The ADT Journey – Week 27

Posted on December 17, 2021 by Humanity Hiker

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 Humanity Hiker

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 Humanity Hiker

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.

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The ADT Journey – Week 24

Posted on November 29, 2021 by Humanity Hiker

The week started with a rest day in Cimarron to wait out a snowstorm.  We stayed at the Cimarron Hotel, the same place where the original team that mapped out the ADT stayed to also wait out a wintry storm.  Such historical figures as Wyatt Earp and Doc Holiday stayed there as well.

The “hotel” was in name only, with no hotel staff or reception area.  We landed there because our Garden City hosts called ahead to their friend and “hotel” owner Kathleen Holt to welcome us in.  We only managed to speak to Kathleen by phone, who shared a story about the ADT mapping team playing Taboo near the Christmas holidays, otherwise the other guests of the “hotel” were temporary renters and other people Kathleen was helping out.

After sharing the same hotel space as the legendary Wyatt Earp, our next stop was the legendary Dodge City.  I spoke at the Lions Club there, where once again I was well-received.  In lieu of an unsolicited donation, something strangely related occurred after my presentation when two club members came to speak with me.

In addition to showing excitement over some of the community involvement ideas, they gave me heartfelt thanks specifically for not asking them for any donations.  Apparently, many cross country travelers pass through Dodge by foot, horseback or bicycle; apparently, many do so on behalf of a cause for which they solicit support.  In contrast, our cause involved more giving to the local community than soliciting, which brought palpable relief to our hosts.

I have hiked in two different eras now.  The seventies and eighties witnessed much fewer long distance hikers than now..  A few hundred hiked the Appalachian Trail the same year I first did in 1975; under one hundred tackled the Pacific Crest Trail in 1977; our group of seven who thru-hiked the entire Continental Divide Trail in 1985 likely doubled the number of all previously successful thru-hikers, as claimed to us at the time by the Continental Divide Trail Society.

Back then manufacturers of outdoor gear were more willing to sponsor a thru-hiker; I have been sponsored by several.  Now there are too many thru-hikers, and the endeavor too common, to engage sponsorship outside of unusual cases.  Instead, there appears to be a rise in the number of long distance travelers doing so for a cause these days, so much so that local communities along the more frequently traveled paths have been saturated with their soliciting.

Maybe our model of giving something to the communities we pass through, albeit what only amounts to advice in our case, can be the next long distance hiker trend.  I own a pedicab that I used for transporting Cindy around town when she first no longer could walk; someday I hope to traverse the country again, this time in the pedicab and stopping at children’s hospitals (children weigh less) to provide rides for disabled kids.  Anyone could come up with their own unique idea for this model of giving while traveling.

Dodge City was literally a turning point for us, as in we turned to hike due north until we reached Larned.  This exposed us to high cross winds of 40+ mph over the open Kansas plains, forcing us to lean into the wind and hiking somewhat at a diagonal.  As we hiked mostly on paved roads throughout this stretch, whenever a large truck broke the wind for us we had to catch ourselves from suddenly falling over.  “Russian thistle,” tumbling tumbleweeds if you will, would soar across the road too quickly for me to adequately catch on camera.

Sheriff Bobby Blackwell stopped us along this stretch to engage in long, friendly conversation.  He advised us that tornadoes track northeast, which means if we encountered one we should always head southeast.  Considering this was Kansas, we paid close attention to his expert advice.

Another sheriff stopped us as we neared Larned, but this exchange was not as pleasant.  A passing motorist had reported us with suspicion and the sheriff had to respond.  We did not mind the interrogation as the sheriff looked embarrassed the whole time for having to ask for our ID, except for having to stand still in the rain.  I guess we did not look too threatening to him and he left us with meek apologies.  A trucker punctuated this incident soon after by giving us a long blast on his horn.  Most horn blasts give us are unmistakably friendly; this one unmistakably was not.

This would seem out of character for Kansas, a state that the ADT grapevine holds as one of the friendliest along the way, but how people behave when hurried or under pressure differs from how they behave when relaxed.  Towns in Kansas showed us great hospitality, to which this very stretch attested.

In Spearville we stayed at the Presbyterian Church.  Britta, the sexton there, brought us supper and invited us for breakfast while introducing us to her cute helpers.

In Kinsley, halfway point milewise for the country, we stayed at the Methodist Church, as arranged by the Methodist Church that previously hosted us in Dodge City.  Our stay fell on a Sunday and I sang in the choir, being asked to come back by fellow choristers who did not otherwise know what I was doing there.

In Garfield we stayed at the Methodist Church that was the former parish for the pastor in Kinsley.  We participated in their delicious potluck supper.  Unfortunately, our conversation with parishioners revealed how towns in Kansas like Garfield are diminishing in numbers and involvement.

In Larned we once again stayed at a Methodist Church, holding over for a rest day through another storm.  We made friends with Frank the custodian, whose wife Linda sent back to the church the second evening to bring us home for showers, laundry and supper.

