Day 154: Blue Spring Lake Segment (Part 2), Jefferson County

Connecting Route, Walworth County

Day 154: Sunday, April 3rd, 2022

Total Miles covered for the day: 11.7

Location 1: The Blue Spring Lake Segment, between the north Trailhead and the Bald Bluff Parking Area

6.8 miles of trail covered

I don't know how to keep up with the weather. Thursday it was cold and snowy. Friday was still chilly, but bright and sunny. Temperatures got up into the low 40s. We were wading through water and it wasn't the end of the world. Yesterday was low thirties with snow and sleet. Today - OK, not quite warm and sunny yet, but even in the morning it was reasonably pleasant. 

Last night was spent in the Hincapie Cabin again, on Whitewater Lake, and this meant we could get here early for the SnOTT Hike. We met this time at the Bald Bluff parking area on Highway H, and by 9:30 am the place was jumping. 27 people and two dogs. It wasn't even the full count of everyone who showed up. 

We had just recently received 200 more SnOTT patches, and as we assessed our crowds from yesterday and today, and started thinking about all the SnOTT Hikes we had scheduled in the near future we thought, 'My goodness - we're going to have to order more again!'

The group shots are OK, but I like getting close-ups of the hikers. 

Darn it - the gal in the pink hat was blocked...

One of the four-legged hikers. 

I don't believe it! Pink hat lady is blocked again!!

I never did get a good shot of her. 😞

Like most of our hikes, we offered different distances, and the crowd was soon divided up into the 'long hikers' and the 'short hikers'. Theresa and I were planning to cover the whole trail - if we could - but of course we did it in pieces. 

Our first leg started at the large parking area on Little Prairie Road known as Horseriders' Camp. This put 4.0 miles in front of us to get back to the cars; 3.9 of trail, and an additional 0.1 mile blue spur trail. 

There was actually quite a large group of people who came with us for the first leg. For various reasons, Theresa and I were ready to go at different times, so she decided to start walking with about 15 people in tow, and I waited around at the car to hook up with a straggler or two and planned to catch up later. 

All was going fairly well until I started walking to the trail (it's in the back of the parking lot) and heard voices. In the wrong direction. What flashed through my head was that they had a nearly ten minute head start on me, so I tried using the bear whistle to get their attention. Useless. I could hear voices, but they couldn't hear me whistle. Now I seriously wonder why I carry the thing. 

So instead, I took off trotting down the trail. I got about a quarter of a mile down and caught up to Theresa, bringing up the rear. 

"You're going the wrong way!" I told her. "Where are the rest?"

"They're further ahead," she told me, so I took off running down the trail. 

I caught up with some stragglers, and one of the younger ones took off at a dead sprint to get to the leaders and get them turned around. 

It wasn't really that big a deal, because everyone got turned around within no more than four tenths of a mile but Theresa felt bad, thinking she was somehow responsible for the error. 

Much later in the day, well after we were done hiking, Theresa looked at me and said, "Why didn't you just call me on the phone?" My reaction was

OK, well - NEXT time, I'll call. 

Back to the hike. Once we were all pointed in the right direction, life was much better. By 10:09 we were tracking through the light snow and we were on our way. 

Heading up the very first hill, we discovered that in the shade of the trees the trail was icy enough that Theresa needed her cleats. You can see in the photo below that she didn't have them on. Our solution was simple - I trotted back down to the car, which was only about two tenths of a mile away. On the way I picked up yet one more hiker, and the two of us meandered up the trail slowly catching up with the group.

I had no fear that I would catch up eventually. The trail south of Horseriders' Camp goes straight up a 110 foot hill, only to plunge right back down 50 feet again on the other side. When we reached Little Prairie Road I still couldn't see Theresa ahead, and I wanted to catch up to her in time to put the cleats on so she would be safe on these hills. So I told my hiking companion that I was going to trot on ahead to catch up with the group. 

On the other side of Little Prairie Road I had to climb right straight back up another fifty foot rise to get on the spine of a short, steep ridge. I caught up with Theresa at the top of hill, and pretty soon we were safely on our way again. 

