The ADT Journey – Week 33

Posted on February 1, 2022 by admin

After we endured our coldest night of the journey, clear skies and increasingly warm weather blessed our thirty-third week of hiking, though we still witnessed the effects of the misty, rainy Missouri weather as we walked along the floodplains of the mighty Mississippi River.  We encountered a town, New Valmeyer, created after flooding of Valmeyer led to astronomical insurance rates..

Fortunately, the flooding was not severe as we walked south along the lengthy Bluff Road that sliced between the Mississippi River to the west and limestone bluffs to the east.  The bluffs looked brighter than the ones lining the Missouri River, due to the sunny skies.  Bright red cardinals continued to conspicuously appear amidst the dull winter vegetation, joined now by turkey vultures, flying and resting high up in the bluffs.

We encountered many dogs on this stretch.  Though Cindy loves dogs, she hiked by the side of me away from barking dogs whenever we encountered them.  Having encountered black bears under various circumstances, barking dogs did not concern me, aside from getting tired of listening to them.

We passed one home with a bunch of small dogs yapping, calling their owner’s attention towards us.  Mary came over to find out what we were doing.  That led to a conversation where we learned Mary acquired all the dogs from the humane society.  While many people we encountered had rescue dogs, Mary took adopting a step further.  She acquired guardianship of two boys unrelated to her, one now eighteen, the other ten.  Both their original parents and grandparents were meth users and occasionally in prison.  After we continued on hiking, Cindy chatted about Mary being a saint.

On our last afternoon of hiking on Bluff Road, a car stopped to tell us we went beyond our rendezvous point with Ky at a state park.  Bob and Joan Reid first brought us back to Ky, then invited us all to stay at his Best Western Reid’s Inn in Chester.  That evening Bob took us out to the Harvest House buffet restaurant he owned.  He also called the Ad Editor of the local paper to come and do a story on us; I suspect there was an additional, savvy self-interest involved.

In addition to being a savvy Chester businessman, Bob loved his childhood hometown.  After our buffet dinner he took us on a ride around town which, considering that Chester is the decidedly proud home of Popeye, was akin to a film studio tour.  Murals and statues let tourists know that the Mississippi River was home to the most famous cartoon tug boat.

We headed south from Chester on Illinois 3, which turned out to be the worst stretch of the entire ADT.  I thought that would be the case as we were hiking along the road and now in retrospect I can confirm.  Mainly coal haulers passed us on this narrow road, sending gusts of wind to blow us off balance.  The shoulder sloped treacherously to the side of the road, but our only choices were to either walk with a slant within a very narrow space or to be crushed by a coal hauler.  The only good feature of this stretch was a two-seater outhouse at Rockwood Memorial Park, located where we finally and thankfully left Illinois 3.

From there we got onto the Levee Road, where King Coal was still very much in evidence.  Mountains of pitch black coal delivered by the coal haulers were loaded onto rail cars of the Union Pacific Railroad.  As glimpses of the Mississippi River occasionally came into view we also spotted massive barges carrying coal as well.

Our last town stop along the Mississippi River was Grand Tower, a modern day version of the boom and bust mining towns we encountered in Nevada.  A power plant became the main source of jobs and income for Grand Tower, which built up accordingly.  Then the plant became fully automated and went from employing four hundred to five people.  Not even a government program meant to be a stimulus could reinvigorate the town, according to the hosts we stayed with for two evenings while Ky slack packed us.  Grand Tower, like the old Nevada mining towns, provides a cautionary tale about choosing the short term riches of a sugar daddy corporation over the long term stability of diverse, smaller businesses.

Mike Ellet was the mayor of Grand Tower and former park manager for Devil’s Backbone Campground, which marks one end of the River to River Trail we would be hiking on next.  His wife Joyce was a nurse who engaged Cindy in “shoptalk” while we were there.  Cindy appeared to be completely at ease chatting with Joyce, an unfamiliar person with something in common, more evidence that Cindy was on the mend.

Mike had thru-hiked the River-to-River Trail with mules and welcomed the chance to talk about the trail ahead of us.  He warned us about athletic people being surprised by the trail.  Considering that we looked like “an old man and a young blonde,” he no doubt thought of us as the next “victims” of surprise.  The RtR guidebook supported this cautionary view, informing readers to expect one mph as the pace through the wilderness area the RtR traverses.  As someone for whom only White Mountain Trails in New Hampshire limited me to a one mph pace, I just nodded respectfully at the cautions.

We donned our full packs for the River to River Trail, which slices across the southern tip of Illinois to connect the Mississippi and Ohio Rivers.  Cindy and I were glad as always to get back on trail, though this one was officially closed for the season.  We could understand why that might be so, as the muddy trail we encountered was vulnerable to erosion.  Besides not having much alternative in the midst of a long, cross-country trip, we trusted that being the only hikers on that trail for weeks meant little harm done.

We had three sets of maps to guide us along the RtR Trail.  I plotted the official ADT waypoints on maps I printed out with software from National Geographic, one of our sponsors.  I also had a Forest Service map and the maps that came with the RtR guidebook.  Unfortunately, the three maps did not agree with each other, nor did the actual trail, marked with white blazes on wood nailed to trees, always agreed with the maps.  The numbers designating different trails were also nailed to trees, which caused us a bit of consternation when we could not find the trail marked 001 because the marker had been inverted.

Even with the hindrance of different maps, inverted trail markers and muddy trails we hiked at well over one mph.  Yet after our first night on the trail a sobering realization came to me.  After a week of clear skies, a very light drizzle left us with a thin, brittle sheet of ice on our tent and on the ground.  What if instead we had been hit with a New England type ice storm?  We have hiked during snowstorms and over crusty, slippery snow, but never over a thick sheet of ice.  Under such conditions even one mph might be an unattainable pace.

Occasionally the RtR trail came onto a road.  During one such stretch we happened upon Mike Long, a forester out doing some yard work.  He invited us into his home where his wife Julia made us a lunch of soup and sandwiches.  While there Cindy sat on the floor and played with their three-year-old Amelia.  On occasion where we hiked Cindy would confess that she could not wait to have grandchildren.  Though Cindy’s brain health had been improving, I watched her play with Amelia with a bit of sadness from wondering what will be.

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The ADT Journey – Week 32

Posted on January 24, 2022 by admin

After our talk at the St. John UCC, Ky flew back home to be with family for almost a week while we continued on.  All our hosts through this St. Louis stretch lived far off the trail and Ky left her camper with parishioners of the St. Paul UCC in Oakville, a connection through her nephew who also went back East for a Byrne family reunion.  That left us with the puzzle of getting both ourselves and Ky’s van to rendezvous with her in Oakville on New Year’s Day.

We drove the van to our first hosts, Tom and Anna Sandidge, a Quaker connection that ultimately started with our stay at the Light Center.  Both Quakers, Tom came to that identity from a military background; Anna from the Assembly of God.  Anna taught social justice classes at St. Louis University (SLU), which of course meant I needed to interview her about humanitarian issues.

Anna informed me of two additional demographics in the food challenged category.  College graduates end up with so much debt that many need assistance with food. Surprising to me was that military families often fall in the food challenged category as well, with food pantries located near many military bases.  When you add these two demographics to the ones I discovered in Pueblo … baby boomers let go of work before retirement, grandparents and single fathers … you have the evidence for the middle class shrinking over recent decades.

