A Witch Hunt in Chesterville

An inevitable lull occurred in the conversation at the Thanksgiving Day dinner table.

“Have ya’ll see the witch’s grave in Chesterville?” asked Aunt Janet, completely out of the blue.

The blank stare of each member of my conservative family turned even blanker.

Page thirty-one of the annual regional magazine, Discover Central Illinois, had featured an article about a microscopic town called Chesterville, Population 148. Aunt Janet had recently read this article and had a copy of the magazine. According to local folklore, a mysterious witch is buried in Chesterville’s cemetery.

The story goes that a rebellious young woman, who was thought to be a witch, disappeared and was later found dead in a farmer’s field. Even though authorities ruled her death to be of natural causes, many locals feared that she would come back to life and seek revenge. People from all over the countryside, came to see the witch’s body in the funeral home. When she was buried, a tree was planted on her grave to keep her spirit trapped in the tree.

The Capital Area Paranormal Society published this article in 2011 after a couple of their investigators visited the Chesterville cemetery. CAPS elaborates on the folklore to add that the witch was actually an Amish woman who challenged the elders of the church in the 1800’s. She was ultimately banished from the church and accused of being a witch. No definitive ghost sightings were reported from this particular CAPS visit.

For a town of 148, this is a big deal.

On the day after Thanksgiving, Mom and Dad shuffled my boyfriend into their car to go on a witch hunt. It was a windy day and there was no one around for as far as one could see down a country road. There were no signs marking the witch’s grave, but it was distinguish able by an iron fence surrounding a crooked oak tree, atop a faded tombstone.

I walked around the fence to find that part of it was missing and open. Does this mean that the witch ghost has escaped? I also noticed that there were knife markings on the tree mark? Will these incisions eventually kill the tree, resulting in the witch’s spirit being released?

To this day, many locals believe that if the tree is destroyed, the ghost of the witch will emerge from her grave in search of those who caused her death. Cemetery visitors have reported ghost sightings around the tree.  I like to think of myself as open-minded to the paranormal, but I didn’t see anything at all. And even though our witch hunt was unsuccessful, it sure beat sitting around and discussing my retirement plan and tax deductions.

Celebrating Gnomers’ Day in Joliet, Illinois

The most recent issue of The International Gnome Club Newsletter featured a great article about how to prepare for and celebrate Gnomers’ Day on December 1st. With just a bit of research, I was delighted to find a Gnomers’ Day celebration in my neck of the woods. The Billie Limacher Bicentennial Park in Joliet, Illinois hosted their 36th Annual Festival of the Gnomes with a musical theater performance and a craft fair on December 1, 2012.

A 90-minute musical theater show was performed at both 1:00 and 3:30pm, and featured around 50 actors of all ages telling stories and singing songs about gnomes. The park building lobby was transformed into a “gnomemade” craft fair filled with gnomish creations from local artists. Girl and boy stuffed gnome dolls were raffled off at the end of the festival. Despite my fifteen raffle entries, I was not fortunate to win either one of them! Refreshments of baked goods and coffee were also served.

My favorite part of the fair was the “make your own gnome hat” station. Nearly all festival attendees spent the worthwhile $3.00 for a felt hat (red for boys, green for girls) and decorated it with a variety of pins, feathers, and jewels. A tassel was added to your hat each year you returned to the festival. No one had more tassels than the park’s own founder and president, Billie Limacher, who sported thirty-six tassels for each year the gnome festival was held. I had the pleasure of meeting Billie, who was a spunky and enthusiastic 90+ year-old woman wearing an elaborate “grandma gnome” costume.

I could barely contain my excitement throughout the day, as I had never been surrounded by so many other gnome enthusiasts all at once before. I can truly say that Gnomers’ Day was one of the best days I’ve ever had. I made new gnome collector friends, handed out business cards to network with local gnome artists, and bought more than my fair share of crafts to add to my expanding gnome collection. A year is a long time to wait, but I’m excited to see what’s in store for Gnomers’ Day 2013!

