Trailbound

My backpacking trip on the Appalachian Trail is about to begin. Two main goals: that Cassandra has a great time and that I don't get eaten by a bear. Stay tuned for adventures in Virginia's beautiful Shenandoah Valley.

Could it get any hotter?

Spent all day with Red Chief (grandson Ethan), and despite the heat we managed to go to the park twice and take several bike rides. Plenty of water and staying in the shade as much as possible helped. He now has a bike with training wheels, his first road machine after graduating from tricycles. Among many Thomas the Train movies, I kept the Chief entertained with one of our favorite flicks, Jeremiah Johnson. Ethan seems to like the scenes when rookie mountain man Jeremiah gets his campfire dowsed by a fallen clump of snow, and then is unable to catch fish by hand in a cold mountain stream. Great flick, and the mountain scenery is fantastic. Will have Ethan tomorrow and Wednesday before going back to work on Thursday. Will definitely swim much of the day tomorrow, I hope.

Lunch at the Walk-up Window

Fast Times at Champaign High

Tomfoolery and my personal counselor Floyd (above) welcome John of Indianapolis to the swarms of adventure readers. A long-time close friend, John was partly responsible for much of my delinquency and glee in high school because he was the one we always chose to try to pass as a 21-year-old to buy booze at the liquor store. He had an uncanny knack for getting the stuff too. Often wondered if he threatened the store clerk with physical violence if the clerk did not sell him the booze. John was a wrestler in high school and a darn good one. Tasty waves of orange juice and vodka was my drink of choice.

Annie and the Pirate

With my Appalachian Trail (AT) trip less than two weeks away, I'm trying to wrap up things that need to be done for the journey. One of the frequent websites I consult is http://www.whiteblaze.net. It's fun to look at the photo galleries on this site, and I've posted two photos of AT hikers, Pirate and Annie the Wonder Dog. Trail nicknames are either chosen by the hikers or given to them by other hikers. And there's Sgt. Rock, of Sgt. Rock's Hiking Headquarters, who boasts on his website “Pay attention, you dirt bag sissies. I’m here to make you a REAL HIKER!” A whole subculture here.

Eye of the Storm

Hurricane Marla abruptly changed direction and is headed north to the downtown area. Thus, the manse on Maplecrest will not be changed. (Marla is one of my buffalo trail running buddies to whom I offered elite space in my home because she lacked roommates for renting a place; problem solved when two friends agreed to live with her. Marla will no doubt beat on me for kidding her about this.)

Marla's cats Dexter and Spot would have been a shock to my extremely shy cat Maddie. Took Maddie to the vet a few days ago to treat her ulcerous lip, and feared the worst because she hasn't been to the vet for many years. She tured out to be the perfect patient because she was so scared that she lay on the examining table like a rag doll in complete surrender. She barely flinched when she got a shot of steroids.

Ran 10.5 miles yesterday at Kickapoo with the herd, then it was over to the Little Nugget near Danville for food and 75-cent drafts. 75-cent drafts on a Sunday morning with the buffaloes after a trail run. Life is good.

Hot? Wallow!

What does a proper buffalo do when it's steaming hot outside? Wallow, baby! Yeah!

Just find a spot of dirt outside, get down and roll around. You get one dirty bison but one that's cooled down and insect free.

Here's what it means when a buffalo gets down and dirty, according to Dale Lott in American Bison: A Natural History:
"Wallows are shallow pits where bison have torn away the soil with their horns and where the subsoil, dried by the sun and stirred by hooves and horns, turns to a flourlike dust. Bison wallow in the summer, especially during the middle of the day. Wallowing puts soil into and onto their coat. They can work so much nice, dry, powdery soil into their coat that as they walk away from the wallow it cascades down, jarred loose by each step. I have always thought bison were wallowing to make their hair a lousy place for lice and other parasites. I still think that's likely, but wallowing may also lower their heat load."

