The same chairs used last week when Yooper Brother Mark and I were sitting, drinking Cokes, and enjoying temperatures close to 70 degrees.

April 23, 2015 - Thursday morning
23 degrees/clear/calm
Pentoga Road

I'm not sure what time the bad weather left during the night. I remember lying in bed, around 3 this morning, and could still hear the wind chimes on the front porch blowing in the breeze. After three days of Sitka-like squalls, it appears we're in for a stretch of normal temperatures and sunny days. Amen.

At least the assessments of the final projects in my class are up to date, although, very few came in. It's as I thought; the rest will arrive at the last minute and there'll be two or three days of nonstop academic action before the semester ends.

I bade Sargie goodbye yesterday morning and thought it would be a good day to clean the garage. That thought lasted about two minutes. Even with the door down, the temperature was well below freezing and just listening to wind howl and the snow/rain hit the garage door made me shiver. I made my way back to the wood stove by way of the coffee pot.

Several more attempts at outside activities were made during the day, but in the end, I found myself back inside, usually staring at videos made by last year's hikers on the Appalachian Trail. The resolve to attempt a thru-hike strengthened and by day's end, I felt the conviction to strap on my hiking boots, dust off the back packing equipment, and begin getting back in shape for a future attempt.

It's hard to destroy a dream that's over forty years old and honestly, as hard as I've tried to forget about it, the thought of hiking the AT never left. Since last summer's wanderings along Lake Superior, when I became a bit lost and decided my solo long-distance hiking days were finished, my daily walking has diminished a great deal and when I do, there's little spring in my step. My belly is expanding, my back continually hurts, and when I think of getting back in shape, really good shape, thoughts like, "What's the use?" or "I don't feel like doing that today," creep into my head. It appears the extra ten pounds I normally gain during the winter months has decided to call my waistline its permanent home. In a nutshell, I'm starting to feel like others who may have bad backs, are overweight and out of shape, who might have some sort of handicap and have decided to become existing lumps on a log, who think that daily exercise is simply too much work and not worth it. I'm tired of feeling sorry for myself. 

So I made up my mind last night, right after saying my pillow prayers, that I'm going to plan on trying to hike the Appalachian Trail. It's been done by people who can't see nearly as well as I do and they obviously didn't quit, so who am I to give up my dream?

I was watching a video yesterday of a thru-hiker, a young man who had started in Georgia and was climbing Mt. Washington in New Hampshire on his way to Maine. He commented he'd started the ascent earlier that day, had been climbing for four hours and that it was the most difficult ascent he'd yet made on his 2,180 mile journey. 

Deep in thought, I watched. He was on the same trail my four sons and I used on my sixtieth birthday, only we went one better, we not only summited Mt. Washington from its base, we went back down in one day. I was sixty years old. The guy I was watching was... maybe thirty? 

That's when it dawned on me... I can do that trail, or at least make the attempt, or I can continue to feel sorry for myself while lamenting about days gone by. 

The chances of finishing the AT hiking solo, especially as the years go by and with diminishing sight, grow slimmer, but a guy has to have something to plan for, a dream, a goal; something bigger than making strawberry planters and growing giant pumpkins. That's what I've taught my students for the past forty-two years, that's how I raised my sons, that's what took me to Alaska. As my son, Luke, is so fond of saying, "Hey, that's the way I roll." Game on.

Page two

Sargie arrived home last night and we enjoyed left over vegetable/beef stew for supper. Stew, especially on a cold and wintery night, tastes so good. 

Sargie closes today and it will be long one for her. I'm going to work in the shop and think about beginning to clean the garage. There's a bag of cans and a couple of batteries that needs recycling and all sorts of goodies that have been merely dropped on the work bench all winter with the thought that they'll be put away when spring arrives. As much as it's snowed in the past three days, I think spring has arrived. It's time.

I'm going to ride with Sargie up the road for five miles and walk back home. Today, for the first time in many months, there's going to be spring in my step and a dream in my heart. Hey, that's the way I roll.

After all, a man's work is never done.

So are the tales from Pentoga Road...