 

*Photography by Sridhar Balasubramanian

The Charcoal Kilns of Death Valley

When driving down the winding, unpaved road towards Wildrose Peak, the scenery was what you would expect in Death Valley. At 6,800 feet, desert plants line the roadside and mountains loom in the distance. The last thing I expected to see at the trail head was charcoal kilns.

The charcoal kilns, ten conical masonry structures, were completed by the Modock Consolidated Mining Company in the late 1800’s. The kilns converted lumber to charcoal for nearby silver miners, and the neighboring ghost towns of Darwin and Lookout used the kilns. For a brief period of time, charcoal was transported by jackass pack-trains down the trail from Lookout to Wildrose Canyon.

I crouched low and ducked my head to peek inside. There was an eerie stillness all around me. Sunlight poured in through the door and the top of the kiln. My mind wandered, as I tried to imagine what the kilns used to be like when they were in use. Death Valley is a land of extremes…hot, dry, low, and unexpectedly historic.

Wine on the Road to Nashville

 

It was New Years Eve and I’d been driving through Kentucky for hours. The roadside scenery was sparse and so was my patience.

By this point in the road trip, our conversation had been reduced to reading road signs aloud. However, there was one road sign that I don’t regret reading. It was a sign for the Long Hollow Winery, just outside of Nashville in Goodlettsville, Tennessee.

I won’t pretend to be a wine snob or that I have a well-refined palate. One thing I do know is that I really liked this place. My boyfriend, Sridhar, and I were relieved that the cottage-style building with a large parking lot was open at noon on New Years Eve. Apparently, we aren’t the only ones who like to start early.

A gift shop filled most of the space inside of the winery with a standard array of arts and crafts. Beyond the gift shop, stood a bar that ran along the back of the room. The winery owner, Stu Phillips, greeted us with a warm welcome and immediately offered a taste of seven of his wines. Much to my liking, the portion sizes were generous.

Stu made brief mention about his former life in the music business, as we engaged in idle chit-chat about when he started his winery and how he took care of his vineyard. However, I didn’t learn how involved he was in the Nashville music scene until I began researching for this article.

Stu performed as a recording artist on stage, television, and radio for more than five decades. He was inducted into the Grad Ole Opry in 1967…and here he was serving me wine.

One by one, tiny glasses were filled with Stu’s wine. The poisons of choice were Riesling, Signature, Chardonnay, Scarlet, Plantation, Blackberry, and Strawberry. My tastes are generally swayed by fruit and sweet wines, rather than dry and bland ones. However, none of them were very dry and I would have enjoyed a bottle of any one of the wines I tried.

My number one pick was the Blackberry Wine. My first tasting impression was that of sparking juice. However, sparkling juices don’t exactly contain 14% alcohol. It was smooth, rich, and far too easy to drink. I definitely made sure to pick up a bottle to take back home. Long Hollows’s website even shares a recipe for blackberry wine cake. By now my bottle is long gone, but I really wished I would have picked up a second one to try this recipe.

My number two pick was the Plantation, which is a semi-sweet red wine and an authentic recipe from an old plantation of West Tennessee. It had a slightly bitter and complex taste with flavors I couldn’t exactly put my finger on. This wine would go with pretty much any type of food and went down very smoothly.

Since no one else was visiting the winery at that time, Stu continued to chat with us as we tasted. He told that he had started the winery after realizing that the music business and record sales would never been what they used to in the old days. He said that he actually only had a few days left to work before he retired and turned the business over to his grown children, who ran a good portion of the business anyway.

My road trip pit stops tend to be gas stations and fast food restaurants. I’m glad I glanced up in time to notice the winery billboard as I headed towards Nashville that day. Long Hollow had a refreshing, small-time charm that seemed to shun from the commercialism of the nearby city. And now, I’m inspired to keep my eye out for other wineries that pop up along the way during future road trips.

