent mineral-rich stream with associated emergent aquatics dominated by cat-tails, bog birch, and leather-leaf that grades into a lake sedge and leather-leaf dominated community. South of this zone is an unusual patterned bog, one of only two well-developed examples of this type in Wisconsin. Mineral-rich water flowing into the wetland from the stream permits the development of linear, open-water tracts called flarks that alternate with narrow zones of vegetation, or strings, on a mat of sphagnum. Topographically higher areas of the strings are dominated by tamarack, bog laurel, and bog birch. Rare plants found here include four sedges. Noteworthy among the breeding birds are palm warbler and Lincoln’s sparrow, here at the southern limits of their breeding range. Bogus Swamp is owned by Langlade County and was designated a State Natural Area in 1995.”
From the road, it appeared to be a very beautiful place. If there are trails through there, I’d love to walk them.
Ultimately, Forest Road intersected with Kleever Road. I hung a right and walked roughly half a mile before reaching the end of Kleever Road and the intersection with Lowells Road. I was now starting the Highland Lakes Western Segment. Now, I understand that not all segments of the IAT are created equal. Some will be prettier than others. But, I really didn’t enjoy hiking this nearly six mile segment at all. The first 2-3 miles of it was on a primitive road that was most likely a logging road in its prime. It reminded me of the access road to Camp Susan that started that day’s hike, except it wasn’t nearly as pretty. It didn’t possess the “enchanted forest” vibe that the Camp Susan road possessed. I found it to be something to get through instead of a section to be savored.
The west branch of the Eau Claire River cut the segment nearly in half. I had three options for crossing it – walk through the water and get wet feet, walk upstream about 300 yards and cross the river on a culvert, or use the rocks in the river as stepping stones to cross. I chose the third option. Although I had to stretch to make it to one of the rocks, I managed the crossing successfully. Immediately after making the crossing, the logging path had become a bit of a quagmire for roughly 100 yards. Fortunately, I was able to manuver around the big puddles in the road without slipping and falling on my arse.
It was the final hour on the trail that frustrated me. When the trail was level, the grass and shrubbery was very overgrown. As I made my way, I had to fight against the undergrowth for every footstep forward and every arm swing with my walking sticks. I managed by adjusting my walk to resemble a bicycling motion, and by extending my arms high into the air in order for my poles to clear the grass. It worked, but I had to labor much harder than I wanted.
When the trail wasn’t level, it was rocky and rising dramatically. Although this segment was rated a mild 2 out a possible 5 on hilliness, I wasn’t buying it. The climbs reminded me of Lapham Peak and Devil’s Lake. No switchbacks to speak of – just a single path going up at a steep angle. Maybe someone should walk the trail from east to west like I did. Maybe they’d revise their rating up a point or two. My lungs burned as I continued to climb. Normally I don’t mind climbing hills, because I’m rewarded with a beautiful view. The IAT Guide speaks to a view to be enjoyed during the off-leaf seasons, but I was a good six weeks away from that. When I looked to my right or my left, what I saw was a dark wall of green. And, whenever I stopped to rest or to swig some water, the mosquitoes were swarming. My choice was to put my head down and keep going.
I was about a half hour from the end of the hike during one of those head-down climbs when I saw an indentation and the right edge of the trail. It was a little more than five inches long and roughly five inches wide as well. For the first time on the trail, I had encountered a bear track. I have to admit that I was skeptical that it was an actual bear track when I first saw it. It almost looked too perfect, like someone was carrying a mock up of a bear paw and pressing it into the mud. I decided at the very least to take a picture and compare it with other shots of bear tracks once I got off the trail. My picture is above.
While all this was going on, I was aware that the sky was getting darker and that it was raining a tiny bit. It was nothing much, really. I would describe it as “spitting.” I finished my hike at 1:30. As I crossed County T toward my car, the heavens opened and it started to rain.
Good timing!
My Days on the Ice Age Trail 