Charles C. Deam Wilderness Spring 2008

Hello all,

This past May my step-father and I made a trip down to the oft' visited wilderness environs of the Charles C. Deam Wilderness, Indiana. My brother and I had already hiked the eastern portion of the wilderness I was keen on exploring the rest of it. I realized we only had a few days to backpack, and with Southern Indiana only a 4 hour drive from casa Gruber, I was able to convince my dad to come with me and explore the western portion.

Convincing him to come was easy. All I had to do was describe some of the personal adventure accounts I had read on the net that detailed the whereabouts of vast caves, mammoth snakes, and unearthly treasures, and he was in.

The western portion of the Wilderness contains trails that are shared by hikers and our equestrian friends. I found the trail system to be well marked and maintained and scattered with horse shit. There wasn't much difference in the topography from my last visit but oh what a difference a season makes! When Sean and I had hit the trail it was Autumn, cold, and dry as a bone. Spring had brought with its arrival a lushness of vegetation that was breathtaking. Cool water seemed to fill every gulch, stream bed, and ravine and we were blessed with mild daytime temperatures and sunshine that seemed to kiss the leaves overhead. We crossed water dozens of times and each crossing brought with it another pristine picture opportunity.

What we didn't know (at first) was that the southern and central areas of Indiana had been hard hit by storms and flooding. Well, armed with a hand drawn map and an abundance of enthusiasm, we made it our trip objective to find the cave. This would prove far more difficult than we had suspected but more on that later.

Day One:
We arrived at the trail head just after 1pm and and were on the trail by 1:30 pm. The sky was gray and overcast as we set off onto the Sycamore Trail. I wanted my dad to have the opportunity of hiking a hikers only trail before we headed west to the other side of the wilderness. We camped that first night near a small pond as a very light drizzle fell on us. It only lasted a half hour or so and after eating we discussed the next day's itinerary - climb the fire tower and then find the cave. We went to bed a couple of hours after darkness fell and rain wouldn't be the only visitor to our campsite that night. Countless numbers of frogs descended upon our camp, taking up positions all around our tents, and generally creating a raucous cacophony of trilling that was ear-splitting in volume. I am not kidding - these tiny little frogs were LOUD and they were everywhere. Needless to say, sleep was a long time in coming.

Miles hiked: about 4

Day Two:
The next day we were both up very early, tired and stiff, but excited to find the cave. We checked our maps and decided to make a side trip to the fire tower. It was the same beautiful vista as the year before only much more green. Dad and I decided to save some exploring time by going back to the truck and driving to the Grubb Ridge Trail Head. From there we followed the trail west, along the service road that marks the boundary of the wilderness to the north and the northern edge of the Hoosier National Forest to the south. We passed through Blackwell campground and eventually made our way north with the intention of connecting up with Hays Trail as somewhere near there we were told we could find the unmarked trail that would lead to the cave. The problem with our plan became apparent just after we reached the junction of Hays and Grubb Ridge - there was water. And a lot of it. Apparently nearby Lake Monroe had breached its own shores and had pushed a 1/4 mile or more beyond the natural peninsula which extends southward. Essentially the entire small valley between Grubb Ridge and the ridges that flank the peninsula and wrap around the Hays was flooded with water that was no less than waist deep right at the trail terminus. I scouted ahead and found an alternate route around this area that was a very nice, somewhat steep, horse trail that did very little contouring and would deposit us on the far side of the valley, a bit northeast of where we wanted to go. We knew the cave lay somewhere across the murky water, possibly under it, and I admit I was feeling a bit discouraged but my dad allowed me to revert to my Tom Sawer/Huck Finn alter ego and keep looking in scout mode. But, before we took off we made another side trip down the Hays Trail just to see what we could see. We weren't certain what to expect but the Hays Trail is flat and filled with beautiful flowers, buzzing bees, and sun dappled forest canopy. Quite by mistake we stumbled upon an unmarked waterfall. It was tiny, perhaps 5 feet wide, but very tall and it cascaded down over several ledges before disappearing into a small ravine bed. I'd say it was a good 50 feet up the slope perhaps more. After some bushwhacking we headed back and continued with our search for the elusive cave.

