Buckeye Trail Work and The First Time I Actually Thought I'd Have to Use an Emergency Blanket
Buckeye Trail Work and The First Time I Actually Thought I'd Have to Use an Emergency Blanket
by Jay on Sun Oct 26, 2008 4:18 pm
As Tom (Ouachita Hiker) posted, we worked our butts off clearing the Buckeye Trail yesterday. We clipped, snipped, whacked, lopped and sawed our way back and forth across the ridge top along the (apparently recently rerouted longer) trail, up and down, for 8 or so hours. Watch out, by the way, for a scary tree that's hanging precariously somewhere between miles 2 and 3 (Tom?). Tom and I spent a good while sawing and sawing and sawing to clear it off the trail and managed to made it quite a bit safer, but there was only so much we could do.
Once we finally made the long decent off the mountain and into the cool woods, the trail was improving slightly and our spirits were high. "Less lopping and more walking" became our motto. We had spent a little too long working trail and now we were getting to the point that we were racing nightfall.
Tom and I had started talking about an exit strategy that might spare us some trouble later. Since we had changed our minds earlier in the day about doing an out-and-back work day on the Buckeye, and decided to do the Buckeye/Caney Creek Loop instead, our vehicles were still parked a mile or so up the hill at the Buckeye trailhead. Let me emphasize up the hill. So I was trying to get a lead on Tom and Janet (Outlawhiker), so I could get on up to the vehicles and drive back down to Caney Creek to pick them up when they emerged, which would gain me invaluable points with Janet because she's the kind of girl a guy just wants to impress.
Then came a pivotal moment for me; a lesson I will remember for the rest of my life.
I stopped to take a break, eat an energy bar (my only food), rest my legs, and dump my last half liter of water into my camelbak. As I sat back, listening to the wind whisper through the changing leaves, I felt a little chill run up my spine. It was getting late in the day. Night was coming. None of us had any real gear to speak of, and these trails were much too difficult to follow at night. On top of that, I knew there wasn't going to be much of a moon so it was going to be DARK out here at night. And cold.
I had never been out here before, but I had gotten a brief look at a map early in the day. I knew the Caney Creek trail headed back to the East and I knew there would be a cairn marking the place where the trails went their separate ways; Tom had said so. I heard Tom and Janet come up behind me and sit to take a break of their own, just around a bend in the trail. I decided I had better make a hard push.
I yelled back to Tom: "I'm heading out. I'll see you guys down there," meaning at Katy Falls.
"Okay," Tom yelled back.
Then I should've said: "Which way do I turn at the cairn, if I decide to go on?" which was becoming my plan. But I didn't. Why? I don't know. Rampant stupidity, I guess.
So I hiked fast and hard, pumping across the land like a machine running on premium gasoline. I was gonna get to those trucks before dark, whatever it took. Janet would be so proud.
I reached the cairn. Such a harmless little pile of stones: Three feet tall, friendly and helpful; like a little Yoda standing in the woods ready to help any passing Jedi. "The right way, this is," he would say. Unfortunately, that's not how it happened.
The trail I was on appeared to continue to the West, and the other direction, toward the falls, headed East. I reasoned with myself:
"Self," I said. "We have to head East somewhere, and we've been heading West for a long time. Here's this cairn here, telling me the trail changes, so it only makes sense, right?"
Wrong.
I turned left and headed toward the falls, then passed them. The afternoon sun stayed at my back, so I knew I was heading East; the right way. I came to a creek crossing, refilled my water, and continued on. At the top of the bank, a dog stepped out and started barking at me. There were two guys camping up there.
"Hey! How's it going guys?" I said. Everything was fine and they assured me that I was heading the right direction to get back to the road. But, they said, they had hiked out that way for ten minutes and lost the trail, so they were just going to make camp for the night and try it again in the morning. Smart, I thought.
I stayed and chatted with them, waiting to see if Tom and Janet would catch up, just to confirm I had chosen the right direction. They didn't show. I waited longer. Still nothing. Now I was getting worried. Apparently, they had yelled for me down by the falls, but I hadn't heard them above the sound of the nearby water. I decided to continue on, though there were only a couple of hours of daylight left. One of the men, Dan, I think his name was, lent me an emergency blanket in case I ended up having to spend the night out. I was grateful. I had a firesteel in my pocket (which I always carry--even to the grocery store) but other than that, I had only a capilene baselayer top to stay warm.