When I first looked back on this week, nothing of great importance immediately stood out, but as I took a closer look I realized why our ADT journey stands out as the most amazing one of all.  Every journey features memorable moments, including memorable moments of kindness, but the kindness along the way on this journey became more ubiquitous than memorable.  That realization at the time primed me for a conversation in Larned that did prove memorable.

Jason Toll was the outreach pastor Helping Hands Ministry in Larned, a central organization to combine an existing food pantry and benevolence missions that take care of various needs from fuel bills to funeral costs.  They get their funds from various churches, the town and citizens, along with donations for businesses such as Kroger’s.  There are no questions asked to help those professed to be in emergency need.  Their assistance is not meant to be sustaining, after six years they report no abuse of this benevolence.

Right before I entered Jason’s office to interview him, he had been visited by a member of the community.  News got out that the annual Thanksgiving meal was being cancelled because of lack of financial support from the area churches.  The woman offered to cover the whole cost of the Thanksgiving meal anonymously, believing that this community function should never die.  This generous act by a nonbeliever created a minor crisis of faith for the Assembly of God pastor and my timely entrance made me his sounding board.

Jason confessed he believed that only through faith are we moved towards good works, even though the anonymous woman seemed to refute that.  That caused him to ask what motivated me to walk across the country promoting the virtues of kindness and community.  I replied that as a long distance hiker I experienced kindness naturally flowing from all kinds of people in all kinds of situations, including this past week of hiking north towards Larned.

Certain conditions can turn off the tap for our kindness, conditions like hurried traffic or stressful work (or partisan politics and “social” media for that matter), but otherwise the natural empathy we feel for others causes us to respond.  Just from the short time we conversed I told Jason I believed his heart motivated him, not his faith.  He did not readily agree, yet at our parting I could tell he was considering that possibility.  Perhaps he still does to this day.

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The ADT Journey – Week 23

Posted on November 24, 2021 by Humanity Hiker

A passing motorist stopped to warn us about a coming storm, in defiance of the red sky that greeted our first evening in Kansas, allegedly an indicator of “sailor’s delight” and good weather.  Dusk found us chatting with a rancher and gaining permission to set up our tent on his land.  I secured the tent as well as possible, battened down the hatches so to speak, to protect us against the looming southwest Kansas dust storm.

I have protected ourselves successfully from all manner of mountain weather with my tent, but the fierce winds across the open Kansas plains bent our tent poles down to near their breaking point.  By morning the inside of our tent was coated with dust, as were the inside of our nostrils.  We had to shake the dust out of the tent the best we could as part of breaking camp, gaining an appreciation for what the Dust Bowl truly meant.

During our first Kansas town stop in Syracuse I gave talks at both their Lions and Rotary clubs.  The Lions Club meeting was held at the Methodist Church and the pastor allowed us to sleep there that night.  We also attended the Community Friendship supper held at the same church once a month.  Attendees donate most of the food for the supper, they then use the collection at the supper for needs such as people’s fuel bill.

We learned at the Lions Club meeting about a fascinating entrepreneurial effort that the club wanted to encourage others to emulate.  Like many southwest Kansas towns Syracuse is aging, but one native son became disenchanted with city and corporate life in Denver and returned home at age 33.  After the meeting we took a field trip to witness Matt Gould’s plans for renovating a depressed downtown property he acquired “dust cheap.”

Matt combined his interests in hunting, photography, brewing and raising bison in his creation of The Loft.  Downstairs, The Loft will be a restaurant that features Matt’s bison and beer.  We toured the finished upstairs, which can hold up to eight guests.  Matt will lead guided hunting tours in season and house his clients in The Loft.  His photography will be displayed, and available for purchase, on both floors.

Matt’s entrepreneurial spirit contrasted starkly with another Matt we met in Utah.  We had partied with Utah Matt and his buddies in their neighboring campsite to ours.  They treated us to a feast that resulted from their hunting trip, a trip designed to ease Utah Matt’s pain from recently being laid off.  They also supplied plenty of beer and in an inebriated state Utah Matt went on an emotional rant about the evils of corporations.

We got along well until I suggested to Utah Matt that he use his skills in concrete or hunting to either become or work with a proprietor.  He then defended how necessary corporations are for things like pensions and health care.  Kansas Matt escaped the clutches of corporations for a return to small town life; Utah Matt succumbed to the clutches of the corporations he hated.

Having pensions and health care contingent on employment gives corporations a large competitive advantage over proprietors and small businesses, and that is just the tip of the iceberg.  Over the past few decades bankruptcy laws have tightened for small businesses, while bailouts are saved for the corporations “too big to fail.”  The cost of higher education has escalated to the point of making graduates indentured servants to the corporations that most readily can provide gainful employment to pay down student loans, rather than risk entrepreneurial endeavors.

Still, Utah Matt was the more blatantly bitter person from feeling he could not escape corporate employment, while Kansas Matt displayed refreshing energy in his innovative zest to overcome the hurdles.  Plus Kansas Matt was better poised to be a contributor to the health of his community.

