Dispatches from Red River Gorge

There are some activities so virile, so stout-hearted that a man’s wife cannot understand his desire to engage in them. How can a man explain to his wife the feeling within him that occassionally drives him into the woods to hike for many miles? In my case, I was unable to communicate it. But there is something about wilderness survival, resourcefulness, and braving the harsh elements of nature that invigorates and incites masculinity.

I would find this urge as odd as my wife had I not observed it to be so ubiquitous in the male species. 

Take for example, Christian philosopher and amateur rock climber, Alvin Plantinga. Seems he identifes well with this desire.

“If mountains were a blessing for me, they were also a bane. The problem was that (during the first couple of decades of our marriage), I was positively obsessed with mountains. At home in Grand Rapids during the close, humid Michigan summer, I would think of the dry, cool, delicious air of the Tetons; that marvelously blue sky pierced by those splendid towers; the wind, the rough feel of Teton granite, the sweep of a steep, exposed ridge below my feet — and I would almost weep. Why was I in Grand Rapids rather than in the mountains? I would be overcome with a sort of yearning, a desperate longing, a Sehnsucht for which the only remedy was going to the mountains. So to the mountains I went. Kathleen had two choices: she could stay home in Grand Rapids and take care of the children alone, or she and the children could come along.”

Henry David Thoreau hints at something like this as well when he says,

“I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately….I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms, and, if it proved to be mean, why then to get the whole and genuine meanness of it, and publish its meanness to the world; or if it were sublime, to know it by experience, and to be able to give a true account of it in my next excursion.”

There’s even a biblical tradition of such behavior. John the Baptist lived in the wilderness, wore camel hair, ate locusts and gathered wild honey (Matt 3:4).

Jesus spent much time in the wilderness. Was there perhaps a motive besides temptation for which the Spirit drove Jesus into the wilderness for forty days? Regardless of your motive, you must certainly possess some measure of survival skill before you treck into the desert alone for forty days.

Following in this tradition, and with an inexplicable mandate of the soul, John and I set out to spend three days and two nights in Red River Gorge 90 minutes east of Louisville, KY on February 1st (See pictures below).

All week we had been checking the online weather report more than we check our e-mail. The temperature at the base of the ridges promised to be in the low teens and the report was calling for “snow showers.” But we were too invested (financially and emotionally) to back out.

Day One – Thursday
We arrived at the Gorge on Thursday about an hour before sundown and found that we were the only ones at the camp. There was not a park ranger or fellow hiker to be found. So we gathered our gear and hit the trail. After a treacherous hike through the ridges in the dark we found an opening in the vegetation where we could set up camp, built a fire, prepared our meal and sat down to take in the (limited) sights and unusual sounds of the wilderness before settling down to sleep.

Day Two – Friday
We rose early. While it was snowing we prepared what seemed like four pounds of oatmeal on the stove, and walked as we ate it to warm ourselves up. We packed our gear, consulted the map and were on the trail shortly after 8am. We hiked down to a stream, switched back and forth across it several times to keep on the trail, and hiked up several hundred feet to higher elevation. The snow fall increased through the morning and the wind became more severe as we climbed. But the sights made it all worth while.

The further we went, the less pronounced the trail became. At several points we lost our way and had to backtrack. We lost about 1 1/2 hours trying to find the trail. Near our location there was a mark on the map: “Second Story.” After searching for the trail, John finally suggested climbing straight up a rocky ridge by grasping at tree roots in hopes of finding the trail. As it turned out this was the “Second Story” and we rejoined the trail. We hiked for several more miles and decided to set up camp around 4:30pm since we knew setting a fire would be more challenging than the night before due to the harsh winter conditions. So we worked to gather (and chop) plenty of  firewood and after many failed attempts managed to create a strong fire. We prepared our meal but could not enjoy our evening as we had the night before since the conditions were so much more severe. Even the fire did not yield enough heat to counter the wind and the temperature (I estimate it was about 5 degrees F aside from the wind chill). With no success at keeping warm we resigned ourselves to the tent around 7:30pm and cocooned in our sleeping bags until morning.

Day 3 – Saturday
John awoke Saturday morning to find that his boots were frozen solid and the leather unpliable. The side of my sleeping bag was frozen to the inside of the tent. Most of our drinking water was frozen and the temperature was so low that we couldn’t get water to boil on the stove. After finishing our cold, uncooked, watery oatmeal, we packed up and hit the trail because it was the only way to keep warm. Soon we warmed up, John’s boots thawed. We reached a stream, discarded the frozen drinking water and replenished it with fresh water from the stream. The hike back seemed easier knowing that we were headed back. We were glad we went, but were eager to get home.

Annie and Emily spent the weekend together as well (but in lap of modern convenience). When we walked through the door we weren’t permitted to so much as great them but were ushered upstairs immediately to the showers, while the ladies rifled through our packs for dirty clothes and dirty dishes.

For the most part, we ate like kings that weekend. Annie did much research on preparing backpacking meals and offered to make them for us. We were skeptical at first, but the meals couldn’t have been better (We still took along a few MREs as a backup).

“O God of our salvation…the one who by his strength established the mountains, being girded with might…so that those who dwell at the ends of the earth are in awe of your signs” (Psalm 65).

“Behold a king will reign in righteousness…like the shade of a great rock in a weary land” (Isaiah 32).

 
“My faithfulness and steadfast love shall be with him, and in my name shall his horn be exalted. I will set his hand on the sea and his right hand on the rivers” (Psalm 89).

“For who is God, but the LORD? And who is a rock, except our God? This God is my strong refuge and has made my way blameless” (2 Samuel 22).
“Take the loincloth that you have bought, which is around your waist, and arise, go to the Euphrates and hide it there in a cleft of the rock” (Jeremiah 13:4).

“What is that coming up from the wilderness like columns of smoke” (Song of Solomon 3:6)?

“She rises while it is yet night and provides food for her household and portions for her maidens…..She is not afraid of snow for her household” (Proverbs 31).