A Breath in Death Valley (A Poem)

Stuck in a rut with no light in sight
Discontent had worn her down
Figured a trip to a desolate place
Might pick her up off the ground

She drove from Vegas to Death Valley
On a sunny November day
Her eyes still crusted with dried tears
But forced open anyway

Her mind was full of chaos
And her heart devoid of hope
Sudden silence all around her
Sudden impulse to implode

She was alone in Badwater Basin
Much to her relief
She desired solitude, peace,
And some rationality

She tried to take in the beauty
But it was too vast to comprehend
She couldn’t see where it started
Or if it even had an end

She held up her binoculars
With her backpack on her back
She hiked ’til she could hike no more
‘Til negativity ceased attack

Feet crunched across the salt flats
Eyes focused on mountain peaks
Blue skies, wispy clouds, and
Sun rays provided warm critique

One of the hottest, driest places
Felt more comfortable than home
Outward extremes made her think beyond
The life she had outgrown

The hike didn’t change anything
But it helped her catch her breath
She’s still lost and wandering
But there’s a lot of trail still left

Header/Background updates!

Never fear! A few articles about my recent Death Valley trip are in the works. It’s no secret that inspiration has been lacking and motivation has been low. However, a comeback is underway. In the meantime, I’ve updated the header and background photos for the blog site. Been awhile, eh?

The header photo was taken by my favorite photographer (and boyfriend) during our first night camping in Death Valley. I’m posed atop our rental Jeep, not my Jeep. My Jeep is much more awesome.

The stars were ridiculously bright and the air was ridiculously silent. I struggled to adjust to a place that I felt more at home in. I struggled to enjoy a place that brought me happiness. Photos like this capture the sense of peace, sense, and purpose that I have only been able to feel in the outdoors. While my average day embodies chaos and discontent, days like the one captured here are rare and precious to me. One day they will be less rare, but just as precious.

The background photo (also snapped by my favorite photographer) was taken on a hike through Mosaic Canyon in Death Valley a few days later. The terrain in the area was incredibly varied – sand dunes, salt flats, mountains, forests, rock, grass, etc. There was something different around every turn and it made me see beyond the monotony of an ordinary life.

Changing the norm is inevitable at this point. It’s only a matter of the path to get from point A to point B. Point B doesn’t seem as far away as it did before my trip to Death Valley. And because of that, my inspiration and motivation is returning a little more every day.

Backpacking the Shawnee National Forest

The concept of “backpacking” always sounded like the epitome of adventure to me. But while the self-sufficiency and the minimalist nature appealed to my senses, my practical side questioned how I could actually find a path and survive the lifestyle. On a whim, I dropped a pretty penny on a 65-liter REI backpack. It sat in my apartment for weeks and I would admire how “fun” it looked to use someday.

My boyfriend had a backpacking trip or two under his belt. Although we’ve been avid campers and hikers for the past year, we’ve never strayed far from having a car full of supplies nearby. Although we’d romanticized month-long backpacking excursions around Europe and The Pacific Crest Trail, we were realistic enough to know we should start small.

Not surprisingly, the options for outdoor adventure in the Midwest are sparse. However, The Shawnee National Forest, located at the border of Illinois and Kentucky, offers some commendable options for nearby adventurers. Because of the close proximity and since it consists of relatively flat terrain, my boyfriend and I chose Shawnee for our first attempt at backpacking.

We departed on a rainy Thursday evening in October to make the six-hour southbound drive from Chicago. After a night’s stay in a cheap motel, we woke bright and early and headed to the Lusk Creek Wilderness. Since there was incredibly little information published online about backpacking in this area, we stopped at the Vistiors’ Center (located at 50 Highway 145 South, Harrisburg, Illinois) to purchase some maps.

To our relief, there were some great maps for sale in the Visitor’s Center. A couple less detailed maps trial maps are posted for free download on the USDA website as well.

With maps in hand and backpacks stuffed to the brim, our starting point was the Indian Kitchen Trail Head. My backpack felt dreadfully uncomfortable almost immediately . The straps dug into my hips, my shoulders ached, and I couldn’t help but hunch over. After adjusting the pack several times with minimal relief, I realized that I would just have to deal with it and get used to it.

From Indian Kitchen, we hiked to Bowed Tree Crossing and then towards Natural Bridge. We were backpacking on equestrian trails, so we had to be on the constant lookout for horse poop. This totally reminded me of growing up in an Amish town and going for late night runs in the “buggy lanes”.

