View from Indian Fort Mountain

This week we hit the road for the annual “Weasel Fling”, a demented and lunatic springtime weekend tradition starring Yours Truly and a hearty band of misfit adventurers. If you must leave the newspaper before finishing this column, let me just summarize the history of this venerable outing by this statement: bring bail money and a tourniquet.

The weekend first started over a decade ago as an annual 3-day whitewater-rafting trip into the wilds of West Virginia. Since that time the group has acquired the improbable Sea Weasel moniker, several scars, one marriage, an extremely close call with the grim reaper and innumerable brushes with local, state and federal law enforcement authorities. We have also learned where to purchase the best moonshine, which is defined as the kind that doesn’t cause temporary hair loss or blindness.

With that short history behind us, we come to this year’s trip. Our destination was Berea College Forest and the views from the summit of Indian Fort Mountain, a mere 3 1/2 hours from Indianapolis just off Interstate 75 near Berea, Kentucky. It was and is my long held belief that every successful calendar year should include at least one dip in the ocean and one long pause on a hard-earned mountaintop.

Our base of operations was Fort Boonesboro State Park just south of Lexington on the banks of the Kentucky River. The campground is a typical state park campground and not really noteworthy aside from the incessant patrol of the attendants and park rangers. This patrol is much more frequent that any other campground in our experience and certainly disconcerting if you are a member of a group whose mascot is a sharp-tooted critter that kills muskrats for a living.

Keeping our priorities in line, we spent Friday touring the Wild Turkey bourbon distillery near Lawrenceburg, Kentucky, where they make a fine snakebite medicine and drain cleaner. As chief of the expedition, I bartered with the natives in order to secure a supply of this legendary tonic in case of emergencies. Later, I also ordered a preventative dram for the entire crew in case of viper attack because I am a concerned and caring leader.

After breakfast and lots of coffee on Saturday morning, we drove to Berea and exited on Kentucky state route 21. Three miles east of town, we found the Indian Fort theater parking lot that serves as trailhead for the network of paths in the forest.

The first part of the trail is asphalt as it leads up the hill to the amphitheater. We joked that it might be hilarious if the trail was paved and gentle all the way to the top. This would later seem not quite so funny.

Up, up, up

After the theater the real trail began in earnest. Though wide and well constructed, the footpath began to climb as mountain trails tend to do. We continued onward and especially upward.

Later, after some onward and much, much more upward, we arrived at the top. My heart had attempted to leap through my ribcage on several occasions during the climb but we were mostly intact when we reached the flat-topped summit an hour later.

Following the trail, we emerged on a slab of rock that was obviously a spectacular overlook. At least we think so because visibility at the time was only about 10 feet in the misty rain. Unfortunately, as the highest mountain in the immediate area, our perch was solidly stuck inside a thick cumulous cloud.

After pictures and a celebratory round of damp cigars, we followed the trail around the top the mountain. The mist lifted momentarily several times for a quick preview of the panorama the area held when the weather was less inclement.

Chadd....and fog

Leaving the west pinnacle area, we follow a level half-mile trail to a promontory known as Eagles Nest. The trail followed an ever-narrowing ridge studded with pine trees until it suddenly emerged onto open rocks. The group gave a collective “Whoa, Baby!” upon reaching the trail’s end.

The sandstone formed the perfect rock lizard lounge if you want to sit and bask on the lip of a 700-foot drop that overlooks the beginning of the Appalachian plateau. As we ate our energy bars, the sun broke mostly free and illuminated the valley. In the distance, a red-tailed hawk soared below us.

Sitting on such a lofty and unspoiled spot is ideal for thinking grand thoughts and making sweeping plans as you stare at the tiny town and highways off in the distance. The miniature scale of the rest of the world puts things into better perspective and helps to clear the mental noise of modern living. With the clean scent of pine in the moist air, there are few things as pleasurable as sitting on a mountain top.

Now I need a beach.