After following the trail (we dropped back down onto the Grubb Ridge Trail, this time heading east on the north side of the large ridge) I discovered another trail, unmarked, that led back the way we wanted to go. What a great trail this was! It was secluded, beautiful and rugged. We descended for about 15 minutes before crossing a large, fast moving creek. We attempted to cross a very small rapids section when dad slipped in! He sighed, looked around, and with sweat beading on his brow and chest heaving a bit, he gazed up and said, "I found the trail on this side. It goes up and up and up. I thought we were in Indiana!" It was a very fun climb - at least for me. On the other side of this last ridge we stopped for some water before descending once again into the valley that lay between the Grubb Ridge and the Peninsula ridge. We hit bottom alongside the largest creek yet, a small river actually, and I probed the water's edge for about a mile and found a muddy, swampy bottom land, and a small continuing trail that was obviously more game trail than human route. It was now well into the afternoon and I began to worry that not only would we miss the cave but we'd have to strike camp in this muddy mosquito pit.

By divine providence, or merely good luck, we ran across two college aged hikers who had just come from the cave and told us how to get there. We were less than an hour away and even better there were two decent campsites located above the mouth opening of the cave high up on the ridge. Sweet.

We kicked it into high gear and followed what would turn out to be the best trail yet. Once we made it through the recently flooded valley floor we began to ascend quickly. Up and up we went through what just might be the most beautiful and remote section of the wilderness. We skirted the top of the ridge, crossed a deep, cavernous drop off and found ourselves on a ridge-top that looked down on what should have been forest floor but was instead a muddy, watery extension of the southern tip of the Lake Monroe peninsula. We were literally across from where we were forced to change our route earlier in the day. But, where was the cave?

We turned to our left (the path went both ways) and found the two campsites we had heard about and knew the cave was somewhere nearby. I went up and down the sheer, leaf strewn, escarpment walls many times and, after nearly slipping down a rocky cliff I had climbed (more for the fun of it than through any need), I spotted a dark, rocky hole, about 20 yards below me. I'd found the cave! Water was pouring sluggishly from its mouth, to tumble some 200-300 feet down the cliff and into the swamp like pool below. It wasn't cavernous like I had read it described but it was big enough to walk into with only a slight bend at the waist. We made camp and decided that it was already too dark to go exploring. We'd go spelunking tomorrow morning on our way out of the Deam.

That night was pretty cold. Dad fell asleep immediately. I, however, am a light sleeper, and his snores sound like a bear humping a razorback...not exactly a lullaby. But, one of the things I most enjoy about backpacking in the wilderness is the clear skies and the stars. There are so many more to be seen once you are removed from the ambient glow of the city; it's awe inspiring and this chilly night was no exception. Our camp was also visited by some wild turkey and a snake. The turkeys gobbled for over an hour, and it sounded like they were fighting or something, because they made quite a ruckus. I heard many animals, probably deer, splashing in the water far below our campsite and for about an hour straight I heard the howling of three separate coyote packs.

Oh, the snake. How do I know it was a snake? I don't. I just knew it was a snake. I heard something slide up to my little one man tent and I felt a presence lurking just off to my left. I heard nothing for several minutes but I am certain it was there. Some dim, ancient, warning screamed DANGER at me as I lay there, heeding the call of my ancestral instincts, and reverting to my primal roots, if just for an instant. And though I heard no retreating tread, no slithering uncoiling of muscled belly, I knew just as suddenly as I had known it was there - that it was gone. Needless to say, I lay awake for quite some time before falling nervously to sleep.

Miles hiked: there is no way to give an accurate number. Based on the map and the mileage legend I'd say we traveled no less than 18 miles. That's not counting the two trips to the large creek I made to fetch water for my water starved dad.

Day Three:
OK - finally, after rushing through breakfast, and forcing my bone weary dad to get the hell up, I got to crawl around in cold water, dodge bats, and generally have the time of my life traveling through my first real cave. I spent about an hour in there and went a few hundred feet in with only a head lamp I had brought. To those who have never entered a cave what I am about to say might be accompanied by a loud "duh!" But hear me out, willya? It's dark in there. I don't mean dark like your bedroom with no lights on. I don't mean dark like when you camp out at night and there isn't even a sliver of moon. I don't even mean dark like the inside of a kangaroo's pouch which I imagine is pretty dark. What I am talking about is the kind of dark that feels oppressive as if the weight of some unseen force is pressing upon your nerve endings, gobbling up your psychic energy. Once I made my way through the main entrance and had navigated beyond the first hairpin turn and into ever smaller natural passageways, it became that kind of dark. My feeble little headlamp seemed to struggle to keep the darkness at bay. Inky blackness seemed to push in from all sides. The only noise seemed to come from the staccato tap of water dripping onto the watery runoff and the gentle splashing of tiny pale frogs as they danced to and fro in a mad attempt to escape my clumsy feet and the glare of my tiny light. Eventually, I came to the end - at least for me, as I was alone (my dad having stayed at the mouth of the cave) and not willing to lie down in water to squirm into a crevice I knew would lead to another anteroom. I will come back though and I will come out the other side...

