Sunday, May 1, 2022

Four Days on the Ouachita Trail

(Psst... I've made the switch over to Wordpress. If you want to continue reading my blogs, please go to jaynarichardson.wordpress.com. I'll try to duplicate posts here, but I've forgotten to do it several times! Here's my latest post.)


I’m back home from a four-day backpacking trip on the Ouachita Trail (and fresh out of the best shower that was ever showered!) This is a trip that took me months to plan and train for and was definitely the most physically challenging thing I’ve ever done. I’ve been going on long hikes at least once a week for over three months to condition my body for these four days in the wilderness, and while the training definitely paid off, the hours of hiking, rocky terrain, and changing elevation made this a very intense trip.

Day one, my parents drove me an hour and a half away to my starting point so that I wouldn’t have to leave my car somewhere while I hiked. Here I am, looking clean and human! (It’s no accident that I’m not posting pictures of myself from the end of the hike…)

Let's start this thing!

The weather was beautiful and my mom hiked with me for about 8.5 miles. My favorite part of day 1 was hiking alongside these gorgeous cascading waterfalls!

Waterfalls!
And more waterfalls!

I also almost stepped on this little guy (snake sighting #1 of 3):

He was not too interested in getting off the trail

I dropped my mom off at an access point where my dad was waiting and backtracked about a mile and a half to one of the trail shelters. I was supposed to meet up with a group of hikers from Oklahoma (a married couple in their early 60s, Paula and Mark, and a single woman named Cheryl) so that we could hike somewhat together over the next few days (safety in numbers and all that), but the other hikers were having some issues on the trail that prevented them from getting all the way to the shelter. So I prepared myself for a night in the woods alone. I wasn’t too bothered about it, really. Trey was the one who didn’t want me in the woods at night alone, but I found it very peaceful. (At first, anyway…)

Here's the shelter where I stayed. I had it all to myself.

Oak Mountain shelter

And here’s my tent, all set up and cozy.

My little home for four days

I enjoyed reading the log book in the shelter and decided I wanted to add my own post. I noticed all of the other hikers were using trail names. I didn’t have a trail name, so I spent way too long trying to decide how to end my post. I finally signed it as “Bookworm” because even on a backpacking trip where going as lightweight as possible is key, I couldn’t be without some reading material. And reading is kind of what got me into this in the first place. I read several memoirs of thru-hikes on the Appalachian Trail and other famous trails and decided I wanted to plan my own adventure. So Bookworm seemed appropriate, and also loosely tied to hiking in my case.

Soon after I turned my light off in my tent and tried to go to sleep, I heard something (or several somethings) prowling around the campsite. It was probably something really normal like raccoons, but I was too scared to stick my head out of the tent and investigate. I did make some noise and yell “Go away!” but they didn’t seem bothered by me in the least. It took me a loooong time to fall asleep. It probably didn’t help that I’d recently been watching survivalist shows and one of the last ones I watched involved some bears stalking a guy while he tried to sleep in his tent. He bailed on his expedition the next morning. And someone on the Ouachita Trail Facebook page had posted a photo of a bear he spotted on the trail only a few days earlier. Quite a bit west of where I was camping, but still. The imagination does unkind things when you’re alone in the dark in a tent with something outside.

But morning came, and I was glad to see that my food bag that I had hung in a tree was still untouched. I had made all of the proper preparations to keep myself and my food as safe as possible.

I was pretty groggy at 5 a.m. from only a few hours of sleep (and no coffee! Waah!) so I mixed up a caffeinated electrolyte drink that tasted sort of like watermelon kool-aid. I had decided before my trip not to bring my camp stove. I didn’t want to deal with the extra weight of the stove and the gas, and I figured I’d be too tired most days to bother cooking anyway. So all of my food was shelf stable: trail mix, beef jerky, dried fruit, tuna packets, pita bread, etc. I decided to start a fire and enjoy breakfast while watching the sun rise. It took me an embarrassingly long time to start a fire (I was glad there was no one there to watch me), but I did finally get it a-blazing. See? Proof! I CAN start a fire.

