Ice Age Trail - Mondeaux Segment

     A twelve mile paddle down the Wisconsin River is the agenda for today.  This popped up suddenly, yesterday, and wasn’t something to miss.  The temps will be in the low 60’s and lots of sun, a perfect day to be in the woods and water.

    Instead I sit here writing.  Yesterday I thought I was just tired, but overnight it turned into quite a level of exhaustion and headache.  We have had some great paddles this Summer and this would be the great way to cap off the paddling season.  I’ll miss out this year.

     Last weekend started off with a great paddle on Lake Waubesa.  We paddled up a couple of estuarys so far that we had to paddle backwards for a good ½ mile before being able to turn the boats around.  After the paddle I packed up my hiking gear and headed north.  Sunday morning at 07:52 I was at the parking area for the west end of the Mondeaux segment of the Ice Age Trail.  A good eight mile bike ride along gravel forest roads was the first part of the trip.  A beautiful cool day was in store and I rode along slowly through 46 degree air under sunny skies.

     

I've written before how poorly I’m able to bike these days.  Bad leg, 20 extra lbs, a 15 lb pack, and wet gravel roads made for some rough travel.  I was happy that I only had to walk twice, up two hills.  The first hill I stopped at I made it about 1/3 of the way up.  That left thigh started getting very tight and that’s my sign to stop and walk.  I could have made it up the hill, probably, but need to keep in mind I have 5 hours hiking at the end of this bike.  I have to chuckle.  I think back to the 25 mile “cool down” rides I used to take after playing a morning of tennis.  I’ve biked 20 miles through muddy logging roads without walking, except for the time I had to cross a small marsh with the bike.  Heh, quite a different adventure these days.

     Biking along I was able to spot turkey, deer, eagle, and a bear.  The second “walk” on the bike ride came after I decided to push through a hill, only to find a steeper longer climb on top of that one.  Walking takes longer, so I had to make an effort not to walk again.  Fortunately, I was only a short distance from the trailhead.

     I’d only seen one vehicle on the bike ride and that was the farmer going from his house to the equipment left in his field.

     At 09:20 I was at the start of the trail.  The trail head is at the intersection of two gravel roads.  A farm on side of the road and a house (or business?) around the corner.  If it’s a house then they have more cars than is probably necessary.

     The trail starts on the top of a small hill and carries through some muddy areas.  The last few days were pretty rainy, actually very rainy with a few inches of rain over the course of the week.  Mud is to be expected.  I hit the spot where the trail crosses the forest road that it had been paralleling.  That would be the last road for at the next three miles.  I’d had to walk around some muddy areas on the trail, but otherwise stayed nice and dry.  The trail was a bit rocky, but the going was good.  So far.

     After crossing the road, the wilderness begins.  The guide book talks about having to cross some streams that do not have bridges.  What the guide book does not say is that after a good rain the trail is water.  This began almost immediately after crossing the road.  I like to keep my feet dry on a hike.  If it can’t happen, it can’t, but dry feet are happy feet, blister free.  I was able to skirt around some of the worst spots of ankle deep mud and water, but around 10:20 I got a muddy foot, but not wet!  One stream to that point had a fallen log and with the aid of the trekking poles I was able to get across without getting wet.  The trail also became much rougher.

The trail...

     Twenty minutes later  it happened.  The trail came to a stream about four feet across and two feet deep.  A beautiful little stream that actually had some dead fall across.  The deadfall was simply a handful of small twigs.  I know what you’re thinking.  Come on.  Four feet, just jump it.  Well, first, four feet is a long way for me to jump, but you also need to take into account the terrain.  That stream is surrounded by rocks, marshy hillocks, small trees, bushes, and grasses.  There is no stable solid ground within 3 feet of the stream and even if you could long jump 10 ft (and most of us can’t without practice).  You’d get stuck in the 6 foot high grass in between and probably break your ankle on the rocky mud on the other side.  There was one option.  Wet feet.

     After the stream crossing the trail became worse.  Wetter, and rockier.  More deadfall to go under, over and around.  There was no way to walk around the trail when it became a large puddle.  The option was to bushwhack through more mud and water.  However, after you get your feet wet decisions about avoiding mud and water become very easy to make.  Still, even after you’ve decided that getting wet again is just how it is you can’t blindly trudge through the calf deep water on the trail.  The rocks are buried in mud, and under tufts of grass.  Deadfall litters the waterway (trail) further making the way difficult and slow. 

