The trail finally broke on to a ridge line today, and my, what a view! The trail all around Martin's Hut was a morass of mud, but we eventually hit a series of grass-covered hills. Flax, lumps of grass, and white feathery/lacy lichens abound. I caught a spectacular view of both the coast that I've been hoofing the past couple days and my first snow-capped mountain sighting. The mountains are still a little faint and hazy, but man those ridges are awe-inspiring. While Sam & Ann have been trucking way faster than I have the past couple days, I met my first SOBOs today - folks from DC and Calgary!
Between balds, we hiked through the coolest looking woods. Knobbly trees with clumps of moss formed a dense but not impenetrable looking maze, and the entire forest floor was covered in sunburst-looking mosses. The morning wooded section was really wet and slippery. The poor footing combined with the elevation loss made my knees a little wimpy, and my toes joined in complaining since this was the first day with any real ups and downs.
By the time I hit my second gravel road (Merrivale), I was pretty tired. I still had ~8km to go to the nearest hitch. (It is time for a resupply, after all.) I got a ride with a farm hand into town. There was one town in either direction, so I took the first ride I could get on the highway. If no traffic is headed from Tuatapere back to this section tomorrow, I might skip the intervening, water-less 30km with indeterminate (or unallowed) camping that's scheduled for tomorrow.
I got into town just before 9. I'm holed up in a very pleasant and very empty hostel. I managed to sneak into the grocery store just before they closed for my resupply, and I'm now happily eating an entire box of those frozen mini eclairs. (Happy New Year!!) The mud and little pebbles from the past couple of days have made me start thinking about finding some Dirty Girl-esque gaiters. Hopefully, conditions will clean up a bit.
12.30.2015
Long Hilly Track to Martins Hut
The Long Hilly and Water Race tracks were smooth going! (At least the segments which were in good repair.) The track today wound through some cool damp woods all day, and excepting the first 10 minutes of the hike, I didn't see another soul until I made it to the hut. There was a sprinkling of rain off and on, and even when it wasn't raining, the cloud cover and deep woods kept things pretty dark.
For 20k of the hike, I was traipsing alongside and occasionally across a 5-7 foot deep trench dug by Chinese gold miners. 20k dug out of mud ages ago, and it's still holding up perfectly! Those were some hard-working guys. The stream and water race crossings were about 50% unbridged, so my quads and knees finally got some climbing workouts. In sketchier news, there were plenty of crossings where I'd be at least 6 ft above the stream/water race/muddy crevasse, with one bendy sapling bridging the two sides, no way to climb down into the pit and climb back up the other side, and so I engaged in the old favorite, chuck-your-pack-across-and-take-a-running-leap. There were also a bunch of blow-downs for me to navigate today. Huge trees would block the path, and I'd scramble over and through some woody, spiky brush. It certainly required all four limbs, and I'm exceedingly glad that I stuck with my GoreTex shell rather than looking for something lighter.
Even with the rain today, my feet and ankles are feeling stronger. I ended up at the hut after crossing the non-terrifying, non-swollen creek I've heard so much about and climbing the world's longest mud pit, ahem, a forest road up to the smoky, smoldering little fire Sam & Ann had built in a quaint and rather dilapidated hut. I've heard about and seen pictures of many nice New Zealand backcountry huts. This is not one of those. But it is still kind of cute, and I won't complain about a roof to keep the rain off my head tonight (even if it does come streaming through under the walls).
12.29.2015
Riverton to the Long Hilly Trailhead
Lovely coastline today, and my first adventure in following the TA as "marked." I started out climbing out of Riverton into a nice preserve full of cool, dark woods. They were tightly closed, damp, and twisty - mildly reminiscent of the Everglades, but not full of scary critters. After following a trail indicated at the trailhead as belonging to the TA, I promptly followed the wrong set of blazes. The TA is largely marked with orange blazes, as is nearly every trail maintained by the DOC. I got to choose between yellow and pink. Pink was not the right color to follow, but the really closed in single-track was pretty nifty. At least until I ran into 8' tall wire fences and had to loop back to where I started.
