Day 59: Parrish Hills Segment (Part 3), Langlade County

Day 59: Sunday May 2nd, 2021

Total Miles covered for the day: 4.5

Location: The easternmost 4.5 miles of the Parrish Hills Segment, between Nelson Firelane to the west and County Road T to the east. 

4.5 miles of trail covered

One year ago we were walking on the Ringle segment in Marathon County on what turned out to be one of only two days' hiking in all of 2020, the year of the virus. Uncertainty, prudence, precaution, and a shortage of toilet paper made us put a pause on our Ice Age adventures, and we hunkered down with the rest of the world until we figured out what was what. 

This year, with renewed information, increased stability, and most importantly a vaccine, we have refocused our efforts on the trail. Today we decided to go back up to Langlade County and finish up the last 4.5 miles of the Parrish Hills segment. 

We had already hiked the western 7.5 miles of Parrish Hills, from the Nelson Firelane to the western trailhead, with a lot of relatively easy hiking on logging roads, snowmobile trails and gravel roads, along with quite a lot of 'normal' hiking trail. Easy except for the 'hills' part. There were a lot of those. And the driving. There was a lot of that, too, and it was memorable.

Today's target was the last 4.5 miles east of Nelson Firelane. Which meant we needed to get a vehicle down that forsaken piece of gravel back to the trail crossing where we started the last time. Having already gotten to that crossing once, we knew it was no easy feat. The last time we drove in on Five Cent Road from the west end, then driving down Nelson Firelane to the trail intersection. Simple. However, I can say with confidence that neither one of those roads was built with the likes of a Chrysler Town and Country in mind, let alone the low-slung fuel-conscious Toyota Prius, better known for traversing parkways and parking lots in Eco-Mode. And if you read our previous blog on Parrish Hills, you'll know that we decided to drive OUT of that spot by heading due south, which we swore we would never do again. The last time we drove down that road I had to get out twice to saw through trees that had fallen across the road and hadn't been cleared yet. If we had broken down, there would be no thumbing a ride any time soon. 

Today the plan was to repeat our previous journey, going 3.5 miles along Five Cent Road, heading South on the Firelane, going down and back up that one rather alarming hill in the road, parking our car, and reversing our way back out of there, all the while dodging the ATVs who used the road a lot more than anything without four-wheel drive. And it almost worked. We made it down 3.1 miles, only dodging about 6 ATVs, when we reached blue tape strung across the road with a sign that said 'Trail Closed'.

It says something, I suppose, that the sign didn't say 'Road Closed'. Still, it was technically a 'Road'. It said so on the signs. I decided to walk down and see why they would close a road to ATV use. Certainly we could just slip in, drop a car, then slip out again and no one would notice, right? Unfortunately, anything that would close a road to an ATV proved more than enough obstacle for my humble mom-car. A washout just down the road made the whole thing impossible. But - rather than dropping the car where we were and adding 1.5 miles to the hike, which was already going to be touch-an-go to avoid the rain, we decided to go back and drive back up Nelson Firelane from the south. 

Which we did. And it was just as awful as we remembered, only this time we were driving the worst of it going uphill, and not down. We were passed by numerous ATVs, heads turning and wondering what we were doing there as we scrambled along. We wondered the same thing.  

My minivan has reasonably good clearance to go over the ruts and boulders sticking up out of the road. The Prius does not. Theresa made it through, though I don't know how she did it without tearing off the heat shields and the muffler. We finally were able to drop the van off at the trail intersection, wanting to get the Prius out of there before the rain hit. That could spell disaster. 

So we had a decision. The devil we knew, or the devil we didn't know. We knew already how horrible it would be driving back out to the south. We knew we couldn't go back out the way we intended originally due to the washout, but that left the third option, going back up to Five Cent Road and turning east, driving the 3.5 miles in the other direction, then headed south on West Elcho Road until we hit Line Road and finally County Rd T. We reasoned that if we went out to the north and east, at least we would be driving on 'Roads', and not on the Firelane, so we went north and east. 

We have driven a lot of bad roads. The Ice Age Trail helped us find many very bad roads in our quest to cut long segments into shorter hikes. We have never, and I mean NEVER, driven a worse road than this one. The first mile or so wasn't too bad. Then there were bad spots. Then there were worse spots. Finally, there were places where we had to decide how hard to bottom out the vehicle while we fought our way up loose gravel, stones and rocks that littered the ruts and washouts in order to prevent not making it to the top of the hill and having to back down and try again. 

