J
JeffD
Guest
This afternoon I hiked along the Batona trail, from Apple Pie Hill to within about a mile of the Carranza Memorial and back. The trail was dry the whole way.
About a mile in, shortly after crossing a narrow, unpaved road (it may not even be on the Wharton State Forest map), I came upon three stick and needle survivial shelter. The first one, to my left, was only about ten feet from the Batona trail. I looked snuggly inside, with just enough room inside to stretch out. Not much headroom, like a bunk on a Navy Destroyer. A little sunlight shone in from the roof, as it wasn't completely sealed on top or on the sides, but I imagine this hut-like structure would serve in an emergency. I think that's the only reason I would use it, with all those live and slightly decaying sticks that make the frame. I imagine there would be all kinds of things crawling on you after awhile. I prefer to sleep in a tent in the woods. Maybe some of the posters on this board would really dig it. About 50 feet down the trail, and further away from it, where two other such shelters. One of them had started to collapse. The other was higher than the others, and looked more like a teepee.
I originally thought I would turn right at one of the unpaved roads that crossed the Batona trail, then loop back to it. I wasn't sure which roads I crossed corresponded to the ones on the map. The map indicated that two of them were close together. They weren't, so I continued along the Bataona trail, heading away from Apple Pie Hill. Intermittantly, I saw bike tracks and horse hoofs in the bare sand. In one spot there was horse manure. I stopped Dolly from rolling in it.
At one point a bicylist was coming the other way. He stopped, as I made no inkling of moving out of the way. We exchanged greetings. I mentioned that the Batona trail was for foot traffic only -- no bikes or horses. He took off his headset, as he realized I wasn't just exchanging the usual cliche and wanted to hear me better. He said he didn't no that and said he was sorry. I said that the rules should be posted.
The trail began to climb down the hill, but at one spot it climbed. There were openings in the moderately forested woods, and at the point where the trail climbed was a semi-clearing. The trail went downhill, and continued that was, dropping farily sharply, more sharply than the intitial drop from the parking lot at the fire tower. The forest grew denser and I gradually decended. Suddently, cedars appeared. Up ahead was a narrow wooden footbridge that crossed a moving stream that ran through the cedars, a few feet above the water. We walked down the side of the boardwalk, where the ground was faily dry almost right up to the water's edge. Dolly and I took a drink. The water seemed cooler and had a fresher taste than the water from the stream the ran into the Basto River by the RR bridge.
I contiued on, crossing two more similar bridges. One just had a puddle under it and the other had standing water, a bit wider than the first one but shallower. At one point, to my right, on higher ground was a pitch pine forest, on my left was an isolated cedar swamp, neatly tucked away, barely visable from the trail. After awhile the Batona Trail followed an unpaved road, heading towards the left. There was a bridge on the road a few hundred feet from where the trail merged with the road. It crossed a cedar swamp. The water moved almost as fast as the stream that went under the first footbridge. I thought I must be getting close to the Carranza Memorial. I passed to hikers coming towards me and exchanged greetings and pleasantrys. The trail wove in and out of the sand road. At one point along the trail, three mountain bikes headed towards me, two boys followed by a man old enough to be their dad. I mentioned to the first boy, who was in the lead, and who slowed down, that bikes were not allowed on the Batona Trail. I also mentioned it the the man, as he biked up from behind the two boys. He also said he didn't know that, to which I replied there should be signs. Shorly after he passed by me he quipped "dogs aren't either."
"That's not true...it's just bikes and horses...As...Ho...," I retorted. Smart Alec Yuppie! :x
I kept thinking that the Carranza Memorial was right around the corner. A little further, a little further... Finally, I decided I better turn around and head back.
I caught up to the couple I had passed just a little earlier, and chatted with them briefly. The told me the Carranza Memorial was about a mile away. I mentioned the smart alec remark the mountain biker made, and one of them said that they thought that bikes weren't supposed to be on the trail. They also indicated that the remark about the dog was absurd, questioning what harm a dog would do and that as dog is foot traffic, and they never heard of any such restriction. I replied that the Batonal Trail book says HORSEBACK RIDING AND MOUNTAIN BIKES ARE NOT PERMITTED ON THE BATONA TRAIL. As I told the couple, I don't know why those bikers had to ride along the Batona trail, when there was a sand road running right beside it.
