Butterfield Hiking Trail – 1/1/16

Pre-Trip planning:

I really wanted to wow my neighbor & new hiking buddy with a phenomenal meal on his first night so, of course, I went with fillets.   Picked up a couple of 7-8 oz. fillets, a cluster of asparagus, a packet of mushroom brown gravy and a packet of instant skin-on red potatoes. The night before, I put the meat in the fridge.   I put a stick of butter, about a cup of shredded cheddar cheese, and a few tablespoons of bacon grease in the freezer.   Also froze four water-based cooler inserts.  I use an insulated kids’ lunch box to carry ingredients that need to stay cool.  Freezing some of the ingredients the night before helps keep things nice and cool even on warm days.

New additions to the kit:

On my last hike, my cheap tin cup finally gave up the ghost.   I’ve purchased an Olicamp Hard Anodized Space Saver Mug and a hunter’s orange Sea to Summit X-Mug.   The X-mug collapses to fit perfectly as an insulating lid for the Olicamp mug.   I wrapped the Olicamp mug  in orange 550 para-cord with a little loop on the side in case I wanted to hang it from something.   I left the bottom unwrapped so that I could put it on a low heat to warm up.

 

I also bought a Rothco Molle Water Bottle Pouch to hold one of my Nalgene water bottles.   I finally got tired of reusing old sports drink bottles – mostly due to the small mouth.   Just can’t beat a wide-mouthed Nalgene.   The pouch on the outside is a perfect fit for two Polar Pure bottles, a cigarette lighter, and my Leatherman Skeletool.   It would also easily fit my camera, a candy bar, and one bottle of Polar Pure if I wanted to use it as a quick summit/off-trail exploration kit.

Finally, in anticipation of making mashed potatoes on the trail, I cut the handle down on a big plastic spoon so that it would fit in my mesh cook kit bag.

 

Friday morning, 1/1/2016

No better way to kick off the new year than to head out into the woods.   The weather for the past week has been torrential rain with flooding everywhere.   This ushered in the coldest temperatures so far this winter . . . with highs in the upper 40s and overnight lows dipping below freezing.   I figured a few dry days would be enough to lower the creeks around BHT while still letting just about every waterfall in the area flow.   Winter leaf-off, full waterfalls, cold enough to keep most folks off the trail. . . I can’t really think of a more perfect way to introduce someone to the trail.

About 7:45 am I backed the truck out to warm it up and stash the packs . . . only to see my neighbor heading on down the road toward my driveway with that grin on his face we all have heading into a hike.   Plan was to be on the trail by 9:00 am.

Signed in at the visitor center and found there were two other groups, both going clockwise.   I hate doing the trail clockwise.   Parked at the trailhead, took obligatory pictures, and then headed into the woods.

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That’s my neighbor and new trail buddy, Lucky.  I told him we had to take pictures now because we won’t be this pretty when the hike ends.

We weren’t.

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I purposefully chose counter-clockwise for a couple of reasons. The first one is the Devil’s Half-Mile.   In my opinion, that’s the most difficult part of the trail and I really like to get that behind me.   Another reason is that once you get up on top of the mountain, it is pretty easy going until Junction Camp.   I didn’t know anything about how Lucky was as a hiker and this was going to be a good chance to test him out.   I figured if it took us too long to get to JC, then we could easily hike out to the trailhead in the morning and it would still “count” as an overnight trip.   I’m not big on taking risks and felt responsible for making this a fun, safe hike for him. The final reason is that I really don’t think that section of the trail is as pretty as the rest. I wanted to end the hike with the wow-factor of heading through Quaill Valley.

We hit the trail at 9:00, approximately, and made great time.   Just before we turned up the mountain, we did come across a trashed campsite – which was disappointing.   It did provide one more picture, though, for my ongoing scavenger hunt of odd & inexplicable items found on the trail.

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Yep. This.   Sitting on a rock.

I also found a long section of orange paracord hanging from a tree, so I salvaged that while Lucky took pictures of the running water. Up the mountain, then.