"How much farther?" Theresa asked. I shuddered to answer. "1.2 miles, then we hit West Elcho Road. It should be better from there."

Except that it wasn't.

When we finally reached West Elcho Road, our imaginary byway of civilization and salvation, we found ourselves on yet another unloved and neglected gravel backroad, too beat up and unworthy to even qualify for the state's 'Rustic Road' designation. We soon found ourselves crossing a swamp with logs - literally LOGS - laid down perpendicular to the direction of travel, upon which gravel had been tossed during a presidential term that preceded the birth of BOTH of my last two minivans. The logs were laid as foundation to the road to prevent it from sinking into the swamp, and I guess I can be thankful that they had survived long enough to save our Prius from a similar fate. By the time we reached County Road T, and the eastern trailhead for Parrish Hills, we were literally two full hours past when we thought we would be starting our hike.

So let me start by saying, if your thought is that you want to use Five Cent Road to cut your hike in pieces, you have many choices. But unless you drive a truck with some attitude - don't. Just - don't. It's not worth it. You can get there faster by just walking. There is no 'good way' to get to the Nelson Firelane, and Five Cent Road is nothing more than a one-lane playground for ATVs. 

OK - time for a deep breath - the Parking area at the Eastern Trailhead, which is located at the Townline Lake wayside on Cty Rd. T, is glorious. There are picnic tables. There's a pit toilet if you look for it. Lots of parking. Families with children. Fish jumping out of the crystal clear lake. It doesn't get any better than this. 

After taking a moment for a mental adjustment, we geared up and started our hike at 11:45 am, the temperature a warm and friendly 68 degrees. Any hope we had of beating the rain that was forecast to start by 1:00 was completely out the window, but we had raingear, and we were off.

The first thing the trail does is head north along Townline Lake. I have to say this was a missed opportunity by the IAT trail-makers. Here was this beautiful lake, with a nice hill that traveled along the eastern shore, and rather than work the trail to the top of the hill, they chose cut the trail into the edge of the hillside, 30 feet from the top of the hill that was only about 15 feet higher in elevation. The trail slanted mercilessly, except where the erosion had exposed tree roots and other problems, and the entire walk along the lake was spent taking care not to lose your footing or twist an ankle, rather than enjoying the view from the hilltop only a few tantalizing feet away. 

I'm not going to say it was all bad. In fact, the hiking along this section was mostly on very good trail, or on logging roads or the like, with great blazes and all the trees and debris cleared away. 

After a mile or so, we encountered Thank God Bridge, which you will recognize and appreciate when you get there. At some point in the past, trail angels toted in the lumber and hardware necessary to build it, and I shudder to think what it would have been like if no such bridge existed. Truth be told there are many such bridges scattered across the IAT, hundreds of them, and if not for the work put in by those work crews we would not be able to enjoy the trail like we do, and we probably would have given up long ago. 

A couple of times the trail went straight across a mucky area while the main road went around. We went around. We're literally talking 150 feet. Unfortunately, the mud was not always avoidable. 

We had reached the center 'Troad' portion of the hike, comprised mostly of two-track trail/roads. The blackflies were out, and first of the deer flies. Deet kept them at bay. 

The trek to the west took us across several miles of stony logging/atv roads. We found little in the way of trash, unless you count all the 20-guage shells left behind by the grouse hunters. It wasn't particularly hilly, but then walking on roads can tend to hide the hills a bit. There was another problem - gravel roads can sometimes be difficult to walk on, and are harder on the feet than trails. I prefer a dirt trail to a loose gravel road. 

Of course, hiking roads that are sometimes muddy has other benefits. You get to see tracks from the critters that go through. We saw turkey tracks, deer tracks, and one particularly large dog track. I'm saying dog. A big dog. A dog that leaves tracks the size of the small plates in the cabinet. OK, it was a wolf. 

Cool.

When we walked past an enormous clearcut from about 5 years ago, now filled with a hundred thousand aspen trees, we heard off in the distance a woodpecker drilling test-holes. The loud, resonant thud-thud-thud was not the normal, frenetic steady hammering, but more of a tentative tapping, as though the motor wasn't quite catching and it sputtered to a stop.  

