I was as close to giving up on the North Country Trail as I have ever been on any of my 21,500 miles of backpacking, except for when I had three broken bones in my foot on the Pacific Northwest Trail. My foot was excruciatingly painful. Temperatures were in the nineties, made worse by a complete lack of shade and high humidity. The humidity was exceedinly high due to something called corn sweat or evapotranspiration which is caused by tens of thousands of acres of corn putting moisture into the air. The big sky views and grasslands were nice, but I was not finding the scenery exciting enough to offest my pain. In many areas the grass was not mowed, making it difficult to enjoy walking. I had to completely focus on where to put each foot so as not to fall into a gopher hole or some other obstacle hidden under the chest high grass, which took surprising effort to push through. There was a LOT of walking on roads. Blacktop roads were burning my feet, causing my newly skin-grafted foot to break open. Trucks going down the gravel roads caused so much dust I had to cover my mouth and eyes when they went by. And every day I was finding up to fifty ticks a day crawling up my pants. I kept reminding myself I would not quit on a bad day, but when day after day felt bad I wondered if I might have to change my rules. Then I was saved by angels.

After the angels along Lake Astabula, whom I mentioned in my last blog, it was Jack in Valley City. He insisted on buying me a few meals including one at an all you can eat Pizza Ranch in Lisbon where I stuffed myself with fried chicken, a huge plate of salad and almost an entire pizza. I topped it off with a root beer float. He helped me slack pack for a few days. Then I met up with Michelle R who hiked with me on a particularly hot, grueling day through the national grasslands in ND. She then helped me slack pack for part of another day.

After that slack pack, I set out to walk with my pack just under six miles to a designated campsite where I was told someone had left water. En route I got a lovely message from Gail who offered to pick me up just a mile or so past the campsite. I jumped at the opportunity and kept myself moving on, even though it was in the upper 90s with high humidity.

I thoroughly enjoyed my time with Gail, her husband, Trana, and their relatives Fred and Leah while I was a guest on the farm where Trana and Leah had grown up. We were able to exchange some trail talk since Gail has done the entire trail through North Dakota.

I doubt I will ever forget how good it felt to have a warm shower when I was hiking the Appalachian Trail in winter. Now, added to my list of memorable showers is the one I took at Gails, washing off the dust and cooling down my overheated body.

The following day, Gail drove me back to where I had gotten off the trail with the promise to pick me up about 15 miles down the trail when it came to the little town of Walcott. I was able to enjoy some of the off road sections of trail, but still, by the time I reached Walcott, I texted a few friends telling them I didn’t know if I was going to continue. I knew part of it was the intense heat, but also I was having trouble pushing through so much pain.

I felt a bit better after cooling down and eating a late lunch at the small bar in Walcott, a treat offered to me by Gail. I felt even better after taking a zero at Gail’s the following day. I cooked dinner for Gail and her family, happy to offer something back for their kindness.

The next day, I once again headed out without a pack. Gail arranged to hand it off to Jan, the current president of the North County Trail association. Jan offered to drive an hour from her house to pick me up about 15 miles down the trail when I hit Abercrombie. My next resupply was waiting for me at Fort Abercrombie, where a gem of a person named Lennie was gladly holding it for me. He has a reputation for kindness to everyone, and especially to hikers. Fort Abercrombie is on the Minnesota border, and was my last town in North Dakota.

The first part of that morning, walking toward Abercrombie was pleasant, following a lesser used railroad track. There was actually some shade and the trail had been mowed. While the skin graft still hurt, I was now convinced I did not have a stress fracture, but rather some soft tissue stain, which had recovered a bit by not carrying my pack, stretching my tight leg muscles, and trying not to walk crooked on my burnt foot. But by the time I reached Colfax and the remaining miles turned to road, I was wilting in the heat. I could feel the paved road burning my foot, and tried to walk as much as possible on the gravel off to the side. Even the dirt roads were brutal on this near 100 degree day, and by the time I reached Abercrombie I was again in tears.

Jan rescued me with drinks and snacks and drove me the hour to her house. I took another zero day, getting to know Jan and her husband Jim, who are both avid outdoors people.

I was thrilled when Jan offered to lend me a bike to do the next 106 miles of trail, which are mostly on paved road. Jim meticulously adjusted the seat and made sure the bike was in good working order. He even found panniers for the bike so I could carry gear without my pack. I left my pack and some unnecessary items for the bike ride behind.

Jan and Jim saw me off at Abercrombie, snapping photos of me as I entered Minnesota. Then we said our goodbyes, knowing I would see them again a few days up the trail when they picked up the bike and brought my pack to me.

I joyfully went on my way, putting miles under my feet without the same level of pain. My goal the first day was to make it 47 miles to Fergus Falls. I knew it would be a lot, I just didn’t count on all the challenges the Trail was still going to throw at me. But as this is long enough, you’ll have to wait until the next blog to read about the challenges faced on that first day on the bike, as well as the next angels who came my way.

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