anatermeulenagenda

[yourbleedingh3art]

My fake Merrills that are actually L.L beans tap me into supersonic speed .. Shoe choice really impacts ur speed , did u notice? It’s fashionable to quickly generate momentum … Hiking boots are the agile fashionista’s choice

[coxkara]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Merrill Hiking shoes.

[grammykim64]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Merrell Dash Glove Lychee Women's Size 7.5 Orange Hiking Shoes Sneakers.

[myeyesarebrighter]

I have finally learned my lesson. Just shy of 40 and I have figured out that I just need to purchase wide shoes and then they fit fine.

This brought to you by some new Merrill hiking shoes purchased in wide width that have changed my life this week.

[5lazarus]

Hi Lazarus! from the hurt/comfort prompts: “Hey, just look at me. Breathe.” Thank you!!

this story got completely out of control, but I vomited up 2.5k words from this prompt! thank you for sending it! I had a lot of fun with this little story, and while I don’t think I managed to bring it to a successful resolution, it taught me a lot about pacing!

to recap, you inspired a whole story idea with the first hug prompt you sent me. I was thinking about what Hawke & friends must have gone through, escaping Kirkwall, and how utterly miserable and emotionally shattered every single one of them must have been. what would that emotional catharsis have looked like? then ellie-elfie sent me a few prompts, which I looped into the story you inspired here, and then ended with this. I posted it on AO3 as Catabasis, though I realize I stopped the story before they go back underground. Thanks again for inspiring this. This was a lot of fun! 

