Creative Connections by Sara Aeikens

 

My husband brings me a hot mug of cocoa with mini marshmallows, and my mind transports me to a warmer day in August. It reminds me of the time I chose to take an unusual path for my summer 2-mile morning walk across Dane Bay Bridge. This time, I walked west down Fountain Street until I approached the abandoned railway. I  wandered up the grassy hillside near St. John’s health care center to cross the abandoned railroad tracks. I stopped in the middle to consider which direction to take. I’d done it a few times before, but not recently.

I picked the long trek through the oval opening the overhanging evergreen bushes formed. Amazingly, both sides looked mowed, but I wondered how that could be, since the path was covered with rocks that were left after they closed the tracks. I decided to head across the two streets connected to the trail, a few blocks from home. I noticed there was no one around. I’d forgotten the railway bridge halfway through that gave a crossing over the stream, similar to the one in Shoff Park. It had  been years since I crossed this bridge, but I wondered if it would still be the same for my 77-year-old self. I decided it didn’t feel safe. I would not walk it. I also knew I did not care to walk all the way back to St. John’s crossing.

I decided to engage in a somewhat scary adventure. I’d learned some crawling camp activities in Girl Scouts, so I got on my hands and knees and began the journey. Of course, I had worn long sturdy trousers and tennis shoes that day and brought my sling water bottle holder, so I had nothing to be concerned with about my clothes or what I had to carry.

I put my glasses into my pants pocket and began to venture across the bridge on my hands and knees. It sure felt like a long ways to the top of the stream. I counted the rotting wooden railroad ties while crawling over them. My knees were sore after crossing 30 ties. I heard a “klunking” noise on my right side. Oops! My glasses slid out of my side pocket and fortunately landed on a wooden tie. They were an old pair I still use for outdoor walking sessions, so I was very grateful they didn’t land in the stream below. I stuck them back on my face.

Next, I squirmed from my knees to my seat while still facing the oval opening exit. I completed the last half of my journey with my feet bottoms as well as my seat bottom, plus my hands for support. This crab-style trip didn’t seem as hard as the first part. Since previous railway walkers tossed empty water bottles and snack bags along the green rocky pathway, I decided to capture as many as I could reach and stuffed them into a large discarded paper bag for the next garbage deposit. As soon as I cleared the water beneath me, I felt safe on solid ground again. I reached the oval white sky exit surrounded by evergreens and gratefully, but probably not gracefully, guided myself homeward in an upright position.

The entire trip turned out to take double the time,  and became one of the more interesting of my Albert Lea walks.  All without cold or snow. 

Sara Aeikens is an Albert Lea resident.