Part the Fourth (Earned wisdom)

May 10

I am absolutely amazed! I decided to deviate from the prescribed trail because the park at which I was permitted – by special arrangement – to set up camp was described as 'down by the river'. To get there, I took 25-mile Road into town and worked to the right in a sort-of-straight line. I did this because the Kalamazoo River was, according to the map, on that side of town. I walked right into it!

Not only that, but – at the top of the hill, overlooking Millpond Municipal Park – was an obviously historical structure – the mill – which was clearly being renovated. It has become "THE MILL, haunted house themed restaurant" and banquet facility. It has been open since LAST FRIDAY! The people here have been most kind. I have been given a manager's cell phone and the use of the house phone. I called the local constabulary to tell them who I am, the Presbyterian manse to thank the vicar once more for helping me find the spot and my wife to tell her I'm still alive.

The joint is not exactly jumping, but the bar tender is busy "counselling" the two of us at the bar, and the three members of the staff who are busy sporadically. It's obvious I didn't arrive on the most rollicking night of the week. One of the amenities of which I am taking advantage is the electrical outlet behind the bar. The chicken quesadilla and the second beer are sitting comfortably, but I am swilling down ice water at a rate I have come to recognize as post-hike re-hydration.

The hike from Litchfield – cheat taken – was absolutely lovely. It was a day after rain, filled with green winter wheat nearing a foot high, smooth brown fields just being planted, softly-green-misted fields of corn only two or three inches high, and weather good enough to eat; lots of good-sized clouds and a magnificent breeze. I covered just about exactly nine miles today. Tomorrow is a bit of a test with about thirteen-plus to be covered. I don't really think it's a problem. Stay tuned for whining that night.



May 11

What a day! I awoke – the final time – at 5:45. Although I had been in the tent and prone for nine hours or more, the trucks rolling over the bridge on M-60 did so all night long about a hundred fifty feet from me. Even I had some difficulties with that. Add to the trucks the fact that the air down by the river reached 100 per cent humidity by about 10:00 PM. When I got up, the inside of the rain fly was wetter than the outside.

Despite all this, I felt quite spry. Even though THE BLISTER howls loudly and frequently, it also is recovering faster and seems to get no worse, so I can just go ahead and walk on it. I ate my powdered bacon and eggs, drank my excellent coffee, and was packed and off by a bit past eight.

Because I had been told that if I didn't get to Marshall's Calhoun County Fairgrounds by 4:00 PM, they would lock the bathrooms, I spent a half-hour trying to find a working pay phone in Homer to say I would DEFINITELY be there. I was reduced to dialing Operator because of repeated glitches. What most people – including myself – have forgotten is that the Operator will only assist you if the call is charged to your home phone number. I, of course, in desperation, said, "Yes," only to be informed that there were already campers there, so not to worry. What I did NOT realize at the time was that my poor wife had been contacted by the Operator (from somewhere in Bangladesh) and asked if she would accept charges. With the expectation that SHE was the recipient, she said, "Yes," and promptly heard NOTHING. She then tried calling the pay phone (fax-machine noises), the local police (Yes, they knew who I was and had found my adventure quite fascinating). The lady at the police desk said she had waved to me earlier that morning, and that I was nicely dressed (Pam thinks I was being compared to Homer's one-and-only homeless person). The final decision was that Pam had probably suffered a dropped call (which happens all the time and not to worry). The constabulary promised to keep an eye out for me regardless. Of course, I was blithely unaware of any of this, until I arrived in the fairgrounds and was delighted to find a signal for my cell phone, and appalled to hear the message Pam had left on it. I think it was Charlie Chaplain who said, "Comedy is what happens to somebody else."

Today was HOT (low eighties). Morning was pleasant enough even with the midwest mugg in force and no breeze. The estimated distance from Homer to Marshall on the old NCT official map (no other one available as yet) was 12.7 miles. I clicked off seven of those miles with hardly a pause except to check my map. Then I got to Homer road (which of course leads AWAY FROM Homer and TO Marshall (for some reason it doesn't actually make it all the way TO Homer; go figure). Homer Road went on, and on, and on. I spent what seemed forever walking over the tall, lumpy, often very tilted grasses and gravels at the edge of a road busy to the point of dangerous. My GPS says I logged 14.5 miles to get here. Well, I'd been wondering if I would be up to a fifteen-mile day... !

The cool front just came through. It consisted of a lot of wind and a just-miss thunderstorm that went north of us. It's already nicer. When I get up it should be about forty-five degrees, and then only sixty-six or sixty-seven tomorrow (and I get a bath!).

I'm pretty tired. I think I'll try for another nine-hour night. This one promises to be a LOT quieter! The only negative about this or any other evening so far was the response of the Good Sam Directors who were already at the fairgrounds to prepare for next weekend's RV spectacular. I dropped my pack, grinned at the four people stationed across the "street" from me and said, "Howdy"! They very quietly and – perhaps disapprovingly – said, "Hello." They have not spoken a single word to me since. I feel quite invisible. I guess the fact that I'm not getting three miles to the gallon – and have no golf cart – has put me in a poor social position.

May 12

I'm in a motel just east of Battle Creek. I hiked more than fourteen miles again today. Ten of those miles took me four and a half hours, so my strength is growing. THE BLISTER has progressed, too, so that it now includes the space between my first and second toe. The big toe itself is a little puffy. I am not sleepy in the least, even though it is after midnight. Part of that is simply that my conditioning is catching up with the distances I have been making – except for tmy right foot. It may have something to do with the diet coke I had with supper.