Somebody hit and dented Ky’s bumper again while we attended the community supper, just a week after the previous accident to her parked car.  Once again she took the news admirably well, even though this time the van could not be left somewhere for a week to be repaired.  Fortunately, by this time I had received word from our Kansas City friends we met in Frisco.  Ardie and Gretchen arranged an itinerary for me with four speaking engagements in the area.  Ky contacted them for a place to get her car repaired again during our stay in Kansas City.

Our next town stop was Lakin.  We did not meet any new friends here, however the town has a policy of providing a motel stay for wayward travelers, for which we qualified.  Lakin’s population was only slightly larger than my home town of Norfolk, Connecticut but because of the wide open spaces and sparse populations out west, places like Lakin could be considered a city, while Norfolk is a quaint village.  A sign revealed that Lakin had a different church denomination for about every 150 residents.

We arrived at Garden City in time for Halloween.  We first stayed at the United Church of Christ (UCC), where the next morning I spoke at their church service and played guitar for their offertory during their Mission Sunday.  The last UCC church that hosted us was in Auburn, California.  We had a natural connection with this denomination, the same as our home church who vouched for us throughout the journey, but we were very ecunemical in where we laid our sleeping bags at night.  Any church floor would do as we crossed the plains.

We talked for a long while after church with Pastor Mike Lake and wife Mary about the kindness and friendships met along the way.  I confessed the bittersweet feelings I had in making good friends only to part from them in such a short time.  Mary shared that she often found herself in that situation as a pastor’s wife and would tell people upon leaving:  “Thank you for being a part of my life.”  I would use that parting as we traveled farther along.

After coffee hour, we moved to the home of Dale and Debra Bolton, which became our home base while we slackpacked the next two days.  That Sunday evening the Boltons threw their customary dinner party.  We recalled our first night in Kansas and the futility of securing ourselves from the dust storm.  That led to a host of stories around the table about the Dust Bowl years in southwest Kansas, when people placed wet cloths around all the windows and cracks in their own futile battles against the dust.  I am not sure anyone can fathom the futility these stories convey unless they experience ahead of time like we did.

Debra worked for the Cooperative Extension of Kansas State University and shared with me an interesting finding from her research:  the diets of immigrants are healthier in their homeland than after they move here.  Health also was on Debra’s mind for Halloween, as she handed out toothbrushes, donated by dentists, to the 1600 kids that came by that evening.  Meanwhile, we learned that Halloween back home had been cancelled due to an early snowstorm that dumped 18 inches in Norfolk, even more in some other places.

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The ADT Journey – Week 22

Posted on November 20, 2021 by Humanity Hiker

This week of the journey found Ky flying back home for a family reunion, the Andersons of Olney Springs taking care of her dented minivan and us tackling our first completely unsupported stretch across the plains. We previously hiked unsupported across wilderness mountains and deserts; the plains presented greater uncertainty and unknowns to us, particularly in regards to camping.

I was curious about the potential role of trail angels during this week.  They are neither expected nor needed in the wilderness, coming across them on this trail during the wilderness portion, like coming across them on other trails in the seventies, occurred with intermittent town stops.  Would they now pop up as frequently as the towns we encountered?

We got our answer the first day out of La Junta.  A late start, twenty miles of planned hiking and earlier autumn sunsets found us out on the road with dusk fast approaching and no obvious place to camp.  We resolved to go three miles further to the Bent Forts Inn, where I gave my talk to the Las Animas Lions Club just the day before.  Upon arrival under darkening skies, the receptionist we first met gave us the OK for setting up our tent on the property.

We were now at a point in Cindy’s recovery where she could do a few things to help with setting up camp and we were already finished when the manager came out to greet us.  She invited us in for a free supper, a free breakfast in the morning and encouraged us to stay in their outbuilding in between.  We declined the offer for shelter but, well, a long distance hiker NEVER refuses free food.

The next day we stayed at John Martin State Park, a campground that had closed for the season.  We paid no fee, but outhouses and running water were still available.  We witnessed vibrant autumn colors along with the sunset that evening.

We headed for LaMar the day after that, a Saturday, with a plan already in place to contact the United Methodist Church, the former parish of the pastor we met in Pueblo.  Father Ramon met us at the Colorado Visitor Center and brought us to a motel where he put us up at his own cost.  We attended a mirth-filled potluck provided by the church that evening. The reason people kept greeting us with potlucks was no coincidence, considering that my message of community involvement often preceded our arrival.

The next morning I gave a talk to two combined adult Sunday School classes, drawing upon increasing anecdotes from the journey we were on.  In response to the talk they passed a collection basket around for us.  Witnessing the large number of bills people contributed humbled us.  From then on we had no financial worries about funding Ky and her support vehicle.  Higher gas mileage and lower fuel costs as we crossed the plains also helped.

The good folks of LaMar connected us with Pat Palmer for our next stop along the way.  Apparently, Pat stood out in the whole region as a man with a kind heart who does good deeds for others.  His pet projects were helping children and promoting Southeast Colorado to anyone who would listen.  Among his many avocations was wheelwright, Santa Fe Trail buff, chuck wagons and dutch cookers.