On the way back, the mountain biker I had passed by was coming the other way. It was a tight squeeze and neither of us gave an inch, almost like we were both invisible. We stopped alongside the footbridge closest to Apple Pie Hill and got another drink.
About a mile further up, a another couple was coming down from Apple Pie Hill. One of them asked me what's up ahead, and explained that they just wanted to find an interesting destination, like a stream, and then hike back. I recommended the first footbridge over the stream, which was about a mile down. I just hope they are good hikers, as I returned to my car about 5:15 p.m.
Shortly before I met them, partway down a sudden drop, I placed a small downed log across the trail to make it more suitable for foot traffic.
When I got to the parking lot on Apple Pie Hill, there was a man and two boys peddling around their bikes. I think they were the same ones I encountered near the Carranza Memorial. I had mixed feelings. I just wanted to get a quick drink (I had packed some bottled water and a dish for Dolly, not expecting to come across drinking water) and leave. I thought about showing him in my Batona Trail map where it said that bikes were not allowed on the trail. I heard one of the boys ask the man "are we going to bomb down this hill" as they milled around with their bikes by a path that led downhll towards the Batona Trail. Before you knew it, there were off --joyriders flying down the hill as if they were on a roller coaster at an amusment park. One of the boys nervously looked at me before decending.
I imaging that as the Batona Trail in this area is mostly dry sand, the bikes can't do too much physical damage. Horses do more, and make a mess for hikers along the trail. The problem is that the Batona Trail is a scenic, nature trail, for people to find solitude and stop to see the flowers, so to speak. It's not for thrill seekers. If they want thrills they should visit Six Flags. Imagine someone coming up the trail when these yahoos were flying down? This is where a big walking stick comes in handy. As Teddy Roosevelt said WALK SOFTLY BUT CARRY A BIG STICK. Maybe, as they flew down the hill where I left a reminder that the Batona Trail is for foot traffic only, they got a rude awakening. 8)
In spite of a mild intrusion by mountain bikers, I had a pleasant, dry hike, getting lost (figuratively) in the woods, enjoying a variety of scenery and getting tired.
About a mile in, shortly after crossing a narrow, unpaved road (it may not even be on the Wharton State Forest map), I came upon three stick and needle survivial shelter. The first one, to my left, was only about ten feet from the Batona trail. I looked snuggly inside, with just enough room inside to stretch out. Not much headroom, like a bunk on a Navy Destroyer. A little sunlight shone in from the roof, as it wasn't completely sealed on top or on the sides, but I imagine this hut-like structure would serve in an emergency. I think that's the only reason I would use it, with all those live and slightly decaying sticks that make the frame. I imagine there would be all kinds of things crawling on you after awhile. I prefer to sleep in a tent in the woods. Maybe some of the posters on this board would really dig it. About 50 feet down the trail, and further away from it, where two other such shelters. One of them had started to collapse. The other was higher than the others, and looked more like a teepee.
I originally thought I would turn right at one of the unpaved roads that crossed the Batona trail, then loop back to it. I wasn't sure which roads I crossed corresponded to the ones on the map. The map indicated that two of them were close together. They weren't, so I continued along the Bataona trail, heading away from Apple Pie Hill. Intermittantly, I saw bike tracks and horse hoofs in the bare sand. In one spot there was horse manure. I stopped Dolly from rolling in it.
At one point a bicylist was coming the other way. He stopped, as I made no inkling of moving out of the way. We exchanged greetings. I mentioned that the Batona trail was for foot traffic only -- no bikes or horses. He took off his headset, as he realized I wasn't just exchanging the usual cliche and wanted to hear me better. He said he didn't no that and said he was sorry. I said that the rules should be posted.
The trail began to climb down the hill, but at one spot it climbed. There were openings in the moderately forested woods, and at the point where the trail climbed was a semi-clearing. The trail went downhill, and continued that was, dropping farily sharply, more sharply than the intitial drop from the parking lot at the fire tower. The forest grew denser and I gradually decended. Suddently, cedars appeared. Up ahead was a narrow wooden footbridge that crossed a moving stream that ran through the cedars, a few feet above the water. We walked down the side of the boardwalk, where the ground was faily dry almost right up to the water's edge. Dolly and I took a drink. The water seemed cooler and had a fresher taste than the water from the stream the ran into the Basto River by the RR bridge.