     FR 102 (Mondeuax Dr) came into view at 11:40.  A nice sunny clearing of dry gravel.  The first part of the segment was 3.4 miles and took over two hours.  Slow, slow going to be sure.  My legs were beat and ready for a long break.  Uncharacteristically, my shoulders were not liking the weight of the pack either.  That usually doesn’t bother me until after a few hours of hiking, but I’d not taken any breaks during the last two hours which likely was the precipitator.

     I took off shirt, boot and socks.  Put the shirt on a branch and the boots and socks out on the road to gather as much sun as possible.  I took a rest on the slope from the ditch to road in short grass.   The rest was broken occasionally by this single black ant.  The ant first bit me without me noticing it.  I grabbed a leaf and transported the ant a few feet away.  I watched as crawled right back to me.  So, I swept it away with my hand.  Five minutes later I got bit again!  This time I moved it across the road.  I’d be gone before it made it back to me  a third time.    

     I spent some time nibbling on what little food I’d brought along.  Normally, I’d have some peanut butter sandwiches, but sadly the promised peanut butter at the camper was not fulfilled.  Some jerky and a power bar was lunch, but was plenty.  I also drank the warm Pepsi I’d brought with.  The pop was less than satisfying, which is unusual.  After about 45 minutes I deemed my belly full enough and my feet dry.  While I had plenty of time on this hike; I did not have to necessarily hurry home, but I try to get out of the woods before dark.  Well, that is unless I specifically go out for a night hike.  After dark, the temps drop quickly, navigating a rough trail becomes very difficult, and the drive home is later too.  At the current rate of travel I wouldn’t get out of the woods until after 7:30.  And there is still the bike to pick up.

Lunch break

     The next 3.2 miles meanders along the shore of the Mondeaux flowage.  I was thinking this would mean a dryer more stable trail.  I didn’t change into my dry socks at the rest, waiting for the next stop at the flowage lodge area where there would be a proper picnic table to stretch out on.

     Within 20 feet I my hopes were dashed and my decision to continue with wet socks upheld.  Mud, water, rocks.  There are, however, a few bridges over the worse areas.  The trail snakes along the shore line, sometimes within 2 feet of the shore, but then also climbs shortly up the side of the hill.  Even on the side of the hill there is standing water, but also areas were mud slides had occurred in the past two days.  The trail was rough, overgrown, full of roots, rocks, mud, and water.  Once again the going was very slow.  Normally, I’m strong, even when tired, on short climbs, but the trail was difficult enough that my legs just couldn’t keep up well.  I was wearing down quickly.  In addition to the bridges another piece of good news is that twice the trail dove inland, away from the shore.  This could be seen on the map giving a good indication of location.  The next rest stop was coming… soon?

Ayup - you know it

     The day was becoming warmer, but not hot.  Even so I could tell that I wasn’t taking in enough water.  I made a conscious effort to start taking longer sips from the water bladder.   How did I know I wasn’t taking in enough water you ask?  Dehydration has some particular clues.  The two that I notice the most is that first I’ll start getting  this warm feeling just above my eyebrows.  Not a headache (I know headaches!), but just warm and lightly uncomfortable.  I can usually ignore that.  The second is that over the course of a couple hours you realize you haven’t unzipped your pants in quite a while to paint a tree.

     At 13:30 I passed the first of the two campgrounds on this side of the river.  The campsite was up on the hill about 20 feet above the trail and was currently occupied.  I walked quickly by before I could be noticed.   I pulled into the west side picnic area of the flowage at 13:46.  I found a picnic table away from the main attractions (placards and the dam) and took off shirt, socks, and boots.  Everything went into the sun, which bathed the area.  I knew I couldn’t stay here for too long.  I’d travelled 6.6 miles in just about four and half hours, not a blistering pace.  I like to maintain about 2 miles per hour, but on this trail there was no way.  My legs were shot and according to the guide book there was 6.4 miles to go.  If the terrain were anything like what I’d come through it would be another 5 hours of travel and I’d be pushing darkness.  But I needed a long rest.  My hamstring would cramp when I tried to stretch my quad.  Yep, legs were done.  I filled up my water bladder with the water bottle I had, which almost emptied the bottle.  At this point I regretted having replaced the other water bottle with a can of Pepsi.  I should have just packed the Pepsi with the food and taken the extra water bottle.  That’s what I usually do.  There was supposed to be water at this stop, but on both sides I could find no water but the river.  I was looking at having to ration water when I wanted it most.  But, on a cool day like this I wasn’t worried about any heat problems, just wanted to enjoy the day and water would help.