After my 2k detour, I emerged into some spectacular sheep country. Rolling meadows broken up by stands of flax ran down to a rocky coastline. Having never seen Scotland, the coasts made me think of Scotland. Up and down I went from beach to farm and back again. The property boundaries keep hikers on the beach as much as possible, but it does make the hike a bit more difficult. I ended up in a incredibly dangerous rocky, dead-end cove that was marked for the trail. I went down between tides, and at absolute low tide it might be passable. I had the waves lapping at my feet right against some cliff faces as I backtracked after realizing that the tide had already cut me off from the connecting segment of beach trail.
Following that coastal snafu, I zigzagging along farmland for a while. I had to stay as close to the beach as possible since the trail traverses private land, but carved away terrain, flax fences, and hip-deep grasses can make finding the steps that help you over sometimes-electrified fences interesting.
Eventually, I made it back on to the beach for a very uncomfortable amount of loose, pebbly beach. Rocky/pebbled coasts I don't mind, but ankle-twisty, gaiter-requiring patches are a whole other game. Thankfully, a couple km of road walking in flip flops and a giant, greasy lamb burger revived me for the last 4k of road walking up to the "cottage."
A school teacher and farmer rent out their yard at the beginning of the Long Hilly Track. I set up my tent in the yard, but they have a guest room that's usually available. I got to sit and chat with them, their kids (one four and three quarters and one five and three quarters year olds - and don't forget the three quarters!), and their visiting father all evening. They were even kind enough to share their chicken curry and apple pudding with me!
I'm glad that I've been able to get my legs and feet started up on this long, flat-ish beach segment, but I'm excited to get into the woods tomorrow. No sign of Sam & Ann, though they said they were aiming for the campground where I got my burger today.
After my 2k detour, I emerged into some spectacular sheep country. Rolling meadows broken up by stands of flax ran down to a rocky coastline. Having never seen Scotland, the coasts made me think of Scotland. Up and down I went from beach to farm and back again. The property boundaries keep hikers on the beach as much as possible, but it does make the hike a bit more difficult. I ended up in a incredibly dangerous rocky, dead-end cove that was marked for the trail. I went down between tides, and at absolute low tide it might be passable. I had the waves lapping at my feet right against some cliff faces as I backtracked after realizing that the tide had already cut me off from the connecting segment of beach trail.
Following that coastal snafu, I zigzagging along farmland for a while. I had to stay as close to the beach as possible since the trail traverses private land, but carved away terrain, flax fences, and hip-deep grasses can make finding the steps that help you over sometimes-electrified fences interesting.
Eventually, I made it back on to the beach for a very uncomfortable amount of loose, pebbly beach. Rocky/pebbled coasts I don't mind, but ankle-twisty, gaiter-requiring patches are a whole other game. Thankfully, a couple km of road walking in flip flops and a giant, greasy lamb burger revived me for the last 4k of road walking up to the "cottage."
A school teacher and farmer rent out their yard at the beginning of the Long Hilly Track. I set up my tent in the yard, but they have a guest room that's usually available. I got to sit and chat with them, their kids (one four and three quarters and one five and three quarters year olds - and don't forget the three quarters!), and their visiting father all evening. They were even kind enough to share their chicken curry and apple pudding with me!
I'm glad that I've been able to get my legs and feet started up on this long, flat-ish beach segment, but I'm excited to get into the woods tomorrow. No sign of Sam & Ann, though they said they were aiming for the campground where I got my burger today.
12.28.2015
Invercargill to Riverton
So, this morning I got up bright and early, grabbed my bounce box, and headed down to the NZ Post. Oh, right. I'm in a commonwealth country. One that makes sure everybody gets holiday time. It's the closest working day to Boxing Day. Dammit.