Anna also provided enlightening details about two tent cities in the St. Louis area.  A tent city in the St. Louis area came into existence organically; homeless people found a place and a means to make the best of their living situation.  As a highly organized, rule-based society the tent city won over the support of officials, including police officers turned advocates for them.

The tent city became such a model of success that a well-intentioned activist for the homeless attempted to imitate their model with homeless people being “evicted” by bridge repair and construction.  Being formed top down by an outsider, rather than organically, could not emulate the order and docility of the original tent city, causing city officials to ban both of the tent cities, though they dragged their feet with dismantling the first one.  The top down approach deprived the new tent city residents of the ownership and responsibility shared by the residents of the first tent city.  When you think about it, my favorite quote from our journey, “confuse who is giving and who is receiving,” stems from this same principle.

Tom dropped us off in the western suburbs of St. Louis for our walk to the Gateway Arch, where Anna picked us up, took us out to dinner and brought us to their home again.  Our route to the Gateway Arch was the most scenic city walk of the journey.  We went by the campuses for both Washington University and SLU, as well as Forest Park, site of the 1904 St. Louis World Fair.  We stopped in briefly to see the free exhibits at the National History Museum at Forest Park.

Our destination came into view while still about a couple miles away, with glimpses of Gateway Arch darting in between and sometimes over tall buildings.   Adrenaline built up inside us as we drew nearer to the famous landmark.  While hiking through Kansas we passed the geographic halfway mark in Kinsley and the journey’s halfway point near Ottawa.  Neither gave us the feeling of transitioning from west to east like the towering man made arch, a feeling rivaled only by cresting the Front Range and first seeing the expansive plains ahead of us.  We now felt homeward bound!  This explains why the Gateway Arch became the most photographed object of our journey.

We “rinsed and repeated” our shuttle routine when we drove Ky’s van to the St. Paul UCC in Oakville the following morning.  Pastor Bruce met us there to drive us back to where we left off at the Gateway Arch.  He also picked us up at the end of the day, after we hiked through East St. Louis on the Illinois side of the Mississippi River.  Not since San Francisco and Oakland had we hiked through such a stark contrast in neighboring cities.

To my knowledge, East St. Louis has the worst reputation of any city along the ADT route, earned in part when an ADT thru-hiker called Lion King got mugged there.  However, we were walking through this area in the middle of the day during winter.  Despite entering an obviously depressed area once we entered Illinois, I had no apprehensions for our safety.

Even if I had apprehensions about East St. Louis they would have been dispelled quickly.  Soon after crossing Eads Bridge over the Mississippi River, we came upon Aintee’s Barbecue, located by the side of a convenience store, which consisted of a grill cut out of a 55 gallon drum, a pair of very long tongs and “Aintee ” herself.  “Aintee,” or Lisa, overcame a troubled background to put her heart and soul into her entrepreneurial barbecue business.  In the process she took care of a nephew and stepdaughter on her own.

While we chatted with “Aintee” the owner of the convenience store came out to give a disheveled man nearby a tool for picking up trash.  I soon learned of the synergy between these three people.  James was a homeless vet whose government check was not enough to keep him from sleeping underneath a bridge, but enough to be occasionally mugged.  Lisa outfitted her pick-up to both transport her barbecue and provide a safe haven for James.  The convenience store proprietor, impressed by Lisa’s entrepreneurial spirit and positivity, allowed her to run her barbecue business by the side of his store without cost.  In the land of diversity, Caucasion, African and Indian (subcontinent) Americans created a circle of support for each other.

As we headed south along the Mississippi River we transitioned from city streets to a state highway passing through an industrial area.  I took a photo of the factories, documenting our journey as always.  Within a minute a police car drove up to us and the officers got out to insist I delete the photo I just took.  When I queried why, the officers responded that the photo needed to be deleted for homeland security.  So as they looked over my shoulder and watched I deleted the photo I just took.  I did not delete any other photos that might have, um, also captured the factories along our route, many of which likely belonged to Monsanto..  Thankfully they did not confiscate my SD card.

Irony saturated this little photo incident.  The “natives” of East St. Louis and the neighboring area did not hassle us, just the police in Monsanto territory.  When I published “Systems out of Balance,” which contributed to my call for increased community involvement, I also faulted the way corporations disguise and/or distort information.  Monsanto was this country’s arch villain in this regard.  I had no idea which factories in my photos belong to Monsanto, since I am not a corporate spy.  Honest to God, I swear I am not.

Fortunately, we were not carrying guns.  I mentioned that the growing trend of carrying guns to protect oneself from hypothetical dangers reflects poorly on the increased apprehensions and even cowardice of the nation.  The ironic flip side is that carrying a gun in certain situations actually increases the hassles faced.  I guarantee we would have missed out on a few heartwarming stories like “Aintee’s Barbecue” along our way if we were packing, while the police likely would have done more than simply look over my shoulder as I deleted a photo.

From Oakville we drove the van north to the home of Debbie and Pat Syano in O’Fallon, Illinois, a significant distance away from our route, but worth the trip because Debbie also hiked the ADT west to east, though taking a couple of extended breaks.  Debbie used her journey to raise awareness and funds for building a library in Kenya, where she met her husband Pat.  She succeeded in raising $47,000 and the library was built.

On our first evening with Debbie she brought us over to her friends Bob and Susan Hoff, where we had dinner and watched Avatar.  I also learned about Susan’s initiative of providing a maternity home for women 18 years or older.  They provide both a safe haven in the present and educational tools for the future.

The next day of New Years Eve we were supposed to hike a stretch of the trail together, with Debbie and Pat dropping us off and meeting us later in the day.  That failed when I attempted to commit the map to memory but made a wrong turn that prevented us from meeting our host until near the end of the day.  Fortunately, we spent New Years Eve together, comparing photos of our ADT journeys past and present.  I enjoyed Pat’s reference to our forests as “jungles” and our deer as “gazelles.”  

We returned to Oakville on New Years day in time for a potluck luncheon at the St. Paul UCC.  We said our final goodbyes to Pastor Bruce and proceeded to spend the night with John and Carolyn Hicks.  John Hicks took charge of the Missions committee upon retirement and proved to be an innovative thinker and leader.  When an elderly woman lamented she could not go on a mission trip he suggested that making and freezing meals for the trip would make her as much a participant as anyone else.  The Hicks also stored Ky’s camper while she was gone and we united with her again that evening, though not for long.

We backpacked for the next two days.  We in fact spent our coldest night of the journey the next evening, when we guerilla camped in a forest depression near the Mississippi River.  One of my lingering apprehensions for Cindy was how she would deal with the cold of winter.  My research indicated the historical coldest temperature along our route, coinciding with the date when we would be at the same place was, ironically, near Santa Claus, Indiana.  That temperature was twenty-five below zero, but we spent no colder night than the low teens on January 3rd.  Cindy did just fine.

In fact, Cindy now could help me set up and take down the tent, something she could not do at the beginning.  The cold might have lent some urgency to her ability to learn, but this still represented encouraging progress for her.

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The ADT Journey – Week 31

Posted on January 16, 2022 by admin

The day after the potluck supper at the St. Paul UCC in Hermann, Jack and Pat Wendleton brought us back to where we left off on the Katy, treating us to breakfast at a trailside restaurant.  We hiked back to the McKittrick station, where the Wendletons invited us into their home for a delicious home cooked meal.  Pat had gone on some trail journeys, such as the Camino de Santiago Trail, with her husband Jack providing support.  No doubt our kindred interests played a role in their sustained kindness to us.