Why is it so hard to get a dang fire going?

Soon after packing up and leaving the shelter, I was able to connect with the other hikers. We made introductions and since we were all nearly out of water, I showed them a nearby creek I had spotted the day before and we all refilled. I have a filter bottle that I drank out of the whole time, but I also had a couple extra bottles on hand that I would use to collect creek water and then refill my filter bottle from those. That system seemed to work really well (except for the 2nd morning when I had a brief brain failure and drank out of the wrong bottle. I got a good, long swig of creek water before I realized I was drinking from my unfiltered bottle. Thankfully I always try to gather clear, flowing water, so the risk is actually pretty small. But still, it’s a risk I’d rather not take. Giardiasis doesn’t sound fun. But here I am a couple days later with no ill effects, so all’s well that ends well.)

It was pretty clear to me right off the bat that the other hikers were probably going to go at a much slower pace than what I’m comfortable with, so I told them I’d connect with them again soon and forged ahead. Day 2 was full of more beautiful views, and I got my first glimpse of Forked Mountain in the distance.

Forked Mountain. Looking mountainous and forky.

I stopped for lunch at Green Thumb Spring, which is a natural spring that feeds into a pond. And then the upward climb began. There were several steep switchbacks for over a mile. Here’s where I was thankful for the training I had done ahead of time. Once I made it to the top of the ridge, I had about three miles left to get to our designated stopping point. My feet were starting to hurt, and I was looking forward to soaking them in the creek and enjoying some down time to write, take pictures, and read a little before dinner. Right around the time I got to the end point, I started getting texts from the others that Cheryl was having a lot of trouble with dizzy spells and trouble breathing. They weren’t sure she could make it any farther. I wouldn’t have minded too much if we’d had to camp a little farther back than planned, but I knew there was no water between them and the creek, and we would all need to refill that night. So I offered to leave my pack at the creek and come back to help carry Cheryl’s pack the rest of the way. I set my pack down and hiked back almost two miles to the others and took Cheryl’s pack. When we were close to the creek, I pointed out what I thought could be a good campsite. It was fairly level and had a couple of fallen logs we could sit on. (I love staying near the shelters so that I have access to picnic tables and fire rings and a covered space to leave my gear, but there are no shelters in the Flatside Wilderness, so we had to make do.) Mark and I left Paula and Cheryl at the campsite and hiked to the creek to retrieve my pack (I was really thankful no wild animals had torn into it while I was gone), and we collected and filtered water for everyone. We finally made it back to camp at about 7 PM and I was too exhausted to even bother eating much. My Fitbit said I had gotten nearly 40,000 steps and about 16 miles (on very hilly terrain). I set up my tent and collapsed into bed with some reading material. Just as I was about the drift off to sleep, I heard coyotes howling. And they sounded pretty close. They didn’t bother us, though.

On day three, Cheryl and Paula both made arrangements to be picked up from a Ouachita Trail shuttle service at a nearby dirt road crossing. I was sad for them that the trip hadn’t turned out to be what they would have hoped for, but I think they made the right decision to get off the trail. I knew day three was going to be our toughest day yet.

Mark was still committed to finishing the hike, so he and I set off early in the morning to try to beat the heat we knew was coming. Soon after we started, we came across this gorgeous waterfall.

Pretty!

There was an amazing campsite just across the creek with a view of the falls. If I ever hike through this area again, I’m camping here.

Pretty soon we came to Crystal Prong, a major water crossing. The water was deep and flowing at a pretty good rate. I was a little nervous about this one and thankful that I wasn’t alone. Here’s a view upstream and downstream:

Upstream
Downstream

Thankfully, we both crossed without any catastrophes. I was soaked up to my thighs (and that was about the shallowest we could find). And then our Friday climb began. We started out at creek level and would have to gain about 1,000 feet in elevation to get to the top of Flatside Pinnacle. That wouldn’t be too terrible of a challenge if we didn’t have our massively heavy backpacks weighing on us every painful step of the way. We took a few breaks to catch our breath and chat about our families and jobs, and I got to know a little more about Paula and Mark. It was funny to me that this backpacking trip had really been her idea, and Mark wasn’t too enthusiastic in the beginning. But now that he was out on the trail, he was in awe of Arkansas’s beauty.