I'm not positive what this little ridge was, but it seemed like part of an esker or a mid-lateral ridge that ran right through the Whitewater Lake Segment, the Blackhawk Segment, the Blue Spring Lake Segment and the Stoney Ridge Segment. It wasn't perfect in its continuity, but it was remarkable in structure every time we got up on top and looked down on both sides. 

The group had begun to string out a bit, with the faster hikers in the lead. Many of this group we would not see again, but they started leaving little 'friends' behind to make sure we felt included. 

The snowmen became a theme that day, and we ended up leaving several small ones behind ourselves. 

It was warm enough that some of the sunnier slopes were melting pretty quickly.

And warm enough that Theresa felt like shedding a couple layers, and even her gloves. 

I don't know what dug this particular fresh hole. It could have been a fox, or a groundhog, a skunk or even a badger. The tracks left behind (you can see them in the fresh dirt) were indistinct. My best guess was fox.  

By about 20 minutes past eleven, we ran into this fine fellow, who often comes out to hike these hills alone. He was polite enough to stop and listen to our story, and by the time we were done he was more than happy to accept a Snail patch from us. 

Once again you can see that Theresa is comfortable in a T-shirt where other people prefer jackets. I think the temperature was about 37 degrees at that point. 

And then we ran into these two awesome women who were late to the party and hiking in the opposite direction. They were specifically looking to cross paths with Theresa so they could get their patches. 

Honestly, no one looks happier in these photos than Theresa. I have mentioned in previous posts that she loves winter hiking, even here in the Kettle Moraine region. More than that, she loves handing out Snail patches. It really goes a long way towards making a long hike seem shorter. 

By 11:40 we had reached a lovely spot along the trail that had a great bench to sit on, and rest we did, spending time chatting with the one hiker who spent the most time on the trail hiking with us. Her name was Nancy Higgins Quist, and she refers to herself as 'Turtle Trekker'. I remember her charming little turtle companion that she says she takes with her on the trail. You can believe that if I had a stuffed snail I would carry that little guy, too. 

A little after noon we came to the sign on the trail that pointed the way to the "Stone Elephant". I had been looking forward to this. I mean - we've seen a lot of cool boulders. Turtle Rock was a giant boulder that looked like it had a large turtle head sticking out of it. What would the elephant rock look like?

What a disappointment. Maybe if I look from the other side...

Nope. Still a huge disappointment. If you squint a little and... nah. Forget it. It's just not happening. 

Another snow guardian.

The terrain continued to bounce up and down, as could only be expected for the Kettle Moraine area, but the temperatures were cool, we were taking it slow, and Theresa didn't stop once to complain about the elevation changes. 

Another guardian. 

Then we met this interesting gal. She was in training for a much longer hike, and she was doing the full pack thing to get used to the weight. I really wish we had more time to spend with her, but we were going in opposite directions and both of us in a bit of a hurry. 

I had other photos of her, but for some reason they didn't survive the trip. 

By 1:30 we had finally reached the lookout point on Bald Bluff. It's only at an elevation of about 1040 feet, but it's a good 150 feet above the plains it overlooks, and it's fairly steep on all sides. It's a popular place, since it's only a short uphill hike from the large parking area below. 

There is a great bench there for hanging around, and we took full advantage of it. 

In fact, while we were waiting, some of the first 'long-hikers' caught up to us from behind, having completed the whole segment while we did the first half. The two gentlemen in gray shirts were actually hiking the other direction. This is a shot of Theresa telling her hiking tales to a rapt audience. 

Another couple came sauntering up the trail, and they, too, were inducted into the SnOTT club. 

Finally it was time to make our way down the hill, and I spotted this rock, which was really just the calcified remains of a some coral. This made me rethink the geology of the whole area we've been hiking through. I know from signage that we've been hiking an area that should have been essentially formed as a lateral moraine between two glacial lobes, yet this stone didn't belong in that type of land formation, it belonged on an escarpment, or a limestone drumlin. My conclusion was that this was a piece of coral that had been broken off from a distant limestone formation and deposited here along with all the other rocks and debris. Since this was the only rock of it's type that I saw, it was the only explanation I could come up with. 

