Part III
The Detour
Anyway, for now, I'm two miles north of Toronto, the destination I was near before my ride. Now I'm looking at two more miles with my pack to get back there. Oh, and in case I needed a little reminder that God was with me, as it turns out, three of the four guys sitting at the table were from Stephenville, Texas, a place we travel to often to visit Nancy's family. They live in Stephenville too. So I set the pack on my back and aimed my tired, whiny little rear back toward Toronto. I would soon be setting “lesson learned 1” in my mind like a hook in a fish's mouth.
As I headed back south, matches in hand, I decided to try to head toward the west side of the lake. The brochure showed a gravel road that headed west a mile and there was an information center indicated on the map where the road intersected another heading south. If I could just get there I'd find a place, any place, to set up camp and hunker down for a cold night. From what I could gather they had revised, downward, the temperature forecast and the wind would remain a factor into the night. The first road I thought could be my road west was only an access road to a shed or something. I could see from the highway it went nowhere. The next candidate had a much more appealing look. A Kansas Wildlife and Parks information board at the intersection. Though it was a one-lane gravel road I decided to try it. I'm really weary by now and as I walk through this low-lying area along the river I'm looking for a place to camp. A quarter mile in or so I find a place that might be suitable. I take off my pack I'm hoping for the last time today and unstrap my little 3-legged stool. I sit on the stool for a bit, the legs sinking into the soft moist soil and lean back against my pack which is sitting against a small tree. After a bit I walk around surveying for other suitable spots and low and behold, around the bend is an old red brick silo, and, the end of the road. It becomes obvious that this is a road used by hunters. Looking at the brochure confirms this area is in fact a public hunting area. In fact about the only non-public hunting areas are the designated fee-based recreational areas for hiking and camping. Talking myself out of staying there was hard. Not only would I have to strap my pack back on and go on into Toronto, I knew this was the end of my trip. I was at the end of my physical resources and I was quite frustrated as well. It will take all the energy I have left to get back to Toronto and no telling how much farther a suitable camping area would be. Looks like at least another mile on the map. With the added challenge of a colder forecast and paying money to camp, of which I had little, I called home for a rescue. Just a few yards outside of Toronto one of the guys from Stephenville happened to be heading north. He stopped to see if I needed any help. I said I was fine and thanked him for his asking. Once in town I spotted a little memorial park with a few picnic tables. I took off my pack and laid back on the table to recover a bit. It was quite windy and now that I was no longer moving I was getting cold. I spotted a store across the street so I went in and got a Dr Pepper, a large hot chocolate and some Advil. They didn't have Ibuprofen. Nancy was on her way now and I just needed to wait patiently for her. My muscles were tightening up and my head was pounding a bit too. I felt a little like I had run a marathon. I must have covered 8 miles today with my heavy pack and I was not in shape for that sort of challenge. I got a little attention from the locals but no one was curious enough to talk to me or turn me into the fuzz. I went into the small public library to get warm once. Otherwise I alternated between lying on the picnic table and standing near the rock wall of a deserted garage that had absorbed a little of the sun's radiation. Of course when Nancy arrived she was driving the car whose heater is on the blink. Actually, I didn't care, I was on my way home. Disappointed, but glad to have been relieved of the pack.
That night, after eating a late supper, I went to bed. I did indeed feel like I had run a marathon. My whole body was hot with fatigue. I went right to sleep at about 7 pm and slept hard until 2:30 am. After a visit to the restroom it was back to sleep and more down-time for my body to recover. Two days removed and my calves are still so tight I walk funny. But all in all I'm in good shape. I think this event will have to go in the moral victory category. Stunning success, a term suggested by a liberal journalist friend of mine, seems a little over the top.
Conclusion: My next venture will likely be in milder weather and with a lighter pack. Ideally, I would like to hike from small town to small town but I'm not sure where I would set up camp in those cases. Anyway, I'm a little smarter now and hopefully have laid a bit of a foundation for future success.
By the way, the first verse of my song "Random Roads" was inspired by this endeavor. I think you can click the next button on the music player until it comes up if you're interested in hearing it.
