Cold Turkey Sandwiches on Thanksgiving Day: November 26, 2009
When I woke on Thursday morning, I swung my legs out of a bed and felt a twinge in my left knee. It was only then that I remembered the same twinge, from when I climbed up on to the concrete platform of the Bagley town sign. I hoped the twinge was just my body complaining. As I went downstairs to the kitchen, though, the knee continued to hurt.
It was American Thanksgiving Day. Butch and Kathy were having family around later and Butch said he would drive out to meet me on the road with some turkey sandwiches. After a quick breakfast, Butch drove me back to the Bagley road sign and I started walking. My left knee still complained about having to walk. I hoped I hadn’t damaged the cartilage inside the knee, and that it was just a strained ligament. I pushed the pain from my mind and carried on. Fosston was only 18 miles further on from Bagley, which should mean about 7 hours walking or so.
The temperature was 23 degrees Fahrenheit and I wore my thermal leggings, trousers, and a thermal vest under my tee shirt, denim shirt, pullover and goretex coat. The thermals were made of merino sheep’s wool from New Zealand. On my hands I wore thin liner gloves, beneath heavier overmits. On my head I wore a balaclava, with a second ski-mask rolled up and sitting on top of my head, like a hat. On my feet I still wore the running shoes. With this gear on I was fairly warm.
It was only a mile or so to walk through Bagley, which was quiet, early on Thanksgiving Day.
There was a heavy frost on the ground around me. By the roadside there was an old tractor and farm machinery from the 1930’s, covered in small white crystals of ice.
At around 2pm, I heard the sound of a small petrol engine in the sky and saw a microlight aircraft, flying about 50 feet in the air above Fosston. It was still in the 20’s on the ground and I thought it must have been even colder for the pilot of the microlight.
My contact at the First Care Hospice, in Fosston, was Eileen Hegg. We had agreed that I would stay in the Super 8 Motel in Fosston on Thanksgiving and that Eileen would then give me a place to stay in Erskine the day after Thanksgiving.
Reaching Fosston
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From the motel I phoned up Butch to let him know I was at the motel already. Butch had left to bring me the food for lunch. I left a message with Kathy and she said she would phone Butch’s grand-daughter’s cell phone, as she had gone with Butch.
It wasn’t much later that Butch, and his grand-daughter, arrived with turkey sandwiches and thin potato pancakes, called lefse. We talked for a few minutes, but Butch had to head back for the family celebrations.
I had a bath, once I’d eaten, and soaked my stiff knee. I hoped that it was only a strain and that it wouldn’t mean the end of the walk. If it had come from climbing up on the concrete platform by the Bagley sign, that would be a sad way for my walking days to end.
I felt tired, but checked my e-mails and sent messages from my Blackberry. By