Finally, after what felt like miles of gravel road (because it was miles of gravel road) we spotted the place where trail left the troads for good and bounded off north through the woods. The turn was easy to identify, because the blazes were excellent, and I'll give one more set of kudos to whoever went through here with yellow paint. Whether it was signposts, tree paint, or even paint on rocks on the ground, they made sure there were enough blazes to keep you going the right way. Well-done.

What remained was not a bad hike. I remember seeing all the typical flowers, and took one nice photo of a blood root plant in full bloom. 

A lot of the time was spent hiking the top of a very narrow ridge. At times the ridge was so narrow you could stand in one place and see all the way to the bottom of the valley on both sides. If not for the trees, you would call it an arete. It was that severe. 

Then, on the final westward march, we passed through a stand of young trees that were parted like the Red Sea, forming a wall the left and to the right, 

A few short tenths of a mile later, and we reached our waiting van at 3:00 pm, somehow having avoided the predicted thunderstorms, with the temperature a steady 69 degrees. 

We walked across the road, touched the sign, and connected ourselves all the way to Cornell in Chippewa County. 

Despite all our promises to self, we turned the van around and drove right back down that horrible Nelson Firelane, ruts, rocks and all, for the fifth, and, God as my witness, LAST time. 

Of course, when we got back to the trailhead, we walked across the road to take a look at the trailhead for Highland Lakes going the opposite direction. There we saw a painted rock, sadly broken, with the saying, 

IAT Highland Lakes Western

Of all the paths you take in life, make a few of them dirt. 

 

Sage advice. 

Running Total: 410.8 miles of trail covered; 37.5 miles ‘extra’ hiking/biking. End of Day 59.

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Day 58: Chaffee Creek Segment, Connecting Route, Wedde Creek Segment, Waushara and Marquette Counties

Day 58: Saturday May 1st, 2021

Total Miles covered for the day: 4.4

Location 1: The Chaffee Creek Segment, between the I-39 wayside to the south and Czech Ave to the north. 

2.5 miles of trail covered with 0.6 miles extra hiking.

If you are ever given the opportunity to introduce someone to the Ice Age Trail - take them on their first introductory hike, for example - you should not, under any circumstances, take them to this segment. It wouldn't be fair.

It wouldn't be fair, for example, for them to walk along grassy, soft-footed trails, through picturesque and quiet wooded areas bordering stereotypical farm fields, with ecologically-minded paths making for easy climbs and descents, along a creek so clear you can count the pebbles on the bottom as it ripples along, through an idyllic copse of trees in the most unlikely of locations, only to cross the creek on a sturdy bridge complete with stairs before meandering through a field and to the waiting car, with flush toilets and vending machines waiting at the end. 

No, it would not be fair to them at all. It would be cruel to give that first-time hiker the impression that this is what the Ice Age Trail is like. It would only serve to draw them in, lulling them into a sense of comfort and longing that can only be satisfied by finding out what the next segment is like... and the next... until they, too, have a set of 105 colorful maps, with bits and pieces highlighted in different colors and dates noting when they were there, quietly muttering to themselves about how you suckered them in with this magnificent hike.. 

No - if you have the chance to take that new hiker on the trail for the first time, be kind to them and take them anywhere but here. 

The Chaffee Creek segment crosses under I-39, straddling then crossing the line between Marquette County to the south and Waushara County to the north. You would think this would make it easy to do a 'quick hike', dropping a vehicle off on one end, then popping over to the other end and hike away. You would think so, but you would be wrong. 

We looked at this inconvenient little segment many times, not quite sure the best way to deal with it. The problem is the southern end. It's located at a Wayside. On the I-Road. With no way to backtrack, and no easy way to get vehicles on both ends. 

One option, of course, is to walk in opposite directions, wave hello as you pass in the middle, and trade vehicles. Efficient, but not what we wanted. Another option would have been the out-and-back, a tried and true method used by many, that would have effectively doubled the distance. Then of course there's the third option of just going through the pain of dropping a vehicle at one end, driving to the other end and walking between, but that takes literally an extra 45 minutes of driving because of the complication of the highway. A fourth option would have been to use the short 0.2 mile blue-blaze spur trail at the end of 6th Avenue, walk the 0.6 miles down and then the whole segment to the north, shortening up the driving considerably but adding that extra 0.6 miles. A fifth option would have been to split it into two days, one day being an out-and-back hike of 0.4 miles from the Wayside to the intersection with the blue-blaze trail on some day when we happen to be driving through. We would have done that, too, except the day we stopped to do exactly that, there was so much poison ivy along the path we decided to skip it.

