Backpacking the Leatherwood Wilderness
So I decided to backpack the Leatherwood Wilderness over Thanksgiving break. I figured what better time to keep away from relatives and enjoy some good ol’ peace and quite, with only nature to keep me company? Yes indeed, the benevolent old Mother regularly beckons me to her buxom, and how can I resist her awe-inspiring, liberating pull?
So first, a little background on the wilderness. The Leatherwood Wilderness is located in the Ozark National Forest, just under one hour south of the Missouri-Arkansas state line. It features semi-rugged terrain marked by numerous “mountains” (we’re talking about the Ozarks here) that peak at about 1200 ft. The wilderness contains 4 creeks (one bearing its name) and various smaller bodies of water that course into these. Elevations range from peaks at 1200 ft, to creek valleys lying around 500 ft above sea level. To the west, the wilderness is bounded by the Buffalo River, to the north, south and east, by Push Mountain Rd. and the Ozark Highlands Trail. The temperature in late November dipped into the 20s at night, with 50 and 60 degree readings in the day. Finally, be warned, be doubly-warned, in fact, that seeing as it is located right smack in the middle of the country, airplane passes are rather frequent and disruptive–I counted 1 for every one of five hours at one of my campsites.
I’ll be referring to the two maps at the end of this post for reference. I started my trip at the NE corner of Map 1, at the beginning of the yellow pencil line. When I surveyed the area on USGS and Google maps, I had assumed (incorrectly) that the so-called “roads” were actually navigable by car. Instead, I found myself with an additional 2 miles of hiking into the wilderness, and the same distance back out. Not that this is of any major concern–after all, hiking is precisely one of the things that I most enjoy about these trips!
Following down that yellow line, I reached the end of the road. These roads are really leftovers passages cut-out by old-time miners and settlers in the region. They are quite wide, and you could easily fit two horses side-by-side along their pathways. They eventually give way to more narrow trails which in turn give way to bush. And here is where the fun began, at bushwacking marker 1. And boy was this was fun! I had the pleasure of scraping my arms, legs, and torso against trunks, branches, thorns and all-manner of dead matter. Add to this the fact that I had to be extra careful going down one of the many streams the feed the wilderness’ eponymous creek. For if I slipped on one wet stone, I risked injury and a considerable soaking. My reward for all of this? The gentle, rocky-faced Leatherwood creek.
Once I reached the end of the (left) side valley, I met with the dried-up head of the Leatherwood Creek. Just a mile or so down, past small and medium-sized rocks carved gently by the slow waters of the creek, was my final resting place for the day. Here I soon discovered a hidden, “unofficial” trail that runs alongside the creek in its entirety. The hiking from this point on, until my next bushwacking segment, would offer little excitement, and I spent my first night with the calming flows of the creek to comfort my sleep.
The next day was an exciting one, for instead of being faced with the challenges of the bush, I found much-welcomed relief in the form of a trail that I surmised was used mostly by Forest Rangers (and adventurous types such as your esteemed author). As it turns out, the wilderness is handsomely traversed by narrow trails, up and down side valleys, along streams, and beyond. Naturally, USGS maps mark little besides the wider roads strewn about the wilderness, leaving miles of trail to be discovered by pioneering-wannabe’s such as myself. This is all in good fun, of course, and helps keep foot traffic to a minimum (this is a wilderness we are dealing with, after all).
The next helping of adrenaline did not come until I reached the second segment of bushwacking, between markers 3 and 4. Here I realized that I had strayed from the course due north and away from the creek. So, instead of backtracking, I dug in my heels and made the decision to scale 500 ft up the side of the mount, in order to reach the Brush Creek trail. Along the way I learned that, in order to get a good footing on the steep incline, that you should kick vigorously into the soil with every step, burrowing securely under the thick carpeting of fallen leaves (it’s fall time, kids!). I also learned that backpacking alone, you do your best to make prudent decisions, steering clear of compromising situations that could spell trouble for a solo tripper in the wilderness. Sounds reasonable, right? And yet there I was, my 45 lb bag snugly against my torso, faced with a 12 ft wall of rock. What did I do? Why, attempt to climb the straight-faced rock, of course! One step up the rock, however, and my good conscience caught hold of my testosterone-induced drive to conquer. Phew, for that was certainly a close one! I soon found a less daunting entryway up the mount, and pumped my fists in triumph as I reached the top of the summit. It was at that point that I proudly inherited the Balboa family name.
At the summit, looking across and over the glen.
After a short reprieve, I regained my strength and marched on towards the creek. On the way there I heard the sounds of a human-sized biped pacing slowly through the thickly-foliaged trail, maybe a half-mile ahead. I quickly got excited by the prospect of trading stories and experiences with other fellow hikers. But alas, though the evidence of human trekkers was clearly present, I pushed onwards as I did throughout my solitary trip. (And what’s not to like about that, just you, nature and your thoughts to keep the soul company.)
A hiker’s solitary companion.