The beauty really hit a high point when we finally made it to the top of Flatside Pinnacle and were able to look down on the wilderness we had just hiked through over the last couple of days.

We hiked through that!

From there it was just a little over three miles to the next trail shelter, and I was eager to get there because Trey and the kids were hiking in from a nearby access road to spend one night with me on the trail. I couldn’t wait to see them and tell them all about my journey so far. They timed their arrival really well and got to the shelter only about five minutes after Mark and I arrived. We set up tents, took a trip to the creek to fill water bottles, and even spotted a tiny baby deer! We had dinner together and started a fire even though it was a little warm for a fire.

Family is here! And they brought a hammock!
My little backpackers!

The next morning I took time to doctor my feet—I had some painful blisters on my heel and toes. The one on my heel in particular was quite large. I drained it a bit to relieve some of the pressure then applied moleskin, a big band-aid, and three layers of duct tape to cushion it. That seemed to do the trick. It was mildly uncomfortable, but not painful. We all hiked out together and I was able to drop off my heavy backpack in our car so I wouldn’t have to carry it for the final five miles. Brielle came with me and Mark for this last leg of the hike, and without having to carry a heavy backpack, I felt like we were flying down the trail! We still had a really steep section to get up, but it felt so good to only have a small water pack. I didn’t mind the elevation at all. We made great time and met Trey, Cheryl, and Paula at our ending point at 10:30 a.m. and had a little celebration. My hike was over.

I’ve had some friends and family members wonder about certain aspects of backpacking, so I’ll provide a few extra details.

What about hygiene? Well, the short answer is that I got really gross. I did try to maintain some level of cleanliness. I washed up in my tent every night with wet wipes. I used deodorant and brushed my teeth. I used hand sanitizer and biodegradable soap. But there’s just no getting around the fact that I had to go four days without a shower.

What about going to the bathroom? This was my least favorite part of backpacking. When you gotta go, you find a secluded spot off the trail and you go. I carried toilet paper and ziplock bags to stash my trash. I have a new appreciation for indoor plumbing.

What about wild animals? I almost stepped on snakes twice. And if you’re read this whole post, you know there was something outside my tent on night one. But for the most part, I didn’t worry about animals. I think it’s good to be cautious and aware. It’s good to hang your food bag every night. But animals generally don’t want to come near us any more than we want to come near them.

What if something bad happens in the middle of nowhere? I took as many precautions as I possibly could. I trained well for this trip so that I would be in shape to handle the physical aspect of it. I carried a first-aid kit. I carried pepper spray. I watched videos on wilderness first aid. I had my cell phone and a portable charger and I was constantly checking it to be aware of what spots along the trail had signal in case I needed to call for help at any point. I connected with other hikers and made sure they and my husband knew approximately where I was at all times. I can’t completely remove the risks associated with backpacking, but I can do a lot to make it as safe as possible. And I was comfortable with the precautions I took.

How far did I hike? As far as the OT goes, we covered a little over 30 miles of the trail. But that doesn't count all of the backtracking, trips to creeks for water fill-ups, explorations off the trail, etc. Fitbit says I did about 50 miles of walking total.

Would I do it again? Yes! But not any time too soon. Ouch.

It was quite an adventure. I’m glad I did it, and I’m glad to be safely home (and clean). Thanks for reading!

--Bookworm

Monday, February 8, 2021

Half marathon musings

 

I got the crazy idea about a year ago that in 2021 I wanted to run my first half marathon. With Trey working from home during the pandemic, 2020 ended up being the perfect year to train—for the first time ever, I could leave the kids at home during the day while I went out running. When I found out about a month ago that the March 2021 race date had been postponed (not surprising, but disappointing), I decided I couldn’t let all that training go to waste. So I decided to run my own personal half marathon.

