Hell by Backpack

What's going on, gang.

I beat the living bejesus out of myself this weekend, and had a hell of a lot of fun doing so

You know that group of moms Kris rolls with these days?  No?  Well, they're a collective of moms who have kids that go to Chestnut Hill along with our girls, and these moms are all actively involved in all the same crap Kris is:  Girl Scouts, classroom volunteering, the PTO, etc.  Over the years, these moms have had countless get-togethers with one another's families - parties, outings, weekend trips, etc. - and as a result, all the husbands of this group (who have hung out as '+1's' on so many occasions over the years) have all gotten to know each other pretty well.

One of us our husband collective, Ryan, decided to put together an overnight backpacking excursion down either side of the Manistee River.  A hilly, rugged trek 22 miles in length, with no bathrooms aside from the woods themselves, no running water aside from a frigid river, and no electricity, cell phone service, or Wi-Fi whatsoever:

We'd be starting off by parking at the Red Bridge Trailhead, crossing the bridge at Coates Highway, and then heading north along the Upper River Trail - the hillier, lengthier, and more demanding of the two sides of the river - then crossing back east across the pedestrian-only suspension bridge in the evening of Day One.  We wanted to get this feat - roughly 14 miles - out of the way before tackling the shorter, easier side of the river on Day Two.  That was the original plan, at least.

Many of the other husbands declined the invite, as carrying 40 lbs of gear and living off the land is pretty daunting to most folks, but Yours Truly pounced at the opportunity.  I hadn't been out in the wild in awhile, and this was too good an adventure to pass up.

(Besides, two days without running water and electricity is barely a hiccup to someone who lived it for years in a third world country.)

Well, over the course of a month and a half of planning, the eight of us who had signed on for this hike dwindled down to three:  Ryan, myself, and Ryan's old high school buddy, Kyle.  This was fine with us, but we did have one chief concern:  the southern crossing point of our route - Red Bridge, that spanned the Manistee River at Coates Highway - had been under construction all summer, and was blocked to through traffic.

Per Google Earth.  The circle at right is where we planned on parking, with the Upper River Trailhead circled at left.  We couldn't tell if this snapshot was a recent pic, and whether or not the bridge was still under construction.

We had no idea if the construction crews let us cross on foot, or if we had to alter our plans for the hike.  During the few days leading up to it, we tossed around several ideas.  We debated walking up and down the eastern side of the river only, as we assumed we'd be prohibited from crossing Red Bridge.  We considered sneaking across, and just making a run for it if burly construction workers started yelling after us.  We even contemplated bringing along a kayak and rope to ferry us across the river, one at a time, and then dragging the kayak back across with rope for the next person, etc., then locking the kayak up with a bike chain until we returned to the bridge from the other side after our two-day hike.

The war zone that is Coates Highway Bridge.

Fortunately, none of these hair-brained schemes of ours were necessary.  We arrived around noon on Saturday (neglecting to bring a kayak), to see two other hikers (and their dog) approach the bridge on foot.  As we locked up our cars and strapped on our gear, we watched the other hikers walk right up to a large bulldozer operating on the bridge.  One of the hikers appeared to be talking to the construction worker in the bulldozer, motioning towards the other side of the bridge, where the trailhead was.  We saw the bulldozer operator shrug his shoulders and jerk his thumb back towards the trailhead.

The hikers then proceeded to walk across the bridge.

And we hurried after them. . .

About to run the gauntlet. . .

Looking north up the Manistee River.

Kyle (left) and Yours Truly prepare to wade through the construction zone.  There was a lot of debris to navigate around - it'd be impossible for cars to cross for frickin' weeks.

The North County Upper River Trailhead.  Our journey begins. . .

Kyle checks his phone.  No service.  Five minutes in.

It was sunny and in the low-60s both days of our hike:  perfect for hiking.

