Not a creature was stirring...

As busy and hectic as the holiday season seems to be, one would understand if your “outdoor” traditions slip by the wayside. Succumbing to a landslide of festivities and obligations, so often the annual New Year’s Eve camping excursion or Thanksgiving Day float trip get subbed out for dinner at Uncle Frank’s or drinks at the in-laws.

It happens, people.

I love to #optoutside as much as anyone but the bigger our family gets (and the more they spread out around the country), the more precious the holiday times become. Down to the minutes, even.

I still keep fighting it though, finding every chance to steal away to woods or trails. Not to get away from the family time but rather just to keep a little balance. Somehow, not sure how, I have managed to keep a couple of priceless holiday traditions alive. The first one is an annual mountain bike ride on Thanksgiving Day, ten years running now. It’s taken some flexibility but I’m certain all would agree it’s been worth it. A lot can change in a year, much less ten. The friends I go with were all close when we started. Now everyone has moved or their situations have changed. The annual ride is the only time some of us see each other anymore.

Then there is Black Friday, a day that our family has spent outside for the past five years. Let’s be honest, that is a straight-up win and an easy sale for my crew.

Another tradition takes place the day after Christmas. This past week, on a particularly cold post-Christmas morning, I laced up the trailrunners and loaded up the dog well before daybreak. It’s something I have done for years. Huddled in the front seat with a cup of coffee and a small opening through the frosty windshield, I cruised to a local state park trailhead. Upon exiting and pushing the door shut, I was immediately reminded of one small treasure of such ventures.

There wasn’t another car, not another sound.

My panting dog was the only thing moving, shaking with anticipation and wondering what was taking me so long. And so off we went, enjoying all the usual facets of trail time one finds so redeeming – paths by the lake, stands of evergreens, bird songs and a rising sun. Two hours and ten miles later, we emerged both better off for having gone. Both of us ready to return to the festivities.

Even then, ours was still the only car around. It impressed on me just how important these little traditions are. For all the typical reasons, yes, but even more so because of what it offers in contrast to the holidays – calm, quiet and solitude. Three things in short supply this time of the year.

Going more for less

For the past decade or so, I have prioritized making a pilgrimage out West each year. And believe me, that’s not an easy thing to commit to.

Growing up on this side of the Mississippi River meant summoning a concerted effort to avoid falling into typical “vacay” migration patterns. Summers always meant Myrtle Beach or somewhere near there, outdoor vacations were reserved for the Smoky Mountains, and then once or twice per childhood families would save their money for a trip to Disney. Outside of a few local lakes and theme parks, those were the options.

As much as I loved my home state, a lot of these national parks and mountains I kept seeing in the magazines….well, they were far away.

Really far away.

But I knew I wanted to go, so I just had to figure out how. So, I started the plans. After deciding that we were going to venture out to the Grand Canyon, my wife and I mobilized. We booked a guide, booked a flight, booked a hotel room, and booked it down to Phoenix. We were gone for a week, three of those nights in a tent below the rim. It was everything we thought it would be. We returned home tired, weary, and blissfully happy.

We also returned home broke. One other thing we quickly realized – the trips were expensive.

If we wanted to make a habit of the travel we loved, we had to find other ways. And we did.

Since then I’ve been back every year, sometimes twice a year. In preparation, I’m reminded of some pointers I read in an article about getting outside more – 1) save your money for plane tickets, 2) trade going bigger for going more often.

I set the price limit at $300 if I was going by myself and $500 if we took the whole family. Setting those limits makes going more obtainable, less audacious. When we first started trying to plan and stay under those budgets, the travel mostly included cross-country drives. Although I still love to do them and I’ve endured several of them, time spent driving is definitely a trade-off. It means less time outside “doing” things. Also, there are those that don’t (always) enjoy the vast amounts of time on the road. That can drain the spirit of a trip quickly.

Now with the expansion of offerings from economical airlines (i.e. Frontier, Allegiant), flying is firmly back in play. With regular flights to outdoor western hubs like Denver and Las Vegas, one can easily find round-trip tickets for less than $150.

