Fording The Creek

Day 149: When I got up this morning, I could see that it was going to be a nice day. I did my customary session on the exercise bike (equivalent to eight walking miles), hemmed a shirt, and then said, "Eh, time to put on the boots." At 9:30, I was out the door and walking up the road toward Nicholson Horse Trails with no thought of going further than the stream where high water stopped me last week. As things transpired, however, the creek was down significantly. I assessed the situation for several minutes...it's February, you know, and that water is only a few degrees above being ice, and it's often deeper than you'd guess...and then I took off my boots and socks, tied the laces together and slung them around my neck, shed my trousers and went barefoot across the bed of sharp stones, cursing and complaining the whole way. It's not like I'm a stranger to this procedure. You do what you gotta do, and once I was on the other side and dressed again, I realized I'd made a commitment to go up to Buck's Crossing.

Now as it fell out, I was ill-prepared for the trek because it hadn't been in my thoughts when I left home. I had no water, no food, no first-aid kit, not even a bandana, and more importantly, no map. Bad Crow! But as I said, I hadn't intended to tackle Buck's Crossing, otherwise I'd have had the Ten Essentials with me. I hadn't been up this way for several years, but I have a good memory for rocks and trees and the lay of the land, and that talent was what first alerted me to the fact that things weren't quite what they should have been. I'd climbed a steeper section of trail than I recalled being en route to Buck's Crossing, and when it debouched into a clearcut, I became even more confused. Believing that I was still on the right trail and that Man had gone and changed the landscape on me, I kept going until I came to the "Peggy's Trail" sign. Then I knew I'd screwed up. Someplace, I'd missed a turn.

Backtracking two miles, I found my error. It was an easy one to make. Deadfall across another small creek obscured any sign of trail until I penetrated the forest on the other side. Did I turn around, knowing I'd already gone four extra miles? Not me! I kept plugging along until at last I came to Buck's Crossing. Satisfied but very thirsty, I started back toward home.

By the time I got back to the missing Stone Bridge and Tucker's Ford, my feet were starting to get a little weary because I'd already covered 12.5 miles. That ice water looked much better than it had looked in the morning! Once again, off came the boots and socks, but having made the crossing earlier, I knew I only needed to roll my trousers up to my knees instead of taking them off. When I got to the other side, I took about three minutes to enjoy a frigid foot-bath before polishing off the last five miles to home. Whatever pain I endured on this day, it was worth it!