We took many pictures of that dark, natural, fortress of rock before we packed up camp and made our way back to the Grubb Ridge Trail. It was a long hike back to the trail head but we made good time. We left in the morning and didn't get back until almost 3 pm - a good 7 hours after leaving the enigmatic Patton cave behind us. We could have shortened the trip by heading left, or east, once we were back on the trail but for some reason we were talking and continued back the way we had come in the day before which stretched out the hike by several miles.

And that's it, another satisfying weekend filled with blisters, sweat, BO, Mother Nature and adventure. I wouldn't have it any other way.

Miles hiked: 12+
Total Miles: 34 + or -

I found this link which takes you on a photo journey through the full extent of the cave's depths. http://indianacaver.com/patton1.htm

Charles C. Deam Wilderness - Indiana 2007

In late October, 2007, my brother Sean and I headed out to the only designated wilderness within easy driving distance of our home. The Deam, as we called it, is situated south of Monroe Lake and constitutes the northern portion of the Hoosier National Forest. It's not a large wilderness, about 13,000 acres, (The Hoosier NF is a little over 200,000 acres) and it's fairly new to the designated wilderness system having been established in 1982. There's still a fair amount of human evidence to be found throughout the wilderness; several cemeteries, a few building foundations, and a short fire road that leads to Terrill Cemetery, and a fire tower (talk about a great view!) but those signs of humanity are slowly being consumed by the wilderness.

Day One:
Sean didn't expect much and was really only there to get some miles in as he always feels that any hike and backpacking is better than the alternative. He was afraid it was going to be lame and "not as fun or cool as Colorado". Arriving at noon we started at the Axom Trail Trailhead and made our way around to the Sycamore Trail and headed to that trail's end near the Terrill cemetery. We found a double blue diamond that headed south along a heavily forested ridge top before turning back and looking for a place to camp for the night. We found a beautiful spot right next to a small pond, a mere quarter mile or so away from the cemetery and what some sources claim was the crash site of a UFO! The evening was a chilly 34 degrees and we heard absolutely nothing throughout the night. Total estimated miles: Segments - 2.5 + 1.2 + 1.8 + 4 +1 plus some wandering around (estimating this Blue Diamond hunter's trail, there and back, as it emptied out near the Sycamore's southern terminus which is a pretty decent stretch on the map) = 10.5 or 11

I was impressed with the trail conditions and so was Sean. The Rangers and staff ought to be commended for the immaculate shape the trails were in. Sean grudgingly admitted that the trails were in first class shape and both of us were surprised by the elevation gain and loss. No, it's not like hiking mountains but I puffed a little on a couple of the switchbacks.

Day Two:
We woke to the first rays of sunlight we had seen since hitting Indiana. I took the pic above at about 6 or 7 am. I was sore. I hadn't been camping in quite awhile and my old army rolls (1/8 inch green pads of some kind of a spongey material) were, while light, pathetic in terms of offering comfort. Of course, Sean had the best Thermarest pad and he laughed at my stiffness. We ate some grub and headed off for the Sycamore Trail at a fast pace. We found the Trail crossing 1.8 miles south and headed east at almost a trot. We were cruising. Per the norm I started developing a couple hot spots and stopped for a minute to put some moleskin on them.n That helped ALOT! Refreshed from our 5 minute rest, we started again and within minutes both Sean and I slowed our pace as we entered into a beautiful pine forest. It was as if we had entered into a kind of time warp. The distinct change in environment came suddenly upon entering this forest, as if a kind of ecological curtain had been drawn over some invisible line we had crossed. The trees were tall and straight and they dominated the scene, seeming to dwarf even the steep cliff ridges that climbed to either side of the trail. Even the wind seemed only a visitor to this place, muted and sapped of its strength, but carrying the scent of pine everywhere. The trail had been covered with fallen leaves, but upon entering this forest the path became carpeted with pine needles that gave the trail an almost springy quality. My feet liked that! Sean turned to me and said, "This place is beautiful. Ok, now I'm glad I came."