On the way to Natural Bridge, we temporarily lost our bearings and ended up on the outskirts of the wilderness area. This was pretty clear because there was a private residence visible in the distance.

After some uphill backtracking and pushing through uncut forests, we found our way back on the trail to Natural Bridge. It was perfect hiking weather – 60’s and cloudy – but the clouds were starting to roll in and the forecasted rain seemed to be approaching.

The rain began almost as soon as we reached Natural Bridge. We took a couple pictures and contemplated our next move. Our next move was pretty much decided for us as the sprinkles turned into a torrential downpour. Fortunately, we had scoped out a couple decent spots to set up camp along the way and had one particular spot in mind. We frantically pulled the tent gear from our packs and set the tent up in record speed.

It was about 5:30pm, but we were confined to the tent for the rest of the evening due to the rain. Although we had hiked less than eight miles, I was definitely feeling the strain of my first backpacking trip already.

We had packed several freeze-dried meals and used a Jet Boil Stove to make ourselves a hearty meal of Mountain House New Orleans Style Rice with Shrimp and Ham and Blueberry Cobbler. These were surprisingly delicious!

The remainder of the waking hours were spent reading iPads and playing a dice/card game called Pass the Pigs. Except for the occasional sound of a locomotive engine horn, the night was completely silent.

Although quite cold, the sun was shining the next morning when we awoke. Our attempts to dry out the tent and rain fly were pointless, so we shoved the wet materials into our packs and set off for a short hike to Secret Canyon. This was probably the most impressive and scenic spot along the whole trail. The canyons formed a sort of amphitheater that curved around a large space under an expansive forest area. If only we would have known about these cavern retreats during the previous day’s rain storm! What a great natural shelter these would have provided!

We had to retrace our steps from the previous day to get back to my parked Jeep. On our first day, we only saw one other person on the trail….an older local gentleman on his horse. We saw the same gentleman on our second day as well and he advised us that there was a group of equestrian travelers up ahead.

We encountered these travelers at Owl Bluff. Three generations of a family dressed up in cowboy hats and chaps were having lunch in the clearing when we arrived in the area.

“Are you lost?” one older gentleman asked with a laugh.

“No, not really” we replied. ” with map and compass clearly in sight.

“Good! ‘Cause we are!” the gentleman exclaimed with another hearty laugh.

Although they had the same map that we did, we pointed out the path that we had traveled from and the approximate distances. They still seemed a bit uncertain, but were satisfied enough with our advice to wish us on our way. As we parted, one of the women cautioned us about a river up ahead and laughed about how we planned to get through it.

Although our hike was coming to an end, little did we know that one of the most challenging parts was still ahead. We’d already had to cross a few small creeks along the way, but with little difficulty. We’d take off our shoes, roll up our pants, and tip toe across the rocky creek bottom to get to the other side.

Our hiking boots squished down the trail from Owl Bluff, covered in mud and horse poop built up from the previous day’s rainstorm. As we came around a bend, we saw what the woman at Owl Bluff was laughing about. The river was probably five times as wide as the previous creeks we had crossed. The water was freezing cold, it was flowing at a moderate speed, and we couldn’t see the bottom. Mental notes were made about investing in waterproof hiking boots as soon as possible.

There was no way around it, so we went through it. We moved slowly, cautiously, and with outstretched arms to avoid tipping over with the large backpacks and getting all of our supplies wet. After a good amount of time, we both finally reached the other side. At this point, we realized we were nearly out of drinking water. This wasn’t a huge deal because we only had a half day’s hike ahead of us. We had also packed some water purification tablets and wanted to test if they actually made natural water drinkable.

I scooped some yellow-brown water from the river that we had just crossed in our bare feet into my empty bottle and popped a couple tablets inside. The sun began to come out as we continued on the hike, and this provided to be yet another day with perfect hiking weather.

