Day 5: A Day of People

February 27: I woke up at a ridiculously early 4:00am. It wasn't a surprise given the fact that I fell asleep at 7:30 the evening before--it gave me a solid 8.5 hours of sleep. But I also knew that waking up so early would cause me to fall asleep especially earlier tonight as well. Oh, well....

It sprinkled a few times during the night, and I was glad that I had already set up my tarp so I didn't have to frantically run around in the dark setting it up. I had hours before daylight, though, so I did turn on my phone to check the weather and make sure AQ was still up and running, but I didn't linger and shut it down quickly. It would have to stay off again until tomorrow morning. For the rest of the pre-light morning, I simply read my Kindle to kill time.

Someone left behind this chair at an officially designated campsite a little further up the trail. I was a little disappointed that I hadn't camped here and used it!

By dawn, the sprinkling had stopped, but the temperature felt particularly warm and humid. I probably could have slept the whole night with no sleeping bag at all and been perfectly warm and cozy. It actually felt warmer to me in the morning now than it did when I went to sleep last night which almost never happens.

The trail was non-eventful for the most part. The most exciting thing to happen was running into a sign marking the high point a whopping 445 feet (136 m) above sea level. I would have walked passed the momentous point if it hadn't been labeled since it was not at all obvious that I was at a high point. The trail feels mostly flat. Describing the trail as "rolling hills" seems generous at best. Attached to the post was an ammo can with a register that hikers could sign, so I stopped to do that.

It's official! We're at the highest point of the Lone Star Trail! At least that's my assumption... the sign actually doesn't say what it's the high point of. The county? The state? Or maybe it's just informative. "This mountain is called High Point and it's at 445 feet above sea level." The high point of the trail could be somewhere else and is even higher! So... the sign actually isn't super clear and I'm making an enormous assumption that it's the high point of the trail.

In the middle of day, I needed to follow a road walk for several miles. The first segment was next to a busy and miserable road full of traffic, but it was the two dogs that ran out from one of the houses that gave me the most concern. They did not seem particularly friendly at all. I was a little surprised that they weren't leashed or fenced in. Typically, along a busy road, most owners don't let their dogs run loose since they might be struck by traffic, but these owners seemed particularly reckless in that regard. It's usually the quieter backroads where I find troublesome dogs.

I checked for traffic and quickly dashed to the other side of the road figuring that maybe a line of busy cars between me and the dogs would cause them to back off, and it appeared to work. At first....

They barked angrily at me from the far side of the road, and I turned my back and continued to walk off. Then I heard a car honk its horn and slam on their breaks. I turned to look and saw that one of the dogs had, in fact, picked up its courage to cross the road to chase me and nearly paid for that decision with its life. The dog ran back to the edge of the road--the opposite side from me--and the vehicle that honked its horn slowly drove by.

I was a little disappointed that the vehicle hadn't actually hit the dog. At least the dog wouldn't have been a threat to me anymore--and perhaps it would teach the dog's owner a lesson that maybe they shouldn't let their dog run loose. I don't hate dogs, but these sorts of unfriendly dogs should not be running loose. They're a danger to pedestrians like me, and even to vehicles on the road. (People can and do swerve to avoid animals on the road which has led to accidents and deaths.)

The two dogs continued to bark, and I continued trying to put more distance between us.

Eventually, I left the dogs behind, as well as the busy road for a quieter road. I worried that the quieter road would be even more problematic with dogs running loose, but except for a couple at the end of the road walk, it wasn't. And even the couple that did come out to chase me didn't put much effort into it since I had already passed the property they were on before they noticed my presence.

The more exciting thing to happen was crossing paths with three other backpackers--three of them! They were hiking in the opposite direction and we chatted for several minutes. It was nice to feel like I was among "my people" again. (i.e. backpackers). They were the first backpackers I had seen on the trail, and had even seen my post on the Lone Star Trail Facebook page asking where all the other hikers were (which I posted before I had realized how critical my electricity needs had become).

