Zaleski State Park

Friday afternoon, after a near full day's work for many of us, we piled our loaded backpacks in Jon's truck and set out for southern Ohio and Zaleski State Park. After a 2.5 hr car ride we were greeted by the blaring horn of Threewitts' mufferless, purply Geo and caravaned through the curvy hills to the trailhead. Cheerful and energetic we tied on do-rags or clapped on hats, and strapped our loads onto our backs like eager stamping pack animals for a 2 mile hike to a secluded campsite.

Our eager trotting on the shady path soon turned into panting and plodding up various steep and root strewn slopes. Cresting the halfway point of some hellish incline my face felt like it was baking and boiling over and my breath came to me in gasps. Small sips of lukewarm water insulted my throbbing tongue. Why had I agreed to submit myself to torture of my own making? Was I insane? I felt to brain numbingly deoxygenated to know. My mind screamed a single thought- keep moving so we can get there! But would we ever arrive? We finally did, after maybe an hr- i don't know, it felt like all day to me. I wasn't the only one. We wearily tramped by two sites, already inhabited, and a flung our packs on the next clearing of gravelly dirt. I had not suffered alone. My comrades were equally red in the face, some, perhaps, even more unconditioned than myself. It was Noah's first experience backpacking- he didn't have much to say for awhile. But there was no time for rest. Dark night was settling in. Relieved of our burdens, our muscles felt free for lighter tasks- setting up tents and chairs, unpacking food and starting a fire. For the heartier of our gang, the latter chore involved hunting down firewood, chopping down small trees by flashlight, or blowing great gales of breath on small kindling to create a larger flame and further deoxygenation of the brain. The brain, low on oxygen, functions erractically creating giddy foolishness in bedraggled people. Our neighbors were sympathetic patiently enduring shouts of ribbing and laughter. Afterall, we'd conquered the mountain (aka steep hills).
After attempting to fill ourselves with chicken fajitas, we went to sleep with unsatiated appetites. There were alot of leftover shells. Some flavored theirs with pancake syrup, some were content to inhale them plain. I slept well, ignoring the thinness of our mats and turning every half hour to relieve hip pain, occasionally fluffing my pillow of dirty, waded up jeans covered with clean tshirt. I'd finally got comfortable on my back, when daylight washed over us, and the birds started their morning councils- I slept and dreamt strange dreams for another hour. Awake, we groggily, achingly, reluctantly removed ourselves from a warm cacoon. David and I were the last ones out of our tent. Kevin had already started a fire and whittled a spatula for our enormous frying pan. The boys were soon busy sawing and splitting more wood. After a breakfast of bacon and pancakes (batter shook in Matt's wide-mouth water bottle), the young stags were ready to play, and hung a rope swing from a high branch. I took my turn swinging out over the hill. Quite exhilarating!

Later we settled down around the fire to read or write or just stare off into green space. Derek rocked in his borrowed hammock, a few feet from the fire. Kevin and Heather relaxed in their blue-tarp shelter, also with a view of the flames. With the lure of swimming dangling before our sweaty eyes, and the need to retrieve our food for the evening meal, we hit the trail again. This time some of us went packless, or only carried small daypacks. The trek back to the trailhead was sweat inducing and breath-taking, but not so painful as before. We piled in the truck bed, our faces cooled by the wind of speed, as we drove to the nearest beach of the lake. Some swam, some kayaked, some slept and read. We were refreshed.

Back at the parking lot, daypacks traded possession, and were loaded with supplies for hobo burgers: 5lb of hamburger, 5lb of potatoes, 3lbs of carrots, 2 large onions, aluminum foil, and seasoning salt. I didn't carry a thing besides my water bottle. I knew where my glutteals clung to my bones by the time we returned to the camp. Hobo burgers were a handsome reward. I couldn't even eat all mine- David and Jon were ravenously glad. We sat around and considered exploring futher along the trail, but instead, continued sitting, daydreaming about the cool fruity or milky confections we would feast on the next day, lazily throwing woodchips at one another for amusement. Some reading. Rehanging of the swing, on a limb hanging directly over the trail. Taking turns in the hammock. Late, late we resigned ourselves to bed. Kevin improved he and Heather's bed, with a couple tarps full of dried leaves. Jon and Noah slept on twin and king sized air mattresses, respectively.

Sunday morning we wasted little time. Downing our oatmeal (crackers and cheesewiz and jerky preferred by some), disassembling shelters, and stuffing our packs. We were back to our vehicles by 10:30 am. On the road to see Cedar Falls, we stopped at a lonely general store and increased their wealth for the day, stocking up on icecream bars, potato chips and sodas. At Cedar Falls, the few energized enough by junk food, climbed to the top of the cliff to wave down at the other half, content to relax on sun-warmed rocks, and be soothed and entertained by the falling water and the dozens of children and parents sightseeing.

A few hours later we were home again-home again- jiggity jig- achity ache. "Character-building will last your whole life through, character-building will build a better you!" We can't wait to go again this fall and/or next spring, but we plan to find some better trails.