Soon after Pat Kosher, a Trail Angel in Cornell, gave me a ride back to the IAT on April 8, I received a message from Chalice, the wife of my brother Jim. He was going to enter hospice. Jim seemingly had beaten lymphoma that was diagnosed in 2015, but complications from infections made him progressively weaker for three months.
The reality of Jim’s situation shifted my energy on the trail to one of despair, fatigue, and pain. There was no doubt that sadness made my body ache and my hiking uneven. The hummocks were mostly devoid of wildlife except for the occasional squirrel and waterfoul flying away. Silence was no comfort.
On April 9, while thinking constantly of my brother, the tedious, muddy, and boggy trail served to remind me of the courageous battle Jim fought for nearly ten years. So I fought the Ice Age Trail’s boggy Jerry Lake segment all day, desperate for dry, level ground to pitch my tent. When I finally found a suitable campsite in a dark, dense forest carpeted with fallen leaves, I realized Jim’s wife had sent no updates that day. Waiting. I moved slowly while preparing my dinner until I collapsed into my sleeping bag. Zipping the tent fully shut helped me hide from the universe for eight hours. In the darkness of midnight, I checked for messages. Nothing.
Ice and snow fell from the sky on April 10. I had emerged from the bogs and entered a National Forest Campground, where I sat inside a toilet building to stay dry while eating breakfast. An outhouse is not a happy place to dine, and I got the hell out of there.
In early afternoon I emerged from the boggy forest and started a 2.5 mile roadwalk. It was there when the message came in. Jim passed peacefully surrounded by his wife, her sister and two close friends.
I struggled to find a way to process Jim’s death while hiking in nature, where I often discover karma in many forms. I stopped for the day at a well constructed campsite that was built by a local boy scout troupe, which reminded me of the days when Jim and I were in Boy Scouts together. I recalled the humid summer nights when we camped inside an old canvas tent pitched in our backyard. I talked to my younger brother, Brian, on the phone. Larry, Jim’s closest friend, urged us via text to “stay strong.” Good wisdom!
With frozen shoes and socks to start, I hiked 10 miles into the trail town of Rib Lake in warming sunshine and mostly dry trail. Along the way, I met Resilience, a woman who was just a few miles from completing the entire IAT in segments. I told her of the wonderful experiences I had hiking the Ice Age Trail and meeting many kind people along the 270-plus miles of my journey. “I am not a fast hiker, but I keep going. That’s what my trail name is for,” Resilience admitted. We did a traditional hiker fist-bump before condirections our separate directions.
Moments later, I was startled when a small snake, warming its cold-blooded body in the sun, slithered away from my footsteps. In the circumstances, the snake was good karma, just as meeting the positive Resilience was.
Later that day, in a laundromat in Rib Lake, I talked to a local resident about the Ice Age Trail and the recreational activities that attract people to the area. When I approached the soft drink vending machine the man assertively spoke. “I’ll get that for you!” Oh, was I surprised! It was the second act of kindness of the day, not counting the snake. I shook his hand as he left the building.
Soon, another man arrived to wash clothes. When he realized he was short of quarters to finish his laundry, I knew what to do. “A kind gentleman just paid for my root beer. I’m going to pay it forward so you can have dry clothes!” I shook his had before leaving the laundromat.
The events of the day inspired a way to process my loss: kindness. It was all around me in Rib Lake. Moreover, my brother Jim was a kind man. He was my leader as a child. He inspired me to learn, work hard, and be self-reliant. He volunteered his time for several causes during his life, most recently at the non-profit Fiddlers Dream Coffeehouse in Arizona with his close friends Larry and Nia.
I will remember Jim as I hike every additional mile of the Ice Age Trail and believe that kindness to others is the best way to honor the people in our lives who have sadly departed.
Hike on…with kindness!
Thank you for sharing your thoughts. I hear you on how grief impacts the body. It’s hard to say goodbye to Jim. He’s been such a good stepdad to me. I’m glad I can call you and hear the same voice. Keep climbing, uncle!
Oh Roger, we are sooooo sorry to hear about your brother’s death! As you continue your hike, it will be, as you suggested, such a wonderful time for you to recall memories and reflect on your time together and what he meant to you. Bob and I think there is no better place to do these things than on the trails and woods surrounded by the sounds and sights of nature. Blessings to you, dear friend!
Great choice of words Bro
Roger this was incredibly beautiful. Jim would have loved that you were able to grieve, process, and FEEL while being outdoors. He was always so proud of your hiking adventures. Thank you for being such a wonderful brother to Jimbo.
Roger – So sorry for the loss of your dear brother. May the moments of solitude on trail bring you good memories of the time you shared together.
Thank you
Pete and I are so sorry for the loss of your brother. Both of us have lost siblings so we know and share your grief. May you find the healing peace you seek on the trail and may God bring you safely home to all of us. Your Portlandia Camino buddies, Karolin & Pete
I just started reading of your IAT adventure. I was very saddened about the loss of your brother. You write about your feelings with raw honesty and eloquence..
You are gutsy to continue the hike. May the kindness you extend come back tenfold. Onward….. Jill
Kindness is the key here Roger. Your thoughts & memories are beautiful. I’m so sorry for your loss, the pain is real and you are already processing it through this beautiful message. You & your family are in my thoughts. You are one of the kindest people I know. Maythese memories give you the support & comfort needed now.
Sorry for your loss.
Seems you have found the best way to cope
Kindness
Roger. I am so sorry to hear about your brother Jim’s passing. I hope you will continue to be comforted by many happy memories of him, and by the beauty through which you are hiking. Keep adding kindness to our world!
Wishing you peace and comfort
Judy
A walk in the woods is a wonderful place to remember and celebrate your brother. Thanks for sharing with us ❤️❤️
Roger, I’m so sorry for your loss.
Hi Roger…
I am so sorry to hear about your brother’s passing. It sounds like he was a great guy and kindness is a wonderful legacy to leave behind. I hope you find nature offers you peace and comfort as you think about him along the trail.
Miriam
Roger,
Thank you for sharing your experience. Your writing inspires a life well lived. “Hike on…with Kindness!” is a very fitting tribute. As Jim’s son-in-law married to his oldest step-daughter (Crystalee), I will miss Jim. He was a constant and reliable figure in the family. I will miss our chats, and the general sense of calm and love he would share.
Processing Jim’s passing comes in little fits while having a busy life with four little kids, career responsibilities, and triathlon training. While reading your post enjoying a beautiful sunset over the Great Salt Lake, I was able to process some emotions about the loss in the family.
Robin, brother Larry and I are extremely saddened by Jim’s passing. God’s blessings to you, Brian and your family. ❤️
Roger,
So sorry to hear about your brother’s passing. I hope hiking the trail brings you peace.
Klaire-the waitress
Keep trucking. Good thoughts!
Roger,
Sorry to hear of your brother’s passing.
Marv
Roger,
We are so sorry to hear of the loss of your brother . We hope the trail continues to give you peace.
Greg and Mary Beth
I’m sorry for your loss. I can think no better place than being on thru hike like the IAT to be alone with your thoughts.