     The next part of the trail travels along the top of an esker.  My hope is that this would be a dry stretch and I put on dry socks.  Off I went at 14:20 and up the esker I went.       The sign at the end of the last section stated that the section along the esker to the road was 2.2 miles.  The trail was splendid, almost groomed.  Although my legs were beat I tried to keep a rapid pace.  The last part of the trail would be through swamp again.  As nice as the views of the flowage from on top the ridge were I wanted to make up time on this trail.  As long as I kept moving quickly (2mph roughly… woo that’s fast!) my legs didn’t cramp.  When I slowed down to navigate a wet spot or dead fall, one of my legs would immediately tighten up.  So, I kept moving.

     About 30 feet above the flowage the esker sloped steeply downward and were covered with trees and light undergrowth.  The sun dappled the leaves of the trees and shimmered on the brown water, the view broken only into parts by a variety of mature trees.  Occassionally, a voice would carry from the beach, now a mile to the north.  At one point there was a bench on the trail at a higher point on the esker.  This would be a pleasant place to spend a couple quiet hours on a day like this.

     One creature has so far been absent from this narrative.  The great queen of the forest, the Minnesota state bird, the mosquito.  Truly, there were very few mosquitos along the trail.  I have a very low tolerance for gnats and mosquitos and this largely in part because they just loooovvve me.  I carry a head net with me on all hikes and paddles ever since a miserable paddle on the Kickapoo a couple years ago.  I don’t care what I look like, if the bugs are out in force then so is the net.  Only a few times did I swat them away and I came prepared for them.  As the day warmed up, though, the little critters began to make a light appearance. 

     I descended the esker at 15:25 and immediately had to walk through ankle deep water, sloshing mud and muck over the top my boots.  A few minutes later I hit FR 106.  The sign said 2.3 miles to HWY E and the car.  Ok, the sign said HWY E.  The car part is from me.  That would put the entire trail at 11 miles instead of 13.  Not a bad thing, especially considering my left thigh was cramping frequently.  Although this part of the trail would around bogs and mud it stayed largely on slight elevated ground.  In a few places plank bridges crossed some ugly wet areas.  Still, there were enough obstacles to keep travel from being anything resembling quick.  The mosquitos picked this time and place to come out, but with such a short amount of distance left I didn’t bother doing anything about it.  I just kept moving along. 

     Finally, at 16:30 I came out of the forest and into the small parking lot where my car sat.  About a ½ mile before the end I began to see footprints in the mud (the trail very muddy at this point, but not much standing water).  It was clear that somebody and their dog walked from the lot in a ½ mile and then turned around and walked back out, not even trying to avoid the mud.  Along with them I also saw some odd tracks.  Five very clearly defined digits with a well defined elliptical footpad attached.  Well rounded toes, well rounded edges… what?  After about 10 minutes it dawned on me what these tracks were.  The person travelling with Boots and Dog was wearing a pair of those barefoot shoes, probably a size 6.

     A year ago in this same parking lot I was packing up the bike and pack after finishing the Chippewa Moraine segment.  The light was just about gone from the late Autumn sky when I heard the most odd sounding “Waaaahoooooo  Hoo” from across the road – maybe only 50 yards away.  I’d never heard any animal make that noise.  Not an owl, so I’m thinking more along the line of cat, wolf, or coyote.  I never did determine what made this noise.  I fought the drive to step out into the road and see if I could see anything, but dark was nearly upon me, so what would I see?

     This year, the sun was still well above the horizon and there was no repeat chorus.

     This was the second wettest trail I’d ever been on.  The wettest was the Deer Lake trail in Olympic Natl Forest.   While this trail was mud and standing water, and while this trail crossed streams with no few bridges, the Deer Lake trail often was the stream.  Not just standing water, but coursing water.  On the Deer Lake trail there stood a sign asking people to not relieve themselves within 200ft of a water source.  That trail climbed slowly to a lake, but along the way crossed over gorges and snaked along the side of large inclines.  At all times there was water underfoot, in streams next to the trail, dripping off trees, running down the side of the hills.  The entire forest was a water source.

     I was able to complete an entire segment on a grand late Summer day.