We made a huge mistake about a half-hour into our trek.  We came to a T in the trail, and, misreading the map like a couple of jackasses, we veered off the trail and down an insanely steep ridge.  When we reached the bottom - a considerable distance down - we found ourselves in a swampy labyrinth of trees, with no trail to follow.  Consulting the map once again, we realized - in horror - our previous error, and the prospect of having to climb back up that horribly steep ridge.  The next twenty minutes were spent climbing up a sharp incline that sapped us of every ounce of strength and breath, and afterwards we were so exhausted that we even contemplated stopping the hike and returning to the cars.  After a ten-minute breather, wherein we dried off and caught our breath, we opted to continue on.  This blunder would, rest assured, hinder our strength throughout the duration of the day.

We should've looked for these symbols in the first place.  These painted markers were a godsend, and while the trail itself was pretty easy to identify most of the time, there were definite moments where you had to scout ahead fifty or sixty feet in every direction in order to find another marker.

Continuing on through the hilly terrain of the North County trail.  A steep ridge hugs the western side of the river, and rises steadily the farther you move west.  It's definitely the more challenging of the two sides, which is why we wanted to get it out of the way on the first day while we were still 'fresh.'

Stopping for lunch at a makeshift 'campsite.'  Lunch more or less entailed anything lightweight and packed with protein (jerky, PowerBars, tuna, peanut butter, etc.) 

Once again consulting the map.  We revisited this baby quite often on our trek, but usually just to see how far along we were on the trail (there were no markers designating distance or anything like that.)

Shit.  And here I am packing a horse like some kinda sucker. . .

Crossing our first bridge, which spanned one of the many tributary streams that fed into the Manistee River.  At this point in time, we were well into the afternoon.

Yours Truly takes the lead. . .

Kyle and Ryan.

As we closed in on four o'clock, we hit a larger stream where we decided to see to our dwindling water supply.  Each of us carried a 2 or 3-liter water pouch inside our packs, but we had taken a dent out of them in the previous four hours of busting our asses.

The road goes ever, ever on.

The Manistee River.

The trail hugged the river for a mile or two, which was a pleasant change of scenery from the ridge earlier in the day.

As we closed in on the suspension bridge - the northern crossing point on the river - we once again misread the map and lost the trail.  We wandered around the woods for about twenty minutes. . .

We figured that if we simply hugged the river we'd find the trail again - or at the very least the frickin' suspension bridge - eventually. 

We came across a pretty decent campsite - fully stocked with firewood - at this bend in the river, and we were tempted to stop (we were pretty exhausted by this point in the day), but we wanted to put in another three or four miles before we stopped for the night.

See that ridge on the other side of the river?  We'll come back to that momentarily, readers.

Lost in the woods.  After consulting the map, we back-peddled along a shallow stream, away from the river, until we found our original trail about a quarter of a mile through a swamp.  We had burned through about a half an hour or aimless trudging, but at least we weren't going to die in the woods.

The River, once again.

You can see the trail there on the right.  It's pretty inconspicuous.

The Suspension Bridge, at long last.

On the other side of the river, the trail becomes the Manistee River Trail.

On the eastern side of the Manistee.

Exhausted, but morale high.

It was around 5:30 when we finally crossed the bridge, so we knew we had less than an hour before we'd have to stop and start setting up camp (the gathering of firewood was going to take over an hour itself.)   Remember, earlier, when I told you to remember a certain ridge on the far side of the river?  When we stumbled across that campsite while we were lost?  This pic was taken atop that very same ridge, and you can see that campsite at the bottom right.

Yours Truly, doing what he does best.

We spotted smoke from several campsites emanating in the distance (see far right), and tried to figure out how much longer we had before we started hitting campsites (a 'campsite' being flattened ground with some kind of a fire ring already constructed - no picnic tables or anything like that, we were still in the wild.)

This tree has a definite Blair Witch thing going on. . .

See that large hill in the distance?  That's what we had battled through earlier in the day. 