I was a little disappointed that we weren't hiking in the same direction, but we eventually headed our separate ways.

And eventually, the trail headed back into the woods. I decided to take a decently long break once I re-entered the woods, with the peace and quiet of nature around me. I took off my shoes. You know it'll be a long break when I take off my shoes. I almost ever bother unless I'm going to stop for at least a half hour. I planned to stop for a full hour!

I had been minding my own business and eating snacks for about 20 minutes when I heard what sounded like a shotgun blast just out of view. WTF?! I looked around, trying to figure out if I was in the line of fire of some idiot, but I didn't see anyone. Which, of course, would have meant they couldn't see me. I really hoped those bullets didn't fly further than they could see.

I had been sitting on a log, but I moved to the ground behind the log for added protection as more gunfire roared through the air.

I figured whoever it was must be shooting at targets. With as many shots being made, any animals in the area would have long since scattered. Still not entirely sure where the gunfire was being directed, though, I didn't feel very comfortable. And anyhow, it totally ruined the quiet, peaceful contemplation of my break.

I slipped my shoes back on, hefted my pack, and continued hiking. My break was done.

Later in the afternoon, I passed another post with a sign on the trail, this time marking the halfway point of the trail. Given the long detour I took on day #3 around the bridge closure, I was actually past my halfway point, but in terms of official trail miles--I had reached the halfway point. Hip! Hip! Hurray!

Halfway! It's official! I was particularly fond of the paintings on the signs. Much more interesting than typical boring signs with just text. =)

A solitary runner passed me heading in the opposite direction--the fourth person I saw on the trail today. The trail was feeling positively crowded compared to the first four days! =)

Late in the afternoon, the sun had come out for a bit, and I threw out my solar charger hoping to grab a little extra energy, but the partly cloudy skies caused it not to be consistent. It charged for a little bit, but I knew it didn't amount to much. If I was lucky, my solar charger might have reached 15% full.

Looking ahead on the map, there was a 3-mile road walk ahead--at about the area where I wanted to camp. I definitely had no intention of camping on a road-walk, however, and decided to add an extra 3 miles to my day's hike to get me into the Big Woods section of the trail.

The road walk wasn't particularly bad. It was on a gravel road through undeveloped areas with no houses and therefore no dogs running loose. The trail did pass by the Huntsville Compression Station, which apparently has something to do with the oil industry, but I'm not exactly sure what the purpose of a "compression station" is. I just knew that it makes a heck of a lot of noise when you walk by it!

The Huntsville Compressor Station

I passed another backpacker heading in the opposite direction quite late in the afternoon. He looked absolutely exhausted, but I slowed down to say, "Hi! How are you?"

He answered, "Hi," in reply, and answered, "Doing well. Are are you?" He did not slow down to hear my answer, however, and kept walking by even as I told him that I was doing well. He really didn't look like he was doing well, though. I was pretty sure he had lied to me!

Okay, not very talkative. That's fine, but I was a little disappointed. I wondered how far he had come today because he really did look like crap. If he told me he he had just hiked 40 miles that afternoon, I'd totally have believed him.

I finally reached the end of the road walk, at which point I planned to stop at the first decent campsite I could find. I was little dismayed, however, when I saw that everything had burned. Starting right at the trailhead where the trail re-entered the woods, it had been completely burned. My gut feeling was that it was a prescribed burn, but I didn't know that for certain at the time. The ground cover was thoroughly scorched, but the trees of the forest seemed to be fine and even the signage by the trailhead was undamaged from the fire.

It looked like a prescribed burn to me!

I had no desire to camp in a recently burned area, however. The dark ash sticks to everything and is so messy. I walked along the trail, looking for somewhere that somehow didn't burn. Fires are strange things, often skipping areas, and maybe the burn area didn't actually extend very far. If it only burned a quarter-mile into the woods, I could just camp on the other side. No problem!

