Day 42: Saturday September 28th, 2019
Total Miles covered for the day: 7.0
Location: Center perpetuity of the Harrison Hills Segment between County Road B to the north and the Turtle Lake Road to the south.
7.0 miles of trail covered.
If someone were to tell me they wanted to take a 7-mile hike to see what northern Wisconsin was like, this is where I would send them. Even more, I would tell them that they must, for authenticity, travel back in time to September 28th, 2019, and hike it on that exact day, in the afternoon, with the trees reaching full-peak colors and the sun shining through patchy clouds on a cool day. And they must choose to hike it with their best friend in the world, when there is nothing to think about but the trail.
The word 'microcosm' is a term that means some large thing can be observed or experienced on a smaller scale, while still retaining the authenticity and even the grandeur of the greater object. Like the tide pools in the ocean, this seven-mile hike travels through a stretch of Wisconsin that packs in elements of the entire northern half of the state. You want rocks? Got 'em. Trees? Yup. Hills? Got those aplenty. Bogs? Ponds? Everywhere. Wildlife? Absolutely. Wildflowers? Mushrooms? Berries? Birds? Yes, yes, yes, and yes. And, if you allow yourself to accept all things Wisconsin, you can even appreciate the evidence of and interaction with the logging industry and the wild but mostly harmless Northern Hillbilly, a somewhat subdued version of their southern cousin, with their camping, fall hunting and ATVs.
Yes, the Harrison Hills is all that and more. And while I can look back on it with rose-colored glasses and talk about everything that was wonderful, I also cannot forget just how challenging this section of trail was, with seemingly endless changes in elevation, and the occasional meaningless diversion to take the hiker over rough terrain with no real purpose except to ensure that hikers will end up with 'boot-memory' of the glaciers, so that they will feel the rocks on their feet long after the hike has ended.
We have reached the point in our lives where long hikes are hard. Theresa carries a little more weight than is strictly good for her, and I have a bad ankle from a fall years ago. We're both getting bad knees. I won't lie. This was a tough hike for both of us.
We started out the day by dropping off a vehicle at the County Road B parking lot and then driving back down Turtle Lake Road until we reached what we were hoping was a logging road, because it was our intent to drive in about 1 mile and cut this long segment in half. On the satellite map, it seemed clear that it would be possible to drive on this road and intersect with the trail a little bit south of lookout mountain, and that may even have been true. The problem was, what we were looking at was not a logging road, but a very active ATV trail. What do you call a group of ATVs? A pod? A bevy? An attitude? Let's just say that there was a Profusion of ATVs out there, and driving my minivan a mile down one of their trails may have been both ill-advised and problematic. So we opted instead for option B, which was to just park at the designated area where the trail intersects with Turtle Lake Road and hike the whole stretch at once.
Making this evaluation took time, and we ended up not getting started until 1:24 in the afternoon. Had we stopped to really evaluate things we may not have attempted this. We were hiking what we thought to be a six-mile section of trail, with only 5 1/2 hours before darkness. That alone would have given us pause, because we traditionally cover only about 1 mile per hour on average, and this was a very hilly section, which was going to slow us down. Also - if you look at the signage at the beginning of the trail it shows that this is a 7.5 mile section, not a 6-mile segment.
I know what you're saying. If the sign says 7.5 miles, why are we only claiming 7.0 miles? Well - eventually you have to decide whom to trust. The IAT Travel guide says this whole segment is 14.5 miles. The signs at the trail heads claim the distance is 15 miles. But the sign also says that the Alta Junction Segment is 2 miles long, and having hiked it only last week I can confirm it's a LOT closer to the 1.2 miles advertised in the IAT Trail Guide. So, while my pride and my legs would like to believe this was 7.5 miles, I am going to say it was only 7.0, because I am going to trust the IAT guide more than the signs at the trail heads, and I refuse to believe there are only 3 miles of this segment left on the south end. I'm sure that when I finish that last piece of this Segment I'm going to want to claim at least 3.5 miles, which is all I have left of the original 14.5. And I'm not going to go back out there with a measuring wheel, re-hike the segment and figure out who's right.
I'm not going to spend a lot of time describing the many turns, climbs, descents, switchbacks, etc. If you are hiking this Segment you will quickly learn all there is to know. What I will describe is how absolutely beautiful the scenery was, especially as the trail hiked around pond after bog after lake after pond, giving a glorious glimpse of the fall colors that were just starting to explode around us.
