I hit the road, heading towards St. Croix Falls and
Nimblewill. The night before, I had
talked to Nimblewill and the plan was for me to meet him by the end of the
Gandy Dancer segment of the IAT in Centurdia.
This plan sounded ridiculous as I trucked north, but after stashing my
bike at the western terminus (and getting a McChicken and large soda from
McDonald’s to counter the impending hangover) I met up with Nimblewill in
Centurdia. I was not alone hiking with
him this day as Gray Ghost and newly minted thru-hiker Paul and his cousin Nate
joined the fray, quite the motley crew.
I was about to text former resident Professor Englund about how crappy
Centurdia still was when; of course, Pete, Trish and the rugrats pull up. Holy Cow!
They hadn’t been back to town since they left for Iowa in the spring so
the coincidence of our crossing paths was mind-blowing. We all talked trail for a while before we
parted ways. The trail wasn’t going to
finish itself!
 |
| Paul on his hike. |
The Gandy Dancer was finished in short order and we turned
onto 160th for a couple mile road walk to the final section. Conversation moved freely between the hikers
as we talked about the weather and shared stories about our hikes. When a quiet moment floated up, we kept
walking because hikers become comfortable with silence when spending long days,
weeks and months on the trail. Our
mouths may by shut, but our minds are still at work taking in the scenery and
thinking about the trail that lay behind us and what may be awaiting us around
the bend.
 |
| My favorite Gray Ghost picture |
Paul had finished the trail, 3 short weeks earlier, and was
eager to get back out and do some more hiking to help out a fellow
thru-hiker. Chet “Gray Ghost” had
thru-hiked in 2009 and I followed in 2010 so we had group of well-versed Ice
Age Trail hikers. We made it the start
of the St. Croix segment where Paul’s cousin Nate, had stashed a cooler with
snacks and beverages. Perfect! We refueled our bodies and refilled our water
bottles while talking about the trail ahead.
This was the start of the last segment of the Ice Age Trail, a measly
7.4 miles stood between Nimblewill and the completion of his thru-hike.
 |
| Scrambling along the St. Croix River |
 |
| From my hike
We set off down the trail with the St. Croix River guiding
us on our right. It was a nice day for hiking
with temps around 80 and cloudy skies, with just a whisper of breeze
occasionally floating by. We made good
time, only slowing down to hopscotch on the rocks across the few clear,
gurgling streams that flowed into the river.
Arriving at the campsite in the St. Croix National Scenic Riverway, I
asked Nimblewill if he wanted to set up camp here for the night. I mean it was 3 in the afternoon and getting
late… He chuckled “not a chance” and we
continued on up to Lions Park.
|
 |
| The campsite from my hike |
The trail led us through the Mindy Creek section, which is
one of my favorites. There is a deep,
narrow gorge with some fantastic rockwork and views and all of this only a
stone’s throw from some houses. They
probably don’t even appreciate it. We
wound through town, mixing between roads and trails passing by schools,
hospitals (and a few of Chet’s friend’s houses) and woods on our way to the
Western Terminus.
 |
| Mindy Creek Section from my hike |
Finally, shortly after 5, we entered Interstate State Park. This is where I opened a beer on my hike, but
sadly, no beer was present today.
Nimblewill’s gait quickened as he sensed the end. It was day 45 for him and was ready to be
done and get home. The rest of us
followed behind, trying to keep up with the legendary hiker. Being a state park, signage was dismal (although
not as horrible as Devil’s Lake) so Nimblewill had to slow down a few times to
make sure he was on the right path. He
wanted a picture of the last blaze on the Ice Age Trail and it happened to be
the one I campaigned for after my hike when I was a few hundred yards from the
end but had to stop at a trail junction because I had no idea where to go (at
least there was one good thing that came out of my hike).
We crossed the road to join the Potholes Trail and walk the
last few yards. I wasn’t sure what to
expect as I retraced the last steps of my hike.
Some of the same emotions swept over me, but this time I wasn’t
alone. I was in the company of hardened
long-distance hikers who have been down the same road as me. We turned the last corner and stopped,
letting Nimblewill walk the last 20 feet by himself. This was his hike and the penultimate step in
his quest to hike all 11 National Scenic Trails. There was no hoopla, no balloons or
streamers, just an old man with his pack, gazing at the plaque affixed to a
rock declaring that this is the western terminus.