Pat became a cross between the Andersons and the Goth woman in our memories.  He had the completely unassuming, kindness by happenstance of the goth Woman, but during our brief stay we spent much time together, becoming old friends instantly, making our parting bittersweet.  We stayed in contact a few years after the journey was over.  I intended some day to pedal up to this wheelwright and chuck wagon enthusiast with my pedicab, giving him a ride over the flat plains (much easier than hilly northwest Connecticut).  Now I am not sure if I will see him or others from our journey again.

Pat’s chuck wagon interest connected us to another enthusiast in Holly, our next stop along the way. While we were there Kent and Elaine Anderson shared their experience of living through the Holly tornado.  What stuck out to me was how the town banded together to help their neighbors recover from the tragedy, getting much of it done before outside relief came.

The unfortunate side of staying with the Andersons was sitting through a whole evening of news.  The big story reported by their favorite channel, perhaps spurred by the Wall Street protests, was how labor unions  had spent $80 million on lobbying so far for the 2012 election.  I am not a real advocate for unions, mainly because my community advocacy supports proprietors, while corporations are what makes unions necessary.  Let us be real, though, my own research for the previous election revealed that just one particular interest group for corporations, the US Chamber of Commerce, alone spent $360 million dollars on lobbying, more than four times the combined lobbying of labor.  No one should look at those statistics and think:  “Those blasted unions!  Our laws and government must be unfairly catering to labor!”

Unfortunately, that is the conclusion viewers of this station would reach, partly because of the content, partly because of the means of “reporting.”  The station used marketing tactics to engage the emotions of their viewers, quite successfully, considering its viewership numbers.  Among those common marketing tactics are cultivating fear, entitlement and anger in viewers.  I felt like I was witnessing a time bomb ticking away towards blowing up our country’s collective brain and societal health.  You could see that happening with our hosts, a warm, kind, endearing couple who were getting ever more agitated with unions per minute of watching their favorite station.

The next day we crossed into Kansas, finishing up both the week and the longest state on the American Discovery Trail.  We engaged in great conversation with a rancher along the road, who had met other ADT hikers and granted us permission to camp on his land a few miles ahead.  After experiencing a “Trail Angel Day” in Nevada, this last week in Colorado qualified for our “Trail Angel Week.”

During this past week, while walking along roads past farms and ranches, I noticed how creative the folks of the heartland were with their mailboxes.  I never noticed creative mailboxes close to home before then, but now I do.  Whether that means our journey opened my eyes to them or that was the beginning of their popularity I do not know, but I hope someday to create and sell a picture calendar of mailboxes from our journey.  Please let me know if this idea appeals to you.

In addition to being the longest state, Colorado became the state of transitions for our journey.  We entered Colorado during the desert heat of summer and left during the coolness of the plains in fall, transitioning into and out of mountain landscapes in between.  We transitioned as well from wilderness to towns and farmlands.

On a personal note Colorado witnessed our financial situation transition from shaky to stable, due to lower fuel costs and rising, unsolicited donations.  The venues for my presentations on kindness and community transitioned to a broader audience that included schools and churches.  Ky’s role transitioned into being our scout for churches to stay at and present, whether during a potluck, a Sunday School class or church service.  More importantly, she also became a sort of kindness ambassador for us, oftentimes endearing herself to people before our arrival.

As we progressed through Colorado, Cindy once again showed evidence of her cognitive decline reversing.  She could help with setting up the tent, which became a big help as decreasing daylight sometimes meant hiking until dusk.  She talked about taking courses when we got home, particularly in photography.  I had her take pictures of me occasionally with my camera, but that seemed to intimidate her; I did not realize how involved she was in taking pictures with her own camera until after the journey was over. Things would only get better for her throughout Kansas.

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The ADT Journey – Week 21

Posted on November 16, 2021 by Humanity Hiker

We took a rest day in Pueblo.  I had hoped to present at a college in the city and get publicity from the local news sources, but neither happened.  Instead, the tone for what would happen during our journey across the plains was set when we stayed at a church and I performed a couple of my community themed songs, with my backpacker’s guitar, during their Wednesday evening dinner program.  A conversation with Pastor Rick Calhoun of the First United Methodist Church led to him making contacts for us with Lions Clubs and a Methodist church along our route.

I was interviewed by Voices on the Net, an internet radio platform.  The interview was supposed to last 30 minutes, but our journey captivated them and they extended the interview to 45 minutes.  The way they started gushing over us embarrassed me a little bit.  Kindness and community building are not the province of idols.

Also in Pueblo I interviewed the Director of the Cooperative Care Center whose mission is “sacking hunger.”  In addition to single mothers and their families being food challenged, Marci Reynolds-Bain informed us of three new demographics: single fathers, senior citizens and baby boomers (the interview occurred before baby boomers became senior citizens).  Each demographic has its own unique set of unfortunate circumstances, requiring too much depth to go into here, all consequences of an economy where wealth disparity has been growing for five decades.  Marci shared that sometimes she needs to be alone and debrief from all the sad situations she witnesses.

