Originally printed July 9, 2020.
Tuesday was my last day hiking this week in Taylor County. After a bit of a shaky start, it turned out to be a pretty nice day in the woods.
Rain was again in the forecast for the afternoon, so I was up early to get the hike done in the morning. Today I was hiking the 6.4 mile East Lake Segment. My guidebook mentioned it was remote, hilly and scenic, so I was expecting a lot of up and down. While my bike ride to the trail head was lengthy, it was the first time I rode entirely on paved roads, and I greatly appreciated the upgrade. After locking my bicycle at a kiosk at the trail head, I quickly shouldered my pack and got started.
Just after entering the woods to begin, I was greeted with my first sighting of a hummingbird while on the trail. So pretty and delicate. I took it as an omen of good things to come. Continuing on another 50 or 60 yards, the question “You have your keys, right?” flashed through my brain. Of course I have them. They’re right in the top compartment of my backpack. I always put them in the uppermost compartment so the key fob stays dry in the event I step into a hole when crossing a stream. Just then I stopped to reach into that part of the pack to satisfy my curiosity.
No keys.
I checked again, this time more thoroughly. No keys. Now, I have been known to forget things. Heck, I left my glasses on a mountaintop and didn’t realize it until an hour later. I quickly made my way back to the trail head, with the keys still in my bike’s lock. At least that’s how I imagined it. Nope. No keys there. Now I started to get a little panicky. Did I somehow drop them in the 50-70 yards I had walked? I bent down and checked the grass underneath the lock. No luck. Fortunately, the rational part of me called a Time Out, and I proceeded to completely empty my pack. There were my keys in the very bottom of the pack. It was only ten minutes, but I’m sure my blood pressure elevated in a hurry. If someone had happened by at that moment, they would seen an amusing sight – me, with the contents of my pack strewn around me, kneeling on the edge of the road with my hands folded, muttering, “Thank you, Jesus!” Quickly, I threw everything back WHERE IT BELONGED in my pack and resumed my hike.
This trail was rated a “4” out of a maximum 5, and it began to show me why almost immediately. Unlike some of the trails in southern Wisconsin, there were no switchbacks; just a path going straight up or down. There had been some pretty severe storms in the area the day before, and I was expecting soggy conditions. While, those spots were there, they were not nearly as bad as I expected. For most of the hike, I was under a shady forest canopy. I appreciated the shade; it was in the 80s and very muggy. Periodically I’d wet a hanky with some water, place it on my head throw my hat over it. That gave me some relief.
It is hard to pinpoint a prettiest spot when the entire segment was pretty, but I’d have to say two places stood out. One was a a view from the top of a ridge as I passed East Lake itself. The other section was where the trail skirted a wetland area. I was taken with the contrast between the woods and the marsh land. I hope the picture above gives an idea of it.
Beards Lane roughly marked the 2/3 extent of my hike, with 1.8 miles left. The trail was a little more open here because of lumbering, and the path went through some overgrown, grassy areas. I was concerned that some ticks might hitch a ride, but that wasn’t the case. As for other critters, I saw a small garter snake, plus many signs that animals were in the area, including what I thought might have been tracks made by a bear cub.
One very nice thing the local chapter did was to erect some signs along the way to inform hikers of some of the geographic features or identifying trees. Below is an example of one of them.
Considering the heat and the hills, I kept a pretty steady pace and finished the trail a little quicker than I expected, easily beating the rain. I threw on a fresh set of clothes – dry socks are such a blessing – and started for home.
My Days on the Ice Age Trail 