So I continued hiking. Maybe a quarter-mile into the woods, I found an area that had been skipped by the burn. It didn't seem that I had made it completely through the burn area since I could see burn areas all around me, but this little pocket of flatness somehow came through unscathed and I called it a day. The campsite smelled like I was in a burn area, and I can't imagine was good for my lungs. It felt like breathing in secondhand smoke--but with the more pleasant smell of a campfire than a cigarette--but at least I wasn't camped in the burn area.

Sprinkles were expected during the night so I set up my tarp and called it a night.

As predicted, I fell asleep fairly early in the evening. By 8:00, I was out cold. It had been my longest day on the trail so far: 15.8 miles.

Fortunately, I found a place that escaped the burn to set up camp for the night.

There was cattle country out here!

Which made it a very good idea to treat your water. =) I actually brought a couple of water treatment options. I usually preferred using the Sawyer filter, but I did take this UV light which could also disinfect water.

I noticed a particularly large number of leaves from evergreen trees that seemed to be losing their leaves. I suspected it was probably due to the extreme cold weather from the week before. I'm not sure if the weather killed the trees and the leaves were falling off or if the leaves had frozen and were damaged and falling off to make room for new ones to grow, but I don't think these leaves normally fall off in such numbers when they're still green.

This campsite had a register in the mailbox.

Day 4: The Construction Mess

February 26: It rained on and off throughout the night, often times quite hard, but it didn't bother me as I was safe and dry under my tarp. No mishaps to report!

The rain started tapering off by 7:00am, and I was up and ready to start hiking by 8:00.

The trails were particularly slick with mud today given the large amount of rain from the night and morning, and I managed to slip in two different places while crossing small streams, much to my annoyance. As I've mentioned before, the steepest part of the trail was always going into and out of a stream crossing. The banks were always steep, and with the fresh rain, they were even slipier (slippier? slipiest? more slippery. Yes, more slippery...) than normal. I wore a lot of mud on my clothes and my backpack today.

Evidence of my slipping and sliding in the mud along the trail.

The trail soon came out to a road which I followed to a dam and, I was surprised to learn, the official trail actually crossed over the dam's spillway! I've crossed a lot of dams along a lot of trails, but never did it actually go directly across the spillway.

The water only appeared be less than an inch deep, but it appeared that moss was growing on it and that it could be very, very slippery. Fortunately, if I slipped and fell, I'd only slide maybe 10 to 15 feet down the slope into a pool of water at the bottom. Not exactly a death-fall, but it would have been enormously inconvenient if it happened!

I stopped to wrap my camera in a buff then stuffed it into a ZipLock bag to protect it in case I did slip, then proceeded to slowly walk across the spillway.

I made it across without any problems--thank goodness for that!--then pulled out my camera and resumed the hike.

The trail crossed this spillway! And that concrete is slick!

While taking a break, I saw my first hiker since starting the trail! He was a day hiker, or rather, a jogger, out with his dog for a little exercise. I was genuinely shocked to see him on the trail. Just seeing anybody on the trail seemed like a novelty. He stopped to chat for a few minutes and asked if I was from the Houston area. Apparently, I look like people from Houston. The dad with the two kids at the beginning of the trail had asked me the same question. Once was just a curiosity. Twice is a pattern! I told him no, I was from the "Seattle area." I kind of giggled at the phrase. I wasn't just from the Seattle "area"--I was from the actual city of Seattle. Nothing "area" about it! 

He eventually continued onward, as did I until the trail came out at a parking lot overlooking Interstate 45. To the north, I spotted an absolutely enormous statue--it towered over the vehicles on the highway like they were Matchbox cars. Later I would find out it was a statue of Sam Houston, which makes a lot of sense. Everything in the area is named after him, and his grave is a bit to the north in Huntsville.

That's a BIG statue in the distance....

