July 22, 2013

It 6:45 am on Monday morning, July 22.  On the trail I would be packed up and ready to move north bound.  My eyes would  be quickly looking over my campsite area for any items left unpacked or any traces of trash. Once satisfied that I had left no visible trace, I would be reaching for my treking poles and moving into the day. Others might enjoy coffee and conversation to greet the morning, but I enjoyed silently slipping away up the trail and into the day, listening to the forest as it woke up with me to begin another cycle. After walking and waking, I would look for a nice spot, perhaps with a view, and make breakfast my first rest stop of the day. I would mix Carnation French Vanilla breakfast mix with water for a thin milkshake. (I have to thank Johnny Walker for that tip.) Then I would pull out my map and review the day, setting a few goals and planning ahead for water. Before starting again I would always check my phone for a chance signal to send a message home or attempt an early morning call.  The signal was seldom there. That done, my pack was thrown on once again, and with a prayer of thanks, my journey resumed.

This morning I woke in a comfortable bed in the middle of Virginia.  Instead of birds singing and mosquitos buzzing, I hear the gentle hum of the central air conditioning. It is all so strange and saddens me in ways I cannot express with words. At the same time, my thoughts are mixed with gratitude for the safety I enjoy and my rescue from the heat.

This morning, when I opened my eyes, my first thought was that my mind felt normal and clear again!  I have struggled in a fog like state since Thursday when I was brought in from the sun on the edge of a heat stroke. I have struggled to pay attention in conversations, and spent much of my time laying down and drifting in and out of sleep. Today is my first sense of waking up ready to do something.  With that energy is also the hurt and disappointment that I am not on the trail. I wonder how many days will pass before that ache passes?

What are my plans?  I haven't been in a state of mind to be making any for these past few days.  I believe that today will be one more day of recovery before going anywhere. My friend Roger is talking about getting me home in his car rather than putting me on a bus or public transportation.  I know that even this morning I would not trust myself to focus and drive any distance. With the heat index still over 100 outside, I'm not going anywhere on foot for the next few days. So I continue one day at a time, thankful that I have this day to enjoy.

July 19, 2013


I am writing this today from the home of a close friend who lives along interstate 81, in Virginia. Roger and I have known each other from childhood, and been close friends throughout all the years. Forty years ago I was his best man, and witnessed his marriage to Helen Zenda. I have also known Helen since our childhood days. Over the years Roger and I have worked together, shared a house together, and shared our dreams and plans together.

Yesterday I received help along the road from a trail volunteer who was driving past. He stopped when he saw my pack on the ground and became concerned as we talked. Thankfully, he had a cooler of iced beverages in his truck, and shared a coke and some ice for my head and neck to help cool me down. Roger traveled the highway south, and has brought me here to get out of the heat and assess the situation.

I am having all the symptoms of heat exhaustion. I get extremely weak, blurred vision, headache, and unfocused. In times past, this lasts about four days or so. After that, I begin to feel normal once again. Roger has offered me a quiet place to lay down, a cool house, and plenty of good company. Right now, it is exactly what I need.

Once again, I ask for your prayers.  This has been a roller coaster journey and I am determined to ride it until the end. Down inside, I think that I may have reached that point, although it hurts to think in those terms. I am trying right now to process the whole endeavor, and determine what happens next. My mind is not clear at this point and my emotions are mixed strongly together with my ability to reason.

Right now, I am staying cool and trying to stay positive.

July 18, 2013

Yesterday afternoon's thunderstorm turned out to be only a prelude to the symphony that followed in the night.  Act two was Thunderous Magnifico, follow by a grand finale, Rainfalliness Overpowerimisino!!!  In other words, the thunder and lightning was incredible, followed by hard pounding rain. My tent has been sealed for rain and stays dry under normal conditions, but nothing could keep out a rain of that volume and intensity. The result is wet gear once again!  I hate to admit it, but I'm almost getting used to this routine.

I was up and packed and on the trail before 7:00 am.  My hope is to have some sunshine this afternoon to dry out my gear before the storms hit again tonight.  The forecast is a 50% chance with a warning for violent storms possible.  I hope to be safe in a shelter tonight before that happens.

. . . . . . 

I wrote the paragraphs above while eating breakfast on the trail just a short time after leaving my campsite. It is now 1:20 pm, and I'm sitting in the shade along state route 42 to who knows where.  The trail crosses the road here and there is also a little parking area and private picnic pavilion. This is the last link with the outside world for the next 50 miles or so.
It has taken me all day to come the 5.3 miles to this spot. The last few miles had me wondering if I would be able to even reach this point. Even by breakfast I was aware the things were not going well.  My ankles were beginning to make their old complaints and I was not walking a rocky path.  My big concern, however, is the heat. I was feeling the effects of the temperature yesterday afternoon, but by 8:00 this morning I knew I was in trouble. I have been drinking all the water that I can find, but I am also sweating at an unbelievable rate. I am glad to know that my body is still sweating and trying to cool itself, but all the signs of heat exhaustion are manifesting themselves at this point.