I contiued on, crossing two more similar bridges. One just had a puddle under it and the other had standing water, a bit wider than the first one but shallower. At one point, to my right, on higher ground was a pitch pine forest, on my left was an isolated cedar swamp, neatly tucked away, barely visable from the trail. After awhile the Batona Trail followed an unpaved road, heading towards the left. There was a bridge on the road a few hundred feet from where the trail merged with the road. It crossed a cedar swamp. The water moved almost as fast as the stream that went under the first footbridge. I thought I must be getting close to the Carranza Memorial. I passed to hikers coming towards me and exchanged greetings and pleasantrys. The trail wove in and out of the sand road. At one point along the trail, three mountain bikes headed towards me, two boys followed by a man old enough to be their dad. I mentioned to the first boy, who was in the lead, and who slowed down, that bikes were not allowed on the Batona Trail. I also mentioned it the the man, as he biked up from behind the two boys. He also said he didn't know that, to which I replied there should be signs. Shorly after he passed by me he quipped "dogs aren't either."
"That's not true...it's just bikes and horses...As...Ho...," I retorted. Smart Alec Yuppie! :x
I kept thinking that the Carranza Memorial was right around the corner. A little further, a little further... Finally, I decided I better turn around and head back.
I caught up to the couple I had passed just a little earlier, and chatted with them briefly. The told me the Carranza Memorial was about a mile away. I mentioned the smart alec remark the mountain biker made, and one of them said that they thought that bikes weren't supposed to be on the trail. They also indicated that the remark about the dog was absurd, questioning what harm a dog would do and that as dog is foot traffic, and they never heard of any such restriction. I replied that the Batonal Trail book says HORSEBACK RIDING AND MOUNTAIN BIKES ARE NOT PERMITTED ON THE BATONA TRAIL. As I told the couple, I don't know why those bikers had to ride along the Batona trail, when there was a sand road running right beside it.
On the way back, the mountain biker I had passed by was coming the other way. It was a tight squeeze and neither of us gave an inch, almost like we were both invisible. We stopped alongside the footbridge closest to Apple Pie Hill and got another drink.
About a mile further up, a another couple was coming down from Apple Pie Hill. One of them asked me what's up ahead, and explained that they just wanted to find an interesting destination, like a stream, and then hike back. I recommended the first footbridge over the stream, which was about a mile down. I just hope they are good hikers, as I returned to my car about 5:15 p.m.
Shortly before I met them, partway down a sudden drop, I placed a small downed log across the trail to make it more suitable for foot traffic.
When I got to the parking lot on Apple Pie Hill, there was a man and two boys peddling around their bikes. I think they were the same ones I encountered near the Carranza Memorial. I had mixed feelings. I just wanted to get a quick drink (I had packed some bottled water and a dish for Dolly, not expecting to come across drinking water) and leave. I thought about showing him in my Batona Trail map where it said that bikes were not allowed on the trail. I heard one of the boys ask the man "are we going to bomb down this hill" as they milled around with their bikes by a path that led downhll towards the Batona Trail. Before you knew it, there were off --joyriders flying down the hill as if they were on a roller coaster at an amusment park. One of the boys nervously looked at me before decending.
I imaging that as the Batona Trail in this area is mostly dry sand, the bikes can't do too much physical damage. Horses do more, and make a mess for hikers along the trail. The problem is that the Batona Trail is a scenic, nature trail, for people to find solitude and stop to see the flowers, so to speak. It's not for thrill seekers. If they want thrills they should visit Six Flags. Imagine someone coming up the trail when these yahoos were flying down? This is where a big walking stick comes in handy. As Teddy Roosevelt said WALK SOFTLY BUT CARRY A BIG STICK. Maybe, as they flew down the hill where I left a reminder that the Batona Trail is for foot traffic only, they got a rude awakening. 8)
In spite of a mild intrusion by mountain bikers, I had a pleasant, dry hike, getting lost (figuratively) in the woods, enjoying a variety of scenery and getting tired.