More troubling for me, however, was the closed road to the south. At this point, the trail was supposed to follow a 2-mile road walk toward the south, under I-45, then back to another trailhead on the other side of the highway before diving into the woods again.

To the south, I could see a major construction project happening. The reason for the road closure was obvious. What was not obvious, however, was if the road was also closed to pedestrians. There was nothing to indicate if I could continue along my route or needed to find an alternative around the closure.

I set down my pack and considered my options. Eventually, I decided to pull out my phone and turn it on to see if I could find any information about this construction project online. I really didn't want to turn on my phone--I'd be using precious electricity which was in short supply--but if this wasn't a time to use it, then what was? I had been trying to limit its use early in the morning before the sun rose. I could keep the screen as dim as it would display and check the hourly weather forecast for the day before turning it off until the next morning. Turning it on in the middle of the day and using it when I needed to brighten the screen (which used battery power even faster) had not been on my to-do list.

At least I could be pretty certain I'd get a strong signal along I-45.

What to do? What to do...?

I checked the Facebook page for the Lone Star Trail as well as their website directly but couldn't find anything about a detour around this section, so I guess that meant there wasn't a detour and it was safe to continue through the construction zone? Nothing I found said it was okay.... just that it didn't say I couldn't.

I made a couple of calls with my phone since it was already on and I got a single--I could talk without the screen being on--and I may as well check in with everyone while I could. Once I turned the phone off again, I wouldn't turn it on again until the next morning. (If all went well.)

Soon, a construction vehicle was leaving the construction zone and I flagged it down to ask if it was okay for pedestrians to walk through. He said something in a thick Spanish accent that I had trouble understanding, pointed in the opposite direction and said something that I just couldn't understand. "So can I go that way?" I asked again, pointing down the closed road. He shrugged and said, "Yeah. Okay." I almost detected a "why not?" in his tone of voice.

I have to say, it wasn't a very convincing "yes", but a yes IS a yes! =)

I wound up walking underneath this crane.

I walked through the road closed signs and toward the construction zone, where another construction vehicle approached me, then started slowing down as he got near me. I really hoped he wasn't going to stop and tell me I couldn't be there. *fingers crossed*

He stopped and rolled down his window, sticking out his hand which was holding a Gatorade. He didn't even say anything, just held it out waiting for me to take it.

I stepped over and took it, thanking him, and he rolled up his window and drove off. Well, I thought, that went really well. =)

And... I got trail magic! What a shock!

He seemed to know exactly what I was doing, hiking through, and not only didn't have a problem with it, but even wanted to support the hike in his own small way.

I put the Gatorade in my pack for later, then continued onward toward the construction site.

The closer I got, the more nervous it made me. The road, eventually, had been completely torn out and I was walking on gravel. Large trackers and cranes were moving quickly and efficiently all over the place, with giant buckets of dirt being moved all over the place. I didn't really feel comfortable approaching too close to them. None of the workers I had talked to (including a pick-up truck with about 8 men in the back just before the pavement stopped) had used radios to call ahead and warn the workers ahead that a hiker was coming through. I didn't know how visible I was to them, or if they were keeping their eyes open for hikers going through, and it made me nervous.

It really felt like I shouldn't be here....

Eventually I reached the scariest part of them all. There was a giant crane on the left side of the road holding a container of something obviously very heavy, as if it was going to place it on the ground on the right side of the road. Steep, slick, mud-lined banks lined both sides of the gravel road so there wasn't a practical way to walk around it. The only way I could see through was by walking directly under the crane with its heavy load.

I slowed my pace as I approached, not sure if the crane operator knew I was there and definitely not wanting him to swing the heavy container in my direction. Another worker with a hardhat was standing on the ground, ready to move the container to its proper place and he saw me approaching.

He held out his hand, indicating that I should stop, and I stopped. At least one person knew I was out there and was looking out for me!

He seemed to pause for a moment, trying to decide what to do, then made some sort of hand single to the crane operator. The crane was so loud, talking over it seemed impractical, but they seemed to have their hand signals all sorted out.

