Looking back a day later, what sticks in my mind about this walk the most is a series of disconnected images, as opposed to one cohesive narrative.
I’m at Dunkin’ Donuts, grabbing a coffee on my way out of town. A couple is already there, enjoying their consistent morning routine, with drinks and breakfast. I quickly come to understand that this is their go-to, far more often than not. Another regular pops in soon after, getting her two donuts and coffee drink. Before long, they’re complaining about the price of groceries, especially hot dogs. “$9.99 for a pack at ALDI!” I do some quick calculations; each of them is paying around $10/person at Dunkin’ each day. There’s no judgment here; people should spend their money how they like. And I’ve had plenty of moments of annoyance about food prices on this trip. It’s the inconsistencies and blind spots I find interesting, though, as people emotionally grapple with their spending.
The first half of the Heart of Iowa Nature Trail is the best walking I’ve had in Iowa. Lush, green, shady. The footpath is soft and so easy on the feet. The trees encroach snugly on each side, like a blanket that has been well tucked.
I arrive in Collins at 1:55pm. That’s cutting it close. The bakery here shuts down at 2pm. I hustle inside and the woman at the counter merrily welcomes me. I grab a cookie; it seems like a quick, inoffensive pre-closing choice. Instead of resenting the late intrusion, she happily fills my water bottle and invites me to sit for a while in the luxurious A/C, even after she has shut the place down.
From Collins, the Heart of Iowa Nature Trail is blocked off with closed signs. At this point, I’ve decided to just ignore such signs, unless there’s obvious work taking place. Too often, they’re “closed” but otherwise empty for miles. Well, today is my chance to finally encounter a work crew–a one-man work crew, in this case–a couple miles into the trail. He just sort of looks at me, shrugs, and waves me past his dump truck. Much of the trail was recently bulldozed, so the wonderfully soft surface was gone, but it is otherwise walkable.
I spend two hours at Mom’s restaurant in Maxwell. Dinner is great. The best part, though, is the hospitality, as the woman in charge–before anything else–slides my pack over, sits down in the booth opposite, and engages me in conversation for a while. She repeatedly makes sure that I am being taken care of. When the public wifi isn’t working, she gives me access to her business line. When I ask if I can just sit there for another hour and fire off some emails, she invites me to stay as long as I want. On a day when I was out walking from 5am and looking ahead to a sweaty night in the tent, the gift of two hours in a cool, comfortable place is hard to overstate. I tell her about how much I enjoyed the Heart of Iowa Nature Trail. She tells me that the ongoing construction work will pave and widen the trail, removing some of the trees and all of the grass. But the bicyclists will be happier.
Well, maybe not this one. “Why are you meddling in my mother-fucking business?” The shout comes from behind me as I exit Mom’s, and it prompts me to make an impressively tight 180 spin. I find a woman riding a bike down the middle of the street. She was wearing cowboy boots. She had a 12-pack of Busch Light in the bike’s front basket. Perhaps there were a few empties. As it happens, she wasn’t talking to me. Perhaps she was on the phone? I’ll never know.