After only five or ten minutes of hard hiking, I realized that the trail was indeed disappearing. This can't be right, I thought. Tom had said the trail would be pretty good. I headed back to the campsite. I was worried enough now that these guys could tell and offered support in any way they could. I was also worried that maybe Tom or Janet took a fall or got hurt somehow and that's why they hadn't shown up; I wasn't yet totally convinced I was lost. Time to backtrack.
I went back to the cairn and whistled and called out. Nothing. I went all the way back up the Buckeye trail to where I'd last seen them. Nothing. I went back to the cairn and started down the other direction (which, I'd later discover, was the right direction) but I was convinced that it was the portion of the trail that continued on West toward Oklahoma, so I didn't go very far that way. I headed all the way back to the campsite to inquire about other trails the campers had mentioned.
One crossed over the falls, but they didn't know where it went. There was one across the creek from the campsite that continued on toward the East. That must be it. Again I headed out, hoping I was on the right track. I had burned a lot of daylight already and the prospect of sleeping out was becoming more real every minute; a prospect I didn't like.
I should note that all of my running around up to this point was just that: running. I was hoofing it. So I hauled the mail down this trail--which was more established than the other side of the creek, but still not that good--for 20 or so minutes before I heard the dogs barking back at the campsite. Must be Tom and Janet coming through, I thought. I was feeling relieved as I tore through the woods back toward the campsite. Again.
I walked up to find seven men on horseback standing around the campsite waiting for a lost friend of theirs to show up. I joked with the two guys camping there that it must be the day for losing people and getting lost. No Tom and Janet. The horsemen assured me that they knew the way back to the road and that's where they were heading once their friend showed up. We waited a long time. I fidgeted as the sun sank closer and closer to the mountaintops. I was wet and the air was gaining a strong chill.
The horses finally headed out, going back toward the cairn. I was out of options, so I followed. I shrugged to one of the campers on my way out and said: "We'll see." The fact that I was in close proximity to a horse’s ass when I spoke carried with it an ironic sense of myself at that moment. I almost fell down crossing the creek. Again.
The next problem to confront me was a simple one: Mortal men can't keep up with horses. Go ahead and try. Sure, you'll stay up with them for awhile, but my grandmother was a champion mall walker with whom I had to run full-tilt to keep up with as a child, and she wouldn't have stood a chance against these equine speedsters. To make matters worse, they ventured off the trail; no problem for them, but the task of bushwacking at top speed through the deep leaves and debris of the forest floor was a tiring, if not totally exhausting event.
Once the sliver of remaining sun had been at my back long enough to convince me that this trail was indeed heading East for good, I relaxed my pace and began a slow march toward darkness. There was no way I would make it out before dark, and I doubted I could follow the trail once the light had been vanquished. I would get as far as I could.
I had been working hard and on the move since just after daylight and I was getting seriously fatigued now. "Just keep going," I said to myself. "That's all you can do." I plugged along for a long time.
Then, way up ahead, I saw a glimpse of a person rounding a bend. My pace involuntarily quickened. Just as darkness began to consume the trail, I caught up with Tom and Janet. Tom had a little flashlight. We were all fatigued. Sadly, I must admit that I was worse for the wear than either of them, although I can also say with a clear conscience that my long detour contributed a great deal to that. We had a mile or so left to exit the woods and another mile up the road to the vehicles. Every step was a challenge. I was truly hurting by this time, and my cohorts were feeling it too.
The darkness was total. Without the light, I don't think we could've held the trail. We did our best to keep from toppling over the myriad roots, rocks, drop-offs, and branches littering the trail. Each of us stumbled in turn. The final stretch was absolute hell, but we emerged from the woods just as the temperature began to dive and madness was setting in.
I told Tom to give me a minute to allow my back spasms to stop, and I'd go for the vehicles, but he insisted I stay with Janet and Dusty "The Trail Dog." (Dusty, by the way, was as fatigued as the rest of us, but he didn't complain, not even once; though, he did ask for a ride occasionally.) I only put up a small fight with Tom on the issue because I was so exhausted. Honor be damned, I was too tired to stop him. He and his light disappeared onto the road and Janet and I sat in the darkness laughing like crazies in a rubber room. We were delirious and miserable and happy all at once.
Not two minutes after Tom had departed, we heard a vehicle coming. A four-wheeler came zipping passed as we sat at the trailhead fence. The ATV turned around and pointed his headlights at us momentarily before venturing up.
"Ya'll having trouble?" the man said. He had a woman on behind him, but we couldn’t see her in the darkness.
"We just got out of the woods after being in there for thirteen hours," I said, "and one of our group is headed up the road to get a vehicle." Another four-wheeler pulled up with only the rider on board. "If you have an extra seat, I know he'd love to catch a ride," I hinted directly.