The motel, however, is the story. It's back-story alone is quite extensive. During an on-line search, I discovered that the Kimball Pines Motel was right on the NCT as it jogs slightly east on the business loop of I-94. When I called the place, to set up a reservation, I was taken aback to discover that a night here would cost me only thirty-five dollars. I also found it strange that the fellow to whom I spoke, said I should write him a letter specifying the day of my arrival. No reservation, as such, was taken. I then called the county (it runs a large park just across the street) to see if the neighborhood was at all questionable. The woman I talked with said that she drives the road to work, and assured me she saw no problem. I dutifully wrote the requested letter, and was surprised and gratified to receive a phone call from the apparent owner assuring me that I would have a place.

When I got here this afternoon, I found a nineteen-forties house in the center of an ell of sixties-vintage motel units that have obviously been upgraded in somewhat odd, but fair-quality workmanship. The original windows, on the other hand, are still in place. The sign out front matches the sixties period as well. The "no-vacancy" sign has neither the "no" nor the "vacancy" lit. I finally found the office which was really the enclosed back porch. I was greeted by a gentleman who looked completely blank when I announced that I was the backpacker he was expecting.
It seems that the owner of the place – and, I hope, the brains of the outfit – is the brother who: 1) is a high-muckety-muck mason, 2) is spending the weekend in Indiana at some important function, 3) had left this gent with several bags of oreos in charge of the establishment. The 'boss' had left no information on "the board" regarding my existence so my new 'host' was in somewhat of a quandry. Eventually, he decided that my story sounded good, and was then horrified to think that one of his contemporaries had walked seventy miles in the past six days. He concluded that he could not actually turn me out in the street, so gave me a room that may have been already rented and paid for, but would not be used this particular night. You see, I gather that most of the rooms here are rented for long periods to be used by people like emplyees of the railroad (yes there is one not too far away) who are benighted away from home due to work requirements. My host even suggested that the police rent rooms by the month or year. That leaves me with really nervous visions of late-night, quasi-legal meetings and/or interrogations.

At any rate, I am sitting on a very clean bed in an immaculate room The shower is oddly finished and tiny, the sink tilts if I lean on it. The only source of light is in the center of the ceiling. Cable for the TV comes right down through the ceiling in the corner. The furnace kept putting out heat even after I disconnected the electric plug until I turned the gas line completely off. But I am content. Interesting how cozy such a place can seem under the right circumstances.


* * * * * * * * * * * *

Now for somewhat sad news. After working for two months to set up this extremely extended hike, I'm going home tomorrow. I'm concerned about my foot, but that really relates to two more important issues. I'm carrying too much weight, and my current itinerary is too ambitious. As I finished out my training in April, I had begun to fear that this might be the case. Unfortunately, the southern part of the trail in Michigan appears to require large distances of almost entirely road miles until it enters the national forests and state forests. One of my objectives will be to establish lists of places to stay that are both satisfactory and consistent rather than one-off deals made for the odd individual camper/hiker.

The real capper came when I realized that I had not only planned poorly from Jonesville to Homer, but that I had repeated the error in setting up an eighteen-mile hike across Battle Creek for tomorrow. I think I could have worked my foot into acceptable shape very easily if I had laid out several more nine-or-ten-mile days, and even have sustained a few twelve-to-fourteen-milers in fairly close succession. Tomorrow's hike with no way to break it up is completely out of the question, especially given the foot problem I have developed.

I have had a delightful six days following a path that took me through Midwest farming country at a lovely time of year. I've learned a great deal about what must be done if that path is to be followed by us "ordinary" hikers rather than a few overly-energized, thin young twenty-something's. I am trying, too, to remember that my plan was to have the enthusiasm at the end of my trip to go back to it in the future. If so, this is a good time to leave before I do myself harm with an un-realistic goal. Lastly, I've learned that soloing is not for me. I need company – one person's in particular – so I need to find a way to do shorter days using shorter time periods. I'm not done. I just need a break! Huge thanks to all the NCT people who encouraged and helped me along the way.


May 13

While I wait for my ride, I end up spending the day in the company of a group of renaissance re-enactors who call themselves the KNIGHTS of IRON. They are rehearsing for their July gig in the local renaissance fair. Today is a photo shoot. They are a delightful combination of college people and life-time Arthurian fascinates. The guys, especially, offer a running combination of Dungeons and Dragons references and Star Wars IV, V, and VI dialogue. I find it interesting that those three original films still have the most impact on young people.

The rehearsal is being done in Kimball Pines County Park because the formerly-Kalamazoo-County renaissance fair has taken a thirty-year lease on this location. It looks like a beautiful place for it. The festival starts Saturday, July 7.

The odor of wild honeysuckle is everywhere!


* * * * * * * * * * * *

Things backpackers must eventually learn for themselves:

1. The right amount of water is about one liter for every five miles. You don't have to carry it all, but you'll be a lot happier – and safer - if you figure out how to get it!

2. Hiking blacktop is fast, but hard on the feet.

3. Hiking off trail is slower, but easier on the feet; can be hard on the knees and ankles.

4. Hiking on the edges of busy highways is killing; tall, lumpy grass, lumpy gravel, ankle-busting stones, and sharp tilts from left to right. Biggest hazard: a stumble too close to oncoming traffic. Given a choice, take a slightly longer, less busy route even if your dogs are howling.