My fear is to press on beyond here puts me in a remote location where I might have difficulty getting help.  My phone does not work, and there are no real road crossings after this one. I don't have the strength right now to even get to the next shelter and water, which is about 2.5 miles further on. I think that I have reached the end of what I can do and remain safe.

July 17, 2013

It is 5:15 pm. I'm huddled in my tent in a deserted camping area with rain pouring down outside and thunder booming overhead. You guessed it! It is my "welcome back, we missed you!" thunderstorm. It just wouldn't be right to have a day on the trail without getting soaked!

The morning started off perfectly. Susan and I headed out of Maryville around 6:30 and steered our way into Virginia and my drop off point. I enjoyed the few hours we had to talk and catch up on months of missed conversations.

My drop off was right by the interstate. There we said our goodbyes. I watched her drive away and then turned and headed back northward on the trail.

In reality, the trail actually headed due west all day. Over the next week I will move into some remote country west of interstate 81, and right along the West Virginia state line. Further north, the trail will swing back east of the interstate once again and head up through the Shenandoah National Park. Virginia contains more miles of the trail than any other state. It will be a long trek getting through it.

If you are wanting advice about stopping in the middle of a thru hike to take some time off and attend a convention, let me advise against it. The meeting in Louisville was great and worthwhile, but it is really hard to start back after being away that long. The transition from the air conditioned surroundings to the blazing heat was brutal today. My legs are aching and my hips hurting from the sudden plunge back into hiking with a pack on my back. The fat cells, which had began to reclaim my middle spent the morning laughing at me, bouncing with fiendish joy at every step I took. My lungs, grown used once again to the cool monitored air of civilization, fought the thick warm summer atmosphere of the trail as I walked.

My original goal for the day was a shelter 13.5 miles away. I set a secondary goal of a campsite at the 10 mile mark, just in case. The reality is that I have ended at a campsite only 6.5 miles along the trail from my starting point this morning. Several factors played into my short mileage today. First of all, it was 10:30 am before I arrived on trail and could begin. Another factor was my condition after being off trail for almost three weeks. It was in some ways harder to hike today than when I first began the trail in April. My mind knew what I should do, but my body was not ready to execute. The third, and unexpected, factor was the heat. I had hiked in some hot days in June, but I was not prepared for the intensity of July heat after being in air conditioning. I ran out of water before I could resupply. My energy level drained quickly to zero, and I began to feel panic.

Years ago, while a college student, I came close to death with a heat stroke. I ended up in the UT Hospital ICU with a temperature of 106 and still rising. That's the last I remember until I came through. Since then, I have had no major trouble with heat stroke, but have gotten sick on occasion when I overheat. Just last summer I had to cut short a Group Workcamp week because of heat. Until today, I never really thought about it has a danger for the hike. I guess I assumed that if God wanted me to hike, He would protect me from the heat. This afternoon, however, I started experiencing some of those old feelings of panic that come with the heat reaction. That is the major reason that I have stopped early. When I do overheat, it takes me days to recover. My mind gets fuzzy, and I loose all my strength and get sick in the stomach. My plan now is to take it easy again tomorrow, hiking the almost 8 miles to the next shelter. That should allow my body and systems some extra time to adjust to the outdoors once again. I also plan on getting early starts to my days so I can hike in cooler weather and perhaps stop and rest in the intense heat of the afternoon.

It pleased me to say that my ankles were not a real problem today. The trail was easy on my feet and there were no real challenges to deal with, however. I am still optimistic about things and will move ahead one day at a time. Thanks for all the prayers and encouraging words over the past few weeks. It is good to be back.

July 9, 2013

The morning was spent in preparation. A breakfast meeting ironed out the major details of a week that would include caring for the residents of Riverwood during their visit to Louisville, the operation of a respite room for the main sessions of the upcoming convention, the maning of our booth in the display area, and the entrance hike through the streets of Louisville and into the convention center.

Later in the morning Susan arrived to be a part of the hike with me.  A short time later the crowd from Riverwood arrived and settled into their rooms to rest up for the hike and long evening at the convention center.  By mid afternoon all was ready. 

I could feel the nervous tension in the circle as we gathered to begin the journey. Joining hands with me in a circle of prayer were the residents of CCDM's Riverwood Homes, along with other friends and staff that had come along to join us for our hike into the Louisville Convention Center.  In just a few minutes we would move out onto the sidewalks of downtown Louisville and make our way through the streets and into the vast area of the convention center that served as the host site for the North American Christian Convention. Once inside, we would continue our hike through the large display halls, greeting people all along the way.