The warm wet of the woods washes away the ash of the last of Kirkwall. Merrill winds them through the muddy woods. She makes them take their shoes off to confuse their tracks, despite Anders muttering about hookworm and Varric’s hatred of dirt, and routinely casts a spell to shift the leaf litter back over their prints. “It’s going to look like elves were travelling, if they’re looking at all,” she says. “Not four humans, a dwarf, and Dog.” Dog barks merrily at the mention of him and Fenris shushes him. “In Seheron, we had caligo lagoenae,” Fenris says. “Can you do something similar?” “Fenris, I don’t speak Tevene,” Merril says shortly. Hawke puts their hand on her shoulder. She is still irritated over the grammar argument in the cave, and Hawke knows she has refused to learn Tevene as a point of principle. Bethany’s said that the best way to learn old magic is to read the magisterium’s journals. Merrill has said the only elves who know Tevene are slaves and slavers, and she would rather not. She continues, “Do you know it in Common? Or is it a spellword?” Fenris snaps, “Don’t patronize me,” and now it is Anders’ turn to step in and diffuse the situation. “I can work up a fog,” he says. “But you’re better at nature magic than I am, Merrill.” They don’t bother asking Bethany, because Bethany is best at curses and massively destructive rift spells. Hawke smirks to themself. Their family always makes a splash, wherever they go--good thing Merrill knows how to cover it up. Merrill weaves and thickens the humidity of the already cloying woods into a thick fog. Bethany summons a small flame and leads them forward, Fenris at her side, checking for signs that his underground left. Aveline sighs. “Creeping through the forest with a thick fog, as if that’s not suspicious.” She shakes her head. Fenris made her change into a light leather armor and leave her guard’s uniform behind. She looks close to the worn woman that Hawke met, all those long years ago, with the security of Kirkwall of her back. She still clutches her sword. Hawke is sorry they made her throw away the Amell family shield. They cannot help but suspect Fenris took some pleasure out of ordering Aveline out of her uniform. They’ve wanted to do the same for so long too, but they know the only way to balance their friends is to step out of the way. Aveline is an idealist, perhaps even more than Anders is; she finds her disillusionment in her own way. Hawke mutters a curse as they step into a particularly noxious puddle of mud. They’ve pushed her further down it, certainly. “Dunno how you stand this,” Hawke says. “The mud. The bugs. Fungus. Do you ever think you’re going to get infected with, like, mushroom people?” “Mushroom people,” Varric mutters. “That’s a good one. Better than lizards.” “No, really,” Hawke protests, scraping the mud of their feet on a tree. Merrill, irritated, waves a hand and the mud hardens and falls off. Hawke blushes: right, that’s a very clear mark a person was there. “Sorry. But, we’ve all seen some strange things in our time in Kirkwall. Amulets that turn into strange witches who can turn into dragons and eat darkspawn. Trees that turn into angry men-spirit-elf things that guard tombs. An actual ancient elvhen god, living in the sewer.” “You know, it’s not so clear Xebenkeck was one of my people’s gods,” Merrill says testily. “She is referred to as both a Forbidden One in our lore and a Forgotten One in the Chantry’s interpolation of the Tevinter text, and--” “Pedant,” Hawke says fondly. “But given all the weird shit we’ve had to fight, I feel like we’re due for some mushroom people springing up on us.” Merrill says, “That’s not how the Fade works. This is land still roved by the People. Think about it like a garden. A good Keeper prunes back the rot and the overgrowth, and leaves space for growth. And burns it out, when necessary. Kirkwall hasn’t had a good Keeper in a long time.” “Or First,” Fenris says nastily. Merrill says, “That demon took Marethari, Fenris. Not me. And if you’re not able to understand that, I don’t understand how you’re able to tolerate Justice and Anders and not what I did with Audacity.” “Because Justice isn’t a demon,” Anders says angrily. Merrill sighs. “I haven’t the time to argue Chantry propaganda with you. You can lead a halla to the water, but you can’t make him drink. I don’t understand how you can hate the Circles and still impose the way they shape the Fade--” “Oh, come off it, you’re worse than Velanna,” Anders says. “Even you have to admit, that time Hawke dragged us into the Fade, that demons mirror Andraste’s teachings on the seven deadliest sins.” “Only because Andrastians outnumber us now,” Merrill argues. “Because when I dream with my clan, we see spirits inherently different--which implies that there is no set form, as you say. What’s the line between Justice and Vengeance, anyway? Between Pride and Fortitude, Audacity and Courage? Fenris, you must have seen how Seheron feels differently than, say, Minrathous, or Kirkwall, or even Wycombe and the Friendly Homes. Where the Fade touches the Waking World--” “They’re going to go on like this for hours,” Varric says. “And I don’t understand shit. Sunshine, why don’t you ever join in?” “Both of them are far too proud to be fun to argue with,” Bethany shrugs. She pushes the lick of flame over her head and nudges it onward. It warms her tired face. Hawke thinks that she looks like their mother, as beautiful as her too, and Leandra would be furious to see the mess their children had made of their lives, on the run again. But she would be happy that they were alive. They troop through the forest, wet and muddy and irritable, and eventually even Anders runs out of things to argue about. Hawke grows comfortable in the smell of Merrill’s petrichor spells. Though the mud is admittedly unpleasant, they like the feel of wet grass sticking to their feet and legs. The woods are loud, Merrill’s magic feels like a hug from her herself, and they feel like they may just get through this. The ground grows rocky as they climb into the Vimmarks. Varric, though he hates inclined surfaces, argues that it is safer to stay in the