My first solo backpacking trip taught me the importance of being prepared

During a recent overnighter at Newport State Park, I realized I've been backpacking now for almost a decade. Crazy. It's an outdoor pursuit brings me utmost happiness and adrenaline while exposing me to some of the most humbling terrain I otherwise never would have thought imagined. State parks and national parks, state forests and national forests, plus a few jaunts on a national scenic trail, I'm really glad I dove headfirst into backpacking in my early 20s and remained committed to it. Backpacking constantly challenges me physically, emotionally, and mentally. There's zero pressure to compete with anyone else but myself, and I cherish that.

My first time ever solo backpacking, the trip that got me hooked, was also a massive shit show of total unpreparedness. In early 2014, a month or so after receiving my first backpacking tent from my parents on Christmas, I was parked at a trailhead on the northeast border of Wisconsin and Michigan's upper peninsula. Ambitious and excited to use the new gear I had been slowly accumulating months prior, 23-year-old me wanted to escape north and spend a night in the backcountry of the Menominee River State Recreation Area. My plan was really simple: hike out and find a place to setup camp for a night alongside the rocky gorges of the Menominee River, hopefully reaching within Pemene Falls. In the fall, I had become just obsessed with backpacking and the idea of winter backpacking seemed so alluring.

But I was so unprepared. While my tent, a Eureka Taron 2 that I still use today, was suited for winter backpacking, the rest of my gear was not. Hyper-warm, down puffy jackets, insulating caps, trekking poles, elevated sleeping pads with appropriate R-values, and proper hiking boots hadn't even come across my amateur mindset. Within minutes of departing from the trailhead, I was already freezing and my feet wet, but I kept pushing ahead, blindsided by my eagerness. I had a basic survival gear to start a fire and a headlamp but no handheld satellite GPS, first aid kit, or two-way communication device should should things get dicey. I had snowshoes, really good, ones from MSR, but no poles. My outer layer was a green coat from Kohl's, likely on sale, and I wore my skiing snowpants over like jeans and long underwear. Again, a shit show. 

Perhaps the dumbest mistake I made was hilariously lugging a gallon-sized plastic jug of water from the grocery store with me out into the backcountry. It had frozen solid by the time I reached my site and rendered useless. Why I didn't primarily boil snow or filter water was beyond me. I eventually reached a clearing above the Menominee River to call home for the night just before sunset and I was exhausted. The heavy, extra-large North Face hiking daypack had been digging into my shoulders for a couple of hours as I hiked through knee-deep snow. Quickly setting up my tent and unfurling my new-to-me Alps Mountaineering sleeping bag that wasn't rated for temperatures below 30 degrees, I got a fire started to keep warm and have dinner. I don't recall what I ate, but it was probably awful.

This frozen landscape nestled between Michigan's UP and northern Wisconsin was breathtaking. It was so quiet, I remember, only the sounds of Pemene Falls's rumble, ice cracking in the river below, and the occasional distant howl of coyotes or wolves howling. It was a needed reset from the daily grind back home. As the sun dropped, the temperatures did too and I crawled into my tent. Without a footprint under my tent or a pad under my sleeping bag, the cold from the ground was immense. I tried to stuff other pieces of clothing and gear down in my sleeping bag, a trick I read online. At some point after midnight, I awoke not being able to move my feet much. It was miserable, and the thought of calling it quits and returning to the trailhead in the dark briefly crossed my mind. Fearing frostbite, I wrapped one of those cheap, thin reflective emergency blankets I bought form Feet Farm around my numbed feet. I regained movement, checked the outside temperature, which was __ degrees, and tried to fall back to sleep.

The next morning, under a bluebird sky, I exited my tent, unzipping the vestibule to a winter wonderland. I was happy, and amazed. After hiking around along the Menominee River and having breakfast (probably an uninspiring oatmeal pouch revived with hot water), I tore down my camp and returned to the trailhead. 

To say I learned a lot from my first solo backpacking trip would be an understatement. I was foolish, way underprepared with the wrong gear, and lacked proper risk awareness. It's something I can laugh about today and ensure to never repeat those failures in the future. After that overnighter up in the Menominee River State Recreation Area, I've since made it priority to invest in dedicated high-quality gear, along with continually researching and learning as much as humanly possible about backpacking. 

It's all part of the grand journey to better one's self.

Cheers,
Robby

Welcome to autumn

Hi there!

Fall has arrived in Wisconsin and it feels wonderful. The moody cloudy skies, cooler temperatures, and dramatic shorelines along the coast of Lake Michigan. Our warm morning mugs of coffee or tea just seem to taste better this time of year. Fall is a season of change, like how towering maples begin to drop their amber and crimson leaves in preparation for winter.

Changes are happening for my blog too. Here's a bit of an update. For a decade or so now I've taken to sharing stories about my various travels on a blogging platform that's seen different shapes and names. As I've progressed through my 20s and into my 30s (yikes), the purpose of my blog has changed as have the intentions of the content I create. For a minute or so my blog seemed too scattered, outdated, and complicated. Furthermore, in recent journeys beyond the walls of my Shorewood apartment, I began to realize I had really missed writing and diving behind the lens of my camera. Perhaps credit the fact that I've been hooked on a docuseries on Netflix I'd highly recommend called Tales by Light. 

