Back in the U.S.A.

Our nearly two-week trip back to the Midwest in July started like a whirlwind and eventually settled down. Steph and I conveniently flew together direct from Zürich to Chicago, actually the return leg from our original outbound tickets from Chicago in November (lacking our final visas, Switzerland hadn’t allowed a one-way flight in without proof of return, sensible enough). Without delving into detail, we saw as many friends as possible during a short stint in Chicago and spent the most time at Steph’s family’s lake cabin an hour outside of Minneapolis. As happy as we are seeing a few friends during our too-short return trips, we’re equally disappointed for the majority we don’t see. Coordinating everything is tremendously tricky and we now realize that our expectations should revolve around seeing everyone once every three years, not every year (of course, not including people visiting us in Europe!).

This blog’s primarily U.S. audience certainly doesn’t want to read about Steph’s and my somewhat altered perceptions of our home country after nine months away, right? Such platitudes, however mild, simply aren’t entertaining. Suffice it to say that our culture is consumerism, for all the benefits and drawbacks that insinuates. Since the prior blog entries revolved around a favorite activity--hiking--I’ll stick in that groove and focus on recounting an ill-fated adventure during our U.S. return. You’ll recall that Sven and I partake in an annual backpacking group excursion that includes my two brothers and several college friends from U of Madison. The excursion is dubbed UHR—the Ultimate Hiking Reunion—and as one could expect with guy-only trips, it’s usually planned with equal doses of hardened experience and local geographic ignorance to challenge the group; we jokingly call it hard core.

Backpacking isn’t hiking per se (like a day’s nature walk) and it’s not camping (with your car ten feet or a mile away); we trek everything you’d need to survive outdoors for three nights or so, 30-40 lbs. each, into remote areas seeking solitude. Planning revolves around geography, distance and water. We’ve been slightly lost and removed from water sources in Death Valley (in 2001, not so funny), snowed in at 10,000 feet in the New Mexico Rockies (2002), traversed the rocky Joshua Tree desert in California (2003), soaked by a weekend of rain in waterfall-laden Red River Gorge, KY (2004), broken down weeping at the expansive granite cliff beauty of Yosemite (oh wait, that was the Mariposa battallion in 1851, not us in 2005), covered nearly a half-marathon per day across the forested rolling hills of the Superior Hiking Trail, MN (2006), and kayaked between islands across frigid, choppy Lake Superior until our arms fell off (2007).

With too many competing schedules, budgets and home bases among the group, UHR 2008 consisted of just us three brothers for three days and two nights on the Glacier Trail (GT) in the forests of northwest Wisconsin (Sven claimed our Faulhorn ascent as European or ‘EUHR 2008’). Our largest worry was not the sketchy GT trail information (especially unclear campsite/water possibilities) but the region’s wet spring and early summer—read, mosquitoes. But what’s a UHR without some risk?

The brothers rendezvous’ed Friday noon (Steph wisely stayed at the lake cabin) in the nowhere town of McKinley, WI, positioned between homesteads of Minneapolis and Madison. Interestingly, while Gavin and I waited for Billy (yes, aliases) in a Subway parking lot, a local sweet corn saleswoman in a pickup truck on the corner recruited me to stand in briefly while she used a restroom and grabbed coffee. At first I believed she had sensed from afar my MBA business savvy, but quickly I realized that her street-smart, Trump-style “Apprentice“ approach rendered my talent moot; her perfect location, location, location at the town’s main crossroads would have enabled any drooling fool to sell, as I did, $24 worth in five minutes. While I realize U.S. food prices have skyrocketed, her $6 price for a bag of 14 ears handily beat Switzerland’s usual $4.50-for-2 ears. My commission was a free bag of farm-fresh sweet corn, for me a $31.50 value or $378/hour!

As always happens, organizing our departure consumed most of the afternoon. Amidst a passing rain shower (bad omen?), we left one car at the planned endpoint and then carpooled with the gear to the trailhead 30 miles away. We divvied up items as equitably as possible, with tents, food and cooking equipment being the usual heavy culprits. A bright hot sun followed the rain showers, creating an instantly sweaty, steamy atmosphere that softened our precious king-sized Snickers bars before we even fully packed them. Leaving nothing to chance, Gavin had procured plenty of DEET and Deep-Woods OFF! as well as anti-insect head nets AND nifty full torso nets in case of extreme emergency. The forest-edge trailhead hosted a few buzzing mosquitoes, so we donned the head nets and doused our exposed arms and hands with OFF!. Thus charged, we entered the woods...

Pictures next time.