Into the Wilderness, Part One

I think the most surprising part of the weekend was that it even happened at all. Isn’t that just the way of most things, that you talk about them and vow to do them, but they rarely ever come to fruition? So it was that Friday came along and Jeff and I had our backpacks in the car, stuffed with sleeping bags, a tent, some non-perishable food, and plenty of water. This should have been evidence enough that the trip was going to happen, but even then I had nagging doubts in the back of my mind. After all, why would two sane adults burden themselves with 30 pound packs (Jeff would have you know here that his was 30 pounds, and mine was closer to 20, but I digress) and trudge off into the woods for no other reason than “having fun?”

Friday broke bright and clear and hot, and the weather was so promising that around noon I started to shuffle around the office. “When can you leave?” I asked Jeff. “I want to leave early today, like around three” I told him. An hour later we both left notes on our computers indicating that we were working in another building, Jeff grabbed his computer for cover, and we both sauntered away from the office, truants in search of a weekend away.

It wasn’t until we reached Two Harbors that things started to get interesting. Ominous clouds were gathering to the west, rolling towards Lake Superior with angry grumblings and a promise of plenty of rain and wind and other lovely additions to any camping trip. We stopped at the local grocery store to stock up on a few essentials (baby wipes, a flashlight, apple pie filling) and then went over to Pamida to look for non-essential items, like Frisbees, twister, and clothing from 1982. We emerged from Pamida triumphant with two camping chairs and a deck of playing cards, after coming to the conclusion that twister and camping really just don’t go together.

To put this all in perspective, the goal of the weekend was a backpacking trip into Tettegouch State Park, a beautiful gem of a park on the west coast of Lake Superior. We would camp out on Friday night on the Baptism River, and then head out first thing Saturday morning to the Superior Hiking Trail, a winding path that covers over 200 miles of rugged Northern country. Our section looked relatively easy from the map, with our stated destination being about 6 miles in, where we would camp at Bear Lake for the night, and then we would hike back out the next morning. Six miles, we thought, was nothing. Obviously, this was just a warm up trip, a test to see if I even liked backpacking, so we would take it easy on the first excursion out.

As we left Two Harbors and headed up to Tettegouche, the clouds opened up and the rain started to fall. “Well, obviously it is lighter up ahead” Jeff assured me. “Yeah,” I agreed, “this should clear up in no time.”

We arrived at Tettegouche, with rain in full force. We headed into the camp office to register and to possibly buy some rain gear. We were greeted by a monotone blonde girl, with wide set eyes and a mouth that looked prone to drooling. “So, do you know the weather forecast for tonight?” I asked hopefully. The girl nodded at a nearby computer screen, which had a Doppler rendering of the area, bands of red and green moving across what I assumed was our location. I studied it thoughtfully for a few minutes, but as far as I could tell, either we were in for clear skies or a flash flood. “Do you have any rain ponchos?” Jeff asked. “Wellllll….” the girl stammered, “not really.” “Do you have any rain gear at all?” Jeff continued on, although it was obvious by now that it was pretty much a failed course of action, talking to this idiot at all. “Ummmmmmmmm.” Was our only response. With this helpful advice, we headed off towards our campsite, wagering on the weather and wondering how people with such low IQs ever get employed in the first place.

Luckily enough, the rain started to abate only minutes after we found our campsite. The sites were clean, private, and within walking distance to a nice rest room, complete with showers. Once we had set up camp and had a fire going, I suggested to Jeff that one of us should go and buy more firewood. More is always better than not enough. He returned with one bag of firewood and two plastic ponchos. “Where did you find those?” I asked. “At the camp office, on the wall.” The camp office sells all of 10 products, and yet the girl working the desk there was not aware that rain ponchos were among them.

“Well, at least you found them,” I said.

And with that, we headed off to hike a little bit of Tettegouche, just to stretch our legs. The views were amazing.

Now, I have to tell you that Jeff and I recently invested in some new camping gear, including new sleeping bags and new sleeping pads. One of the selling features for us on the sleeping bags were that they could be zipped together, giving us a nice big cocoon to burrow into at night. However, upon further inspection neither one of us could figure out how on earth the zippers could ever get to the point where the two bags could become one. After several frustrating attempts, we agreed that it would be hot in the tent anyways, so we would lay one open bag down beneath us and use the other as a blanket. Problem solved! We headed back to the fire to cook our dinner and gaze at the stars. The night got cooler and the darkness got deeper, until we were sitting in a velvety inky black night, punctuated only by brilliant stars and our dying fire. We headed off to bed full of fresh air and snack mix, happy to have ended the night relatively dry and comfortable.

I have no idea what time I awoke, but it was still pitch black out. I was freezing. Every time I shifted even the slightest bit, the sleeping bag would slip off my body, exposing one bare buttock to the elements and one whining, hungry mosquito that had made its way into the tent. Shivering, I poked Jeff until he was sufficiently awake, and then asked him “So, are you having trouble sleeping?” Thus commenced zipping up the sleeping bags into single units, with the reassurances that we could still cuddle through the sleeping bags, with warm bottoms besides. I quickly fell back asleep, only to wake up to the thin light of dawn and the heartening sound of raindrops on the tent. I put my head back down, determined to sleep out the rain if at all possible.

The rain finally ceased, and we clambered out, eager to make breakfast and head off into the wilderness. Jeff started the bacon, while I spread peanut butter over bagels and got out the French press. As I started making bagel sandwiches for the trail, Jeff turned to me, stirring the bacon furiously lest it burn to a little crisp over the 12000 BTU whisper lite stove. “What are we having for dinner tonight?” he asked. “Hmmmmm,” I responded, “I don’t suppose peanut butter bagels would be the right answer?”

So, before we could head out on the trail we would have to run into town and get some sort of day-end meal, preferably something that would be hot and filling. “How about brats and beans?” I hedged, and thus it was agreed to that the evening’s meal would consist of pan fried bratwurst, with baked beans added to the mix. The sun continued to rise, and afternoon was fast approaching when we finally had everything packed and ready (except, of course, for the beans and sausage). As we left Tettegouche headed back into Two Harbors, Jeff pointed out a camp store, casting his vote for shopping there instead of the grocers back in town, since it was a good hike out and back, and we wanted to make good time on the trail to make it to the campsites in time. I couldn’t argue with this logic, so we headed into a large wooden structure with a sign our front that said “GROCERIES, FIREWOOD, CAMP SUPPLIES” with the hopes that we would not be disappointed. We left 5 minutes later with one can of generic baked beans and one sad little package of hot dogs.

We finally reached the trailhead, did our final pack adjustments, and congratulated ourselves for making it this far. Our journey, you see, was finally going to begin.