Thoughts of Autumn Harvest

After leaving the Heules in West Bend, the trail led almost immediately into Slinger. The beauty and unique nature of the Trail is that it balances a hiker's time between solitude in the rugged terrain of Wisconsin wilderness and the quaint towns, defined by desolate quietude, bustling farmers markets, or historical plaques celebrating its roots. In Slinger, I met a man named Lance, who had a gentle disposition but the ebullience of a teenager. I interrupted his building a trail on his property and we made a feast of bratwurst, kraut, coleslaw, cukes, and beer. Though it was soon after a pancake and bacon breakfast, I managed to put back two brats and a plateful of sides. It was a quick visit, but we both had Trail duties to tend to, and the company was pleasant. He drove me back to the Trail (which went through town), and we went our ways, and we've stayed in contact since.
That night, I made it just north of Holy Hill, near Monches, WI. Adam Eader met me there to hike the following day. He couldn't have picked a worse day to hike. The humidity had its last (hopefully) push of the season and slung itself full force at us, imbuing our bodies and sapping the energy of us. We didn't make it more than four or five miles, by far my shortest day yet. Our breaks were extensive and abundant, full of good conversation that seems to emerge every time we're together. We decided after a long nap in a cemetery that we are not very good hiking partners, but better conversationalists. It's funny that we're both avid hikers (he hiked the extent of the IAT a few years ago), but we can't make any miles together. He'll meet me later on the trail and give it another shot. We got into Monches, passed a church, and stopped at a bar for a few beers and a mound of nachos, then got a ride back to the Farm in Oconomowoc from a local patron.
We drove over to John's house and surprised Mom with a visit. She was back for 10 days to take care of some things. I caught her on her last day. She and I visited the Knoelkes (long-time family friends) for a Friday night fish fry, a tradition I'd been craving since entering the state. We spent the better part of the night talking outside on their patio. A scent of autumn was in the air, but by no means had the season arrived. The idea of its arrival excited me. It incites more enthusiasm than Christmas morning. Everything that comes along with autumn has a cozy feel to it. The flannels and jeans, the pumpkins and their seeds, soft, crunching ground, crisp apples and chilled nights. I had hoped to be by the Farm while autumn was in full swing, but I'll get to see another part of the state for the season. The Farm is my favorite place to be for fall. The crops get harvested, the fresh cobs lie naked on the hard soil, husks tumble into the yard to join the maple, oak, and box elder leaves. I usually make it out to the back acreage and walk through the prairie grasses. But times have changed and that area is farmed now. Renters will soon be in the farm and someone else will develop their own sentimental attachment to our family's land. I'm happy that someone will experience it. It's been my goal to not become attached to things in my life. Trinkets I've had since childhood, my most comfortable shoes that become part of my feet, or my hiking stick that has smoothened to become an extension of me while hiking. And, for the most part, I've been successful. But land holds superiority in the hierarchy of attachment. My heart settles and my stomach tingles at the smell of the damp lower barn and enjoying coffee on a cold autumn morning on the porch.
The next day, Liesl and I hiked the Monches segment, thanks to a shuttle from Mom. we hiked through Hartland, where we both attended high school, then up to the woods south of Highway Q, where a day before, Adam and I stopped for beer. It rained most of the day, which felt nice. The humidity was falling from the sky, allowing for a cooler evening. Liesl and I chatted about the surrounding area and how great it was to hike the trail as close to our homes as possible. It was almost our backyards, but neither of us had done it before. With so many dreams of travelling abroad and visiting other states, we hadn't even done the Ice Age Trail in our hometown. Goes to show you! We topped the day off with a trip to The Kiltie with Mom. It was great to spend time with everyone in Oconomowoc and I was lucky to catch Mom on her last day in WI.
The next days were tough. Something got into my head. Or maybe something left it. Either way, the hiking, while beautiful and pristine, wore me down mentally. I attribute this to a whiplash effect of being overly social for several days, then entering back into solitude. It was a break in the rhythm that I was finally obtaining. I began questioning my purpose for hiking and considering all the good things that awaited me in Steamboat. my excuses for stopping grew. My knee was hurting, my foot developed more pain, I have nothing to prove. This was all true, but I thought back to the Appalachian Trail when this happened to me. I told myself to stop thinking and start hiking. So, I stopped for the day, did some serious journaling, and woke up with a big day in mind. I knew I had to find rhythm again. That would come with a feeling of progress. So, I cranked out an 18.5 mile day of a mixture of road walking, prairie, and rolling wooded hills. I just put my head down and tried to complete song lyrics in my head. When I started to hurt, I stopped, rested, took my shoes off, and ate some cheese. 15 minutes later, I'd hike another five or so miles, or until I needed a break. The day went by quickly and before I knew it, my mileage was behind me and I felt great. It's a matter of self-discipline and self-motivation that gets me to move and do it with a positive attitude. I'd like to continue the bigger days out of necessity until it becomes natural.
Yesterday, I met a woman named Ruth who had been reading this blog and knew who I was before I introduced myself. I felt like a rock star. She demanded that she take me out for lunch and give me a place to stay for the night after a hike with her IAT hiking group. Twist my arm! I hiked a short section with them, then headed to La Grange General Store for a tasty turkey sandwich and Sprecher Root Beer. There, I saw a friend working on some bikes. I hadn''t seen him in two or three years. Small world. I'll try to make it to his family farm for an evening. Ruth and I did some laundry and went for a great country-side bike ride near her house. She explained much of the surrounding property to me. A lot of it is part of the Nature Conservancy and is being preserved forever. The area was phenomenal. We cooked a huge fettuccine alfredo meal that night, which put me straight to sleep. Come morning, we made an enormous breakfast of thick bacon, seasoned potatoes, eggs, and coffee. I was ready to hike. She drove me to the trailhead with a baggie full of donuts, all of which I've already eaten. Now, I'm in Milton, a town that embraces its history and maintains a clean, active image. And, of course, I found the library. But, I'll move on, heading to the southernmost point (Janesville) of the trail before I start heading north toward Stevens Point, where I'll spend about a week visitng professors and friends with Natalie. Soon, I'll see my breath.