What we finally decided to do was to have one vehicle, mine, go to the Wayside, and have the other vehicle, Theresa's, go to the end of 6th Ave. I then hiked the 0.6 miles to the waiting car, and we drove to the north end of the segment on Czech Ave. and hiked the entire segment going north to south. 

This meant that only one of us had to walk the extra 0.6 miles, and even though this still meant a full 20-minute drive to get from the Wayside back to where we parked our launch vehicle, that time was our typical take-a-break time between segments where we relax a bit and get a snack and a drink. 

It was somewhere around 11:30 when I reached the wayside. I had already made careful preparations and was able to simply grab my waist pack and hiking stick and go. I wasn't really tracking time and temperature, because this was all the 'extra' hiking, and I would be coming back the other way with Theresa, and for a bonus, with our daughter Nicole and her wonder-dog Joplin. This part didn't really count.

Because of the twists and turns to get down to 6th Ave., I was able to get to the waiting car no more than 5-10 minutes after they had arrived. Then we all drove to the north Trailhead on Czech Ave where we snugged our car alongside the road and geared up. 

We started the hike at 12:00 sharp. The temperature was only 69 degrees, but the forecast was much warmer. 

The first part of the hike, going north to south, is a straightforward southward march across two tenths of a mile of open field, which at this time of year wasn't bordered by encroaching crops. It afforded a view to what lay ahead, a patch of forest that had not been converted to crops. Once again, I am in great appreciation of the farmers who allow a trail to cut through their fields, because it takes up an appreciable swath of land that is therefore not growing crops, which is money out of their pocket. Add to that the inconvenience of having to avoid plowing the trail and the sacrifice is even more noteworthy. 

Once we reached the woods we walked west across the face of it a bit then ducked in, headed south, and we noticed immediately that we were no longer walking through the great northern forests. Chaffee Creek is in Sand Country, and the trails show it. The walking is easy, the trails soft beneath your feet. 

I stopped to pick up a geocache while I was in this first piece, and we were through it in no time. By the way, if you are picking up the geocaches as you go on this segment, you're better off hiking south to north. You're welcome. 

Then, as we were leaving the woods to hike across the small piece of field in the back, it became apparent just how much effort was given on this well-maintained segment to providing easy walking. It would have been really easy to just march straight across this piece and have a short, but steep climb up from the field on the other side. Instead, the trail cuts far to the west to make the incline far less steep and nicer to hike. 

Somewhere along the way, we passed into the Mecan River State Fishery Area (older maps incorrectly label this the Chaffee Creek State Fishery Area). We followed the easy trail through sparsely forested, sandy soil, stopping once for a rest on a bench located at N 43° 59.128 W 089° 29.165. Then we were off again.

As we approached the northbound highway, with its ever-present drone of vehicles moving past, we came out of the woods and found that the ground beneath our feet became... weird. It felt rubbery, like we were walking across the surface of a balloon full of water. It wasn't wet at the surface, but you could tell we were stepping on a floating mat of soil and vegetation. 

Then we got to the creek, and Joplin (the dog) was really happy for it. She plunged right in, taking long, sloppy gulps of water, because the temperature had climbed up pretty significantly. It was nearly 80 degrees already, and it wasn't even 2:00 yet. 

Another benefit of Sand Country is that the water is clean and clear. I could see every detail below the swift-running surface. There's just enough silty mud to make it not too easy to get in and out, but it would also be very easy to get fresh water here in the event you don't want to wait the 20 minutes to get it at the wayside. 

The walk below the bridge was as you would expect, but immediately on the other side, between the northbound and southbound highway lanes, is a magical little copse of woods that you would never expect. There is a geocache in there as well, and probably the only one you will ever get on DOT land in Wisconsin. 

Then came the biggest surprise of all. As we approached the second highway underpass, we saw, not a bridge, but a culvert. A big, whomping-ass culvert that burrows beneath the highway, and has a rip-roaring creek running through the middle of it.

What the...? And yes, there too was the IAT sign, a little arrow fastened to the edge and pointing inside. 

Seriously? 

We had to get VERY close before we discovered that instead of having to slosh our way through the creek as we feared, there was a narrow sidewalk that ran along the creek on the inside, mere inches above the surface of the water. 

