No, Really, I Am an American

It would probably be better “Batman vs. Poison Ivy” but this time around I’m writing about the actual plant, not the villain.

In the post that wasn’t, I wrote about the list Toni and I compiled of all the things we wanted to try and do before the summer ended (and before I possibly leave the country). Now, just about every year, we have a list like this; but this year, we picked dates as well. I think that’s what separates this year from our other years.

On this list was a trip to Starved Rock, a place I have never been to and a place I’ve always wanted to visit.

I woke up this morning around 7 AM. I was a bit confuzzled by this fact because the gang wasn’t supposed to be picking me up until 9:15. I was quite annoyed with myself for being awake and thought I ought to just stay awake…but eventually, I fell asleep again twenty minutes before my alarm was set.

This wasn’t exactly the best way to start out the day.

I went ahead and took a shower, and then actually sat down to breakfast with my parents. I was pretty excited about eating pancakes and drinking chocolate milk. I must confess, I was surprised to discover that my dad had put blueberries in the pancakes this morning. I can’t remember if he’d ever done that before.

I had dressed in loose-fitting, comfortable clothes and my dad was like, “Why are you dressed like that?”

I had to smile a little and thought it wasn’t exactly one of my dad’s more pleasant greetings. I told him about hiking, and he reminded me about sunblock, bug spray, and insisted I wear a hat. I’m usually pretty good about the first two things, but I’m not one to wear a hat. I think the last time I’d done so was when I wore my old blue fisherman’s hat — if you knew me junior and senior year of high school, you know which one I’m talking about.

I finished eating and returned to my room. Whilst I was there, my dad took it upon himself to find a hat for me. Man, he really wanted me to wear a hat, so I eventually conceded and took the baseball cap.

The hour was approaching the pick-up time. I had sent a text message to Toni making sure they had directions since it was established earlier that she didn’t remember exactly where I lived. I was starting to get a little nervous when I didn’t hear back from her. I don’t know what possessed me, but I decided to wait by the front door. Just as I opened it, they pulled up.

Brad was driving Yoss Mike’s car, which he was kind enough to let us use since it had the most room to comfortably seat all of us, with Bert playing the part of navigator and Toni and I got to just chill in the back. All we needed now was a Rich and we were good to go.

I’d never been to Lombard before. It seemed to me that it was a pretty quick trip. Once we acquired ourselves a Rich, we stopped by the local Jewel to pick up last minute supplies like extra water and some possible snacks. Bert and Toni had been kind enough to bring along peanut butter and jelly, but they’d discovered that the bread they had at home was no longer edible and so we picked out some bread too.

Our provisions purchased, we set off to Utica. We listened to music and Rich filled us in on the coat of arms of Princess Eugenie of York. I like that we can talk about many different things ranging from something like politics to incredibly geeky things like Star Wars.

I was surprised at how long it actually took us to get to the park. For reasons beyond my ken, I thought the place was not that far from where Rich lived. Long story short, it took something like two hours to actually make it to Starved Rock. (I could be off on time, but it sure felt like two hours!)

Brad managed to find a decent parking space and we took the time to lather on the sunblock and bug spray. Remembering the crazy mosquitoes from when we went to Morton, I made sure not to make the same mistake twice and was certain to use bug spray!

We made a brief stop at the Visitor’s Center for maps and last minute bathroom usage before heading off. I was mildly amused by our little band of hikers; it was all the people Toni had originally named when she first proposed this idea back in June. Not that everyone else wasn’t invited, it was more the fact that we five really enjoy hiking, we keep similar pace, and we were the most enthusiastic about the prospect.

It turned out, I was the only one of the merry Starved Rock band that had never actually been there before. Thence, the first order of business was going up to Starved Rock. It turns out, it’s like an actual thing. I just thought it was the name of the whole place, which it is, but I didn’t think there was an actual Starved Rock!

It was a little more crowded than any of us would have preferred, but it was pointed out (I cannot remember by whom) that as we went deeper and deeper into the hiking course, the less people we were likely to encounter. That cheered me quite a bit because we got caught behind people who just walked incredibly slowly. To be fair, there was a bunch of stairs to the first viewing point and I wasn’t exactly sprinting up, but once we got to more level ground, it just seemed like we’d never get through!

