Story and Photos by BRANDON POLLOCK, Courier Staff Photographer

HARPERS FERRY - The light fades with amazing swiftness in a deep forest, and Yellow River State Forest is as deep as they come in Iowa.

Backpacks at their feet, Doug and Donna Burkle of Cedar Rapids watch the sun sink closer to the treetops when a small convoy of cars wheels into the parking lot. Doors fly open and people spill out, talking, stretching, making a beeline for the lone outhouse near the edge of the woods. It is the last "modern" facility they'll see for the better part of two days.

Fifteen other hikers are joining the Burkles for a weekend-long beginners backpacking trip, organized and guided by Crawdaddy Outdoors, a Waverly outfitter.

Donna, in advance of a backpacking trip to northern Minnesota, received the trip as a Mother's Day gift from her children.

"I'm going backpacking with friends at Gooseberry Falls in June, and I'd never done it before. Now I won't be the newbie. They make the newbie hang the bear bag."

While the low-intensity trip serves as a backpacking primer for some, it has become an annual event for others.

Eyeing the approaching darkness, guides Ben Olsen and Chelsie Thompson decide to get to Brown's Hollow and make camp. After a 15-minute drive over a treacherous dirt-and-gravel road, the group hikes in, sets up tents and builds a campfire. Some turn in right away; others test their marshmallow toasting skills. A barred owl calls as the fire dies; people retire to their tents. Light rain patters on nylon, lulling some to sleep, others to restless thoughts of waterproofing.

In the morning, sunshine streams through the trees and moisture hangs in the air. Birds sing nearby. Deeper in the forest, a wild turkey takes issue with the barred owl, their back-and-forth calls waking some campers. The rest of the camp rises to shake rain off tents, discreetly disappear to the woods, then reappear at the fire for breakfast and a lesson on portable camp stoves. Water is heated for oatmeal, coffee, even a batch of blueberry muffins cooked in a sealed plastic bag.

Food for lunch, dinner, breakfast and snacks in between is laid out on a tarp.

"There are beef sticks, gorp, granola bars, dried fruit, Pop Tarts, Brach's Pick A Mix candy. Gotta have that for backpacking," Olsen tells the group.

Careful selections balance culinary preferences with the accumulating weight each hiker will carry.

Hikers face the challenge of making 30 to 40 pounds of tent, sleeping bag and pad, clothing, toiletries and food fit into a backpack that can be carried comfortably over the coming miles. The longer the trip, the heavier the pack. Using ergonomic design, padding and multiple adjustments, modern packs distribute weight more efficiently. Thompson checks the fit of each pack before the journey begins.

The hike won't be long - about four miles by trail. The purpose is not to test endurance but to gain familiarity with the feel of the pack. The extra mass changes balance and feels clumsy at first. It is harder to compensate for a misstep. Hikers learn quickly to place feet deliberately. Hot spots on your feet signal an incipient blister.

"By the time you start to think maybe this spot is turning into a blister, it probably already has," says Karmen Woulber of Waterloo, a veteran of last year's hike.

Gradually everyone finds a pace. Intervals stretch and contract like an accordion, but no one lags far behind. The trail follows a rocky dry creek bed up through the woods. Eventually, the verdant canopy opens to blue sky at a grassy mound next to a fire tower. Lunch is eaten in the shade of a tall hickory. Packs fall, shoes come off. Nobody comments on fat or calorie content.

The remainder of the hike follows an equestrian trail. Olsen has warned the group: "Horses, for some reason, do not like the shape of backpacks on humans. It spooks them. If we come across horses and there is enough room, step off and drop your pack if there is enough time or crouch down."

Moments into the afternoon hike, four riders approach. Following instructions, everyone moves off the path and takes a knee. The horses pass without incident.

The break provides an opportunity to check out a nearby geocache - objects hidden at specific GPS coordinates throughout the country. Adam Weiland and Eric Blohm use Olsen's handheld GPS unit to get within a few feet.

Olsen lifts a section of tree bark from the ground, revealing a plastic box containing trinkets and a log book. Donna Burkle, a school teacher who has done geocaching with students, signs the book, and everything goes back in the box and under the bark.

The trail widens through an open meadow before descending a steep road of loose rock that proves more taxing than going uphill. The road crosses the bridge over Big Paint Creek and meets the short trail to the final destination at Heffern's Hill campsite. The group splits up to pitch tents. The camp becomes quiet as people rest their feet, talk or take naps. Mystery birdsong provides a lazy guessing game until a pair of grosbeaks zip across the clearing, giving away the answer.

Soon most regain enough energy to take short hikes without packs, feeling virtually weightless. It is worth the effort. Lady ferns and wild columbine cling to giant, mossy boulders sliding in slow geologic procession to the bottom of deep ravines. Liquid notes of orioles and wrens float back and forth across the trail, interrupted by the occasional, staccato beat of woodpeckers. Phlox and violets cluster next to the trail and along the chilly stream on the other side of the hill.

Dinner is freeze-dried entrees - turkey tetrazinni, chicken teriyaki, southwestern smoked salmon, beef patties - giving another chance to practice with the camp stoves.

Matt McLean provides some excitement when Melisa Lammers notices his absence just before bedtime. No one had seen him for an hour and, after a quick check of tent and campsite, a small search party including his aunt, Janelle Eddy, sets out just as rain begins to fall. After a brief search, they spot his flashlight beam bobbing toward them. His evening stroll had become a night hike when the route proved longer than expected.

"I wasn't lost. I'm sorry," he said, getting a hug from much-relieved Janelle.

rain and wind throughout the night conspire to drive shivering campers from sodden tents to huddle around the fire in the morning gloom.

Debbie Hammer holds her hands out to the flames. "I feel like I'll never be warm again," she says.

Miraculously, the sun appears, ushering in a day perfect for hiking.

On the final leg of the hike, the route follows mostly level ground, uneventful except for a barefoot crossing through the knee-deep, icy clear water of Big Paint Creek. The sounds of passing vehicles drift closer as the trail merges with State Forest Road, the feel of hard road surface slightly strange underfoot after a day and a half in the woods. The headquarters parking lot comes into view, bringing an end to the weekend journey - but for some, merely a start to future treks.

Mike Blohm of Traer, and his son, Eric, had never backpacked before but now hope to return in the fall to hike and hunt.

"We've had a pickup camper, fifth-wheel camper, motor homes ? but there is something about backpacking," Mike Blohm says. "It is simpler. You can really get away from it all."

Olsen sums up the experience. "In many wilderness areas, especially outside of Iowa, the only way to get deep into the area is to walk in. You can car camp all over the country, and it's great, but it's also nice to be able to go into one of those more remote areas, explore and stay out for several days, all while carrying everything I need. There is something very rewarding about planning for a trip, putting everything on your back and transporting yourself under your own power to a destination. It really increases the sense of adventure and accomplishment."

Contact Brandon Pollock at brandon.pollock@wcfcourier.com.