On race day, I woke up feeling jittery, wondering if I was really ready. I had only gone ten miles in my training (and ten miles was plenty tough). I thought about the leg pain I’d experienced multiple times throughout my training; I thought about my bad knee and wondered how it would hold up (I tore my ACL years ago and never had it repaired); I thought about the weather and how cold it was and how the chance of rain would increase with each hour that passed; then I thought of all the people who knew I was running a half marathon that day (some of whom would be meeting me at the finish line), and I knew that I would crawl my way to the end if I had to. (Thankfully, that wasn’t necessary.)

Trey and I had mapped out a 13.1 mile out-and-back route ahead of time and identified several waypoints where he and the kids would meet me to offer water or snacks, cheer me along, and scrape me off the trail if needed. They dropped me off at Cook’s Landing by the Arkansas River at 9 AM and I began my run.

A race day is usually full of crowds of people, live music, and fellow runners who keep you motivated (especially if you’re a wee bit competitive like me and get a kick out of passing people). I had resigned myself to doing without any of that. But about two miles in, I was in a for a big surprise: it turns out the River Trail 15k was happening at the same time and in the same place as I had planned my half marathon. For awhile we were running on parallel roads, and then they merged onto the river trail with me, so I found myself surrounded by excited runners and race organizers who were ringing cowbells and offering me Gatorade. I felt a little awkward, but what could I do? I hadn’t purposefully inserted myself into their race (for free), but I wasn’t going to change my route either considering how carefully I had mapped it all out. So I just went along for the ride and enjoyed the race day atmosphere. Every time I passed a group of women, they would clap and say something like “Good job! You go, girl!” I let the excitement carry me along with them for about 4 or 5 miles, and then they reached a point where they were all turning around to head back. I’m sure a few of them were probably a little concerned for me when I took off toward downtown instead of following the arrows.

Although I had enjoyed the motivation of running with the group, I was also looking forward to quiet and solitude again. The river trail is pretty, and I’ve become really familiar with it from running there nearly every weekend. I measured my progress by landmarks (there’s the marina, there’s the tree that was struck by lightning, there’s the ballpark, there’s the creepy underpass where I always imagine a serial killer is lurking in the shadows, almost to the submarine now.) Trey and the kids met me at my halfway point and congratulated me before I turned around and prepared myself to do it all in reverse.

Around mile 7 or 8 I started feeling a little tired. I decided I would grab a few bites of banana from Trey at the next meet-up spot. Until then, I tried to find ways to keep myself motivated. I had reviewed a list of Bible verses for runners that morning and was trying to meditate on some of them. My brain was feely a little mushy and juvenile, apparently, because what kept popping into my head instead was Dory from Finding Nemo singing “Just keep swimming, swimming, swimming.”

At mile 10 I met up with Trey and the kids and invited Brielle to run a mile with me. She happily agreed and was so excited that she was doing flying leaps through the air beside me. I was wishing I had some of her energy right about then! She asked, “Mom, why did you want to do this?” My first thought was, “I don’t know! Why AM I doing this?” But I tried to explain it to her. “Well, I guess I just wanted to do something hard that would challenge me, something that not very many people ever try doing.” I guess she was satisfied with that answer because she went back to leaping through the air and I went back to just surviving, barely.

I dropped her off with Trey again at mile 11 and was excited to see a small cheer team consisting of my sister, two nieces, and a friend waiting alongside the path there to give me a boost of encouragement for the final leg of my journey.

The last two miles were the hardest. I was alone, and things were starting to hurt. But I knew I was almost done, so I just kept picturing the finish line moment. When I was about .4 of a mile away, I could see the end point, just barely. I was tracking my mileage on my phone, so when I got close I kept my phone in my hand so I would know exactly when I had hit a half marathon. To my annoyance, I hit 13.1 miles when I was still a little over a tenth of a mile away from my finish line crew. I was tired and really ready to stop running, but it would be anti-climactic to just walk up to everyone. So I actually ended up covering about 13.25 miles total for the sake of a grand finale, but who’s counting? (Answer: Me. I was counting. Every single blasted step).

