Ice Age Trail Days 39-43, May 1 to 5, 94 miles: Is it spring now?

May 5, 2025, Devils Lake State Park, Wisconsin, by Roger Carpenter / Greg in Wild

My real-time location: Garmin InReach

The view outside from my hotel window on May 1 was not encouraging. The parking lot had large puddles of rain that fell most of the night. My weather app predicted high temperature in the upper 40s. “Really?” I thought. The hike would be easy because it was one more day on the ‘great IAT roadwalk to southern Wisconsin”. Great! It should be warmer in the south, right? Less rain? Maybe, just not that day. I needed to hike 26.7 miles, but a brief stop in the small town of Montello could provide midday relief.

Neither the rain nor wind were strong, but both were persistent. After 12 miles, as I felt the cold dampness deep under my base layers and rain jacket, I noted a pit toilet building in a parking area next to a lake . Without hesitation, I went inside to get dry and perhaps warm up.

Back on the road, I soon entered the streets of Montello, an old lakeside town with a large waterfall and the official route  of the IAT. Google Maps guided me to Table 15 on Main Street, and I stepped inside, looking soaked to the bones. It seemed to me that all ten customers inside stared at me, wondering why a cold-soaked backpacker would wander into a place like that! “What can I get for you?” asked tbe young woman behind tbe counter. “I just need to set down my pack and get my wet jacket off first!” I blurted conspicuously. It was not my finest moment on the IAT. I needed to get warm!

I regrouped. “I’ll take a mocha and one of the scones, ” I said while pointing to the glass pastry case. I sat, at last, with 14 bone-chilled miles of hunger. Kurt, the man setting closest to me, asked about my hike. “I do some volunteer work on tbe IAT,” he said after I described my 39-day journey.   Vivian, the woman sitting to my left, overheard my conversation with Kurt, and jumped right in. Emily soon brought the mocha and scone I ordered. It did not take long for me to feel the warmth of the place. It was the welcoming feeling, not the temperature. But the hot coffee drink helped.

“Can I ask you some questions?” Emily asked with notepad. I think every long-distance hiker loves to talk about their experiences. I am no exception. “AT the end of the day, my happy place is inside my tent in a warm sleeping bag,” I said as the interview was over. Emily promised to post a photo she took on the Table 15 Facebook feed. I shook hands with Kurt, who offered help if I ever need it, and Vivian hugged me. I looked at the bottles of wine behind the counter. “Oh, I wish I could stay longer, but I need to be in Portage tomorrow afternoon to pick up several parcels.”

“You should meet Kathleen, who is a local historian,” said Emily. Kathleen McGwin came over to me. “You will be going to Ennis Lake?” she asked. “Tomorrow,” I predicted. “The John Muir Memorial site is there. You will see it when you circle tbe Lake. The house where Muir spent some of his youth is on a hill above tbe lake.” I got excited. “This is the kind of thing that makes hiking the IAT even more meaningful to me,” I explained.

During a 60-minute visit to Table 15, I felt like the whole community opened their hearts for me. I like to write about forests, animals, birds, weather, the resilience needed to get through challenging moments. But it seems the real story of the Ice Age Trail is told through the random encounters with tbe warm and friendly people of Wisconsin.

The rain stopped as I continued my roadwalk toward Ennis Lake and the history of John Muir and the area that inspired him to be one of the greatest naturalists and advocates for conservation in the world. Not far from Ennis Lake, I slept warm and dry in my happy place, disturbed briefly by the subterranean sounds of a mole chewing on roots near my tent.

On May 5, I hiked into Devils Lake State Park where I will camp. The park is not far from where I grew up. I once camped here during my high school years with a friend who recently passed away, Ken Brunkalla. Rest in peace, my friend. You have been on my mind as I walked here.