Then he motioned for me to continue through, and I did. As I walked passed him, I told him that it felt like I really shouldn't be out there, and he nodded agreeably. "Yes."

Crossing under Interstate 45.

Hmm... Okay. Did that mean I wasn't supposed to be hiking through this construction zone?

In any case, once I made it past the crane, there was no more heavy equipment ahead of me anymore. I had made it through unscathed! I was still in the construction zone--just that the heavy equipment and the active part of the construction zone was now behind me.

I continued onward, marching under I-45 and finally left the construction zone behind me on the far side the highway.

Whew! Made it....

I took a short break and drank the Gatorade. I felt extraordinarily tired and started to fall asleep. It was still the middle of the afternoon and I couldn't figure out my sudden tiredness.

But I wasn't going to set up camp along the frontage road for I-45, so eventually I picked up my pack and continued onward, eventually re-entering the comfort of the woods.

Initially, I had planned to camp somewhere near mile marker 39 but decided to stop about a mile earlier when I reached a break in the trees due to powerlines passing through. The sun, remarkably, had come out late in the day. Well, it was partly cloudy, but patches of sun came out and I figured it would give my solar charger a chance to work to leave it out in the sun. My phone was down to a 50% charge and my solar charger was clocking in with absolutely nothing. If only I could plug it directly into the powerlines! Power, power everywhere, but not a drop was accessible!

So much power, but with no way to access it, it was dead to me. The clearing, however, gave me space to set out my solar charger!

I set up camp in the trees at the edge of the powerlines, and by the time the sun set, my solar charger was showing that it was at least 10% powered. I had some power in it! Not much, but 10% was still better than nothing!

I went to sleep with the distant hum of traffic from I-45 in the background. And I wound up falling asleep at about 7:30 in the evening. I was just too tired to stay awake until a more reasonable hour. Oh, well....

Home, sweet, home. Rain was expected during the night, however, so before going to sleep, I would set up my tarp. But for now, it wasn't necessary.

More evidence of my falling into the mud. At least my pants provided good camo for the mud!

The banks of Alligator Branch were so difficult to get up and down, someone set up this rope to help get across. (And I still nearly slipped and fell!)

Much of the trail was severely waterlogged from the rain during the night and the morning.

Day 3: The Detour

February 25: It was about 1:00 in the morning when I woke up suddenly to a light sprinkle of rain. Drats! I had known this was a distinct possibility, however, and had planned ahead with my location for the campsite and had my tarp, tent stakes, trekking pole, Crocs and a headlamp at the ready. I leaped into action!

First, I wanted to keep all my stuff dry so I spread out the tarp across everything, then quickly staked out the corners. My gear was exposed to the slight sprinkle for probably less than 60 seconds before I got it covered. Staking out the tarp and getting it off the ground took a few minutes more, but I dived back under the tarp still mostly dry. I gave myself a virtual pat on the back for a job well done.

Almost immediately, the rain stopped. Mother nature seemed to be toying with me, and the rain faucets of the sky stayed off the rest of the night. If I realized that it would be so little, I would have just thrown the tarp over myself like a blanket instead of setting it up. Oh, well....

 

And the detour begins!

I soon fell back asleep, secure in the knowledge that if it did start raining again, I could sleep soundly and wouldn't have to wake up again to deal with the matter.

The morning eventually dawned to a cloudy and gloomy day. I ate breakfast, brushed my teeth, and broke down camp. Today was one of my longer days of the trail--about 15 miles--but I didn't linger in camp. I knew the weather forecast called for rain later in the afternoon and I hoped to get as much of the 15 miles done before the rain started. If I was really lucky, maybe I could even finish the day's hike before any rain fell. That would be wonderful!

So... no lingering. No long rest breaks.