mountains and follow a winding path past Ostwick rather than risk crossing them and skirting so close to Starkaven. “Prince Charming won’t think we’ll go up,” he says. “Trust me. One thing Sebastian knows about me, is how much I hate hiking.” They set up camp in rock shelters Merrill picks out. She knows this part of the route better than Fenris. Rain sets back in at night. Hawke wonders if Merrill inadvertently summoned it, with her fog spells. It is hard to gauge what a mage can do, because their friends regularly do the impossible. Varric has plucked arrows out of the air, Fenris can pass through walls like a lyrium-infused ghost, and Aveline took down the eldritch horror of a rock wraith in the Deep Roads. The feel of the caves is fantastic. The air tastes good, somehow, fresh and hungry, and the walls are inscribed with runes, layered through the ages. Some of them Merril can read, and she and Fenris sit down with a notebook and they go over them together, Merrill saying the words aloud and Fenris trying to write them down. Anders sits next to Hawke as they watch them. They are all tired, but the tension has been easing the further they get away from the city. They are not sure any of this can be resolved, but right now, they are too tired to fight. “Has Fenris been teaching  you his dialect?” Hawke asks. “Merrill tries with me, she’s very particular about it. Says my accent is adorably shit.” Anders says, “Justice knows Elvhen. I--sometimes I know it when he says it, sometimes I don’t. It’s easier when the Veil is thinner, but gives me a headache.” “Huh. So spirits speak Elvhen.” Hawke turns to Bethany. “How does that work?” She is the Fade expert, out of the trio, though Bethany disengages with grace whenever Merrill disagrees with her. Bethany shrugs. “Dunno. Maker’s first children? Anecdotally I’ve heard that elvhen mages are more susceptible to the Harrowing--” “That’s not true,” Anders interrupts, “that’s because of templar bias and the way they’re discriminated against--” “Let me finish, Anders,” Bethany says, irritated. “As I was saying. There seems to be a stronger pull between elves and spirits, and Merrill thinks is has to do with Dalish cosmology, though that wouldn’t make sense because Orsino--well, no one has actually studied it. And now no one will, not with what’s happening with the Circles. If they don’t just kill us all.” “Fiona won’t let that happen,” Anders says, face hard. “The Liberati have enough of a majority to push for a vote.” Bethany snorts. “Didn’t know you were that engaged in Circle politics.” “I voted,” Anders protests. “Until it was no longer useful for me.” “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Hawke says. “I’m gonna go talk to Varric instead.” The days proceed much like the rest. People talk. Hawke listens. They learn that Isabela, Anders, and Merrill have all met the hero-wardens of Ferelden before. Merrill comes from the same clan as Warden Mahariel, though Sabrae split before the Blight. Anders still corresponds with Surana, who lives in Amaranthine to avoid the stress of warden politics and to support Warden Tabris, who Isabela hooked up with in Denerim. Isabela also slept with the Left Hand of the Divine, they discover, and the King of Ferelden’s lover. “Though we couldn’t talk him into bed with us,” she sighs. “Though Zevran and Tabris and I really tried. He just--I think he got overwhelmed by all the anatomy. Poor boy.” Hawke snickers. The days go on like this, aching their way through the Vimmarks. These are the paths the Dalish take, and escaped slaves, and occasionally mages. They find marks of all three groups overlapping, though Bethany casts enough obfuscation hexes to keep them from intersecting that she collapses in her bedroll at the end of each day, shaking. Likewise cleaning their tracks begins to take a toll on Merrill. She withdraws into herself, focusing on relentlessly hiding their trail, and not even Varric can get her to laugh. “I’m tired,” she says. “And I need to focus. Please stop.” Hawke decides they need a rest day at the border of Hercinia and Wycombe. Fenris knows a cave system that will take them directly to his friends from Clan Lavellan, who promised him refuge the last time they saw him. He claims it will only take two days, but it will be two days without sunlight, and Hawke remembers how depressed Varric got without the sky. They camp in a treehouse built into a grove right below the mouth of the cave. Everyone is quiet, for the most part, curled around the fire. Aveline hums as she patches a shirt for Isabela, and Anders goes through his medicine bag to reassure himself they have enough to heal them through to Wycombe. Varric stares into the fire. “When I write about this,” he says, “I think I’ll keep this for myself.” “Why?” Bethany asks. He purses his lips, thinking. Hawke wraps their arms around Merrill, who is already half-asleep, and enjoys their friends. It is always fun to watch Varric think, he’s the cleverest out of all them, except maybe Merrill. Merrill buries her face in their arms, and they look down, concerned. She is upset, and there is nowhere private to ask why. The fire casts shadows over his face. Varric looks old. They all do. It has been a hard month. He says finally, “Because there’s no romance in it. No one wants to read about the Champion and their friends all fighting, and not really coming to any consensus besides that they want to stop fighting and be safe. There’s no moral in it, nothing uplifting. Just that people fight, viciously. That we make mistakes we can’t fix. And we just have to live with it. It’s not compelling. Not like our story in Kirkwall, which is more about Kirkwall. Who are we without the city in the background? I don’t know. I think I’ll end it in the docks. Or maybe with us watching the city burn. So people can assign us closure. Choose their own happy ending, because I don’t know what ours will be yet.” Isabela says, “Nothing special, just pieces.” She stretches again. “Keep talking like that and you’ll end up a Qunari. Our story doesn’t need a moral, Varric. That’s not how life works.” “I know that,” he says. “But that’s not the point. The