The walking conditions, for the most part, were pretty good. On the southern half of the hike, the trail stayed fairly wide, occasionally running along an old logging road, then heading gracefully into the hills, with fairly good footing, not too many rocks, not too many roots, well-blazed, and very few branches or trees across the trail. We could hear the Jays and Crows making noise at us, and the woodpeckers off in the distance. There were other birds I didn't recognize by sound, but didn't see them.
That's one thing I have noticed that surprises me and makes me a little sad. There aren't enough birds in the woods these days. They say bird populations have dropped by 30-40% in this country since the 1980's. I can believe it. Where are the forest birds I used to see as a child? Where are the Vireos? Where are the Tanagers? The Orioles? The Oven Birds and Warblers? Where indeed.
As we hiked, we encountered numerous places where the ATV Trails crossed the Ice Age Trail. And we heard the ATVs as they ripped along through the forest, even encountering a few as we walked. We would nod and wave, and they would wave back. I don't let their presence, or even their noise bother me. We all have to share. It would have been nice if we had been able to use one of these places to cut the hike in half, but alas...
Then we reached the spot where we we originally wanted to park. We had reached a spot not quite halfway along the trail for the day. It was ten minutes after four. We had been hiking 2 hours and 45 minutes, and we were less than halfway. The two biggest climbs of the day were still ahead of us. In three hours, it would be full-on pitch black darkness. We could have, at that moment, safely turned left along the ATV trail, hiked back to Turtle Lake Road, then south back to the car we started from. Or we could hike on, north, to the car waiting for us on the other side of Lookout Mountain. Distance? About the same. We decided to keep going.
It was at this point that Theresa decided to really give a 100% effort. Gone was any pretense of taking an enjoyable walk through the forest. Gone was the time spent looking around to enjoy the scenery. Gone was the careful and deliberate placement of feet as we hiked up and down the many hills. She practiced the techniques she saw in the YouTube videos, how to hike more efficiently, protecting your knees. Short steps downhill, in a semi-squat - how to use the poles efficiently. Walking along the few level spots with purpose and taking advantage of gravity when the walking was easy to hurry along as fast as she could.
For the next hour and a half, we moved at a pace that was neither enjoyable for her, nor entirely safe. But there were no stumbles, and it was critical to our ability to get out of the woods before dark. We moved at three times our typical speed, and by the time we looked again at our progress on the phones, it looked like we just might make it.
I do remember the place where we started hiking up to Lookout Mountain. The trail got suspiciously steep. There were switchbacks. I checked the phone (yes, we had good phone coverage throughout the hike and could view satellite maps of our current position at all times) and confirmed that we were getting closer to the point of highest elevation on the whole IAT. The climb is done in stages, and there are a few points where the trail is not well-defined as you switchback back and forth up the hill. Not that you don't know where the trail is, but rather it's not cut into the hillside, and so you don't have easy footing, and I occasionally slipped downhill a bit on the leaves that were blanketing the ground. This is not representative of the rest of the trail, as most places were excellent in this regard, but right here there are places where it is wise to carefully check your footing.
After what seemed like a very long climb, we reached the top of a hill, and Theresa said, "Is this it? Is this the top?" Clearly we were at the top of something, and it was covered in scraggly berry bushes, with almost no view. I thought 'yes' at first, but then remembered that there was one hill to climb, followed by a long walk along a ridge, then the final climb up to the peak near the tower. Since there was no tower here - then no, we weren't at the top yet. We pushed on though the berry bushes and kept going. A quarter mile further, and we could see the tower, and the top.
As we pushed out of the woods from that thin, scraggly trail, it was a little disappointing. Here we had reached a place that required hours of difficult hiking, and rather than some astonishing view that rewarded only those intrepid souls who followed our arduous path, we were instead greeted by a gravel road, concrete foundations, fenced-off tower bases, guy-wires, a building, and a little bit of garbage here and there. We walked to the left, to the very tippy-top of the peak, and sat down at the bench next to the survey marker telling us that we had reached the apex of our climb. It was 5:30.
Thanks to a huge effort on Theresa's part, we had time to sit on the bench a while and enjoy the view. It may have been more spectacular when all the leaves were gone from the trees, but then, we would only have been looking at the hills. Personally, I liked the trees. Then I noticed that I couldn't see any yellow blazes. I knew the trail went off to the north, but it was actually a little challenging to find out where. When we packed up again to finish our hike, I hiked around the edge of the hill and eventually found the trail darting into the woods, as though the correct thing to do would have been to walk across the gravel road, behind the fenced-in area, and never actually gotten to the top of the hill, the bench and the view. Seriously? People, please! How about we take the trail logically that 50 feet to the left with a few blazes and bring it around to the top? Sheesh!