5. Too far, too fast, too soon is just as deadly to success in hiking as in jogging.

6. If the trip is longer than a week, leave frequent whole days for:
a. rinsing and drying one set of clothes.
b. resting, fishing, meeting the locals, exploring the area weightless.

c. rain delays.

Part the Third (Nothing ventured ...)

May 7

LIFT-OFF! I'm sitting on a man-made cliff in Lost Nations State Game Area. For some reason it has been acceptable to turn one of the very tall hills into a gravel pit. For whose benefit, I know not. I am at the summit of the remaining hill with a hundred-foot drop outside one of the doors of my tent. If I have to get up in the night, I hope I remember to go out the west side.

It was very difficult to send my sweet lady home from the Ohio border without me, but one of the reasons for struggling up this hill was in hopes of getting a cell-phone signal. It worked! The tower is blinking solemnly at me from somewhere in the vicinity of Pittsford; not strong, but solid. I am looking down on a flock of crows about half a mile away as they jockey for roosting spots for the night. While cooking my mac and cheese, I watched four deer bound across the road that leads into the gravel pit. they were followed in a very leisurely fashion by a faun.

The road from the border to here rose to meet me almost the entire day. I started in the southern-Michigan version of rich, flat, Ohio farmland. For the first six miles I was surprised to see no work going on in the fields – although there was plenty of work already done to be seen. After about 1:00, however discing and planting was going on everywhere. Everyone who passed had a smile and a wave. Even the numerous dogs I met seemed content to come no further than the edge of their yards. One puppy violated the rules, but it was obvious he thought I wanted to play. He went back very nicely when I insisted.

The land became more rolling with every mile. The trip down to the lake to pump water was precipitous enough, but the final climb to this lofty spot put me in a true sweat after 11 and a half miles of road walking. I took every precaution I could think of to protect my knees, and it seems to have worked. Even with last Thursday's third twelve-mile walk in a week, tomorrow will be the first time I have put in two long walks back to back. If I can do that nine miles without too much trouble, I'll feel like I'm on my way. At least tomorrow the path will be softer!


May 8

I am nine miles further after a HOT day. It was "only" eighty degrees, but the Michigan summer humidity came with it. There was a lovely breeze from time to time, but hiking in Lost Nations State Game Area made the breeze mostly unavailable. The woods were beautiful, especially the quickly-moving little creeks, one of which, being a bit overfull, proved that my left boot is no longer totally waterproof. Lost Nations contains a large number of glacial eskers that dwarf any I've ever traversed. The views downward into wetlands and waterways is only a tiny bit short of breathtaking. Early in the day, a startled fox proved that even wild animals don't move quietly on dry leaves. He would have been much better off to sit quietly and watch me pass. There is one particular small treasure of a lake that made me want to portage a tiny boat back in one day for a day of fishing and exploring.

The feet got a real workout. When – about three quarters of the way through – I missed the well marked path, it may have been Freudian. I simply forged ahead to Osseo by road. That helped bring my average traveling speed close to two miles per hour. Mainly, I kept having to stop to 'water up'. I kept my hat on in the sunniest parts of the day, but I still have rosy cheeks!

I am camped in The Poplars, a house trailer and RV resort. Most of the members are not here yet, so the area out behind the pole barn is quite deserted. Some 'personals' are hanging to dry on one of the kiddy swings. The air is still quite warm. Like most lakes, Lake Pleasant is in rather a hole so any breeze in this neighborhood doesn't even tickle the tops of the trees here. Tomorrow, I get a Bed and Breakfast in Jonesville, only another nine miles on.

What worries me is that somehow I overlooked the nearly seventeen-mile trek from Jonesville to Homer. This to be followed by twelve, fifteen and fifteen miles. I had hoped to start a little more slowly – which I have – and build up gradually. I'll just have to wait and see how my day goes tomorrow. I would hate to do a 'cheat', but I think I can stay on schedule if I can get to Homer without doing myself damage. I have promised myself that I will just be realistic, but this goof so early on is frustrating.


May 9

The morning was NOT restful. I awoke at six to a tent totally dry; not even any dew on the rain fly. As soon as I set up on a nearby picnic table to take my blood pressure – a new daily task since March – I heard a rumble of thunder that was clearly too near for comfort. I decided that, if I could strike the tent and pack up, I could get to a roofed-over area near the public restrooms and complete my morning tasks. Good plan! I was lucky I hadn't stuffed the rain fly away as I usually do, because the rain started rather suddenly and revved up quickly. I was sure that anyone watching would have been highly amused to watch me throwing everything into a pile, higgledy-piggledy in the best keystone-cops fashion, into a large pile and then throw myself next to it while trying to cover both the pile and myself with the rain fly.

It worked! My towel ended up with a damp corner, and the pack lid stuck out just long enough to get wet. That's where the water bottles and water pump go, so no real harm. Breakfast, wash-up and re-packing took a little extra long, but it also gave me time to guess that the storm was not really an isolated one, and to decide to cover both myself and my pack for the day. I made only one brief attempt to uncover in the morning, at which point it began to rain again steadily. It rained, and it rained, and it rained. The only difference between hiking with rain gear off and with rain gear on is that the first is drainingly chilly, and the second – while warm – becomes increasingly like wearing a mild-temperatured sauna.

I did follow the rails-to-trails path from Osseo to Hillsdale. In the rainy mists it was a hall of phantoms. A deer crashed out of the underbrush and leaped the path a bare fifty feet ahead of me.