story isn’t life. So I can make it work however I want.” Merrill pushes herself up in Hawke’s lap and whispers in their ear, “If they all start arguing again I will either scream or cry, I haven’t decided yet.” The journey has taken its toll on her. Hawkes examines her closely and sees the shadows like smudges under her eyes. She’s paler than usual, and she starts shaking. Hawke inclines to the edge of the treehouse with their head and quickly they move as far as they can from the others. Bethany looks at them questioningly, but they shake their head sharply. Mercifully they are left alone. Bethany is a good sister. She knows exactly when to look the other way and cause a distraction--and that she does, wheedling Varric to read a piece from his book. As the others laugh at the mess Varric has made of them, Hawke turns to Merrill. They ask, “Are you alright?” The fire casts light into Merrill’s eyes like a cat’s. When she looks at them, her eyes shine and Hawke cannot help but remember how otherworldly she is. She bridges both worlds, the Dalish and the human, but sometimes the old magic wills out. Merrill says, “Clan Lavellan doesn’t like me much. Because of Marethari. I don’t get along with their First. And I’m not sure how their Keeper will respond to me.” “Then they’re idiots,” Hawke says, “and we’ll keep moving. Send Aveline to resupply in town, and move onto Rivain. Dairsmuid or Llomerryn, or that Dalish town Isabela talked about.” Merrill is shaking harder now. “No.��� Hawke takes her hands, but she pulls away. “I wish it were that easy, vhenan. But there won’t be anywhere to go. Not with the Dalish. Because of me.” “Hey,” Hawke says. “Just look at me. Breathe. That’s not true. Look at me.” Merrill’s eyes flash back to blue. “We got this far, okay? And I’m okay with--I didn’t grow up as nomadic as you, but I can do it. It could be fun. I liked moving, as a kid. Bethany and I are used to it. And if we can get another ship, well, that’ll make things easier. And you know Isabela’s going to get us on a ship at some point. I know everything is changing. If the Divine calls that Exalted March...well, you remember what that dragon lady said.” “Asha’bellanar,” Merrill corrects, lips twitching. “And it was a prayer to Mythal that revived her, there’s something in that.” Hawke sighs. “Well, you remember what she said.” They close their eyes and focus on the words, which has haunted them since--partly because the delivery had been so terrifying. They quote, “‘We stand upon the precipice of change. The world fears the inevitable plummet into the abyss. Watch for that moment...and when it comes, do not hesitate to leap. It is only when you fall that you learn whether you can fly.’ And, well, we’re lying up in the sky right now, so I think we’re doing alright.” Merrill smiles despite herself. “How do you remember that?” she asks. “I don’t even remember it like that.” “Varric wrote it down,” Hawke confesses. “And it sounded so cool I memorized it. It’s good advice.” Merrill turns to the fire, where Aveline is holding a book with a luridly pink cover over the fire while Anders and Isabela cackle and Varric jumps, protesting. She says, “I know I shouldn’t have let Keeper find out about Audacity. She thought I was weak, but I knew her pride, I knew her arrogance. And her fear, since Tamlen died. I should’ve written to Mahariel, who could’ve convinced her. Or gone to the Applewood--but I didn’t. And though I lost my clan, I still have you. My aravel.” She gestures to their friends. “Walkers of the lonely path, who never submit.” She smiles sadly. “I think I fell into that abyss, Hawke. And now I’m starting to float up.” Hawke takes her hand and kisses it. Her nails are bitten to the quick. “You’ve been pushing yourself too hard,” they say. “Can you teach Anders that spell?” “No, vhenan,” Merrill shakes her head. “It’s--it was part of my duties as First, to clear the tracks of the aravel. I can’t teach a human that. I love you all, but that is for myself.” They accept that, and all the ways Merrill pushes herself too hard, and hand-in-hand they get up and rejoin their friends at the fire. There is a touch of mania to the conversation. Everyone is utterly shattered, but they do not want to go to sleep. No one knows what the next day will bring, and they are clinging to the routine they have set up. Hawke blinks and pretends that they are at the Hanged Man for a moment, but the bar has run dry, so they are all stuck being sober and chummy with each other. It doesn’t work. It feels dishonest, and the woods smell too good. Finally, Aveline takes charge. “We need to rest. Especially you, Merrill. Those spells couldn’t have been easy. We’ll get up before dawn and head out then.” Fenris speaks up. “And Clan Lavellan will hide us, for however long we need.” He looks at Merrill steadily. “First Lavellan promised me that. They will not abandon their vhenallin. And she owes me a favor, anyway.” Varric says idly, “There’s a story in there.” Bethany groans. “Not more stories, please,” she says. “Aveline’s right, we do need to rest. This part’s nearly over.” She banks the fire to keep it burning low through the night and they set up their last camp before the descent. Hawke is struck by the faith they have in them, going through their nightly routine. They have been two weeks on the road, camping through the woods, and though they have spent it mostly at each other’s throats, they have made it through. So little has been resolved, and there is still so much unknown. As Flemeth predicted, they stand balanced on the precipice of change, and they know they are about to launch themselves off that cliff. But they have their friends to slow that crash, and by this point, who knows? Maybe the witch will turn them into a dragon. Settling into their sleeping roll, Hawke cannot help but grin. They faced down the Blight, the long march to Kirkwall, the Deep Roads, their mother’s death, and the start of a revolution. What could possibly happen next? They whisper to Merrill, “I feel like this world is dying. It’s monstrous.” They smirk. “Monstrously exciting. Can’t you feel it? A new world is trying to be born.”