Speaking of photography, that's a quick shot I grabbed of the moon rising over Colorado's Pikes Peak a few weeks back. The final image turned out surprisingly well for standing in a parking lot on our way home from dinner with a zoom lens but sans any tripod.

Anyways, I'm eager to start completely fresh and in the coming weeks plan to continue redesigning my blog so that it's best set up for what I want to do the most: authentic storytelling.  Stay tuned. Maybe amidst sharing new stories I'll re-edit and re-post a few of my older stories too. Who knows, but thanks for being here.

Cheers,

Robby

Midsummer backpacking at Newport State Park

I feel like I hit the jackpot one day on my lunch break. 

I randomly looked at campsites on the Wisconsin DNR's reservation website, eager for a weekend backpacking trip, and discovered there was an ultra rare opening at Newport State Park up in Door Count. Typically this never happens, as while it still remains an under-the-radar place to go backpacking in, Newport State Park is damn near impossible to secure a reservation during the peak season. This is a small part of the reason why in all the many times I've backpacked at my favorite patch of wilderness in Wisconsin it's been during the colder months (really though the winter solitude is just always breathtaking). Anyways, victory was in reach and I was able to successfully secure a reservation for just one Saturday night in late July. Not having to pack my winter backpacking gear and brave the oftentimes horrifically sub-zero temperatures, I was so ecstatic to explore Newport for the very first time outside during the heat of summer.

What gear to pack for a day hike

Planning a day hike? Here's what I think you should pack.

Preparation is key for any kind of outdoor adventure, whether a multi-day backpacking trip or a hike into the woods for a couple of hours. The more prepared you are... the more fun you can have, the safer you can be, and the further you can venture into the wilderness without fretting the intimidating what-ifs. I hope this post encourages you to reconsider how you approach going about on a day hike and reexamine what belongs in your daypack!

Since 2018 I've used a great daypack from Boulder Pack Co. that's proved to be a durable and lightweight (at 11.2 ounces) vessel for hauling around the necessities for whenever I plan a day hike. It can carry 28 liters worth of gear, is comfortable to wear, and compacts easily. There's a front pocket with a further zipped pouch for stashing away smaller important items, two mesh nets on the sides with clip straps, a carabiner, and a main pocket for the larger stuff. Unfortunately, in doing some research while writing this blog post, it appears Boulder Pack Co. might be out of business. But I could be wrong. In need of a solid daypack? Check REI, The Clymb, Backcountry.com, or your local gear store for one, as $40-$70 should buy you a solid daypack that's 20 to 40 liters in size.

So what's in my own daypack? Here's the rundown.

• Headlamp. Sometimes hikes take longer than expected and you may be out on the trail right as the sun starts to drop beneath the horizon. My go-to is one of my two headlamps from Black Diamond, and obviously, make sure the batteries are charged or fresh.
• Compass and map. Bring a paper map, folks. Regardless if you know the area. Cell phones lose service, can break unexpectedly, or die. Learn basic navigation with a compass (I have a basic one from Silva) and master to use one hand-in-hand with a map so you don't get lost. Topo maps, like ones from National Geographic or printable ones via Caltopo.com, are key when you're really in the backcountry.
• Rescue beacon or two-way communication device. I often like to go solo in the outdoors and a rescue beacon or PLB (personal locator beacon) is an easy piece of gear that can save your life should you run into an emergency. I've relied on a SPOT Gen 3 satellite messenger with GPS position tracking and a dedicated SOS should a search and rescue need to be orchestrated. Even on a shorter day hike, this is a worthy piece of extra insurance to have.
• Bug spray. Mosquitos suck and ticks do too, so I always spray on with repellant from Ben's.
• Knife. Again, a simple piece of gear that could prove handy in a pinch. I pack Sheffield's 12870 Moab knife with a 3.5-inch blade. You don't need a full-on machete, a strong little survival knife.
• First aid kit. This is mandatory and small first aid kits for hiking are super cheap! From thorny cuts, trips over rocks, bees, wild parsnip stings, or worse situations...spend the cash and buy one from American Medical Kits.
• Water. I usually lug with me one or two heavily stickered Nalgene bottles. Keep them full and drink often.
• Rain jacket or outer shell. Weather of course is unpredictable, so it's smart to stow away a light waterproof jacket or outer shell to shield you from the elements. I have a hooded breathable rain jacket from REI's own in-house Co-Op brand that works perfectly too as an extra layer should temperatures fall or the winds pick up.
• Journal. A travel journal and pen are a must for me. Unleash your inner Edward Abbey or Henry David Thoreau, or John Krakauer.
• Camera. I typically unplug and leave my cell phone either shut off when I depart on a day hike. That's when the Sony A6000 comes out to play. I like smaller point-and-shoot cameras or a mirrorless SLR. Channel that inspiration from Ansel Adams, yo.
• Snack. My daypack menu is usually a bag of granola, however, a mason jar of fresh snap peas or carrots or an apple does the trick too. Avoid the fake, processed crap though...that'll make you feel like garbage. Bonus trail snacks like black raspberries are the best, just give them a quick splash of water first.

Cheers,
Robby