Early spring camping at Buckhorn State Park

At some point during a humdrum day of work about two weeks ago, my fella and I got to talking about camping. During the last year or so, we'd begun taking our first excursions to state parks for mountain biking and hiking, and had decided that we wanted to check out the various campsites offered there, too. So as we discussed the good turn the weather was finally taking, I looked at my calendar, saw that an upcoming weekend was free, and suggested we break in ourselves and the season with a camping trip.

My fella agreed, and, flipping through a very handy guidebook for tent camping in Wisconsin, fell upon the backpacking sites up at Buckhorn State Park. We made our reservations, gathered our gear, shopped for food, and then loaded up the van this past Friday evening to head north for the park.

We reserved site #7, recommended as a great place for "solitude lovers", which is one of several backpack sites where you park and then hike a good mile or so in to your spot. Buckhorn is a great place for a sort of beginners backpack camping experience, with large hand carts provided so that campers can haul in a bit more gear than just what could be carried on your back. We rolled into the park just after dark and the ranger station was already closed, but they'd left our reservation instructions taped to the window.

Anxious to get to the site and pitch our tent (there were some ominous looking clouds blowing in overhead), we went to get our hand cart, only to face a moment of deep dread when we discovered that it was locked up. After some consternation and searching, we discovered the combination to our cart written inside the reservation envelope and were on our way. The hike in through the woods seemed longer that first night, probably due to anxiousness and lack of light. Still, after a brief interlude where a tarp was lost to the trees, we made it in and managed to pitch our tent despite high winds. Even in the dark, I could see that our site was right on the shore of Castle Rock Lake, with a two-to-three foot drop down to the water.

On our second trip back to the car to get food, we bumped into another group of campers who were on their way in. It was a group of guys, probably college-aged, carrying a few packs of beer and their gear by hand. They asked us how we'd gotten our hand cart, and we explained the combination on the slip of reservation paper, which they'd apparently completely neglected to pick up. We set them on the right path, and they promised to "keep the noise down" - something we weren't exactly holding out hope for, judging by the number of guys and the copious amounts of liquor. Still, their campsite was separated from ours by woods and a marshy inlet, so perhaps it wouldn't be too bad.

A dinner of PB&J sandwiches in our bellies, we headed back to camp. Uninterested in the challenge of starting a fire that late at night and in such high winds, we decided to hit the hay. I only heard a few whoops from the neighbors that night, and was able to sleep without much trouble.

The next morning we awoke to very chilly air, clouds and drizzle. It took some doing to convince myself to leave the warm confines of the sleeping bag, but my bladder eventually compelled me to start the day. We set about rigging up some sort of covering for the picnic table (each campsite comes equipped with one such table, plus a nice wooden bench and a fire pit) so that we could cook over our little Coleman stove. The fella has recently taught himself the fine art of knot tying, and was able to secure a pretty decent (if not terribly asthetically pleasing) lean-to of tarp. We ate a breakfast of granola and yogurt, plus hot tea, before heading back out to the ranger station to acquire firewood.

There are all sorts of hiking trails, a place to rent canoes, and fishing ponds throughout the park, but we were too focused on keeping warm and feeding ourselves to find time to enjoy much of that. Something to go back and do, though, once the weather is a bit nicer. Instead, I set about keeping a fire going while my fella brewed more tea. Finally, in the early afternoon, the rain stopped and slowly but surely the sun came out. By late afternoon, it was blissfully sunny and mostly clear (if still cool), so we passed the time reading books around the fire. Sometimes not doing much of anything is the best vacation.

That evening we attempted a cooked meal, consisting of tortillas with rice, beans, cheese and lettuce. We realized too late that we'd forgotten any kind of strainer, so made due with somewhat watery rice. Even so, hungry as we were, it all tasted delicious. Or, at least, it felt delicious. Sometimes you're too hungry to care. Then s'mores for dessert (how could we not?) and bed.

It may be worth noting that, throughout the entire day, we were privy to the emphatic bellowing of boys in the neighboring camp, who sounded like they were engaged in some sort of epic beanbag throwing tournament. I'm pretty sure I saw a beer bong, too. Normally, I could give a rats ass about that sort of entertainment, but why trek all the way out there to do it?

Anyway, Sunday morning broke sunny and cool, lulling us into a false sense of complacency. After breakfast, the winds picked up again, making it deeply unpleasant to remain on the shore as we were. We set about striking camp and hauling everything back to the car, noting that once we were in the woods, the day was extremely pleasant. We lingered along the trail, photographing strange, curled and fuzzy fern stalks and examining the various "bait trees" set up by the park to test for the presence of the dreaded emerald ash borer (none yet, thankfully).

By just after noon, we were packed and ready to take our leave. And though I'm sad we didn't get the chance to really explore the park, I'm glad we took the time to take the trip. Buckhorn seems like a beautiful park, with lots of things to do and explore, and the campsites (at least ours) are top-notch. They have easier to access sites, too, as well as a handicap-accessible cabin for rent. I highly recommend checking it out, if you get the chance.

Playing in the snow at Donald Park

Back when I wrote about my adventures at Indian Lake Park, Brad V. of the blog Letters in Bottles recommended I check out Donald County Park, too. Interestingly enough, I'd passed the trail head a number of times while on the way to visit friends who lived out in the country beyond Mt. Vernon, but never realized what it was.

Thanks to Brad's tip, I remembered to suggest going to check it out when me, The Boy and my sister, who was out visiting for the weekend, decided to go snowshoeing on Saturday.

