Greetings, blogwatchers. For those of you who have followed my various travel and shenanigans over the years, you know sometimes I sign myself up for all sorts of nonsense and crazy schemes. Then, when I’m armpits-deep in whatever crazy task I’ve set myself, I’ve also been known to engage in some profound introspection, usually in the shape of the question “what the actual fuck is wrong with me?”. I fear I may have another one to share with you all.
No, not a bear swimming costume photoshoot this time (WYKYK) or living another week in a pre-Internet decade (never again) – but something that will require real-world effort, sweat and (likely) tears. Over the years, I’ve been known to dabble in hiking now and again. My initial interest stemmed from a camping trip suggested by my BF at the time (thinking back, it was an awfully brave (or dumb) thing to suggest to someone you’d just started dating). And I guess it was equally brave (or dumb) for me to have accepted the invitation – a full-on camping trip (with tents and sleeping bags and bugs and the like) isn’t exactly everyone’s Cup Of Tea. I had no idea if I was going to Love It or Loathe It.
Turns out, I LOVED it. It might have been the plethora of inventive gadgets that camping gives you an excuse to buy (collapsible kitchen sink, anyone?) or the fun of cooking with tiny pans and unidentifiable freeze-dried ingredients. It might have been the joy of getting dirt under your fingernails and just not caring. Or that first cup of tea in the morning, where you sit, still wrapped up in your toasty duvet, gazing out of your tent, watching your breath and the steam from your tea curl up and away into the misty woods, listening to the sounds of nature and distant farting from your fellow sleeping campers. Over the years, I’ve hiked in Peru, Patagonia (twice), Nicaragua, Costa Rica, New Zealand and, of course, here in the US.
Up until this year, however, I have mainly been what is called a “front country” or car camper (with the exception of a canoe camping trip to the Adirondacks many many moons ago). “Front country” generally refers to those campsites that you can easily access with a car or RV. They tend to have all the perks of flush toilets and showers and there is usually a store where you can buy your Smores and White Claw for those late nights round the campfire. They are also usually inundated with a shit ton of screaming kids and harassed looking parents who are in the throes of profoundly Questioning Their Choices (ie why TF did we have kids?). They tend to be most popular over the weekend, due to sheer convenience, and they can be fun – but you will have a different experience vs being out in the boonies in the “backcountry”.
Now, there are some front country campgrounds that you will need to hike into (usually just a short yomp from the car park) but – for the most part – you’ll be driving, giving rise to the wonderful thing that is Car Camping. This is basically is a mobile form of glamping where you can shove everything into your car without regard to weight or size (obvs it still needs to be smaller than your car or tent) to enhance the comfort of your stay (inflatable Aerobed, anyone? 4 ring gas stove?). Over the years, I developed my own style called “Champagne Car Camping” – the key components being a giant bag of ice, a tasty bottle of Perrier Jouet and the foresight to put both inside a plastic carrier bag so it doesn’t leak all over the rental car. While I am always partial to a nice glass of bubbles, there is something even douchier about enjoying it in nature, under bright orange lightweight double ripstop nylon.
SIDEBAR: Tent technology has come a LONG way in the last 20yrs, btw. I remember my first tent was an exercise in brinkmanship – an existential struggle between you and the tent poles. Would they easily glide through the tent body pockets as intended – or would they snag and bunch up inside or – even worse -make a break for it and punch a hole through your tent wall instead? Fun. Now, however, these tents pretty much erect themselves (I tried to think of a better way to phrase that, btw, but failed). My tent of choice is the Big Agnes Copper Spur (here’s the link – you’re welcome: click here) and its so easy, I defy ANYONE not to be able to figure it out. I have this tent in both the 1P and 2P configuration and LOVE it. Its got tons of nerdy features and a bunch of internal pockets and storage cubbies that become surprisingly important when you are out In The Wilds and need to reach for your headlamp and/or ear plugs in the dead of night. (that’s another existential choice for you – its the dead of night and you hear a rustling noise outside your tent. Do you a) grab your headlamp and go investigate or b) stick your earplugs in and go back to sleep? As it happens, this existential choice is academic for me – once I’ve woken up in the middle of the night, I know I’ll have to get up and have a pee, irrespective of how many bears, spiders or axe-murderers there may be lurking outside).
But I digress. So my prior camping and hiking experiences have been pretty relaxed affairs, with no real restriction on weight or thought given to whether I Really Need That. If it fit in my backpack or car trunk, in it went. That heavy battery pack to charge up my phone? I’ll take two of those just to be on the safe side. A change of clothes after each day of sweaty hiking? Got it. A ton of wet wipes and deodorant to keep me smelling sweet (not sweat) on the trail? Check. A couple of books and a Kindle to read, after crashing early for the night? You betcha.