[cards-onthetable]

Hello and welcome

To another season of the Bullshit.

On today’s episode, we here at @cards-onthetable provide the usual top-notch analysis you’ve come to expect, this time about the promo pictures released for Blue Bloods 200th episode, the season 10 premiere, impending just a couple weeks away (God help us).

Specifically, we will discuss the STUPID RIDICULOUS WARDROBE CHOICES on display.

Exhibit A.

We’ll start easy, with our least offensive example.

On Jamie, we see a classic navy blue polo shirt purchased from the school uniform line of the Young Men section at Target. We’re here for those short sleeves. We’re less here for this dad-dressed-up-for-dinner-at-Olive-Garden (a classy establishment, but not Too Fancy) vibe. Where’s the t-shirt, yo? Rating: 6/10.

On Eddie, the outfit of the day is a pink striped tank top tied at the waist, paired with jeans, we’ll assume (when has she ever worn shorts?). The top is an odd choice for a character who never wore pink, or like, cutesy styled shit like that. Also, the jeans are a shade of denim better suited for soccer moms who drive minivans and want to speak to your manager. All in all, would rather see a v-neck tee or maybe a solid tank top in some neutral or darker color (where’s my olive green at?) and some pants with a little more character. Rating: 4/10.

Exhibit B.

Here, we see our favorite styling department has turned up the heat a little bit. This is a real Dolores Umbridge vibe if you ask me. Erin Reagan sports a pantsuit whose color, if it were a Crayola crayon, would be named “what the fuck raspberry.” The cut is less than flattering, giving the impression of a shoebox wrapped in a 4-year-old’s favorite color wrapping paper. I don’t know about that button placement or jacket length, y’all. And the ‘70s called, they want their wide ass lapels back. Okay and then what’s that blouse she’s wearing underneath? Is it... polka dotted? Floral? Either way it looks like something my grandma would wear out in the garden because it’s not nice enough to wear to church. Also, we have some real questions about those purple earrings. Rating: 1/10.

Exhibit C.

Ladies and gentlemen, this photograph presents some real challenges to our continued unwarranted loyalty to this trashcan show. We don’t even know where to start because this is just. so. abysmal. But we’ll just dive right in on Eddie. That dress is a Choice. A Choice that reminds us of something we may have seen Ma sew for the girls on The Waltons, or maybe Little House On The Prairie. The length. The neckline. The print. The general shape. We’re not saying she should be walking around like in a bikini on this apartment hunting adventure (which also, btw, just gag me it’s fine). But... yeah. This is a Choice. Also, that purse is empty af. Also, she’s a cop. Where the fuck is she carrying in this getup? Nice work, prop folks. Rating: 0/10.

Now, moving on. Sergeant Jameson “Dad Bod” Reagan. In another polo shirt. Did Eddie move in and throw out all his plain, 🌶 t-shirts to make room for her pink tank tops and mom jeans? This one happens to be the color of literal shit, so that’s nice. It’s really a complimentary shade for his skin tone and personality. This Shit Shirt is paired with some khaki pants. But not just any khaki pants, friends. These pants have POCKETS. MANY of them. You could even call them... CARGO PANTS. Like he’s approaching this apartment hunt as a goddamn military black op. Or a dad going into a baseball game who doesn’t want to carry a bag, so he’s got his wallet and his windbreaker and a water bottle and probably half a damn Radio Shack store in there. I bet he’s wearing Merrill low top hiking shoes purchased at Dick’s Sporting Goods. Like this place looks fancy, does he think that outfit is the way to score a lease at some fancy ass place? Or maybe it was his strategy all along to get Eddie to settle on a more Realistic place. You know, because of the Billz. Rating: -8/10.