The photo doesn't give you a good enough picture of what you're dealing with. If it had been a little more rainy recently, the water would have been up and over the concrete, and there would be no way to stay dry. Word to the wise - if it's been rainy at all, you may want to choose to hike this one south to north to assess if you think this is passable. Or else, bring your water shoes. And I personally wouldn't want to walk through there if the concrete is below the waterline. That's a good way to turn into flotsam. 

Shortly after emerging from the tunnel, we met a couple who were hiking an out and back. I asked if they had ever been on the segment before, and they said no. I grinned, and told them that in about 100 yards or so they would see something that would make them stop in their tracks (see above image). But I shared with them that it would be OK, and they could keep going. I still wish I had been there to see how accurate I was.

A very short while longer we reached the intersection where the spur trail goes to 6th Ave, but per plan we hiked as a group southward, crossing the river one final time on a beautiful permanent bridge. The trail here, by the way, dances across the Waushara/Marquette County Line a few times as it goes beneath the highway, but once having crossed the bridge, we were in Marquette County for good. The trail comes out of the woods, and meanders through a large, grassy field, through an ancient gate (we guessed 50 years, at least) that was no longer functional, and along the exit ramp for the wayside. Two tenths of a mile later, we reached our destination. We touched the sign at the wayside at 1:57 pm, and the temperature had officially reached 80. This completed Marquette County for us.

On to the next location. As planned, we drove the 10 minutes south to Westfield to take the first available exit, then worked our way back north to the next hike.

Location 2: The Connecting Route between the Chaffee Creek Segment to the west and the Wedde Creek segment to the east, along Czech Ave, Waushara County

0.7 miles of trail covered.

There isn't a whole lot to say about this piece, because it's a 0.7 mile paved road that runs in a straight line. So instead I'll mention all the wildflowers we saw on the previous hike. Hepatica, lilac, wood anemone, spring beauty, strawberry, blood root, trillium, and many more. 

We also saw butterflies, which have come out in abundance in the last seven days. And so have the ticks. Mother nature always tosses in a few thorns with the roses. 

We hiked this stretch between 3:30 and 4:00, and the temperature had reached 86 degrees by the time we were done. May 1. 86 degrees. Sheesh.

Location 3: The Wedde Creek Segment, Waushara County

1.2 miles of trail covered.

To be perfectly honest, we walked this in two pieces. And there's already more to the story.

When we drove north from Westfield, we took the path on the east side of the highway, and ended up blowing past the turn on Czech Ave, and then even past Cypress Road, driving almost a mile and a half north along the connecting route before we realized we had missed the turn. A minor inconvenience, but on the way we passed a south-bound solo hiker enduring the heat and the roadway. After we turned around, we decided to pull over and ask how she was doing, if she had enough water, that sort of thing. 

As it turns out, though she had the appearance of a through-hiker, with all the gear, she was out on day 2 of her first solo overnight hike. Let me just say that I completely understand her trail-worn appearance. It was getting ridiculously hot for May 1, and she was walking in the sun on the highway carrying a BIG pack. In the end, we only gave her some dried banana chips, which she dug into as we drove back to our intended starting location. 

We parked along Czeck Ave at the intended Parking area for Wedde Creek, which actually sits in the middle of this extremely short segment. We hiked the very short spur trail (less than a tenth of a mile) and hiked the 0.4 miles to the west between 2:54 and 3:30 pm. This piece of trail, though a tiny bit more hilly than Chaffee Creek to the west, was nonetheless gorgeous and easy walking, with trees, flowers, birds - all the good stuff. 

As we hiked, the temperature continued to climb, rising from 83 to 86 degrees in that span. 

When we finished, we continued westward along the road to do the connecting route (see Location 2 above) before reaching our car and repositioning ourselves for the other half of the Wedde Creek segment. 

We managed to park our vehicle near the north trailhead on Cypress Road, which was no small feat. We were headed north to south. The time was 4:15 pm, and the temperature had reached a humid and generally unpleasant 89 degrees.

It was in incredibly pleasant walk but for the heat. There is a bridge across Wedde Creek, though it is in very bad shape. Wedde Creek was interesting, another fast-flowing clear creek, but the mud here was a little more prevalent, and the creek pushed a broad and winding split-channel through the bottoms. There were marsh marigolds a-plenty, and we also saw a significant quantity of skunk cabbage, showing that the area stays very wet most of the year. 

