Devil's Lake Sunset to get you in the mood for spring.

Devils Lake Sunset from atop Major Mass

Hopefully I'll post a little more frequently following this.

HILLTOP VIEW: Warm thoughts about the CCC

By GARRETT SOPER

It was 1932, and the United States was in the grips of the Great Depression. Only three years earlier, the stock market had crashed. An astonishing one in four people in the country were out of work; over-farming had ravaged the plains, causing terrifying dust storms to wreak havoc on America’s breadbasket. The country was suffering like never before.

There was a bit of hope, though. In the elections of 1932, President Hoover was defeated by Franklin Delano Roosevelt. Right away, Roosevelt began implementing the program he called his “New Deal.” As part of the New Deal, Roosevelt signed a bill by Congress called the Emergency Conservation Work Act, which created the Civilian Conservation Corps.

It’s now winter 2009, and the cold, snowy weather has me dreaming of warmer weather. One of my favorite things to do in the summer is camp at Devil’s Lake State Park, Wisconsin’s most popular state park. The park is centered around Devil’s Lake, a large, unusually clear lake. Bluffs, with stunning black and grey quartzite cliffs, in some places over 100 feet tall, loom over the lake.

The park attracts hikers, rock climbers and campers from all over the country and the world. The hiking and climbing at Devil’s Lake is superb, with meticulously constructed quartzite trails that connect the bluffs and lake in a large web.

Without the trails, hiking at Devil’s Lake would be much more difficult and sometimes dangerous. The trails allow a person of average fitness to enjoy the amazing views from the summits of the bluffs and allow rock climbers to access the base of climbs easily.

The trails did not come to be there by chance. They crisscross all over the park, through boulder fields, on top of and under cliffs and to less visited corners of the park. The trails were constructed by men serving in the Civilian Conservation Corps, living in a military style camp at Devil’s Lake between 1933 and 1942.

Men from all over the Midwest came to serve in the Civilian Conservation Corps at Devil’s Lake. The CCC accepted men between the ages of 18 and 25. They lived in buildings of their own construction, were well disciplined and were paid a small amount of money to do arduous work.

They made many buildings still standing in the park, created many of the trails, and placed the rare bolt at the top of a rock climb that climbers still incorporate in anchors today. Most importantly, though, the CCC gave young men with nothing to do a chance to feel like they were working hard for pay.

When World War II began, the CCC was disbanded, because the nation again needed its young men, but the impact the CCC had on Devil’s Lake State Park can still be seen today. I know I’ll see the CCC’s impact when the weather gets warm again.

Garrett Soper is a senior at Onalaska High School.

Anticipation...

Well it's been a while since I've put a new post up, and that is a direct result of me not doing much lately, or hearing from anyone who has. I think the holiday's are generally a slow time in the Midwestern outdoor community. Most people are either holed up with their families or using their time off to go someplace sunny and warm -- an especially good option given the above average snowfall and below average temps most of the area has experienced this winter.

With the holidays over, and our cabin fever in full effect my friend Todd and I have been trying to find a weekend to go get outside and do something to kickoff our training for our summer alpine climbing trip. This upcoming weekend is that weekend. We plan on yet another attempt at the Devil's Lake to Parfrey's Glen and back hike. Hopefully we learned enough from our most recent attempt, that we will succeed this time, or at least not have a total epic.

A November Afternoon -- From Jay Knower

Editor's Note: Jay wrote this a few years back.

A November Afternoon
Jay Knower


No cars were parked in the CCC parking lot. The leaves had recently fallen off the trees. I had missed the fall colors because I live in New Hampshire. Now the leaves were a slippery brown mass beneath my feet as I made my way up the trail. I had flown back home, back to Devil’s Lake, for just a few days. I had to get away for a while.

I made my way to Full Stop. The rock held a little more friction that the typical nightmarishly slick quartzite, so I figured this climb would be a good warm up. Shoes on, chalk bag opened, I began climbing. Full Stop with the elephant ear. Full Stop with the three hard moves. I topped out and headed down the access gully past Peter’s Project.