I wasted three hours of hiking time going to NZ shipping businesses (equivalents of UPS, FedEX, and ABF) and some desperate attempts to get people at the hostel to ship my bounce box, I wandered back into MacPac (one of NZ's REI equivalents) where one of the employees had at least been kind about telling me they didn't provide more than overnight DOC passes to the huts a few days ago. Thanks be for trail angels - Tracey was at work again! Oh, man. There is nothing like finding one of those genuinely caring types when you've flown off to the other side of the world and are attempting some good ole foolhardy adventure. Tracey not only got my gear set up for the shipping, she also just threw in MacPac's discounted shipping rate and ensured that the hostel I was sending it off to would hold onto the package until I get there. Bless her; I wish I could have bought her a few beer.
Around 11:30, I finally headed out of Invercargill for another long day of tramping. Thankfully, some outdoors bums gave me a 3-4k hitch along the road down to Oreti beach (after enough cars passed me by that I had mostly given up hoping for a ride to span the 8k of road). Oreti was pretty awesome. There was well-packed sand, lots of cool looking birds, and a surprising number of other folks out enjoying the beach (at least for the first 5k). I hit my half-ish way point, a river crossing that the trail notes warned could be tricky at high tide, right around 3. You guessed it - high tide! Well, I could follow the trail notes suggestions, wait until the tide receded (maybe 6) and hike the huge mileage remaining in the dark. I could also cross around dinner and camp at this river since it was the last non-ocean water source until Riverton (hopefully, it wouldn't be too brackish). Or I could test the waters and continue hoofing it to Riverton.
Right about the time I had decided to hop in halfway between the ocean and the last bend in the river, some off-roaders with snorkels drove up. I hopefully lingered, and right about the time my toes touched the water, one of the guys in the cab called me over. Hooray!
Not hooray, they were afraid that even with snorkel, their cars would be flooded. They did give me a reasonable idea of where to cross though, and so I bravely unclipped my pack, and waded across quite chilly, crotch-deep water. I had a quick lunch on the far side, and headed off to follow the coastline for another several hours. Right after the river ford, I had ~3k of pebble walking. I suppose I should be grateful for the way it wasn't going to fill my shoes with wet sand, but my shoes were already pretty well covered in that department. The pebbles and seashells were beautiful, though. Deep maroon spirals of shells shimmered all along that segment along with tiny iridescent teal shells and a rainbow of other little guys.
Finally, after 4+k of town/road walking and 20k of beach walking, my knackered self made it to the point on my map that looked like I was entering Riverton. Of course, there was a small bay between me and the town. Oh, and though the mouth looked pretty narrow, it turned out to be a nice river inlet. And I had another way-too-many-km to go upstream to the nearest highway, cross the river, come back to the shores, and then go all the way up across town to get to my hostel. Have I mentioned that my feet and joints were still smarting from the 30k walk I took yesterday? Have you ever walked 30k on sand and pebbles with smarting feet and joints? Lets just say that it's a good thing that I like going for walks and really like exploring new places outdoors.
Just a bit before 10pm (with the sun just starting to set - gotta love extreme latitudes in the summer), I bumbled my way in to the Riverton Holiday Park (think KOA-style lawn). The manager was an incredibly sweet lady who directed me to the kitchen, the showers, and the tent site of my first fellow TA NOBOs, Sam & Ann. Sam & Ann are a French couple who seem pretty reserved and pretty well beat, though they seem to think that at least the latter is also true of me. They might be right, tonight.
I've added a few more blisters today, my ankles are getting pretty swollen, and I've still got the weird rash where my socks cover my ankles. Nothing a good night of sleep, a good meal (if I can stay awake to finish it), and some washing can't help with.
I wasted three hours of hiking time going to NZ shipping businesses (equivalents of UPS, FedEX, and ABF) and some desperate attempts to get people at the hostel to ship my bounce box, I wandered back into MacPac (one of NZ's REI equivalents) where one of the employees had at least been kind about telling me they didn't provide more than overnight DOC passes to the huts a few days ago. Thanks be for trail angels - Tracey was at work again! Oh, man. There is nothing like finding one of those genuinely caring types when you've flown off to the other side of the world and are attempting some good ole foolhardy adventure. Tracey not only got my gear set up for the shipping, she also just threw in MacPac's discounted shipping rate and ensured that the hostel I was sending it off to would hold onto the package until I get there. Bless her; I wish I could have bought her a few beer.