Gnarly Randomness

Caught "Fast Times at Ridgemont High" a few days ago on the tube. Have probably seen it a dozen times. Best parts of the movie for me are any scene involving Sean Penn as the stoned surfer Jeff Spicoli (photo). Always fun.

Sean Penn and a host of other stars are also in the movie "Thin Red Line," which is adapted from a novel about World War II and the battle for Guadalcanal in the Pacific. This movie is underappreciated, and has been both highly praised and torn to pieces by critics. I have the DVD and never tire of watching this flick. The cinematography and music alone are well worth the view.

Katie Couric coming to the CBS Evening News - a good reason to abandon TV news altogether. So much silly hype. Same with local news - "Your News Leader", "Storm Tracker Weather", blah blah blah. National Public Radio and WILL AM580 radio can't be beat if you are tired of the silly chat and other crap that accompanies half-hour stretched out newscasts that could be condensed to 15 minutes of real news.

Broiled Buffalo on the Trail

Four trail runs this week, but last evening's run on the Buffalo Trace Trail at Mahomet was a sweat-soaked affair in the heat and humidity. Still, it was much fun with the herd, but it left me dragging.

Also had an early morning run today at Allerton with Cassandra. Mud, pools of water and dive-bombing horseflies on the trail. The flies were quite annoying, but I always enjoy trail running in mud and water.

Rain, Lightning and the Big Burrito

Sometimes it's not easy being a buffalo. Last night, for instance - the Burrito Loco challenge. I had never had the huge burrito at El Toro, and it was quite good. Fellow buffaloes Devil Dawg, Packy, Cousin Don, Mohawk and I all hammered down the Mexican monsters with a side order of rice, and I washed it down with two beers. I was scorned for not licking my plate as the others had done, having left a few wisps of sour creme on the plate. Sheesh.

Before the burrito binge we ran at Meadowbrook Park in the heat and humidity, so now after being properly fueled we drove out to the Buffalo Trace Trail in Mahomet for the third part of the challenge - a five-mile trail run with the burrito still a bulge to be reckoned with. Scarface, who was fueled only by rice and beans, joined us as thunder and lightning crashed the trail and lit up the darkness. The first mile was a bit hairy, with Devil Dawg cowering like a frightened puppy at the crack of far-off lightning strikes (this was not the fearless dawg who snarfed down black beans after inhaling the big burrito).

After a while rain started, and if sweat hadn't made us wet enough we were now thoroughly soaked. All was well until . . . BUFFALO DOWN! With less than a mile to go in the darkness a small stream and its slippery banks tripped up Scarface, Mohawk and Cousin Don and into the drink they went. Only a temporary stoppage, though, and we all finished the five-mile run with no "launching" of burritos, as others of the herd thought might happen. Challenge met!

Just another chapter in the adventures of the herd. More coming Thursday night as the herd grazes in Buffalo Nancy's yard.

Moon Run

Last night's full moon run at the Buffalo Trace Trail in Mahomet was the 76th consecutive one for the herd of Buffaloes Warriors. I warmed up for the run with an outer loop run of 2.7 miles, then did the 5-mile main run. The trail is unusually dry, so the footing was good and fast. Probably ran my fastest moon run ever, but the event is low key and speed is not a big deal. The faster I went, the footing got more treacherous, and lights are not allowed during the run. Very disappointed in the turnout of lightning bugs, which should have been prominent on the trail this time of year but were lacking in numbers. At a moon run last summer the bugs lit up wooded areas like Christmas trees. What a sight.

There will be another moon run tonight, a special called the Burrito Loco Challenge: run about 4 miles at Meadowbrook Park with the Second Wind Running Club, then off to El Toro to eat a burrito loco, then drive to Mahomet to run the 5-mile trail again. As the huge burrito will be washed down with beer, the run at Mahomet could be a real challenge. Sometimes ya just gotta be goofy. It's a buffalo thing.

