Wild Woods LbNA #26503
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Add Location| Owner: | Meandering Melee  |
|---|---|
| Plant date: | Oct 14, 2006 |
| Location: | |
| City: | Antigo |
| County: | Langlade |
| State: | Wisconsin |
| Boxes: | 1 |
| Found by: | Snow Cat |
|---|---|
| Last found: | Sep 26, 2009 |
| Status: | FFF |
| Last edited: | Oct 14, 2006 |
Terrain – mostly flat
Distance – 2 to 2½ miles
We recommend taking some extra time to walk some of the other trail loops and enjoying the many wildlife viewing areas. But be wary!! A trail map can be downloaded at: http://www.co.langlade.wi.us/Jack%20Lake%20X-C%20Trail%20Map%20and%20Description%202007.pdf
“Founded in 1878 by Civil War veterans Francis Deleglise and George Eckart, Antigo was known to local native Americans as "wild woods", a term still applicable today given the area's bountiful wild areas” (http://www.antigo-city.org/).
The Melee decided to camp out for the night at the Veteran’s Memorial Park and spend some time meandering around the Jack Lake Cross Country ski trails about 12 miles north of Antigo. Tonight it was Dad with the three young ones and a friend they brought along. There are miles of trails and some nice wildlife viewing areas. “What a great place to plant a letterbox!!”, we thought, a letterbox to commemorate the Wild Woods. We unpacked our tent and unloaded our gear at the campground. SNOW!!, on the ground in mid October!! Maybe a hotel for tonight. No, we’re letterboxers, a slightly more insane breed of outdoors people, we can take it. “Five thirty”, I said, “It’ll be dark soon. Let’s get going.” We loaded up and headed off back up the road to the trailhead. We parked, put on a couple extra layers, loaded up the rucksack and headed out to the left of the trailhead sign to find the start of the trail. We crossed around the locked gate near the start of the trail. Who was the gate really for? Was it for our safety? After all, these are Wild Woods!
We turned right at the first sign. We were on the Green Thumb loop. We hiked on. Wow, who turned out the lights? Five forty-five, it shouldn’t be this dark yet. The fading sun, only barely visible through the naked branches of the trees, was creating a very ominous scene. We walked on, avoiding the puddles and mud patches. A hike in wet and muddy feet can become very unenjoyable fast, especially in this cold. What is it, 30 degrees? I’m writing notes while walking in the dark. Pass the quaking aspen, pass a sign for a balsam fir, come to intersection for Koepenick Loop. “Which way kids?” We look at our trail map. “Let’s stay on the Green thumb loop”, they agreed. Ok, moving on. More notes, come to another intersection, bench on left. “Let’s sit for a minute, its been one mile.” No argument. “What do we want to do guys?” I ask. “It’s been one mile, that means one mile back or a mile and a half to finish the route if we continue on and turn at the outhouses.” “Mile and a half”, they agreed. “OK, but we need to plant the letterbox before it gets any darker or we won’t be able to see anything for clues”. “Right here”, one pointed out, “under the corner of this big rock”. “Good place”, I agreed, twenty paces beyond the bench on the left side of the trail was a great big boulder. People on skis could even get it without much difficulty and I always enjoy being able to sit on a bench while stamping in.
We spend about 10 more minutes resting as I finish making notes and repacking everything. It got a lot darker in those ten short minutes. We got set to go just as the first sounds of the Wild Woods could be heard in the distance. Coyotes, but no one said anything. Maybe they didn’t hear them. After about a minute, “Did you hear that?”, I heard one ask, followed by a couple of muffled “yeah”s. “All right, once more, a mile back or mile and a half forward?”, I asked. “MILE BACK!!” It was unanimous. The kids all had their logical reasons for not pushing forward. “We are already familiar with the trail going back so we won’t miss any turns”, one said. “It’s getting too late”, was another one’s reason. Is it really that late? It’s only 6:30, I thought, looks like eleven though. “Let’s go back”, I said.