Pastor Jeanne Lischner of the Immanuel UCC in Holstein hosted  us next.  While we were there she took out maps to determine the UCC churches near our route in the upcoming states.  She also came out to hike with us when we left, bringing along her dog.

Pastor Jeanne shared the details of her church’s unique community meals program.  Though open to all, they provided luncheon meals specifically for a senior center, providing transportation to the meals and back.  They charged $3 for the meals, an affordable cost which still would be defeating for a soup kitchen, but not for a community meals program intended to increase social interaction for a demographic that is often neglected.

After Pastor Jeanne came the hosts with whom we would spend Christmas.  From our connection with Jeff Whitman, conference minister for the UCC in Missouri, we came in contact with Senior Pastor Paul Koch of the St. Peter UCC in Washington, MO.  He in turn connected us with his young associate pastor Leah Atkinson Bilinski.  Her and husband Jamie took us in for the two days that spanned Christmas Eve and Christmas.

Fortunate timing once again allowed us to participate in a community meals gathering called Harvest Table, held on Saturday evenings including Christmas Eve.  While at Harvest Table I interviewed the founder, Brigid Reid.  She led five other women through a long process of discernment to discover how they should act on their faith.  They decided on a community meals program but faced an obstacle; their own Catholic parish did not have the space.  That resulted in a partnership with the UCC and the use of their space.  In contrast to Grand Pass, where community meals rotated to different locations, different faith communities took turns hosting Harvest Table at St. Peter’s.

After the meal, Leah brought us to the church foyer where several Christmas trees stood, with stores of food piled like presents under them.  People and groups put up the trees as a competition, with parishioners putting food donations under the tree they like best.  This novel idea was one of the means by which they stocked their sizable food pantry.

We were asked to light the Advent Wreath candle at the Christmas Eve service, where I also sang in the choir.  One more time a choir director suggested I could stay there if I’d like.  I do not want to convey the impression that I have a voice like Josh Groban.  My coveted ability is being able to sight read choral music, a surprisingly rare trait among male choir members.  That allows me to become an anchor for choristers who do have voices like Josh Groban.

We gathered at the home of Elaine Menke and Kim Colter for Christmas dinner the next day.  The Colter family, including daughters Nora and Hannah, are involved in a locally organized program for mission work in Honduras. They hosted their extended family along with Leah, Jamie and three strangers from Connecticut for a bountiful meal and an atmosphere of holiday chatter and cheer.

After dinner, Leah and Jamie joined us to hike a four mile stretch along the Katy Trail as sunset approached.  That was followed by the opening of presents.  To our surprise, Ky collaborated with our previous host Jeanne to thoughtfully make neck warmers for Cindy and me.   We also spoke to our three kids over the phone at day’s end.

I was apprehensive about spending our first and only Christmas away from home, but I need not have been.  Both our hosts and the congregation as a whole took us in as one of their own.  We learned yet another novel community meals approach, as well as other innovative initiatives of kindness.  With all the trail angels we met on Fourth of July weekend, our gracious hosts on Labor Day and Halloween, Thanksgiving on the farm and now a Christmas of kindness and belonging, holidays were the highlights of our journey.

Our next stop provided me an opportunity to give back, in terms of sharing creative community building ideas.  We landed at a Comfort Suites, compliments of a parishioner at St. John UCC, where I gave a presentation that evening.  We first appeared to the clerk at the desk to be homeless people that the church was putting up in response to the wintry storm coming that night.  When I told her our real purpose her demeanor changed dramatically.  Most people probably know conceptually that people perceived to be homeless are treated differently; not many affluent people actually experience what that is like.

Pastor Ric Zuch became our host for the St. John UCC presentation, but was not the only pastor there.  Despite a wintry storm the day after Christmas the attendance included three other pastors who were “higher ups” within the UCC regional hierarchy.  As I faced these learned theologians scattered in the audience for my talk on kindness I felt similar to when I took the oral exams for my dissertation, also similar to when I presented to the country’s most vibrant Lions Club in Grand Junction, a feeling like I may be doing the talking but I am the student.

During the presentation one theologian brought up a penetrating question, pertinent not just for the presentation but for life in general.   Referencing the two great commandments and asked whether I thought loving God was the ticket for loving others, or whether loving others was the ticket for loving God.  I suspected the “right” answer for that audience was that loving God was needed for loving others but, well, I cannot tell a lie.

I bore witness from my various journeys that kindness to strangers and loving others were universal traits, not constrained by which God, if any, somebody worshipped.  To my relief, I apparently “passed my exam” with that answer, when the theologian responded with the passage in 1 John that asks how can we expect to love the intangible God if we are not able to love the tangible presence of others.  Make no mistake, my belief in humanity and our altruistic nature is fueled primarily by science, particularly the fields of ecology, ethnography and biochemistry, but now I added 1 John to my explanatory system as well.

Even more gratifying was the feedback from Pastor Ric that they would be making adjustments to their community meals offerings based on my testimony.  Though I included fine ideas gained recently from Kansas and Missouri, the most influential remained the approach in Leadville, Colorado to “confuse who is giving and who is receiving.”  After a Christmas of receiving kindness and inspiration, I felt like I now gave back.

I took a photo of Cindy sandwiched in between two of the theologians.  Looking back on that photo, I realize the significance of Cindy’s clearly enthusiastic smile among strangers.  Indeed, she was less intimidated by socializing with these esteemed attendees than I was speaking to them.  That was a sign of progress, a sign of health.

Certainly the overall weather did not generate Cindy’s light mood.  The Katy Trail brought us gloomy skies for the most part, accompanied by the shortest days of the year.  That also meant that every day for us would get longer now.  Considering our previous longest journey ended on December 21, the day this Christmas week began, every new day, week and month up until May would be one which never found us still on a long distance hike before.

Most importantly for Cindy’s smiles, we were steadily hiking again, no five day layover like in Kansas City, not even a complete rest day for Christmas.  We engaged in what fed our souls, and apparently Cindy’s brain health.  For even in gloomy weather we noticed the increasing height and grandeur of the limestone cliffs as we continued east along the Katy Trail, as well as the increasing width and grandeur of the Missouri River that occasionally popped into view.  We also noticed the little things like how gray skies had little effect on the chatty birds around us.  Cardinals in particular visually cut through the gray with their vibrant Christmas red.

Even more appropriate to the season were trailside vignettes of red berries and green leaves. The few days of clear mornings added sparkling landscapes, like the silvery tinsel on a Christmas tree.  Every day on the trail delivers a season of joy to those accustomed to look, or hear, or feel the natural good will around them.

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The ADT Journey – Week 30

Posted on January 10, 2022 by admin

The pastor of the UCC in Boonville, Julia Fiocco, and her husband Larry Jones hosted us at the start of this stretch.  While our presence midweek prevented us from attending a service, the Advent season found us participating in a candle lit ritual with our hosts.  While sitting in a circle, we shared our Wows (something good that happened), Pows (something bad) and Hows (how God affected our lives that day.  I do not recall the specifics of what we shared now, but I do recall a feeling of closeness resulting from the ritual.  Evidently Julia felt the same, at least with Cindy, as she commented before we left that she felt a warm glow in Cindy.

Julia’s affirmation of Cindy’s well-being came at an opportune time, as I had just received an email from our last hostess in Kansas City.  She surmised that Cindy had Alzheimer’s and chastised me for bringing her on this journey.  She even demanded that I should get an advocate for my wife, presumably to protect her from me.  Her chastisement shocked me.

