Autumn Backpacking on the Gerard Hiking Trail
It was still dark and pouring rain as we loaded four packs into the trunk of the Outback -- nothing could dampen the mood as we headed north towards the trail.
There is something different to be found each time you enter the forest. Places certainly hold memories, but with the changing seasons and a new cycle of leaves -- now beginning to drop from the trees, nothing is really the same. For this, I was thankful on a recent weekend trip to Oil Creek State Park -- where my only other visit had been biking with an ex; old stomping grounds near his hunting camp. On this day, with a car full of girl friends met through the weekly trail run club at 3 Rivers Outdoor Company, I was relieved by the feeling that this experience was something brand new -- rather than revisiting a place I needed to go back and reclaim as my own.
There was caffeine to start the day, pre-sunrise and mostly in the form of pumpkin spice at a Starbucks stop that was somehow very necessary -- although none of us are regular customers. Little luxuries become important when the immediate availability of modern amenities is threatened. Chatter in the car lightened the rainy two hour drive to the trailhead. Drake Well in Titusville, Pennsylvania is home to the first oil well, which kickstarted the oil boom in the US. It seemed that we arrived at just the same moment as everyone else as the parking lot filled with a hiking meetup group on a chilly, drizzly grey morning.
It’s fall in the Pennsylvania woods, and that means hunting season. We got ready to hit the trail, throwing on splashes of blaze orange in the form of hats, vests or pack covers for visibility and safety. We look at the map for the Gerard Hiking Trail - a 36-mile trail loop that we will be completing approximately two-thirds of this weekend. The original plan was to hike ten or so miles to our camp for the night, but at the last minute, Ellie suggested switching our plan to put more miles in on day one. We all agreed.
So Rosalie, Ellie, Lindsay and Sarah walked toward Oil Creek at the edge of the parking lot and through the metal gateway to the trail. Everything was soggy and wet all around, the air crisp and damp and the trail laden with mud -- some patches impossible to avoid. We hiked single file on the narrow trail, taking turns at the front and back of the pack, stopping to sign the trail log inside a white mailbox at the end of a wooden bridge.
The trail climbed. We climbed. Up and into the forest. Rosalie, an illustrator, our naturalist guide to the tiny wonders we saw along the trail, naming types of mushrooms and fungus, moss, plants, and the incredible red eft -- as blaze orange as we were. As chilly as it felt as we started walking, we were already delayering to t-shirts and light tops as we reached the first powerline.
Here, we saw the first remnants of litter left over from the previous weekend’s Oil Creek 100 Trail Runs -- a trio of ultramarathons on the Gerard Trail. It was unfortunate that on an otherwise clean trail, the only litter we encountered was from an event, and I wondered how this could be avoided in the future.
The forest was beautiful, more green than typical for this time of year. We meandered past early mile marker signs and delighted at the experience of dedicating ourselves to the trail for the weekend. Plentiful stream crossings on wooden bridges were landmarks along our way and made me wish there was a need to use my Sawyer Mini to filter water. Once you have a reliable and easy water filter, it becomes an innate desire to drink from any good water source.
We all laughed at the size and weight of our packs. Mine weighed in at around 32 pounds (with water). The truth is, you don’t really save much weight on a one night trip versus a longer one because the gear needs are basically the same. I was relieved that after months of not regularly training with a weighted pack (as I try to rehab a nagging hip injury), that carrying my pack still felt pretty natural.
We passed only one other couple backpacking along the trail, hiking from the Wolfkiel Shelters and on their way to Cow Run, like us. These two campgrounds with Adirondack style wooden lean to shelters with built in stone fireplaces, and bathrooms, trash cans, bear boxes and potable water within the campground make it a great trail for beginner backpackers on a 3 day, 2 night route.
The trail was moderately challenging. Not very technical other than muddy conditions, some hill climbs and elevation gains throughout the day. Early afternoon we stopped at Wolfkiel shelters for lunch and to gauge what to expect for this evening’s campground, and assess our pace so far. We’d been making about two miles an hour so far and should try to kick it up just a notch to make it to camp and set up before sunset.