Around 11:30, I finally headed out of Invercargill for another long day of tramping. Thankfully, some outdoors bums gave me a 3-4k hitch along the road down to Oreti beach (after enough cars passed me by that I had mostly given up hoping for a ride to span the 8k of road). Oreti was pretty awesome. There was well-packed sand, lots of cool looking birds, and a surprising number of other folks out enjoying the beach (at least for the first 5k). I hit my half-ish way point, a river crossing that the trail notes warned could be tricky at high tide, right around 3. You guessed it - high tide! Well, I could follow the trail notes suggestions, wait until the tide receded (maybe 6) and hike the huge mileage remaining in the dark. I could also cross around dinner and camp at this river since it was the last non-ocean water source until Riverton (hopefully, it wouldn't be too brackish). Or I could test the waters and continue hoofing it to Riverton.
Right about the time I had decided to hop in halfway between the ocean and the last bend in the river, some off-roaders with snorkels drove up. I hopefully lingered, and right about the time my toes touched the water, one of the guys in the cab called me over. Hooray!
Not hooray, they were afraid that even with snorkel, their cars would be flooded. They did give me a reasonable idea of where to cross though, and so I bravely unclipped my pack, and waded across quite chilly, crotch-deep water. I had a quick lunch on the far side, and headed off to follow the coastline for another several hours. Right after the river ford, I had ~3k of pebble walking. I suppose I should be grateful for the way it wasn't going to fill my shoes with wet sand, but my shoes were already pretty well covered in that department. The pebbles and seashells were beautiful, though. Deep maroon spirals of shells shimmered all along that segment along with tiny iridescent teal shells and a rainbow of other little guys.
Finally, after 4+k of town/road walking and 20k of beach walking, my knackered self made it to the point on my map that looked like I was entering Riverton. Of course, there was a small bay between me and the town. Oh, and though the mouth looked pretty narrow, it turned out to be a nice river inlet. And I had another way-too-many-km to go upstream to the nearest highway, cross the river, come back to the shores, and then go all the way up across town to get to my hostel. Have I mentioned that my feet and joints were still smarting from the 30k walk I took yesterday? Have you ever walked 30k on sand and pebbles with smarting feet and joints? Lets just say that it's a good thing that I like going for walks and really like exploring new places outdoors.
Just a bit before 10pm (with the sun just starting to set - gotta love extreme latitudes in the summer), I bumbled my way in to the Riverton Holiday Park (think KOA-style lawn). The manager was an incredibly sweet lady who directed me to the kitchen, the showers, and the tent site of my first fellow TA NOBOs, Sam & Ann. Sam & Ann are a French couple who seem pretty reserved and pretty well beat, though they seem to think that at least the latter is also true of me. They might be right, tonight.
I've added a few more blisters today, my ankles are getting pretty swollen, and I've still got the weird rash where my socks cover my ankles. Nothing a good night of sleep, a good meal (if I can stay awake to finish it), and some washing can't help with.
12.27.2015
Day 1 - Bluff to Invercargill
What a way to start a hike! Today, I trekked 24 miles (~35km) from Bluff Point to Invercargill.
Usually, hikers start at Stirling Point, but genius that I am, I just had to tag on an extra 2.4km for the scenic vista and a bit of forest. My shuttle driver recommended the view from Bluff Point, and I did really enjoy seeing the transition from lush forest to flax bushes on rocky coast, to rolling grazing coast, and back into some urban parks. The first 25k was smooth sailing, but the last ten were slow and increasingly uncomfy. Tons of flax and ferns early on, then meadows, roads, and, finally, estuary.
Starting at Stirling Point, the trail was along the rocky coast. Tons of folks were out to find the famous Bluff oysters. Soon enough, the trail headed inland across some sheep farms to the highway, and I got a full 16km dose of highway walking. Not much fun when you have to keep at least one foot in a grassy ditch due to traffic. That sort of thing tends to make your knees a little sore.
