More Days in Upper Michigan—Entering a New Time Zone: November 2 –6, 2009

November 2, 2009
Lake Superior Hospice

Monday morning saw me giving my presentation to the staff of  Lake Superior Hospice. Julie Diesenroth, the nurse who I had met at Northwoods Hospice in Munising, was there for her first day of her new job. She changed the slides for me as I told the story of my journey.

A Channel 6 news crew was there to film me walking with the staff of the hospice. We walked about a mile from the hospice office, before I was driven back to the spot that I had walked to, about 20 miles further south. Before the hospice staff left me, the nurses gathered to say a prayer for me. I held hands with the nurses, as Becky said a prayer, asking for protection for me on the journey.

Becky drove me back to the “Old School House” and by about 11 am I was walking down Route 41 once more. As I was now heading south the sun shone in my eyes. I would be glad when I started heading north and west once more.

Pine trees stood to either side of the road. Every few hundred yards there were small white wooden numbered signs nailed to trees. As the sun began to fall below the trees, Amy Wilson phoned to say she was on her way out from Escanaba. I told her I had just passed one of the numbered signs that said 500. The numbered signs on the trees were about the only point of reference on the road.

Once we had eaten, Amy took me to an old two story house not far away. Mary Pat Johnson was one of the hospice nurses and had agreed to give me a place to stay in Escanaba.   The house Mary Pat lived in had originally been three stories high, but had been moved from another place to its current site. To make the moving of the house easier the top storey had been taken off. In the house there were still stairs that now led nowhere. The house was about a hundred years old and had a lot of character.

Mary Pat’s husband Tim had been in the Navy and worked on submarines and in Naval Intelligence. The Johnson’s also had a German student, called Joachim, or Joe for short, who was living with them. Eating cake and drinking coffee, I talked to Mary Pat and Tim and was given a bed for the night in their son’s old room.

November 3, 2009
Visiting the Order of Saint Francis Hospice

Mary Pat dropped me off at The Order of  Saint Francis Hospital in Escanaba. There was a 7 am hospital board meeting and I gave a short talk about my walk. At the meeting I sat next to Lana Scanell. The plan that night was that I would be staying with an OSF Hospice nurse called Leslie Hoffmeyer, about 15 miles West of Escanaba. Amy Wilson picked me up from the OSF  Hospital and took me off for two radio interviews at stations in downtown Escanaba. The interviews went well. The first DJ was Lana Scanell’s husband. I told stories from my walk and Amy gave the hospice point of view. It was a good start to the day.

By 11 am Amy dropped me back at the 492 tree marker. The day was sunny again and I was glad when I reached the junction of Route 41 and Route 2. I had a big smile on my face, as I turned west on Route 2. This road, apart from the odd detour would take me all the way to North Dakota. The sun, now, was off to my left and not in my face.

To my left was Bay de Noc, blue in the sunshine.    By 4.00 pm I reached the western side of Gladstone.  I turned off Route 2 onto Lake Shore Drive and walked into the McDonalds.  I would have an easy 10 miles walk to reach the Marquette General Hospice office the next day.

Once I had eaten, I phoned Leslie Hoffmeyer from OSF Hospice. At 4.45 pm Leslie picked me up. Leslie’s husband Tim worked building log cabins just over the state border in Wisconsin.

November 4, 2009
A Roadside Interview on the Way to Escanaba

Leslie dropped me back at McDonalds by around 7.30 am on Wednesday morning. The sun was rising over the flat silvery surface of Bay de Noc. The temperature was in the 20’s and I wore gloves and a hat, as I set off for Escanaba.

At around 11.30 am a small red car pulled up in front of me, just before a bridge over Route 2. A young woman climbed out of the car. She introduced herself as a reporter from the newspaper in Escanaba and asked if I could walk to their office for an interview. I thought that was a bit cheeky to say the least. I told her that I was meeting with people from two of the hospices in Escanaba in about 30 minutes and suggested we do the interview there by the roadside. She agreed and it all went well.

Two more people stopped to talk to me as I made my way into the town. Both had seen me on television and gave me small donations for hospice. At the corner of South Lincoln and Ludington I spotted my reception committee from Marquette General Hospice and OSF Hospice. About 10 women lhad gathered there, with printed banners welcoming me to Escanaba. A big smile came to my face and a spring came to my step.