Peter’s would be next. I had soloed this many times when I lived in Baraboo. The crux moves down low could be rationalized as a boulder problem. The upper crux before the top always felt just about right. And so it did as I topped out again. What was she thinking? Did she really mean what she said?

Down the gully again and to the base of Berkeley. We climbed this together last summer. She led it. I had never soloed it. The bulge always felt awkward, like I was missing something. This time I found what I had missed and gained the bigger holds above. Into the hanging chimney and onto the top. The sun was bright over the South Bluff but the wind did not encourage me to linger at the top.

I feel like everything in my life is falling into place, except this one thing. Down Boy Scout and up Brinton’s. The traverse feels easier when I solo this. I don’t have to think about the gear. I remember when I first toproped this climb. I remember when I soloed it four times in one week. This time, it felt the same as always. Right hand jam, reach to the big bucket. Done.

Callipigeanous was in full sun. The bottom is really just another boulder problem, though a little higher than the crux on Peter’s. And harder. I was at the ledge before I realized my decision. “I am soloing Callipigeanous,” I thought as I rocked over onto the arête. The realization brought neither panic nor worry. It was just a matter of fact. I wonder what she is doing right now. Leaving was the right thing to do. The sun was still high to the south.

I have always wanted to solo Congratulations. As I walked down the trail, the crack looked so perfect: not slimy, but crisp. I told myself: “Don’t commit if the first fingerlock feels bad.” I knew this was a lie as I climbed the first few feet: I would climb the route no matter how the fingerlock felt. She led this last summer. We sat together on the top. Now I am alone at the Lake. The top out moves gave me pause, but I remained focused. I did not sit on the top.

I whooped. The sound bounced off something far away and echoed back to me. I thought about soloing Birch Tree. That crux move had always felt so tenuous, with the awkward body position and that right-foot smear. But, I felt plugged in, confident. I moved up to the crux. Left foot on right side of the crack. Get the crimp. It didn’t feel right. Is our relationship over? My body was in limbo. It doesn’t seem simple anymore. I released my left hand and shot it toward the large jug. I will have to go back to her. I stuck the hold with a yell.

I had one foot across the line that separates calculated risk and recklessness. I forgot I was soloing. For a split second, I thought I was on toprope, that I had room for error. I did not have room for what was building inside me. Confidence was giving way to craziness. Yet, I wanted to solo ten classic routes at Devil’s Lake. Only three to go . . .

Double Overhang would be perfect, I thought. My first lead. I was getting tired, but the climb fell below me. Second Coming was next. Another boulder problem, though the laybacks felt strenuous because I was over gripping. I will call and I will tell her about my day at the Lake. One more route. The sun was getting low and the wind had teeth.

I walked to Watermarks because the wall gets the last sun at the Lake. I began climbing. After the crux, I turned around and looked directly at the sun. The light was diffuse, orange. Birds floated in the water near the South Shore, waiting for the impetus to fly south. The quartzite glowed as if it were lit from within. Maybe things will work out.

Devils Lake to Parfrey's Glen 12-13-08

This is one of my favorite training hikes in the area, and it can give you a real sense of doing something -- it certainly gave me that sense last weekend. One of my climbing partners, Todd, and I decided to kick off our training for the summer alpine climbing season with a weekend of winter camping and a long hike with light packs from Devils Lake to Parfrey's Glen and back on the Ice Age Trail. My best guess is that this puts the round-trip distance around 16-20 miles.

We both arrived late Friday night under a full moon, entering the park around 10:00pm, by the time we had camp setup at the Quartzite campground, dinner cooked and a few beers consumed it was just after midnight. It was cold, but we were prepared with weather appropriate tents and sleeping bags.

Saturday morning found us slow to get started and our hike finally got under way around 11:00am. Leaving us about 5.5 hours of daylight to complete a 16-20 mile hike over hilly terrain covered in ankle-to-knee-deep snow. Obviously that was not going to happen, so we packed our headlamps -- well I packed my headlamp at least.