Usually, hikers start at Stirling Point, but genius that I am, I just had to tag on an extra 2.4km for the scenic vista and a bit of forest. My shuttle driver recommended the view from Bluff Point, and I did really enjoy seeing the transition from lush forest to flax bushes on rocky coast, to rolling grazing coast, and back into some urban parks. The first 25k was smooth sailing, but the last ten were slow and increasingly uncomfy. Tons of flax and ferns early on, then meadows, roads, and, finally, estuary.
Starting at Stirling Point, the trail was along the rocky coast. Tons of folks were out to find the famous Bluff oysters. Soon enough, the trail headed inland across some sheep farms to the highway, and I got a full 16km dose of highway walking. Not much fun when you have to keep at least one foot in a grassy ditch due to traffic. That sort of thing tends to make your knees a little sore.
The final 10k reminded me a bit of the Capitol City bike loop, but by then, I was wearing down. The estuary it crossed was full of nifty red grasses. Unfortunately, the last 2k were just hell on my feet, and the scenery couldn't save me. A few kilometers before I was going to get back into Bluff, I just collapsed on a log adjacent to a wastewater treatment plant. I got some water and some snacks, which gave me just enough motivation to make it into town. Nothing really says start of a grand adventure like wastewater treatment facility, you know.
Thankfully, I made it to my hostel safely, and collapsed for a good night's rest.
12.17.2015
T-Minus Seven Days
Well, with one week to go before I leave the US, things are pretty settled. My gear is clean, my things are nearly packed, and my first week's lodging is all arranged. GPX tracks and trail kilometer markings are all loaded on my phone, and additional trail maps and notes are printed and packed.
(Dirty tent water from the 2nd rinse)
Granted, "settled" doesn't keep me from being nervous about the hike or sad about the fact that I'll be far away from my friends and family. This is going to be one epic trip, and I'm struggling to stay level headed while acknowledging how difficult everything's about to become.
As always, a little practice helps smooth some of the concerns. I've played around with my new trail home; I've bathed and de-sand-ified everything that might be harboring dirt or invasive species; and, of course, I've wandered around Madison to both clear my head and prepare my legs.
I still feel like I have a million loose ends to tie up in Madison, but, God willing, I'll begin this amazing, crazy walk soon.
9.12.2015
Te Araroa Planning
The post-college TransAm ride was fantastic. I can probably squeeze a few months of fun in between grad school and the start of my career.
I've always rather hoped that the timing of my thesis defense would align with the start times for one of the major US trails (AT/PCT/CDT), but go figure, I'm finishing up in the middle of winter. Fortunately, I've also spent enough time day dreaming on backpacking forums and flipping through National Geographic albums that I've heard about the Te Araroa - perhaps one of the most awesome sounding, up-and-coming long trails in the world. Though the 3000km New Zealand trail only officially opened in 2011, it's been getting a ton of publicity and has seen exponential growth in the number of folks attempting it every year. Lucky for me, November-March are the prime months for hiking the TA.
For a number of reasons, I've decided to stick to the South Island portion of the TA (1. I would like some time to visit my family, 2. I do need to get a real job someday, 3. 1300km seems sufficiently difficult, 4. A ton of road walking on the North Island doesn't appeal to me, 5. Cost, 6. Visas are less of a hassle for trips under three months). The southern half is supposed to have a much better alpine/wilderness feel, slightly better trail marking, higher visitation, a larger proportion of protected lands, and some phenomenal scenery. It's also likely to kick my butt 100 different ways.
So, why would I want to spend 60-70 days going over terrain that can be more grueling than the CDT, walking in and out of rivers multiple times a day, destroying my feet, being eaten alive by sandflies, and dealing with the emotional/psychological terrors that are always a factor in a long hike? Well, I do like a good challenge, but there's more to my decision than that. I've always wanted to attempt a long trail. I probably don't need to explain to you just how much I enjoy being outside, and I don't think I'm capable of describing how amazing it is to fall into a rhythm where all you have to do is wake up, trek through an incredible place, eat a ton, collapse, and repeat. Yeah, there's a pretty decent chance that I won't be able to complete the entire thing. That's ok, and that's something that I'll deal with if/when I must.
