Originally written April 2, 2016
My task was pretty straightforward yesterday – walk a little under 11 miles in less than fours. Do it, and I would avoid getting drenched by an afternoon storm. My average pace is 3 miles an hour. Piece of cake.
I began at 11:00. The temperature was in the low to middle 40s with calm breezes and patchy clouds. 9.3 miles of my hike would be along county highways between two trail segments, what the Ice Age Trail Alliance calls a “Connecting Route.” While this might appear boring, it actually worked to my favor. I would make great time on an ideal surface. It had rained heavily the day before, but the water had drained nicely off the roads and the adjacent shoulders, so I was able to walk while remaining dry. When I walked on the shoulder, the ground under me was soft, but not muddy. Once again, a surface easy on my joints. Most of my walk was along farmland. However, a chunk was along the Lima Marsh State Wildlife Area. The farmland was in the process of exploding into Spring. Many of the fields had already turned a beautiful green. Frankly, it reminded me of Ireland. The marsh was a lot of brambles, shrubs, and tangled undergrowth. Even if it was dry – not likely – I wouldn’t want to go trudging through it.
While the area may not have been a feast for the eyes, it was certainly a feast for the ears. Cranes, ducks, robins, woodpeckers mourning doves, and all kinds of songbirds were in the area, and their melodies were prominently in my head as I walked. Otherwise, it was very quiet – not many vehicles roaring through to break the solitude. However, one section along Rock County Highway KK was quite raucous, and it wasn’t from birds, or even from nearby crickets. The biggest noise I heard that day came from a great number of frogs that were clustered in a soggy, grassy field. They were absolutely deafening. What was very strange was that while I certainly could hear them, I couldn’t see them. I chuckled to myself as I realized I was probably witnessing some come hither calling to a frog orgy.
Outside of people in cars and trucks passing me on the roads – which was relatively rare – I only ran into a couple of people with whom I talked along the way – a Rock County D.P.W. employee repairing road signs and a guy looking up from playing with his dog to say hello.
I hit the junction of the County Line Road separating Rock County from Walworth County at about 2:00, right on schedule. I began to be aware of a squall line to the Southwest. That line of rain was to hit the Whitewater area at about 2:45. According to the Weather Channel app on my phone, the odds for rain went from 40% to something like 80% between 2:00 and 3:00. I became more and more preoccupied with that squall line to my left.
Maybe that is why I missed the trail head which should have been a quarter mile up the road on my right. Or, maybe it was because the sign was parallel with the road, as opposed to being at a right angle to the road, like most road signs. Or maybe I was just being a blockhead. At any rate, I missed the trail head. At first I thought, “I should have spotted it by now. Maybe it’s ahead just a bit.” Then I realized, OK, I missed the trail head, but there should be a right turn just ahead. I’ll catch that road and walk right to where Jane is waiting. Sure, it’s not walking on an off road trail, but the distance works out the same. But, I missed that intersection, too. By that time, a light rain was starting to fall, and with it went the time to exercise any options to back track and recover from my error. My goal had changed – get to an intersection and hope I could reach Jane by phone to meet me before it started to pour. I knew I overshot the mark, but I didn’t realize by how much until I reached the next intersection, Wisconsin 59, nearly two miles away from the trail head. I called Jane, and parked myself near some pine trees to wait for her. Decent cell phone reception – yes! Fortunately, she was less than 2 miles away, and just as fortunately, the big rains held off. I was very glad to see her pull up.
Aside from being really upset with myself over my goof, I soon realized that maybe this gaffe worked out for the best after all. The off road trail, the Clover Valley segment, is known for getting extremely muddy after rains. Between Thursday’s all day rain and what I feared was to come on Friday, maybe I dodged a muddy bullet by missing that trail head.
God works in strange ways.
Each time I hike, I learn a lesson or two. Next time out, I’ll hopefully be wearing a GPS for the trip.
My Days on the Ice Age Trail 