Without getting lost and with no additional obstacles (except for ample amounts of mud and horse poop), we made it back to the trail head. I was so relieved to see my blue Jeep in the distance.  My first backpacking trip was complete and it was a success! Exhausted, I plopped down on the ground and checked the river water in my bottle. It was still yellow-brown. I dumped it out.

In total, we backpacked almost 20 miles. We prevailed through rainstorms, getting lost, trail-side cooking, river crossings, and each other during our hike. While beautiful, Shawnee National Forest was merely a baby-step in the direction of hardcore backpacking. Regardless, I learned a lot throughout this baby-step and I can’t wait to plan a teenager-step backpacking trip as soon as the winter passes.

First Time Fishing

It was Memorial Day weekend and there was an important mission at hand. Catching a fish.

Neither my boyfriend or I had ever held a fishing pole before, but this was the weekend that would all change. We’re outdoorsy….we camp, we hike, so it just seemed  like the right thing to do. We drove from Chicago to the Chain o’ Lakes State Park and set up camp at Site #6. Fortunately, there was a Wal-Mart nearby so stocking up on fishing supplies was a no-brainer.

We picked up the second cheapest pole on the shelf, a small tackle box with a bunch of strange and colorful devices, and a bucket of live earthworms. The state park had several fishing piers, and most them were occupied by at least a couple fathers with their kids. We picked the empty end of one of the piers because we figured the marshy and shallow shoreline wouldn’t be a great place to cast a line.

According to the Internet, these fish were supposed to be in this particular lake: bluegill, large-mouth bass, walleye, crappie, muskie, northern pike, bullhead, catfish and yellow and white bass. Yeah right.

My ex_magicianever-patient boyfriend sat with that fishing pole for a seemingly endless amount of time. I had anticipated my ADD to kick in, so I brought along a sketchpad and colored pencils to make crappy art and distract myself. The earthworms would occasionally get yanked off the hook and my boyfriend would reel the line back in to re-bait. To be a good sport, I pretended to help bait the hook a time or two. To save some bait, I attempted to cut the earthworms  in half with a rock to make them last longer. While I’m sure this was amusing to watch, it created more mess than conservation.

After a couple hours, we had to give up. The nearby fisherdads exclaimed “What? You’re done already?!” and “Ya didn’t catch anything? I’ve caught at least five already!”. I hated them so much. They weren’t doing anything special. They weren’t putting any more effort into their catches and their pole didn’t look any more fancy than ours. Yet, our mission was failing.

Before the sun started to set, my boyfriend suggested relocating to another pier to see if fish in another area liked us any better. I continued making really bad art and snapping pictures of the scenery to pass the time. Not more than twenty minutes passed before he started yelling. Something was pulling on the line! Some fish was dumb enough to eat the mangled worm hanging on our hook!

I threw my sketchpad on the ground and furiously snapped pictures…hoping to get a shot of his first fish before it decided it didn’t really want to eat that earthworm. The fish stayed on the hook as he reeled it in and we shrieked with excitement. In all honesty, it was a pretty small fish. But after a day of sitting around catching nothing, this was about as exciting as it got.

Prior to this trip, my boyfriend talked scaling the fish he caught and cooking them for dinner on our mini camp grill. This particular fish was not exactly big enough to eat, and I was secretly relieved. The idea of fish guts squirting all over the grill didn’t exactly make my mouth water.

He ended up throwing the fish back into the lake. As I sit here typing this story, I wonder if that fish ever regained consciousness because we definitely played with it while it dangled from the hook for quite some time. (Cue bad joke about  plenty of fish in the sea?) I held the fishing pole a few times as well to see if I’d have any luck, but to this day I have still never caught a fish.

We packed our fishing gear back in my Jeep and drove back to the all too familiar Wal-Mart. Going straight to the seafood section, we found individually-wrapped black pepper salmon fillets. Although we didn’t catch these store-bought fish, we just pretended that we did. They were delicious, they were ours, and our mission had been accomplished.

Shot Glasses and Bandanas

Collecting souvenirs is certainly nothing new. Almost everyone, from occasional vacationers to career travelers, like to bring home something tangible to remember a trip.