The view from Starved Rock was very view-y. I don’t know how else to describe it really. At the risk of sounding like a jack ass, it looked like any other bluff overlooking the river. Not that I’ve been on a lot of bluffs in my life, but when I visited Natasha’s hometown back in college, she took me to the bluffs overlooking the Mississippi River so I kinda remembered what the view looked like.

So yeah. Now I’m a big jerk ‘cuz I didn’t really care too much about the overlook.

We wandered back down the way we came and headed towards the main trails. There were several to choose from, so we spent some time looking over the maps for our best course of action. I was mostly indifferent to which path we picked, mostly ‘cuz I was just happy to be out hiking! And in Illinois no less! (My perception of “hiking” involves inclines and stuff like that.)

A generally good and universal rule when hiking is to drink a lot of water. Mike was kind enough to lend me his fancy Camelbak since he wasn’t using it (he was originally going to come with us, but then decided he’d much rather catch up on sleep instead). I’d never used a Camelbak before, but I knew that it was a good way of carrying a lot of water. While we were still picking courses, I thought I would go ahead and drink some water.

I gotta say, the Camelbak water wasn’t the tastiest stuff in the world. First of all, I found it odd that I had to use a straw (I’m definitely more accustomed to drinking water out of a bottle and thus being able to drink a lot of it at a time) and second, the water tasted like plastic.

Yech!

A course was finally decided; it seemed that it would be most efficient to take the Bluff Trail as it would take us to all the canyons and we would be able to take the River Trail back.

I couldn’t tell you what all we talked about on those initial trails. For the most part, I was content just to walk. It’s no secret that I miss hiking and I used to go hiking alone when I lived in Japan, so I could talk or not talk (we both love soup) as the situation required. I alternated between following and leading, and as I mentioned before, the five of us are pretty good at keeping pace with each other.

We got turned around briefly at Pontiac Canton, but since we were paused anyway, we took the opportunity to munch on Jewel brand granola bars that Rich was kind enough to bring for everyone.

After watering and eating, we resumed our hike. I’m pretty sure I got back in the lead somehow and one of the problems that occurs when I lead is that I get distracted by other trails. I mean, come on! They’re there for a reason! Who wouldn’t want to find out what was out there?! (Although, now that I think of it, it is probably due to this minor detail that we discovered that bamboo forest back in Kyoto…) Lucky for me, or more like everyone else, Toni was the navigator and would yell at me if i started going down an unofficial path. This isn’t to say we didn’t take any side-trips, we just always managed to return to the main path.

We approached Wildcat Canyon, which is known for its waterfall. Unfortunately for us, it hasn’t really rained enough to maintain the fall, so it was but a trickle when we beheld it. I guess when Bert and Toni were there last year, the waterfall was more than a splash.

No matter. It was still fun to see. We moved on thereafter.

Now Basswood Canyon…that was a sight to see. The only word that I can think of to describe it is splendid. As we approached, I had no idea what we were coming upon. The canyon was shrouded in trees, and the terrain of the whole park is a combination of bluffs and gorges and the trails take you to them, but not always inside of ‘em. To be honest, I thought we were just gonna skirt around Basswood like we did the other places, so I wasn’t overly excited. I just thought it was gonna be like all the other places we’d seen.

No, not it wasn’t. Not at all.

There were two other hikers admiring the canyon as we approached the entrance; we were fortunate in that they were exiting just as we entered. That was five-by-five with me because it made the experience that much better since it was just us.

Brad mentioned that if we were impressed by this, we ought to go out West. I couldn’t help but agree. The more and more I see nature like this, the more I think I’m no longer suited for Illinois. (Or at least our area of Illinois.)

The ground was soft, allowing for multiple footprints to be left behind, including a racoon’s. There was some evidence of either rain or another water source as well, but not quite a waterfall as in Wildcat Canyon. I admit, I was surprised to see sand because for me, sand is a thing that is by a beach. I thought we were a bit more inland from the river, so I didn’t expect it. I thought it was pretty cool.