I sent an email back with an indignant tone over the implication I was irresponsible with Cindy.  Since five doctors denied Cindy had Alzheimer’s before the journey, I echoed their denial and ironically claimed we would not be doing this if she had Alzheimer’s.  I instead countered we were addressing an anxiety disorder and the journey was working in that regard.

Julia’s counter claim that Cindy glowed also surprised me, but at least in a positive way.  Sure, Cindy showed progress, but any perceived “glow” was just Cindy being who she is, a warm and kind person, without even being fully recovered yet.  In any case, I dismissed the suggestion to get Cindy and advocate to care for her properly.

From Boonville we began our hike along the Katy Trail, a converted rail bed.  For much of the way we followed a level, gravel path that threaded between the Missouri River and neighboring limestone cliffs.  As we were now entering winter the leaves were off, providing scenic glimpses of the radiant cliffs, while blackbirds and cardinals fluttered around us.  In contrast, the Missouri River appeared gloomy, due in part to the often gloomy days that escorted us along the Katy Trail section.

As Ky slackpacked us along the Katy Trail we next stayed with John Hooker in Columbia, MO.  John is the son of my brother Ernie’s significant other, making him the first and only of our hosts during the journey with a family connection.  When not hiking we joined John and his girlfriend Staci in exploring the vibrant college town of Columbia.  

Staci has a hobby of carting her inherited red couch, known as the Divine Divan, to different places and taking pictures of people sitting on it.  John met Staci when she asked him to be a subject and he refused.  Now they both cart the divan around for photo ops, including one of us on the Katy Trail.

The Katy Trail passes near the Peace UCC in Hartsburg, which became our next base camp after John.  I gave a talk about kindness and community to the youth group and parents when we arrived.  Afterwards, Pastor Clairnel Nervik arranged for Ky to stay at the church while Cindy and I went home with Wendy Gustofson.  This turned out to be a great place to stay a week before Christmas, and not just because of the outdoor hot tub.

We first began experiencing Christmas along the American Discovery Trail in early November, with Christmas decorations along the streets of Great Bend, Kansas.  As we continued we witnessed more towns decorated for Christmas, along with attending the KristKindl Markt. Now in the Gustofson home we experienced the anticipation of Christmas by Wendy’s nine year old son, Daniel.  I particularly enjoyed looking on as Wendy helped Daniel read the letter he received from Santa.  This helped put us in the family mood for Christmas.

We learned two tales of kindness speaking to Pastor Clairnel.  One was how the congregation rallied around a homeless family transplanted from Michigan.  Within a week they had a home and the father a job.  If someone thinks this shows no excuses for homeless people they are missing the point; it took a whole congregation to help this family out of homelessness.  The Peace UCC and Hartsburg benefited from kindness as well, being located too near the Missouri River during a flood.  We heard similar rescue efforts occurred for Hartsburg flooding as with the Holly and Wellington tornadoes.

The Katy Trail greeted us with an uptick in coverage, with one article in print media and two radio spots.  Wendy contributed to this further by reaching out to a former work connection at CBS.  The day after the local CBS station interviewed us, we chanced to see the interview in an unexpected way.  

We left the Gustofson home full packing along the Katy Trail to the Turner Katy Trail Shelter in Tebbetts.  A woman bequeathed the shelter to Missouri’s Department of Conservation for the express purpose of being a low expense hostel for Katy Trail travelers.  The hostel was closed for the season but still accessible to two hikers crazy enough to be hiking during winter.  Our contact for an upcoming presentation at the St. Paul UCC in Hermann, Jack Wendleton, came out early to meet us and bring us to a local tavern for dinner.  We were just leaving the tavern when the proprietor rushed out to tell us we were on TV.

In looking back on that television interview now I could see how dedicated I came across to the message of kindness and community.  I could see why a person might get the impression that my dedication to the cause made me oblivious to what was going on with Cindy.  That was not true, but I understand any false impression.  Fortunately, the folks at the bar just offered us a drink instead.

The next day we arrived at the McKittricks stop for the rail trail, where we stayed at “Joey’s Bird House,” a quaint little cottage just recently set up for Katy Trail tourism.  The Katy Trail rail bed traversed private properties via right of way, and were embraced by locals in general because of the revenue brought in by the rail trail.  That was not always the case.  Local landowners were vociferously opposed to this “taking” before the value for generating revenue became evident.

Ky got to experience what that resentment must have been like.  As we hiked on roads in northeast Kansas, Ky explored a portion of rail bed that was destined to become a rail trail and part of the ADT.  An angry landowner chased her away.  I can only wonder if ten years later the folks from Kansas have softened to the idea as much as the folks from Missouri.

Our stay at the Bird House was comped to us, in consideration of the presentation I gave during a potluck supper at the St. Paul UCC in Hermann.  Jack once again met us and became our chauffeur to the presentation.  He also had a friend help out with a little camper repair for Ky. We were far from home, but the spirit of Christmas still found us.

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Year 2021 Recap

Posted on January 3, 2022 by admin

Last June I started weekly reviews of what happened ten years ago, when Cindy and I walked across the country.  With Cindy going on her third year of hospice there was little new going on in the present, while the journey needed retelling with an open inclusion of what was going on with Cindy at the time.  Here is a recap of what has been happening in the present over the past seven months.

Little has changed with Cindy.  On the plus side her appetite, skin condition and oxygen levels continue to be excellent.  On the negative side she continues to experience minor seizures at about the same, almost monthly rate.

The two further declines since June have been increased incidences of wheezing and coughing fits.  Some type of stress causes the wheezing, while an excess of drool pooling in the wrong places causes the coughing fits.  The fits only last for about a minute or two, but that was enough to cause the hospice volunteer to stop visiting.  She was afraid Cindy might pass away during her watch, but that was four months ago now.

At the start of last year I resolved to find more coverage, in order to work on more projects, in order to preserve my brain health and maintain my role as a caregiver.  During the spring I took the steps for that to happen, during the summer it did happen, but during the fall “the best laid plans” fell apart.  I, in fact, had less coverage in the fall than I did a year ago.

Still, I have been able to move along with the symphony I composed about our walk across the country that I am currently retelling.  In the summer I gave a concert with my live guitar and sythesized music to the neighborhood from our porch; in the fall I gave one at the church; both as preparation for this coming May 24, tenth anniversary of when we finished that journey.  The church performance left some members of the audience in tears.

The Yale Summer School of Music will premier the symphony on the 24th, but this is before the music school officially opens.  I recently found a conductor for that performance; I now have to compile the live orchestra, hopefully by February.  When I know for certain whether I will be performing at Yale with a live orchestra or with synthesized music, and if covid allows the concert to be performed at all, I will announce the ticket sales.

For the coming year I anticipate Cindy’s condition to remain steady.  The mornings of holding her in my lap, the days of “dancing” with her and reliving our ADT journey, and the evenings of kissing her good night, should help continue her will to live throughout the year, despite being fully incapacitated and bedridden.  We experimented with driving Cindy to our daughter Charissa’s place last summer and we may do more of those types of field trips this coming summer.

I anticipate coverage will pick up for me again on a more permanent basis.  I have one person committed to Sundays and has been very reliable so far.  Promise for some evening coverage each week looms around the corner as well.  I hope to do what I planned for last year, expand the projects I am working on for the sake of my well-being.  I also hope, covid willing, to get out and socialize more, perhaps embark on some common hobbies with others, particularly hiking.