I didn't follow highway 99 from Hillsdale to Jonesville, but walked up a very familiar hill to the Hillsdale-College campus where I was a college freshman (memories of hot October sun). It was nice to notice that venerable old Central Hall has been renovated. It is understandable-but-sigh-provoking that the two side buildings on the central square have been tastefully replaced by modern buildings in the same style. I would have visited those damp old music-building practice rooms one more time; perhaps to meet the ghost of Dr. Brown or Dr. Hymes wandering the halls.

On to Jonesville the 'other' way, via Hillsdale Road. It was a little longer (ten miles total), but led me right to my bed-and-breakfast on Maumee Street. It's always a pleasure to discover a gem! The present owner of George Munro's 19th-century dwelling is extremely proud of it, and rightly so. It is the first frame house built in Jonesville, and its first brick house as well. The brick portion's walls are three bricks thick and were insullated with horse-hair. It has been upgraded with all the modern amenities, and is being restored and improved patiently and lovingly.

After a soaking day of hiking and a charming meal at local eatery, my spirits have improved tremendously. Add to that, the mistress of this establishment wishes to meet a visitor from foreign parts – Idaho – at a friend's house in Litchfield, eight miles up the road. She will take me there, and the hike to Homer becomes do-able! I recognize that this is a bit of a cheat, but I think I can handle the rest of my itinerary from there.
One of my cheif sources of worry is a bruise just below the second toe on my right foot. This represents a re-curring and on-going problem that could squelch this trip if it cannot be fixed. I finally decided to try moleskin, and it seemed to help just moving around the neighborhood. If that's the solution, I'm a dope for waiting to try it! The rest of my body is beginning to feel reasonably comfortable with its job. On to the next thing!

Part the Second (Almost There)

II. April 7, 2007

Wow! Exactly a month from today I will be setting down my dogs at the Ohio border to begin the big trek. I celebrated by visiting my local REI 'garage sale' and then going for another nine-and-a-half-mile hike. The high temperature today was expected to be thirty-two. 'Breezes' were from ten to twenty mph accompanied by occasional snow squalls. The really bad weather hit while I was driving out to Brighton, and I though briefly about heading back home. Then I heard about the blizzard folks in Marquette are having, and decided I might want to toughen my attitude. The day turned out to be more like a really pleasant day in February than early April. The big plus was that – on a Saturday – there were only a few bikers and runners/walkers braving the cold.

The snow on the trail got slippery as the air approached freezing, which became a little wearing. I had on my big boots and my daypack, and was determined to revise my stride so I can last the trip in May. I finally figured out that it's my forward reach that is aggravating my right knee. I must take a far shorter stride than I am wont to do, and then I can push forward with my back leg as hard as I like. I can even transfer to a shuffle/near-jog without changing anything except my turn-over speed. No more of those long, youthful ground-eating strides for me, I fear. Nonetheless, I finished the trip in just over three hours. Most importantly – although my quads and groin muscles need a lot of training in the new stride – the knee is actually better than it was after Thursday night's choral rehearsal and two Good-Friday services yesterday. Standing seems to be more damaging than walking. Sure glad I'm not trying to stand in front of a classroom five hours every day!

The garage sale?! Only a new pair of shoe cushions and some new liner socks. They weren't on sale. The latter are wool blend so my wife won't be wandering off with this pair. I got to REI later than I intended and most of the good stuff was picked over pretty thoroughly. Besides, I really have everything I need. It would be nice to replace my old tube tent with a much taller and easier-to-erect tent, but I wouldn't be cutting any weight. It would be lovely to get a titanium cook set, but I'm only carrying one pot, for pete's sake. Backpacker Magazine came today, and they show a new three-layer, breatheable shell made in the UK for only $275. Rosanne Roseannadana was right! It's always somethin'.


April 9, 2007

Well, I finally hiked fourteen miles! It was as easy as taking both Island Lake trails one after the other. I turned onto the nine-miler from the six-miler with some real trepidation. The moment of truth came when I had gone a full nine, and was about five miles from the end of the loop. I was having trouble with the ball of my right foot (on fire, it seemed) when I began slouching into my old country walk. I had never intended to go fast, and had changed my stride repeatedly. My objective for the day was to finish at better than two miles an hour, but mostly to finish. I had also taken my ash walking stick for the first time in the thirteen years of its existence. Up to now it had been a home-made decoration cut to suit my long legs. As I kept trying to spare my right foot and knee, I slid gradually into an 'I don't care anymore' mode. My stride lengthened on the right side. The knee stopped popping as I reached forward, and – with a little caution – I found the last four miles better than the previous three. As I hit the marker before the final mile I sat down on a secluded bank of the path. The stillness was magical. The cold weather seems to have sent a great many critters into waiting mode. The breeze was so still I felt a bit over-warm. The only sound was a dry, stubborn oak leaf on a nearby sapling twisting back and forth, still refusing to join its mates in the April leaf litter. It would have been easy to take a few steps off the trail and set up for the night. Unfortunately, someone would have put a ticket on the Escape about ten o'clock, and I didn't actually have the tent. Six hours and twenty minutes for fourteen miles is very encouraging.

I was surprised to find that I had enough energy to go grocery shopping after eating supper and visiting our tax accountant; the other April tradition.

I now believe I can do this thing. Although I wouldn't yet relish getting up tomorrow to repeat today's performance, I'm actually pretty sure I could.