I was greeted at the imaginary finish line with cheers and medals and congratulations. If I had planned ahead better, I would have thought of something funny or interesting or meaningful to say at the end, but I think the best I could manage was gems such as “I’m tired” and “that was a long way.” I was glad it was over, but I was also glad I had done it. I walked stiffly to the car and enjoyed the sheer bliss of just sitting. After some celebratory tacos, I stationed myself on the couch for the rest of the day (which probably wasn’t the best idea… once I stopped moving, I experienced major soreness. It wasn’t quite as bad as the soreness I had after being hit by an 18-wheeler, but it was a pretty close second. Not kidding.)

So, would I do it all again? Well, I’ll probably have to! The half marathon I was supposed to run in March got pushed to November. I spent close to $100 on the registration fees, and there are no refunds. So I don’t think my cheapskate nature is going to let me get out of it. But this time I’ll be running it as an experienced half marathoner. I know how far it is. I know how bad it hurts. And I know I can do it.

Thursday, December 31, 2020

2020: A run-derful year

2020 brought lots of weirdness and changes in routine, but they weren’t all bad. This year I’ve gotten a lot more serious about running. Over the years I’ve done the occasional 5k or 10k, training minimally and spending more effort and thought on my finish-line selfie than my pace or rank. But this year, with so many of our usual activities cancelled, I figured I’d have extra time for training and finally signed up for my first ever half marathon.

The thing about a half marathon is that I can’t just blow off the training and hope for the best like I could with a shorter race. Knowing that I have a deadline looming has kept me consistent about getting out and running regularly. And I don’t want to simply survive the half marathon, limping painfully across the finish line. I want to finish well—uninjured and with a smile (because that post-race victory selfie is still going to happen, believe me).

And it’s been fun to see the progression—I went from barely being able to run a mile several months ago (and certainly not without some rather dramatic lung wheezing) to being able to handle long weekend jogs of 6 or 8 miles (and in a couple more weeks, I’ll attempt my first 10-miler).

I wish I could say that I’m seeing progress in the getting-skinnier department, but alas. The one downside of running is that it makes me ravenously hungry. Within about an hour of two of returning home from a long run, I tend to descend on the kitchen with the zeal of a teenage boy. So it pretty much evens out.

I recently told one of my friends that I have kind of a love/hate relationship with running, but I’ve discovered that it gets better the more I do it. The first few times a newbie like me goes running, it feels awful. Everything hurts; it’s hard to breathe. You wonder why anyone would find it enjoyable. But when you get to the point where you can run a considerable distance with nothing hurting and without gasping for air, it actually feels pretty good.

In spite of all of this, I still don’t really think of myself as a runner. When I’m running on the river trail, I see so many athletes training for their long-distance runs, and they’re clearly out of my league. It can be easy to get discouraged or feel like an imposter. They’re the real runners… I’m just a 30-something mom of two putting one slow foot in front of the other. I doubt my running form is any good. I’m not really clear on what “overpronation” means, but I probably do it. My legs are in a constant state of soreness. And I still have plenty of days when I have to pry my lazy self off the cozy couch when I would rather watch TV and eat cookies.

But here I am, only about two months away from the big race day. I’m getting stronger and building endurance. I’m spending lots of time outdoors and getting plenty of vitamin D and fresh air. I’m enjoying the beauty of running alongside local lakes and rivers. I may not be a “real” runner, but I’m reaping the same benefits.

So thank you, 2020, for the gift of time. I’m pretty sure I would have given up by now if I’d had the option of doing other things (like going on that cruise… still haven’t quite forgiven you for taking that away from me). Here’s to 2021, the year I complete my first half marathon. And maybe—just maybe—it won’t be my last.

