I can’t really say when the idea of hiking a hundred miles entered my head. I was inspired by the book A Walk in the Woods, a story of two 60+ year old dudes who attempt to hike the Appalachian Trail. I was inspired to thru-hike for the experience of piling up miles walking while carrying all the provisions on your back.
Overall, the actual experience of hiking 100 miles of the Ozark Trail embodied every adjective one could conger up. It was fun, it was exhausting, it was thrilling, it was terrifying, and it was miserable to a relevant degree.
The logistics of the trip worked out marvelously in the last days leading up to the hike. The original plan called for us to hide provisions along the trail and resupply by walking to them. Roger, who foolishly agreed to make this journey with me, had an in-law, Darren, who wanted to tag along for the first part of the trip. By having both Darren’s dad and I drive, we had three resupplies and nine days of food at our disposal.
We left Roger’s house on Monday, the 17th. We took 60 east to Winona, 19 to Eminence, then 106 to the Powder Mill Trailhead, a trek of almost 200 miles. We camped that night at Power Mill. Next morning, we left the Tundra at Powder Mill and took Highway 21 to County Road J in Reynolds County. This was the northern terminus of the hike. Supplied with three days of meals, we parted our driver at 10 a.m on a sunny day.
The first impressions of the hike that set in was that the tapestry of the forest limited your ability to take in the scenery. The plants were leafed out to a point where the hillside views were cut out. Absolutely no vistas were seen the first or second day. It was kinda of claustrophobic. Second, our sunny 85 degree day, mixed with high humidity, created a sweltering atmosphere. While making good time, we were consuming gallons of water gained by pumping spring water through a purifier and sweating profusely. Last, the ticks were out in full force. We picked hundreds off of us in the duration of the trip.
We hit the tenth mile at about 2 and decided that we would trudge on to a site known as Bee Creek, which came at mile 15. This section of the trail traveled up a ridge along a bluff. While the sights were breathtaking, the trail was on a steep cliff, barely two feet wide in places. You know how I love heights. We arrived at Bee Creek at 6. It was a gorgeous camp spot. We setup camp on a sandbar and enjoyed our first meal of dehydrated chili.
While exhausted, terrible leg cramps kept me up most of the night to the point of leaving my tent frequently to walk them off.
The next morning, we dined on oatmeal and came to the conclusion we overdid it the day before. Our goal was to make 8 miles to a small creek. The hike seemed completely uphill. Again, it was an 85 degree day and the uphills were strenuous. It was sometime mid-morning when I crested a rise and stood face to face with the rarest of forest sightings, a bobcat. He immediately turned and scampered down the trail rather than veer off into the woods. So I got a real good look at him.
We refilled our water bottles at the 5 mile mark, and got our first sensation of fright as two jet fighters buzzed us at what we judged to be less than 300 ft. The sound of their engines were ear splitting. I wondered if the war with North Korea had begun.
We reached the stream at 1. It was completely dry. There was a spring on the map at 11 miles which appeared to be our only option. Three hours later, we found it to be dry. This was a problem because we completely out of water, Now, a small creek at mile 14 looked to be our last resort. We reached it at 6, dry. The area appeared to be a washed out creek bed . We began looking around really too exhausted to go any further. We finally came upon a small pool of moving water barely 3 inches deep. So we called this spot camp. Pumping water out of that pothole was painstaking slow. Two days, 29 miles. No problems sleeping that night.
It was oatmeal again (as it was every morning). We packed up and were ready to tackle the 6 miles to the Highway 72 Trailhead. As we left our campsite, we walked over a small ridge maybe 200 feet and there was a briskly flowing stream. This wouldn’t be the last time this would happen.
A four hour walk brought us to the Highway 72 Trailhead. This was Darrel’s pick up point. His dad met us there at 10. I had stashed the next three days of meals in his truck before he left us at Highway J. We were now resupplied.
Roger and I continued on the trail until 1. We had just made the CR 235 Trailhead, so we decided to stop for lunch. In the brief time we ate, the sky went from cloudless to overcast. A hard rain hit us at 3, so we changed into rain gear and covered our packs.
The rain let up at 5, so we decided to make camp while it was precipitation free. We did get supper in before the rain picked up again, this time with a vengeance. While it rained continuously through the night, I was dry and slept well.
The following morning it was raining harder than before. I basically sat in my tent from 6 to 9 a.m. It obviously was not going to quit. Packing up our stuff would allow everything to get soaked creating a significant rise in the misery index.