I'm told that if you hard-boil skunk cabbage through several cycles of boil-rinse-dump-refill and boil again, there are parts of it that won't burn holes in your tongue when you eat it. Let me know if you every decide to try that recipe.

There is another geocache along that creek, too, but there was far too much mud and water for me to get out there and find it. 

Again, the trail here is absolutely wonderful. If it weren't for the heat and the newly emerging black flies it would have been perfect.

We finally ended our hiking day at 5:00 pm, and the temperature was finally dropping - to 88 degrees. 

Running Total: 406.3 miles of trail covered; 37.5 miles ‘extra’ hiking/biking. End of Day 58.

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Day 57: Highland Lakes Segment (Part 1), Langlade County

Day 57: Friday April 30th, 2021

Total Miles covered for the day: 2.2

Location: The Eastern Highland Lakes Segment, with Forest Road to the west and the Eastern Trailhead to the east on CTH B. 
2.2 miles of trail covered

When I got off work today at 2:00 we decided to be completely impractical and drive up to Langlade County to take a little bite out of our map. We packed up our gear, what little was needed for such a short journey, and picked up our daughter and her wonder-dog Joplin. 

We drove to what is now the Eastern Trailhead for the Highland Hills segment, located on County Road B, on the driveway for Camp Susan and left our target vehicle in the spot that seemed dedicated to the purpose. Then we drove our launch vehicle to the designated parking area on Forest Road to start our day at 3:40 pm with the temperature a warm, sunny 53 degrees.

Hiking from west to east, we found the first half-mile or so of trail to be quite pretty, passing close to Alga Lake. We stopped briefly atop the very scenic overlook to Alga Lake and enjoyed a brief snack and the view of the lake, even though we had hardly gotten started. "This is the pretty part of the hike", I said, knowing that most of this 2.2 mile piece would be walking along a gravel road. 

I can't really think of a way I could have made this walk any nicer. The sun was shining, the trail was beautifully cut along the edge of the lake, but not so close that we had to cling to the edge of the hill like mountain goats. 

Along the route there were signs on different types of trees, making it an interpretive trail as well as a beautiful hike. The one draw-back was that there was an overall scarcity of yellow blazes, but in truth it would have been very hard to get lost on this first half-mile, as the track was single-threaded and there was nowhere else to go.

Sooner than we expected we arrived at Camp Susan, a 4-H camp that wasn’t in operation yet for the year. This was our sign that somewhere, back a couple tenths of a mile or so, we had passed our 400-mile mark on the trail. We decided that we crossed 400 miles at precisely the location where we were overlooking Alga Lake. We performed a retroactive happy-dance, and hiked on.

Camp Susan lies between Susan Lake to the south and a perpetual bog to the north, that is shaped a bit like a ghost or a bat if you look at the topography lines. This wetland area is significantly flooded, and apparently has been at least since last fall where 6-8 inches of water covered the driveway. When we got there it was down to 3-4 inches, but it was still quite flooded. The Ice Age National Scenic Trail Hiker Resource Map suggests a short bypass uphill from the driveway on the south side to get around it, but as far as I can tell that meant walking all the way around Alta Lake on the south side. This was quite doable, but we chose instead to trust to our waterproof shoes and plow through. Sticking to the shallowest water we could find and moving quickly, we all made it through unscathed. 

I'm not sure we're the right kind of people for Camp Susan. The cabins go for $425 a night on weekends. We, on the other hand, sleep in tents when we're really glamming it, or in the van when camping isn't available. I like old school better. 

Once past Susan Lake, the trail started following a road that ran to the north of Alta Lake and stayed a very drivable road all the way to the waiting vehicle on CTH B. It was certainly an easy hike, because this was the driveway for Camp Susan. There were essentially no hills and pretty good footing all around. Basically a long, gravel driveway. 

One thing that was interesting as we walked was that we passed through mature stands of trees that had a very unnatural feel to them. There was very little understory, and there was grass growing beneath the trees. We identified one stand of mature balsam trees, entirely limbed up from below, and I had never seen anything else like it, ever. Someone had, at some point in the past, gone through extensive work to give the 1.5 mile driveway to Camp Susan a park-like quality to it by grooming all these tees and allowing grass to grow underneath. It was at least partially successful, though not as successful as they were probably hoping for. I could see there was still some effort being put in to stack the branches and keep things sort-of tidy, but it was tidy in the way a 14-year-old boy's room might look if he was told he had to clean up his room or he couldn't go to the sleepover at his friends house that started in a half-hour. 