[jaaayoh]

Needed to document this somewhere.. been rocking these thrifted Merrill hiking shoes pretty much everyday since the beginning of the new year!

🤝Comfort/style/versatility/practicality🤝

Can’t wait to hike this spring!

[grammykim64]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Merrell Dash Glove Lychee Women's Size 7.5 Orange Hiking Shoes Sneakers.

[bike42]

March 19-21, 2021

Six weeks have passed, and the weather has turned gentler, so we’re back for a redo to finish off Lincoln County and move into Langlade County.

We decided to step up our game and go for over 11 miles on our first day, meeting at 9am at the Cty Rd B trailhead on the Harrison Hills segment. We piled into two cars to shuttle to where we left off at the Alta Springs segment on a very snowy day in February! By 9:30am we were hiking.

After a few weeks off, our gang is always talkative and eager to go, so we started out loud and fast! We quickly covered what we had left of the Alta Springs trail, pausing briefly at the spring (guidebook says that from the late 1800’s until the 1930’s the spring water was bottled and sold for medicinal purposes).

From there, we entered the Harrison Hills segment. Supposedly, there is a large wolf population here, and we did see some large tracks in the snow and mud. We also saw 4 deer, and it was spectacular to watch them spring up the hill with their tails flashing – seeing them was only possible because of the leaves being off the trees now. They looked much more majestic than those that I see out my window eating from my neighbor’s bird feeder!

The Harrison Hills segment is rated a 5 (on the scale of 1-5) for elevation changes, and contains the highest point on the IAT at Lookout Mountain. It was rated a 4 in its general ruggedness. Honestly, we’re about a third of the way into this adventure and I just started paying attention to the ratings! I guess I’m more of a “it is what it is” kind of gal.

It was about thirty degrees when we started, with abundant sunshine and beautiful blue skies. It warmed up fast to a very comfortable day in the fifties. There was still 6-10” of snow in some areas, and the breeze across the snow cooled things down. Still, Gary and Kent hiked most of the day in T-shirts.

 There were lots of up and down, including many super steep portions. Our pace slowed, but with break time, we still averaged 30 minutes per mile.

In the spots where there was no snow, we were hiking through dried leaves from last fall, and once again we found ourselves occasionally stumbling on rocks and stumps – it was nice to have those covered by snow!

Saturday was the first day of spring, and another beautiful day. There is no direct route from Tomahawk to the trail head, so we spent about an hour dropping a car and shuttling to the start. We were hiking by 8:30am. It was a cool start to the day, in the 30’s. I started in my light down jacket, but after the first mile, layers started coming off. Similar to yesterday, we’d hike through snow covered areas, and then areas with dry leaves and no snow at all!

Until about 11am, we could easily walk over the snow. After that, it was warm enough that you’d crash through the six inches of crust, which made for difficult going!

We finished off the Harrison Hills segments and started the Parrish Hills segment without much fanfare. The terrain was the same. Our guidebook said that the wetlands in this area are so extensive that the trail was designed to traverse the high, narrow ridges, and across beaver dams in the low-lying areas. We were grateful that the low-lying areas were still mostly frozen. After another week of 50-degree days, this will be a mess!

Being Saturday, we saw a few people, more than usual! When we dropped the car at Townline Lake, there was a couple getting ready to start the Highland Lakes segment, and we saw a bike tied to the sign which is generally a sign of someone shuttling themselves with a bike. At the parking lot where we started, there was a young man named Ross who was going to likely hike and camp overnight then hike back.

We crossed Hwy 17, about where the turnoff to Fish Camp is. Jeff and I will head there after hiking tomorrow and visit with my folks and celebrate my Dad’s 81st birthday.

