Booze and Boos

I've always been a guy who needs to get outside to break away from the concrete and the noise and just let the woods remind me what quiet really feels like. I'm not really the type who does it for Instagram or tell people that I escaped to nature on the weekends. I need it like I need sleep.

I've always been a guy who needs to get outside to break away from the concrete and the noise and just let the woods remind me what quiet really feels like. I'm not really the type who does it for Instagram or tell people that I escaped to nature on the weekends. I need it like I need sleep.

That's probably why I was all ears when my buddy Tyler told me about a creek on the backside of a ridge around two hours from where I live. According to him, no one went back there anymore. That old trail was basically erased when a service road was built a few years back, and people just forgot about it, which to me sounded like a gift from God.

That's probably why I was all ears when my buddy Tyler told me about a creek on the backside of a ridge around two hours from where I live. According to him, no one went back there anymore. That old trail was basically erased when a service road was built a few years back, and people just forgot about it, which to me sounded like a gift from God.

So, Tyler is the kind of guy who's always brimming with half-baked plans and back pocket shortcuts, so I had him lay it all out for me. He promised if I followed his directions exactly, I'd end up at the kind of fishing hole people would daydream about. Deep pools, overhanging willows, shaded banks. No tourists, no hikers, no boot prints in the mud.

So, Tyler is the kind of guy who's always brimming with half-baked plans and back pocket shortcuts, so I had him lay it all out for me. He promised if I followed his directions exactly, I'd end up at the kind of fishing hole people would daydream about. Deep pools, overhanging willows, shaded banks. No tourists, no hikers, no boot prints in the mud.

It would be me, the water, and that kind of quiet you only get in a place where the world's overlooked. So I spent Friday night packing up my gear, fishing rod, small tackle box, a couple of sandwiches, a water, and a .45 that I carry when I'm inside remote areas, and the rest of the standard odds and ends you would need.

It would be me, the water, and that kind of quiet you only get in a place where the world's overlooked. So I spent Friday night packing up my gear, fishing rod, small tackle box, a couple of sandwiches, a water, and a .45 that I carry when I'm inside remote areas, and the rest of the standard odds and ends you would need.

I'm not a prepper or anything, but I've done enough solo hikes to know you don't really mess around with this kind of stuff. You gotta plan for a good time, but prepare for a bad one. Saturday morning came. The sky was a kind of clear blue that practically begs you to hit the road. The drive out there was pretty uneventful, though.

I'm not a prepper or anything, but I've done enough solo hikes to know you don't really mess around with this kind of stuff. You gotta plan for a good time, but prepare for a bad one. Saturday morning came. The sky was a kind of clear blue that practically begs you to hit the road. The drive out there was pretty uneventful, though.

Just me rolling through backcountry highways, an old barn sliding past me, the occasional deer crossing sign, of course, and just that gnawing excitement that comes before a new adventure. I hit that last turnoff that Tyler had mentioned to me, a gravel pullout near the edge of a tree line. Sure enough, there was this old slope leading down.

Just me rolling through backcountry highways, an old barn sliding past me, the occasional deer crossing sign, of course, and just that gnawing excitement that comes before a new adventure. I hit that last turnoff that Tyler had mentioned to me, a gravel pullout near the edge of a tree line. Sure enough, there was this old slope leading down.

No signs, no markers, just the faint depression of a trail that had been there long before that road had. I parked and did a quick check on my gear and started down it. The sun was filtering through the pines and long fingers, that kind of dance on your skin and make you forget for a second that you're heading inside a place that doesn't really care if you come back from.

No signs, no markers, just the faint depression of a trail that had been there long before that road had. I parked and did a quick check on my gear and started down it. The sun was filtering through the pines and long fingers, that kind of dance on your skin and make you forget for a second that you're heading inside a place that doesn't really care if you come back from.

There was also this certain thrill to it. Sure, being out there where people don't go anymore, where cell phone signal dies and the only sounds you hear are the wind and the birds. But that's the point, isn't it? No one to bother me, no one to bother with me either. The trail actually looked better than I expected it to.

There was also this certain thrill to it. Sure, being out there where people don't go anymore, where cell phone signal dies and the only sounds you hear are the wind and the birds. But that's the point, isn't it? No one to bother me, no one to bother with me either. The trail actually looked better than I expected it to.

It was narrow, sure, but packed dirt and a few old switchbacks, and a constant downhill grade that lets you know you're leaving the familiar behind you. I moved at a steady pace, a heart light, a sharp. Somewhere below that creek waited for me like a secret. I'd been on the trail for maybe 45 minutes when I hit the first switchback. The descent was steady, but nothing too punishing.

It was narrow, sure, but packed dirt and a few old switchbacks, and a constant downhill grade that lets you know you're leaving the familiar behind you. I moved at a steady pace, a heart light, a sharp. Somewhere below that creek waited for me like a secret. I'd been on the trail for maybe 45 minutes when I hit the first switchback. The descent was steady, but nothing too punishing.

No need for trekking poles or careful footwork. Pines flanked on both sides, their needles softening the ground, the air nice and cool and clean. Birds chattered overhead and for a while, I let myself sink back into that rhythm, one bootfall after another, red tube gently knocking against my pack. Now, around two miles in, things changed.

No need for trekking poles or careful footwork. Pines flanked on both sides, their needles softening the ground, the air nice and cool and clean. Birds chattered overhead and for a while, I let myself sink back into that rhythm, one bootfall after another, red tube gently knocking against my pack. Now, around two miles in, things changed.