We crossed several dry creek beds, (and a pile of garbage left in the middle of one of the more picturesque crossings, no doubt by the college kids who frequent the woods from nearby Indiana University) before making our way out of the pine forest. We went back to my truck along the Axom Branch Trail to get some much needed water. Sean met a Forest Fireman and talked about HotShots training requirements and burn bans in the wilderness before we decided to go back to the Sycamore to find a spot to camp within the forest which had captivated us. This was a big decision because we had originally planned to hike the Grubb Ridge Trail up to the Peninsula Trail to camp along the lake. But the forest and its aged silence beckoned and we heeded the silent call and doubled back the way we came until we hit the perfect campsite. It was like a tiny peninsula surrounded by the dry creek bed with a pretty steep hill that led up, up and up to another short trail which led, we discovered while testing our legs and calves on the steep slope, to the service road that separated the wilderness from the Hoosier NF. Check out this campsite:


The night was even colder than the previous and ice crystals formed on our tents, our gear, and even seemed to be forming in midair. There had been a mist but it seemed to freeze right before our eyes before falling to make tiny tapping noises on our tents. Sean and I talked for a long time that night. We couldn't believe that Indiana had such a beautiful camping spot and that we had somehow found it. Sean fell asleep early but I decided to lay out on the ground for awhile and look at the stars without all the city lights. So many stars...

The biggest difference between our two campsites would turn out to be the noise level. The pond campsite was deathly still while this one teemed with life. The "CRACK CRACK" of deer moving through the forest and down the ridge could be heard all around us. At one point I had to shout as a deer nearly walked right onto my tent. It stopped, snorted, and if it ran away I swear I couldn't hear it. Sean had shouted in a startled voice, "What the hell just ran by my tent?" I laughed, "A deer!" About two hours later I hear the far off cries of several coyotes howling in the distance - - only to be answered by several more not more than thirty yards away! Talk about a shock! The noise levels died down about 3 or 4 am.
Total miles: 1.8 + 4.8 + 2.5 + 2.5 + 1.2 + about 4 = 16.8

Day Three:
We woke up and decided to head out of Sycamore and back onto Axom Branch, get the truck, and hike out to the Fire Tower. Of course our last day in the Deam turned out to be cool, sunny, and perfect. We reluctantly broke camp, said good-bye to the pine forest, made our way the several miles back to the truck, loaded our gear and drove to the trail head that led to the fire tower. As I said earlier, what a view! Take a look:


After coming down from the four story steel fire tower we changed into some clean clothes (God, I stank) and headed home. Total miles: 1.2 + 2.5 + .5 = about 4.2 or so.

Total hiking mileage: 31.5 or 32.5 miles, more or less. in two full days of hiking. Not bad. Here's Sean and I next to our tents:

Cabo San Lucas 2004

My wife and I made our first trip to Mexico with my best friend Bill and his girlfriend way back in 2004. I won't bore you with the details of our vacation other than to make mention of our little excursion along the spine of Land's End.


From the first moment we hit our hotel with its beautiful view of El Arco Bill and I just knew we were going to climb the hill/mini-mountain you see in this picture. It was just a matter of 'when.' Luckily, the girls wanted to do some shopping and knew we'd just be dead weight so they gave us the green light to do what we wanted. the only special instructions we received were quite simple: don't get your selves killed. Uh, ok...

Bill and I wandered around the marina trying to figure out how to get up the thing as it was cordoned off by a very high fence and the black-uniformed federales waved their rifles around and politely told us "No!" when we asked them for some directions.

Undaunted, we made our way around mucho construction and into one of the big hotels on the Pacific side. We acted like we were guests and just waltzed right through the lobby and out onto the sands. From there it was easy to see where we needed to go. We headed down the strand and I found a suitable path up the cliff like face of the huge hill. It was rocky, slippery, fairly steep, but really not that difficult though it was near 100 degrees and I could hear Bill breathing like a cardiac patient in a TB ward. Once we got to the top Bill decided we couldn't go down the way we had come. I disagreed. However, as Bill pointed out it was my idea to climb the thing and as such it was my responsibility to find an easier,safer way down.

