Preparing for Winter and Meeting Nice People: November 17-21, 2009

November 17, 2009
Stocking Up for Winter

We had arranged for Pete to meet me at 12 noon at the Matthew S. Burroughs 1890s Bed and Breakfast House. I had breakfast at 7 am, but spent almost two hours talking to Al. It was good to get to know him. Al’s wife Kathy was a nurse with hospice. They were both in their early sixties. Their plan was to retire in five or six years time and sell the house, then move further south in Minnesota to be nearer their children. When not busy running the guest house, Al would take rides out to the lakes in Minnesota. He talked of seeing moose and deer. We talked about politics, too, and set the world to rights, but agreed we hadn’t changed a thing. In good company it was a good two hours spent.

At 9 am I took a bath in the big old iron tub again: this time feeling less likely to fall through the floor. I packed my backpack and at 12 noon Pete Fitch arrived. Squirrels had got into Al’s roof and some guys had turned up to repair the damage that the rodents had done. Pete drove me off to an outdoor equipment suppliers called Trail Packers, where a helpful assistant sold me a lightweight tent, an 85 litre rucksack, a padded down coat to go under my Goretex jacket, thermal underwear, 2 pairs of gloves, boots and a ski mask. At another shop called Duluth Pack I bought a sleeping bag that was good down to 0° Fahrenheit. At Ski Hut I bought ski goggles. I hoped, now, that I would be ready for winter.

I thanked Pete for his help and at 3 pm was dropped back at the1890s house. That night I walked down to a restaurant a few blocks away and ate my fill. Tomorrow the walk west would start again.

November 18, 2009

I had my final breakfast with Al and Kathy. I said goodbye to Kathy and then Al drove me back to the Bong Bridge. I wore my new boots and had my new 85 litre backpack, in tasteful mustard yellow, sitting on my back. Al shook my hand and wished me luck.

Up 46^th Avenue, on to 8^th Street, then onto Highland Road and Vinland Road, I walked my way out of Duluth. The morning was sunny, bright, but frosty. The plan was that I would try to reach Brookston and there be picked up by the administrative assistant from St. Mary’s Hospice, Donna Helgeton, who lived in the town of Floodwood.

Just down the road from the water tower, an auto-body repair garage owner, called Marty, who had seen me on TV, came up to me and wished me luck.

Further on in Proctor, I came to the roadside park where I had camped out in 1988. Back then I had put my tent up in the lea of the old steam locomotive that sits in the park, as snow fell from the sky and the wind howled. On the sunny day in 2009 I took photos of the train and a jet plane at the park.

Through a land of rivers, lakes, leafless hardwoods and pines I headed on towards Brookston. After fifteen miles I changed out of my new boots and into my old New Balance running shoes. I hoped that I would have the chance to break the boots in over a few days or weeks.

At the edge of a small lake, a beaver lodge rose from the edge of the still waters: a mound of earth covered in small branches. Not much further on there was a dead beaver by the roadside. The finely textured paddle tail and big clawed feet were amazing to see at close quarters, but I would have preferred it to be alive.

As dark fell, Donna pulled over and drove me to her house in Floodwood. Donna had made a wonderful beef stew in a slow cooking hotpot. We sat and watched two TV sitcoms. It was good to have warm food, a place to stay and company.

November 19, 2009

Donna dropped me off on her way to work in Duluth. There was thick ice by her garage and the temperature was in the 20’s. Brookston was just a sign post that I passed, as I walked on. I walked through the Fond du Lac Reservation. To my left were pipeline workers, who were putting in two massive pipes to bring oil down from areas of oil bearing sands up in Canada. One of the pipeline workers, called Debbie, stopped in her truck and gave a donation for hospice. A forest worker, called Brian, also stopped to talk to me.

Several hunters, dressed with bright orange hats, drove by in trucks, or appeared from trails. On the road I saw several spent bullet casings. There was the sound of gun shots from the woods. Until Sunday 22 November, I would have the chance of being shot by a Minnesotan hunter. At one point I saw an old hunter, rifle in hand, walking down a trail into some woods that were marked “Private, No Hunting or Trespassing.” He waved at me, as he went on into the woods. I wore my orange hat, as I disappeared into the woods to have a quick pee. Standing in the woods, I thought, ‘now, wouldn’t this be a great time to be shot!’

A social worker from Itasca Hospice at Grand Rapids, called Anne Nolan, stopped to talk to me and said she would see me for dinner on Friday night. I was glad that my connections to the hospices were working out.