We traipsed about the canyon for some time, climbing up as far as we could go to examine the geology more closely. Brad pointed out lichen, Toni attempted to climb the root-stairs near the entrance, and Rich, Bert, and I just kinda admired the place. I remember turning to Bert at one point and saying, “I can’t believe our friends passed this up…”

Perhaps I’m exaggerating the canyon’s splendor, and more than likely this is true. I’m sure compared to, I don’t know, the Grand Canyon, Basswood wouldn’t even make a blip on the awesome scale. But if you had been with us when we saw it, I think you would have appreciated it just as much.

I think that’s what made it so awesome for me; I got to share it in good company.

We had to move on, though. There were more sights to see and more memories to make.

After Basswood, we stopped by Sandstone Point Overlook to behold the Illinois River. Again, ’twas very view-y. I was a bit disappointed that we couldn’t traipse about Lonetree Canyon the way we did Basswood, but these things happen. I totally coulda made my way down the incredibly perilous dip, but I probably would have killed myself doing it. It woulda been fun, though! (For reals!)

We took the stairs that connected us to the River Trail and followed along the Illinois for a time. When we came to the stone bridge, we decided to turn right towards Tonty Canyon and LaSalle Canyon. First, though, we had to go onto the bridge and look down. A fish, later identified as a carp, was spotted and it was remarked that those who are inclined to fish ought to take a trip soon.

It was while we paused on the bridge that I decided I couldn’t stand the Camelbak water any longer. Bert and Toni were kind enough to give me one of their bottled waters and Rich took to drinking from the Camelbak since he liked that yucky plastic taste. (He’s an odd duck.)

A group of boys passed us while we were paused. It looked as though they were to the same destination as us, so we let them get a head start. We figured it would be like those other two hikers or something, the boys would be leaving as we were arriving.

After what seemed to be long enough, we started on the trail again. It seemed to me that Tonty Canyon was bigger than Basswood. There was one point where Brad got separated from us and he took the high trail while the rest of us were content to risk stepping in the stream to investigate the geology more. We got to see fishies; Brad got to find out the path ended. It was kind of entertaining trying to see how far he could make it without solid ground beneath him — he was up against the wall quite a bit. Eventually, he got to a point that was unmanageable and he had to turn back a little and come down what looked like a more solid path.

Our timing was not what we had hoped, for when we came to the end of the canyon, the boys were still about. The difference between Tonty and Basswood became evident again as there was a pool of water with an inconsistent waterfall and a side with trickle showers. Three of the boys had made it across the water (there was no path) and were standing under the waterfall while their friends took picture and threw sandals at them. We left them to their own devices and kept to the side with the trickle showers.

Being the four-year-old-minded person that I am, I thought it would be a good idea to stand underneath the trickles. It certainly helped with cooling off! (It was starting to get much warmer by this time in an otherwise well-weathered misadventure.) Despite wanting to splash about, I was mindful of the fact that my pants, shoes, and socks would be mighty uncomfortable if I got them soaked. So I contented myself with just ducking my head.

Eventually, it seemed we out-stayed the group of boys and they departed. This meant that we could enjoy the canyon more to ourselves. Unfortunately for us, we were partly inspired by the three boys who made it underneath the waterfall. The minor problem to this plan was the pool of water and the perilous trip across — I say “perilous” because no one wanted to walk the rest of the day in completely wet clothes.

There was some back and forth over whether it seemed like a good idea. It turned out that “forth” took over our better senses, though. Toni was the first to make the attempt, stripping off socks and shoes to try it. I thought it would be great fun, so I followed suit.

Toni managed to make it onto the little log bridge, which wasn’t so much a bridge as it was a bunch of logs that were close enough to the surface of the water to try and walk upon. She made it about halfway down one log before almost slipping and deciding to turn back. Even though I knew it was probably going to turn out badly, I thought I would still try.

