Lemon, Ramen Noodles?

Before Husband and I started dating we hung out a lot. We did everything together. We were, and still are, best friends. Husband took me on my first backpacking trip. All it took was one time and I was hooked.

In high school Husband used to backpack with a group of friends to a place called Mumford Bar. Mumford has a long and sordid history. It is situated along the river and was once a mining claim. Now it serves various purposes though it's not frequently used. Legend has it that Old Man Beatie (not sure of the spelling) moved his family down there and his wife went somewhat mad from the isolation. So he started hiking them out but they were too slow. So he left them down there where they died. I believe it's haunted. I've seen way too much weird shit there. It's either haunted or there are hill people living in the woods.

The trail to Mumford Bar is three and a half miles long and descends over three thousand feet. For you math wizards that's about a thousand feet per mile. Steep. It's okay on the way down because, well, you're going down. (Something I'm particularly fond of, but that's for another time.) The hike out kills you though. Switchback after switchback, you reach a point where you think it's not going to end. Why you ask would I put myself through the torture? The reward, my friends, is isolation in one of the most beautiful places I've ever been.

When you reach the bottom it's like you walk into a circus tent of green. The forest canopy is so dense and moss covers everything around you, it almost hurts your eyes. The forest hasn't been logged or really touched since probably the late 1800's. I've never seen another person down there, no one I wasn't with anyway. The river changes with the seasons. Sometimes it's so loud you have to shout to have a conversation. Other times it meanders over the rocks, lazily flowing through the canyon. It's just an amazing place, indescribably beautiful. But it's a hell of a hike and just beats on your body.

Husband really wanted me to go with him to see Mumford Bar, so we planned a weekend trip. We had a friend who was selling his backpack so Husband bought it for me. This was in 1998 and I still use that pack to this day, it's a great pack. We packed up some food and what we needed for the weekend and headed out. Husband was certain he would catch fish, so we were counting on eating that one night. This was my first trip and I was not very sure of what to pack or how much, so feeling somewhat unprepared I began the grueling three hour hike.

When we got to the bottom we found a wonderful place to set up camp. It was right near the river and had a perfect place to cook and a flat spot for the tent. Perfect! We'd purchased some freeze-dried meals, which are yuck by the way, and I was all excited to cook and have the whole backpacking experience. At that time we didn't have a water filter so we relied on boiling the water to clean it. That works okay, but investing in a filter was the best thing we did.

Husband caught no fish. He was very disappointed because he felt such a strong need to provide for me and was really concerned that I was going hungry. It was very sweet. By the end of the weekend we had one package of ramen noodles, powdered eggs, and a lemon. I made the "eggs" for breakfast and found them to be inedible. So gross. Do yourself a favor and do not ever eat powdered eggs. Husband wasn't especially fond of them either, and was still starving after we ate. The problem was that we had a really long and difficult hike ahead of us. Climbing over three thousand feet in three miles takes a while, and we wanted to have more energy to do it. But alas, we had limited provisions and just had to suck it up.

Before we left our camp I watched in awe as Husband ate an entire lemon peel and all. He was so hungry he ate a lemon. I still laugh at that. We hiked and hiked for hours until the pains in my stomach were too much to take. We pulled the package of ramen out, split it in half and gobbled up the dry noodles in the middle of the trail. That was enough to give us the energy we needed to finish the hike. I won't lie, I was miserable. I was tired, my legs hurt, I was starving, felt like I was going to vomit, miserable. But I made it through and the trail did finally come to an end. My heart sprang up at the site of the truck waiting for us. Once I got my pack off and sat down for a second I did start puking. Nothing serious, just from hunger and over-exertion.

We stopped at the first gas station we came to and Husband got some beer. A tip to backpackers, always leave a couple of beers in the truck in an ice chest so you can drink them when you're done hiking. It makes life so much better. Our next mission was food. What do you suppose I was craving? Ah, sweet sweet Whopper with cheese. Fortunately when it comes to Whoppers Husband and I share a brain. We found the next Burger King and got our heart's desire. It was the best Whopper I'd ever eaten and I relished each bite, practically making love to it.

That first backpacking experience prompted me to pursue the art of gourmet trail cooking. Since then we've taken countless trips and I have mastered the cooking. I'm the designated camp cook, always. I love it too, it's great to figure out how to convert meals from home to trail. We have much better equipment now, which really helps. But from the first trip I couldn't get enough. To be able to pack into complete isolation with everything you need on your back is the best feeling of independence and freedom. It's also great exercise.