Buffalo Booze and the Hurricane

A co-worker tipped me off last week about Buffalo Trace bourbon being available locally at Friar Tuck's. This usually hard-to-get item, which bears the name of our fabled trail in Mahomet and of the race there, is finally here, so I went out immediately and bought a bottle. Pricey stuff but good I guess because it has won major awards. I'm not much of a bourbon drinker, but maybe I can use it to make a shot of buffalo sweat, which calls for 3/4 ounce of bourbon in a shot glass and adding 1/4 ounce tabasco sauce. Some other buffalo drinks that do not use bourbon: buffalo milk and white buffalo.

The weekend was busy with preparations for Hurricane Marla, which is currently northeast of me and slowly but surely moving southwesterly toward my neighborhood. Marla and tropical storms Dexter and Spot are all building in intensity. Stay tuned.

In the Eye of a Buffalo: Mission in the Moonlight

Earlier in the day: U.S. astronaut Jeff Williams (left) and the Russian commander of the International Space Station celebrate the docking of the shuttle Explorer with the space station. This happened yesterday before the herd saw the the two spacecraft as a far-away streaking speck of light.

So, I’m sitting in the parking lot of the Buffalo Trace Trail at Mahomet last night with fellow buffaloes Scarface, Devil Dawg, the Cable Guy, and Cousin Don. We’re being our usual silly selves after a trail run as we suck in the suds of various breweries when all of a sudden, “Look, up in the sky. It’s a bird. It’s a plane. It’s . . . what the hell is that?” Darting toward the three-quarters full moon in a cloudless sky is a small lighted object. Too fast for an airplane. “Its gonna hit the moon!” barks one overexcited bison. “The moon’s gonna explode!” Uh huh. Calmer minds prevailed. “It’s the space station.” Oooo. The light of the International Space Station and the shuttle Discovery streaked through the heavens and disappeared. Quite a sight.

Or maybe it was just a lightning bug. Just another adventurous night in the life of a buffalo.

Good Times

The long weekend (some highlights):

Saturday night- Buffalo party at Tracy & Laura's. I now deem Tracy the Mojito Momma for making batches of the rum/mint drink that tasted so good.

Sunday afternoon - Mojitos aftermath made swimming in a small lake seem like a swim across the Atlantic.

Monday night - Neighborhood fireworks show with Red Chief (grandson Ethan) and my baby boy Tim. What a sight to see the Ethan with mouth wide open and a slow whispered "wow" as the fireworks boomed.

Tuesday (Fourth of July) - Pulled tags off race numbers of about 380 very sweaty runners as a volunteer for the Freedom Run 5K race. Got more cooties than anyone in Champaign County. Then off to Hooters for Buffalo Jay Pineapple's third annual Fourth of July pretend birthday. Jay needed more sangria before attempting the hula hoop. Later to Buffalo Trace Trail in Mahomet to run with Cassandra and her sister Kelly. Much fun. Beautiful sunset on the trail. Ended a fine day with ice ceam and the satisfaction of a 13-0 White Sox win.

Was I to Sleep with the Fishes?

My buddy and fellow buffalo Bruce Rodgers appeared at my office doorway this morning with a package that was about the same size and shape as the box that held Clemenza's shotgun in "The Godfather." But there was no sudden opening of the box and blazing away. I opened the box to find two hiking poles that were a gift for my Appalachian Trail jaunt in August. I had casually mentioned these to Bruce, and it's just like him to do this sort of thing. The poles will be used to steady me on climbs and descents of the Virginia hills. They can also be used to stab at snakes and to whack Cassandra if she gives me trouble.

The overweight and sweating Clemenza had difficulty in climbing the stairs to carry out the assassination of a mob leader in a hotel elevator. Bruce, who could probably eat more than Clemenza, has managed to stay in shape. To make Bruce an offer he can't refuse, just put a plate of Mexican food in front of him.

