PA Wilds: Backpacking Moshannon State Forest

Sometime last week, my husband looked at the forecast and identified Monday and Tuesday as potential backpacking days. We've had so much rain of late, nearly every day, it seems. But it was to clear out, and then the temps were to drop. It looked like Monday night was our best bet. 

We decided that, rather than go somewhere further away, we'd head back to Moshannon State Forest, which is not far, and try to find a new campsite somewhere around a site we used to use in the old days. They'd lumbered some of that area in the meantime, and we stopped going there. Something like 10 years had passed: maybe it was time to go back, check things out?

So Monday morning found us packing up our gear: backpacks, sleeping bags, ground sheets, tents, pads, blankets, and what-not. I made us a couple of ham and cheese sandwiches; he grabbed an open bag of chips. We packed the coolers and were in the car by shortly after noon.

As we approached our parking spot, which is the same one we use when we backpack to that other Moshannon State Forest campsite that really kicked our butts last time (read THAT story here and here), I started to feel a phobia coming on. Dread gathered in my gut, twisted me up: "If you make me do THAT HIKE again, I'm going to explode, and all of the skin will fly off of my body!" I threatened.

But we didn't do that backpack again, thank goodness. We packed up our gear, and went from a trail to a trail to an old logging road that meandered about through green woods and some nice views. Eventually, after a short hike, it opened up into a clearing that was green and grassy, with some lovely little pine trees that looked . . . almost fluffy.

Now, it's been quite a few years since we found and broke in a new campsite. There are things to think about: What are the best flat spots? Where can we hang things (like clothes, and lanterns)? Which tent goes where?

We don't usually camp out in the open like this, but the site was too appealing to turn down. We'd had a frost warning for our area for Monday night, and while it was breezy and cloudy when we got there, we expected that eventually the sky would clear, and the bottom would drop out. How cold did we think it would get? I guessed 38 degrees F, and my husband guessed 35 degrees.

For once, my husband picked his site out and instantly set up his ground sheet and tent on it. He pointed out a second flat area to me, and I went over and checked it out; decided that the soft mossy area was indeed a decent spot; put down my ground sheet, and put up my tent. 

I felt clumsy, awkward; it has been a while since I put up my tent in an unfamiliar site. It involved some crawling around on the ground, once the ground sheet was down, removing little sticks and acorns, all that stuff that will drive you nuts overnight, not unlike the tale of the princess and the pea.

It was quite breezy, and we kept waiting for the sky to clear so the sun could warm us up. The high on Monday was probably 64 degrees, but most of that day, it was a breezy 59 or so. Not awfully warm, and not overly sunny either, but nice. A few biting flies, but while they landed on us, they didn't seem to be biting yet.

You may see our tents in the photo above; that's mine closest to the camera, and his further away, out in the field. Look at all those little greenies, those wonderful little trees! We sat in our chairs by my tent for the evening, set it up as our base of operations. We acted like my husband's tent was his bachelor pad: he'd go there when it was time to sleep, but not really hang out there much in the meantime.

It is my custom to put my tent stakes down, no matter how hard the ground. On our first backpack this year, the ground was still frozen solid, and I couldn't really get them in. On our second backpack to Pine Glen (read that story here and here), it was fine. This one was also fine. 

My husband gave up on tent stakes about 5 years ago, and what a surprise it was when we both looked over to see his tent, with all of his gear in it, rolling away from us in the stiff breeze! Out came the tent stakes; no more rolling for the tent.

We have often commented how few birds we see and hear in the woods, but this place was different. It is an edge habitat, and it was chock full of birds, singing their hearts out. As evening began to arrive, we heard a familiar treat: the song of the whip-poor-will! 

"It's time to go barefoot!" I announced to my husband; it's an Appalachian belief, that the whip-poor-will's song tells when the time of year for barefootin' has arrived (though for big sister Barb, barefootin' time was all year long!). How delightful! We had not heard such a bird in quite some time and it was really neat to hear it singing its old familiar song. It rang beautifully off the hills.

I looked at the vegetation around me and took many photos. The bushes to the right, behind my tent, are all berry bushes; in a month or two, they'll be chock full of what the locals call "huckleberries." I'd be surprised if a bear or two didn't show up to sample them when they turn fat and juicy and sweet. Tight buds of mountain laurel (Kalmia latifolia) are getting ready to burst open. Interesting patterns of mosses are everywhere; as Thoreau said, Heaven is under our feet.

Around 7 p.m. or so, the sky cleared and the sun came out, and the temperature began dropping like a lead balloon. We kept putting on layers, and we stayed up as long as we could, which wasn't that long at all for me at all. I was in my tent by 10:30, and what a star show there was overhead! My husband sat up in his chair another half-hour, enchanted by the open sky, before he went into his tent, too.

I think I'll leave our intrepid backpackers right there, and tell you the rest of the tale tomorrow. I'll try to put a set of photos on Instagram at some point so you can see many more than the one or two allowed on blip! So for now, that's part 1 of our backpacking tale. Tune in tomorrow for part 2!

As for our soundtrack song, let's let it be dedicated to my husband's tent, which at a certain point, with the wind's help, took out on its own! The tune is Bob Seger, with Roll Me Away.