We stumbled on, thoroughly spent, stopping once and awhile to scout out potential campsites, but every one of them was spoken for.  We nearly settled for one particular 'site' that sat adjacent to a swampy valley - full of blood-sucking mosquitoes - we were that tired, but Ryan ultimately pushed us on in the faint hope of finding something better.

Around 6:30, we finally found one.  It sat right along the river, and was screened from the main trail by a series of trees (see above.)

Our site (the river bends in the distance.)

It took us over an hour to gather up enough firewood to keep a fire going for five or six hours, plus more for the morning.  In the end, we had to hack and saw through several small trees and logs before we had enough - fortunately, I had a machete, Ryan had a saw, and Kyle had a hatchet, so we were pretty well-stocked for the task at hand.

After returning to the site with our firewood, we quickly started a fire and got our camp set up.  The other two guys each brought along small tents, but I opted for the lighter option of a hammock.  This ended up working out incredibly well, but I got pretty cold in the early morning hours (it dipped into the low 40s overnight) - I think next time I hike like this, I'm going to invest in a winter hammock, for sure.

Camp, established.

We brought along a couple different burners for boiling water - a necessary component for our dinner, as we all had purchased those freeze-dried dinner meals that only require a cup or two of boiling water.  I had a southwest chicken fajita bowl, which, after a long, arduous day of hiking over rugged terrain, was one of the best meals I've ever had.

After dinner we enjoyed a decent fire along with spirits we had brought along in a series of flasks (beer would've been far too heavy.)  I had some trusty ol' Maple Birddog whiskey to bide the time with.

As well as these.  Ryan and I each brought up a half-dozen cigars that we had gotten from a cigar dealer who lives nearby our mutual friend, Eric.  This one was pretty good (the wrapping was sweeter - as a pipe smoker, I don't care for the general bitterness of cigars.)

Throughout the evening, as we sat around drinking and smoking and otherwise resting weary limbs, we could hear owls up in the trees, completely encircling our campsite.  Then came the sounds of coyotes, first off in the distance, then eerily closer.  Around 11pm, we heard a great commotion on the other side of the river - about fifty or so feet from our campsite - and a ridiculous amount of splashing, then a retreating commotion back off into the woods.  Another hiker at a campsite a hundred or so yards away came over and asked us if we had seen anything, to which we replied 'no,' but that we had heard a lot of noise.  We hadn't been able to see anything from our particular vantage point, but I guess a pack of coyotes had attempted to cross the river in our direction, but got spooked for some reason - maybe the water was too deep, maybe our fire changed their minds, etc. - and fled back into the woods.  Thank f***ing God.

Day Two

This is what I woke up to in my hammock:  steam rising off the Manistee River.

We'd have another day of sunshine and low-60s, which, again, was perfect weather to hike in.  I was terrified when I woke up, however:  As soon as I swung my legs out of my hammock and stood up on them, a piercing pain shot through both of my knees and I nearly collapsed.  Throughout the first day, my leg muscles had held up exceptionally well, but my right knee was in a lot of pain. This morning, when I awoke, it was even worse, and my left knee was in rough shape, too.  I could barely walk, and immediately took three ibuprofen to try and stem the pain somewhat.

Boiling some water for coffee and breakfast, which entailed of more freeze-dried meals.  I had an egg scrambler - eggs, sausage, mushrooms, cheese, etc. - but it was far too salty (about a week's worth of sodium, I'm sure), and I'd be burping it up throughout the remainder of the day.  Definitely wouldn't get that one again.

We let the fire die out and burned the rest of our garbage as we broke down camp and prepared for the day's hike.  My left knee was manageable, thanks to the pain medication, but I could only limp on my right - it was excruciating.   We considered hiking for a mile or so before we would cross a dirt road, and contemplated having me wait at the road the entire day, so that when the other two hiked the remainder of the trail they could then get back in their cars and come retrieve me.  Not wanting to be the Sandiest Vagina on the trip, I decided to just suck it up and limp my way through the rest of the day.