I knew from having studied the maps that the rest of the hike would be easier going, and certainly more downhill than up. Even better, the path to the north was vastly better than what we had just walked through to get here from the south. It was like crossing a county line in winter where the road is plowed well in one county, and poorly in the next. We continued to make good time as we walked the long, gradual descent from the top of Lookout Mountain, and then into yet more hills, and more - well, more everything.
There is a part of this hike I don't understand. We crossed a well-used ATV Trail as we headed north, and into an area that has undergone recent logging. I'll take a moment to state that the people who did this logging did an outstanding job, leaving behind a park-like sprinkling of the best oak trees, thick-stemmed, straight and tall, to create a canopy under which the next generation of trees could thrive. Anyway - the trail goes up onto a hillside, turns to the right and eventually leads back down to meet the same ATV trail again. I don't mind that so much, but from there the trail continues across the ATV trail, heads south for about two tenths of a mile, and bends sharply to the east, to walk along 500 feet or so of God-awful moraine debris, only to take a 90 degree turn back north to rejoin that same ATV trail no more than a tenth of a mile from the last encounter. If there was a view - a feature - any redeeming purpose to this side-journey I would understand, but seriously, there was none. It was about the rocks. It was about the damn rocks, and the damn moraine, and I don't know what else. It was not worth the extra half-mile of walking.
When we reached the ATV Trail for the third time, I knew we were getting close. I pulled up the Sat Map again and estimated that we had about three tenths of a mile to go. I knew there were a couple small hills to go over as we went, and these turned out to be steeper and harder than I anticipated, but maybe we were just tired. One place in particular had a switchback leading up to a medium-sized erratic boulder at the end of a ridge-top. Great. Another damn boulder. Enough already. (I'll add that if this was the first section we were hiking, or the only section, then yes, it would be important to view this glacial feature. After 300 miles or so, however, I feel I've seen enough boulders for the time being.)
It turned out that the distance remaining was closer to six tenths of a mile, rather than three tenths, but as we approached the sound of cars on the road, it was an easy walk downhill for the last 600 feet. We hauled our weary butts over to the trail sign and took our selfies. It was 6:45. It was 51 degrees. The sun was down, but there was still daylight. We encountered no bears, and no wolves. We would not be camping out overnight, unable to move through the blackened woods huddled together for warmth. We made it.
Running Total: 326.3 miles of trail covered; 30.6 miles ‘extra’ hiking/biking. End of Day 42.
Location: Center perpetuity of the Harrison Hills Segment between County Road B to the north and the Turtle Lake Road to the south.
7.0 miles of trail covered.
If someone were to tell me they wanted to take a 7-mile hike to see what northern Wisconsin was like, this is where I would send them. Even more, I would tell them that they must, for authenticity, travel back in time to September 28th, 2019, and hike it on that exact day, in the afternoon, with the trees reaching full-peak colors and the sun shining through patchy clouds on a cool day. And they must choose to hike it with their best friend in the world, when there is nothing to think about but the trail.
The word 'microcosm' is a term that means some large thing can be observed or experienced on a smaller scale, while still retaining the authenticity and even the grandeur of the greater object. Like the tide pools in the ocean, this seven-mile hike travels through a stretch of Wisconsin that packs in elements of the entire northern half of the state. You want rocks? Got 'em. Trees? Yup. Hills? Got those aplenty. Bogs? Ponds? Everywhere. Wildlife? Absolutely. Wildflowers? Mushrooms? Berries? Birds? Yes, yes, yes, and yes. And, if you allow yourself to accept all things Wisconsin, you can even appreciate the evidence of and interaction with the logging industry and the wild but mostly harmless Northern Hillbilly, a somewhat subdued version of their southern cousin, with their camping, fall hunting and ATVs.
Yes, the Harrison Hills is all that and more. And while I can look back on it with rose-colored glasses and talk about everything that was wonderful, I also cannot forget just how challenging this section of trail was, with seemingly endless changes in elevation, and the occasional meaningless diversion to take the hiker over rough terrain with no real purpose except to ensure that hikers will end up with 'boot-memory' of the glaciers, so that they will feel the rocks on their feet long after the hike has ended.
We have reached the point in our lives where long hikes are hard. Theresa carries a little more weight than is strictly good for her, and I have a bad ankle from a fall years ago. We're both getting bad knees. I won't lie. This was a tough hike for both of us.