At 9 we pow-wowed. My plan was to leave all or stuff and hike the remaining distance to Powder Mill, where my truck was parked, a distance of what we guessed was 15 miles. Without packs, I figured we were good for 3 mph, so we’re talking 5 hours of hiking. Roger agreed so off we struck in our rain gear at 9:05. I took a plastic water bottle, our map, and a small bag of homemade trail mix.
The trail was rigorous and the driving rain made for some unpleasant hours. Several dicey stream crossings followed. Roger insisted on removing his shoes and socks for each crossing, our first sign of a personality conflict. We were as soaked as drowned rats. Removing shoes was moot. Late in the afternoon a tinge of trepidation hit me. I knew we were well over 5 hours on the trail, we had not taken a break, my water had been depleted hours ago, yet we saw no sign we were making progress. It was inconclusive exactly where we were on the map although we were parallel to a river. Suddenly, a chilly wind began blowing dropping the temperature (by my judgment) 20 degrees. I began to shiver, a condition that progressively got worse. Was I bordering on hypothermia? Still we walked. Now, I noticed it was getting dark although I wasn’t sure it was the onset of night, or the gathering storm.
I kept the map in the elastic waistband of the rain pants. I reached for it sometime in the late afternoon and realized it was missing. I’m sure Roger gave me the same look I was giving him at stream crossings. Luckily, the trail was distinct and well marked.
Then, like a gift from God, we came upon the cliffs overlooking the Current River. Were were 3 miles from Powder Mill. With renewed vigor, we climbed down from the mountain, crossed Highway 106, and reached the truck. Yes, I did remember the keys. As I started the engine, the interior clock read 7:43. We had walked 10 straight hours, a distance we later calculated at 22 miles.
I drove to a small town called Ellington (which, a week later, would suffer through catastrophic damage from severe floods that followed), booked a room at the local motel, ate Mexican (the only open restaurant), hit the laundromat to wash our clothes wearing only our rain suits, and slept like babies that night.
Saturday’s problem was getting our backpacking stuff back. As we began our hike the previous morning, we happened to cross a fairly well maintained fire road about a mile and a half after we started. If we could find that road, it would be an easy egress. We returned to the CR 235 Trailhead. We stopped a local on the dirt road beside the trailhead and he was fairly certain as to the location of the road crossing we were seeking. Snaking around the rain soaked road (Yes, it was still raining) we found where the OT crossed. We followed the trail, but after an hour it was apparent this was not the crossing we were looking for. We returned to the truck. We knew we could reach the camp from the trailhead, a one way distance of four miles. Lacking options, that became the plan. Back at the trailhead, a brisk walk of three miles suddenly resulted my having the realization I was having a bout of deja’vu.
“We were here this morning,” I said to Roger.
He had trouble swallowing that fact until we came upon the very road we parked at previously. We had gone the wrong way. The camp was on the other side of the road, although neither of us could remember crossing a road on Thursday. Now we were in a pickle. Do we walk to the camp and hike all the way back to the truck or do we hedge our bet and return to the truck, drive it back here and shorten the trip? We opted for the latter.
We chose to stay on the road rather than walk back through the woods. And that proved to be a lucky stroke. An older couple just happened to be leaving their house as we walked by and gave us a lift to the trailhead saving us at least an hour and a half walk. As we were returning to the crossing, we got another huge break. I spied a dirt road that forked off toward the camp. We followed it for a mile and, voila, it proved to be the road we crossed when we left camp. We gathered our belongings and returned to the truck. All-in-all it was still a ten mile day.
We drove to Eminence, ate at Ruby’s, checked into the local hotel and went to Dollar General for a hair drier to relieve the rain soaked damage.
We had covered 70 miles of our hundred mile in 4 days so we were well ahead of schedule. Sunday was a day of rest. We visited both Blue and Ally Springs and couldn’t resist hiking the short trails at each park. We then drove to Echo Bluff, a new State Park in Missouri. It was pretty awesome. It was a huge fancy lodge out in the backwoods of Shannon County. We ate lunch at the restaurant there on a deck overlooking the river. Stark contrast to the previous couple of days.
Back at the motel, we packed our dry provisions in preparation of our final 30 miles.
Breakfast at Ruby’s was at 6 as we had an appointment. Darrel, a fellow church member, was hiking the final three days with us. The plan was to meet him at the Highway 60 Trailhead , which was the terminal point of the trip. We collected Darrel and his gear and drove back to Powder Mill to begin the last leg of the hike.
This Monday was, perhaps, the most enjoyable day of the whole trip. Blue skies, birds singing, and few long uphills. We reached Kelpzig Mill sometime mid-afternoon. Here was the remnants of a water powered saw mill. The river here was like a shut-in, powerfully surging between gigantic boulders. We dropped our packs and spent sometime deciding as to where exactly we should cross. About 100 yards downstream we found the most passive section, although it was thigh deep and still fast. I had a length of paracord in my pack and was able to reach the far side and tie it to a tree. The other end we tied on the near bank. It took a while to cross, but we all made it without falling.
