The Patio Boys went to Bandy Creek Oneida TN for the 2024 spring hike, April 26-29. Those attending were Mooch, Pops, Tarp, B goat, Pole, and Bull. The original plan was a section hike of the Appalachian Trail. One of the Ambassadors, Captain, Patio Boy scribe extraordinaire, asked for postponement due to a family wedding, and a desire not to miss this section hike. The next weekend was KY Derby weekend and off limits for postponement, so the PBs compromised and went on a different hike saving the AT for Captain. There was a question; “Who would write the story?” Captain said; “Take notes”. Sorry, we did not. However, this hike was memorable and worthy of a write up. Delayed and not close to Captain’s quality, documentation is required. We missed Captain. When one of the core group is missing, it’s noticeable. He made sure we remembered him by sending a picture of his bare feet, not in the bath tub like the humorous George Bush painting, but pool side in Florida. We think he was goading, trying to contrast his luxurious surroundings to ours as if to say “Suckers!” We were relatively certain he would rather have been on the trail, but the picture made that hard to know.

We needed to start early on Friday 6:30-7:00 to make the 4+ hour drive and hike at least a good portion of the estimated 28 mile loop. With only 4 days to accomplish, that first day distance was at least targeted at 7 miles or more. The general rule of thumb for PB hiking speed is 2 miles per hour which turns out to be very accurate. There would be enough time to knock off significant mileage before evening. So, Pops and Bull in Pop’s new Mercedes, the Villa Hills contingent group, with the normal Captain or Doc missing. And Mooch, Tarp, B goat, and Pole in Poles Expedition head to Oneida, TN.

Car conversations during the drive are familiar topics, current events, work, and social security. Medical check-ups are common updates, physicals, dermatology visits, colonoscopies, all showing our age. John Pops made an interesting observation; “Have you noticed hair loss on your forearms and ankles? Where did it go?   Ankles can be explained due to the need to wear socks. Ankles are bald up to the sock line, but forearms, no excuse”. A new topic that brought back a memory of a business trip to China, attending a large customer party in Shanghai.  Hot weather and casual dress, the 2004 forearms showing in a short sleeve shirt, my agent approached and whispered; “I have a very strange question or request and please do not take offense. Mr. Xi and Mr. Chen asked if you would mind if they could touch the hair on your forearms”. What are you going to say? Of course. Before they had taken their turn, a line formed of several if not a dozen party participants wanting to feel forearm hair. Very strange. Relatively impossible for an Irishman to be invisible in China, especially so with body hair showing. Doubtful the 2024 forearm version would elicit the same demand.

Enough about aging, the Patio Boys are still hiking like 2004. The Bandy Creek Loop was 27.6 miles total, comparable to many earlier hikes in younger days. We decreased recent mileages to well under 20, some down to 15, maybe tougher trails, but still 28 miles on a weekend, commendable for hikers in their late 60s and early 70s. The exception being the much younger Pole. Praiseworthy for any age group.

Bandy Creek campground is premium quality, well-manicured, new facilities, clean bath houses and grounds, paved roadways, including a newer swimming pool (still closed in April) but obviously well maintained. Impressive place. Also, it’s a mountain biking destination with a number of trail options.  The Sheltowee Trace cuts through the area just above the pool and parking lot.

We headed east on the Sheltowee in a mild rain. The northern tip of a weather front just nipping our location. ANK-u-weather report from our staff meteorologist B goat has the front moving south with the heavy stuff just missing our location. Well, things change. Within the first mile the rain gear and the pack covers go on. Not the heaviest rain in Patio Boy history, but a respectable down pour for the first 2-3 miles. It passes quickly. Cracks of blue sky appear through the gray, the rain subsides, and a beautiful afternoon emerges.

The trail was friendly to the step and picturesque. There must have been a dry spell prior. The ground and the foliage absorbed whatever had fallen. The trail remained firm and the forest undergrowth freshly washed reflected more light than normal. It was a sight to behold after all the gray faded. Spring was in full gear with several shades of green, young leaves, early blooms. The mosses growing around the trail borders had bursts of colors, a dark green base, newer growth had lighter green teal shade, to the tips of the moss hair, a lighter yellowish green shade that glowed florescent. At several points where conifers had dropped their browning needles, the rust color contrasted in a uniform line to the edge of the multicolored moss growth and trail border. Professional landscaping could not have looked better. If it were a painting, it would not have looked real. Such a combination and contrast of colors brought to mind a Victorian house painting selection.