The trail looks different. Maybe it’s because now we’re looking at it from a different direction, or maybe because it’s darker. There’s more howling, this time a lot more of it and louder. Wow the kids are really stepping it out I think proudly. Why are they all hanging on to me? “I think its wolves”, I hear one say. “No, probably only coyotes, they won’t bother us”, I reassure them. More howling and yelping, it sounds really close, and it sounds like a whole lot of them. “Probably a family of coyotes”, I say, “a mom and dad and lots of little ones.” I try to alleviate their fears as I pick up a rather large branch and break off some of the smaller branches. Good grip and nice swing, I think to myself. “Good walking stick”, I say to the kids. (The kids tell Mom later that I was holding the stick like a rifle. Always at the ready.)
I continue to assure the kids that coyotes are curious animals and might come to check out what we are but they only eat mice and small rabbits and would never bother a person. “They are more scared of us than us of them”, I tell them. Are they really? I imagine the headlines about the newly discovered Jack Lake Coyotes, the ones that travel in packs devouring groups of people and carrying off small children. Future headlines will talk of brave souls who sacrificed their lives in search of a little rubber stamp, only to find out that the stamp doesn’t exist anymore. The coyotes were attracted to our scent on the box and devoured that as well. Maybe this breed likes Rubbermaid and camo duct tape. I pull the youngest one in closer thinking it’ll be harder for them to drag away the bigger kids as fast.
“Puddle, mud hole!!”, I say. No one seems to care about wet or muddy feet anymore. We were so cautious on the way in. The moonlight reflects off the puddles as a warning to us, yet for the kids it means we are still on the trail. It seems like its been more than a mile already. Was that a twig snapping, or maybe a smiling Jack Lake coyote smacking his lips. “Look, it’s the gate”, they shout!! We’re pretty much at a full run now.
I use the remote to unlock the minivan. How long have I had the keys out? I think I pulled them out subconsciously at some point to be ready to toss to the kids while yelling “save yourselves”, as I battled off the coyotes. I never heard the doors open but I heard them all slam shut awfully fast. I stand at the back of the van with the door open, putting away the pack and shedding a few layers. “What if they attack the van”? I hear one ask. “They never would”, I said as I looked to make sure the stick was still leaning against the side. More research later might indicate that the Jack Lake Coyote could easily chew through fiberglass and sheet metal.
We get back to our campsite, grill some hotdogs over the fire and prepare to bed down for the night. “Shouldn’t we put out the fire?”, one asks. I’ve taught them well when it comes respecting nature and fire safety. “Not tonight”, I say. Hopefully the Jack Lake Coyotes are afraid of fire.
Distance – 2 to 2½ miles
We recommend taking some extra time to walk some of the other trail loops and enjoying the many wildlife viewing areas. But be wary!! A trail map can be downloaded at: http://www.co.langlade.wi.us/Jack%20Lake%20X-C%20Trail%20Map%20and%20Description%202007.pdf
“Founded in 1878 by Civil War veterans Francis Deleglise and George Eckart, Antigo was known to local native Americans as "wild woods", a term still applicable today given the area's bountiful wild areas” (http://www.antigo-city.org/).
The Melee decided to camp out for the night at the Veteran’s Memorial Park and spend some time meandering around the Jack Lake Cross Country ski trails about 12 miles north of Antigo. Tonight it was Dad with the three young ones and a friend they brought along. There are miles of trails and some nice wildlife viewing areas. “What a great place to plant a letterbox!!”, we thought, a letterbox to commemorate the Wild Woods. We unpacked our tent and unloaded our gear at the campground. SNOW!!, on the ground in mid October!! Maybe a hotel for tonight. No, we’re letterboxers, a slightly more insane breed of outdoors people, we can take it. “Five thirty”, I said, “It’ll be dark soon. Let’s get going.” We loaded up and headed off back up the road to the trailhead. We parked, put on a couple extra layers, loaded up the rucksack and headed out to the left of the trailhead sign to find the start of the trail. We crossed around the locked gate near the start of the trail. Who was the gate really for? Was it for our safety? After all, these are Wild Woods!