You should check out my informative interview of Marci.  Though  I currently go by the trail name of Humanity Hiker, at the time of the ADT journey I chose Hiking Humanitarian, which was too much of a mouthful.  While the symphony I composed about our journey is on the Humanity Hiker YouTube channel, all my interviews during the journey are on the Hiking Humanitarian channel.  Someday I intend to merge the two channels, but for now I strongly encourage you to listen to Marci if hunger issues interest you.

Before our journey started, I arranged to give a talk at the Olney Springs Lion Club, which would become our second rest day in a week.  Several interesting events happened on our way there.

At a convenience store a young Goth woman attempted to give us money, thinking we must be homeless.  I declined the money and took her picture.

A lonely woman who lived in a trailer park invited us as the only guests for her birthday.

We camped on the lawn of a church, learning the next morning that they had an automatic sprinkler system.

We met a hardware store owner in Boone, who occasionally provided a place to stay and work for homeless people. The next day a motorist pulled over who had been involved in the Wall Street protests across the country that year and was enthused about our advocacy to build community.  The juxtaposition of the proprietor in Boone with Wall Street investors in regards to community is an angle seldom explored. While corporations may have foundations and other means to benefit society, local proprietors are more likely to be involved with building their community.

As we passed and took notice of a bustling Quonset hut in Avondale, two people came over to tell us they were preparing for the grand opening of their cowboy church in a couple days, and invited us to attend.

The morning of our rest day coincided with the grand opening of the cowboy church, so guess where Ky brought us.  After all, she said she wanted a cowboy boyfriend, so this was her chance! The service was held inside the Quonset hut.  A cowboy band provided music, set up on some bales of hay just outside the Quonset hut entrance.  After the service ended they quickly rearranged the hut for a grand potluck lunch, complemented by a cowboy barbecue set up outside.  Then they capped the grand opening of their cowboy church with a rodeo!

We stayed with hosts Ed and Lorell Anderson during our rest day in Olney Springs. The day was capped with a potluck hosted by the Olney Springs Lions Club that evening, where I advocated for community involvement as usual, now with examples such as Leadville’s community meals program.  I made a connection between community involvement and local autonomy.  One of the members, who worked for an energy company, responded with a complaint about the “People’s Republic of Boulder” seeking to make their town energy independent.

I suggested that Olney Springs and other towns of the Colorado plains want the local autonomy to do things their way.  Why should Boulder be denied their own local autonomy because they have different beliefs?  That message seemed to hit home to everyone but perhaps the energy employee, as the club voted to donate $100 to us, unsolicited as always.

The Andersons were tremendous hosts to us during our stay.  They were particularly fond of Ky.  She would be going back east in a few days for a family reunion and they offered to help her with transportation to the airport and stow her car.  Ed shared a touching story from when he used to be a Santa Claus in Illinois.  I share that story here.

The day we left the Anderson’s for our hike to La Junta was the only overcast day during our stretch along the Colorado plains.  The gloominess fostered bittersweet thoughts of our wonderful hosts.  In the past ten days the Andersons, the Cravens and Dick Bratton took us in as one of their own, and leaving them was leaving family behind, only with less chance of ever seeing them again.

Just as memorable, in some ways more so, were the trail angels like the Goth woman, John Nicholas and others who we encountered completely by happenstance and sometimes only briefly.  These also were the type of trail angels I encountered during my long distance hikes of the seventies, people who you alone encountered and not hundreds or thousands of other hikers.  This is a special, intimate type of trail magic that is fading along the more established trails, where trail guides broadcast where the thru-hiking masses can find trail angels all along their route.

The Amderson’s daughter Charli, who visited her folks while we were there, had pulled some strings to arrange quite the treat for us in La Junta.  Once we arrived in town we were “held hostage,” a La Junta tradition of local police pulling over passing motorists, bringing them to a complimentary hotel where they are then brought to a complimentary meal at a local restaurant, and then brought to the monthly “Wake Up La Junta” celebration the next morning.  Police no longer can stop people for the tradition, but we were not too hard to spot coming into town.

The MCs for the “Wake Up La Junta” event were dressed in long, red, flannel pajamas, reflective of the 6:45 am start.  A banner behind the stage read: “La Junta, the Smile Hi City.” Jokes were told, awards were given out, the high school jazz band played and, most importantly for a couple of thru-hikers, breakfast was served.  As sort of the guests of honor we sat at the table nearest the stage.  They also gave us a bag of various gifts from local vendors.  The point of the hostage tradition was to give out-of-town folks a neighborly introduction to the charms and businesses of the town. Well, they won us over!

Catching “Wake Up La Junta” seemed like another example of being blessed by serendipitous timing on our journey, starting with arriving at Middlegate Station in Nevada when they were having their Saturday all-you-can-eat steak barbecue.  Having been blessed by trail magic so often leads me to wonder if serendipity is the right word.  Maybe happy coincidences are not really rare for those who put themselves out there for them to happen.  Maybe if our journey brought us through La Junta a week later we would have missed something wonderful there, but experienced something wonderful later in Lamar (oh, wait, we did).  Maybe serendipity provides good cause for us not to feel fortunate for ourselves, but to feel hopeful about humanity.