With a little research and reading, one can find out nearly everything they need to about an area or a trail before heading there. One can also read first-person accounts and learn common pitfalls, thus making them avoidable. It’s all out there and the ability to access it means you can be good at being your own guide. (Guide or No Guide – that’s a conversation for another time) Although there are certainly times where I have needed a guide and enjoyed what they offered, there are also times where I thought, “If I do this again, I can do it on my own.” For me, guides have either added a level of security (on technical trips or ones into unknown areas) or added a layer of comfort (on groups trips).

The goal was always to go more often and learning to reduce the financial need was one big key to that. When I got back from my second trip to Colorado this summer, folks I talked to thought I had saved for years to go. Going twice in one summer seemed unfathomable. Then I explained my upcoming mountain-climbing trip with friends like this:

Airfare to Denver - $175

Campsite - $35 each person

Car Rental - $45 each person

Gas - $20 per person

Food - $25

They are always stunned at how inexpensive it can be.

And so am I, really.

-       JW

The Copperas Falls

I have a green map out on the table, one I bought back in the late 90's. One of the first Internet purchases I can remember making, it is now held together with strips of clear tape. Luckily, Christmas is right around the corner and the tape dispensers seem to be on every counter and night stand in our house. The map is heavily creased into nine distinct squares and gives a nice topographical look at the Red River Gorge that includes the Sheltowee Trace Trail section north of the area's famous suspension bridge. Some of the Gorge's heavy hitters are in this area - Indian Staircase, Cloudsplitter. No wonder I used this map so much. It also traces the Red River, running like a ribbon tucked in between the towering cliffs.

It also encompasses the Copperas Creek area. Like the map on the my table, this creek is also a preferred choice of mine. It drops into the Red River from the north and when followed back up through its valley, will lead you to one of the best waterfalls Kentucky has to offer.

The Copperas Creek waterfall is an anomaly of sorts. As far as distance goes, it is not a long way off of the beaten path or even the paved roads. But there are no trails to it, at least not official ones, and over the years I can recall numerous parties to whom I gave detailed directions to and yet they never made it there. On the other hand, some people make it there the first try and once you visit the site, it is fairly easy to make it back. One can't simply say to follow the creek, even though this seems like a rational method. If you're going to find a waterfall, you would think you could simply backtrack up the creek until you run into the falls. The unfortunate part is that the creek splits off multiple times and when there are heavy rain falls, impromptu creeks appear from the valleys and the hollows, making it nearly impossible to discern which branch is the main creek and will hold the desired path.

Several other items make it a hazy journey as well.

Although there is no official trail, there lies one fairly prominent unofficial one, yet it is beset on all sides by splintered side trails lying in wait to lead its occupants astray if one should choose to follow them. I recall telling these same things to the minister in town, and him telling me there was definitely a sermon in the making in there somewhere.

Furthermore, as peaceful a place as it is, Copperas Creek was not unlike the other valleys in the gorge whereby its landscape changed dramatically with the seasons. Over the years, I have visited the area in all types of weather, from the summer equinox to the middle of Persephone's dissent. I have been there when it was completely iced up and I have visited during the dry seasons when the falls were just a trickle.

Summertime it is a leafy, green jungle and a permanent buzz hangs over your head with every step. In the dead of winter, the forest is quiet and brittle and it reveals itself to those who pay attention so that no matter how familiar, each trip reveals new intricacies.

Even when you plot the coordinates on a map, they don’t go where one would think they go.

I had friends, who heard me talk of the place, call to get the data one day. I gave them the locations, the landmarks, and maps. Then I ran into to them two days later where they promptly reported that an injury turned them back and they never made it to the falls. I had some family attempt to find it, and they started back to the car after they were forced to cross the creek for the tenth time.

Then others make it effortlessly. There remains no rhyme or reason. It’s like it has a mind of its own, and can make it impossible or it can make it a walk in the park. It is a wonderful mystery I have come to love but accept, like trying to understand why the mixer messed the TV picture up when I was a kid. 

It has, without question, become my favorite place on Earth. And over the years I have come to realize the only thing I love more than going there is taking some else there for the first time. Tomorrow I will go back there again. And again, I will take someone along who is going for the first time. I wonder what will be revealed this trip. I have often thought one could easily lose themselves in that place. 

Luckily I have this map.

-JW