Our cats will be gone this coming year, going back to their original owner, our daughter Charissa.  She got them as kittens while we were walking across the country, now going on eleven years ago.  Charissa left them here as therapy for her Mom, but while Cindy has been in hospice care the living room has become our bedroom, with the cats kept outside a gate.  Since then the cats have been relatively deprived of the attention they crave (yes, these cats are like dogs); our granddaughter Lyla should remedy that problem once they arrive at their new home. (Photo below is over 5 years old).

That catches you up to the present here in the Icebox.  May your New Years be filled with hope as well.  Now back to our regular programming, the weekly reports on the ADT journey ten years ago.

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The ADT Journey – Week 29

Posted on December 31, 2021 by admin

As soon as we entered Missouri the terrain felt more like back home.  The hills became a little more rolling, the riverbanks a little more chiseled and the trees thick enough to be called a forest.  No one would mistake this for the steep hills and thick forests of New England, yet we immediately felt like “we are not in Kansas anymore.”

Our first stretch brought us through an urban corridor from Kansas City to Independence, Missouri.  We encountered the most litter we had seen, including larger items such as a discarded toilet.  We also encountered a variety of churches of all kinds, large and small, with the grandest being the corkscrew spire that marked where the Mormon church had split in its westward advance.  A Mormon branch known as the Community of Christ remained in Independence spread to the surroundings.

A former minister for the Community of Christ Church, Johnny Stabno, was now a District Governor for the Missouri Lions Clubs.  He met us in Independence and walked with us for a few miles, giving me the chance to chat with him as I did with other Lions Club members along the way.  This kept a streak going of interviewing or presenting to a Lions Club of every state we passed through.

Our conversation went beyond business and engaged Cindy as well.  In contrast to her quiet time with the Quicks, and to our own lack of communication while hiking, Cindy turned into “Gabby Galvin” for a couple miles.  The topic had turned to pets, something that enthused Cindy.  To my amazement, she could recall the names of pets we met along the way even though I could not.

After leaving the urban corridor the route continued to follow paved roads, often along railroad tracks, occasionally coming within sight of the Missouri River.  The ADT through the plains of eastern Colorado and western Kansas roughly followed the historical Santa Fe Trail; now we roughly followed the historical Lewis and Clark Trail.  Our growing list of roadkill spotted extended to domesticated species, including one that reminded me of Bill the Cat from the Bloom County cartoons.  This gave me the idea of creating a roadkill calendar someday.

 As churches increasingly became our hosts throughout the middle of the country, the targets of interviews and presentations followed.  In Missouri all but a handful of stops would be affiliated with churches, thanks in large part to meeting the Missouri UCC conference minister at the KristKindl Markt.  First up for us was the Ebenezer UCC church in Levasy.

Steve Redman, the pastor and our host, was also the director of emergency relief operations of the UCC in Missouri and parts of other states.  He shared the eye opening insight that in our country the response to disaster relief can be too kind.  When a tornado or similar disaster first hits the focus is on rescue and recovery of people.  Many donations of goods cannot be immediately used or processed.  Some, like broken toys, should not have been sent in the first place while perishables indeed perish before they can be used.  Too many donations also interfere with building back, as they take away potential income from the local merchants wishing to reestablish.

This explains the need for the position Steve held, coordinating the different relief efforts from afar to prevent such problems.  Meanwhile, we came across another example of the towns and organizations closest to the disaster providing the fastest and most needed assistance.  While stopping for a lunch break at Nana Marie’s Diner in Wellington we learned that their response to a tornado was much like the response of Holly, Colorado that we learned about earlier.  The proprietors also comped us a couple of chicken sandwiches in their retro fifties establishment.

When we reached Wellington, Ky transported us to the Arnoldi farm, our next base camp for slackpacking.  Our connection that brought us here was through Sharon Arnoldi’s involvement with the Light Center, though she was away at a horse show.  Bob Arnoldi welcomed us with open arms instead.

Even without the matriarch present the Arnoldi residence was bustling with adults, pets and a toddler.  They appeared to have a barter arrangement with a neighbor who came regularly to cook suppers and then share in the bounty.  I say appears, because everyone enjoyed each other’s company so thoroughly that likely no barter agreement was needed to continue the arrangement.

Staying with the Arnoldi family reminded me of home.  The Appalachian Trail crossed the route between where I used to work and where I still live.  If I spotted what must surely be a long distance hiker I stopped to offer them our hospitality overnight.  Our kids got so used to this they considered relative strangers joining us for meals to be normal social behavior, at least for us.  Since such hospitality unfailingly thrills long distance hikers, welcoming such guests generally resulted in a festive climate, the same type of climate we experienced at the Arnoldi residence.

Yet our grandest base camp this week occurred at Grand Pass, where we stayed once again at a UCC church, while Ky continued to slackpack us.  Christy Windmeyer, a church parishioner and neighbor, brought us over several meals, as well as invited us into her home for breakfast on the final morning of our stay.  We kept in touch for a few years afterwards, though I have not heard from her in awhile.  During these covid times I wonder about folks and hope to visit them again sometime.

The Grand Pass UCC participated in a different kind of alliance than the ones we witnessed in Kansas.  They partnered with UCCs in neighboring towns to rotate the location of community meals on Tuesday evenings.  As luck would have it, we were at the right place at the right time in the rotation.  Ky took an active role in preparing the community meal, showing herself to be perfectly at home in that role.

Near the end of this stretch a motorist pulled over to find out what we were doing and, in the process, asked if I was hiking with my daughter.  As my hair gets longer I look older, while Cindy by now looked fully rejuvenated from our Kansas City layover.  Both of us were itching to start hiking again by the end of the five rest days, a sign that we were meant to be long distance hikers.  The rejuvenation might also explain why Cindy chatted more on this stretch.

Cindy’s progress was heartwarming to witness, and fortuitous in light of an email I was soon to receive.

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The ADT Journey – Week 28

Posted on December 26, 2021 by admin

Back when we first entered Kansas, Gretchen Davis sent us an itinerary of speaking engagements and people hosting us for the days we would spend around Kansas City.  We met Gretchen and her husband Ardie in Frisco, Colorado because of a detour we took after meeting Andy Held; because we met Gretchen, Ky found a repair shop for her car, we stayed with the Nelsons in Lawrence and spent Thanksgiving on the Talberts farm.  The itinerary in our hands revealed we were about to meet a whole bunch more people, more bittersweet memories of bonding with people before moving on.

Because of all the planned activities for us we had to arrive at Kansas City ahead of our original schedule.  We had the whole state of Kansas road walking to gain miles, but then illness led to two rest days as we neared our destination.  Fortunately, with Ky providing support we could arrive in time and still be brought to slack pack the remaining miles to the Missouri border during our stay.

Our first full day in Kansas City started with a presentation at the elementary school where Gretchen used to teach.  I was more nervous about presenting to this children audience for the first time than with any other.  Between college, church and community organizations I needed to tweak the community involvement message only a little.  Relating to children requires a whole different approach.  My nervousness amused Cindy, pointing out the irony that someone who so often acted like a kid should be nervous about speaking to them.  With the aid of a few gag photos I thought the presentation went well.

I gave a community presentation that evening at a town hall building.  Mostly friends of Ardie and Gretchen attended.  The way that Leadville “confused who is giving and who is receiving” inspired one man, who came up to me afterwards to share that he would structure his community’s food outreach differently now.  I do not know if he followed up, but effecting positive change for communities is my greatest hope for these presentations.