Visiting Marquette General Hospice

Leslie Hoffmeyer and Amy Wilson were there on the corner, along with other staff members from the two hospices. We stood on the corner talking for some time. As we did so drivers that passed by would toot on their horns and wave. After about 10 minutes or so we walked off towards the offices of Marquette General Hospice.

At the office I gave a presentation to staff from the two hospices and posed for photographs with them. They told me that this was about the first time the two hospices had come together. I hoped that it was the beginning of a closer relationship for them.

By 2 pm I was ready to hit the road once more. I said my goodbyes and thanked Amy Wilson and Mary Pat Johnson for taking care of me in Escanaba. The plan was that I would walk out of Escanaba and that Leslie Hoffmeyer would pick me up as she drove back from work and give me a place to stay for a second night.

Leaving Escanaba with Uncertainty

As I walked out of town I was worried about what would happen beyond Bark River. In the next few days I would pass through Watersmeet, Marenisco, and Iron Mountain. The next hospice wasn’t until Iron River. I had a telephone number for a lady named Amy at Iron River, but didn’t know what would happen there. As I searched for the way back to Ludington to take me out of Escanaba doubts began to come into my mind: was this where the walk would fall apart?  The temperatures were now in the 20s at night time and places to get food were beginning to be few and far apart. I had come over 1,400 miles, but still had 600 miles to go. In truth I was also tired and beginning to get worn out.

Off to my left a golf course appeared. The sun was just about to set and the air was turning chill. Leslie’s car pulled up on the far side of the road and I crossed over to meet her. It was good to climb into the warm car. Leslie had to pick up the girls from the church school in Bark River. At the church I was introduced to Pastor Chris. She was interested to hear about my walk and wanted me to come with her to a soup and sandwich night at another church in Bark River. Leslie had to take the girls home, but said it was ok if I wanted to go with Pastor Chris to the soup and sandwich night… it sounded like a plan.

Kidnapped by Pastor Chris!

So it was that I was kidnapped by Pastor Chris!   At the soup and sandwich night I was introduced to a number of people. I told them stories about the walk as I ate and also showed them the copy of the book that I carried. It all went down well. In talking to Pastor Chris I also said that I needed a place to stay around Hermansville. Chris said she knew some people who lived out that way and would let me know if I could stay with them. The meeting with Pastor Chris was lucky… or maybe it was supposed to be. Whatever it was I was glad that it had happened.

November 5, 2009
A Cold Start

I woke early and packed away all my gear. I walked upstairs from the basement to the main part of the house. By 7:15 am Tim had me back on the road. He dropped me off by the golf course and shook my hand. He said he would probably see me on the road on the way to Wisconsin. I waved him goodbye.

The temperature was about 23 degrees as I started out. I walked on to Bark  River and spotted a Credit Union building there. Walking into the building, I asked the women behind the counter if I could use my phone to call up some people, as it was cold outside. I explained about doing the walk and they were fine about me staying inside to make the call. By now it was about 9.30 am and Iron River was on Central Time, which would make it 8.30. I hoped that wasn’t too early. I phoned Amy Weeks at the Northstar Hospice in Iron River.

The call went well. Amy had made arrangements for me to stay at a hotel connected to the casino at Lac  Viuex Desert near Watersmeet. She was also making arrangements for me to stay with the Police Chief in Marenisco and to be picked up about 30 miles before Iron River. If all went well I would be ok for the next three days and beyond that. Amy also had connections with the Regional Hospice in Ironwood, who had their main office in Ashland, Wisconsin. If all went well I would be taken care of up to Duluth. All I had to do now was walk 300 miles to get there.

1/24^th The Way Around the Planet

Before the small town of Harris, I passed the sign for the Central Time Zone. Having walked over 1,400 miles I had moved about 1/24th the way around the planet since August, that felt good.

Up ahead was a casino and hotel. I planned to stop off at the casino to have lunch, before I got there, though, a car pulled up beside me. Inside was an Ojibwa man called Mike and a young couple. Mike gave me a donation to give to hospice. That made my day. The young couple had made me a ham sandwich, which made the day even better. I told them a little about the walk, gave them the details of the National Hospice Foundation website and waved them goodbye.

Entering Harris

As I walked through Harris I came to a small building. It was signposted as the Main Post Office. I went in to send off the discs of photos that I had got in Marquette. I talked to the postmaster. It turned out there was only one post office in Harris, she thought it was amusing that the place was signposted as the main post office. Saying goodbye, I walked on down Route 2 to reach Hermansville.