Moss grows thick over large rocks. Some along the trail about waist high with the moss conforming perfectly to the shape of the rock. A thick custom carpeting. When touched it reveals its thickness. Very similar to the hair, loose skin, and adipose around the neck and shoulders of a Yellow Labrador. Grab a hand full and it pushes through the fingers. Run your hand over it and it moves more of it than you would think. It’s like the moss is receptive to the touch, alive.

Water sources are a critical element to campsite proximity. The last access to water was 4.5 miles in and not enough mileage to consider a campsite. We needed more miles. The targeted campsite had to be ridgeline, which usually means no water. All water bottles and bladders must be filled to hold over until afternoon the following day. We did so before climbing to ridge top joining the John Muir (JMT) Grand Loop trail. We head north on a ridge top overlooking the South Fork of the Cumberland River. We thought we were in for a tougher, less maintained trail. The jagged outline of the map seemed to indicate difficulty, but not so. Mostly level, well maintained, meandering the ridge top, with occasional full views of the river gorge below. The river cannot be seen through the thick trees below, but out cropping of stone cliffs on the opposite side outlined a steep and wide gorge. When closer to the edges, the tops of trees 300ft below revealed the significant depth. A beautiful trail in its own right that was friendly to mountain bikers as well.

The map showed 2 green dots on two small side spurs that appeared to be campsites. The map provided by Bob Mooch was excellent, copied in color by John Pops, better than most we have had, and accurate. Based on the hours on the trial and by our sore feet, we had to be close to 8 miles in, and if we were, the potential campsites had to be close. The openings to the spurs can be difficult to find. We walked by the first. Luckily so, because the second was the Taj Mahal of campsites, 4-5 distinct sites separated by foliage hedges, level,  2” thick bed of pine needles, a fire ring on one of those cliff outcroppings, and a panoramic view of the gorge below. And fire wood, everywhere within yards of the site. This was classic PB style, on the brink of exhaustion we had found home, 8.1 miles in. The site could have had one of the highest rankings ever, but unfortunately no water. Bob Mooch rated it at level 3. We had a big fire that evening, a signal fire that likely could have been seen for miles, being on the open cliff. A cliff that could be a source for worry if one forgot where they were in the middle of the night.  We dismissed the worry due to the distance of the individual sites from the fire and the edge. Limit the bourbon, save the water.

The weather was perfect on day 2. Crystal clear blue sky, slightly warmer than day 1, not much humidity, pleasant hiking weather. Water replenishment was not far. More open views on this part, as the trail straightens it’s meandering and seems closer to the river gorge, the spring colors as mesmerizing as the day before. The easy walking allows the mind to wander. Occasional up and down, under outcroppings instead of on top, under rock formations, cliffs, caves, more rocks, less friendly now, and impossible for bikers. Need help down a steep rock, grab 3“diameter seedling to lower your step and be surprised by the feel of the moss hair growing on the bark. The familiar feel of forearm hair? Weird. Another flash back of memories of kids swinging on your arms, pulling the wrist (forearm) hair. Had to limit those for forearm hair preservation. Getting a little lost in thoughts, observing how the vines and roots grow over the rocks, twisting and turning at radii common to snakes. Roots growing over the trial look like they could be snakes. Rarely, but sometimes, what looks like a root can be a snake. Approximately 3 feet away, within the next step, the root crossing the trail transforms, coils its body, and cocks a triangular shaped head at 90 degrees. A rattlesnake in classic striking mode, tail rattling. Startling and too close to disaster. Think about it, 12 miles in at the apex of the loop, several hours from emergency relief. What would you do?  A topic for more discussion, but first, pay more attention. Mother Nature lures you into her beauty, only to remind there are dangers lurking. Good to enjoy, but not good to be in a swirl of memories.

Ran into 3 women horseback riders at the creek crossing drinking beer. Tarp, Mooch, and Pole arrived first. Tarp apparently struck a deal to trade a snip of bourbon for 2 beers while awaiting the following group of Pops, B-goat, and Bull. The deal maker, apparently the friendliest of the bunch announced: “The other boys on the other side of the creek”. She was very thin with overly thick hair. At first it appeared that she was wearing a colorful jean jacket that ended up to be a jean vest with 2 full arm tattooed sleeves. On passing closer she smiled friendly, revealing needed dental work. We have seen this before; $1200 tattoo sleeve priority over $1200 dental caps. After the PB groups rejoin, Tarp revealed his deal making prowess. Nothing was said at the time, but it was reminiscent of O Brother Where Art Thou. Did Tarp allow the deal maker to sip directly from his flask? Would we awake tomorrow with Tarp as a toad?  