I was huffing and wheezing like an asthmatic locomotive heading up that bit.   He’s behind me barely breaking a sweat.   I’m feeling every one of the pounds I put on this holiday season. Every. One.   We do make it up to the top and head on.   There’s been some kind of shifting or significant erosion on that side over the past few years.   Lot of trees down across the trail, one section almost washed out.   Nothing dangerous, just like I said – not the prettiest part of the trail.   I got turned around once while telling a story.   Saw a double-diamond and just did a little u-turn and zeroed in on the first diamond I saw.   About ten, fifteen steps down the trail I hear him say, “Um. . . I think you’re going the wrong way.”

Heh.   Nothing inspires confidence in your guide like watching him lose track of what side the mountain is on.

Stopped for lunch just as the trail takes a turn down toward the creeks.   Down went the packs, out came the cameras.   The water was just rushing.   Beautiful.   I’m leaning back on a rock noshing on a candy bar and grinning like I’m the one who made the water flow. It is really fun watching someone see this place for the first time.

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Made it to the turn-off to Junction Camp around 1 and, really, I just couldn’t make camp that early.   I did want him to see the campsites down there, though, so we walked through and took a few pictures. Recent flooding had dropped considerably and there was nobody around.

Spent the next two hours hiking to Rock Hole Camp. I figured the clockwise groups would be camping at either Quaill Valley or Rock House.   At 4 we set up camp at the tall fire pit in the middle of Rock Hole Camp. Slung the hammocks, started a fire.   I treated some water and started getting my cook kit together.   When I showed him the steaks, he was dubious.   “Those are. . uh.. pretty thick steaks.”

I just grinned.

This is how I keep the crew inviting me along. I ain’t pretty, I ain’t fast, and I don’t always smell so good after the first day.   But I can cook like nobody’s business.

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Back on the trail

Finally settled into the new home.  Great neighborhood, great house.   I invited one of my neighbors over to a crawfish boil and ended up talking (of course) about hiking.  He seemed interested and said he’d like to go some time.

So, I invited him.    We knocked out the Butterfield Hiking Trail Friday overnight into Saturday.   I’ll get some pictures up and do a trail report soon.   Met some good folks on the trail, too.  I’m hoping they’ll check in here and let me know how their trip went.

For them as well as my new friend, it was their first taste of overnight backpacking and their first taste of the Butterfield.    I’m so accustomed to following along behind Kat (who wasn’t able to join us on this hike) that I forget how far I’ve come as a backpacker.   It was a whole lot of fun playing guide and helping folks discover such a beautiful trail.

Also saw that the visitor’s center had new patches, so I couldn’t help myself.

NewPatches

 

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Updates & Anecdotes

Around early February, we decided we were fed up with the house.

Isn’t a bad house.  We love the yard.   But the dog was dying.  And the kitchen is too small (we’ve never liked it).   And we can’t fit the family around the little breakfast nook anymore.  The master bathroom is cold.

I spent most of February getting it fixed up, staged, cleaned out.   I’m astonished at the amount of junk that accumulates over ten years of living in a space.  Trips to the recycling center, donations to yard sales, flat-out trashing broken and unusable things.

March got a serious offer on the house quickly, so we found a new home.  Bigger, more open, newer.  My wife said to buy my dream kitchen.  So I did.   That closes soon.   The final week of April is touchy, making sure everything closes happily and on time.   Then I have to unpack.    (I did already dive into the storage barn once and played box-Jenga to access my hiking gear.)

Give me a week or so to unpack, get everything connected and put back in place.   Then I’ll be back.  Lots to write about.

Also. . . turned 40 a couple weeks ago.   Need to write about that, too.  Something significant in most folks’ eyes when you cross over that decade line.

Can’t wait to show off my new kitchen.

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Happy find – Polar Pure is back on the market

I may be a little late in figuring this out, but my favorite water purification system is back on the market!   I’ll have to do a little research about why, but here’s a link to buy it on Amazon.

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Eggnog French Toast w/ Bananas Foster & Whipped Dark Rum Mascarpone Topping

The inspiration from this dish came from, I believe, an episode of Good Eats that wikipedia tells me is from 2004 titled “Toast Modern” (Season 7).   My dad made french toast growing up and it is a comfort food.   The basic recipe I learned as a kid was simple – egg, milk, sugar, cinnamon.  Dip the bread then fry it.  Cover with powdered sugar and smile.  Alton Brown got me thinking, as he is wont to do, in different directions.   I made his recipe a few times and liked it, but one cold January night a few years ago I was completely out of eggs because I used them all making eggnog.    I never went back.