Bill complained that he was going to die from the heat before we reached the summit but I went to the top to see how rough it was going to be. Once over some boulders, the going was fairly easy and I was able to convince him that the hard part was over. He left his shady shelter beneath the boulders and made an ascent with me before collapsing near a very large white cross - that made me wonder grimly if it weren't set their for all the other stupid gringos who had dared to make the climb. Me, I was feeling fine and not even winded in the least but Bill had me a little worried as his skin had become more red than his hair. It would get worse for him.

The summit provided beautiful views in every direction. The locals had said that pirates often set their lookouts upon the summit for that very same reason and I could see why. Bill caught his wind after a lengthy sit down to admire the sites while I began to look for a "safer" way down. I must have went up and down about twenty washouts before I found one I knew he could make without too much difficulty.



The problem was that we couldn't head north because of the fence and the policia. Plus, one of the cops had said that an old man lived near the base and had dogs that he would sic on us if we trespassed too close to his home. I had gone a little more than halfway down the east side of the mini-mountain when - I shit you not - we heard dogs barking like crazy. Not liking the idea that we'd get munched on on the cliff face for all of Cabo to see we headed south. Now, they call it Land's End for a reason and even though the spiny ridge of hills and giant rock gets smaller as it is swallowed by the Pacific on one side and the Sea of Cortez on the other the drop offs on the bay side were still 50+ feet straight down into the water where more large rocks waited like hungry teeth. I finally found a way down on the west side, very near what is called Divorce Beach, and coaxed Bill down. By now, I was getting pretty warm myself and I knew Bill was feeling it something fierce. I scouted around while Bill took his sweet time descending to the death pit (that's what we called it - I love the heat but that bowl of sand and rock was HOT, like an oven) and found that we could walk through a small corridor between the rocks and make our way to the bay side. That was good because when we got to the bottom I realized that we couldn't have gotten back the way we came. The waves were too big to swim so we dragged our carcasses to the bay side and were planning on resting up for awhile and then trying to swim across the bay back to land. I was a little worried because of all the rocks beneath the surface plus, a hurricane was churning about 300 miles away somewhere to the west and creating waves that seemed to grow in size every ten minutes. Oh, I forgot to tell you about the sea lions. They were sunning themselves on many of the rocks which jutted from beneath the surface and several were swimming right by where we were planning to launch ourselves. So, swimming wasn't going to be easy especially in our condition.



For brevity's sake I have left out much of the humorous side-stories that occurred during these four hours, of which the sea-lions play a large role, and will focus on our "rescue." Luckily, a boat approached us on the little wisp of beach called Lover's beach. We thought they were coming to rescue us but actually they were ferrying a group of people to the beach who were trying to beat the storm and get some time in one of Cabo's main attractions. W couldn't believe our luck and jumped into the boat and headed home to La Villa hotel. Well, what Bill did can't be called jumping into the boat. He was nearly crushed between the boat and the rock wall as he clung onto the side, literally unable to pull himself up the side as he was so exhausted from the heat and the climb (not to mention a lifetime of smoking and drinking) . The boat fought frantically against waves that were seriously approaching twice our height. Luckily, we were able to pull Bill aboard like he was some floundering mackerel before he was squashed like a bug against the rocks.

The climb itself really wasn't difficult. It did prove to be treacherous footing now and then and fairly steep in places forcing us to use hands, feet and knees to get up some stretches of the cliff face. However, we severely underestimated the size of the thing and how quickly the temperature could climb. What we planned for was what you see in the picture, the other side of it was much larger than we thought.

I think it may be illegal to climb the peak and if it isn't then i know that it is frowned upon so be careful and look out for the dogs. It was a fun climb, a blast really, and aside from the very loose scree, the snakes and scorpions, plus some jackrabbits (long and skinny), it wasn't that dangerous. Wonderful views, cooling breezes, and fond memories helped make this the highlight of my trip.

the grub

Lost Creek and Tarryall Wilderness, Colorado

Hi all,

I spent five days in early August hiking the beautiful mountains of the Lost Creek and Tarryall Wilderness with my brother, Sean. What a great time this was as I hadn't been to this part of the country since I was a kid. This is beautiful country and a hiker's paradise. There was no shortage of trails to choose from, and yet, we rarely encountered other human beings in this wilderness paradise. Some of the trails we counted coup against were: Lizard Rock, Hankins Pass, Goose Creek, Knobby Rock Hill (we named this peak ourselves near our mother's house) Brookside McCurdy and more! The wilderness boundary is located at the end of the Lizard Rock trail, which is a fairly easy but exceptionally scenic trail, and abounds with opportunities to stop and explore. This short trail is alive with wild mushrooms, wild flowers, bear tracks, deer and hawks - not to mention can't-miss climbing and scrambling opportunities!