Gretchen’s friend Lorene Miller hosted us for the first couple of nights.  While in her care she brought us to her church’s KristKindl Markt, which is like an Oktoberfest for Advent.  The UCC formed from the union of four denominations.  The churches in our native New England were Congregational in origin, throughout the heartland the UCC churches hailed from a German Reformed Church background, as evident in the KristKindl Markt.

At times I wondered if my Congregational upbringing at least partly accounted for my concern for community involvement.  As the title implies, Congregational governance is polar opposite to Catholicism, as grassroots congregations determine their own theology.  Congregationalists were, in fact, the initial cause for public education in this country, so that each person could read and interpret the Bible for themselves.  The Congregational Church was the first denomination to have women and black pastors.  On the other hand, they were also the denomination of Jonathan Edwards and witch burnings.

The KristKindl Markt included a cafeteria and dining hall with carolers for entertainment.  One room featured a craft fair where we were given a table because of a last minute cancellation.  Several rooms provided the opportunity to make crafts, including one devoted to making gingerbread houses.

The gingerbread craft room gained Cindy’s particular attention.  One Christmas tradition for Cindy was making elaborate gingerbread house landscapes with our daughters, the kind that could be a showstopper on The Great British Baking Show.  Other Cindy traditions were making coffee liqueur from scratch and hosting a big Christmas Eve party for our extended family.

The tradition that made Cindy somewhat of a local hero was baking her famous cinnamon and maple walnut breads as gifts for family, friends, neighbors and coworkers.  The list of breads to bake for the holiday got up as high as ninety-six.  While she had the easy part of baking all those breads, I tackled the hard part of driving around town to deliver them on the day before Christmas, frequently invited in for Christmas cookies and hot chocolate along the way.

While at the KristKindl Markt we were introduced to Jeff Whitman, conference minister for the UCC in Missouri.  He encouraged us to use him as a reference for UCC churches along our route in his state, which I did.  We got enough responses  for churches to host us until we got to Illinois, one more link in the long serendipitous chain that started when we met Andy Held.

Lorene handed us off to Phil and Heather Gudgel to host us after KristKindl Markt, who in turn handed us off to Brian and Christy Watson, the next day.  Brian was a teacher at the elementary school where I presented on the first day; Christy was the Congregational Care Director for Rolling Hills Presbyterian church, where I gave my next presentation.  Her duties as Director included helping people adjust to new situations such as assisted living or connecting members with resources they need.

Rolling Hills Presbyterian has about 350 people attending two morning services; their Christmas and Easter collections raise as much as $25,000 for charitable causes such as Cornerstones to Care, a program for young people that age out of foster care.  Both the Gudgels and Watsons assist with the church’s youth group, going on work camp trips to places hit by tornadoes and other hardships.  The youth also get involved in Project Uplift, which provides warm meals, blankets and other forms of assistance to the homeless.

My last presentation was at Prairie View Presbyterian, as one of the programs they held after their weekly community meals on Wednesday evenings. PVP is a large church, with up to 1300 people attending four services on a Sunday. You can imagine, then, that they are involved in large projects. Their food pantry runs almost like a grocery store, serving 1,000 a month with 300 volunteers from the church staffing the store. Something that struck me was one of the sources of their funding. Many of the volunteers are elderly, looking to keep busy later in life. Since the food pantry has been in operation for many years, it has been remembered in the wills of some of these volunteers.

We were hosted our last three days by John and Patty Quick, friends of the Watsons.  All together we spent five rest days and two days of slack packing to the Missouri border while in Kansas City.  “Rest days” became a misnomer for me, considering all the activities of giving presentations, interviewing people, creating blog posts, curating photos, making new contacts for our journey ahead and shuffling between hosts.  In fact, I felt I could not spend enough time with our hosts or even with Cindy.

Fortunately, Ky admirably compensated for my dearth of interaction with our hosts.  Cindy also spent more time with them.  Once upon a time, during her “Gabby Galvin” days, she would have quickly and warmly endeared herself to whomever was hosting her.  Now she was mainly quiet around our Kansas City hosts, once again due to the insecurities of a cognitive decline, aggravated perhaps by all the activities and switching of hosts.  She was particularly quiet by the time we reached the Quicks, which led to an interesting email exchange a couple weeks later.

Gretchen and Ardie came to my final presentation at PVP, as well as took us out for some Kansas City barbecue on our last evening spent in town, forming the appropriate bookends to our entire experience.  Saying goodbye to our “booking agents” was particularly difficult, but their influence on our journey was not over.  The chain of events that actually started with meeting Andy Held in Colorado Would not end until we reached Marion, Illinois.

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The ADT Journey – Week 27

Posted on December 17, 2021 by admin

For the long distance hikes lasting that long, Thanksgiving always treated me spectacularly.

In 1977 few people had yet to hike the Pacific Crest Trail, with our group of four being among the first one hundred.  The number finishing at the southern border was much fewer still, making our arrival at Campo newsworthy to the San Diego Union  reporters who met us there the morning before Thanksgiving.  The story was picked up by the AP and other major outlets.  The publicity combined with some hikers we met from the area along the way resulted in a Thanksgiving not to be forgotten.

We attended a bountiful Thanksgiving party for graduate students of the Scripps Institute of Oceanography, where we became the guests of honor.  Hikers we met during the journey took us to a Mexican Restaurant, the San Diego Zoo and Disneyland.  Our Disneyland host was part of a long distance trio we encountered several times, known as Dana, Mark and Kyle back before trail names became popular.  Our host Dana treated us like celebrities because the trial thought we were the only ones who actually hiked the whole trail in 1977, a troublesome year for snow.

Our good fortune was such that, as we went out to buy copies of the San Diego Union on Thanksgiving morning, an SDU delivery driver pulled over his truck when he spotted us.  He looked at the paper, then at us, then at the paper again, then asked:  “Are you these guys!”  When we said yes he gave us a bunch of free copies out of the truck.

By 1985 even fewer people had yet to hike the Continental Divide Trail.  We in fact were exploring possible routes for the Continental Divide Trail Society, with our larger group of thirteen sometimes dividing into as many as four subgroups.  The seven of us who hiked the entire trail doubled the previous number of thru-hikers, at least according to the CDTS Director, Jim Wolf.  Cindy became the first woman to thru-hike the CDT, while I became the first person to achieve both the Triple Crown (AT, PCT and CDT) and a Hat Trick (AT in ‘75, ‘80 and ‘83).

Since we were early scouts of the CDT, I wrote ahead of time to postmasters to discover the best places to resupply through post office drops.  Pie Town, New Mexico replied by inquiring what our group wanted for Thanksgiving dinner.  The town of 50 people put us up in a former elementary school turned community center, with virtually everyone in town bringing something delicious to the gathering.  We lingered for a few days, spending time in various people’s homes.  To this day I still rank Pie Town as the most charitable of all our town stops.

Thanksgiving looked to be in doubt for us on the ADT with Ottawa canceling their community meal that year.  Fortunately, because we met Andy Held at Copper Mountain in Colorado we ended up in Frisco; because we met Ardie and Gretchen Davis in Frisco we had places to stay in Kansas City for a few days while I gave presentations about kindness and community; because of our extended stop in Kansas City, Ky arranged for her car to be repaired by someone recommended by our hosts; because Ky had been in contact with the repair shop the owner wanted to know what we were doing for Thanksgiving.  He suggested we contact one of his employees who lived near our route.  That is how we ended up spending Thanksgiving on the Talbert farm.

