It ain’t cheap.
Let’s get this out of the way, first and foremost. Missouri spoiled me. Thousands of Conservation Area acres and no fees? Mark Twain National Forest? State Forests? I have to admit, the opportunities to hike and camp, for free, were practically endless.
Now that we are in Ohio and things are…a bit different. State parks here, as I’ve thus far seen, have a LOT of infrastructure. Bike and canoe rentals, basketball courts, restaurants, interactive centers, you name it. In order to support these amenities, the camping costs an average of $20 per night. Hiking, of course, costs nothing (please note that I’ve yet to visit a site that imposes a day use fee).
What all this infrastructure and fees structure tells me is that these parks are pretty darn busy during the summer months. By ‘busy’ I mean ‘full of people’ and, for me, the entire point of hitting the woods is to get away from people.
To my ever-frugal mind, $20 a night to string up a tarp and use a fire ring is exorbitant. For now, until I’ve done a bit more digging around, I just deal with it.
The point is…
If you have kids, Ohio parks are great. There’re lots of things for them to do and interact with while there. But, if you’re out to experience nature in all its silence and cacophony, it’s difficult.
That’s my conundrum. I really don’t want to only be able to experience the out-of-doors here in winter to avoid the crowds (although I do love winter camping and hiking). Mind, by ‘crowds’ I mean pretty much anyone at all. I realize to some this sounds incredibly selfish–public lands are for everyone, after all–but the joy of wilderness, for me, is the absence of both human infrastructure and humans. And, okay, yes, trails and such are human infrastructure, I get that. Perhaps I should more accurately say modern infrastructure? Spaces designed for folks in RVs, with electric and such, just ain’t my speed. Hearing someone’s radio blaring and generator roaring into the night kinda kills my Muir buzz.
What the hell is “John Muir time”?
Who’s John Muir? Pretty much the absolute antithesis to John Galt (Google it, it’s an Ayn Rand thing). The simplest explanation is that he was the father of our public lands. More specifically, he was the father of public wilderness. An avid nature writer, he regaled us all with his tales of exploring flora and fauna on his travels across America, California, the Pacific Northwest, and Alaska. He thought of wilderness as Church, the closest humans could get to God’s creation–but he wasn’t a bible thumper. Part hermit, part theologian, part naturalist, he sought serenity in wilderness.
I, too, seek out the serenity in the wildest locales of God’s creation.
I go for the stillness of a sunrise as the birds slowly wake up and announce the day and the various critters either go to bed or start their morning routines. I go to listen to the trees, to see the fungi and mosses, observe the orb web weavers do their thing. I go to be a lightly treading part of that world–the world that is so different from the daily grind of traffic, work, technology, and too much noise.
Tar Hollow State Park, Laurelville, OH
As I’ve previously mentioned, winter camping and hiking are great because NO PEOPLE. The flip side of that is the weather can be problematic. The old saying, “There’s no such thing as bad weather, only inadequate gear” is exceptionally apt in this instance. The fact is, going camping and hiking unprepared in winter is not only uncomfortable, it can kill you. God knows I’ve goofed a time or two myself.
With the craziness of the past few months (buying a house, relocating all our belongings and our herd of six dogs and seven cats, unpacking, planning a renovation, etc.), I was beyond getting itchy for some outdoors time, I was about to crack. So, in January, I set a date for the weekend of February 17th to get outside–hell or high water, snow or ice, I was going camping for this three-day weekend.
And then, global warming stepped in. Highs in the mid-60s (F) and no rain in the forecast for my camping weekend.
What. The. Frak?
It’s terrifying that the current weather is so wonky but, hell, I’ll take it.
Sweet Pea the Hiking Dachsie and I loaded up into Maude the Mad Mazda Friday afternoon and headed East to the Appalachian foothills and Tar Hollow State Park.
Despite the Spring-like temps, there was but a single family camping in the lower campground. I, however, chose the walk-in sites high atop a ridge. The sun set shortly after I finished pitching the tarp and collecting deadfall for firewood. It was blissfully quiet, no other sound than the breeze in the pines and the occasional reminder from Sweet Pea that she hates being on a tie out.
As I unpacked the kitchen gear (I’d recently purchased a cheapy wood burning camp stove and was eager to test it out), it became obvious that my favorite orange lighter was NOT snuggled into the Ti camping mug where it was supposed to be. Really? A quick search through all the gear revealed that, yep, I had managed to hit the woods sans lighter. I did, however, have my emergency fire kit in my daypack that I’d left in the car. WIN! Matches and a LMF Swedish Firesteel. Leaving the matches for a true emergency, I used the firesteel for the weekend.
I whipped up a quick batch of Camping Fideo (brown SPAM (or any sausage, really), saute vermicelli (or any super thin noodle) in butter, combine and add Rotel or diced tomatoes, bring to a boil and eat when vermicelli is soft. NOM!) and settled down with my Kindle for the night.
Saturday morning dawned clear and cool, but clouded over as the temps warmed. In no time it was alternately dreary and sunny. But, a few clouds weren’t going to keep us out of the woods.
After depositing our fee (self-register at THSP after December), the dachsie and I hit the Ross Trail–a “moderate” 3.5-mile loop. It was lovely. Quiet. No one else out there and so, for us, perfect. Until the last half mile.
Let’s back up here for a moment and fill you in on some background details:
- I’m currently out of shape and overweight
- I’m disabled (long story, just call me Gimpy)
- Getting into shape is challenging when you’re disabled
- I started my cube farm job 10 months ago
- No, I didn’t keep up the daily walking habit I’d gotten into with my previous job
- We recently bought a house and made multiple trips to move our belongings and critters
- Stress and the ready availability of delivery food, in addition to Shiner Bock, may have had a bit to do with the weight gain
- Working onsite (as opposed to the remote, work-from-home l did with my previous job) is exhausting for everyone–it’s debilitating when you’re disabled
- I hadn’t been hiking at all since last summer
- I recently restarted walking daily (or, as I call it, “walkwarding”, walking plus gimp-glorious awkwardness equals walkwarding)
- I am a slow walker–I’ve really only the one gear so I’m basically a human fixie
- Did I mention I’m out of shape?
