Rivers of Mud, Field Rest 2005, and the Stirring of the Heart of a Panther

Ah, Afton State Park, my old friend. The site of the first few February Freeze-Offs, as well as numerous other camping overnighters; it is temptingly close to the Twin Cities, considering the relatively large space in which to frolic, wonderfully hilly terrain, and nicely remote camping facilities (backpack only). Since our attempt to camp in Kansas Territory was thrwarted the previous weekend, we were damned sure going to make it happen this time. Originally, we were planning an overnight at Backbone State Park while down in Waterloo for my niece's high-school graduation open house. But the camping facilities there were too much an unknown, both in terms of availability (Iowa does not allow the reserving of sites) and quality (though Backbone is a cool place, that does not guarantee you are not squashed in between banks of RVs & screaming families, KOA-style, in the campground). I think my future Iowa camping experiences (and, perhaps my camping experiences anywhere) will be limited to backpack-site or backcountry only). Afton was a known and trusted entity.

We ran into rain, though. Good God, in what percentage of my past camping trips have I battled this old adversary? Almost certainly, it exceed the percentage of actual days in which these places have received rain throughout the years. While we did not battle "Rivers of Mud" as the post-title indicates (ala the trip to Eagle Mountain, or on the coast of Maine), we were facing something that ranged from a light drizzle to a steady downpour all the way from the parking lot to the actual campsite which, as some of my readers (2/3 of my readers?) may recall involves perhaps the longest uninterrupted uphill climb in the state of Minnesota. While nice weather is always preferable, I am generally an experienced enough camper these days to take rain in stride (though packing up a wet tent during a rain for continued backpacking would suck even for Will Steiger). As usual, though, the equation is slightly different when one of your party is about two years old. Not that she minded at all. Dressed up in blue rubber rain boots and a little blue raincoat that made it look like she was wearing nothing else, Lucy dutifully toted her froggie backpack along; and, as far as I could tell, she was unencumbered by the slightest amount of stress about how & when we would be able to set the tent up, how we would cook that night (or build a fire) or any other general campout concern. It did let up, right about when we got into camp; and aside from two more very brief deluges (one very shortly after while we huddled in the tent, that brought to mind very vivid recollections of "Rivers of Mud;" and one at about 4 am), the rain clouds did very little other than constantly threaten for the rest of the day/night/next morning. We ended up getting in a brief hike up to the pine forest, having a nice campfire (& eating s'mores), and getting a very comfortable night's sleep (Sharon switched her traditional side with me-sacrificing the ability to zip her bag to her claustrophobic husband's, and granting him the ability to keep his sleeping bag's zipper to the outside), and a beautiful next morning.

The next morning was, indeed, beautiful. We had a leisurely morning, then packed up everything with the intent of backpacking a roundabout way back to the car. My little girl loves hiking, though we end up moving at a pace of about a half mile-per hour. We left the trail up near the pine forest that some of you may recall and, peeking out the other side, I happened to see what may have been the actual site of the original field rest (Feb. of 95-96? when it was 50+ degrees and all the snow melted off a south-facing hillside and we all rested in various stages of disrobe, following an intense snowball fight). I snapped a picture that I will forward to all interested parties. Looks quite different in the summer, as the prairie grasses (technically oak savannah grasses) are tall & green, rather than matted & yellow. The pine forest was long & lovely & provided me a chance to hear my favorite sound in the world-the timeless rush of wind in the tops of evergreens.

At the end of the forest, we got back on the trail, took a huge descent down by the river and began the long trek through river bottoms back to the car. Along the way, we encountered a number of trail runners, padding along with near-zero body fat and rhythmic panting. Man, but I am suddenly wishing I was in the midst of training to be able to do the 25K race at Afton...but alas. I am not. And my body fat percentage is not, well, zero.