 


 

 

 

Tuesday, September 15, 2020

Puppy Love

Recently Trey and I decided that our lives just aren’t quite chaotic enough, so we got a puppy! Actually, we’re loving the extra chaos (for the most part) as we adjust to life with our little border collie, Rooster. We’ve had him for a little over two weeks now, and we’re still getting to know him and his little quirks–like the way he bolts across the room and hurls himself into my lap any time I’m on the floor. It’s super cute right now while he’s about 7 pounds, but I’m worried that if he keeps it up much longer, he’s going to end up giving me a nosebleed.

So, yeah, we have some training to do. But that’s part of the reason we picked a border collie–they’re supposed to be very intelligent and trainable with LOTS of energy. Since Perrin gives me a grumpy-tween face any time I mention the possibility of team sports to him, I figured he at least needs a dog who will get him out and about each day.

One thing I’ve learned though: our family is not so great with communication. There are mornings I’ve gotten up and fed Rooster breakfast, only to find Trey feeding him breakfast again about an hour later. Then one of the kids will wake up and see Rooster’s sad puppy eyes looking up imploringly, and they’ll think “Poor little guy must be so hungry!” So the end result is that our puppy is eating like a hobbit: breakfast, second breakfast, elevenses, lunch, dinner, supper… you get the idea. I really don’t want a 1200-pound border collie, so I’m going to have to figure out a system and get everyone on board.

And then there’s the cat. She spent the first couple of days growling and hissing at him. Poor Rooster had probably never met another living creature that didn’t love him! He kept wanting to play with her, and she just wasn’t having any of his nonsense. But the last week or so has been better. She even rubbed up against him one day! I think his whole little body was quivering with excitement.

And of course we’re working on potty training, leash training, and teaching him that we are not his personal chew toys. All part of the fun of having a new pup. But even though we have some “ruff” moments now and then (ha ha), he really is a sweet, smart, lovable little guy.

Just look at the cuteness!!


 

Thursday, June 25, 2020

Sadness and Gratitude


It’s been a little over two weeks since our dog Molly passed away. I debated about whether or not to write a blog post about her passing since I tend to keep most of my blogs fairly lighthearted and fun. There’s nothing fun about a beloved pet dying. But I think there are some things about it that are good to reflect on.

The kids are doing okay. I was especially worried for Perrin in the days after Molly’s death. He didn’t feel like doing anything—not even eating or watching TV (behavior completely unheard of for him). He was probably the one who was closest to Molly. He took her for walks regularly, played with her on the floor more than anyone, gave her baths and brushed her teeth. A few weeks before Molly’s death, I let Perrin and Brielle have a sleepover with her on Perrin’s bedroom floor. I’m thankful for special memories they all have together and that she still had lots of energy right up until her last weekend. And now that a little time has passed, I’m seeing improvement in them. I’m proud and thankful for how my kids are walking courageously through their first brush with grief.

A few hours before Molly’s death, I could tell that she just wasn’t herself. I sat with her in the laundry room for a bit, stroking her head and telling her she was a good girl. I prayed for her, asking God to not allow her to suffer. The kids spent some extra time with her too, but when she died, I was the one alone with her, watching it happen. I’m thankful the kids didn’t have to see that. I’m thankful Molly didn’t have to suffer long.

We held a funeral for her that evening in the woods behind my parents’ house. The kids wrote letters to her and put them in her grave. We read from Psalm 50: “Every animal of the forest is mine, / and the cattle on a thousand hills. / I know every bird in the mountains, / and the insects in the field are mine.” We buried her and decorated her grave with flowers and a cross. I’m thankful we were able to honor her life and the 13.5 years that she was part of our family.

I’m thankful her life was long. I’m thankful she was always so kind and patient with the kids. I’m thankful she gave us lots of fun memories (I’m even able to laugh now about the time she ate all the Christmas presents a couple weeks before Christmas). I’m thankful we have lots of pictures of her. I’m thankful that God will use times like this in my kids’ lives to make them more compassionate and empathetic for those who are grieving.

There’s a lot of sadness, but there’s so much to be thankful for too. Thank you, God, for bringing Molly into our lives so many years ago. And thank you, Molly. We love you and miss you.