There is another green dot 7.9 miles from Campsite 1. Just a mile or two from the crossing through a single jog fence labyrinth blocking horses, a road less traveled. The entrance to Laurel Fork Creek. More a thin path than the wider trails, with weeds whipping the pant legs. Much different, damp, darker, and with the barrier, you sense a different almost forbidding vibe; DO NOT ENTER. Just a feeling, no worries, on with the plan. Within a mile or so we find home, Taj Mahal #2, this one with a large stack of left over wood, level sites, water a few yards away, premium location found late in the day.

As good as things seem to be, there is always imperfection. Bill finds a tick. Later while sitting at the fire I find a tick just above the sock line. Big guy, and he is not moving. I could burn the end of a stick, touch the tick with the amber to cause release. Hand sanitizer might be needed to sterilize after, but what would it hurt to apply before. It worked. The big guy releases, yanked off the leg between thumb and finger, and thrown in the fire. A big red spot and a little bleeding after but not bad. Tick alert was on. Belts were tightened, pant legs tucked in socks, leaves raked away from sitting areas. Perfection spoiled. There are several stories about ticks. They know no boundary. Bob has a classic story of ticks going were the sun does not shine. Bill has another story of very personal violation. You think, never had that happen, but don’t count yourself out too quickly. While emptying your bladder, you see a small spec of dirt on a very personal body part. That spec of dirt will not move, and it has this white dot directly in the center, a different species with a warning sign. That rattlesnake encounter was nothing compared to this intrusion. You can’t ask for help. For that matter you do not want to attract any attention to what you must do. The remedy, hand sanitizer and pocket knife, sparing the procedure details. That white dot caused some anxiety for a few days. You imagine the worst. Unbelievable.  

As it turned out, the foreboding entrance to Laurel Fork Creek could have been the entrance to the David Grann’s Lost City of Z, or better for the Patio Boys it was the Lost City of T, as in TICKS. Campsite #3 is another level site with wood and water. Feeling grateful with the setup, Tarp finished with his tent put up, begins to organize the empty bags on the ground only to find an army of 20-30 ticks on the bottom of his tent bag. More shock and awe, we are camped directly on top of the Lost City of T. We found the Kingdom. Eyes bulging, the leaf and debris clearing begins, make the opposition visible. Pops rolled his pants, cleared area he dubbed a “tick killing zone”, as we did the same. It seemed to work, as no other tick intrusions where reported. However, tick alert was elevated on the Homeland security scale from Orange to Red. There was some debate as to whether or not this large grouping of ticks were in fact ticks. Ticks seem to be on solo missions and not normally seen in large numbers. They sure looked like ticks.

The hike out was fairly level, shorter and pleasant. The end was at the Bandy Creek Campground directly west of where we entered. There, a larger field that opens off the trail and the parking lot campground appears.

Walking single file for 27 miles on the trail, we all fan out perpendicular in the field with 20 yard shoulder to shoulder separations. If we wore helmets and carried rifles it could be a movie scene in a Band of Brothers. Maybe a little grandiose for the Patio Boys, but it is an unspoken feeling. We all have different reasons for doing what we do. But over the years the comraderies formed by a simple common purpose has bound us together. Hence, we continue into our late years despite the loss of forearm hair or other. At this point, there is no end in sight.

Back to reality at the cars the focus changes rapidly. No time to delay, the Boys are hungry. Throw the gear in, get a good lunch, and head home.

But hold the horses, Pole’s SUV is dead, no juice, click, click, click and no cables. Borrowed 2 battery packs from the Ranger station, but not sufficiently charged for the loaded Ford Expedition model. Finally found a Bandy Creek camper with cables. More than enough hands in the mix to get the cables on the terminals. What’s the rule? Negative is last on first off, or is it first on last off? Grateful for Google, there is a specific procedure, but for the record Negative is last on the dead battery and first off after starting.

A 45 minute delay, but success.

Lunch time.

Bull