The single rider spun around and sprinted toward Tom. Janet and I thanked them like they had just yanked us out of quicksand. We talked with the man and wife about how he'd been hunting all week and only got one squirrel, and how good the cooking is in Louisiana (his home state) and then we thanked him about ten more times.
About the time our ATV saviors roared off down the gravel, Tom came pulling up; his big white truck like a chariot from heaven. We gathered our wet clothes and trail tools and limped to the truck. We laughed some more about the whole situation and I gazed out the window into the pitch black night and wondered how I would've done had I been forced to use an emergency blanket for the first time in my life.
Once we finally made the long decent off the mountain and into the cool woods, the trail was improving slightly and our spirits were high. "Less lopping and more walking" became our motto. We had spent a little too long working trail and now we were getting to the point that we were racing nightfall.
Tom and I had started talking about an exit strategy that might spare us some trouble later. Since we had changed our minds earlier in the day about doing an out-and-back work day on the Buckeye, and decided to do the Buckeye/Caney Creek Loop instead, our vehicles were still parked a mile or so up the hill at the Buckeye trailhead. Let me emphasize up the hill. So I was trying to get a lead on Tom and Janet (Outlawhiker), so I could get on up to the vehicles and drive back down to Caney Creek to pick them up when they emerged, which would gain me invaluable points with Janet because she's the kind of girl a guy just wants to impress.
Then came a pivotal moment for me; a lesson I will remember for the rest of my life.
I stopped to take a break, eat an energy bar (my only food), rest my legs, and dump my last half liter of water into my camelbak. As I sat back, listening to the wind whisper through the changing leaves, I felt a little chill run up my spine. It was getting late in the day. Night was coming. None of us had any real gear to speak of, and these trails were much too difficult to follow at night. On top of that, I knew there wasn't going to be much of a moon so it was going to be DARK out here at night. And cold.
I had never been out here before, but I had gotten a brief look at a map early in the day. I knew the Caney Creek trail headed back to the East and I knew there would be a cairn marking the place where the trails went their separate ways; Tom had said so. I heard Tom and Janet come up behind me and sit to take a break of their own, just around a bend in the trail. I decided I had better make a hard push.
I yelled back to Tom: "I'm heading out. I'll see you guys down there," meaning at Katy Falls.
"Okay," Tom yelled back.
Then I should've said: "Which way do I turn at the cairn, if I decide to go on?" which was becoming my plan. But I didn't. Why? I don't know. Rampant stupidity, I guess.
So I hiked fast and hard, pumping across the land like a machine running on premium gasoline. I was gonna get to those trucks before dark, whatever it took. Janet would be so proud.
I reached the cairn. Such a harmless little pile of stones: Three feet tall, friendly and helpful; like a little Yoda standing in the woods ready to help any passing Jedi. "The right way, this is," he would say. Unfortunately, that's not how it happened.
The trail I was on appeared to continue to the West, and the other direction, toward the falls, headed East. I reasoned with myself:
"Self," I said. "We have to head East somewhere, and we've been heading West for a long time. Here's this cairn here, telling me the trail changes, so it only makes sense, right?"
Wrong.
I turned left and headed toward the falls, then passed them. The afternoon sun stayed at my back, so I knew I was heading East; the right way. I came to a creek crossing, refilled my water, and continued on. At the top of the bank, a dog stepped out and started barking at me. There were two guys camping up there.
"Hey! How's it going guys?" I said. Everything was fine and they assured me that I was heading the right direction to get back to the road. But, they said, they had hiked out that way for ten minutes and lost the trail, so they were just going to make camp for the night and try it again in the morning. Smart, I thought.
I stayed and chatted with them, waiting to see if Tom and Janet would catch up, just to confirm I had chosen the right direction. They didn't show. I waited longer. Still nothing. Now I was getting worried. Apparently, they had yelled for me down by the falls, but I hadn't heard them above the sound of the nearby water. I decided to continue on, though there were only a couple of hours of daylight left. One of the men, Dan, I think his name was, lent me an emergency blanket in case I ended up having to spend the night out. I was grateful. I had a firesteel in my pocket (which I always carry--even to the grocery store) but other than that, I had only a capilene baselayer top to stay warm.
After only five or ten minutes of hard hiking, I realized that the trail was indeed disappearing. This can't be right, I thought. Tom had said the trail would be pretty good. I headed back to the campsite. I was worried enough now that these guys could tell and offered support in any way they could. I was also worried that maybe Tom or Janet took a fall or got hurt somehow and that's why they hadn't shown up; I wasn't yet totally convinced I was lost. Time to backtrack.