As you’ve probably surmised by reading the list, hiking (much less walking) is…challenging. Factor in the weight gain, the sedentary months, the foothills topography, and you have a recipe for PAIN.
Frankly, I did really well pacing myself. We started the hike before noon, I guesstimated a four-hour window for the hike (hey! it only took three and a half!). I frequently stopped to rest, drank plenty of water, took my time navigating rough spots (trekking poles are absolute life savers, folks), and basically did everything the smart way.
Hover over or click on an image for its caption.
And then we came upon the last half mile of the trail.
Ross Trail went from a pleasant trek of good, packed trail up and down a few hollers to ankle- and knee-twisting terror. Invisible ankle- and knee-twisting terror because, while fallen leaves are beautiful and make that cool swoosh-swoosh sound as you hike along, they also covers things over: holes to lose a foot in, tree roots to slip on or fall over, and fist-sized rocks that roll as soon as you put any sort of weight on them.
The last half mile of Ross Trail was my worst hiking nightmare. It transited a 45° hillside and was so narrow that I had to walk sideways. I’m fairly certain someone cleared every rock from the first three miles and deposited them all on this last bit of trail. It was rough enough that I had a few flashbacks to hiking in the Ozarks and even Sweet Pea was having a tough time. Seriously, when your dachshund, who’s three inches from the ground and has two more legs than you, is stopping and starting in order to navigate a trail, it ain’t good.
Fortunately, we made it off the hillside and down into the parking area without incident. I gotta tell ya, I was thrilled to see Maude the Mad Mazda.
We got back to our camp and, quite frankly, I was as ready as the dachsie for a nap. But I had deadfall to gather and dinner to cook and, since the dog is completely useless in the kitchen, I got busy.
Your mind wanders, amusing thoughts…
I can tell you where, relative to the map of a given trail, I saw a piece of trash. But, I can’t remember the Latin name of a plant (much less the plant name half the time) to save my frakkin’ life.
Realized somewhere along the trail that Friday was Sweet Pea’s birthday. Happy 6th, my adorable pain in the ass! You’re getting a camping/hiking trip and then spayed!
If you’ve made it this far through this post, you’re probably one of those folks who almost always asks me, “What do you carry with you?” I’ve included links to the products (or closest to) those I personally use. But, please understand that what I’ve linked are in no way the only places to find these items, nor are they representative of the amount of money you need to spend to get kitted up for camping. The majority of my gear I’ve purchased either used, dented, on clearance, or on closeout. And I researched, extensively, every item I own. Yes, I’m aware that sounds completely anal retentive. Thing is, I prefer to buy things once, and I most definitely opt to buy from companies with awesome warranties whenever I can. And, yes, I most definitely try and stick with the Made in America ideal.
This is not an exhaustive list of all the gear you ever need–it is a list of what I took with me for this particular jaunt taking into consideration the weather, location, and length of trip. For instance, in the summer I prefer to use a stupid cheap hammock stiffened up with a short piece of closed-cell foam, covering up with a silk sheet and/or RayWay quilt and putting a mosquito netting head cover over my bean.
Additionally, I brought a 3-gallon jug of water with me on this trip. Ohio’s parks site noted that some parks turn off their water in winter. When backpacking, cycling trips, or camping where water may be iffy, I haul around a Katadyn Hiker Pro water purifier. It’s heavier and bulkier than the straws but it’s reliable.
Light and waterproof and seriously easy to configure. Put it up high for good air flow, down low to minimize airflow and rain splash.
These are the pink/purple variety. They’re great because you can see enough to not break your neck but they don’t mess with your night vision.
I’m on the fence about the usefulness of this particular item. It’s kind of a pain in the ass to assemble. For car camping, I’m debating just picking up a cheap, low-to-the-ground metal cot.
This is actually the wife’s sleeping pad. Mine is also a Big Agnes product but smaller (not as thick). I like hers for when I’m not worried about weight and packability.
Got this in a trade with a friend. I’ve yet to have a truly comfortable night in it and so it’s about to go up for sale.
Best. Product. EVER. Really, these things have saved my ass so many times I’ve lost count. This pair is at least five years old at this point and show no signs of failing.
I highly recommend Osprey packs. Great product, great company, great warranty. My first version of this pack took a header off a scooter at 60 mph. It didn’t fare well but Osprey replaced it, no problems.
Scratch and dent special from Backcountry.com several years ago. If you want to boil water in your camping cup, you have to stick to single wall. I love this cup.
Like the cup, simply bulletproof quality.
Stainless steel and not stupid heavy. It’s definitely going into my OhShit! kit.
Forget about those chunks of magnesium with a striker strip. For one thing, the US has been inundated with Chinese made ones that use lousy magnesium that doesn’t reliably ignite. Go for a firesteel, you won’t regret it.
The only knife you really ever need. Really. Holds an edge, easy to sharpen, good grip, full tang. Mors Kochanski’s go-to blade.
Always, always, always carry an axe (or something similar) in case you need to cut wood larger than what you can break by hand or baton through with your knife. ALWAYS.
Literally a scrap of Tyvek (housewrap) from a construction site.
Pricey? Yup. Worth it? EVERY. PENNY. This dog coat is as indestructible as they come. The best part? It attaches like a horse blanket. If you’ve ever seen a horse roll on its back while wearing a good horse blanket, you’ll get why that’s a big deal.