Thanksgiving on the farm!  During the summers of my college years I worked on farms but never spent Thanksgiving on one.  My favorite job on the farm was haying and I got to work up an appetite by helping the Talberts load up 75 bales of hay for one of their guests.  I occasionally see social media posts boasting about how hard haying was, but you should not be taken in by that.  At least in the “old days,” haying meant the social benefits of working together with a team, and the health benefits of exercise and being outdoors.  I loved haying!

All of the extended family came to the farm from Missouri, where our hosts formerly lived before their house burned down.  That allowed us to arrive at the farm before and leave after anyone else.  During that time I chatted with our hosts David and Arlene about their noted reputation for kindness.

In addition to hosting complete strangers for Thanksgiving, the Talberts often hosted large community gatherings at their place.  Their own experience of their home burning down led them to assist with programs like the Red Cross and Harvesters to distribute funds and food to people who suddenly found themselves in need.  They echoed the philosophy we encountered in Leadville, that people in need rather be helped in the context of community rather than through anonymous donations.

I have two rules of thumb about hiking with injuries or illnesses:  do not hike with a limp and do not hike with a fever.  Walk slower, shorten your gait and/or lessen your load as need be to prevent limping.  By such means I have witnessed someone hike the entire Appalachian Trail while starting out with a torn ligament.  I have managed long distances while overcoming sprains and tendonitis.  Yet if you limp even with something as minor as blisters the change in your body mechanics can snowball into further injuries.

As for illnesses, I managed to continue hiking through a variety of intestinal and respiratory illnesses, including the flu and likely giardia.  Continued walking and mild exercise provides therapeutic benefits except when one has a fever.  Increasing an already raised body temperature will aggravate and prolong recuperation, I imagine tragically for someone foolishly determined enough.

In obedience to these rules we took two rest days during the week following Thanksgiving.  First I had a fever as we hiked north towards Lawrence, then Cindy caught what I had as we hiked east towards Kansas City.  Fortunately, we had places to stay indoors both times.

We spent my convalescence at the Light Center which serves as both a retreat and commune.  The Love Light retreat supports family disadvantaged children and grandmothers in Africa, offering seminars about their way of life and providing direct assistance for whatever is needed.  The commune now forming on the property consists so far of three adults and four children, all committed to “heart centered living.”

We were able to spend Cindy’s convalescence at Tall Oaks Christian Camp, the third church camp in Kansas to house us.  The director of the camp, Sharon Bracken, had just returned from serving with Micah Ministries, a combined ecumenical and civic effort to help the needy in Kansas City, taking their inspiration from Micah 6:8:  “He has shown you what is good; so what does the Lord require of you, but to do justice, to love kindness and to walk humbly with your God.”  Since this was the off-season for church camps we mostly had the places to ourselves.

In between the Light Center and Tall Oaks we stayed with Reid and Heather Nelson in Lawrence.  Reid is a criminal lawyer and Heather a public defender.  They provided us some insight in regards to the Westboro Baptist Church, the group that shows up to public events making incendiary comments.  Turns out they want to be thrown out of these events, enabling them to subsequently sue over First Amendment rights.  In other words, their seemingly faith based motives are really a money making con.

We were connected to the Nelsons by, who else, Ardie and Gretchen.  The Nelsons brought us to the University of Kansas where I gave a presentation for the Ecumenical Campus Ministries there … except ECM forgot to advertise for the event.  Indeed, they forgot about the event entirely and a bewildered custodian had to open up the venue for us.  The Nelsons were our only audience, but at least Reid enjoyed the talk.  He later posted on my blog:

“After you left Lawrence, it occurred to me that maybe you are part of an ancient oral tradition, bringing news and ideas on foot.  There is something about this combination of exercise and sharing of ideas that is very appealing to me.”

During this stretch Cindy acquired a sun blister on her finger, an affliction that occurred to her on past journeys.  As both a nurse and one who suffered with these blisters on past journeys, Cindy knew what needed to be done.  When Ky attempted to offer some motherly type advice for healing the sun blister Cindy snapped at her.

Cindy may have snapped partly because a cold was already brewing inside her by this time, but I knew her cognitive decline had something to do with her reaction as well.  A few months before the journey started, Cindy was let go from her job as a visiting nurse, with certification and particular expertise in wound ostomy.  She considered a “lay person” telling her how to treat a wound as a painful reminder of the consequences of her decline.

By now in the journey Ky must have realized that her initial “Thelma and Louise” hopes of bonding with Cindy were not going to be realized, but I imagine the scolding she received still must have stung, considering that Cindy never snapped when I gave her advice.  In that frightened, insecure mind over her cognitive decline I was becoming the beacon Cindy relied on, even in matters where her expertise surpassed mine, but advice from others was a perceived threat to her failing autonomy.  On a shopping errand with Ky, while Cindy rested with her fever, I tried to sympathize with Ky and have her understand what was happening.

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The ADT Journey – Week 26

Posted on December 10, 2021 by admin

From our perspective Kansas can be divided in halves with McPherson serving as the point of delineation.  Flat plains, sparse natural vegetation and frequent cloudless skies characterized southwest Kansas; “rolling hills,” some natural vegetation and cloudy skies outnumbering cloudless skies greeted us in the northeast.  I placed “rolling hills” in parentheses to emphasize the description as a matter of perspective.  From my perspective as a New England native I did not notice rolling hills, but according to the “Flint Hills” billboard we spotted along our route they apparently were there.

In addition to natural vegetation we encountered some natural wildlife in the Maxwell Wildlife Refuge, namely elk and bison.  A sign near the entrance warned people to stay in their vehicles.  While hiking thousands of miles over wilderness I apprehended the potential dangers of bears and poisonous snakes, but this was the first time we kept an eye out for potentially stampeding ungulates.

Our most interesting wildlife encounter, or at least the most intimate, came the night before we entered the preserve and the day after we left McPherson.  We set up our tents near an outhouse for the McPherson State Fishing Lake.  The campground was deserted by humans, but not by the coyotes, geese and woodpeckers that noisily announced their presence.  We also met one annoyingly persistent raccoon.

Here is the original account of my encounter with Rocky Raccoon.

I forgot to mention that during the previous week we twice stayed at the homes of trail angels.  A UMC pastor hooked us up with Karen and Tony, who provided their RV for our guest lodging.  They were concerned about us hiking during hunting season and bought us, including Ky, orange vests to wear.  This week was a good time to put them to use as we encountered a group (flock? coven? herd? gaggle?) of hunters along our route.

As usual throughout the plains we most often encountered domesticated animals.  Our tendency to chat with anyone we met along the way extended towards these four-footed acquaintances.  To horses or cows I would ask how they were doing.  Horses often came running over in a way that I pretended meant they wanted to socialize, but probably meant they hoped for an apple.  The cows just returned a ponderous gaze, as if measuring their thoughts and words precisely before replying, though they never did.

One photo of Cindy sitting on the leeward side of a hay bale reminds me of a special moment during this stretch.  She still was not the “Gabby Galvin” of old, but she was talking a little more as we hiked.  Shortly before we stopped by the hay bale Cindy blurted out:  “I feel myself getting better!”

Some of our old dynamic was returning.  During another break I took a picture of her with Cheez-its dust all over her face, with the obnoxious intention of posting the photo for all to see.  This was another good sign as our normal relationship contained a playful element, at least from my perspective, perhaps Cindy might suggest childish for me instead.