We took an unplanned rest day in La Junta, the third of the week, in order to give talks at Lions Clubs in both Las Animas and Cheraw.  Upon leaving the second meeting in the evening, one of the Cheraw members rear-ended Ky’s parked van.  She took the mishap extremely well, especially considering that she was about to fly back home for a family reunion.  Fortunately, the Andersons from Olney Springs came to Ky’s rescue, bringing her to the airport with the peace of mind that they would arrange for the body repairs while she was gone.

We left La Junta with full packs that would bring us into Kansas.  Besides enjoying the intimacy of just the two of us, we anticipated that food fortune would be waiting for us as always.

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The ADT Journey – Week 20

Posted on November 6, 2021 by Humanity Hiker

On our first day back from Denver I scouted trails for us to go up and over Pikes Peak, but I could not find a practical route that would land us near Cripple Creek. We would either be doubling back or landing on the wrong side of the mountain.  Our gracious host Dick Bratton drove us to the top of Pikes Peak for the day, but my goal of climbing a 14,000 footer in Colorado would remain unrealized for now.

Cindy had her own unrealized hiking goal. We met while preparing with a group to hike the Appalachian Trail in 1980.  Her desire to hike long distances predated our relationship, but since that time my outdoor adventure objectives also became hers, even if she had to do them independently of me.

This was true for the Long Trail, which I hiked twice as part of an interdisciplinary course I helped to organize, called Frost’s New England, and once more with a nonprofit I founded for family disadvantaged teenagers.  Cindy was not on any of those hikes, though she provided support for the nonprofit journey.  She instead hiked the Long Trail with her friend and college roommate.

On our wall hangs my Triple Crown plaque, awarded after I became the third person to achieve the Triple Crown of long distance trails when I hiked the CDT in 1985.  Cindy became the first woman to thru-hike the CDT on the same journey, but I hiked the PCT before we met and that remains missing from her resume.  The plaque on the wall served as a constant reminder of her own unfinished goal.  Had Cindy not been afflicted with dementia she undoubtedly would have hiked the PCT someday, with me or without me.

Cindy’s unfinished goal gave me one nagging doubt about our journey.  Should I have chosen the PCT for us to hike instead?  I chose the ADT for three reasons: as the longest trail in the country we would have the most time to reboot our lives; all the towns along the way facilitated my public mission regarding kindness and community; less wilderness meant a safer journey if Cindy became challenged.  The fact that Cindy handled the wilderness portion of the ADT well led to further doubt about my choice on which trail to hike.

Leaving Great Mountain Falls we became the first ADT hikers to walk the excellent new trail that Dick built, accompanied by one of the builders.  As usual, a guest hiker (or were we the guests on a new trail tour) provided for conversation, and I learned that Mike served in the military, proclaimed to be a Buddhist and retired as a physicist.  He also declared that as part of his Buddhist faith he could not harm a flea, yet he holstered a gun.  I have no problem with hunters, sports shooters, former military or police officers carrying a gun, but a man who could not harm a flea carrying a gun for protection?

I could not help but point out the irony in that, which led to a series of increasingly bizarre hypotheticals as a reason I should carry a gun as well.  I made clear I would consider myself cowardly, given the probabilities, to carry a gun for protection from hypothetical dangers.  That led to his eventual hypothetical that a mad man could be standing behind the next tree and rush out to viciously attack Cindy before I could do anything (on a trail for which we were the first official hikers). Through this hypothetical reasoning Mike asserted that carrying a gun for my wife’s protection was the morally right thing to do.

I bring this up now because of what I have learned about brain health since then, as well as what has been happening to our society.  Hypotheticals and other logical fallacies are used to sway beliefs by engaging emotions such as anger and worry.  Living your life according to logical fallacies, instead of probabilities, fills your brain with metabolic toxins, but that is not the concern of the “news” outlet, interest group or social media influencer seeking to sway you.  The more enraged or worried you become from believing a trusted source, the more likely that trusted source is using alarming logical fallacies and undermining your brain health.  Fortunately, I never became worried about a man jumping out from behind a tree on a brand new hiking trail to harm Cindy.

Ky slack packed us from Green Mountain Falls to Cripple Creek, where she left us with our backpacking gear at a campground in town.  She needed to head down out of the mountains right away before an impending blizzard arrived.  Before she left, none other than John Nicholas pulled up to greet us.  John had been the source of my biggest regret during the journey, when our Leadville host left for work too early for us to thank him or say goodbye.  In the interim since we first met him, John was transferred to a mining operation near Cripple Creek.  He seemed as genuinely enthused to see us again as I was to be able to thank him and bring some closure.  Yet one more serendipitous moment!