Oh, the where-to-stay-in-Homer question seems to have finally been answered. I called the Presbyterian Church there because it was listed in the Homer Chamber of Commerce, and Nancy Carle, office manager extraordinaire (and a fellow Scott!) hooked me up with the town park by the river. I think this is actually going to happen! Up until now, I had visions of sneaking into some farmer's fence row after dark, bone weary, and waking up to – at least one – large dog and members of the local constabulary because I had overslept. I wonder if the park has a bear pole.


April 13, 2007

I did it again! This time I took my GPS and set it to 0.05 miles so I could record every twist and turn of the trail. The result: I walked 15.12 miles instead of just 14.5 as I had estimated. The GPS also told me that I averaged 2.4 mph over-all, and that my traveling speed averaged 3.0 mph. I still finished in a little over six hours, but I now know that was because I rested/ate for one hour and twenty-five minutes of the total trip. What a wonderful little device (another Christmas present from a generous and understanding lady)!

The weather finally warmed a bit. Two days of snow, wind and rain finally gave way to a fifty-degree day and a sky that may have been deeper than just cerulean blue. All the ground covers that have been waiting patiently under the snow have revealed themselves with a vengeance. The frogs – at least the larger ones – began singing again somewhere around noon. Having waded into some of these vestigial/ephemeral ponds to investigate, I can assure you that size cannot be judged by volume of sound. The number and variety of spring frogs is amazing. A year or two ago, I found a frog singing fit to break my eardrums who was less than half an inch long, and so gravid that she almost could not move along the grass stalk to which she was clinging. What a wonderful world!

In my second-to-last mile, a long stretch along a tributary of the Huron River, I was confronted by at least two dozen sunning turtles sliding into the water as I passed their partially-submerged logs. Why there were so many in twenty or thirty yards, with many other seemingly ideally situated logs farther on, I have no idea. Their treatment of my footsteps as a threat when they had obviously ignored bicyclists on the same path minutes before is intriguing as well. What a wonderful world!

The body?!? No hot foot! My knees complained perhaps a bit less than before. The stride is getting more consistent. The hips and their related ligaments and muscles, however, remain discontented with my intentions. As I stood up from my second sandwich and my final rest stop three quarters of a mile from the end of the journey I was subjected to little muscle spasms in my upper front hip/thigh area that would have been fascinating had they not been so uncomfortable. I think it was a good thing that they were perfectly symmetrical. This past Tuesday, however may have provided the most universal entertainment. While tutoring a student in the OCC PASS 'fishbowl' the back of my left thigh decided to manifest it's displeasure with my Monday hike by cramping in a way with which I am all too familiar. I caused a minor sensation by stretching my left leg against the wall above the light switch. Then, when my left leg decided to display a sympathetic cramp, I had no choice but to extend it full length on the edge of the table. The whole event lasted only half a minute or less, but – with my wife's explanation – my planned expedition got a good bit of advertising in a very short time. Today's bodily machinations may yet have me exploring anatomical literature for better descriptions of what this ancient body is up to. I take encouragement from the fact that today hurt less that Monday last.

On the way back from the State Rec Area, I stopped at Gander Mountain to buy a fishing license and a bulk package of Mountain House freeze-dried eggs with bacon. Although they are the only place I can buy a pound and a half of such a high-quality product, the place is still a little scary. The Customer Services area was staffed by two young women, but the odor of testosterone in the place was quite amazing. I'm surprised that I didn't arrive home wanting to kill something. The exhaustion from six hours in the woods may have helped.


April 17, 2007

Students' needs are tailing off in the tutoring center, or else the students are simply succumbing to the warmer weather. Of my two Tuesday students remaining I saw one for about five minutes. I had suspected this was coming, so dressed for a walk. There is a hiking path along the north side of campus that totals about a mile, so I started there, headed two miles south, a mile west and came back to the center of the trail on campus. That was only 6.6 miles, so after supper, I took off north and west through my neighborhood. When I got far enough from home (about 4.4 miles) I headed back, varying the way as much as I could. Over the course of the day, the mid-west's share of the east-coast nor-easter finally blew itself out, and cloud cover slid in to keep evening temperatures from dropping uncomfortably.

Although we hit fifty-four degrees yesterday, today is cloudy again. A sharp breeze is rising again, and today is likely to be filled with on-and-off rain showers. Again! A radio commentator this morning declared that there has been no April so far; just thirty-one days of March.

The really great news came at the end of the hike. Although the right foot felt a bit bruised from all the steps on concrete, the leg muscles were quite content with their workout. The knee that has caused so much comment was rather achy Tuesday morning due to a twist it got while rebuilding several fence Monday. In the course of other long hikes, I have discovered that careful walking with proper foot placement is actually therapeutic. When I arrived home last night, the knee felt extremely good! I slept well last night – for five hours – and woke today unable to sleep past 4:00.

I have found some interesting equipment in various places. A big decision involved a bear bag. After much waffling I chose an Ursack. At least I shouldn't have to worry about it if I make a respectable effort to hang it properly. It also puts other night critters pretty much out of the picture.

I found a dry bag for my cell-phone and GPS in our local Meijer store, and a very lightweight dry bag for my computer on line. I'll be interested to see if dragging all this technology along turns out to be worth it. Up 'til now I've hiked with the basics in backcountry (Isle Royale) where even a cell phone was pretty much un-usable. I'm now going to be trying to update a blog every few days and maintaining the church web site from the trail. I'm anxious to see how my cell coverage works on the west side of the state by trying to call home, or Chicago, or Kansas City (or wherever Pam has trotted off to) at least once a day. We live in interesting times!