When I reached the creek valley I was disappointed to find a dried-up channel of water, with all manner of rocks and leaves strewn about. So it was only natural that I made the decision to push on during my final hour of daylight, until I reached the banks of the Buffalo River. Just like on my previous evening, I quickly set about to making camp, and eventually laid to rest with the riffling current of the Buffalo River to soothe my sleep.
The next day I hiked down the southern stretch of the Brush Creek Trail. My plan was to reach the point where the side-valley sloped gradually down to the meeting point of the Buffalo River and the Leatherwood Creek. And to my surprise, I found a well-traveled path at the point where the trail turns E-NE, to E-SE. So I happily descended down the mount at markers 5 and 6 (the direction of this path is admittedly guesswork, and the meandering course was actually curvier than depicted). I eventually was forced to veer off the trail, as it appeared to turn straight east across the mount. After some careful bushwacking down and through a few rock faces, I stumbled upon another, smaller trail. As it turns out, the Wilderness is handsomely intersected by “unofficial” trails (i.e., those that go unmarked in USGS maps), along creek valleys and sloping streams. My best guess is that most of these are man-made, esp. seeing as they are narrow and shallow, unlike the rock-covered, dried stream channels I found near and beside these trails. Once I reached the Leatherwood Creek, I slowly made my way through shallow creek water and sand banks, to a place of temporary respite. But before I tell you about what I found there, I’ll make a quick detour to a disheartening but noteworthy truth about Wilderness Areas.
Seeing as they are natural spaces that experience infrequent travel, Wildereness Areas have a tendency to amass human refuse through the years. You see, most people (except hunters of the beer-chugging variety, of course, the same ones that take to tearing up gaping wounds in this here earth of ours in their four-wheel monstrosities with such contemptible disregard >:|) have become aware of our common responsibility as stewards of nature. Thus, what you find in these areas are curious time capsules of human waste from bygone years–canned goods, softdrink bottles, beer cans and the like, which are ocassionaly accompanied by spent shotgun shells (hmmph!). My reaction to these finds is rather schizophrenic–on the one hand, I’m itching to lay my eyes on outmoded tokens of wasteful consumerism and, on the other hand, I shed a tear for the very practice itself.
The forested wilderness, keeper of human waste.
Back on the trail I found a rather alarming, but curious sight–a bear-print the size of my hand! The print was freshly stamped on the edge of a still-moist sand bank, and you could discern 3-4, inch-long claws, complete from root to tip.
An arresting sight.
I impulsively bellowed out a loud and clear “Hey Joooeeee!” to alert any nearby members of the family Ursidae and, after turning the corner on a sizable mound at the forked-mouth of the creek, I found a rather beautiful sight. A steep, evergreen mount with a prominent summit situated precisely at a bend in the Buffalo River and, preceding the bend, a shallow riffle caused by small rock, the likely feeding ground for any animal capable of fishing. So I did the prudent thing and decided to drop my pack and enjoy a leisurely lunch. Luckily, I myself did not become lunch, and I laughed silently at the sight of stunted, leafless trees along both sides of the river bank, leaning at sharp angles in the direction of the river current.
After this short recess, I gathered up my belongings and hit the trail. The rest of the march alongside the Leatherwood creek offered little to comment on, other than mangy, thick forest covered abundantly in the leaves of fall. I eventually found my final resting place for the day just beyond Spencer Hollow, at the end of the blue line, where I slumbered once more with the nearby sounds of the trickling creek to keep me company.
The next morning I set about to carrying out my regular chores with utmost alacrity–I wanted to reach my car around noon time, to allow for plenty of time for the eleven-hour trip back to Chicago. So it was that on this morning I actually managed to leave camp just around 9am! The morning had been a rather chilly one, this following an abrupt change in temperature as a sudden gulf of warm air had temporarily descended upon the wilderness the night before. My first task of the day was to climb up the side of the nearest mount on my way to the Leatherwood Road. Once I reached the trail, at the end of markers 7 and 8, I pushed on confidently with a steady, though elevated heartbeat. My final reward on this trip was a soft but thick snowfall during the final 2 hours of hiking. And so it was that as I took in the entirety of my adventure, and huffed and puffed through the quieting snowfall, I was suddenly and unexpectedly confronted with my Toyota Corolla, safely parked just a couple of dozens steps away. So I bid farewell to the wilderness, and cheerfully embraced my safe return to the comforts of civilized life.
Map Legend:
*red = Day 4
*yellow = Day 1
*green = Day 2
*blue = Day 3
**numbers denote the beginning (odds) and end (evens) of bushwacking segments
***quadrants measure roughly 1 mile per side
Map 1: Days 1, 2 and 4
Map 2: Days 2, 3 and 4
Tags: backpacking, leatherwood, nature, personal, wilderness
December 17th, 2008 at 11:10 pm
mountain man!!! dude, you know your redneck bretheren w/ the cars in the yard will not take too kindly to you questioning the mountainess of their ‘mountains’. sounds v. cool.