Donald Park has two trail heads - the main entrance along Hwy. 92 called Pop's Knoll and an equestrian access point along Hwy. G. We headed to the Pop's Knoll entrance, only to find ourselves confronted with a decidedly unplowed driveway with a closed gate. According to the signs, though, the park was open. We grumbled about the lack of plowing, but decided to check the equestrian entrance to see if we could get in that way. It, too, was unplowed, but that entrance is just a stone's throw from "downtown" Mt. Vernon, so we parked along the street and just walked up to the trail head.

It was nearly a perfect day for the trek, with the temperatures finally rising above zero and into the twenties with almost no wind. On top of that, because of last week's snowfall and the park's somewhat off-the-beaten-path status, the landscape was relatively unmarred. We spotted just two other sets of snowshoe tracks. There isn't any cross country skiing in the park, either, so the rest of the snow was flawless and sparkling.

From the equestrian access point, the hiking trail goes down through the woods and alongside some low bluffs before emerging into the middle of a wide open field. We marveled at the quiet beauty of the place, also taking a moment to catch our breath, and then headed out across the expanse. The trail disappears into woods again before veering right and crossing a low wooden bridge that spans a small creek. Covered in snow as it was, the crossing made for quite the picturesque vista. I snapped a few pictures before we went ahead.

By that point, we'd gone just over a mile and a half and were feeling a little worn out. We were further encouraged to turn around and head back when we realized that our trail was about to run alongside a snowmobile trail. A group of them were whizzing noisily up and down the track, breaking the wintry silence we'd previously been enjoying.

So we turned around and made the trek back. By the time we got back to the car, we were all pleasantly exhausted and ready to eat. We drove back into town and stopped at Java Cat, my favorite place for gelato this side of the Atlantic.

Overall, I'm very glad to have been tipped off about Donald Park. I definitely intend to go back in the spring or summer to do some proper hiking and exploring, as the park contains much more than what we saw on our snowshoe outing. It's a lovely space, with rolling hills, woodlands and trout streams, and close by to the very tiny, very cute town of Mt. Vernon. Heartily recommended.

Turn, turn, turn

The changing leaves, increase in the doorstep pumpkin population and the cooling air should all be plenty to remind me that the season is changing and that winter will soon be nipping at our noses. And yet, for me, it is only the arrival of the last outdoor farmers' market of the year that really brings home the end of the milder months.

Be sure to gather your canvas bags, wagons and walking shoes for one last go-round the capitol this Saturday at the final outdoor Dane County Farmers' Market until next spring.

Thankfully, we have a very nice indoor market to get us through the winter, but we all know that it's just not quite the same. This year, however, I'm vowing to do more with the snowy months (provided we get a decent amount of the stuff, anyway). My goal for this winter is to get back onto a snowboard for a little downhill adventuring at places like Tyrol Basin and Cascade Mountain. Maybe do some snowshoeing, too. Definitely sledding. I have fond memories of sledding down a huge hill behind St. Mary's College in Winona, MN, when I was a kid. It's where we "invented" the practice of "butt-bombing," which basically involved a narrow, slick-as-hell ice hill and sledding without a sled. Ah, the many uses of snow pants. Speaking of, anyone know where I could get a nice pair of adult sized snow pants? It's been way too long....

In the meantime, though, it's still light jacket weather and the lakes are not yet frozen over. I think there's still time for some regular ol' hiking, biking and general outdoor lallygagging. Plus, despite all the hoopla from this past weekend, there's still a proper Halloween to be had! Be sure to swing by the High Noon Saloon for dane101's Hallow-Rockin-Ween, a fundraiser for Second Harvest Foodbank with a whole bunch of great bands, costume contests, prizes and good times. I'll be there, dressed to the nines and taking pictures as usual.

Driftless

I traveled a short distance north over the weekend to stay at a cabin in the middle of nowhere and basically relax. Aside from sitting in front of a wood stove, cooking pancakes and reading Neil Gaiman, I also ventured out into the countryside to explore a small section of the Driftless Region of Wisconsin (so-called because the glaciers never quite made it there and left the landscape as it was before the Ice Age).

Just a hop-skip-and-a-jump from the cabin was the small town of Wilton, a way point along the Elroy-Sparta Bike Trail and home of Gina's Pies 'R' Square, a delicious cafe just blocks from the trail head. I had the veggie burger, which proved to be extremely good, and a slice of quite respectable pecan pie for dessert. I say "quite respectable" because I lived in Oklahoma (where I actually did a little bit of pecan harvesting) for a couple of years and they make some of the best pecan pie down there. Most anything else tends to pail in comparison.

The waitstaff was very friendly and even encouraged me to consider buying the restaurant (which is for sale for a mere $195,000), something I'd love to do but doubt my bank account could handle.

The place was bustling when I went on Saturday afternoon, most of the patrons appearing to be coming in from the nearby bike trail. There was a sea of bikes parked alongside the brick building and everyone from rambunctious children to cheery adults and silver-haired adventurers were bellying up to the tables inside. Feel free to take a look at the few pictures I took in the area.

Afterwards, I went over to Wildcat Mountain State Park and tooled around for a little bit. The fall colors were just starting to pop--lots of yellows and golds and a few bright reds here and there, too. Unfortunately, the skies were a bit overcast the day I was out, so it was not ideal for photography. Still, I found a great spot that overlooked the entire valley, with the church spire and housetops of Ontario off to the right and a shimmering bend in the Kickapoo River emerging from the colorful trees just to the left.

Along the quiet back roads, I passed a lot of folks on horseback and innumerable cars with canoes and kayaks perched on top. I think I'll have to add all of those activities to my list of things to do the next time I'm in the area.

Overall, it was a lovely weekend--just too short and a bit more cloudy than I would have preferred. Still, I'm always amazed that, just a short distance to the west and north of Madison's mostly flat terrain, there's this completely different landscape full of bluffs, rivers, valleys and beautiful forests.