April 20, 2007

I just hiked ten miles … but with a thirty-five-pound pack. Earlier this evening I tried to set up an equation so I could see if ten miles with today's pack was anything like equal to fifteen miles with a little knapsack. My results on paper were nothing like the reaction from my body! Whatever the relationship between carrying increased weight and the resultant muscle aches, it certainly ain't linear! It may be exponential!

Over the past few days, I had begun to feel rather fit as my legs began to handle longer distances with increasing ease. I had even begun to wonder if I was improving too rapidly for my approaching need. No longer! Although I left the state park convinced that I could have gone fifteen miles today under duress, I had spent the second half of the hike in increasing "discomfort". From the beginning, the tops of my thighs – about where the trouser seam opens to become the side pockets – began to tremble microscopically at every step as if unsure they were up to the job at all. It was the usual message, but the tiny cramp that develops in those muscles started early and got progressively fiercer. I lasted five miles pretty much without stopping, but after lunch, the same thing started sooner and progressed to severe. In the last mile or so the endorphins kicked in, and I moved at a good clip. My over-all average was about two and a half mph. Later, however, my wife found me pretty amusing. Every time I got up from my theatre seat, I moved like an eighty-year-old until I worked everything loose again.

I am very pleased that all complaints are muscular, which means they are amenable to continued exercise. My son the veterinarian – while in college – seemed to enjoy relating facts on aging as he discovered them. The one that is evident at the moment is that building muscle mass becomes progressively more difficult as we age. I'm glad there are still three weeks left before lift-off! Nonetheless, if I had to start tomorrow, I could do it!

The weather people had some trouble predicting today's temperature. First it was going to be sixty-four degrees, then sixty-eight and then seventy-two. We actually made seventy-four. I think the poor dears were afraid of appearing outlandish in view of all the days previous that were supposed to get to sixty and hadn't made it. It was a beautiful day; the kind of day best appreciated after two weeks of March-maybe-February-in-April weather we've just, well, weathered. The surprise comes when you greet the breeze with relief crossing the same open ground that caused you to pull your hood down tighter a few days ago. The still places in the woods were almost too warm where the sun could get in.

Two black ducks, the same amusing turtles and a migrating sandhill crane were the rewards of the day. Just into some cover near a picnic area was the skeleton of a deer that didn't make it through the winter. Scavengers had made a thorough job. Fur – no hide – and bones are the only things left. It's tough being a wild thing, even in southeast Michigan, in winter. For all those who've made it to this spring, the lush times are everywhere.


April 23, 2007

I have a theory which, I'm sure, will fascinate all who read this. Many years of standing at a chalk board, sideways to my class, primarily on my left foot, hanging off the top rail of said chalkboard with my right hand, waiting for questions about assignments from my classes has made my right leg noticeably weaker than my left. Trying to walk substantial distances in a smooth and balanced fashion seems to bear this out. Today's nine – ten-mile hike continues to cause much more discomfort on the right than the left. The differenced between the after-effects of Friday's hike and today's is that I'm moving quite easily even after sitting for some time. Today's pace was better as well, and now it's a matter of continuing and lengthening the trips.

What I must do is find a way to mount my GPS so that it has consistent access to the sky and I have consistent access to it. Today, at journey's end the poor thing tried to tell me that I had traveled nearly twenty-six miles at a rate of nearly twenty-two miles per hour! This has a great deal to do, I think, with the fact that it was dangling almost straight down from the top of my backpack while swaying and twisting as I walked. The wind likely didn't help.

Today's weather was expected to be near eighty degrees with winds gusting up to fifty mph. I had a student to see before her exam, so I didn't get to the state park until 1:00. Temps were in the mid seventies and fascinating clouds were scudding in from the west. My bosses at OCC had questioned my sanity for going out for a walk in such weather. The combination of earlier-than-expected clouds and the sharp breezes helped keep the air – and the guy under the big pack – relatively cool.

Two weeks to lift-off!

Part the First (Getting Ready)

North Country Trail Diary
By Mike Dundas (2007)


I. March 19, 2007

Well! I've finally done it! That is, I've finally carved out a piece of my life to fulfill a long-time dream: to hike a major section of the North Country National Scenic Trail. So far, this has required much more grim determination than I had thought. Not only have I made myself unavailable for good friends' weddings and my job as the church choir's section leader for a month or more, but I have – by implication – cancelled out a number of opportunities that may have proved less consuming, equally pleasant and 'safer'. I'm even going to be away from my wife on our wedding anniversary! The problem with such a project is the number of chances one offers one's self to put it on hold until 'one more thing' or another is out of the way. In a life as rich and full as mine is already, the urge to temporize is as selfish as the urge to go adventuring.

I won't set foot on the trail until May 7, but the process of creating the rather large hole into which the adventure will fit has already consumed several full days. I have looked my best friend in the eye and said, "I really want to do this!" That may have been the shortest – and the most difficult – part. After all, her agreement to support me meant not only that I owe her a real debt of gratitude, but it also cancelled the only serious excuse for not continuing. Since this is my dream, not hers, it also means I will have to do without her company for the full time. I have informed several people who might have used my services that I would be unavailable for a time. This includes striking deals about services already tentatively assumed. I have spent most of three days laying out an itinerary I may not be able to maintain. I have called and e-mailed NCT members for help to find lodging and supplies. I have even made commitments to be at certain places at certain times by specific dates while on the trail! Most unnerving of all: I have begun telling everyone I know that I am going to do this thing. Now I'm well and truly stuck with it!