Recommended music to play while making this:  Zydeco or Dr. John
Recommended reason to eat:  Heartbreak or you bought too much eggnog
Recommended companion drink:  Milk, you sot.  Got like 3 kinds of alcohol in it.

So let’s get our ingredients together:

2014-11-16 15.39.411 loaf of Italian bread
3 too-brown-for-the-kids-to-eat bananas mascarpone cheese
brown sugar, white sugar
cinnamon
eggnog (non-alcoholic)
bourbon & dark rum
heavy cream

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Step 1:

Pour eggnog into a dish large enough to hold a thick slice of your Italian bread.   Stir in two eggs, brown sugar, cinnamon, white sugar, and vanilla.   I prefer the texture of a little egg left on the toast, so I add the eggs last and beat them just enough to mix but not fully incorporate.

Keep a mix of the cinnamon & sugars nearby just in case the custardy mix needs a little rejuvenation for the last few slices.

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Step 2

Heat your cast iron skillet and toss a little butter in there to make it happy.  Soak the slices in the custard mix for 30 seconds on each side.   Set them on a rack to rest.   Go ahead and turn your oven on to 450 degrees while you’re at it.

You just want them in the pan long enough to lay on a good browning sear.   Pull ’em out and lay ’em back on the rack.   I used 4 thick slices for this recipe.

2014-11-16 16.21.202014-11-16 15.47.03Looking good!  On to Step 3. You’ll see over here that I brought out the Kraken.  The whipped topping is mascarpone cheese, sugar, heavy cream, and dark rum.   If you’re paying attention to the picture, you’ll see some whole milk sneaking along the corner.   I didn’t have enough cream for what I needed and substituted a little milk.  It worked out alright.   Add the rum to taste and don’t go too crazy with the blender.   It should be creamy but you’re not churning butter here.   Set it in the fridge to cool.


Step 4
:  Bananas Foster topping2014-11-16 16.25.04

Same cast-iron skillet.   Slice your bananas.  Add brown sugar, cinnamon, butter, and bourbon.   Crank it up to a medium high heat.   Let magic happen.  Keep an eye on your toast, it should be getting about ready.  Don’t want it to burn.

Better start getting the plates and cleaning up the table.  Wash your hands and get ready to feast on this beauty.   Get a nice cold glass of milk, too.

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I’ll work on my plating.

Scoop out the mascarpone topping with an ice-cream scooper and dollop it on the fresh-from-the-oven toast.  It will start to melt almost immediately.   Layer on the bananas foster topping.   Get a steak knife and a fork.

Enjoy.

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2015 – Bear Bait & Squirrel make a resolution

Isn’t even New Years yet, but this is worth blogging about.   I’ve written over the past few years about me ‘n the boys.  Momma for the most part has been content to let us go do our wilderness thing.

But then, about six months ago, she took up a new hobby – running.  I’ve done two 5k races with her since then. While I still consider myself more of a hiker than a runner – the two sports do have a lot in common.

Squirrel, around the dinner table the other night, said that he wants mom to come with him on our next hike.    Bear Bait agreed so much that he made her a camp sammich (1 slice bread, 1 slice American cheese) for dinner.   Seriously.     So the focus of this blog is going to change a bit this year.   We’re all going to get her out on the trail.   She’s done some dayhikes with us, but our goal is to get her on an overnight.

Bear Bait has a new pack that I’m going to write about as soon as he gets to break it in on its first hike.  Squirrel is turning 6 in a few days and is MUCH more reliable in his advanced age when it comes to not running off into the night or base jumping off of cliffs (something I never had to worry about with his brother.)

The first overnight with Momma is set for the first pretty & warmish Spring weekend – so we have a few months left to get her started.   I know I have a few lady hikers who read the blog – please offer suggestions & links in the comments for how me ‘n the boys can make this first hike most successful for her.