We turned right at the first sign. We were on the Green Thumb loop. We hiked on. Wow, who turned out the lights? Five forty-five, it shouldn’t be this dark yet. The fading sun, only barely visible through the naked branches of the trees, was creating a very ominous scene. We walked on, avoiding the puddles and mud patches. A hike in wet and muddy feet can become very unenjoyable fast, especially in this cold. What is it, 30 degrees? I’m writing notes while walking in the dark. Pass the quaking aspen, pass a sign for a balsam fir, come to intersection for Koepenick Loop. “Which way kids?” We look at our trail map. “Let’s stay on the Green thumb loop”, they agreed. Ok, moving on. More notes, come to another intersection, bench on left. “Let’s sit for a minute, its been one mile.” No argument. “What do we want to do guys?” I ask. “It’s been one mile, that means one mile back or a mile and a half to finish the route if we continue on and turn at the outhouses.” “Mile and a half”, they agreed. “OK, but we need to plant the letterbox before it gets any darker or we won’t be able to see anything for clues”. “Right here”, one pointed out, “under the corner of this big rock”. “Good place”, I agreed, twenty paces beyond the bench on the left side of the trail was a great big boulder. People on skis could even get it without much difficulty and I always enjoy being able to sit on a bench while stamping in.
We spend about 10 more minutes resting as I finish making notes and repacking everything. It got a lot darker in those ten short minutes. We got set to go just as the first sounds of the Wild Woods could be heard in the distance. Coyotes, but no one said anything. Maybe they didn’t hear them. After about a minute, “Did you hear that?”, I heard one ask, followed by a couple of muffled “yeah”s. “All right, once more, a mile back or mile and a half forward?”, I asked. “MILE BACK!!” It was unanimous. The kids all had their logical reasons for not pushing forward. “We are already familiar with the trail going back so we won’t miss any turns”, one said. “It’s getting too late”, was another one’s reason. Is it really that late? It’s only 6:30, I thought, looks like eleven though. “Let’s go back”, I said.
The trail looks different. Maybe it’s because now we’re looking at it from a different direction, or maybe because it’s darker. There’s more howling, this time a lot more of it and louder. Wow the kids are really stepping it out I think proudly. Why are they all hanging on to me? “I think its wolves”, I hear one say. “No, probably only coyotes, they won’t bother us”, I reassure them. More howling and yelping, it sounds really close, and it sounds like a whole lot of them. “Probably a family of coyotes”, I say, “a mom and dad and lots of little ones.” I try to alleviate their fears as I pick up a rather large branch and break off some of the smaller branches. Good grip and nice swing, I think to myself. “Good walking stick”, I say to the kids. (The kids tell Mom later that I was holding the stick like a rifle. Always at the ready.)
I continue to assure the kids that coyotes are curious animals and might come to check out what we are but they only eat mice and small rabbits and would never bother a person. “They are more scared of us than us of them”, I tell them. Are they really? I imagine the headlines about the newly discovered Jack Lake Coyotes, the ones that travel in packs devouring groups of people and carrying off small children. Future headlines will talk of brave souls who sacrificed their lives in search of a little rubber stamp, only to find out that the stamp doesn’t exist anymore. The coyotes were attracted to our scent on the box and devoured that as well. Maybe this breed likes Rubbermaid and camo duct tape. I pull the youngest one in closer thinking it’ll be harder for them to drag away the bigger kids as fast.
“Puddle, mud hole!!”, I say. No one seems to care about wet or muddy feet anymore. We were so cautious on the way in. The moonlight reflects off the puddles as a warning to us, yet for the kids it means we are still on the trail. It seems like its been more than a mile already. Was that a twig snapping, or maybe a smiling Jack Lake coyote smacking his lips. “Look, it’s the gate”, they shout!! We’re pretty much at a full run now.
I use the remote to unlock the minivan. How long have I had the keys out? I think I pulled them out subconsciously at some point to be ready to toss to the kids while yelling “save yourselves”, as I battled off the coyotes. I never heard the doors open but I heard them all slam shut awfully fast. I stand at the back of the van with the door open, putting away the pack and shedding a few layers. “What if they attack the van”? I hear one ask. “They never would”, I said as I looked to make sure the stick was still leaning against the side. More research later might indicate that the Jack Lake Coyote could easily chew through fiberglass and sheet metal.
We get back to our campsite, grill some hotdogs over the fire and prepare to bed down for the night. “Shouldn’t we put out the fire?”, one asks. I’ve taught them well when it comes respecting nature and fire safety. “Not tonight”, I say. Hopefully the Jack Lake Coyotes are afraid of fire.