Then we came to the Prairie river, and a “ford” that we’d been talking about and dreading for weeks. Just before we reached the river, we encountered a young man from Green Bay (Chris), and talked with him awhile. It was his bike we’d seen at the trailhead. He started hiking the whole IAT last April, and will likely finish it within a year! He said the river was just ankle deep, so that put us at ease. We had a variety of apparatuses that we employed for the crossing: Tam wore her dive boots, Jeff and Dan used heavy garbage bags on each foot, Lynn and Kent had bought lightweight waders that they’d carried in the packs, and Gary and I changed into river shoes. The water was cold and initially felt refreshing, but the river was wide and my feet were frozen by the time I made it across.

We had a 17-mile day, and at that point we were only 8 miles in - although it was about 12:30p and we had a lot of daylight left. On the other side of the river, the trail was NOT well traveled, so the river ford must deter a lot of hikers! We occasionally had to really search to find the trail and the blazes!

 The rest of the day was a mixture of beautiful trail, and not so great fire and/or logging roads, and traversing logged areas. When the roads weren’t snow covered, they were mostly soft mud, and you had stay on your toes to stay upright and not get mired in the muck. Along the way, we came to some big stacks of logs and took an extended break there – good for stretching out a bit!

Over these two days, we’ve been past several beautiful lakes, most still ice covered, just starting to thaw on the edges. It’s been so special to be in these remote areas of the state and see these beautiful undeveloped lakes. We saw several covered lakes with islands covered in leatherleaf, which had a striking burgundy color.  

We’re not at the northernmost part of the IAT - we hit that early, then dipped south before heading north again. Today in Langlade county, we turned south again (southeast for a few more sections) but soon we’ll head straight south, and closer to home.

Sunday was another glorious day.  We had breakfast, packed up and we were hiking by 9:30am.  Today we hiked most of the Highland Lakes segment.  The first half was fire lane / logging road, the second half was road walk.  The first three miles of the fire road were a wonderful mowed grassy lane – lots of up and down, but no mud.  Of course, someone remarked that they were glad this wasn’t a logging road, and about then, it became a muddy logging road!!

Just last night, we noticed the word “ford” on the map along the West Branch of the Eau Claire River.  The book said its possible to rock hop, unless the water is high. We were optimistic that would be the case, and it was.  However, Lynn, with shorter legs than the rest of the group, tried to use the same stepping stones and she got two wet feet (changed into dry socks and she was ok for the rest of the hike).

We took a sit-down break just before getting into the muddy stretch, and then slogged about three miles through the mud – glad for waterproof boots and gaiters.  From there, we had a 4.2-mile road walk on a paved road.  I took off my muddy footwear, wrapped it in a plastic bag and strapped it to my pack.  I completed the walk in my river shoes with socks, which worked out better than walking 4+ miles in my heavy hiking boots and mud-coated gaiters!  

We walked past “Bogus Swamp State Natural Area” and a sign that described it as an “870-acre swamp of primarily a large muskeg of stunted tamarack and black spruce on a bed of sphagnum moss and sedges.” I let the others go ahead and just stood and enjoyed the organic smell of the bog coming back to life on the second day of Spring!  

Just before we got to the cars, there was a group of about a dozen hikers and two dogs that had climbed the hillside overlooking the road and were having their lunch.  We greeted one another, and later connected on the IAT “Thousand-Miler Wannabe” Facebook page.

We finished up just before 1pm.  It felt great to have hiked nearly 40 miles over these wonderful three days. Jeff and I drove up to Pelican Lake to visit with my folks, while the others went back to the bowling alley in Merrill for a late lunch and to catch the end of the NCAA Basketball game (where the Badgers lost).

[kdubya80]

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[bike42]

January 26 and 27, 2021

Besides difficulty in scheduling, now we’re lining up days that work for the 7 of us, and hoping for great weather. For this trip, we’d all made reservations at a hotel in Merrill that could be cancelled in case of polar vortex!

And while the weather up north looked ok, we left Dane County early morning Tuesday in a blizzard that descended upon us Monday night. It was a bit unsettling to see two cars in the ditch before we were 5 miles from our house. The interstate was open, but snow covered. We got in a line of semis and I was grateful for JT being such a solid driver. We turned onto Hwy 51 and the snow was lighter, and by Stevens Point, the snow had stopped.

We were the first car to arrive at our designated meeting point, the start of Grandfather Falls Segment. The others soon arrived. It was wonderful that we already knew this area from our November time here, and that the shuttles would be easy.