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Mount Magazine

Had an interesting opportunity at the first of the month to attend a professional development training for three days at the Mount Magazine lodge.   Was to begin on a Wednesday at 10:00 a.m. and go on until Friday at 3:00 p.m.   As far as trainings go, it wasn’t going to be a large one – maybe about fifteen other professionals in this field – and it was great PD.  But this isn’t a PD blog.

So I ended up getting my own hotel room for Tuesday night in Van Buren and went down the night before.  Woke up early and decided to avoid the interstate for a prettier drive to the mountaintop.  Got there in plenty of time to park at the overflow campground and just wander around the series of paths and little-used trails that spiderweb out from those campsites.  Of course, the leaves haven’t changed yet, but I’ve not been up there for a few years and you just don’t get that type of view too many places in the state.

Which meant that when everyone else arrived at the training fresh, I had a little sheen of sweat and a bit of dewy mud on my cuffs.   I couldn’t help telling the folks around me, none of them backpackers or even trail-walkers, about how amazing it was out there.   So, when we had an extended break around dinner time I ended up filling up the ‘yota with three folks and heading back out to my favorite spot.  It required a bit of squinting to determine where that little-used pathway existed underneath early fall growth, but we all made it to the view and I have to admit – I got more joy out of watching them see something they’ve never seen before than I did if I’d just gone out alone as I’d originally planned.     “Wait ’till you see it at night!”    They looked at the trail(ish) path we took to get out here and then looked at me like I was crazy.

When the training ended that night around eight, eight-thirty maybe, the three had backed out.   Undeterred, I just grabbed my flashlight and went out there myself to sit for a while and soak in the beauty.   On the way back to the lodge, my cell phone rang.   Two other participants heard about it, wanted to come, and were disappointed I had already headed out.   I swung by the lodge, loaded up the truck, and off we went again!    This time, it was a little darker and I had a harder time keeping sight of the trail(ish) path we were following.    Several times I asked them to just stand together in a clump and wait while I scouted around for the trail.    We all made it to a view, though, and just . . . just sat.

Talking to my buddy Kat later about it, he said that it’s easy to forget that the majority of folks don’t head out and do the kind of crazy stuff we do just to get a view of something beautiful and not-often-seen.   I could tell they were all real proud of having survived their first night hike and there was much laughter and retelling to be had.  The next morning, I bought all of them a Mt. Magazine patch.  Figured they earned it.

The next day, I took a group out to one of the better marked trails and we all marveled at the view from that side of the mountain.    Storms were rolling in, though, so there were no night hikes to be had that evening.   Instead, I opened up my balcony door (was lucky enough to have landed a 3rd floor room) and just watched the lightning and rain roll past.

Reminded me that I need to take my family up there soon.  Maybe when the leaves change, we’ll head up there and bring the hammocks.

Maybe there’s a half-dozen more folks now who consider themselves in this odd and strong-legged group that like to call themselves hikers.

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Running?

Bear Bait,now a 4th Grader, told me back in March that he’d like to join the school’s running club.  Twice a week, for about an hour after school, somewhere near 150 or so kids would meet at the track by the playground to prepare for an upcoming race.  I joined him for as many of the running club runs as work allowed.  We had the option of doing a 1 mile fun-run or the full 5k.

Bear Bait opted for the 5k.  He’s never run any kind of race before.

On Friday, after school, we headed home and geared up for the race.    Something like 3000 people signed up for this race and we ended up starting near the front.   He looked around and leaned in and said, “Dad, I want you to stay close to me.”   I promised him we’d cross the line together.

He did real good.  I’m proud of him.  He jogged for most of the first mile, then he began to struggle.   We set little goals . . . run to the next yellow sign.    Walk to the next big tree.   We jogged about half of it and probably walked the other half.  Off and on.

Crossed the line running, though.

A few days before the race, he told me he didn’t think we’d make 1st place.  I nodded, said probably not.    The trick is to just finish.  We’ll work on a time to beat next time.

Not sure our official time, but we were 43:ish when we crossed the line.

I couldn’t help my people-watching, though.   There were some serious folks out there, serious running costumes, serious gear.   Personally, 3.1 miles never felt so easy. . . no pack, no mountains, and folks standing there to give you cold and already treated water every mile or so?  If it weren’t for the crowds, I’d have to rethink my favorite activity.

