Moving Fast and in Tough Conditions: November 13-14, 2009

November 13, 2009
An Early Start to the Day

It was Friday the 13th and I had just short of 100 miles to go to reach Duluth by Sunday the 15th. The temperatures were getting cold. My stomach was still queasy from yesterday. I could tell it was going to be one of those days.

I had to leave Ironwood at around 3 am in order to reach Ashland, Wisconsin by nightfall. I woke at 2 am and packed my gear into my backpack. The receptionist at the Comfort Inn got me eggs, sausage, cereal and juice, much earlier than the usual 6 am. I didn’t feel hungry, but forced the food down.

By 3 am I was ready to go. In the dark it was hard to see the road signs on Route 2 as I left Ironwood. In the dark I was also worried about what might be in the black woods to either side of the divided highway that was Route 2. What was good, though, was that I had finally reached the end of Michigan. Signs for a welcome center welcomed drivers to Michigan, but meant, for me, that I had only a few more days of Wisconsin before reaching Minnesota… as long as my body held up.

By 6 am the black sky started to lighten. By 7 am it was light. I was sleepy and started to nod off as I walked. I was glad that it was cold, in that the chill helped me stay awake.

A viewpoint by the roadside looked north towards Lake Superior and the archipelago of the twenty-one Apostle Islands, but on that cloudy, misty day I could only make out hazy shapes in the silvery gray water.

The Long Journey Ahead

A long slope lay ahead, known as Birch Hill. Luckily it headed down, into the swampy land around the Bad River and Odanah.

Past the Bad River Casino, near Odanah, I walked between pines and birch trees. It was now around 4 pm and I’d walked 28 miles since 3 am. Ashland was another 10 miles on. To reach Duluth by Sunday 15 November I would need to reach Ashland.

As I carried on, I passed a road called Bear Trap Road. A little way further on, I saw a large black shape by the road side. I peered towards it and could make out that it was a large black bear, maybe three or four hundred pounds… laying on its side. I presumed it was dead, but wasn’t sure. Cautiously, I moved towards it. Sure enough, it was dead, and had probably been there for a day or two. I took a photo and headed off.

As night came, Chris Beeksma, from the Regional Hospice in Ashland, picked me up off the road, about 7 miles outside of town. Chris took me to a newspaper office, where I did a quick interview with a reporter. We then went to a strange café. The service in the café could be best described as ‘minimalist’. I’d ordered soup, but the waiter didn’t bring me a spoon to eat it with. We got our own silverware from a pot against one of the walls. I’d also wanted bread, but to get that you had to go over the road to a bakery… it was very strange. The soup, though, was wonderful.

Once we had eaten, Chris dropped me off at the Super 8 Motel, on the western side of Ashland. I got the key to the room, dropped off my pack, and then got Chris to take me back to the spot close to Bear Trap Road. The plan was that I would walk the last 7 miles to get to the motel… and all my gear.

As Chris dropped me off heavy rain was falling. I had my coat and waterproof trousers, but my feet, in the New Balance running shoes, were soon soaked. I’d already walked 31 miles and was exhausted.

The Rough Trek into Ashland

The walk into Ashland was a nightmare. The drainage for the road was so bad that at places the road was flooded. There were no sidewalks on the eastern side of town, which meant I had to walk over wet grass and along the road side, as cars and trucks splashed their way past me at speed. I cursed the town planners of Ashland… then wondered if there had actually been any town planners. America certainly wasn’t designed for pedestrians. My anger was about all that kept me going through the dark and the lashing rain.

When I finally reached the center of Ashland, sidewalks did appear. By 9pm, 18 hours after leaving Ironwood, I hobbled up to the Super 8 Motel, wet, cold, sore and bedraggled. Like an old man, I shuffled down the corridor to reach my room.

I ran a hot bath. The heat from the hot water soaked into me and I began the process of recovering. I had made it to Ashland. If I could survive two more days I would reach Duluth.