I'm sixty years old. I backpacked for the first time on Isle Royale with the Moose-and Wolves expedition (directed by Dr. Rolf Peterson of Michigan Technological University) when I was fifty. Over my years as a teacher, I switched every few years – from music, to theatre, to history, to elementary classroom, to middle-school math. I began reviewing the latter at age fifty and finished the second level of calculus by fifty-five. My objective then, as now, was to avoid a life of complacency, and – hopefully – to keep myself interesting as well. I have definitely avoided boredom! Not being boring remains a work in progress.

Having the time to make a journey like this is, in itself, a dream come true. In the middle of the career that feeds one's family it can be hard to believe in such multi-facetted freedom that allows the full arc of usefulness and self-indulgence. Since retiring from teaching in June of 2005 many hoped-for objectives on my life-list have been interfered with by others from that same list. This spring it is high time I began working on this one. It will need some years to complete.

The plan is to be dropped off at the southern border of Michigan near Waldron and travel toward the Mackinaw Bridge. Somewhere about the 10th of June, I hope to be in the vicinity of Kalkaska near the cottage of some down-state friends. At that point, I will need to get a ride back home to Southfield, a northern suburb of Detroit. I will have covered about 400 miles.

I am very concerned that I will not be able to keep to my itinerary. It often requires that I make fifteen or sixteen miles a day. In many cases, the only way to legally have a place to stay demands that kind of hike. Conditioning aside, I find the prospect somewhat daunting. Nonetheless, I am impressed by the title of 'thru-hiker' and determined to earn it. If I cannot achieve every goal, I am still intent on seeing as much of southern Michigan as I have time for, staying well – which includes staying flexible – and leaving the NCT on June 10 with the urge to come back to the project next spring.


March 24, 2007

I still don't have a place to stay in Homer. One other e-mail response about the area around Duck Lake is still pending as well. Otherwise, all lodging is arranged. I actually spent most of today working to decorate the edges of the Boundary Waters canoe trip my wife bought us for Christmas. After getting grubby and – perhaps – thoroughly mosquito/fly bitten, a trip to the Guthrie Theatre in Minneapolis should help. It's the musical 1776 and I'm looking forward to it partly because I played its irascible Scott in our community theatre just last spring.

I went for a four-mile walk this afternoon during which I worked on keeping the steps short and the turn-over crisp. Hopefully the technique will help keep the knees from going any further down the slippery slope. I can tell the iliotibial bands are loose after a winter indoors, but it's clear that the elliptical trainer downstairs has done its work well. I came back without a single twinge, though, and ready to go further tomorrow. The only problem concerns how hot my feet got by the time I got back. I'm going to have to experiment with different socks.

The weather is gorgeous! Neighborhood silver maples are already fully budded. The rain from this morning had given in to watery sun and the hum of activity was everywhere I went. Monday I should trek to the library and back with books and a lunch (over seven miles round trip).


March 27, 2007

Well, I didn't get to the library, but I did walk five miles (in nearly eighty-degrees!). I was tired enough afterward to realize that the seven-mile trip would have been too far, too soon. The not-quite-gimpy knee is still not-quite-gimpy, and the amount of soreness in the thighs and hip joints tells me that muscles should be building rather than breaking down. The bursa in the ball of one foot was sore on Sunday. After yesterday's longer walk, it's not really tender at all. So far, so good. What a lot of parts I have that could break down! Twenty years ago I wouldn't have given them a thought. Ten years ago I had begun to be aware that I was not indestructible. Now …!

I am reminded of an exchange from a great many years ago with one of my favorite professors at WMU. In my youthful arrogance I declared, "I'm 19, and I'm not afraid of anything!"

His response: "I'm forty-five and I'm afraid of everything!"

At the time I was prone to feel a bit sorry for the old boy. I understand much better now.

I'm already aware of the shrinking time before 'lift-off', and the need to push myself – carefully – to get in good condition before then. The first two days on the trail now look like full fifteen-milers. The two days built in for dawdling won't be usable until I get past Battle Creek.

The Duck-Lake question looks like being resolved, thanks to help from Dave Cornell. Welcome notes of encouragement are coming from several sources along with more offers to hike along for parts of the trip. The latter are especially welcome. The trail goes through wonderful places, but the people who use it, care for it, and live along it are a big part of the experience I'm expecting.


March 29, 2007

Six miles! I'm already getting tired of paved streets and sidewalks, not to mention walking in rather a circle. The wind was rather strong and unusually cold despite the full sun. The temperature was supposed to be fifty-three, but it wasn't that cozy. It felt like walking into a wall every time I faced east. As I passed by the house I stopped in and put on a ski cap. The skies, however, are just that color of blue that make even my tired feet twitch to be off somewhere. Tomorrow the temperature is supposed to be sixty-four and sunny, so it will be a perfect day to get out to a state park for a nice walk in the woods.

That spot on my right foot is acting up, but seems to be fading now that I'm off it. I hope a dirt hike will help that problem, too.

Yesterday I got a phone call about the Western Michigan Chapter's School House. A family group had called just after I had confirmed an overnight there, and they were anxious to stay there for three days. I was glad to relinquish it to them, but I was informed they had already offered to cook me dinner if it would help. Anyone who has spent a full day on the trail knows it would help! So it looks like I'll spend the night in my tent, but still be able to shower and enjoy some – for me by that time – extraordinary amenities. By then the company will likely be welcome as well.