We reached the bottom, and our waiting cars, at 2:00. Even I was shedding layers by this point. 

As is typical for our hikes, when we make the leap to the second half two things become 'normal'. First, people seldom travel with us for the next leg, and second, we usually take a bit of a break. Both were true today. Actually, we spent a while in the parking lot trying to make contact with another hiker who we heard had been having some sort of medical issue. Long story short, the person we were so worried about was as stubborn and slow as we are, and was not in distress. She was just taking her time, and told other people to go on ahead - she'd be 'fine'. 

I totally get why people were worried about her. It's one thing to leave Theresa and I behind with a wave and a smile, knowing that at least there are two of us. It's another thing altogether to leave behind a single hiker (of any age) that is perceived to be under duress. I may have shared their concerns if we had been hiking with her. But we weren't, and we had no real way to get in contact with her, so we just kept the chat lines open with the group to have someone report back to us if they got news that she had reached her vehicle safely. She did. End of story. (UPDATE: We found out weeks later that she was actually hiking with another person - a regular hiking companion - so there was nothing to have ever been concerned about.)

But that gave us a great excuse for delaying the start of our second leg, and gave us the break we needed to keep going. After seven miles on these hills yesterday and already four today, a little break was a welcome relief. Nevertheless, by 3:23 we had driven to the parking area on County Road Z at the north/east end of the segment and found ourselves standing in front of a yellow-blazed oak tree with big smiles on our faces. 

Every time I take a selfie I look down at the phone to reverse the angle back to normal mode, and occasionally I see an interesting view, so I take another selfie before I flip it around. As you can see from the photo we were still dealing with cloudy overcast skies. And - based on the photo above, it was chilly enough again that Theresa had put on her long-sleeved shirt and gloves. That's sayin' somethin'. 

I absolutely love all the little moss blobs that exist along the trail. I never know if those things represent a year's growth or a decade's growth. Maybe it always looks the same. Either way, they always look to me like little green cakes that you could cut into and eat with a fork. 

It wasn't quite as hilly at the very beginning as we wound our way through the white oak forest. 

Then the oaks gave way to pines, but the forest remained as open and inviting as before. 

Oftentimes I see these vines out there, hanging from the trees. I wonder how some of them get there, because some of them will soar literally thirty or forty feet before making first contact with the tree. How do they get up there in the first place? Or this one below, where one is swirled around another, strangling it. I would love to have a time-lapse sequence showing me how these two fibrous serpents ended up tangled that way. 

I get the impression by looking at the lack of photo evidence and any personal recollections of what we encountered on those last three miles that we were definitely getting a little tired of walking in the hills. I can tell you that there were some hills, but not as many or as steep or as high as the ones we had faced earlier in the day. 

I recall hiking the area close to Carlin Trail, and I remember the IAT looping around up towards the road, then back into the woods, then up to the road again a few times. I don't recall if that made sense to me at the time or not, but I do seem to remember that there was a volunteer trail on one of the loops making it possible to access the IAT there. I did not evaluate if there was parking available. 

We spent the next mile or two just quietly plodding along, making the best of our time and being grateful that the worst of the hills were over. The final climb up to Horseriders' Camp seemed somewhat familiar to me, though I can't say for certain that I really recognized the place where we had turned around earlier in the day. But I definitely recognized the last few pine trees and the touchpoint sign telling us that we had conquered the Blue Spring Lake Segment. The time was 5:37 pm. 

You would think that we might just decide to call it a day there, but you have to remember that we were in a faraway land using a cabin, and that while I would be forced to remain tethered to my computer tomorrow and work, Theresa would be free to go out hiking. So after we finished Blue Spring Lake we made a B-Line to the connecting routes west of our present location, so that I could hike off as much roadway as possible, leaving Theresa to finish it off tomorrow. Spoiler: She did that, of course, so I'm just going to record it here as though we both did it. 