The water was just as cool as the trickles, albeit a bit dirty. It wasn’t bad dirty like Lake Michigan, just dirty ‘cuz of the ground and the like. I made it about as far as Toni did, using the face of the wall as balance, before turning one of the logs in such a manner that probably would have made it more difficult for me if I had pressed on. I also couldn’t help but notice the happy spider-like creature on the surface of the water. They didn’t look pleased that I was disturbing their hunt. So I turned back as well.

Which naturally meant that it was Rich’s turn to try. Why let the girls have all the fun, after all. Yeah, he got about as far as Toni and I did.

Rich was incredibly prepared. He had the presence of mind to pack a towel as well as many other necessities we might need for hiking. Now we three had to try and dry off our feet while keeping balanced. It was not as easy as you might think, but we eventually got the hang of it.

It was time to take our leave of Tonty Canyon and move onto LaSalle Canyon.

LaSalle Canyon was not that far from Tonty Canyon; ’twas just around the bend more or less. It was the most populated canyon we’d encountered yet. It probably helped that there was a group of picnickers situated on the flat rock in the center of the canyon. LaSalle was more like Wildcat in that it had a waterfall, which was more than a little shower. We were able to skirt along the edge of canyon wall to walk behind the falling water. (The path narrowed quite a bit and it was either splash through a running stream or walk lopsided on the trail, which is what we chose to do.)

Much like Tonty, I thought it would be a good idea to duck my head under the water. (What? You would have done it too if you could have!)

We did not linger as long in LaSalle Canyon as we did in Tonty, I think it was mostly due to the people and the fact that it was getting sunnier and warmer and we wanted to try and press on before it got unbearable.

The trail out of LaSalle Canyon brought us back to the River Trail. It wasn’t too bad walking along the lapping water of the Illinois. We encountered three other hikers, who I’d noticed before back at LaSalle Canyon, who were poking around on one of the banks.

“There’s a snake here,” one of the girls explained.

This intrigued Toni so she hurried along to see, while our male companions decided to pass us rather than look for the snake. I could not see it, but Toni backed up a bit to try and look for it at another angle. The fellow of the three stood as far away from the girl with the stick, and she couldn’t help but laugh. “Why is it the guys are more afraid of the snake than we are?” referring to herself, Toni, me, and her other hiking companion.

It would not be the last time we’d see those three. We alternated passing and letting them pass as we continued along the river.

The River Trail eventually ended in a great flight of stairs. It was here that we stopped to assess our situation. There was talk of turning around; Bert was supposed to have dinner with his dad that night, which he was willing to reschedule, but he wanted to know what the rest of us wanted to do. It was noted that we could always come back some other time, but in the same turn, it was also pointed out that it took us something like two years to actually make it to Starved Rock and the likelihood of returning actually materializing was slim. Bert and Toni also said that when they were here last year, the trail was eventually blocked off.

After much debate, we decided to press on. It was probably a foolish decision considering the many stairs we had to climb, but after we got to the top and back onto the Bluff Trail, we felt a sense of accomplishment.

But we totally needed to stop and rest when we got there! It was one of the few times we got signal during the whole of the hike, so Bert used that time to call his dad on Brad’s phone and reschedule his dinner. We also took that time to assess our water situation; between the three Camelbaks we had more than enough for all five of us even after the water bottle supply was depleted.

We had encountered two other hikers going the opposite direction while we climbed the stairs and we asked them if the way trail was blocked. They didn’t seem to recall it being so, so we took this as a good sign.

Once we were rested, we continued along the Bluff Trail. Not long after conquering the stairs, we encountered more, only this time they lead to restrooms. Brad said he’d meet us at the next overlook and went ahead of us, although we ended up waiting for him at the big trail map lest we get separated more than we wanted.

While we waited for him, there was talk of another one of our outdoor adventures that was mentioned earlier in the hike. It was suggested that we might try canoeing in the next couple weeks if at all possible. I kinda laughed at the thought only because according The List, every other available weekend is taken up with other plans, like the Renaissance Faire and Grant and Al’s zoo day/apartment warming party. But the prospect is still a possibility since Rich, Bert, Toni and I don’t exactly have 9 to 5’s. By this time, Brad was returned to us and we continued on.