Meals on the trail are a great motivator. A chance to relax, refuel and boost morale before the next segment. As we hiked on, the trail took us down deep into the woods and along a stream. Throughout the hike, we cross between stands or stretches of pines and deciduous forest. I love the juxtaposition -- dark and light, shrouded and open. The feel of walking changes, too, from mud and dry or colorful fallen leaves to a light tan carpet of soft pine needles. The leafy deciduous forests feel familiar, like home, while the thick dark pines carry an air of enchantment, wanderlust and remind me impossibly of the Pacific Northwest -- a place that I love.
We tackled hills and switchbacks with the occasional glimpse, overlooking Oil Creek, always marked with a bench to stop and rest, perhaps. We booked it on the downhills and caught up with time, eventually making it to the paved bike trail at a long bridge across the creek. Here, it rained, a steady drizzle as we stopped to layer on raincoats and pack covers. We snacked on graham crackers as the rain fell, crossing railroad tracks and climbing steep stairs and a punishing hill as the rain tapered off and, again, we delayered.
The mileage countdown was on at this point in the afternoon, and as fatigue set in we powered on with the hope of camp in the distance. Early evening along the powerlines we kicked up a small herd of deer and heard a few distant shots on the final day of muzzleloader season. As a hunter, it’s an interesting time to be in the forest -- a cross between worlds and roles. Today, I am a hiker -- undecided whether or not I will hunt this year.
We crossed the trail bridge at Cow Run, just a few steps to go before we arrived at our tentsite -- a small field where another backpacker had claimed the only spot where it was possible to tuck your tent under cover of trees. We set up in the field - less ideal, especially with rain on the way. Rosalie and I made quick work of assembling vibrant green tents, inflating sleeping pads and rolling out sleeping bags. Home Sweet Home. Nearby, Ellie and Lindsay chatted with the other camper, a guy from Toledo named Nick, as they worked on starting the fire. I was glad not to be on fire duty tonight, a rarity for someone else to take charge of urging damp logs to ignite.
Dinner was Good to Go Chicken Phō -- a meal I’ve honestly been waiting to try all summer long, ever since the new variety of dehydrated comfort noodles arrived in the shop. Tonight’s “take out” feast did not let me down. Possibly better than the Pad Thai I enjoyed on day two of the Presidential Traverse, I really feel guilty for eating these foods around friends who have made slightly more vanilla meal choices. I’m sitting there interjecting exclamations about how great my dinner is while everyone else eats rice or mac ‘n cheese without comment.
The rain started up just as our fire began to take and we hurried to clear the picnic table and move our dinners to the woodshed on the other side of the field. Perched among the logs, we made a dry refuge, laughing and joking about how it is always the misadventures that turn into memories. We finished dinners and boiled water for tea, we broke out the malt Fireball singles that Lindsay had picked up for everyone, and hung her camping strand of blue and purple twinkle lights among the wood. Every few minutes campers from the shelters would pop by to smuggle armfuls and armfuls of wood -- cut by volunteers, back to their party camps.
It was a bit frustrating, being in a shared campground rather than backpackers only. Here, it seemed as though most of the shelter campers had parked nearby and walked in toting plush excesses of gear while we had hiked all day and were huddled in a wood shed. We eventually learned that there was an open shelter tucked into the hillside, and we gathered a few things and finished the night with s’mores over a warm fire.
Carrying a two person tent as a single backpacker might sound foolish to some lightweight purists, but on nights like this, I love the luxury of being able to pull all my gear in and keep it safe, sorted and dry. I dropped my bag of food off in the bear box on my way back to the campground and laughed at Rosalie and Ellie as they prepared to carry their fully assembled & rain wet tent down to the shelter. It seemed to work out better than I imagined it would, but I was happy to cuddle up and listen to the soft patter of rain on the tent through the night. I love sleeping in a tent in the rain -- which is good since I’ve seen rain on every camping trip this year.
The night was warm and cozy with my Nemo Disco 30 degree bag and the first time trying out the Exped sleeping pad I’d received at The Big Gear Show in Park City. In the morning, it was nice to wake up to a text from Ellie, saying come on down to the warm blazing fire and hazelnut coffee pour overs at the shelter. The rain miraculously tapered off as I started to move. There was a lot to pack in dry bags, reassembling my pack, getting dressed, and finally disassembling the rain covered tent before I could make my way down for breakfast. Across the field, Lindsay is a step or two behind me, repeating the same process. Rain makes everything more complicated while backpacking, and what to do on a multi-day trek remains a bit of a mystery. The main goal is obvious: keep the dry stuff dry. But how to dry out the wet?