By 4 pm I walked through Floodwood and stopped at a gas I took out my torch and walked on. The only reason I had the torch on was so that Donna would be able to see me, when she came to pick me up. At around 5.15 pm Donna’s car pulled up ahead of me. It was now cold and I was glad to see her. We drove back to her house and Donna made some chicken and rice. I took a shower and spent a couple of hours writing my blog, before falling asleep.

November 20, 2009

Donna dropped me back on the road before 7 am. I gave her a quick hug goodbye and walked off. By an icy metal guard rail, I phoned the  Itasca Hospicein Grand Rapids. As I held the phone with bare hands the wind made them sting and they then became numb. The cold was starting to bite. I didn’t know where I would be staying on the next two nights. My contact at the Itasca Hospice was Paula Pennington, the hospice director, but she had come down with swine flu. I was given a number for Anne Nolan, the social worker who had met me on the road. I managed to get through to Anne and a plan was hatched where she would pick me up off the road and take me to the Sawmill Inn in Grand Rapids, for dinner and a place to stay for two nights.

The day was bright and sunny, but the temperatures were in the 20s to begin with. As the day went on the temperature rose to the 40s. At around 4 pm a reporter called Lisa, from the Grand Rapids Review, stopped to interview me by the road side. As trucks sped by, she asked questions such as ‘what has been your best experience in Minnesota?’ I told her about walking into Duluth, with the sun going down, visiting Solvay House and St. Mary’s Hospice and also mentioned that Donna Helgeton’s beef stew was wonderful. The sun was going down and I was eager to push on to meet with Anne. The interview went well. Lisa said she had never done an interview on the side Route 2 before, but her husband had proposed to her there!  Lisa took a photo of me with my pack and by about 4.20 pm I headed off again.

As 5 pm came, and the blue sky turned dark, a van pulled into a drive ahead of me. Anne Nolan climbed out and I walked on up to her. Anne introduced me to her husband John and her children. They drove me to the Sawmill Inn and we had a great meal there.

At 8pm I thanked the Nolans and headed up to my room in the Sawmill Inn.

November 21, 2009

On the Way out of Grand Rapids

On Saturday morning I had breakfast with an Itasca Hospice nurse called Karen Holmstrom and her husband. After breakfast, Karen took me to a local radio station for an interview. The interview went well, with Karen and me giving our sides of the hospice story. Karen said, for her, it was a privilege to be able to work with hospice patients and give them help when they needed it most. Karen was marvelous. She had a peaceful, warm air, about her that instantly put me at ease.

Karen dropped me back at the spot that Anne Nolan had picked me up from. I gave Karen a hug, she wished me luck and it was time to head off once more. The day was sunny and the temperature in the 30’s, which was beginning to feel warm to me now. Outside Grand Rapids was a sign saying ‘Welcome to Grand Rapids- Home of Judy Garland’. As I moved through the town, I spotted a painting on the side of a building showing: the Lion, Tinman, Dorothy and the Scarecrow.

As I was leaving Grand Rapids, I passed a paper factory, where a chimney was pumping smelly steam into the sky. A German woman called Helga stopped in her car, to give me a donation for hospice. Helga told me that her father had died in the German army during the Second World War. Her mother had then married an American soldier and they came to America. Helga had trained as a nurse and treated American troops. Her son was in the U.S. Army and had suffered brain injuries when a bomb exploded in Iraq. He had suffered loss of hearing and had problems with memory loss, too. As we talked we both agreed it was a shame that war still went on, 70 years after the Second World War. I shook hands with Helga and wished her well.

At Cohasset, a few miles west of Grand Rapids, I stopped at an A&W, for a burger and a root beer float. I hadn’t had a root beer float for years. It was good. The woman in charge of the A&W, was called Lynn and there was a young man serving behind the till called Matthew. They gave donations to hospice and took my photo for the A&W corporate magazine. I thanked them and sat eating my food. Sitting there, well on my way through Minnesota, on a sunny day, I felt good.

The plan was that I would try to reach a small town called Ball Club on the Leech Lake Reservation;  to do that I walked on, as night came. The night sky was clear again. By 8 pm I reached Ball Club. A van sat outside a gas station. Inside the van were Kami and Brad and their three children. Kami worked as a social worker with Itasca Hospice. I was glad to see them. They drove me back to the Sawmill Inn for my second night there. We ate dinner together and it was 10 pm by the time we had finished eating. Over dinner the children asked me questions about the walk. One of the kids then said “Colin… you need to get a car!” We all had a good laugh about that.

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