 

 

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ERL Trip Report: Day 2 ending & day 3

East Saline Creek to Little Mo./Athens-Big Fork Junction Trailhead
~7 miles

Saturday night was just beautiful. After we ate a few helpings of dinner, Kat went down to the stream to rinse out the pots.   I piddled around camp some, gathering a few more sticks for the fire, going through my hammock-side nightly ritual.

Took out my contacts, found my glasses. Hung what was left of the food bag, covered and hung the pack up off the ground. Didn’t know if rain would come in overnight or not, but a few cold gusts of wind earlier in the day Saturday had us on alert.

Eventually, ended up sitting on the ground with my back against a log about a foot away from Kat relaxing in the same repose.   Dusk turned to dark, all the quicker with our night vision ruined by the campfire.

Not sure we talked about anything at all for a while, but that’s usually a good sign.   Rare to find a friend who knows what to do with a comfortable silence.   I stood up to stretch my knees and the movement startled a pair of deer drinking just a few yards away at the creek.   One doe jumped up the bank and stood on the trail staring at me, but I froze. Not sure if she could make me out on the edge of the fire or if she just figured me harmless.   Watched her a little while until she walked back down to the water and then disappeared into the night.

It was the perfect night.   I unzipped the outer shell of my hammock and let the cool air flow through the mosquito netting.   I even kicked off my socks and slept barefoot – something I’ve never done in a hammock before.   The only time I woke up was when the wind kicked up and slapped my rain fly against the hammock near my head.

We set the alarms for 5:00 a.m., still dark.   Had just a hair over seven miles to go, but in those seven miles were five different peaks to cross. I breathed the fire back to life and began breaking down camp. Our last reliable weather report still had significant weather pulling into the area from the west around noon.   Neither of us knew more than the elevation of each mountain we’d have to pass, and most of our experience has been hiking in the Ozarks.

All I knew was that bad weather was coming, my Yota was parked in a flash flood area, and there were several low-water bridges between the trailhead and home.   Even after that, we’d be driving northeast through the storm if we didn’t get out in time.

We were on the trail by 6:30. I accidentally packed an extra raincoat, one of those bright red ponchos from the Walmart Duck Dynasty/Bear Grylls department. Because I hate hiking in a raincoat, I just used it as a pack cover – which provided me with the unintended but wholly awesome effect of having a Superman cape on my backpack.

Since we were heading northward, Brush Heap Mountain was just a 360’ climb about two miles out of camp.   Just enough time to get the lungs working and warm up the legs. We both took our sweet time on the 709’ downhill into Blaylock Creek.

It started raining off and on, lightly, at 7:00.   The views, even in an overcast and raincloudy day were just breathtaking. I can’t wait to see them on a clear day in late Fall or even again in early Spring.

 

 

 

The next few hours I spent climbing mountains mostly alone. I’d meet Kat at the summit where he’d been resting and, since I took my resting on the climb . . . we’d meet, make a comment about one down or about running out of mountain or something . . . and I’d head on down while he put his pack back on.

 

I won’t lie and say it was easy, but it certainly wasn’t as hard as either of us were expecting. I have to admire the marked reduction in switchbacks and the gradient was just perfect for a long, languid slog. Just my pace.

 

 

Saw these trees a few times, no idea what they are. This was in an almost tropical area on the north side of Brush Mountain.

We started coming across trashed campsites after Brier Creek Mountain, so Kat and I broke out the plastic bags and gathered up what we could.   Amazes me, still, what some folks will leave behind. We humped out parts of a percolator, a folding shovel, various bits of plastic and foil packaging. In the last site, right before Hurricane Mountain, I found a trashed food bag all chewed up by animals. Had a few packets of tuna fish & drink mix in it along with a nice pair of Columbia shorts, a long-sleeved undershirt, and some long underwear. All looking in pretty new condition.

That led to some humorous verbal pondering about who may be running ahead of us pants-less and confused.   I took the clothes home to clean ‘em so, well, if they’re yours and you end up realizing at the end of the hike that you don’t have any pants on . . . drop me a line and I’ll send them back.   Your trash, though, we went ahead and left in a Mena trash can.   Where, you know, it belongs.