We started out the day by dropping off a vehicle at the County Road B parking lot and then driving back down Turtle Lake Road until we reached what we were hoping was a logging road, because it was our intent to drive in about 1 mile and cut this long segment in half. On the satellite map, it seemed clear that it would be possible to drive on this road and intersect with the trail a little bit south of lookout mountain, and that may even have been true. The problem was, what we were looking at was not a logging road, but a very active ATV trail. What do you call a group of ATVs? A pod? A bevy? An attitude? Let's just say that there was a Profusion of ATVs out there, and driving my minivan a mile down one of their trails may have been both ill-advised and problematic. So we opted instead for option B, which was to just park at the designated area where the trail intersects with Turtle Lake Road and hike the whole stretch at once.
Making this evaluation took time, and we ended up not getting started until 1:24 in the afternoon. Had we stopped to really evaluate things we may not have attempted this. We were hiking what we thought to be a six-mile section of trail, with only 5 1/2 hours before darkness. That alone would have given us pause, because we traditionally cover only about 1 mile per hour on average, and this was a very hilly section, which was going to slow us down. Also - if you look at the signage at the beginning of the trail it shows that this is a 7.5 mile section, not a 6-mile segment.
I know what you're saying. If the sign says 7.5 miles, why are we only claiming 7.0 miles? Well - eventually you have to decide whom to trust. The IAT Travel guide says this whole segment is 14.5 miles. The signs at the trail heads claim the distance is 15 miles. But the sign also says that the Alta Junction Segment is 2 miles long, and having hiked it only last week I can confirm it's a LOT closer to the 1.2 miles advertised in the IAT Trail Guide. So, while my pride and my legs would like to believe this was 7.5 miles, I am going to say it was only 7.0, because I am going to trust the IAT guide more than the signs at the trail heads, and I refuse to believe there are only 3 miles of this segment left on the south end. I'm sure that when I finish that last piece of this Segment I'm going to want to claim at least 3.5 miles, which is all I have left of the original 14.5. And I'm not going to go back out there with a measuring wheel, re-hike the segment and figure out who's right.
I'm not going to spend a lot of time describing the many turns, climbs, descents, switchbacks, etc. If you are hiking this Segment you will quickly learn all there is to know. What I will describe is how absolutely beautiful the scenery was, especially as the trail hiked around pond after bog after lake after pond, giving a glorious glimpse of the fall colors that were just starting to explode around us.
The walking conditions, for the most part, were pretty good. On the southern half of the hike, the trail stayed fairly wide, occasionally running along an old logging road, then heading gracefully into the hills, with fairly good footing, not too many rocks, not too many roots, well-blazed, and very few branches or trees across the trail. We could hear the Jays and Crows making noise at us, and the woodpeckers off in the distance. There were other birds I didn't recognize by sound, but didn't see them.
That's one thing I have noticed that surprises me and makes me a little sad. There aren't enough birds in the woods these days. They say bird populations have dropped by 30-40% in this country since the 1980's. I can believe it. Where are the forest birds I used to see as a child? Where are the Vireos? Where are the Tanagers? The Orioles? The Oven Birds and Warblers? Where indeed.
As we hiked, we encountered numerous places where the ATV Trails crossed the Ice Age Trail. And we heard the ATVs as they ripped along through the forest, even encountering a few as we walked. We would nod and wave, and they would wave back. I don't let their presence, or even their noise bother me. We all have to share. It would have been nice if we had been able to use one of these places to cut the hike in half, but alas...
Then we reached the spot where we we originally wanted to park. We had reached a spot not quite halfway along the trail for the day. It was ten minutes after four. We had been hiking 2 hours and 45 minutes, and we were less than halfway. The two biggest climbs of the day were still ahead of us. In three hours, it would be full-on pitch black darkness. We could have, at that moment, safely turned left along the ATV trail, hiked back to Turtle Lake Road, then south back to the car we started from. Or we could hike on, north, to the car waiting for us on the other side of Lookout Mountain. Distance? About the same. We decided to keep going.
It was at this point that Theresa decided to really give a 100% effort. Gone was any pretense of taking an enjoyable walk through the forest. Gone was the time spent looking around to enjoy the scenery. Gone was the careful and deliberate placement of feet as we hiked up and down the many hills. She practiced the techniques she saw in the YouTube videos, how to hike more efficiently, protecting your knees. Short steps downhill, in a semi-squat - how to use the poles efficiently. Walking along the few level spots with purpose and taking advantage of gravity when the walking was easy to hurry along as fast as she could.
For the next hour and a half, we moved at a pace that was neither enjoyable for her, nor entirely safe. But there were no stumbles, and it was critical to our ability to get out of the woods before dark. We moved at three times our typical speed, and by the time we looked again at our progress on the phones, it looked like we just might make it.
