Listing Through Life

I didn’t stay long at McDonald’s — perhaps 15 minutes. I noticed that while I was sitting there, I wasn’t getting any closer to my goal, and I had decided to press on. I stopped at a nearby Jewel and bought a bottle of water and a package of cookies. I picked up the trail again and headed north.

The north side of McHenry is growing quickly. I thought this photo captured the nature of the area well. A dirt farm field, then a housing development, then a silo. That silo belongs to a farm that has gotten smaller and smaller. It is now sandwiched between a big box store and the houses. There’s probably two acres of farm left, with a muddy pasture with three cows — smack in the middle of suburbia.

The path took me past McCullom Lake, where I’ve been birding many times. Although it’s surrounded by residential area, it is often filled with ducks, grebes, and loons in the spring.

I was near McCullom Lake when two older folks, probably in their late 60’s or early 70’s, biked by in the other direction. They both wore bright blue T-shirts that said “Safety Watch” on the front and back. I know I felt much safer.

I was now out in the country again. The sun was out, and I was hot and still sore. Lunch hadn’t really rejuvenated me to any noticeable degree. The path stretched ruler straight up this long, long hill.

To my total surprise, when I got to the top of the hill, I got a second wind. My feet still hurt, but my hip decided it might as well get with the program and stop hurting. After another two miles through scenery that looked just like that in the shot above (just downhill) and I arrived at Well #8 Buffalo Box (whatever that means?).

When I got to Ringwood, I knew I’d make it the whole way. To celebrate, I pulled out the cookies I purchased in McHenry and compared the actual product with the picture on the package. (I also ate one of them.)

The thrilling town of Ringwood hasn’t painted its name on its water tower. I did manage to find the town name in front of the tower.

I decided this wasn’t good enough and that I was the one to do something about it. I borrowed a Sharpie, climbed the tower and made things right. (Unfortunately, I made a slight spelling error and Sharpies have indelible ink.)

North of Ringwood, the path surface changed from blacktop to crushed gravel.

For some strange reason, the powers that be decided to start the mile numbering all over again. The kid in the black shirt, also visible in the above photo, was behaving oddly. He didn’t look at all the sort to be walking a hiking trail, and he kept looking back over his shoulder at me. He was in no hurry, and I kept getting closer and closer. The path along this stretch runs through woods, and there was nobody else around.

Just before I caught up with him, he stopped alongside the trail and pretended like he was tying his shoes. He didn’t so much as glance at me as I walked by. A few moments after I went by, he started walking behind me. This made me rather nervous, but he didn’t walk any faster that he’d been doing all along, and I soon lost sight of him.

The path ran through Glacial Park, a huge McHenry County forest preserve. I’ve birded there many, many times, but I don’t get there as often as I’d like to because it’s so far from home. And now I’d walked there. The sky was clouding over quickly, and I felt a few raindrops as I crossed the prairie.

It was raining hard when I crossed the bridge over Nippersink Creek, but under the trees, the mosquitoes were out in force. What remained of my second wind was gone by this time.

Here’s the creek as seen from the bridge.

The longest I’d ever walked in a single day was 21.1 miles — around Lake Geneva. It was somewhere in Glacial Park that I passed that mark. Tune in tomorrow for the final chapter of my saga.

When yesterday’s post ended, I was a little north of Crystal Lake. For the next three or four miles, the trail runs alongside a huge sod farm. Although this pan makes the trail look curved, it runs as straight as an arrow for this entire stretch.

Obviously, one of their employees didn’t get the word about “green side up.”

Every half mile, a marker was embedded in the trail to remind me how little progress I was making.

As I entered McHenry, the trail ran alongside backyards and vegetable gardens.

In a small marshy area in the middle of McHenry, I spotted this deer. It was only 15 feet or so off the path, but almost hidden in the reeds. We stared at each other for a couple minutes, and then she decided to take off.

When I took the water tower photo, I was pretty close to halfway done with my walk.

Here’s a closeup of the top of the water tower. As I walked by, one of the guys was shouting like he was pretending he was falling off.