Once we hit the trail summit we decided to head over, and up, to Hankins Pass. This trail was far more challenging and offered exceptional views of the peaks as well as the valley below. There are many switchbacks as you gain elevation which makes the hike so much more fun. We stopped every now and then to climb large boulders or scramble one of the many small and exposed summits.

Hankins Pass ends as it meets up with the Lake Park Trail (which, sadly we could not hike as it was my last day in the mountains before heading home) and the Brookside McCurdy trails. The Lake Park trail seemed to call out to me on the topo map as it boasted scores of switchbacks and intense elevation gains which surely promised the most scenic views yet as reward for the effort. I know my bro' Sean is up for it so...next time...

Obviously, these elevations and directions would be reversed were you to come from the Goose Creek Trail.

For those interested in checking this area out, the trail head is located at the Spruce Grove Campground, off of the Tarryall Road (City Rd 77) . There is decent parking space available at the Trailhead Parking. To hit the trail, walk through the campground (stay to the right), pass the outhouse and then head across a little bridge - this is Tarryall Creek and it was running like a small rapids the day we went there because of the rains. Make a hard left and pass through a cool boulder tunnel to start on the Lizard Rock Trail and then just stick to your quad map.

Difficulty: ( out of 10) 6.5 - Intermediate with a few sections deemed difficult. You ought to be in good shape. We were about 12 miles out from humans at one point. Not very far for an experienced hiker, but a long way, especially with altitude, for someone who thinks climbing into bed ought to be considered exercise. If you are in reasonable shape, this hike ought to be fun and challenging. if you are Dave Scott or a uber-level triathlete you might feel this is a good warm up before the real action begins.

Elevation gain: About 3500 feet. Yeah, that's decent.

Fun factor: This was intensely fun because of the several steep switchbacks and the myriad of scrambling opportunities.

Humans on Trail factor: (out of 10) 8 - We saw several families and groups at the bottom in the campground We saw no one, not one person in two days, on the wilderness trails...ahh!

Map: USGS Quads: McCurdy Mtn. area

the grub

Enchanted Rock

06 - 08 - 2007, Near Fredicksburg, Texas

While visiting Cross Plains, Texas, for their annual Robert E. Howard Days festival, I decided to hitch a ride with REH stalwart and editor extraordinaire, Rob Roehm and his parents, for a ride through central West Texas. Our aim was to visit as many of the points of Howardian interest that we could.

It wasn't long before we found ourselves at the foot of Enchanted Rock, gazing up its wondrously smooth pink granite pluton sides of this giant dome. What the heck is a pluton anyway? According to wikipedia, "In geology, an intrusion is a body of igneous rock that has crystallized from a molten magma below the surface of the Earth. "
Anyway, geology lessons aside, Enchanted Rock sits at about 1825 feet in elevation. It's pretty large and provides many opportunities to simply hike where you'd like. It has a marked trail and because of its dome shape you can navigate easily between the marked trail and your own trailblazing desire.

There is a designated trail that leads from the base of the rock (the Ranger station) to what might be called the halfway point,marked by a sharply delineated but low shelf, but after that, just keep climbing up as the trail gives way to the dome of rock.

I found the climb to be invigorating but short. It is fairly steep but the surface seems to be made for gripping. I felt like Spider Man as I descended the far side of an insane pitch. With each step I took, it seemed like I was going to step off into the air, such was the visual trick of the curving surface.

Height: 1825 feet elevation, 425 feet above the surrounding area.

Difficulty: (out of 10 with 10 being insane) I am giving the rock a 4. It wasn't terribly difficult to navigate at all. It was steep but only 425 vertical feet up. I was able to walk to the summit without pause though there were others who paused several times on the way up. It seemed to me to be made for exercise! Hill sprints on this would be a killer.