Most of my pictures from that part of the hike are shots of the mountain ahead of me to climb, then a turn-around shot of the one behind me I just climbed.  The air was misty-rainy so the pictures from that stretch aren’t great but a few turned out decently.

There were several clearings we came across while on the entire trail that looked like meadows cleared out by the Forest Service as feed areas for deer.  This one in particular just sort of appeared on the trail ahead of us near the end.

Kat said this pic really didn’t capture the effect of that red poncho/superman cape flowing out behind me as I cut through that Elysium Field.

Made it off the trail at 11:30 on the nose, those last few steps of the trail blurring into a cheeseburger march. My Yota still sitting pretty where I left her. A fine light rain was coming down, but nothing like the toad-strangler we were expecting. We tossed the poles into the bed and crammed our packs into the back seat.   I stopped long enough to get a picture of the Flash Flood sign and then tore out in a direction other than the one we came in from.

On the way out, I was tear-assing down a dirt road when Kat urgently commanded me to ‘Stop! Stop, you have to turn around!”   He was wiggling around like a puppy on his first truck ride, which is not at all a usual affect for him.   Grateful for my tailgate camera, I 3-pointed the Yota around and turned into a low, off-the road parking area/campsite that was positively trashed but behind it down a little skree embankment was this:

So we played a bit there, taking pictures, before heading all the way to Mena for gas and grub.   Asked a couple of older locals where to get a great burger and they pointed us toward the Limetree Restaurant.  Can’t say the buffet looked all that great, but the cheeseburgers went down just fine.  For dessert we cut across to McDonald’s and were treated to this last and final waterfall.  Not sure if it had a name, but we had a whole lot of fun imagining up one while we waited in the drive-through line.

Ty-D Falls? Porta Cascade?

 

Trip home was long but meteorologically uneventful.  The storms did turn out pretty bad, but they slammed into the center of the state rather than the western edge where we were.

Next step is to contact the Ranger Station down there and see about getting an ERL patch.

 

{Kat & I got lucky with the weather that day, but other folks in the state were hit pretty hard.   Read here for information on ways to help the tornado victims in Mayflower and Vilonia.}

 

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ERL – Anecdotal Aside

Mentioned earlier that I am an incurable people-watcher.  There was one girl I saw out on the trail that didn’t make it into that day’s trip report, but still lingers in my mind.   Was a good-sized group, looked like a family outing.   We came across them somewhere along the southern, maybe south-eastern stretch of the ERL Saturday morning.

All of them were heading along in day-hiker garb, ranging about three generations in age but none of them looking too young to drive.   Kat and I stood to the side and let them pass.  Not much was said, just a few nods.  Little eye contact.   Me staring and watching like my Momma didn’t raise me right.    They head on and we get back to the trail.

Few minutes later, slowly and laboriously making her way up behind them was the last member of the group.  Alone.   She asked Kat, “Did they forget me?” in a kind of embarrassed, self-aware way that spoke volumes.   I heard her say, “I’m so done with this . . . ” as she passed us by, red-faced and breathing hard.

Kat said something encouraging, and I tried to as well.  Told her to hike her own hike, that I’m always the one bringing up the rear.

I hope, at the end of the day, she felt that sense of pride and accomplishment that comes from stepping off a trail you know was probably too hard for you, but you did it anyway.  I hope she allowed herself permission to compete with only the one person she should ever worry about chasing or outpacing – herself.

I wish she could know that of all the folks I encountered on the trail that day, she was the one I liked and admired the most after just a few passing seconds of shared ground.    I hope she isn’t done with this, even though I’ve cursed many a mountain and many a rocky mile myself.

The next hike is always easier, always harder, and always worth putting your boots back on for.    There’s always someone younger or in better shape somewhere ahead of you, higher up on the mountain.  But they all end up at the same trailhead eventually.

 

 

 

Posted in Backpacking, Eagle Rock Loop, Ouachita Mountains, Random Off-Trail Musings, Trip Report | Tagged , , , , , | 2 Comments