Beer Run

While trying to get Field Guide to the Mammals of Illinois to the printer soon for work, I have a busy weekend ahead, with hours of yardwork, cleaning and some rearrangimg of the house, possible backpacking trip to Forest Glen south of Danville, volunteering for the Fourth of July race, triathlon training, major buffalo herd party Saturday night, and powowing with Red Chief.

But it's Holy Thursday and time for the weekly beer scoot with the herd at the Buffalo Trace Trail.

Buffalo Cops

You were going 55 in a 30 zone. I'll have to eat your car.

May I see your license and registration?

Traffic enforcement

Wildlife Protection

Highway Patrol

Speed Trap - Radar

Morning at Mingo

While fellow buffaloes Devil Dawg, Wrong Way, the Cable Guy, and Dr. Ken and his wonder dog Cayenne were running the trail around Lake Mingo Sunday near Danville, I hiked the trail to break in a new backpack and boots for my Appalachian Trail trip in August. With fellow buffalo Srini Muthekepalli (he needs a buffalo nickname), I hiked the 7.1 miles in two hours. Glad I wasn't running Mingo; tough trail.

All went well on the hike until we stopped to see what we thought was a nice view of Lake Mingo at the shoreline. Then we walked farther out and came upon about 20 discarded beer cans floating in the water. Someone had fished or partied there and used the lake as a dumping ground. Just ruins it for everybody. Made my blood boil too see such a scene.

Princess and Red Chief

My daughter Angie and her son Ethan, age 4. I kiddingly call Ethan Red Chief after the short story "The Ransom of Red Chief" by O. Henry. In the story kidnappers of a boy find their captive to be so onery and difficult that they actually pay the father of the boy to take him back. Ethan isn't quite that bad. He is my best little buddy. Whether it's a walk on a steamy day to the park in Wally, his wagon, or watching a favorite movie "The Bear" on a cold winter day with a fire blazing in the living room, Ethan and I always have a good time.

Royal Birthday, Part II

In celebration of my daughter Angie's 28th birthday - Pictures of the Princess

First birthday party, 1979






With little brother Tim

Royal Birthday, Part I

My daughter Angie, aka the Princess, is celebrating her birthday today, so I will be posting a gallery of photos of Her Majesty during the day. Here's a recent photo of the Princess with one of her many pets.

Happy birthday, Princess!

Buffalo Back

If I were into tattoos, I would be jealous.

Allerton Appreciation . . . and Depreciation

After a run this weekend on the 5.5-mile trail at Allerton Park, I strolled over the park grounds and the Allerton House. I usually don't visit Allerton during the summer, but the trail is very lush and green now and in good shape, although there are some downed trees and limbs blocking the path. As for the house and grounds, I had mixed emotions. My buddy Bacchus (photo), god of wine and merriment, is on the side of the Allerton mansion. It's one of my favorite sculptures out there. Of the two bare-breasted sphinxes (half woman, half lion) in front of the mansion, one is in good shape while the other needs some facial work, her face being cracked. The large pond in front of the house, once covered in a nasty coating of pond scum, is now clean and looks good, thanks to a UI student project that cleaned it up. The flowers in the gardens were nice, but many of the rows of bushes needed trimming badly. The Allerton House itself needs work, the brickwork deteriorating and some of the wood trim rotting. And of course the entrance road is rough and the unrepaired bridge that has forced closure of the main road entrance is still not in use.

Much money is obviously needed for repairs and reconditioning at Allerton, and I hope it is forthcoming in some form. For now, the place is still a gem in the Illinois prairie.

Gimme a B, gimme a U, gimme an F . . . .

After a very hot run with the herd at the Buffalo Trace Trail at Mahomet last night, I quickly headed over to Marj and Wes’ house for a swim in their neighborhood lake. I was the first to arrive for their party, and quickly changed to my swimsuit. Waited for a few other buffalo to arrive, then into the water. The thermal layers in the water felt strange, with cold water from about the thighs down and warm water at the top. This was perfect, and with a pre-swim beer I felt good and had one of my better swims. Later on, after a couple more beers, I swam even better. This was good training. Far cry from swimming boring lane laps in a pool, and no kicks in the face from other competitors while doing a mass swim at a triathlon. I was perfectly at ease and didn’t tire the whole time. Maybe a beer or two before a triathlon would do the trick for the swim, but then again I’d probably plow my bike into a tree.