My shoulders felt particularly sore at this point. The heavy weight of my pack felt excruciating--more than I would have expected considering how easy the terrain was and how slowly I had been walking. My waist where the waist belt of my pack connected was more than a little sore as well, but it was the shoulders that were the most tender. It was also worse in the morning. Once I got walking, the pain numbed itself a bit, but getting my pack on in the morning--ugh!

Anyhow... I was ready to hit the trail. I only had to cover maybe a quarter-mile until I reached Farm Road 1375 and the start of the detour. Normally, the trail would head north and up and over Conroe Lake, but since the bridge across the San Jacinto River was washed out, I'd be walking primarily on roads and motorbike trails, adding an extra 5 or so miles to the official trail mileage, and walking across Lake Conroe.

FM 1375 was no pleasant walk either. It was a busy, paved road with fast-moving traffic and often times did not include much of a shoulder to walk on. The good news, however, was that it was fast and easy. I trod along at a quick pace, eager to get off the road.

Farm Road 1375 isn't a fun one to walk....

The maps I had included two possible detours. One was longer than the other, so naturally I was inclined to the shorter route, but the shorter route apparently required a small bit of bushwhacking which I had no interest in doing and I decided to do the longer of the alternates. Just because it was shorter in distance did not mean it would be faster! But it would certainly be more difficult! I went with the slightly longer option.

Conroe Lake

That had me turn up to the road to the Gulf Coast Trades Center, which sounds like a shipping empire but seemed to be more of a summer camp for kids as far as I could tell from walking by it, and I didn't see any kids. It was February, though, so maybe the camp wasn't running now?

Along this stretch, the traffic wasn't as busy, but there was still traffic and I heard one car slowing down as it came up from behind me. I rolled my eyes. I just knew they were going to be trouble. I don't know why I thought that, but I suspected the kind of people who often drove this road probably weren't hikers and probably didn't appreciate our presence.

The vehicle was a small, four-door sedan, and the driver rolled down her window. She was a middle-aged women and told me in no uncertain terms that camping was not allowed in the woods there. There was a camp nearby where 11-year old children (children! she repeated, in case I missed it the first time) played.

I got the distinct impression that she thought I was a pedophile. It was also 9:00 in the morning and the idea of setting up camp along such a busy road had never even occurred to me. And frankly, she ticked me off with her wild assumptions and implied accusations.

Gulf Coast Trades Center

"Well, ma'am," I said--deliberately using "ma'am" more as an insult than a sign of respect. "I have no intention of camping anywhere near here. I'm just hiking the Lone Star Trail."

I thought about not telling her what I was doing at all, but I really just wanted her to leave me alone and I figured if she knew I was just passing through with no intention of stopping anywhere nearby, she'd let me go with less of a fuss. I also wanted to give her the finger. Or mess with her in other ways. "Oh, thanks for letting me know that camping wasn't allowed. I'll be sure to be careful in choosing a good hiding place."

Or even tell her all the illegal things that she shouldn't be doing (and wasn't). "Hey, you know, you shouldn't be killing people and burying the bodies in your backyard." If she claimed that she'd never do that, I'd point out, "Well, you looked suspicious. I can't be too careful!"

Anyhow, I stayed polite, never-minding the passive-aggressive "ma'am" I threw at her earlier. I could imagine her reporting me to the police. "He called me ma'am! The scoundrel!"

I continued the hike. The paved road finally turned to gravel which I much appreciated, then turned onto a gravel road that had a barrier to block vehicles which I appreciated even more. At least I didn't have to worry about idiots driving along the road anymore.

I took a quick snack break at this point--I am only human, after all--and it was a pleasant place to rest.

But I soon picked up my pack again and marched onward. I was on a mission to get done with this detour and set up camp as early in the afternoon as possible.

The route soon turned onto a smaller trail, but this one appeared to be used by motorbikes and was badly eroded in places with lots of slick mud and puddles. I often had trouble getting around them without slipping in the mud--very annoying! I couldn't get mad at the bikers that did this, however, since I felt like I was invading their territory with my detour off the main trail, but I sure didn't enjoy it either.