We set up our tent at the campground just as snow started to fall.  One other tent already was set up near us, but otherwise mainly campers and trailers resided at the campground, which was much like a KOA.  The snow fell heavily throughout the night, causing me to occasionally get out of my sleeping bag to dig us out of the snow covering the tent.  The next morning the snowstorm still raged and the tent next to ours had collapsed.

Cindy always sleeps soundly, while I am a light sleeper.  If Cindy snored I woke up; if I snored I woke myself up.  Neither of us snoring ever seemed to wake Cindy up, but as I dug us out of snow throughout the night while Cindy continued to sleep, never moving a muscle or showing any sign that she knew a blizzard was going on, I could not help but wonder ….  Maybe Cindy was just smarter than me.

As the snow continued into the morning we took the day off.  Since Cripple Creek hosted casinos, our rest day allowed us to partake in two 49 cent breakfasts, and we only had to pay for one.  When the owner of Bronco Billy’s found out what we were doing he comped us breakfast on the second morning, before we packed up and headed down out of the mountains.  I tried to give our waitress a tip but she refused to take it.

While hanging out at the campground office we listened to a guitarist who resided in the campground and listened to his tale of woe.  Cheap breakfasts may have been available in Cripple Creek, but  where the establishments of the mining town once supported local musicians, Cripple Creek the casino destination featured DJs or out-of-town acts.  Cripple Creek was starting to resemble other resort towns such as Moab with plentiful but meager income opportunities, growing wealth disparity and elevated housing costs.

Our route down out of the mountains was on Shelf Road, a road not meant for your average vehicle.  As we headed down we recapped our journey in reverse, hiking first among mountains, then canyons, then arriving at desert twelve miles later for lunch.  We snacked on our trail mix sitting next to cacti and reflecting on how we broke camp that morning in the snow.  We did not quite meet my scheduling objective of getting over the Rockies before a blizzard hit us, but we came close enough.

Once we reached Canon City, Ky resumed slack packing us from there to Pueblo, while her friends Don and Lauren Craven provided us a base camp in West Pueblo.  Lauren arranged for me to speak at her church discussion group, the first time I talked about kindness and community for that venue.  This became a foreshadowing of our journey ahead, across the neverending but ultimately rewarding plains.

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The ADT Journey – Week 19

Posted on October 30, 2021 by Humanity Hiker

After Denver we went back up into the Front Range and headed south until we reached Green Mountain Falls, where the ADT Coordinator for the Colorado section lived.  Dick Bratton provided a home base for us when we arrived, which we needed while arranging our second trip back home.  We had another wedding on Cindy’s side of the family plus I had a paid Elderhostel gig, teaching a one day course based on my book “Systems out of Balance.”

Dick was a prominent figure with the ADT organization when we met him, also serving as a publicist and supervising the building of a new trail out of Green Mountain Falls.  He went out of his way to host and help the few ADT hikers coming through town each year.  We stayed with Dick for a couple of days both before and after our trip home.

Dick served us gin and tonics soon after we arrived at his place.  He only used Hendricks gin for these drinks, which he fancied because of their self-deprecating motto that they are the preferred gin by 1 out of 1000.  Another expression of Dick’s humor was his tendency to take any of your ideas and immediately repeat it as if it was his own.  His house proudly displayed his various interests, with badminton and skiing trophies, along with evidence of being a former airman, showman (and Dick could break out in song at any moment), his stint as mayor and, of course, his extensive involvement with the ADT and trail building.

The first morning we were there he brought us to The Pantry, the local food hangout, where I ordered and polished off a large breakfast burrito.  Only after I finished did I learn about the Mother Lode, a pancake that you get for free if you can eat the whole thing … which I did.  As we ate everyone came up to Dick to slap him on the back and ask how things were going with the town or the new section of trail the townsfolk were building for the ADT.  No other town along the route had as much awareness and involvement in the ADT as Green Mountain Falls, all due to Dick Bratton.

After my caregiver days are over I hope to do a nostalgia tour of the ADT, this time using my pedicab and giving rides to our kind hosts across the country.  Dick Bratton certainly would have been one of those hosts I revisited, except that he has since passed away.  These days I am in the frame of mind of wondering how many others will pass away before I can visit them, or if my physical capability to do so via nonmotorized travel will atrophy before the chance arises.

We traversed the Front Range during peak foliage for the area, always a thrill even if not New England fall colors.  The kindness continued when a couple with an inspiring story took us in.  They had escaped to the mountains after a life impacted by Demver area gangs and prison and totally immersed themselves in their small town community.  Unfortunately, they were heavy smokers and we did not relish staying with them, but their compulsion to turn around their lives by living for others compelled us to go along.

The couple reminded me of John Nicholas, the humble man we stayed with in Leadville who tricked me into accepting a twenty dollar bill.  We met John in Leadville because he moved in to take care of his ailing uncle and remained there after his uncle passed away.  Something about the humility of both John and the couple made their acts of kindness extra special.  Perhaps in the back of my mind I apprehended that John’s commitment as a caregiver would eventually be mine.

