Amy, the Happy Hiker: Lone Rock Hike & Buckhorn State Park

I first heard about the Lone Rock Hike in a book called Hiking Wisconsin. Today was the first time I attempted one of this writer’s suggested paths.

There were a few things that both intrigued me and made me nervous about setting out on this particular trail: (1) Lone Rock is extremely isolated; (2) it involves a hike up a solitary stone tower without any steps or guides that would have been provided in a state or county park.

Lone Rock is located in the Quincy Bluff and Wetlands State Natural Area, which is on a lonely stretch of road (miles from any highway).

The hike I did the night before was ruined by the constant sound of cars on the highway, so I liked the promise of isolation, but what if anything happened to me? Like what if I twisted an ankle or fell off the cliff? (See mom, I do think about these things.) I ended up telling two of my coworkers about my plans and told them if I didn’t post anything about the trip by Saturday night they should send help.

I pulled into a tiny lot at the sign for the wetlands and started my ritual of applying sunscreen and bug spray.

I was the only one there until a Prius with Illinois plates sped into the lot and plowed into a big pile of sand that I had noticed and carefully avoided upon my arrival. Three college-age girls climbed from the car laughing and shrieking at the predicament of driving into the sand pile. Alpha Girl announced that it was no problem and she’d just back out while the other girls pushed. I watched helplessly as she spun those tires so far into the sand they were completely buried. I tried to figure out a way I could take a video without them noticing, but opted to try to provide some assistance instead.

I encouraged Alpha Girl to stop, asked if they had cell phones and AAA and recommended they call a tow truck. Alpha Girl told me they were fine and could figure it out on their own. So I left. In a hurry.

Just in case they decided to hike first and deal with the car later, I didn’t want to be hiking with them for the next 3 miles.

As it turns out, I never came across a single person on my entire hike and I was perfectly okay with this.

Before heading out that morning, I studied up on the Hiking Wisconsin book, as well as downloaded the step-by-step instructions of a hiker who posted about it online in 2013.

I’m pretty impressed with how accurately both books described my feelings on my hike to Lone Rock. The bugs are bad. Like really BAD. However, the swarms were only mildly annoying on my initial hike to my destination.

The trail is flat and easy and because it hadn’t rained in a few days, the swampy paths were actually mostly dry dirt covered in animal tracks. The only tracks I recognized were deer but there were at least 4 other types of critters using those paths.

Just as indicated in my research, by mile 2.5, I wondered if I would ever see this mega rock feature in the middle of the swampy woods, and then at the next turn it loomed before me.

Lone Rock is a majestic and beautiful rock formation.

Circling the bluffs were several birds of prey (eagles? hawks? turkey vultures? I'm really not good at bird watching). With the soaring birds and blue skies, the scene was incredible. I could not wait to see the view from the top.

Following the detailed instructions of the book, I searched for the recommended location to hike up.

The online hiker indicated, “The easiest and most serene route is to move south down the west wall until you located a north pointing gap between the main sandstone ridge and another outlying parallel mini ridge, and walk up the canyon that separates them. It is quite nice, with pine needles cushioning your steps up.”

The Hiking Wisconsin author wrote, “Mile 3.0 … is west and a little south of the south end of Lone Rock. A lane runs northeast from this point, up the slope and through the open oak woods to the butte. Follow the lane to 100-foot-high cliffs. At the base of the cliffs, turn right southeast and walk 200 feet to a break in the walls that shows wear marks of an impromptu path. This break, a charming 30-foot-wide canyon offers a way to the top that is little more than steep walking. One or two spots require high steps. There is no serious danger on the ascent route.”

Okay, so at this point, if you are my mom or dad, you should probably stop reading. There is nothing else to hear in my story. I hiked and made it home.

After my return to my car, I learned that Hiking Wisconsin was written in 2002, which probably explains why his directions were ludicrous. "...charming 30-foot-wide canyon"? Bullshit. And I have no idea what happened between 2013 and today that made the online guy’s advice so poor, but I do know that pine needles do NOT cushion your steps up. Instead they make the hike extremely slippery and dangerous.

I made three attempts, in three different locations, to get to the top of that damn rock.

My GPS showed my attempts to get to the top.

The first attempt ended at a dead end of boulders, the second attempt ended when I slipped on pine needles and smashed my shin into a rock. My third and final attempt was a doozy.

I made it half way to the top by scaling some narrow ledges and then my foot slipped. I managed to position myself so I landed on my butt as I started sliding recklessly down the side of the bluff. I was gaining speed when the sweatshirt I had tied around my waist snagged on a fallen branch. My slip and slide down the bluff came to a stop with a jerk and I managed to get my feet under me. I was pretty much back at the base of the hill. While I may have been coated with dirt, pine needles and sap, miraculously the only scrape I had was on my shin from my previous attempt. I was shaken up, but a little wiser and decided to call the rock climbing quits.

No amazing view was worth dying for.

Here is where I found myself in another predicament. When I slid down the side of the bluff, I did not land near the path I had taken to Lone Rock. Instead I found myself surrounded on three sides by a thicket (the fourth side was the impossible trip back up the rock cliff). I had no choice but to walk through the brush.

Which turned out to be thorns.

The next five minutes were the worst five minutes of hiking I have ever experienced.

When I finally made it through (with surprisingly only minimal cursing and no tears), I sat on the grass and pulled dozens of thorns from my flesh (and ultimately decided I need to start packing a tweezers in my hiking kit).

Defeated and miserable I hiked the three miles back to my car. Remember those bugs that were only mildly annoying before? They had grown in numbers and gotten bolder trying to fly in my nose and ears.

As I approached my car, I decided this was a hiking fail. Sure I got some pretty pictures, but I was scraped, covered in thorny wounds, and frustrated with the bugs. Even if someone told me they would show me exactly high to make it to the top, I would need some convincing bribery to get me to go back.

Much to my surprise, the Prius was still stuck in the sand and the three college girls were sitting inside. Not surprisingly, they looked pissed. They were not talking or laughing. I had been gone for just under 3 hours.

I was about to offer them some water when an SUV with some young men pulled into the lot. The girls jumped out of the car and were very excited to see them, so I guess their white knights had arrived.

I high-tailed it out of there and headed over the Buckhorn State Park. I’d never been here before, but I had been reading about it and learned they had a shower facility and it was only 30 minutes away. I needed to get the grime off me and thoroughly scrub all my tiny little abrasions, as well as the big shin scrape.

Even in my somewhat foul mood, Buckhorn State Park turned out to be a pleasantly nice park.

If you like camping then it’s worth a try. It’s right on the shores of Castle Rock Lake and has canoe rentals and lakefront campsites.

There were also a lot of trails.

After getting cleaned up, I did two very short hikes (although there were much longer ones I could have done had my failed attempts to climb Lone Rock not been so physically demanding).