So, here's the current plan: I'll head to NZ sometime in Mid-December; I'll spend a couple of days arranging food drops, sending bounce boxes, buying a DOC Hut Pass, swapping my phone to a local carrier's (Spark maybe) SIM, recovering from jet lag, and a gazillion other important little bits and pieces; and then, I'll head out on the 800 mile SI portion of the TA. I expect it will take me 60-70 days to hike, and I'll likely want at least a couple of zero days, too. My (in progress) Gear List is located here. It's currently running right around 15lb without food and water, which is almost exactly where I want it to be. I'm furiously trying to make sure that I won't have to carry more than 30lb or so along the TA.
There are two big things that I'll need to figure out before arranging flights: (1) When can I head out of Wisconsin? and (2) In which direction should I hike? I was originally planning on hiking NOBO from Bluff so that I could break in my trail legs more gradually, but the trail notes will be easier to follow SOBO, and I can't get great predictions on the weather with El Nino mucking about. The next true phase of planning will require me to sit down with the DOC/TA Trust Track Notes and plan a rough day-to-day itinerary and all of my resupplies. There are around 4-5 places on the South Island that require a bit of logistical legwork to get a good batch of trail food to a convenient place. The TA Trust is updating the last of this year's route changes right now, and they expect to post the full notes early next week.
Once the route planning is taken care of, there won't be much more that I absolutely have to do before setting off. Almost all of my gear is purchased, though I'm still debating what kind of rain gear my lower half will need. I'll also have to pony up some funds for a Personal Locator Beacon in the hopes that my dear mother and lovely fiancee will be able to get some sleep while I'm off tramping (kiwispeak for rugged hiking, which is performed on "tracks" rather than "trails").
All in all, I'm incredibly excited. I'll probably post a few more times during the planning phase, as my gear list gets adjusted and as I plot out each camp and resupply. Please let me know if you have any questions or tips regarding the hike; I'd be happy to chat about my plan!!
5.29.2015
Backpacking in Pictured Rocks
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| Trout Lily |
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| Chapel Rock |
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| Marsh Marigold |
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| Our Dinner Spot by Mosquito Beach |
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| Lover's Leap Arch |
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| The coolest tree ever - look at that root! |
5.08.2015
Shawnee NF Garden of the Gods to Lusk Creek Backpacking
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| My kind of car camping |
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| Garden of the Gods |
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| Garden of the Gods |
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| View out into our hike |
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| One-Horse Gap |
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| Dwarf Larkspur |
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| Spiderwort(?) |
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| An awesome swimming hole (now complete with snake!) |
4.09.2015
A pitiful (but wonderful) XC ski season
Alright folks, after weeks of 30-70F weather and a solid couple of rains, I am prepared to admit that it is now well into spring in the barren north. It is spring, and I have gone skiing exactly seven times this winter. Seven times. Over four trips. Not a single ski was even within city limits! Our snowpack has been terrible this winter.
We took one pleasant, if patchy, ski up with the SO's family around Christmas. In late January, we went for a leaf- and grass-ridden ski just north of Madtown. Our third trip was up to Minoqua Winter park (nicely maintained, reasonably scenic, bitterly cold), and, after a long morning trying to get the car started, we hit Nine-Mile Rec Area/State Forest on the return trip (always beautifully groomed, though perhaps not the most beautiful ski in the state of Wisconsin).
The last ski trip of the season was the one for the money. Ali's boss disappeared on a Friday, so our 2-day trip turned into an awesome 3-day vacation. We got to Nine-Mile by early afternoon. (We didn't completely blow off our lab work.) Every previous trip to ski in Wausau has begun with the intent to complete the 20k loop, plus or minus some of the "alps" sections, and since we were finally bright enough to try this on the first day of our trip instead of the last, we actually made it the whole way around this trip. As always, the grooming was perfect. There were even fewer oak leaves scattered across the classic track and a complete absence of patchy ice (a miracle for late winter). After knocking out 20k in just over two hours, we had plenty of time to get up to Ironwood.