We left two cars behind, dropped Lynn’s at the 5 mile point in case we needed a break, then drove to the start of the Turtle Rock Segment in the Knickmeier vehicle. Throughout the day, it was mind blowing to recall the terrible blizzard we’d left behind in southern WI!

There was more than six inches of older snow, and while it was already tracked, I still tried out my snowshoes to see how they’d feel. I found it was more work to lift each foot, but the stable base was more comfortable on my feet. As we got closer to the Wisconsin River, the terrain became hillier with lots of large erratics, so I removed my snowshoes as I had to be more nimble on my feet.

We walked along the west shore of the river, past Grandfather Falls, which is the largest drop on the Wisconsin River. Some in our group were disappointed that it was a long series of rapids, versus the large waterfall that they’d been expecting! I loved the sound of the water as we walked north along the river, picking our way through large rocks and around trees. The tannins in the river kicked up some brownish foam, which was about the only color in an otherwise black, white and grey day.

We followed the river to Grandfather Falls dam, the site of an old hydroelectric plant. About the dam, there was a Flowage, and across the water we could see the cabin we stayed in last November. The trail turned away from the river, across some gorgeous terrain and through an area where beavers had been very active the past year - lots of freshly gnawed timber!

We punched out to Cty Road E, stopped for a snack break and dropped a few things in the car we’d parked there. Then we continued on a 2.1 mile road walk, north on E, across the river on a bridge and south on 107 to where the other cars were parked. We piled into the two cars, drove back to get the other cars, and then dropped two cars further down the road at the Camp New Wood County Park. The car shuttle was a great way to warm up and relax.

We walked across a bridge where the river is diverted to a reservoir, which ultimately flows into “penstocks” and into the power plant. On the “island” between reservoir and river we walked through a beautiful forest, much like the other side of the river. The trail crossed another bridge, above the “newer” power plant - none of us had ever seen “penstocks” and it was cool to see the huge steels pipes, but the coolest thing was a display of an old wooden penstock - an engineering marvel!

Back into the woods along the falls on the east side of the river. The sun came out and it was an amazing afternoon to be out in the woods along the babbling river. We climbed a bit towards the road and into the little campground at Camp New Wood, with 4 beautiful sites overlooking the river, and pit toilets that were open - a luxury in January! From there, a fun up and down walk to the County Park where we’d left 2 vehicles.

That was nearly 10 miles and almost 4 pm, so we called it a day. We drove north to get the other two cars, then south to our hotel in Merrill. We gathered at a Mexican restaurant across the street for dinner, different experience than when we’re together in a cabin.

Due to COVID, the hotel offered packages of cold breakfasts: yogurt and muffins - but on a cold day like this I’d have preferred to start out with a hearty bowl of oatmeal.

The temperature display on the car was zero as we set out, and 2 degrees as we started hiking just before 9am.

We started with an out and back in Merrill School Forest, a beautiful hunk of land, although I must say it felt odd putting in 4 miles that didn’t count towards our goal! Back to the cars that were parked at the county parks and I changed from my boots and snow pants to road-walking shoes with Yaktrax and wind pants. The only thing that got cold on the road walk was my fingers. In the woods with my poles, my hands were hot, but out on the road was different. It was easy for me to warm my hands in my coat pockets and all was well.

After the 5.6 mi CR to Tug Lake Recreation Area, the group was talking about lunch versus finishing off the 5 miles of CR. We loaded up into the cars, and picked up the two cars at Camp New Wood and caravanned into Merrill, hoping the brew pub would be open. It didn’t open until 3p, but we found amazing food at the nearby Les & Jim’s Bowling Alley. Tyler was behind the bar, and while he waited on us he regaled us with stories about their vision for making the bowling alley a dining destination. He’s a big bowler himself and has traveled throughout WI visiting other bowling alleys. He was just the sort of character that enhance these experiences so much! From the outside it didn’t look like much, but inside it was a great restaurant with fun characters. And the alleys themselves were beautiful, with a panoramic large screen behind the scoreboards. Tyler lamented about the dying culture of bowling alleys, and it is pretty sad. At most, Jeff and I might bowl once a year, but we both grew up with parents in bowling leagues. What happened to that?

Uneventful trip home. Great to have knocked off almost twenty miles on this trip, beautiful scenery and relatively awesome weather.