November 14, 2009

Leaving Ashland with Harsh Weather

I had a quick breakfast of raisin bran and toast at 4 am and left the Super 8 Motel. I was glad it was on the western side of Ashland. As I left the town, in the dark, it was still rainy and foggy. In the dark I had to check overhead road signs to make sure I was taking the right road out of town. I was relieved when daylight came and I could see where I was going. By 7 am I had reached the junction with Route 63 and was making good time.

At the small town of Ino there were two bars, but at 11 am they were both closed. Standing, with my pack resting on a metal guard rail, I ate peanut M and M’s from the huge bag that Chips Paulson had left for me back at the Comfort Inn in Ironwood. Wind and drizzly rain whipped around me as I stood, eating in the cold.

The walk was hilly and took me towards the Chequamegon National Forest. During a lull in the wind and rain, a man stopped in his car and had me pose for a photo with his two children. I told them about the walk and hospice. A short while later, a man called Richard and his wife also stopped to take my picture. Both groups of people gave donations for hospice.

As I entered a heavily wooded area, I saw a dead female black bear lying next to her cub. It was a sad sight to see. There were tracks in the dirt by the roadside that looked as if they might be bear tracks from a third bear. I looked into the dark green pines, trying to see if I could spot any live black bear.

As I entered the Chequamegon National Forest the wind and rain picked up. A man pulled up in his pickup truck to ask if I wanted a ride. Shouting over the wind, I explained about the walk and that I had to walk all the way. He looked at me as if I was crazy and said, “Well, enjoy the rain then.”

Reaching Iron River, Wisconsin

By the time I reached the small town of Iron River, Wisconsin, the rain had stopped. In the wind I began to dry off. Beyond Iron River the wind shifted and began to blow from the north. Heavy grey clouds up above were split by the north wind. The temperature plummeted from the thirties to the twenties. Chris pulled up in his pickup and asked me how much further I wanted to walk. “To Brule?”  I said, more as a question than an answer. It was now about to get dark and Brule was seven miles away. We came up with a plan. I left my pack with Chris and would phone him when I reached Brule. I told Chris I should reach Brule by about 7 pm.

As Chris drove off I began jogging down the road. The jogging helped warm me up. After less than a mile I stopped the jogging. I was worried that I might cause an injury to my tired legs. I had my bright orange woolen hat on and my gloves, but was still cold. All my extra clothes were in the pack that I’d left with Chris. My flashlight was also in the pack.

With the cold wind chilling my face I walked on. By about 6 pm I could see lights ahead that should be Brule. The lights seemed to take forever to come closer. In the dark I thought I saw something cross the road. A hill appeared and, cruelly, the lights of Brule disappeared. I crested the hill and the lights were there, now just below.

At about 6:40 pm, after almost two hours in the dark, I reached a small diner on the outskirts of Brule. It was only then that I realized my wallet and money were in the pack that I’d left with Chris. I phoned Chris and told him I’d reached the diner. He said he’d meet me there.

By 7pm Chris walked into the diner. Just after Chris came in his wife Sandy, who was a school teacher, arrived at the diner with an ambulance crew. She was a part-time Emergency Medical Technician and had just been on a training run with the ambulance crew. It was good. The three of us met up there and had a great dinner. Chris treated me to dinner, I handed him the $25 in donations for the Regional Hospice, and I was glad to be out of the cold north wind.

Chris and Sandy drove me back to their house, which was in woods not far from Brule. When we entered the house I noticed a strange smell. They had two goats, that they were now keeping in the garage. The garage had a door into the house and that was where the goat smell was coming from. The goats had been outside, but a black bear had eaten one of them, so Chris had made a pen for them in the garage and they were keeping them there for the time being. Luckily I soon became accustomed to the smell of the goats.

Next entry

Donate in Honor of Colin Skinner

Return to Colin's Homepage