March 19, 2024
Day One
A Ride to Oak Grove Campsite
After various delays, I was able to put together two days in mid-March to do my overnight. The weather person forecast two coolish days, with daytime temps in the low 70s and nights in the mid 50s. Unfortunately, you have to pack almost the same amount of gear for an overnight trip as you do for a month-long trip. I cut back on the clothes and food.
My honey drove me to the park. We paid the entrance fee and I bought a backcountry camping permit for $5.65. We drove to the gate at Ranch House Road, I attached the bags and was off. The Mrs. wished me luck with a smirk.
Ranch House Road was a fine dirt road, the tram concessionnaire uses it to take the tourists off the asphalt without getting their shoes dusty. After a wrong turn and a backtrack, I continued on Ranch House toward the Bee Island Campsite. This is where the tram stops using the road and the quality of the roadway deteriorates considerably. The Parks Department plows the road and breaks up any of the firmness it has acquired from rain, use and grass growth.
This was a big change from my last visit a few weeks ago. The roads were plowed, I guess as a fire break, making them unrideable. There were a few extended patches of sugar sand when I originally scouted the ride. Now it was all deep, soft sand. Pushing the loaded bike through it was a chore. I rode the bumpy shoulder in the wake of a lawn tractor's wheels. The problem with the shoulder is that the tires would pick up thorns and prickly seed pods. (I got a tiny thorn induced flat three days later.) I stopped at the Bee Island campsite for my packed lunch.
After lunch, I pedaled from Bee Line Road to Powerline Road. I rode on the shoulder. Powerline turns into Railroad Grade if you stay straight. The powerlines head south. After a few miles of shoulder riding, occasionally switching sides looking for the clearer track, I arrived at a small comm tower. (I assume for fire communications when they periodically burn the prairie.)
I stopped and checked the map, my progress was painfully slow. I noticed a nearby hiking trail and scoped it out. The trail was clear. The surface was firm. There was a slight six inch wide furrow, evidence that others had ridden it. I weighed the moral, ethical and legal ramifications briefly, then started pedaling.
The trail was a joy. I hadn’t seen another person in hours and I doubted I would encounter a hiker. The trail deteriorated as I approached a hammock (an island of oaks and palms). The pigs tore up the ground near the woods, searching for food.
Picking a line through the pillow and hollow terrain was tricky. Occasionally the front wheel would drop into a hole and the bicycle would come to an abrupt stop. Not fun. I zipped through the flat parts. I crossed North Deer Prairie Road, staying on the trail. That was a mistake. The trail being wooded was torn up by the pigs and was a mix of riding and pushing.
Further along, I encountered a burnt out bridge. I removed the saddlebags and brought them, and the bike, to the other side of the creek. Despite my best efforts, I rode with wet shoes.
This section of the trail eventually ended at a plowed road. I made my way toward what I hoped was the campground entrance. The two maps I had and the GPS were a little sketchy on details for this corner of the park. After a quarter mile of shoulder riding and sand pushing, I found the entrance.
Oak Grove was a beautiful campsite with Spanish moss hanging from the trees. I grabbed a site with a huge oak log that would act as a table, chair and prep area. There was also a fire grate, a nearby water pump and a flat spot for my tent. The toilet was digging a cat hole. The water pump spewed rust-colored water. There were a few filled gallon jugs where the rust had settled. I gingerly filled my water bag and filtered the water. It tasted fine.
I set up camp and my camp chair and sat for an hour. Note to self: don’t go to the boxing gym before an overnight bike ride. Riding and pushing 70 pounds of bike and gear is enough of a workout. The campground must have been close to a rural home because a dog was barking or whimpering till dark, one or the other, for hours. There was also a cow mooing and a rooster crowing. I had hawks screeching and crows cawing too. Lizards scampering through the leaf litter got my attention.
Early evening while fiddling with my stove, I heard a voice and turned to see a lone hiker entering the camp. I mumbled hello. I was shocked to see someone out here mid-week and was taken by surprise. We stayed in our mutual camps. I figured he didn’t hike 10 miles solo because he was interested in small talk.
I heated up my now unfrozen chili and walked out of the grove to watch the sun set.
Someone had collected a bunch of wood. I burned some of it and called it an early night. The night itself was noisy with owls hooting, cows mooing, my neighbor yelling “Burt!” in his sleep and the coyotes singing to each other with their cries and yelps. I realized that every Western you see with attacking Indians screaming are the sounds coyotes make late at night. When you haven’t slept outdoors in a while, it’s a little unsettling with the nearby critters scurrying around. Is the nightmare having Burt an ax murderer? Is keeping the food in your tent a good idea? You hear everything in a tent and see nothing; it’s easy for your imagination to run wild.
Today's ride: 12 miles (19 km)
Total: 12 miles (19 km)
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