Our next sight was Owl Canyon overlook. This one was one of the more interesting overlooks because it wasn’t really a wooded deck as all the others had been. It was just rock overlooking the water. We ventured out onto the rock table and peered over the side.

Definitely not a fun drop.

“Do you hear that?” Toni asked.

We quieted. There was definitely a disturbance in the Force…I mean, there was definitely a disturbance to the silence.

“Sounds like bees…” Toni looked about until she spotted something in the trees. “Yeah, that’s a nest.”

We took that as our cue to get the hell away from the overlook since we could not ascertain if they were just bees or if they were wasps. None of us wanted to get stung and spoil the day!

Hennepin Canyon was the next major sight of note (I don’t think we saw the aptly named Hidden Canyon). The trail between Owl Canyon and Hennepin was quite a length. Some time while on the trail, Rich took over carrying the Camelbak since I wasn’t using it. Once free of the backpack, my inner four-year-old took over and I decided to take off running.

I love running on trails. Flat ground is not nearly as much fun as hiking ground. If I lived near a place like Starved Rock I think I would definitely run more. The dense wood provides decent shade and the uneven ground makes for interesting bounding and general prancing.

Of course, I did not go too far; just far enough to get my heart pounding and satisfy my inner four-year-old.

Once I was back with the group, we decided to try and make dinner plans. Knowing that we hiked about all day, it was decided that we must have steak, or at least some similar form of protein. We’d also established that it would be silly to have Rich drive up to our area just to eat with us so we thought we would try and find something to eat in Lombard. It’s like any other large suburb so it had the basics: Bennigan’s, Friday’s, Chilli’s, etc. We ended up narrowing down the choices to Bennigan’s and Friday’s primarily. Satisfied with at least that, we let the thought drop.

We encountered a road along the trail. We could the the rumble of motorcycles and knew that if all else failed, we could just take the road back to civilization. The trail brought us underneath the road in a path that hugged the concrete; it was a path also lined with poison ivy. Brad was good enough to point out what poison ivy looked like before we set off hiking so we would be aware of it. Thus, we carefully wend our way on the path.

The way to Hennepin Canyon from thereon out was a less well-kept than the other parts of the Bluff Trails. Or so it seemed to us. It could have also have just been the fact that the terrain seemed a bit more…hill-y is the only way I can think of to describe it with the many inclines and decline and the tree-root steps. Still, it was great fun. At one point on this particular part of the trail, Bert declared that he was reminded of Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Rings, when the Fellowship was attacked by the Uruk-hai. (We are such geeks…)

When we finally arrived at the overlook, we took another break involving lots of water and more granola bars. Whilst we were resting, we again brought up the issue of dinner. Much like when we went to Morton Arboretum, we knew we wouldn’t exactly be the best dressed or the best smelling customer of any establishment. I remembered then that we could always just order the food for take-out and then go back to Rich’s or find a park or some place to eat. We decided it was a good idea and had our dinner plans secure. We also looked at the map again to figure out what to do next since we had come quite far.

Illinois Canyon was the end of the hiking trail and none of us had ever been there before. It was still quite a ways off, but we had plenty of daylight left so we decided to give it a go. For whatever reason, I was really excited about this. I think it was because we had a goal and given what we’d already accomplished, I was very keen on achieving this goal.

Unfortunately for us, we did not anticipate being defeated by a path overgrown with poison ivy and underbrush. We’d continued on the Bluff Trail until we actually came to a road which we had to cross. Once on the other side, we located the next part of the trail only to discovered it to be unmanageable. Like not even the wooden stairs that led down onto the forest floor looked safe.

I was incredibly frustrated and disappointed, mostly because we had all but finished the hiking course and had come so far only to be defeated by poison ivy.