I went back to the cairn and whistled and called out. Nothing. I went all the way back up the Buckeye trail to where I'd last seen them. Nothing. I went back to the cairn and started down the other direction (which, I'd later discover, was the right direction) but I was convinced that it was the portion of the trail that continued on West toward Oklahoma, so I didn't go very far that way. I headed all the way back to the campsite to inquire about other trails the campers had mentioned.
One crossed over the falls, but they didn't know where it went. There was one across the creek from the campsite that continued on toward the East. That must be it. Again I headed out, hoping I was on the right track. I had burned a lot of daylight already and the prospect of sleeping out was becoming more real every minute; a prospect I didn't like.
I should note that all of my running around up to this point was just that: running. I was hoofing it. So I hauled the mail down this trail--which was more established than the other side of the creek, but still not that good--for 20 or so minutes before I heard the dogs barking back at the campsite. Must be Tom and Janet coming through, I thought. I was feeling relieved as I tore through the woods back toward the campsite. Again.
I walked up to find seven men on horseback standing around the campsite waiting for a lost friend of theirs to show up. I joked with the two guys camping there that it must be the day for losing people and getting lost. No Tom and Janet. The horsemen assured me that they knew the way back to the road and that's where they were heading once their friend showed up. We waited a long time. I fidgeted as the sun sank closer and closer to the mountaintops. I was wet and the air was gaining a strong chill.
The horses finally headed out, going back toward the cairn. I was out of options, so I followed. I shrugged to one of the campers on my way out and said: "We'll see." The fact that I was in close proximity to a horse’s ass when I spoke carried with it an ironic sense of myself at that moment. I almost fell down crossing the creek. Again.
The next problem to confront me was a simple one: Mortal men can't keep up with horses. Go ahead and try. Sure, you'll stay up with them for awhile, but my grandmother was a champion mall walker with whom I had to run full-tilt to keep up with as a child, and she wouldn't have stood a chance against these equine speedsters. To make matters worse, they ventured off the trail; no problem for them, but the task of bushwacking at top speed through the deep leaves and debris of the forest floor was a tiring, if not totally exhausting event.
Once the sliver of remaining sun had been at my back long enough to convince me that this trail was indeed heading East for good, I relaxed my pace and began a slow march toward darkness. There was no way I would make it out before dark, and I doubted I could follow the trail once the light had been vanquished. I would get as far as I could.
I had been working hard and on the move since just after daylight and I was getting seriously fatigued now. "Just keep going," I said to myself. "That's all you can do." I plugged along for a long time.
Then, way up ahead, I saw a glimpse of a person rounding a bend. My pace involuntarily quickened. Just as darkness began to consume the trail, I caught up with Tom and Janet. Tom had a little flashlight. We were all fatigued. Sadly, I must admit that I was worse for the wear than either of them, although I can also say with a clear conscience that my long detour contributed a great deal to that. We had a mile or so left to exit the woods and another mile up the road to the vehicles. Every step was a challenge. I was truly hurting by this time, and my cohorts were feeling it too.
The darkness was total. Without the light, I don't think we could've held the trail. We did our best to keep from toppling over the myriad roots, rocks, drop-offs, and branches littering the trail. Each of us stumbled in turn. The final stretch was absolute hell, but we emerged from the woods just as the temperature began to dive and madness was setting in.
I told Tom to give me a minute to allow my back spasms to stop, and I'd go for the vehicles, but he insisted I stay with Janet and Dusty "The Trail Dog." (Dusty, by the way, was as fatigued as the rest of us, but he didn't complain, not even once; though, he did ask for a ride occasionally.) I only put up a small fight with Tom on the issue because I was so exhausted. Honor be damned, I was too tired to stop him. He and his light disappeared onto the road and Janet and I sat in the darkness laughing like crazies in a rubber room. We were delirious and miserable and happy all at once.
Not two minutes after Tom had departed, we heard a vehicle coming. A four-wheeler came zipping passed as we sat at the trailhead fence. The ATV turned around and pointed his headlights at us momentarily before venturing up.
"Ya'll having trouble?" the man said. He had a woman on behind him, but we couldn’t see her in the darkness.
"We just got out of the woods after being in there for thirteen hours," I said, "and one of our group is headed up the road to get a vehicle." Another four-wheeler pulled up with only the rider on board. "If you have an extra seat, I know he'd love to catch a ride," I hinted directly.