March 30, 2007

Today Pam (my wife of thirty-eight years) and I walked the six-mile trail through the Island Lake State Recreation Area near my childhood home town of Brighton. Our eleven-year-old Lab, Scout, walked with us. No-one was unhappy to get back to the car! The mountain bikers were numerous. What a difference between the sleepy area in which I grew up and the yuppie Brighton of today, even in the state parks. Still, everybody was very friendly and considerate, and delighted with the sixty-five-degree sunny day. The trail was in great shape and the Huron River was barely not in flood.

I performed extremely minor surgery last night on a tiny corn in the ball of my right foot. Today's hike didn't cause any new problems. In fact, the bruise on my foot – if anything – got better as the day went on. Although this is only another six-mile day, but it is also twelve miles in two days. The hips are complaining just the right amount, and I am really encouraged. I should be back to take the nine-mile route next week. Before I leave for The Trail, I should hike the entire fourteen-mile pathway. After today that sounds a bit daunting.


March 31, 2007

Woo Hoo! Today Pam told me she will be singing with the Birmingham Musicale chorus at the state convention (Michigan Musicale). The date is May 18 and the place is good old Miller Auditorium at Western Michigan University in Kalamazoo. That means that, in the afternoon, she can easily drive up to Lowell where I should have arrived a bit earlier.

I called some old college friends who live just outside Grand Rapids to see if we might stop in, whereupon we got an invitation to spend the night with them. Pam was originally planning to just bring the bigger tent with her to Lowell. This is the very sort of thing for which I built in two extra days for dawdling. This will be delightful dawdling indeed.

I also called the home of my high-school choir director who has, for many years, lived near Big Rapids. The intention was to see if we could meet for dinner in White Cloud or some other nearby spot along the trail. Instead, I acquired a free 'hotel' room and a couple of square meals. Accommodations are looking better and better.


April 2, 2007

Yesterday afternoon I walked more than six miles in the neighborhood in the big boots. This morning I went back to Island Lake SRA to hike the nine-mile path. It turns out to be nearly nine and a half. That's fifteen miles in just under twenty-four hours. I did switch to running shoes to give certain hot spots a rest, and I did use liner socks for the first time this year.

The three-mile-per-hour pace I needed just to get warm this morning (at forty-five breezy degrees) soon dropped into a steadier pace as the sun showed itself a little more often. With a stop for lunch and a couple of short breathers the pace would have gotten me fifteen miles in about six hours.

Having gotten a bit tired Sunday, the nearly-gimpy knee started the day complaining, warmed up nicely and ended the day somewhat disgruntled. The good news involved the hips. They didn't even complain until after the first six miles and they reached a certain level of discomfort – along with the knee – and just stayed that way until I finished the hike. If it never gets worse, fifteen-mile days are already a real possibility. I will want to be in a bit better shape, though, as the residual effects of a six-or-seven-hour day will have me moving like an old man once I make camp.

The park itself was spooky quiet this morning. No bikers to be found. It's Monday, and a lot of the people we saw Friday were at work today. Still, by the time I left the trail at about 3:45 I had been overtaken by a runner and five bikers. The trail clearly gets a lot of maintenance from a local association that calls itself The Hellriders. They leave little tin logos nailed into the sawn ends of a few logs they leave near the trail. The maintenance that I wish some riders would perform involves picking up the debris – especially water bottles – that gets left beside the trail. From some of the acrobatics that appear needed to keep a bike on the trail, I'd not be surprised if the bottles just bounce loose from the holders. Many of them are full. I'll take a bag next time I go.

A few bluebirds were checking out the nest boxes at the edge of the re-claimed-gravel-pit field near a small fishing lake. I passed a guy there who had brought two adult beagles and two black and tan beagle pups for some exercise and probably training. The pups were on a double leash and well in hand, but they were so excited when they first got out of the car that – from a distance – it looked as if there were four of them.

Saucy chickadees were everywhere. Robins and cardinals were well represented along with the occasional nuthatch and titmouse. I was pleased to see – fleetingly – two pairs of wood ducks along the Huron River. They were under-represented here in my youth. One old scrub juniper had an entire family of tiny wood mice darting around under its exposed roots and collapsed branches. With all the sign I've seen of foxes and their furry victims, either Reynard has missed this little enclave, or it really is a surprisingly secure retreat. These trails are really quite fine. They cross or pass numerous habitats and manage to keep hikers unaware that they are often just over a hill from a group of homes or even light industry. During weekdays they offer a real sense of being lost to the world for a time.


April 4, 2007

Finally made that trip to the library! The fifteen-minute round trip by car took me about three hours. The trip there took me only an hour and ten minutes. I had already figured the distance to be three and a half miles. On the way home, trying to follow the city bike routes through an unfamiliar neighborhood, I went too far east. I had to backtrack to get to a bridge back over the freeway, so I probably walked over eight miles total. My lower back and hips were complaining, but the knee that had become worrisome is gradually recovering. I am developing a much shorter, quicker stride to keep from hyper-extending the joint; mostly a matter of learning what not to do.

Our typically Michigan weather has gone back into the deep-freeze. Last night I walked at mostly right angles to a strong westerly wind with snow swirling around me. Gusts were up to fifty miles an hour so it's not surprising that I found it easy to walk too far east on the way home. In the morning I wore just my shell to work. By the evening hike I was in my heavy hiking boots, insulated coat, with ski hat and gauntlet ski gloves. At no time was I too warm! Today and tomorrow we'll only get to the mid thirties.