Here's how it works. Theresa drops me off in one location, and I hike, as fast as I can. She drives the car to a spot a mile or so down the road, parks the car and starts walking back towards me. We cross paths in the middle, and when I get to the car I drive back to pick her up. She notes where she left off, and then comes back the next day to finish the gaps. This is a variation of our typical crisscross hiking, where I would wait for her to finish the leg before we move on. This method is the 'Get Brock done as fast as possible method', because Brock can only hike on weekends or conceivably after work. 

Of course this means that Theresa occasionally has to double-hike some parts of the road, but she has more time, and I find that she covers quite a bit while I'm walking so the gaps aren't too large. Given the late start, we targeted the gap between Clover Valley and Whitewater Lake. 

Location 2: The Connecting Route between the Clover Valley Segment and the Whitewater Lake Segment

4.9 miles of trail covered

We knew there was good parking at the north end of the Clover Valley Segment, so Theresa dropped me off at the intersection of Anderson Road and Clover Valley Road. Then she went down to the Clover Valley parking area and started my way. 

It was 6:36 pm. Immediately I started walking west along Clover Valley Road, looking for the turn south onto Island Drive. I spotted this cool old oak tree out in the field. I'm really glad farmers leave these old giants out there sometimes. They really do a lot to add beauty to the farmscape. 

And then I finally spotted Island Drive. I have to be honest with you. I have seen plenty of surprises while out hiking actual segments, where something is marked as a 'Road', only to discover it's little more than a Billy-goat trail. (e.g. Burma Road, Kettlebowl Segment.)

But to get to this bit of gravel and mud that was clearly marked as a 'road' on the maps while I was out hiking Connecting Routes, was a bit of a surprise, even for the Ice Age Trail. 

It's not a road. It's the part of the field that wasn't plowed with a little gravel tossed on it. Would I drive a car on it? Maybe in the heat of summer, but anyone taking a vehicle on this 'road' during springtime better have a towing service on hand that owes them a favor. 

I didn't waste time tonight. I kept going at the fastest pace I could muster, because in the back of my mind I wanted to cover the whole 4.9 miles tonight before dark, and to achieve that I would have to achieve land speed records for this old snail. 

After the bend to the west, I eventually did hit pavement again. 

And some of the roadside settings were worthy of paintings, even if only used as a backdrop for some bit of wildlife standing majestically in the foreground. 

Even after crossing Hwy 89, Island Drive felt like it would never end. At some point I crossed paths with Theresa and came back to pick her up just before she got into the gravel. Her experience with the stretch the next day was much the same as mine. (That was a 'Road?!?)

So then we drove back to the same drop-off spot and I started off in the other direction. I snapped this photo of a farm that caught my eye somewhat down the road, and you can start to see how dark the sky was becoming. 

Vest on for safety!

On the part of Clover Valley Road that runs north-south, there is an artesian well identified as a 'Possible water source' on the resource maps. I can report that there was indeed copious amounts of pure clean, fresh water pouring out of the ground. When I arrived there were some people filling up five-gallon jugs with the stuff. They use this water to live on, rather than buying it from the store. 

I did snap a photo, but I can tell you I was starting to stretch the limits of my phone to auto-correct for low light conditions. 

With six tenths of a mile to go, I put it in the fastest gear I had left in me. I huffed it up that final hill at almost a trot, and just a few feet past the bend in the road I saw the waiting vehicle. There is a sign there, and I went and took a selfie standing in front of it. You can't see me in the photo at all, but you can make out a few of the letters on the sign. It was 7:52 pm, and it was dark, dark, dark. But I had managed to chalk off an extra 4.9 miles of connecting route for myself, and Theresa was able to clean up the gaps for herself the next day, and even more. But that's another post. 

Running Total: 1035.2 miles of trail covered, 151.2 miles 'extra' hiking/biking. End of Day 154.

.

.

Return to Table of Contents

.