We hiked up-and-over the hill from the Quartzite Campground to the North Shore Visitor's Center to make a quick check on how the Parfrey's Glen closure would affect our trip. The ranger there said that the Ice Age Trail was open, but that we should not go up into the canyon at Parfrey's.

We crossed the north shore parking lots and the train tracks, then we started breaking a trail up to the East Bluff Trail via a shortcut just behind the bathrooms. It gave the morning a bit of an alpine flair and got our blood pumping. We shed a few layers once we joined the East Bluff Trail, which was fairly boot-tracked, then continued up towards Elephant Rocks, where we shed a few more layers. We followed the East Bluff Trail to its junction with the CCC Trail, where we cut north through woods to join the Upland Trail. We broke trail alongside the Upland Trail because it had been groomed for cross country skiing and we did not want to disturb the tracks. The Upland Trail led us to its junction with the Sauk Point Trail which took us across Hwy 113/DL and up to Sauk Point, the "summit" of Sauk County, and then down into the Parfrey's Glen canyon. The Sauk Point Trail was boot-tracked for about a half-mile from Hwy 113/DL, but then became untracked and heavily drifted for a long section, before eventually becoming fairly well tracked again for the remainder of the way to Parfrey's, starting a half-mile or so West of the trail's junction with Solum Lane.

Above right: Todd feeling confident midway through the day.

Below: Todd feeling the cold on our break.

We arrived at Parfrey's shortly after sunset, and decided to take a half-hour break in order to eat and hyrate. After our break we set off under the light of the full moon, and the glow from the lights at Devil's Head being reflected by the clouds. I figured it was best to conserve batteries in my headlamp since Todd had neglected to bring his. We were making good time and put about a mile behind us on the return leg of the hike when I started limping. First my left knee, and then my right, which prompted Todd to ask, "Are you limping?"

"Yes, but it will go away in a few steps." I replied, and it did, but then it came back along with some audible clues like deep, deliberate exhalation, and what can only be described as the sound of a low-frequency/pitch horse nay.

"You're not looking so good." offered Todd.

"I'll be fine, I...just...have...to...walk...it..." I forced out in a breath-held crescendo punctuated by a final burst of air seeming to drive the word, "...OFF!" out in what seemed like the climax of some victorious struggle to speak without collapsing.

"We need to go back to Parfrey's and call someone for a ride." Todd thought aloud.

"But, who? Coach? Suzanne? Marc and Lollie? Susan? A taxi service in Baraboo?" I responded. "I'll text Jay for Coach's number."

"Good, let's start hiking back down." said Todd.

"Okay." I said, taking a step, "Hey, they don't hurt anymore, I can keep going." five uphill steps later, "No I can't." flopped out in an exasperated tone.

Jay got back to me with Coach's number, and I figured he was the best choice for a rescue because he would probably get a kick out of the whole thing. To my dismay Coach was out and the only answer was his machine, I didn't leave a message. Next I texted Suzanne, who was not in the Baraboo area, and unfortunately neither was Susan she informed me. A phone call to Marc and Lollie was next, but it was busy. More texts exchanged with Suzanne trying to find a solution, but none was forthcoming. Finally Todd called a taxi service in Baraboo, and they were less than helpful even when Todd explained the situation to them. So we continued down, and I fashioned a pair of makeshift walking sticks to aid me on the trip. I called Marc and Lollie again, but it was still busy, I tried coach again and again got the machine, but I left a message this time, "Coach, it's James, give me a call sometime, well actually tonight if you could. I'm at Parfrey's Glen, and I can't walk, well I can, just not very well. I'll be okay, I'm with my buddy Todd, and we're prepared for the weather." Reading this now, it sounds horrifying, but I'm pretty sure the near laughter in my voice told another story. At this point there wasn't much else to do but laugh at the absurdity of the situation, I was after all in need of a rescue from a harrowing epic at a State Park. One more call to Marc and Lollie, and we got an answer. Marc was on his way and we were saved.

Broken, but all smiles because it's over.