Motorbikes seemed have really tore up this trail!

Then the route kind of reversed itself, turning onto bigger and busier roads as I neared the end of the reroute. First it turned onto a little-used gravel road. Then onto a busy paved road. I did pass a few people actually on foot--but they weren't hikers. They were workers tagging trees with ribbons marking a boundary for cutting the trees.

The last bit of the detour took me back onto a gravel road blocked to vehicles and I finally reached the primary route of the Lone Star Trail again. The detour, thank goodness, was over!

I took another rest here and ate a few snacks. At this point, I would have been happy just to stop anywhere. Getting through the detour had been my primary goal for the day and mission accomplished! But... I needed some water. I continued hiking until I reached a creek with a slightly milky color in it. Not the best-looking water I've ever seen, but at least it wasn't horribly muddy either.

As I was filling up with water, a few light sprinkles started to fall. Yep, I really needed to set up camp soon!

Filling up with water.

I got the water I needed--which took much longer than I preferred since I was treating it--then hit the trail. My guidebook reported some good places to camp not far ahead, so I set out to hit that.

Perhaps 10 to 15 minutes later, I found a decently large and clear area for a campsite. The rain, which had largely held off during the walk, started up again a few minutes before I found the site. If it hadn't been raining, I might have pushed on a little bit more looking for an even better site, but once the rain started, I took the first place I found that would fit me.

I dropped my pack, ripped out the tarp and set it up within a few minutes before diving under it for cover. I was wet--no two ways about it--but at least I wasn't soaking wet. My clothes were wet the to touch, but there wasn't enough water in them to wring it out if I tried.

Under the tarp, I spread out my groundsheet and relaxed. I kept my wet clothing on for the next half hour or so hoping my body heat would help dry it out. There are few things worse in life than putting on a cold, wet shirt in the morning. Eventually I got tired of the wet, clammy clothes and changed into my dry camp clothes.

Safe and slightly wet under my tarp! =)

I had reached camp by 2:30 in the afternoon. I still had a lot of daylight hours to kill. And, for some inexplicable reason, my electronic devices were extraordinarily low on power. My solar-powered charger was completely dead and with the overcast skies all day, I had been unable to recharge any of it. The fact that it was completely dead concerned me a bit. I had started the trail with it fully charged and hadn't used much of it. It shouldn't have been completely dead.

My phone was mostly charged... for now. But I needed the battery to last until I finished the trail nearly a week later. Have you ever tried to use a phone without recharging it for a week?

So I was a little disappointed when I realized that I couldn't pass the time watching Netflix like I often liked to do in the evening. Instead, I mostly read my Kindle. It was still fully charged and at least that device typically lasts for weeks between recharging! I could read it for hours every day and not run out of power for that.

I hadn't seen a single hiker all day on the trail, although with the two alternate routes available, it was possible we could have passed each other going in opposite directions without knowing it. But as far as I knew, I was alone on this trail. Where were all the other hikers?!

So I read a lot. The rain continued all afternoon and into the evening--a steady moderate rain. I cooked dinner later in the evening at the edge of my tarp. And wrote in my journal. And listened to the rain.

Uhhh... okay.... Good to know, I suppose.

Day 2: Howls in the Night

February 24: It was about 2:30 in the morning and I was dead asleep. Then.... HOOOOWWWWWLLLL! An ear-piercing howl echoed through the dark woods. I woke up immediately, the crap officially scared out of me. The howl sounded like it was coming from maybe a hundred feet away. I didn't think wolves were out here, so I wasn't sure what it was. Coyotes? A wild dog? Bigfoot?! It was nearly a full moon. Maybe it was a werewolf?!

Somewhere, something howls in the darkness....