I don’t know what was going through his head, but I felt
honored to be with him at the end, to watch this 73-year-old man with more
trail miles behind him than most anyone else take his last step and genuflect
on his journey. It was a moment I will
not soon forget.
 |
| Nimblewill, Gray Ghost, Paul and I |
After saying goodbye to Nimblewill, my thoughts turned to
the next person I’d be saying goodbye to before the day was over, Jess at the
Come Back In. It was 7:30 and I was in
St. Croix. It was going to be a push to
stop in EC to snag some food from the rents and make it down to Madison before
the night was over, but I had to make it.
It was Jess’s last night working at the Come Back before moving out to Portland. She may be one of my absolute favorite bartenders, but she’s
more than that. Sure, she did a great
job remembering my beer of choice and time card number, but to call her just a
bartender would be doing a disservice to her.
Jess is one of the coolest girls I’ve met and a welcome sight for sore
eyes after a long day (Yes, beauty is in the eye of the beer holder). Not to mention she has the brains to boot. She
is a math nerd (and I say that endearingly) and always up for a good
conversation or stay after her shift to have a beer or two. When I’d come across an interesting math
article (not an oxymoron) like this recent one in the New York Times asking if
Algebra is necessary, I’d print it out for her. I’d stop by the Come Back to have a beer just
because she was working. She was always
great at turning my day around if I was having a crummy day. Yes, Jess will be missed.
I finally rolled into the Come Back at 12:30 and the place
was rocking. Sunday nights are karaoke
nights and the crowd is pretty enthusiastic about its karaoke. I took a seat on the side of the bar away
from the singing (I’m more of a sinner than a singer) and gave Jess a high
5. She was in good spirits to say the
least. Jess didn’t have to ask if I
wanted a beer or what flavor, she turned around and promptly poured a Bell’s
Two Hearted for me. Ahhh, nothing like a
great beer from your favorite bartender after a long day.
We talked a bit before she had to tend to other patrons and
I sat there like usual, staring blankly at the TV’s showing replays of the
sporting events of the day. As I get
older, I’m caring less and less about sports, they don’t seem very important
anymore. I think ESPN and its TMZing of
sports has been a big factor in that (I don’t care what Tebow wore at practice
today, he still sucks). Anyways, sitting
alone at the bar has made for great contemplation time. When alone on the trail, your mind can wander
and lead you in many different directions, but, living in Madison, those
opportunities elude me. I don’t have
those quiet moments of reflection with work and the seductive nature of the TV
at home. The bar may not be quiet, but
it somehow helps stimulate my mind (beer may have something to do with
this). When I’m working on a blog post
or article for Mammoth Tales and I get stuck and waste my time not writing,
I’ll go to the bar to free up my mind and the words start flowing again.
Jess came back around and offered up a shot, which I gladly
accepted. We talked off and on while I
whittled away at the beer in my mug. She’d
stop over and relate a story about a fellow patron acting stupid and I’d try to
pretend that I wouldn’t be that stupid.
A good bartender keeps you coming back, not just because of
their drink making skills or looks, but also from the interactions with the
patrons. Anyone can serve a beer, but a
well-placed smile or word can do wonders.
It was an end of an era at the Come Back. When I first started to frequent the bar a
few years back, the triumvirate of Roxanne, Andura and Jess kept the mugs full
and put a smile on everyone’s face with their great service and friendly
personalities. Roxanne was the first go
as she left for a “real” job, but we still had Andura and Jess to slake our
thirsts. You could head down to the Come
Back at any time and chances were, one of the ladies was working. Then Andura left for the greener pastures of
the Great Dane. And with Jess leaving,
the final leg of the beautiful bartending trio is no more at the Come
Back.
I finished the beer, but Jess was busy trying to get all of
her duties done so she could get out of there and start drinking herself so Duly
filled up my mug. Last call was made, signaling the end of
karaoke and people started making their way to the door. I slowly finished my beer, trying to savor
the last few sips. With my beer gone, I
had no choice but to leave. I gave Jess
a final hug and ambled out the door.
Nimblewill and Jess may not have a lot in common on the
surface, but they both play an integral role in two of my favorite things,
hiking and drinking, respectively. Much
wisdom is to be gained from walking even a single day with Nimblewill and
spending enough nights getting served by Jess will make your life a little more
enjoyable and wholesome. Sure, there
will be other bartenders and hikers, but Jess and Nimblewill will always hold
special places in my heart.
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