Still chilly out, low 40s.  We all dressed in layers, which makes the most sense when you're hiking through various temps - moisture-wicking underlayers, nylon shirts, fleece pullovers and down jackets, as well as 'convertible' pants (coincidently, we all had the exact same pants on - Columbia trail pants - just in different colors.)

The hike resumes.  The second day's trek would prove to be far more scenic - we were in sight of the river throughout most of the day, which ran about fifty feet below us, give or take.  The terrain was hillier, but not nearly as mundane and tiresome as the day before.

We had to cross several trenches like this, which proved to be a bit perilous at times.

These overlooks were pretty cool - you could see quite a ways off in the distance.

Our 'husband' group of guys are all in a Fantasy Football league this year, and this week Ryan and I coincidentally were playing against each other.  When we reached the crest of a high ridge, we each got a bar or two of service, so we were finally able to send out texts to our wives letting them know we were still alive, as well as double-check our fantasy team rosters and prepare for the big Sunday games.  I took this pic and sent it out to our fantasy league message board, inquiring as to whether or not Ryan's team would forfeit the week if he 'mysteriously' didn't come back from the woods alive.

Whomever is responsible for the upkeep of this trail has my thanks.  I appreciate the chainsaw work, gentlemen.

Ryan snapped this filtered-up pic with his Instagram app.  It was absolutely gorgeous country to hike through.

'No Camping.'  Thanks, sign, but I think that's a given since it's on the edge of a frickin' sand dune cliff.

There were a ridiculous amount of tributary streams we had to walk across today, which broke up the monotony of the up-and-down forest walk nicely.

Stopping for lunch, around 11:30, at one of the designated 'campsites.'

Another bridge.

This was a fairly long incline, but not nearly as bad as some of the ones we had done the day before.  We had to scale down a considerably big hill - walking downhill was downright brutal on my right knee - before crossing a river and then climbing back up the same distance, shown here.  We had mentally prepared ourselves for it - by this point in time, having hiked almost 19 miles, we were physically on fumes - so it wasn't so bad.

Consulting the map, not because we were lost - we only got lost once today, and not for very long at all - but rather to see how much more hiking we had left in front of us.  The other two's legs were pretty sore, and my knee was crap, so we were all looking forward to the comfort of the cars that were waiting for us at the trail's end.

I love informational signs like this.

Taking a much-needed breather, with about two miles left to go.

Another scenic overlook.  We didn't get tired of these at all.

Ryan scurries across the last bridge to go before we hit the trail's end.

Right at the end of the trail, just as we were about to reach Civilization once again, the woods had one. last horrible joke to play on us: a dramatically steep climb up a sandy hill, with a high grade that ran on for about a quarter mile.  It was brutal, and sapped what was left of our energy.  We had to take breathers, like this one here, every twenty feet.

That may not look that steep, folks, but it was.  F*** you, Mother Nature.

The final overlook of the hike.

At long last, around 3:00pm, we reached the end of the trail.  Hikers who had reached here before us had all left their impromptu walking sticks behind for others to use.  Kyle and I - who had both found, carved out, and formed emotional attachments to the sticks that we had used throughout the last two days - both decided to keep ours as mementos (and for future adventures, of course.)  As for the underwear on the top of the sign. . . who knows.

Hiking back to the cars (which you can almost see in the distance.)  After loading up our gear, we caravanned to Clare, MI - right on the way home to Midland - and stopped off at the infamous Ruckle's Pier bar and restaurant for some much-needed burgers, fries, beers, and an assortment of calorie-laden, deep-fried appetizers.  We all smelled and looked like shit, but - hell - it's frickin' Clare.  I'm sure no one even noticed.

When I finally reached home, around 6pm, I took a shower and spent the rest of the evening rubbing muscle relaxer on my knees and thoroughly soaking what was left of my poor feet in Kris' foot spa.  Absolute bliss, folks.

- Brian