We turned back then; it was a sign after all. When we made it back to the Hennepin Canyon overlook, though, Rich had had enough. He was having a leg issue from when his calf had cramped back at the tower of stairs and didn’t think he could make it all the way back. Since we were close to a main road, it was decided that he and one other person (or two) would go up to the parking lot and wait for Brad and whoever else to get back to the car and then come pick them up. Toni ended up staying with Rich, partly ‘cuz Bert, Brad and I were going to try and run as much of the return trail as we could. Rich had his phone on him and Brad had his; we figured the main road would get reception better than we did when we were immersed in the forest.

Bert, Brad, and I bid our friends good luck and then we parted ways, hoping beyond hope that we would be able to see our friends again. (Remember the part where I said it was like Lord of the Rings?)

The three of us alternated between running and walking at a fast pace. We didn’t run on the inclines as much and had to be wary of the tree roots and rocks that could cause an ankle to turn. Since my head thinks not in this reality all the time, I saw this as a quest. Our friends were counting on us! We had to make it back quickly!

We were able to alternately run as far as Owl Canyon Overlook, which was quite impressive to me. It was established that I don’t jog so much as sprint; it brought me to the realization that I actually don’t know how to jog.

Once we got to the River Trail, we didn’t jog quite as much as we tried to do before. Partly ‘cuz we were tired, or at least I was, and partly ‘cuz we started to encounter more people as we kept going. It was later discovered that we could have just had Brad run back all the way by himself since he still had the energy and he either used to or still does jog.

We were making good time, though, so it was more or less okay that we took to walking a bit more. When we encountered the stairs again (not the evil ones, just another stairway in general) it was decided that everything should be blamed on stairs rather than Dixie. So now, the answer to “You know whose fault that is?” The answer is now “Stairs” not “Dixie”.

I was pretty much finished by the time we made it back to the Visitor’s Center. I’d been out of water since the bridge where we saw the fish (from the way back) so I was incredibly grateful the restaurant area was still open so I could buy a Powerade. While the boys visited the facilities, I also took the time to get those cinnamon-glazed almonds I used to get from Great America so I bought two packages of those, too (one for me, one for my mom). Bert joined me by this time and bought some pop corn for him and Toni to share once we met up with them again.

We were to the car thereafter. Mike called while we were getting situated and we discovered too late that he had tried to get a hold of us. I guess when he called, we weren’t in an area that got a lot of reception. After talking with Mike, Rich called to let us know that he and Toni were walking back along the main road. I guess they wanted to see how far they could get.

It was a lucky thing for them and us that they decided to give walking a try since there was apparently a detour on the road. It was also lucky that they reached the roadblocks when they did because just as we pulled up, we spotted them. They informed us on their own misadventure involving two out-of-service bridges.

We were together again and it was time to head back north.

Some time during our car journey, I noticed a sign for Cracker Barrel. “Man, we should just go to Cracker Barrel. They let all sorts of folk there so we wouldn’t stand out so much even though we’re all gross.”

It was deemed a good idea so we kept an eye out for the next available Cracker Barrel. I knew there was one in Minooka so if all else failed, we would go to that one. (I had been there long ago with my two college mates Jon and Natasha.) We stopped for gas at the Pilot in Minooka as well and filled up. I think it was something like $3.99 versus the $4.20 or so it was where we lived.

Oh man, it’s been a long time since I’ve eaten at Cracker Barrel. I usually get breakfast when I go there, but since we’d just come from hiking, I knew I had to try and eat something with meat. I had initially intended on having steak, but then I saw the pot roast and hoped that protein was protein ‘cuz damn if I didn’t want some pot roast right then! I think Bert and Brad ended up getting the same thing ‘cuz it sounded so good!

It was definitely a nice meal, and it was overall a great day spent together. I’m really glad we got to do it.

(Damn. I didn’t win the race. Curse you Toni!!)

Next time on “No, Really, I Am an American”: The Misadventures of Rich and Toni

“I can’t believe those jerks!” Rich growled.

“My own husband abandoned me!”

“Hey, what’s that up ahead? It looks like…I don’t know…let’s check it out anyway! Maybe there’s gold inside!”

“Oh no…ARGH!!”

Was it really Rich and Toni who were returned to us? Or was it something far more sinister, far more deadly? Until next time, True Believers! See you in 30!