Adventures Out West

So I just had a two-week vacation. I had planned to spend the vacation backpacking with my best friend from college, just the two of us and a 225-mile trail out in Oklahoma and Arkansas. It's funny how sometimes God can set the best-laid plans aside and give you an entirely unanticipated set of situations to deal with.

Things started out ok. I landed in Fort Worth (where Chris lives) on a Friday evening, then we drove up to the western trailhead on Saturday morning. We started the hike from Talihina State Park in Oklahoma and blazed ahead, covering seven strenuous miles in just over two hours. At about mile 6, each of us ran out of water - which was ok, because our trusty trail guide assured us that there would be reliable sources of water at miles 7, 14, and 20. We reached mile 7, and came across a stream bed that was entirely dry except for a shallow, grey, stagnant puddle about the size of a frisbee. Even with a water filter and iodine tablets, we thought that the "water" might be dangerous. Not to be deterred, we pushed ahead with confidence that we'd find a good source of water close to where we planned to camp at mile 15.

After assuming a much slower pace to deal with the impossibly difficult terrain, at mile 10 we found a small stream. It was piddly, but it was running steadily and deep enough that we could use the filter. We took some much needed rest and refilled our water bags, then followed the trail steeply up over a mountain. Between the 95+ degree heat and the sheer exertion of carrying 55 pound packs over boulder fields and through briar patches, we were again out of water at mile 12.5. Again, we hoped that we'd find a stream where the trail guide had a reliable source marked at mile 14. But when we reached that point, we crossed three substantial stream beds, none of which showed any signs of recent life. Desperately thirsty and panicking at the thought that our next "reliable" source of water was at least six miles away, Chris and I set up camp for the evening at mile 15, our planned stopping point for Day 1. It was then that we realized that all of our food was dehydrated. Without water, not only could we not drink, we couldn't cook.

Chris and I are manly men. Neither of us wanted to even hint that we were in a bunch of trouble, but eventually my common sense got the better of my pride. I pointed out to Chris that if these two "reliable" sources were completely dry, it was very, very likely that the sources to our east would also be dry. Even the trail guide had noted that one stretch of the trail went 20 miles without a reliable water source. Given that we could no longer even count on the reliable sources, any effort to hike that stretch of trail would be virtually suicidal. Feeling as though we had no other options, Chris pulled out the cell phone and persuaded his wife to find the spot of a scenic highway that ran closest to the spring at mile 20 so that we could escape the trail.

That night was brutal. We were famished and extremely dehydrated as it was. But on top of that, we knew that there wouldn't be any water for at least another five miles of extremely difficult trail. It was daunting. We got about seven hours of sleep, then steeled ourselves for the task. The next day dawned hotter than blazes. After about two miles of climbing, I realized that I had stopped sweating - a sign of dangerous dehydration. Eventually we came to a point that the trail guide said could be used as a quick escape up to the scenic drive that ran close to the trail. Chris and I decided that if we were up on the road we could ditch our packs and walk on a smooth, if steep and winding, surface. Once on the road and free of the burden of our packs (which we hid in a ditch), we made decent time to the spring at mile 20.

The spring itself was quite a disappointment. Described as "the most reliable source of water on the Oklahoma leg of the Ouachita Trail", it turned out to be no more than a trickle of water from a metal pipe into a very shallow pool the size of one or two hula hoops. The pool itself was littered with dead leaves, dead bugs, and various other debris. But it was all we had. Chris had been without water the longest (almost twenty hours at that point), so I let him get water first. Unfortunately, in addition to the other unpleasantries, it tasted very much like liquid rust. As bad of a shape as Chris was in, dehydration-wise, he could only force himself to drink about one liter of the stuff. I drank two liters.

Finally, Chris's wife arrived to pick us up. A half-hour later, we were enjoying Sonic hamburgers and Route 44s of water as we made our way back to Fort Worth. The next two weeks (which culminated with my departure this morning) were an exercise in making lemonade out of lemons. Each day we did whatever we were inspired to do, from running alongside the Trinity River in downtown Fort Worth, to visiting museums in Dallas, to hitting a Chickasaw casino in Oklahoma, to tubing down the world's shortest river (the Comal) near San Antonio, to visiting with old friends toward Houston, to spending a day back in Abilene where the two of us met and went to college. It turned out to be a wonderful vacation, even if it was entirely different from what I had originally expected.