First Day of Autumn in the Quehanna Wild Area

It was a happy coincidence for us that the first day of autumn arrived with cooler temperatures and a nice breeze. Even colder temperatures were expected overnight, and so my husband and I decided to go on our first camping trip of the season: a car-camp trip to the edge of the Quehanna Wild Area.

We packed our gear into my husband's Chevrolet Impala, for its first camping trip ever. Its roomy back seat and trunk provided plenty of space for all of our stuff: boots and daysacks and tents and sleeping bags and pads and ground sheets and coolers and chairs.

We most often go backpacking when we camp out; but car-camping is the much easier way to do it. You just drive somewhere, toss your camping gear on the ground, and set up camp. When you're done, put it in reverse. Air it out, bag it up, toss it in the back seat, and go!

After a stop for a couple of quick Big Macs and fries, we arrived at our car-camp spot and decided to go on a several-mile hike before setting up our campsite. So down the hill we hiked, heading for a natural cave/grotto we know of.

It had been several years since we'd been there, and the trail was overgrown and covered in huge spider webs, many of which (sadly for both us and the spiders) we broke as we passed through.

We arrived at the bottom to find the creek swollen and high after the summer of endless rain. The hillside was also soaking wet, the ground just saturated. And so it was through mud and moss that we slogged even to try to get close to the creek to cross it.

I gave up looking for a place to cross with my big boots on, and finally just removed the boots and waded across in my bare feet. The rocks were sharp and slippery, and it wasn't any fun at all. But I'm sure it was better than trying to cross the slippery log nearby. (Word to the wise from one who's been there: don't cross the slippery logs.)

It was with relief that I approached shore, and stepped up, only for the muddy, mossy ground to dissolve beneath my foot. I lost purchase and it sent me sliding back into the creek. Careful. Careful. Regain the balance. One more big step UP and I was out of the creek. Hooray for small wins.

But there was no place to stop and dry my feet and put my boots back on. Just a damp hillside of sopping wet mud and moss, ever ready to slide out from under me. So I trod barefoot up that hill, thinking of only TWO things: rattlesnakes, and poison ivy.

The poison ivy, I could clearly see beneath my feet at every step. And as I walked, I felt it scraping my ankles. Great. I wondered if I would end up with poison ivy on the bottoms of my feet. The rattlesnakes, well, they never materialized. Which was probably just as well!

And when I got to the rock where he'd set up his chair, my husband added a third worry to my list: "YOU WALKED BAREFOOT UP THE HILL?" my husband asked, in disbelief. When I replied in the affirmative, he added: "Remember that huge piece of BROKEN GLASS I slashed my brand new boot on years ago? Yeah, that was right up here."

So I guess I was glad (and lucky) that I'd made it safely up that hill in my bare feet. And as soon as I sat down, I whipped out the hand sanitizer and wiped down my feet and lower legs and hands. I didn't know if it would help remove the urushiol oil, but I figured it sure wouldn't hurt! (And as of now: no itches so far!)

We explored the area and revisited old haunts, and reminisced about the old days. Yes, we've been coming to this place for the whole time we've known each other, which is to say 30+ years. I spotted some of the first yellows and golds in the trees and on the ferns, and you may see a shot of some of the first autumn colors above.

Not far from the huge rock where we sat, there's an old foundation made of cinder blocks, a bent metal pitcher, and a battered and rusty old set of box springs for a mattress near the little cave. Years ago, perhaps someone lived here. Maybe in the past there was a road. But not now.

And then finally, it was time to cross the creek again and head back up the hill to set up our campsite before dusk fell. This time, I was smarter, and I wandered along the creek looking for the spot where the animals cross, and I found it.

This is a lesson I have learned: always look for tracks along the creek; the animals will know the best and lowest place to cross. So I crossed easily in my big boots but got the bottom 6 inches or so of my pant legs totally soaked. Oh well, no biggie.

We marched back up the hill and arrived, famished, at our campsite. The Big Macs were long gone, and so we sat down and enjoyed ham and cheese sandwiches and potato chips and iced tea for our supper. Then I set up my tent, and shortly my husband set up his. (He's always the last one up and the first one down; it's just how he's made.)

The car was parked near a tree, and we kept hearing a bird making noises from the tree. Eventually, it sort of flapped at my husband, trying to chase him away. I'm not sure it's still nesting time, but the bird sure wasn't happy with our being there. (The bird gets even less happy; wait till tomorrow's entry for more.)

At some point, the bugling began in the near distance: yes, it was the sound of wild ELK! This is the time of year when they are very active, out looking around for mates. The males bugle and cover lots of ground. We did not see them but we heard quite a few bugles as the sun went down!

And then we watched an astoundingly pink sunset over the Valleys of the Susquehanna, which was followed by one of the most amazing moon shows I've ever seen, complete with a corona and everything. What a fabulous view we had from our campsite at the edge of the Quehanna Wild Area, and what a great start to fall!

I'll tell the rest of the story in tomorrow's entry, but I have one amazing thing to show you first. I have been keeping you apprised of the activities of the seven huge monarch caterpillars who have been chomping down all of the milkweed in our yard.

Well, on Friday, all seven caterpillars (as though they'd received an official memo!) suddenly marched OFF the milkweed and headed to nearby leaves to begin their transformation from caterpillars into butterflies. Just before we left the house Saturday morning, I walked over to the hedge and looked around.

And what did I spy but two of our huge caterpillars attached to hydrangea leaves, hanging upside-down in the J position, which is the official position of monarch transformation!!! It was totally awesome; in fact, it was pure magic! And I took some photos, one of which you may see in the extras.

Now, my husband and I admired the caterpillars in their J's, but we also laughed a little bit about them and started calling them "the J-boys," even though we know some of our monarchs will likely be girls. So let's let the soundtrack for this day be this one, which fits, by Jay and the Americans: This Magic Moment.