If it was properly scared of people--and why wouldn't it be? Hunting was allowed in these woods, why did it sneak up so closely to me?  Maybe it didn't even realize I was here and just happened to howl. I looked through the dark woods but saw nothing. It was dark, but a nearly full moon filtered through the trees so it wasn't pitch black either. I held my breath and listened some more, but heard nothing but the wind filtering through the trees.

I wondered if I should shout at it. Let it know I was here and maybe scare it off--whatever it was. On the other hand, if it didn't know I was here, maybe that was the better option? Hmm... I wasn't sure what to do. I kind of wished I had my bear spray from the PNT. If I had that, I'd certainly make sure it was prepped and ready.

After the heart-attack-inducing wake-up call, I had trouble falling back asleep and pulled out my Kindle to read. About a half hour after that first howl, I heard another one, although this time is was much further away, and even more howls that seemed to answer in reply that were barely discernible. What was causing them?!

While reading my Kindle, I noticed a large shadow moving just in front of me. It was the moon casting the shadow from behind me, and I distinctly remember thinking, "I hope that's a tree overhead blowing in the wind."

I turned around and looked over my should and saw... nothing. Absolutely nothing. It was the wind blowing the trees. I went back to reading, but the moving shadow was still disturbing. It reminded me of something from a horror movie.

In all, it took me about two hours before I could finally fall asleep again, but I didn't sleep well after that.

The sun eventually rose and I had survived the night. Well, actually, the sun didn't rise per se. Grey clouds had blown in leaving the sky overcast and gloomy. I slept in late, though. Having only planned to hike about 10 miles for the day, I was no rush to get moving early and I needed the extra sleep! So I slept until about 8:00am.

 

When I finally woke and rubbed the sleep from my eyes, I noticed that my sleeping bag was inside out. It was quite warm the evening before and I hadn't actually pulled out my sleeping bag until long after dark, and I totally didn't notice the difference in colors from the inside and outside in the darkness. No harm done, but I was amused. After getting out of the bag, I pulled it through the opening by the head to make it right-side out again.

As I broke down camp, a few drops of water hit me. It wasn't rain, exactly. More like a thick fog that feels a little wet, but it wasn't foggy either. I assumed that maybe water had condensed on the tree branches and leaves above me and that's what was falling.

Anyhow, I finished breakfast and breaking down camp, then hit the trail.

Later in the afternoon, temperatures warmed up to something that I found uncomfortably warm. Not hot per se, but hotter than I preferred! Sections of the trail had puddles of water and one particularly swampy area required that I get my feet wet. There was no avoiding it! 

I took a couple of two-hour long breaks. With only 10 miles or so scheduled for the day, I was in no particular rush and took my time.

The day's hike was uneventful, though. I didn't run into a single hiker on the trail. Not a day hiker, not a backpacker. Absolutely nobody.

I finally set up camp shortly before a road at mile marker 16. I deliberately stopped short of the road. There was a bridge out ahead and I knew I'd have to follow the road for several miles on a detour around the closure, and I felt much more comfortable sleeping in the woods than along a potentially busy road.

I could hear traffic from the road in camp so I knew it was fairly busy, and I was glad not to be on it. =) But I was also far enough away that the noise from the road wasn't particularly bothersome.

The weather forecast also called for a chance of rain during the night. I wanted to cowboy camp, though, so I didn't set up my tarp. I did, however, select a location that was next to a tree I could use to tie a tarp over my campsite quickly and wouldn't pool water. I wasn't going to set up my tarp unless it started to rain, but at least I was prepared to set up my tarp quickly if needed.

And that was the end of the day. A nice walk in the woods.... =)

This bridge as a pretty big defect....

I find palmettos to be so fascinating! Like little palm trees without the trunk.

Caney Creek

Texas wants to hurt people!

Through this area, I had to get my feet wet for the first time. Very swampy!

You'll find quite a few pipelines across the trail.

This tree needed some iron, so it ate a blaze. =) (Unlike the AT and many other trails, these blazes are metal rectangles nailed to the trees rather than painted on.)

Setting up camp for the night again!