Take Note: There are wonderful opportunities for scaling and scrambling. I scrambled up and down many sections of loose boulders, chasms, very small caves and tunnels. Take note of the islands of vegetation and wildlife that exist at the top in small, pool-like depressions. Also, if you hang around until dusk you might hear the famous groaning and creaking that caused the original inhabitants, the Tonkawa tribe, to give it its mysterious and beautiful name.

Enjoyment factor: (out of 10) A solid 6 for the bouldering and scrambling opportunities alone. A real blast and very fun. It is easy to see how Robert E. Howard could have been inspired to pen the poem, Cimmeria.

The grub

It's been a long while...

Hi all,

I had forgotten about this blog entirely. I know, how could such an egregious lapse of recall occur? Well, I could blame raising my son, Max, who's almost two years old now, and how that left me almost no time to engage in fun stuff like this online journal. Or, I could blame it on my college work and my son...or, I could just admit that I had forgotten I had this neat little piece of the digital jungle. There, I admit it; I simply forgot. Luckily, while I was cleaning out my favorite sites list I noticed a fave link called Iron Legions and a few clicks later here we are again (I actually remembered my password and user name.) It's good to be back. Let's see how long the ride lasts this time!

the grub

Our son is born!

Baby Notice:

Maximus Dempsey Gruber stepped outside the womb September 14th at 5:30 p.m. and weighed in at a healthy and robust 8 lbs. 11.6 oz. I say robust because he was a full month early! You can't keep a Gruber down, or in as the case may be, and try as she might she couldn't keep him in any longer. Such is the way of babies.

His beautiful mother, Yoshiko, is doing well and recovering comfortably at home surrounded by the sweet perfume of baby's breath, diapers, and baby gas. It must be the Roepenack side coming out in him, quite literally, and any recognition of this recessive gene in poor Maximus' genetic makeup is to be forwarded, kindly, to his Grandmother Jamie.

Welcome Max, we couldn't wait for you to arrive and now that you are here, we can't wait to see your face in our every waking moment. You are a blessing.

If you would like to extend your well earned congratulations to the hardest working mama in town, please feel free to leave Yoshi a comment on this here blog.

Chris

Yoshi is due soon

As most of you know my wife Yoshi is about to deliver our little boy. He is due in October but we are starting to think he is going to arrive a few weeks early. Who knows? We'll see soon enough I am sure. So far, everything is going as it should. She is healthy and so is the baby. That doesn't mean she isn't uncomfortable! My word, the litany of discomfort seems endless! She can't sleep, she is always hot, and she is soooo tired. Add to that short list: swollen feet, sore back, headaches, annoying husband (that'd be me - what did I do now?) itchy belly etc. etc. etc. Believe me, I am glad I am not pregnant even though sometimes I feel as if I am right along with her as I am made aware of her every twinge and pain and hunger pang!

LOL - the next time you hear from us I hope to be able to introduce the newest member to the Gruber clan. Until then, I have some feet to rub.

The Grub

Editing job pays off!

Hello everyone,

I wanted to make you all aware that the work I had done in editing the collection of short story boxing gems by Robert E. Howard, entitled Boxing Stories, has paid off! This is just one book in the 5 volume Bison Books (U. of Nebraska imprint) The Works of Robert E. Howard series. This set features many new and exciting publishing surprises covering five distinct genres of fiction - there is something for everyone in this series! Of course, Boxing Stories is my personal favorite but be sure to check out the other volumes as well, you won't regret it.

You can pick up this incredible collection of stories just about anywhere on the 'net by typing these keywords in any search engine -Boxing Stories Robert E. Howard Chris Gruber- or you can go directly to these sites:
http://www.nebraskapress.unl.edu/bookinfo/4751.html (this is the hardcover but you can also get the softcover if you wish)
www.amazon.com
www.walmart.com

Check it out!

An extra special thanks goes out to Leo Grin for helping me land this gig. Thanks bud.

The Grub

Welcome to Iron Legions

Welcome to the online journal of Chris Gruber. Here, he will have the opportunity to keep those few people who care abreast of the things he is involved with. Just remember to check back now and then to see what he and Yoshi have been up to or to let us in on the cool things happening in your life. He will post any big Gruber news right here and nowhere else. In order to say hi or tell him to take a hike you have to sign up. It's easy. Just become a registered user and post away. He's looking forward to hearing from you and remember, be gentle, he has a pit bull!