For day two of our three day weekend, Ali & I headed over to the Porcupine Mountains - perhaps my favorite place within a 8 hour radius of Madison. The weather was perfect; we had bluebird skies and the warm sun on our faces, and the XC ski trails had actually been groomed! (The park claims that this is always the case; I'm used to either having to break my own trail or follow an old track through unrolled snow.) The track was fast, and we covered at least 75% of the trail system. The West Overlook was darned near perfect (a bit brisk), and the Big Hemlock Trail, which is my favorite for it's giant trees and impressive solitude, was beyond compare. We lunched down at the chalet (yummy pasties!) and were about to head out on the Lake Superior loop when somebody reminded us that we had switched into Eastern Time and the chalet was closing soon. Rather than have all of our gear locked inside while finishing our ski, we headed home with the sun still high in the sky. Our favorite restaurant was mysteriously closed, but we managed.
Day three, we headed over to ABR. The skies were dark when we arrived, and a fine snow began to fall as we headed out on the Sunrise trail. We set out to cover all of the classic-only trail, and we succeeded in a rather roundabout fashion. On our way from the wildlife-named trails to the tree-named trails, the sun finally broke through the clouds, and we had an hour or so of skiing before the sky became overcast again. Once again, we were off the trails a little sooner than expected. This time it was due to an eerie absence of other skiers (and of course our long drive home). I'm not sure that a longer ski would have been as pleasant; after three months without snow, we had hoofed over 60km of skiing within three days.
We took one pleasant, if patchy, ski up with the SO's family around Christmas. In late January, we went for a leaf- and grass-ridden ski just north of Madtown. Our third trip was up to Minoqua Winter park (nicely maintained, reasonably scenic, bitterly cold), and, after a long morning trying to get the car started, we hit Nine-Mile Rec Area/State Forest on the return trip (always beautifully groomed, though perhaps not the most beautiful ski in the state of Wisconsin).
The last ski trip of the season was the one for the money. Ali's boss disappeared on a Friday, so our 2-day trip turned into an awesome 3-day vacation. We got to Nine-Mile by early afternoon. (We didn't completely blow off our lab work.) Every previous trip to ski in Wausau has begun with the intent to complete the 20k loop, plus or minus some of the "alps" sections, and since we were finally bright enough to try this on the first day of our trip instead of the last, we actually made it the whole way around this trip. As always, the grooming was perfect. There were even fewer oak leaves scattered across the classic track and a complete absence of patchy ice (a miracle for late winter). After knocking out 20k in just over two hours, we had plenty of time to get up to Ironwood.
For day two of our three day weekend, Ali & I headed over to the Porcupine Mountains - perhaps my favorite place within a 8 hour radius of Madison. The weather was perfect; we had bluebird skies and the warm sun on our faces, and the XC ski trails had actually been groomed! (The park claims that this is always the case; I'm used to either having to break my own trail or follow an old track through unrolled snow.) The track was fast, and we covered at least 75% of the trail system. The West Overlook was darned near perfect (a bit brisk), and the Big Hemlock Trail, which is my favorite for it's giant trees and impressive solitude, was beyond compare. We lunched down at the chalet (yummy pasties!) and were about to head out on the Lake Superior loop when somebody reminded us that we had switched into Eastern Time and the chalet was closing soon. Rather than have all of our gear locked inside while finishing our ski, we headed home with the sun still high in the sky. Our favorite restaurant was mysteriously closed, but we managed.
Day three, we headed over to ABR. The skies were dark when we arrived, and a fine snow began to fall as we headed out on the Sunrise trail. We set out to cover all of the classic-only trail, and we succeeded in a rather roundabout fashion. On our way from the wildlife-named trails to the tree-named trails, the sun finally broke through the clouds, and we had an hour or so of skiing before the sky became overcast again. Once again, we were off the trails a little sooner than expected. This time it was due to an eerie absence of other skiers (and of course our long drive home). I'm not sure that a longer ski would have been as pleasant; after three months without snow, we had hoofed over 60km of skiing within three days.
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