Late in the day we reached the ten mile mark. Here we dropped our packs and took a spur trail to Rocky Falls, where a river cascaded into hundreds of waterfalls as it fell some 200 feet. The site was awesome, especially with all the water of the past days’ rain increasing it’s fury. Another mile later, we decided to camp next to a stream. A lovely setting. We ate and decided to retire even before it was completely dark.
Sometime in the night I awoke to the sound of crackling leaves outside of my tent. I listened as some creature walked about sniffing quite close to the tent and, at one time, inches from my head. I shook the tent hoping to scare it away to no avail. Having a nature calls episode, I unzipped the tent. It was near pitch black, but I could detect that something jumped a couple feet away then stopped. I yelled “SCAT!” !t didn’t move. It was too small to be a bear. I figured it was a raccoon. I got back in the tent and the sniffing and circling resumed. I had my flashlight burn out on the second night of our trip, so I never got a definitive look at the creature. I shook the tent several times which proved to be no deterrent. Suddenly, the creature jumped on top of the tent collapsing it on me. I punched it hard and said some high colorful things. I got out of my tent and went to Darrel’s hammock. I woke him and asked for his flashlight. Scanning the area, I found no sign of the beast. I returned to my tent and heard it no more.
The next morning we found that the coon (?) had ripped a ziplock bag I brought to waterproof our matches.
Tuesday, was the most strenuous of the trip. Our first challenge was a 2 mile assent up Stegall Mountain, and I mean nearly straight up. It took us over 3 hours to reach the summit. Once there, the trail became difficult to follow. There were no trees to attach blazes to and no trail because the top was all boulders. The good thing is the vista finally opened and was 360°, a real WOW spot. The way down was equally as treacherous. You had to carefully place you foot down to keep from slipping on stones and sticks.
Five hot (88 degrees) miles later we reached Peck Ranch. The Mo. Conservation Department has this land set aside as a roaming ground for Elk. When we reached the area, a sign was posted saying that, due to calving season, the OT portion that traversed the ranch was closed. Hikers were to use an 11 mile by-pass to go around the ranch.
I was all for walking through and playing dumb if caught, but the rule followers out voted me. We walked up a steep dirt rode for over a mile, then followed a gravel road for another.
God was with us, for it just so happened that a turkey hunter drove by in a pick-up. He was able to take us all but the last 4 miles of the by-pass. What a break!
After passing the ranch boundary, we walked another three miles to what we thought was Mint Springs. We camped at the edge of a stream and quickly came to the realization that the gnats there were awful, rivaling the ticks in obnoxiousness. Even with repellent, they buzzed in your ears and landed on your lips. Needless to say it was an early bedtime.
Wednesday dawned with a cloudless sky. The forecast was for severe storms but here there was nothing but sunshine. The previous night’s supper of dehydrated hamburger and ramen noodles was so copious it served as breakfast. We packed and set off on the last six miles of our journey. A hundred yards into our hike we found a rock wall with a rather hefty stream of water emitting from it…the real Mint Spring in a beautiful setting (with no gnats). The trail had a long uphill at this point and we stopped to rest at the top. Darrel took out his phone and muttered “uh-oh”. The radar indicated a rather powerful storm was imminent.
There was one small problem. Pike Creek, some two miles distant, is rated as the most dangerous crossing on the OT. The map warns it is prone to flash flooding with even a mild rain event. There was no alternative as the creek ran several miles in both directions. Needless to say, we literally ran that 2 miles. We did reach the creek before the storm, forded it, and put our boots back on to the peel of thunder.
The final two miles was a breeze. We crossed Highway 60 just as several hundred of those stupid looking Spider motorcycles came by. Each waved as if they were cheering our accomplishment. I felt like Rocky. We got our gear into Darrel’s Jeep just as a torrential downpour began. Little did we know that this rain would last 3 days and severely damage both Ellington and Eminence.
We drove back to Powder Mill and picked up the Tundra, stopped at Ruby’s in Eminence for one last meal, then worked to stay awake during the 2 hour trip home.
I did it. 101 miles, 65 year old me. How about that?
I want to thank the following for the success of the trip:
My boots-purchased new a month ago and broken in on a 20 mile “practice” hike. No blisters, waterproof to a great degree, comfortable.
My tent-slept dry the four nights it rained.
My maps-kept us on the trail, very easy to follow.