Spalding was where Route 2/Route 41 became just Route 2. Route 2 became a right turn off of Route2/41 and passed under a bridge. The gas station at the junction was closed and I hoped that didn’t mean that more places to get food would be closed as I headed north and west.

Dinner with Pastor Chris and the Beginnings of Fame

At about 4:30 pm I walked into the small town of Hermansville. A young couple came out of their house as they saw me walk up. They had seen me on television and had been following my blog on the website. They offered to give me a place to stay for the night, but I explained that I was due to meet up with Pastor Chris down at the Wildwood Restaurant. They said it was just about 1/4 of a mile down the road.

Inside the restaurant there were trophy heads of deer and painted pictures of woodland scenes. I ordered a coffee and said I would be meeting up with someone else for dinner there. At just after 5 pm Chris turned up and we had a great dinner. Chris and I talked away over dinner for about an hour. Chris had a copy of the newspaper from Escanaba, which had a photo of me on the front and a story inside. Most of the details were correct and the young reporter who stopped me by the roadside hadn’t done too bad a job.

Once dinner was done Chris drove me off to the home of Bob and Marge. Their house was down a side road a few miles beyond Hermansville. In the dark it took a bit of finding, but eventually we were there. Chris stayed for a cup of tea, but then had to head off back to Bark  River.

Bob and Marge’s house was a small log cabin, with a main bedroom, a small kitchen and bathroom and a lounge area. My bed for the night was on a pull out sofa bed. They had a wood burning fire in the lounge and also propane gas heating, too. I was thankful to be inside in the warm.

November 6, 2009
On the Road to Iron Mountain

Marge woke up at about 6.30 am to let the dog out. I woke up and felt exhausted. Luckily, though, the smell of eggs and bacon were soon wafting through the kitchen. Bob had the day off and was due to drive into Escanaba with Marge to do some shopping. They dropped me off at the Wildwood Restaurant in Hermansville and all was well.

I had sent an e-mail message to Monica’s cousin Andy, suggesting we meet up in Iron  Mountain that evening. The plan was that I would stay in a motel there. Things were beginning to slot into place again. Between Hermansville and Iron Mountain were the small towns of Waucedah, Loretto, Vulcan and Norway. The small towns would help break up the 26 miles that I had to walk.

By 1 pm I had walked 14 miles and was at Loretto. At Loretto there was a gas station, with a park bench outside. I phoned Andy and told him I was about 12 miles from Iron Mountain. He was just leaving Minneapolis and would give me a call when he reached the Days Inn at the edge of Iron Mountain.

Seeing a Familiar Face

Through Vulcan and on to Norway the road passed through hilly woods. At the edge of Norway a familiar looking purple PT cruiser car pulled up and out climbed Deb and Tom Gerger. I had met them way back outside Bay City, then in Tawas, just outside St. Ignace and now here they were close to Iron Mountain. It was good to see them again. I told them about the plan to meet with my wife’s cousin Andy in Iron Mountain and asked if they wanted to meet us there. They said they had to drive back, but wished me luck. With a little sadness I said goodbye to them and headed off towards Iron Mountain.

It was becoming dark as I made my way up a hill towards Quinnesec. The lights of the paper mill showed off to my left. Pink streaks across the pale blue sky showed against black silhouetted trees, where the last sunlight caught against the clouds. Quinnesec itself was a small town, with traffic lights, intersections and various industrial units.

A final hill stood between the junction with Route 141 and Iron Mountain. At 6 pm I crested the hill and looked down below. Twenty-one years ago Iron Mountain had been a small town, with 100-year-old brick buildings and a motel, with maybe a few restaurants. As I looked down below me, I didn’t recognize the place. Signs for motels and fast food restaurants lined the road for about two or three miles into the old town. What was good was that I could see a sign saying Day’s Inn.

As I stood on the hill my phone rang and it was Andy. He had just pulled into the Day’s Inn. I told him I could see the sign for the motel and that it should take me about ten minutes to get there. It was great that we had both reached Iron  Mountain about ten minutes apart.

I trotted down the hill and crossed the road to reach the Day’s Inn. Andy was still checking in as I walked in. It was strange to walk into the motel and see a familiar face inside.

Over dinner I told Andy about what had happened on the walk. I also asked him how Monica and James were doing back in Britain. He told me that Monica was tired, with working, looking after James and her parents, too. From my phone calls home I knew that was about the size of it. For me it wasn’t good, as I wondered if I should still be carrying out the walk. The news and worry about what was happening back in England drained what little energy I had left.

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