I walked past the Metra coach storage area. Shortly after I took this shot, I passed the woman in the pink shirt up ahead. She jumped when I went by and said, “I didn’t know anybody could be quiet enough to sneak up on me.”

It was now 12:10. I’d walked for four hours without a break and I’d gone about 15.5 miles. And I was tired. All of the walking I’d done so far was on a blacktop surface. My feet hurt and my right hip was killing me. I seriously considered calling my wife and asking her to come pick me up. After all, it wasn’t like I’d trained for this.

Then I thought about how far I’d come and the rather uninteresting terrain I’d passed. I knew I’d very likely never want to make the effort again. I decided to find somewhere to eat lunch before I made up my mind.

When I came to Route 120 in McHenry, I stood and looked over my options. To the right, there was an I-Hop, a Tommy’s Red Hots and a Taco Bell. To the left, there was Burrito City, Pizza Hut, McDonald’s and Burger King. I opted for McDonald’s. Say what you will  … it’s better walking food than a burrito.

I bought a Big N Tasty with cheese, a large fries (for the salt), and a large Diet Coke. According to the message on my cup, I made the right choice.

As I ate, a gentleman with a yellow jumpsuit and rather startling red hair asked if he could get his picture taken with me because he’d heard about my walk and knew I would soon be famous. I wasn’t that thrilled about it, as you can see, but I reluctantly agreed.

Come back tomorrow for chapter three.

On the Saturday before Memorial Day, I woke up with an urge to do something I hadn’t done before. The weather forecast was for a high in the low 70’s with increasing cloudiness and a 20% chance of afternoon rain. That seemed like something I could deal with, so I walked to Wisconsin.

I left home at 8:10 in the morning with a bottle of water and some trail mix. This is Lake Killarney. I’d walked about three miles at this point.

Last month, when I asked for ideas of things to photograph near home, one friend suggested water towers with town names on them. I decided to log today’s walk with water towers. Here’s the first — Crystal Lake.

My route ran along a busy commercial route for a couple miles. That’s where I spotted this herd of bears. I always wonder about things like this. Are there really people who drive somewhere and suddenly say, “Hey, look! Wooden bears. Let’s go buy one”?

I passed the Palmer House, about which I know nothing more than you do.

Instead of taking the shortest route, I headed west to the McHenry County Bike Path — because miles walked on that path count towards the Century Hiking Club and because a path is a more pleasant place to walk than a roadside. I picked up the path near downtown Crystal Lake. I’d walked almost exactly eight miles at that point and had been walking for almost exactly two hours.

The path runs through Stearns Woods for a couple miles. This is a Crystal Lake forest preserve, and it’s by far the hilliest section of the entire trail. Four or five years ago, I had a near-maiming and dismemberment here. I had just purchased a new bike and was riding it for maybe the second time. I came whipping down this very hill (below) and around this very bend to discover a family with about six kids standing across the entire path just staring at me. Not one of them moved. I had three choices:

1. Smash through the middle of them.
2. Slam on my brakes and wipe out on the asphalt.
3. Veer off the path into the woods.

Option one was the most inviting, but I decided on a combination of 2 and 3. I went off the path onto that very narrow strip of gravel, skidded, missed a tree by a fraction of an inch and somehow bounced back up onto the path. Both feet had been jarred off the pedals. I wobbled back and forth for a little ways and finally recovered. I turned back to look at the family. They were still standing in the same spot, staring vacantly at me as though I were a show put on for their amusement and not a very good one, at that.

This is what passes for a forest preserve in these parts.

North of Crystal Lake, the tail runs alongside an active train track. The brochure says it is “one of the country’s longest trails along an active rail corridor.” I’m not at all sure why that’s an accomplishment. For much of the way, a fence with two strands of barbed wire runs between the track and the trail. I’m guessing some bicyclist complained, because every few miles there’s a sign on the fence that says, “barb wire strands required by railroad.”

As for being “active,” the only traffic I saw on the tracks during my seven hours on the trail was a pickup truck.

This was one of several places where the barbed wire fence (required by the railroad) stopped and the trail ran right next to the tracks. You can see the fence starting up again behind the purple Ds.

I was about 10.5 miles from home at this point.

Tune in tomorrow for chapter two.