We were eminently ecumenical in our church lodgings across the country.  Our itinerary of town stops this week included stays at the First Baptist Church in Durham, the United Methodist Church in Herrington and several nights at a United Church of Christ camp in Council Grove.  Fitting to this ecumenical theme, we spent the final night of this week in the home of Gwen Crane, secretary for the UMC in Osage City, who filled us in about the ministerial alliance called ECAT, the Ecumenical Christian Action Team.  Like the Helping Hands Ministry in Larned, ECAT bands together to assist those in need from Osage City.

Both ECAT and Helping Hands contradict in some measure the fire and brimstone sermon we heard at the UCC church service we attended in Council Grove. The “believe in humanity” message in presentations I delivered across the country derives from the second great commandment of “love the neighbor.”  “Fire and brimstone” sermons focus on the first commandment of “love God.”

Christianity champions both commandments, but the relative importance of each differs between denominations and congregations.  1 John 4 challenges us to love others and essentially “believe in humanity” first, as does the first three Gospels, but the historical account of King David and some other parts of the Bible undermines this message.  Writing now with hindsight, this conflicted tension in theology repeatedly comes up along our journey. Stay tuned.

Council Grove provided us with more fuel for “believing in humanity.”  A sheriff once again stopped us as we hiked into town but, in contrast to our approach to Larned, this time passing motorists were concerned for us rather than about us.  With midday temperatures in the thirties the sheriff asked if we were warm enough and if we had a place to stay that evening.  We told him about our church camp destination and about our invitation to eat at the historic Hays House that evening, as guests of Don Peterson, an extremely spry octogenarian.  The inspirational kindness of Council Grove was capped by interviewing the church camp director, Sara Shaw, who overcame brain trauma from a car accident to dedicate her life to serving youth.

In keeping with the public mission of our hike we had hoped to attend an annual community Thanksgiving meal in Ottawa, but learned this week that the town had stopped the event that year.  Fortunately, the serendipitous arc that began when we met Andy Held at the Copper Mountain resort in Colorado was about to come to our rescue.

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The ADT Journey – Week 25

Posted on December 3, 2021 by admin

We entered Kansas from the southwest corner and would be departing through Kansas City, near the northeast corner.  Since much of Kansas originally was partitioned into square tracts of farmland, this meant a zigzag pattern of hiking east and north across the state.  From Dodge City to Larned we hiked north, perpendicular to the prevailing winds, this week we hiked east to McPherson.

As we now hiked mainly with the wind this was a much easier stretch.  It could be that 40+ mph winds were infrequent and we were just “lucky” during our time in western Kansas, but after a week of hiking crosswinds I gained a healthy respect for the great majority of thru-hikers who follow the ADT guide as published, from east to west.  Personally, I never would attempt bicycling the Kansas ADT in that direction.

We spotted puddles along the road during this stretch, something we ironically had not seen since leaving the desert. Southwest  Kansas was going through a drought until we came along.  They had only 5 inches of rain through the first nine months of that year, culminating in the dust storm on the first night of our arrival.  Over the past two weeks they received 2-3 inches more.  That’s us, the rainmakers!

In Great Bend we stayed at the First United Methodist Church, during their evening for choir rehearsal.  Since I can sight read music I was allowed to join in as they practiced for both the upcoming service and the more difficult Christmas music.  They placed me in the tenor section with three generations of the Webster family, who really did not need my help but I appreciated the opportunity to join in.

During the rehearsal Cindy conversed with Sarah Shire, wife of Brad the organist.  After rehearsal Brad came up to Cindy to salute us for what we were doing and placed a bill in her hand, a la John Nicholas.  He moved on before Cindy could react or fully comprehend what he did, but the bill she discovered in her hand was of a quite large denomination.

We slack packed out of Great Bend, then Ky picked us up and brought us back at the end of the day.  Pastor Stan Crawford of the UCC in Great Bend wanted a turn with us, bringing us to a Mexican restaurant with his family and then putting us up in a motel for the night.  During our dinner conversation Stan revealed that folks told him they saw an old man and a young blonde hiking into town together.  I am only six years older than Cindy, but that would not be the last time on the journey people implied how much older I looked.

While in Great Bend, journalist Karen La Pierre interviewed us for the Great Bend Tribune.  A couple of days later she sent me an email confessing she dreaded receiving the assignment of yet more cross country sojourners passing through town.  Cynical in regards to the deceptions or gimmicks of these sojourners, she claimed to be out of the office and got the “short straw” for our assignment.  Karen sent the email to reveal we pleasantly surprised her as being genuine in our purpose and pursuit, becoming the second Kansan in less than two weeks to express relief at how we stood out from a crowd of long distance travelers through the state.

Our next town stop featured the Lions Club of Lyons, who responded enthusiastically to my speaking engagement inquiry.  Our hosts Anita and Charlie Wedel kept in contact with us during the journey; Anita even came out to greet us hiking before we reached the town.  Soon after we arrived at the venue where the Club hosted a well attended and stocked potluck for us.

During our journey I adapted and changed my presentations to accommodate our ongoing experience.  Ever since witnessing a certain “news” station that specializes in stoking anger and apprehension make it seem that unions incredulously have greater political clout than corporations, I had been brooding over the cultivated perception in our society that people only want to work when necessary.  This is one of the misinformation pillars used to erode our beliefs in ourselves; believing in humanity becomes difficult if we perceive ourselves as lazy.  I interjected this grave concern of mine into my presentation.

I hit a nerve with the audience.  In short, the purchasing power of Walmart undermined the wages and viability of a major industry for that area.  This contributed to the region being depressed, as many rural regions across the country were in 2011.  The marvel to me was how, when their own personal experiences were telling them corporate greed was a problem, the heartland’s favorite “news” station so easily manipulated them with emotion into thinking labor was the problem instead.

When we arrived at McPherson, Pastor Connie Lunn of the First UCC invited me to deliver the sermon, which I based on the second commandment, love thy neighbor.  She also provided leads for us further along, including a connection that would lead us to stay at a few church camps in Kansas.  We also stayed at the church for a couple nights while Ky slack packed us.

We spent much of our time in McPherson with Annette Karr, learning of her Wink Ministries and visiting her home for supper one evening.  The ministry resulted from Annette’s children’s book about her one-eyed rescue poodle.  Wink loves people just as well as any other dog, and does not discriminate in her love.  During an early book tour the significance of this message hit home when Annette witnessed the joy of a little girl with one arm petting Wink.  Now Wink tours places with disabled children while Annette “goes along for the ride.”

Despite all the momentous events in towns, the most spectacular experience occurred as we hiked through the Cheyenne Bottoms National Wildlife Area, the major migratory flyway stop in the midst of our continent.  Arriving at Cheyenne Bottoms in November was the most blessed of our coincidental timings during the journey, as over 600,000 total of geese, ducks, herons, sandpipers, pelicans and other migratory birds dropped by the marshy wildlife area at the same time as us.  Not knowing about this spectacle until we arrived added to the awe inspired in us.

In addition to capturing the spectacle in photos, I recorded the sounds of hundreds of thousands of birds gathered together.  I also recorded Cindy’s reaction to the spectacle, a reaction of pure joy.  The end of the fourth movement for the American Discovery symphony features that recording of Cindy’s joy.  This reminder of the sound of Cindy, because of its singularity, is more precious than all the photos I ever took of her, a sound I now get to here several times a week as Cindy lies completely nonverbal and incapacitated in her bed.

We often are unaware of the magnitude of an experience until long afterwards.

Posted in Alzheimer's Love Story, American Discovery Trail, Believe in Humanity, Embrace Joy, Humanitarian Issues, Love Kindness | Tagged , , , , , | 3 Comments