Sacred Ground and Quiche

I walked on sacred ground. It's a State Natural Area south of Montello and Packwaukee off of County Highway F. In 1849, John Muir's family moved from Scotland to Lake Ennis, Wisconsin. He was only 11 years old. He lived there for six years. He went on to be a heavily influential conservationist, naturalist, preservationist, writer, and most importantly, adventurer. I hiked the two miles around his boyhood property, letting my imagination run rampant. Which of these trees were around while he was here? Could there be a molecule of his sweat left in the lake? What did his house look like? From what I've read, his boyhood was much like any other country boy's. But his youthful need for exploration and adventure persisted. As a man, he travelled the world, especially Western United States. There is a story about his sitting in a cabin with a friend while a storm brewed outside. He jumped from his chair and ran outside to climb a huge pine tree. He wanted to feel what the tree felt in such wild weather. They are this love for and connection with the natural world that make him one of my heroes. His land was gorgeous. The soil was soft and my feet melted into it with each step. Tall grasses were silent and waving. Grapes hung bundled behind dark, fancy-looking leaves. Few people were there. I met a man who knew a lot about Muir. We walked and talked for a while until he had to catch up with "his Misses."
The day before, I had hiked through Devil's Lake. It's another gem of Wisconsin that I couldn't believe I hadn't visited before. The trails bustled with people, many from Illinois from what I could see in the parking lots. It was kind of nice being around so many people. They smelled great, the way day hikers always do. I can only imagine what they thought of me. Towering cliffs peered over the lake. The Trail, for the most part, traversed across those cliffs, going all the way down to the lake twice. Had it been warmer, I would have gone for a dip, but the weather has really cooled off. The first cold morning was in Riverland Conservatory, south of Devil's Lake. I'm happy to have my 10-degree sleeping bag. A bridge sparkled with frost like the savanna's ephemeral diamonds. The cold nipped at my ears and hands until mid-morning when I thawed out.
Two nights ago, I stayed in Baraboo with Nell and Lou. A few years back, our family helped them load their barn with hay for their horses. It was great to return. Nell remembered my love for her quiche. By the time I arrived, a quiche sat on the counter, waiting for me. I ate over half of it in one sitting, then the other portion the next day on the trail. Not long after the first helping, we ate dinner, a delicious calorie-packed chicken dish followed by fudge-bottom pie. Wow. That was by far the best stop I've had, in terms of home-cooked grub. Freshly showered, I slept like a baby in the cold house with a comforter on me. Thank you, Nell!
The following day, I bought a "Fargo-style" blaze orange hat, complete with a visor and fuzzy ear flaps. The mornings aren't so bad, now.
Since then, it's been a lot of road-walking. In the cold, it's not too bad. A few people have offered rides, which I've taken, but usually not more than a few miles. I'm in Westfield Library right now, soon to make it up to Chaffee Creek Fishery Area, where the Trail will pick up again. I'm back into the rhythm that I'd been on the brink of for a few weeks. I'm really enjoying the Trail. The oak savannas and wooded areas are all beautiful. The prairies are full of life with creeks running along the edges. The towns continue to impress me and the people I meet are, for the most part, generous and curious. I enjoy their company, though it may be for only a short moment or a couple hours.
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