There were a few birds. There was a nice breeze. It was a very nice walk with the family. We ended our hike at 5:00 pm, with the temperature unmoved at 53 degrees. A little picnic, and it was time to go home.

Running Total: 401.9 miles of trail covered; 36.8 miles ‘extra’ hiking/biking. End of Day 57.

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Day 56: Timberland Hills Segment (Part 4), Burnett and Washburn Counties

Day 56: Saturday April 17th, 2021

Total Miles covered for the day: 5.2

Location: The eastern half of the Timberland Hills Segment between Boyd Rd to the west, and Leach Lake Rd to the east. 
5.2 miles of trail covered

We originally planned a nine-day hiking adventure thinking that day eight might be the last day of actual hiking, since anyone who has taken a trip like this knows it takes DAYS to recover. And as it turned out, this would indeed be our last day of hiking, though we only managed seven actual days of walking. We had given up one day to the rain and snow. We're hardy, but there's a limit. 

How does one measure the health of a forest? I look at many things, but the first thing I always ask myself is, 'What is living there?' The most obvious thing to evaluate is the trees. What is the age of the trees? What species are present? How much deadfall is there? Are the trees crowded or widely spaced? Is there a good mixture of trees? Then I start evaluating the animals, usually starting with the birds. If it's springtime, how much birdsong is there in the morning? How many different kinds of birds? Is it only canopy birds, or are there woodpeckers and ground birds as well? Are there predator birds? Do I see hawks? Do I hear owls? 

And I look for signs of other large predators and smaller mammals, as well as the insects, spiders, amphibians and snakes. A healthy forest should be absolutely teeming with life, and there should be signs of it everywhere. Along any piece of muddy ground there should be tracks, of deer, bears, bobcats, coyotes. Scat piles will tell you what those animals have been eating. And the frogs should be singing in the springtime. 

The next thing I usually think about is the soil. Learning about different soil types (clay, sand, silt, peat, chalk, loam) and their blended varieties can help you to get a very quick read on the age of the woodlands around you and know what you should be looking for. Are you surrounded by Tag Alder? You're probably standing on very wet, peaty soil. Are you under a canopy of hemlock? You're probably walking across needle-covered ground with almost no understory. The relationship is true in reverse. Just picking up a piece of soil, smelling it, and squeezing it in your hand can tell you a great deal about the forest.

And the understory and small plants tell you amazing things. What kind of flowers are there? Some flowers are very fragile and particular about their habitat, and quickly die out when the conditions are bad. Along the way we always look for Trillium, Jack-in-the-Pulpit, Dutchman's Britches, Horesetail/Equisetum, Trout Lily and Hepatica (Sharp-lobed or Round-lobed) which I have mistakenly thought of as Liver Wort my whole life. Seeing these flowers come to life always brings us enormous joy, knowing that the forest in which they grow has all the carefully balanced elements it needs to survive. 

Finally, I look at the water, and the types of creatures that inhabit the water. Is it stagnant or flowing? What color is it? If it's a deep rusty color you know it's full of tannins. If it's clear, it's being fed by nearby springs. What kinds of plants are growing in the water? Are there ducks? Geese? Swans? Loons? Beavers and Muskrats? 

As I think back and reflect on all the hiking we did this week in Polk, Barron, Burnett, Washburn and Rusk Counties, I think most of the forests rated a B-minus for health. There isn't enough life there to rate an 'A', even when there is ample beauty. The deer tracks are small, indicating few large, mature deer. The beaver ponds are aging, and the tree cuts are old, indicating too much trapping. There are vast stretches of forest with literally no understory, indicating that they have been aged artificially, suppressing the natural fires that create gaps in the canopy, allowing for new growth and diversity. This ultimately leads to large areas where there is excessive deadfall because the forest ages and dies all at once, creating the fuel for a much larger and uncontrolled fire. 