Newlyweds Marj and Wes gave us a party for the ages, and when Marla and the Great Byroni did their Saturday Night Live cheerleading skit (Buffalo Spirit!), we all ached with laughter.

And yes, Arathi, I did make it home. The beer with wine chasers just mellowed me.

Flak for the Flock

White Sox third baseman Joe Crede licks his chops upon catching a cardinal. "Tasted like chicken" said Crede after he devoured the bird. More feasting for Crede and his teammates next week when a big flock of cardinals from St. Louis invades Chicago.

Little Lion on the Trail? I Don't Think So

After reading this, and knowing there are black bears in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia, maybe I should bring my cat Maddie (photo) with me to that section of the Appalachian Trail in August. Hah! Even with two confirmed mouse kills this year on my screened porch, a first for my spoiled feline, Maddie is the most skittish cat on the planet. At the sight of a bear she could outrun a cheetah.

Buffalove: A Wedding in the Herd

Big gathering of the herd is planned for this Thursday evening as we run the Buffalo Trace Trail at Mahomet, then gallop to Marj and Wes' house for a Buffalo wedding party. Marj and Wes were married this past weekend. With plenty of buffalo bait flowing, rowdiness will rule.

On the Trail with Weed Whacker and the Flower Child

Much fun this past Sunday with fellow Buffalo Jeff Riddle and Pokey Allsup (above photos) hiking the Clinton Lake trail. Tested my new backpack loaded with about 22 pounds to see how it would feel. This in preparation for the Appalachian Trail. With the tall grass and plants overgrowing the trail in places, Jeff, in desperation without his lawn mower, used his walking sticks to whack away at the grass, while Pokey planted flowers in her hair and studied plants along the way, all the while keeping up with us quite nicely. I must give credit to the chigger-chewed and tick-attacked Pokey (aka Cassandra) for again hitting the woods after days of walking through forests for her job as a field technician plant guru and insect landing zone (photo is of her on the job in the field).

Hot Dog and Pizza

Just had to post these photos from WhiteBlaze.net, a website of Appalachian Trail enthusiasts. The pizza box illustrates the advantage of being near a town by the trail. I don't know who these hikers are; these are samples of a host of photos posted at the website from all over the Appalachian Trail. I am now registered as Buffalo Tom on this website and may post a few questions and comments about my upcoming AT trip.

Appalachian Dreaming

Scenes in the Shenandoah Valley, Virginia


After a good run last evening on the Buffalo Trace Trail with the herd, followed by a healthy dose of hops and barley and a mean game of wiffeball with Buffalo Nancy's inexhaustible sons, I basked under the light of the moon with several of the herd. So, Tom, what about the Appalachian Trail? Glad you asked. Told them I’m backpacking the entire Shenandoah Valley of Virginia, a little over a hundred miles, in a week this August. That’s the goal, anyway. In my quest for lightweight equipment, I bought a backpack that weighs just two pounds and I've ordered lightweight boots that are supposed to cushion the transfer of a 30-pound load on my back.

For this trip I have also rejoined the Appalachian Trail Conservancy, where I can get great maps of the trail at a discount, and I’ve read at length forum postings at WhiteBlaze.net, a network of Appalachian Trail enthusiasts, and the "Get Out Fast" section of Backpacker magazine’s website. A wealth of great information about backpacking equipment and the trail is at these sites. These forums often start with a question from a novice hiker, and a chorus of experienced hikers then give their thoughts on the subject, all online. The section "Hike the Trail" at the Backpacker site gives descriptions of the entire Appalachian Trail state by state.

Backpacking buddy Cassandra is already booking our next trip on the trail - Maine, considered the best part of the Appalachian Trail by hikers who have trekked the entire trail from Georgia to Maine.