If you want to break out the dictionary, souvenirs are objects people acquire for the memories associated with them. They bring big business to the tourism industry by promoting local businesses and providing word-of-mouth marketing long after a trip is over.

However, what I find interesting is the type of souvenirs people choose and why. My childhood friend collects thimbles when she travels. My grandma collects bells. And my coworker collects scarves. When I think about these three women and consider why they’re collecting what they’re collecting, the answers are obvious. My childhood friend is crafty, my grandma used to be a teacher, and my coworker loves fashion. 

What about me? For the past decade, my souvenir of choice has been the shot glass. I’ve picked up shot glasses from touristy spots like Niagara Falls and Vegas.

I’ve collected them from destinations I’ve fallen in love with on international trips, like Ireland and London.

I’ve also picked up my fair share of shot glasses from random cities I’ve found myself in from time to time, like Atlanta and San Diego.

If you know me at all, it isn’t surprising why rows of shot glasses line my window sill as evidence of my travels. Plain and simple, I like to drink. Bloody Mary’s, pumpkin beer, margaritas, vodka with anything…you name it and it’s probably on my mind at most times on most days. Not only are souvenir shot glasses easy to find in almost all locations, they also come in handy for hosting parties and for those occasional crappy days.

During the past year, however, I have found myself collecting a new type of souvenir….the topographical map bandana. Much less common than the shot glass, the topographical map bandana is most often found at national park visitor centers. Last Spring, I picked up a Wildflowers of Yosemite banana on my camping/hiking trip in California.

I was excited to find a bandana in Zion National Park while on a canyoneering trip in Utah last Summer.

Perhaps I’m being overly introspective today, but I can’t help but notice that the shift in my souvenir preferences seem to mirror the shift in my life preferences. For the past year, I have found much more happiness while outdoor adventuring than I do in incessant partying. I’m pushing thirty and my hangovers get worse every damn weekend. I’ve been to enough bars, talked to enough strangers, and spent more money on booze than I’d like to admit.

Don’t get me wrong, I still thoroughly enjoy my adult beverages. But these days, I am most satisfied, most at peace, and most like the version of myself I want to me when I’m in nature. That’s not a shameless pitch for my blog, it’s the truth.

With that being said, the key to life is balance. So these days, I buy shot glasses AND bandanas when I travel. I figure, why not satisfy both sides of myself if I can spare a few extra bucks?

So now the question is, what’s your souvenir of choice?

My First Time on Horseback

I have a vague childhood memory of my dad plopping me on a pony for a photo op at the state fair. Besides that, I’d never so much as petted a horse. That all changed one a recent weekend when my boyfriend and I went horseback riding for the first time.

Prior to our horse-filled day, I contacted Dream A Horse, which is a horse rental company outside of Eagle, Wisconsin. I booked a one-hour guided ride on the Kettle Morraine trail. The owner, Owen, emailed me a map of the dream a horse eagle parking lot, which was to be our meeting spot before the ride.

Dream A Horse currently offers one-hour Kettle Moraine Trail rides for $30 and three-hour Eagle Trail rides for $60. For my first time, I figured one hour on a horse would be plenty.

This family-owned business was run efficiently and the guides had the horses ready to go when we arrived at the trail head. Stairs were set up to assist us in mounting the horses, which was considerably more challenging than cowboy movies lead us to believe.

The guides instructed us about “horse commands” to tell the horse when to turn, when to halt, and when to get a move on. I never really felt like my horse, Scarlett, ever truly understood me. Perhaps it was it was my unfamiliar voice or the uncertainty of my tone. Or perhaps she and I just didn’t see eye to eye.

I can’t honestly say that Scarlett, ever went very fast. But that didn’t mean that I wasn’t nervous about her bucking me off at every turn. I had visions of myself being thrown off of her back and trampled in a horrific accident. Fortunately, Scarlett didn’t share my fears and trotted along in methodical form.

My boyfriend was somehow more comfortable on his horse, Prince, despite his equal lack in horse experience. Regardless, both of us are looking forward to more horseback riding in the near future. Since winter is approaching, we are thinking some snowy trails might be nice…as long as someone re-teaches me all those horse commands.