It's not all unhealthy. Sound forestry practices were evident in many places, creating new habitat and food sources for the animals. A few places have fallow fields, allowing for the grasses that bring bird diversity and insects. The Timberland Hills Segment? This is an over-mature forest that lacks vital understory. There are large animals, but not enough small animals due to lack of habitat, and therefore few owls, hawks and other predators. The water is very healthy, hosting numerous ducks, geese, swans and the like, and several frog species were evident as we walked along. Is it beautiful? Yes. But it's fragile. 

So today we decided to hike the last piece of the Timberland Hills Segment before driving home. This would achieve, like the Sand Creek Segment the day before, the trifecta of hiking prizes, completing a map, a Segment, and a County all at once, and at the same time the added bonus of extending our Touch-the-St-Croix mark a little further to the East. 

We started at 10:03 am, the temperature a lovely 45 degrees. It was a little breezy, so we layered up and into the woods we went. We were hiking from the East Trailhead on Leach Lake Road to the shelter-house on Boyd Rd, a distance of 5.2 miles. 

Let me warn anyone wanting to hike only the easternmost 0.7 miles of this trail that the 'road' that shows up on the map is someone's driveway, and the trail actually walks along that driveway briefly before crossing into the woods. If you want to be able to continue hiking here, please respect the private property sign and don't take a vehicle down there to shorten the walk.

The trail was almost exactly what we expected. For the first 1.3 miles, while we were walking in Washburn County and had not yet reached the ski trails, the hiking was unspectacular. There was a long downhill stretch at the beginning, then we passed by a nice, pretty pond, up and over a few hills, then shortly after crossing into Burnett County (for the last time) we connected with the ski trails, never to leave them again until the end of the hike. 

Along the way we were passed by a very nice woman with whom we had a brief conversation about trails and shoes and the poor availability of women's hiking apparel, and then wished her well as she pushed on ahead. 

Up until we reached the ski trails, the markings had been adequate, and the hiking wasn't too bad. Then, like the ski trails further west, we found that the trail blazes became few and far between again, and we had to trust that the trail would not leave those broad avenues. 

The trail headed north from here, and traced out a cloverleaf loop that actually resembles the hepatica leaves that are so abundant here. The first thing it did, though, was climb very steeply up a hill, only to plunge right back down the other side again. It was the only point on the whole trail that felt completely pointless to me as a hiker, but I imagine it presents a different kind of challenge and enjoyment to those who are on skis, so one must adapt. 

On the southward plunge of the cloverleaf, we walked down a steep hill at a very gradual angle and came to what I thought of as the prettiest part of this hike. The trail follows the edge of a large lake, easing around the southern end, and then walking generally back up the other side, with a spectacular view of the water almost the whole time. A little further down the trail and there is a shelter house next to some large white pines, just before a bridge that crosses the South Fork Clam River, flowing north into two large lakes. If you look to the south here through the trees, you will see what happens when a large failed beaver pond gives way to open grassland. Beavers in this area do what fire does not, keeping open the vital edges of the forest and thinning out the trees, allowing for new growth. 

We took our lunch here at the shelter, even though it was in deep shade and filled with some sort of animal scat in the corners. I took a brief walk downriver to catch a view of the lake and picked up six deer ticks for my trouble. It was here that we noticed the signage was poor, even for the skiers. We had seen no 'You are Here' signs that we could remember, and there were several intersections along the way. 

The rest of the hike was more of the same, with a number of areas that were a little muddy, or where there was a bit of a pond on the trail, but in all cases it was relatively easy to avoid. The only notable piece of trail that remained was 'Diggins' Dragons', a section of the trail with repeated up-and-down bumps that were named after Olympic Gold Medalist Jessie Diggins who had skied there during some of her training. Either she described the hills as being like riding over a dragon's back, or perhaps she likened it to a book written in 1966 by Felice Holman, where the Dragons represented something to overcome. Either way, I can see how the hilly terrain would be fun to ski if you were an Olympic athlete. 

And then we finally reached the part of the trail where we could see the warming house, and there was just one, more, tiny little hill to climb, and this hiking vacation - was OVER!

(Note to readers - we've been binge-watching 'Forged in Fire' on Hulu. If you've watched the show, you might understand the reference.)

We reached the end of the trail and touched the sign at 3:45 pm, with the temperature all the way up to 55 degrees. Our western line of continuous trail now extended beyond Polk and Burnett counties and into Washburn County. where the Grassy Lake segment awaits our return visit. 

Running Total: 399.7 miles of trail covered; 36.8 miles ‘extra’ hiking/biking. End of Day 56.

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