Whether you’re backpacking or car camping, there is nothing like a hot breakfast at camp. Ellie’s GSI Outdoors Ultralight Java Drip pour over filter was a small miracle made greater with good coffee sipped by the fire. The shelter sat below the others on the edge of a steep hill, and the autumn morning fog held heavy and dramatic in the trees. The camp stoves were working hard at boiling water for oatmeal and I opened a foil pack of PopTarts as a shareable breakfast pastry.
We had 10 or so miles to go today, and it was nice to have the bigger day behind us (thanks, Ellie!), and to not feel rushed. We took our time, enjoying breakfast and the fire, filling our bottles and water bladders at the campground tank, and stretching out only slightly sore muscles. I smoothed a patch of black duct tape on my heel where I had noticed some rubbing, before lacing up my Danner boots that had mostly dried by the fire.
Day two of backpacking with a group is where everything falls into place. On day one you are learning group pace and getting your trail legs, on day two you just go. The trail out of the campground followed the ridge we had camped on, widening out for a long stretch where we were able to pick up the pace. The pines in the morning fog were eerie and epic. The mud remained the biggest technical challenge, but today we seemed a little more adept at reading a way around or, sometimes, just slogging through it.
The trail was beautiful, passing creeks and waterfalls with the occasional viewpoint. At times, we all hiked in a close group with one stream of conversation or one storyteller. Other times, we split into pairs, spreading out just a bit along the trail. We made only one stop for a snack lunch along the way, sitting along a wet, downed tree in a flat patch of forest. We were all eagerly looking forward to post-hike victory beers and food in Franklin, PA.
I checked my Gaia GPS map as infrequently as possible, preferring to hike without knowing the exact number of miles ahead. The “are we there yet,” phenomenon. Other members of our group liked to check the map when we came to a stop. It was a fun trail to follow along on the map, but my last backpacking experience taught me the dangers of too early anticipating the trail’s end, or discounting the work yet to be done. Instead, I made time predictions...we may be off the trail around 3pm.
Ellie and I walked together a good bit in the latter part of the day. We hike together often and at a similar pace, and had been trying to get a backpacking trip (this trip) together all summer. There was a trail log in a fatigue green military-style ammo can attached to a post in the final mile of trail. This time, we didn’t sign it, but stopped to read a message or two. Someone had written the word “Love” on the end of the can and I think that applies both to my time in the forest and for friends old and new that venture into the woods, sharing experiences and creating memories together.
We passed through the same strip of powerline we’d hit early in yesterday’s hike, looking back across the clear cut strip we could make out the faint brown line of trail. Rosalie remarked at the flora -- unique and specific plants growing here on this treeless hillside that are similar to those at Dolly Sods, in West Virginia. I always love to find teaberry (wintergreen) when I hike, and I smashed a red berry between my fingers to smell the earthy mint white pulp.
We hiked on, avoiding the lag of the final mile by playing a sensory/mindfulness game that Lindsay had suggested. Naming five things we could see, four things we could feel, three (four) things we could hear, two (four) things we could smell, and one (four) things we could taste… which briefly led to the two adventurous sisters in the group licking tree bark and moss! I opted to taste the never-ending plastic tint to my pack’s water bladder. We continued on to an alphabet game as we encountered kids with bicycles and caught our first glimpse of civilization, overlooking a bleak ballfield in Titusville.
Lindsay led a sing-a-long about a bear as we headed downhill, across a wooden bridge, and out through the green metal arch of the Gerard Hiking Trail. All that was left was to cross the dark metal framed bridge into the parking lot where the Outback awaited our return. It started to drizzle as we left the forest picked up to a steady rain just as we were all loaded into the car. Perfect timing.
On the drive to Franklin, we passed the Cross Creek Resort with a sign out front that read, “Welcome Women of the Outdoor!”. “How nice of them to hang a sign for us,” we commented, all in a celebratory mood. A quick stop at Barber’s Orchard for apple cider, and then victory beers and a well-deserved feast at Trails to Ales Brewery to close out a wonderful weekend in the woods.
As I edge toward 400 miles this year (out of my goal of 500 for 2021), I’m glad to have fit in another backpacking trip, especially on a trail in Pennsylvania. Here’s to 23.26 beautiful miles with three amazing Women of the Outdoor -- and many more adventures to come!
Until next time, Live Wildly!