Thinking about John brought an unsettled feeling.  Outside of when we first met we had little interaction with him.  His job as an operator of large mining equipment required early to bed, early to rise and be gone all day.  We never said goodbye or thanked him for his kindness when we left.  This lack of proper closure haunted me for weeks afterwards.  Fortunately, we were able to thank the reformed and transplanted couple from Denver when we left.

When we left the Denver area Ky went back home for a week, but first she drove the support vehicle to a friend’s home in Colorado Springs.  When we arrived at Green Mountain Falls we got a ride to Colorado Springs and drove the support vehicle back up to the Denver airport, where we flew home to attend the second of our two weddings.  We appreciated Ky’s generosity in allowing us to commandeer her minivan in this fashion.

Everything about this second trip home went better than the first time.  My relationships warmed with Cindy’s family and our son was doing better, alleviating two stressors on Cindy.  My presentation at the Elderhostel also went well, as I was able to temper my descriptions of how our social systems are out of balance with the hope of kindness and community involvement we experienced first hand during our journey.

We arrived back at Denver on the same day as Ky and the three of us drove back down to Green Mountain Falls together.  We had just a few more days in the mountains before beginning our long trek across the plains.  Feeling refreshed and upbeat from our trip back home, could we now finish our mountain trek without being hit by a major snowstorm?

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The ADT Journey – Week 18

Posted on October 26, 2021 by Humanity Hiker

As we walked across the country people would ask what Cindy and I talked about while hiking all that time together.  I always responded that we had little to talk about, followed by an imaginary conversation:

How was your day today, dear?
Same as yours.
What did you see?
Same thing you did.

I deflected the topic because Cindy and I seldom conversed due to her cognitive decline, something we were not confessing on our journey.  People experiencing her affliction become too self-conscious to strike up a conversation.  Before we married Cindy was known as “Gabby Galvin” and I enjoyed the hundreds of miles listening to her (I could also dominate a conversation, but never in such a delightful manner).

One of the downsides of what would otherwise be our most amazing journey, out of many, was we no longer entertained each other through the occasional miles of monotony.  As we crossed the Front Range to Denver three people joined us on separate days, finally providing abundant opportunity to converse while hiking. 

Dave Rockwell, a high school classmate, joined us in Georgetown to hike with us for the entire day.  He then accompanied us to a speaking engagement I had at a college afterwards.  “Rocky” and I were probably the two classmates most engaged in outdoor adventure out of about 120 high school students.  We both acquired strong academic backgrounds after high school. I am not sure why we have not spent more time together over the years.

Mike Hinckley also joined us in Georgetown to join in our 25th anniversary celebration.  As part of the same 1980 expedition that brought Cindy and I together, he continued to stay in touch and hiked more thousands of miles with us than any of our other long distance hiker friends.  Though he did not hike with us out of Georgetown, Mike joined us as we came down out of the Front Range into the Denver area.  After hiking with us he brought us to his home in Littleton, along with Ky, where we stayed for a couple of rest days.

We also hiked a few miles with Allan, who we met as we crested the last ridge of the Front Range and got our first glimpse of the plains.  I imagine the intimidating awe that strikes the west bound hikers of the ADT when they come upon the looming presence of the Rocky Mountains after walking thousands of miles over the plains, particularly if they have not done previous mountain hikes.  Truth be told, a similar awe struck me when I first glimpsed the expansive plains, stretching out to the eastern horizon.

I love mountains.  Neither blizzards, thunderstorms, raging creeks nor lung busting terrain ever shook that love.  My comfort with hiking over mountains resembles most people’s comfort with a stroll along their local nature trail.  Mountains do not intimidate me.  But the never-ending plains?  Holy ****!  Looking out towards the plains was like looking out over the ocean, with the same feeling of infinite vastness.

I had to stop for a while to gaze at and reflect on the several questions this vastness represented.  How would we handle the sameness of the terrain?  How would we handle the interminable road walks?  How would we handle hiking through the winter?  How would we handle the lack of daylight?  How would we handle hiking through so many towns?  How would we handle spending the most important holidays away from home?  I felt more comfortable looking out over the Great Basin deserts we would cross in summer than I did looking out over America’s broad heartland.

During our rest days I gave an on-air interview at Denver’s public radio station and presented at the University of Denver.  When we left Mike’s company after three days we brought with us the merchandise we stashed at his place during our drive across the country.  Future stashes would need to be shipped home, as paltry sales of books and CDs reflected my lack of business acumen.  Fortunately, there were signs that we could fund Ky’s support beyond Colorado, as people continued to donate without us asking.

We spent our last day in the Denver area with Dan Brunson, the golfer we met at a campground in Fruita, who suggested I should be giving my talks about kindness and community involvement to young people at schools.  Since then I managed to present at four Colorado colleges.  We were touched that he chose to camp out with us our first night back on the trail, which also happened to be his birthday.

For the rest of our hike I would speak at only one more college, but managed to present at high schools and elementary schools as well.  Across the plains I added churches as yet another venue.  All things considered, Dan had a huge influence on our journey and mission; I remain appreciative to this day.

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