Tatanka Wicasa

Only recently did I learn of the 2004 death of Dale Lott (photo inset), author of American Bison: A Natural History. The book has been called by the Library Journal "the most extensive description of bison natural history ever published." Lott, a professor emeritus of wildlife biology at the University of California, was always quick to answer my e-mail inquiries about buffaloes. He literally grew up with bison, his grandfather having been manager of the National Bison Range in Montana, where his father was also employed. Lott studied the behavior of many animals, but the buffalo was his true calling. In American Bison, Lott mixes the science of buffalo behavior, historical accounts, and an entertaining writing style. One of my favorite passages in the book:

"I'm watching a mature bull standing alone on a dirt road on the National Bison Range. He's the only buffalo around, and I have set up my movie camera, so I'm watching him through the viewfinder, finger on the shutter button. He stands broadside to the road's line of travel, his front feet at the bottom of the cutbank where the road is in a trough cut through a low hill to ease the grade. His right horn slips into the cutbank and cuts a horizontal groove. He glances up to the top of the cutbank, six feet above the road, cuts another groove with his left horn, glances up again, then--without seeming to gather himself--leaps to the top of the cutbank, lands upright on all four feet, and calmly surveys his new view. My finger is still on the shutter button, and I still haven't pressed it. I've just seen 2,ooo pounds of buffalo do a standing high jump of six feet. My breath is quick and a little shaky, but the bull is perfectly calm. After standing for a minute he plods off. No high fives, but his patient, confident amble seemed an understated celebration of its own--'Not bad for a big bull with a skinny butt, eh?' "

With this account of a buffalo high jump, I've included a photo of escaped buffalo in Maryland that made the news last year when they were finally rounded up on a tennis court. Another track and field event--hurdles.

I borrow a term from the Sioux Indians, Tatanka Wicasa, which means buffalo man. A fitting title for Dale Lott.

Lunch

Oh the Shark, Babe, Has Such Teeth, Dear

The Tri-Shark Triathlon at Moraine View State Park near Bloomington Saturday almost ate me up, especially in the swim portion, where I really struggled. Maybe if I had a modicum of training I would have not felt like I was about to be devoured. Once I got out of the water and into the transition area to peel off my wetsuit, the darn thing just didn't want to come off. Once on the bike I felt fine, and the run was decent. But my overall time was awful, and I can only blame myself. The weather was near perfect. Last year I managed to get an award, this year zilch. Still, the event was much fun as usual, with about 450 participants. This is a very popular event, a horde of Chicago-area athletes and others from all over Illinois and elsewhere converging here every year.

My buddy Bruce Rodgers, for the first and last time, whipped me in the swim, and he had a great race despite still trying to heal an injury. Bruce, get off that leg and rest.

A Date with the Daughter of the Stars

The sport that preoccupies my mind these days is backpacking the Appalachian Trail (AT) in Virginia's Shenandoah Valley (photos above).

While planning the trip I’ve been careful to lean toward lighter gear. This from a lesson learned during my first trip to the trail in 2001 when I crossed the Shenandoah River at Harper’s Ferry, West Virginia, and immediately had to ascend a steep bluff with a way-too-heavy backpack. This was early November, but it was unusually warm and I paid the price for overloading. That was work. I have read of backpackers who go to unusual lengths to lighten their loads; for example, cutting a couple of inches off a toothbrush handle, trimming the margins of maps to get rid of excess paper, or maybe not taking a tent, just throwing down a sleeping bag and calling it home. I can see the reasoning behind all this. Every ounce counts, and those ounces add up to pounds on your back that you have to carry step after step. I've ordered a backpack that is a full four pounds lighter than my other backbreaker pack. Ultralight but strong titanium cookware is also ready.

Much more planning to do, but the mountains, streams, and wildlife will wait. Shenandoah - an Indian word meaning Daughter of the Stars. Beautiful name, beautiful place.