Don’t get me wrong – I’ve done some badass hiking in my past (looking at you, Peru Salkantay Pass trek) but up until this year, I’ve shied away from going the Full Monty and committing to a backpacking trip where I haul my own shit around for a week (not literally……well, not yet). I’m not 100% why – but probably because its REALLY HARD WORK. However, as this is the year where I’m getting fitter and challenging myself (before my eventual descent into decrepitude), it finally felt right to pop my backpacking cherry and sign up for a trip.
My go-to hiking peeps here in the US is a company called Fitpacking. You can check out their website here: https://fitpacking.com/ They offer a wide range of trips all over the US – both day hiking and backpacking, covering the full spectrum of nice, easy (ie flat) hikes through the woods (level 1) to HOLY SHIT, MY LUNGS ARE ABOUT TO EXPLODE (level 5). The day hikes I’d done previously were level 2, so I decided to not bite off more than I could chew for my first ever backpacking trip and sign up for a level 2. Level 2 means that it shouldn’t be too difficult, if you have a decent level of fitness, and that the elevation gains and losses (which are a BFD) are pretty modest. My chosen trip – to hike 45 miles across the length of Isle Royale, a national park island situated in Lake Superior, up near the Canadian border. If you are interested, here are the deets for the trip on the website: https://fitpacking.com/_2024/IsleRoyaleNationalPark?Previous=1
One of the main features of the National Park is its remoteness – it takes a lot of pride in being one of the least visited (hence most unspoiled) national parks in the US. Given the only way to get there is a SUUUUUUUUUPER slow and noisy ferry ride from the dock yard at Grand Portage in MN to Windigo, I can understand why! (oh – and on the way back, the ferry ride takes a full 7 hours as you are coming from the other end of the island!). The route we were going to be taking across the island was also relatively un-trafficked, as most visitors tend to stay close to the two main boat docks and associated amenities. Great from the perspective of being at one with nature, free to listen to the steady THRUMMMM of millions of mosquitoes undisturbed, not quite so great in terms of how well maintained the trails were. Which is a polite way of saying – in places – the trail totally went to shit. It wasn’t helped by the fact that, on our second night under canvas, there was a MASSIVE thunderstorm that turned what were already squishy paths into thick, gloopy, sticky bogs. The going underfoot was hard – in addition to the muddy squelch which seeped into your boots and made your socks wet, you had to navigate rocks and hidden tree roots and waist high brush. In places the trail completely disappeared under water – sometimes we were able to find a way round, other times we had to VERY precariously teeter totter our way over the water on a fallen log. Not ideal at the best of times – and certainly not when you are still getting used to carrying a 40lb backpack!!
Turned out it was also breeding season for the mosquitoes so I’m not exaggerating when I say that you were unable to stop for a break in certain areas as they would descend on you like a thick blanket – despite being covered in head to toe DEET! I think I raised my bug net off my face only a handful of times during my entire trip to Isle Royale! Given all this, its pretty safe to say I was not very impressed with my life choices for at least the first day and a half. That first morning was especially brutal, as your pack is at its heaviest, laden down with not only your gear but your share of the camp food and equipment. Your legs, back and shoulders are screaming at you wondering just what The Actual F is going on, and what they are doing here?! Most of my inner dialogue for those first 48hrs or so was mostly swearing. Not much inner peace or tranquility to be seen.
But you know – the strangest thing happened. As the week progressed and as my pack got lighter and my legs got stronger, I started to actually Not Hate It Quite As Much. In fact, on the mid-morning of day 4, I distinctly remember having the thought “Well, this isn’t quite so
bad, really”. By day 5, I had graduated to mild enjoyment for most of the day and then by Day 6 (last day), I was actually genuinely having a fun time. Yes – despite the ridiculous number of mossie bites (dozens), the unique odor I had developed from not having showered or changed clothes for 6 days plus having to walk the last day and a half on boots that were held together by string and sticky tape, I had somehow crossed over and become a fully-fledged backpacker. No more were my thoughts dominated by curse words and regret, but instead, my thoughts were of the various improvements I could make to my kit, to upgrade my sleeping system, to shave a few ounces off here or there. And in that moment, I realized – I was already mentally planning to do this again! The things I do for you, my dearest blogwatchers!!
I didn’t take too many pictures as I kept my phone mostly off for the week (to preserve battery life for the one time I was able to get a cell signal and send ManpanionTM a text to let him know I was still alive) but instead I thought you might enjoy the video at the top of this post (courtesy of Rick, one of our guides – you can visit his YouTube channel HowToWilderness) – it’ll give you a real flavor of what the trip was like.
With that, it’s time to get ready for my next adventure. More on that in my next post…..
Sunrise over Chickenbone Lake
