Backpacking in the Kettle Moraine State Forest - Northern Unit

The Kettle Moraine Woods of Wisconsin, about an hour’s drive north of Milwaukee, holds a special place in my heart. As a boy many a summers were spent in these parts. Climbing these grand Eskers, crossing the rushes of grasses in the Oak clearings, and descending into the deep Kettles. These lands were my summer playgrounds. And for the past several years, there had been a nagging to go backpacking. It was something that was always on my list and there could not have been a better place for my first outing.

‘Ounces lead to ouches’ as one publication cleverly chimed. As discovered, this journey required not packing my fears. And unlike the bikepacking trips taken in the past, this required more planning and strategy as every ounce must have a purpose. Here we are, A gentle used bag found online was finally packed. With thrifted Patagonia boots tied up. Let’s set out and see what the trail has for us.

Day 1: Dropped off around 10:30 AM at the Glenbeulah Trail Head northwest of Plymouth, WI. The first 5 miles snaked around shallow Kettles and up steep Eskers. By the second water pump at Greenbush, spirits were high and the shade of the tall trees protected me from the heat. When visiting this area in the winter a few years prior, the landscape looked barren. But while munching on a Pop Tart, my admiration for the amount of life that grows here in the summer was staggering. Onward to pass Shelter #5 and to reach the Parnell Shelter #4 around dinner time.

The trail was interrupted within the first hour of hiking by the tracks of some unknown mechanical beast roaring across the openings in the forest. One would hope to walk away from the racket but it only grew louder as the landscape showed scarring from logging operations. From atop of the ridge, the ferocious beast was spotted. Grinding away down trees and the landscape alike, leaving unsightly destruction all around it. Compared to the calm silence of nature, the logging machine was louder than a rocket launch. Turning away from the destruction and onward as the path crossed ridges between lakes and ponds, tornadoes blew through this section in years past leaving only a few lone trees to stand.

A few miles before Mauthe Lake, a stream bisected my path. The heat of the day had started to take its toll on me, not to mention the smell of dried sweet and the cocktail of bug repellents that clung to my skin. Squatting on a flat topped rock in the middle of the stream the cool washcloth ran across my body. Giving me a refreshing cool rinse. After covering up some blisters and a sip of water, onwards to Mauthe Lake. A mile or so down the trail and onto the road, it lead to the General Store. Where a cone of well earned homemade ice cream was had.

The New Fane Shelter was reached a few hours before sunset, where dinner was cooked and the tent was set up. Alone on top of the Esker. Just me and the nature. Eating rice from my camp stove.

Day 3: On the final day, my legs and feet were stiff. As my body started to move the stiffness and aches subsided. Today was a modest 10 miles to the trail’s end. At sunrise camp was broken down and packed, a quick energy bar and sip of precious water. Off we went into the woods. The grass was drenched from the morning dew. And the air hung between the damp chill of air untouched by the warmth of the sun. Casting long shadows that reach out between the trees as the solar rays hide between the leaves and trunks of the trees.

After hiking for an hour, the sun was well above the horizon. The trail rose to the top of the hill where a bench awaited me, perched to look over the only real vista of the trip. Smokey clouds of mist hung in between trees that sprawled across the landscape. A water tower hung like a single drop interspersed between a few barns that dotted amongst them. No better place for Coffee and a Pop Tart. In that warmth and stillness on the hill, is where we find it all. In that present moment, is where the life force of the universe screams its’ majesty to those who listen and look. To those who clear their mind and open the senses. That is where life is.

A few hours later I passed the eastern terminus for the Lake Shore Chapter of the Ice Age Trail Alliance. A few more hours later and the fatigue and aches started to build. In an effort to reach the end of the trail, most the day had been spent speed hiking and my feet could feel it. Every rock that was stepped on could be felt through my boots.

After consuming all of my water and snacks on my last and final break, a second wind started to come as the excitement grew. There was a sense of joy and disbelief since after all these years, my first backpacking trip was coming to an end. A dream finally come true. With Covid-19 canceling all of my summer plans and hopes, this trip was the very least that could be done to escape the world in the midst of a troubling year. With part joy and disbelief, my backpacking trip was nearly over.

Reaching the trail head before noon was a feat of endurance built from cycling. 10 miles covered in under 6 hours including breaks and a detour to the water pump. All told the journey was roughly 35 miles covered in 3 days.

What amazed me the most, in my first hour back in civilization was how loud everything was. The car was deafening and my sense were overloaded. A few days after the trip, while my feet and shoulders were still numb, there were many things about the trip that was appreciated. Being able to get away from the noise of life and gain some clarity and escape from it all was greatly needed. But more importantly, how vital water is. As cliche as it sounds, we depend so much on it that until your survival depends on it, it’s hard to realize how amazing it is to have clear, clean, drinking water so easily available.