The single rider spun around and sprinted toward Tom. Janet and I thanked them like they had just yanked us out of quicksand. We talked with the man and wife about how he'd been hunting all week and only got one squirrel, and how good the cooking is in Louisiana (his home state) and then we thanked him about ten more times.
About the time our ATV saviors roared off down the gravel, Tom came pulling up; his big white truck like a chariot from heaven. We gathered our wet clothes and trail tools and limped to the truck. We laughed some more about the whole situation and I gazed out the window into the pitch black night and wondered how I would've done had I been forced to use an emergency blanket for the first time in my life.
Last edited by Jay on Mon Oct 27, 2008 3:44 pm; edited 1 time in total
Re: Buckeye Trail Work and The First Time I Actually Thought I'd Have to Use an Emergency Blanket
by ouachita hiker on Sun Oct 26, 2008 6:08 pm
Jay,
We are still in pain man! It hurt so bad to laugh at your "report". We will have to do it again soon, just not for 13 hrs.! I posted my report on arkansashiking yahoo group. I had one person contact me that is will to help on the Caney trail. We will probably go in on Sat. before Thanksgiving and the Sat. after Thanksgiving. By the way it is a SHE. Right now I will take any help I can get!
OH and Outlawpacker
We are still in pain man! It hurt so bad to laugh at your "report". We will have to do it again soon, just not for 13 hrs.! I posted my report on arkansashiking yahoo group. I had one person contact me that is will to help on the Caney trail. We will probably go in on Sat. before Thanksgiving and the Sat. after Thanksgiving. By the way it is a SHE. Right now I will take any help I can get!
OH and Outlawpacker
Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature's peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop off like autumn leaves. John Muir
Friends of the Ouachita Trail
http://www.friendsot.org/
My web pictures:
http://community.webshots.com/user/trigg_tom
Friends of the Ouachita Trail
http://www.friendsot.org/
My web pictures:
http://community.webshots.com/user/trigg_tom
Re: Buckeye Trail Work and The First Time I Actually Thought I'd Have to Use an Emergency Blanket
by luke102280 on Mon Oct 27, 2008 12:37 pm
It just wasn't our weekend Jay now was it? Still sore, I know I am, everyone in the office wants to know why I'm hobbling around 
Re: Buckeye Trail Work and The First Time I Actually Thought I'd Have to Use an Emergency Blanket
by ouachita hiker on Mon Oct 27, 2008 3:31 pm
THIS IS HILLARIOUS!!!!!! Man, what were you thinking, trying to keep up with the old folks!!! Just goes to show, we still have it and you will get it someday! HA! Hey, What can I say! I showed you the map so you wouldn't get lost and now I think I will have to get you a cow bell so I can keep up with you on the trail! (Or is that a Mtn. goat bell)? Can't be loosing good friends and good help like that! Ha!
Putting all jokes aside, it was a great day, a very tiring and long day to say the lease. You know, come to think of it, those guys on the horses said they offered you a ride out but you just wouldn't get up on one of their horses. What's the matter Jay?
Just had to put in one more!
What's the saying, majority rules! Well, I'm setting my foot down next time and not just on the trail. We will all have lights, etc. beforeing setting out. We have a tendency to change out minds when we get going so thus we will be prepared for our next change. What you think?
You can't say we dont' have adventure when we are hiking or working. It's just great having good friends and fun and work all tied up in one neat package.
Come and join our little family. We would love to have you!!!!
Outlawpacker,
(by the way, I love packing and out mascot is the Outlaws, a wild mustang) thus the name outlawpacker, I'm really a good gal.
Re: Buckeye Trail Work and The First Time I Actually Thought I'd Have to Use an Emergency Blanket
by ouachita hiker on Mon Oct 27, 2008 7:25 pm
Jay,
By the way I still have a spare compass that knows East from West! By the way I have all ways told folks just follow the stream, in your case up stream. Well the next time we go in we can have a horse carry our gear! We will have a intreped crew for sure this time!
OH
By the way I still have a spare compass that knows East from West! By the way I have all ways told folks just follow the stream, in your case up stream. Well the next time we go in we can have a horse carry our gear! We will have a intreped crew for sure this time!
OH
Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature's peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop off like autumn leaves. John Muir
Friends of the Ouachita Trail
http://www.friendsot.org/
My web pictures:
http://community.webshots.com/user/trigg_tom
Friends of the Ouachita Trail
http://www.friendsot.org/
My web pictures:
http://community.webshots.com/user/trigg_tom
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