I do remember the place where we started hiking up to Lookout Mountain. The trail got suspiciously steep. There were switchbacks. I checked the phone (yes, we had good phone coverage throughout the hike and could view satellite maps of our current position at all times) and confirmed that we were getting closer to the point of highest elevation on the whole IAT. The climb is done in stages, and there are a few points where the trail is not well-defined as you switchback back and forth up the hill. Not that you don't know where the trail is, but rather it's not cut into the hillside, and so you don't have easy footing, and I occasionally slipped downhill a bit on the leaves that were blanketing the ground. This is not representative of the rest of the trail, as most places were excellent in this regard, but right here there are places where it is wise to carefully check your footing.
After what seemed like a very long climb, we reached the top of a hill, and Theresa said, "Is this it? Is this the top?" Clearly we were at the top of something, and it was covered in scraggly berry bushes, with almost no view. I thought 'yes' at first, but then remembered that there was one hill to climb, followed by a long walk along a ridge, then the final climb up to the peak near the tower. Since there was no tower here - then no, we weren't at the top yet. We pushed on though the berry bushes and kept going. A quarter mile further, and we could see the tower, and the top.
As we pushed out of the woods from that thin, scraggly trail, it was a little disappointing. Here we had reached a place that required hours of difficult hiking, and rather than some astonishing view that rewarded only those intrepid souls who followed our arduous path, we were instead greeted by a gravel road, concrete foundations, fenced-off tower bases, guy-wires, a building, and a little bit of garbage here and there. We walked to the left, to the very tippy-top of the peak, and sat down at the bench next to the survey marker telling us that we had reached the apex of our climb. It was 5:30.
Thanks to a huge effort on Theresa's part, we had time to sit on the bench a while and enjoy the view. It may have been more spectacular when all the leaves were gone from the trees, but then, we would only have been looking at the hills. Personally, I liked the trees. Then I noticed that I couldn't see any yellow blazes. I knew the trail went off to the north, but it was actually a little challenging to find out where. When we packed up again to finish our hike, I hiked around the edge of the hill and eventually found the trail darting into the woods, as though the correct thing to do would have been to walk across the gravel road, behind the fenced-in area, and never actually gotten to the top of the hill, the bench and the view. Seriously? People, please! How about we take the trail logically that 50 feet to the left with a few blazes and bring it around to the top? Sheesh!
I knew from having studied the maps that the rest of the hike would be easier going, and certainly more downhill than up. Even better, the path to the north was vastly better than what we had just walked through to get here from the south. It was like crossing a county line in winter where the road is plowed well in one county, and poorly in the next. We continued to make good time as we walked the long, gradual descent from the top of Lookout Mountain, and then into yet more hills, and more - well, more everything.
There is a part of this hike I don't understand. We crossed a well-used ATV Trail as we headed north, and into an area that has undergone recent logging. I'll take a moment to state that the people who did this logging did an outstanding job, leaving behind a park-like sprinkling of the best oak trees, thick-stemmed, straight and tall, to create a canopy under which the next generation of trees could thrive. Anyway - the trail goes up onto a hillside, turns to the right and eventually leads back down to meet the same ATV trail again. I don't mind that so much, but from there the trail continues across the ATV trail, heads south for about two tenths of a mile, and bends sharply to the east, to walk along 500 feet or so of God-awful moraine debris, only to take a 90 degree turn back north to rejoin that same ATV trail no more than a tenth of a mile from the last encounter. If there was a view - a feature - any redeeming purpose to this side-journey I would understand, but seriously, there was none. It was about the rocks. It was about the damn rocks, and the damn moraine, and I don't know what else. It was not worth the extra half-mile of walking.
When we reached the ATV Trail for the third time, I knew we were getting close. I pulled up the Sat Map again and estimated that we had about three tenths of a mile to go. I knew there were a couple small hills to go over as we went, and these turned out to be steeper and harder than I anticipated, but maybe we were just tired. One place in particular had a switchback leading up to a medium-sized erratic boulder at the end of a ridge-top. Great. Another damn boulder. Enough already. (I'll add that if this was the first section we were hiking, or the only section, then yes, it would be important to view this glacial feature. After 300 miles or so, however, I feel I've seen enough boulders for the time being.)
It turned out that the distance remaining was closer to six tenths of a mile, rather than three tenths, but as we approached the sound of cars on the road, it was an easy walk downhill for the last 600 feet. We hauled our weary butts over to the trail sign and took our selfies. It was 6:45. It was 51 degrees. The sun was down, but there was still daylight. We encountered no bears, and no wolves. We would not be camping out overnight, unable to move through the blackened woods huddled together for warmth. We made it.
Running Total: 326.3 miles of trail covered; 30.6 miles ‘extra’ hiking/biking. End of Day 42.