The hike was a great success. We sang as we hiked, stopping from time to time to hand out information or to greet an interested bystander.  At one intersection we encountered two young men carrying full packs on their backs, traveling across the city in the summer heat.  They greeted the group as "kindred spirits" and wished us well as we moved on toward our goal.

Once inside the convention center our presence was more obvious.  We moved through the long rows of displays until we finally completed our journey at the Blazing New Trails booth. For the rest of the evening and all the next day the Riverwood residents enjoyed greeting and interacting with the crowds that past by. For each of them, and for me, it will always be a walk to remember.

The Riverwood Community is a unique place, a rare atmosphere of love and care in a quiet, beautiful setting in east Tennessee. Unfortunately, it can only serve a small segment of our nation's special needs community.  With Blazing New Trails, we are trying to encourage churches and individuals to be aware of the needs of these people and their families who live around them in their own communities. My hope is that this little walk in downtown Louisville, and my much longer hike up the Appalachian Trail will somehow help in making that message take root and grow. 

July 8, 2013

Today I rose early and once again strapped my pack to my back and headed out into the morning.  Instead of heading north to Maine, however, I spent my morning traveling to Louisville, KY, to prepare for the opening of the North American Christian Convention.  My goal, to take the message of Blazing New Trails For Disability Ministry to another level.

This convention (NACC), is a yearly event attended by thousands of people and Christian ministries from all across the US and around the world. In recent years the event has become more open and aware of the great needs presented by the disabled community.  It is hoped that my presence here will aid in raising an awareness of the responsibility of the church to reach out to this unreached group and the family members that surround them. 

The plan is that tomorrow, the opening day of the convention, I will hike through downtown Louisville to the Convention Center.  Along the way I will be joined by others and when we finally reach the doors of the convention center we will add many of the residents from the Riverwood homes and others from the disabled community who are here for the week. Together, we will hike down through the convention hallways, through the display areas, and onto the main arena of the convention gathering.  For the rest of the week, I will be sharing about my hike and purpose at our booth, in workshops, and in personal meetings with church leaders. Our booth in the display area is designed after a campsite, complete with a campfire, tent, and a large pot of trail mix cooking over the flame.

I'll try and share about the specific goals of Blazing New Trails in my next few entries.  Right now, it's way past hikers midnight, and tomorrow might be the most important miles I will hike all summer.  It time to click off the light, slide down in my bag, and get ready to blaze a new trail of experience in this ever challenging summer of walking on the edge.

July 4

This week has unquestionably been the hardest of the entire hike.  I have spent my week working at home on the yard and house.  My mother has needed a great deal of love and care, and it has been good to be here for her.  She has just completed radiation treatments for cancer, and is living each day in a great deal of pain. Add to that the loss of her life mate of over 70 years.  I am grateful for the time near her once again.

The conflict arises from inside and is difficult to describe.  I feel very disconnected and without direction here at home.  I dream of hiking almost every night.  I struggle with all the "things" that surround me in my home.  I feel uncomfortable walking around the stores in town.  For several months my whole world has been strapped upon my back.  My goals each day have been measured in elevation changes and miles traveled.  My major concerns have been rationing food, locating water, and finding shelter.  The rewards and successes of each day can be measured, logged, and reported.

At home, everything just happens.  Days go by and you do what you can, with the hope that you will add more later. Nothing seems to have a beginning or an end. I feel caught between two worlds, not settled back into the one around me, and not able to get back to the one I'm longing for. 

Someone reminded me this week that I am only experiencing what we all should be aware of. The things around us that tend to control and overwhelm us are not the really important things in the true run of our lives. If we are not careful, however, they can and will take control of us and dominate our lives.  How sad to think that we can so easily settle for less than the best, while all the time thinking we are pursuing the good things of life.  Paul, in the Bible talks about seeing all the snares of life as garbage that needs to be left behind in order to press on to the higher and better journey.  I hope I find the eyes and wisdom to learn to tell the difference between the garbage to dispose of and the real treasures to pursue.

June 22

I have spent these last two days in a motel near Atkins, VA. My left ankle is not supporting my weight and is painful to walk on. The right ankle is hurting from all the extra work of support I have put on it from favoring the other.  It is clear that I can't continue hiking one day and resting two more to recover. It has come time to make a very difficult decision.  I have called Gary at CCDM and will head home early for the convention. My hope is that the extra week off will give both of my ankles time to regain strength.   At the end of the convention in Louisville, I plan to head back to Virginia and continue northbound.  If my ankles have recovered, I still have the option of flip flopping north before the cold weather and coming south on the trail.

There is a Greyhound bus station south of here in Marion.  I will hitch a ride down there and take the bus back to Knoxville and home. I am trying to do the right thing, but it is very difficult for me to let go and head home.  From my legs up, I feel stronger and healthier than I have for over 30 years. It is hard to accept another delay based on the bottom six inches of my body!

At the same time, I have to live out the main lesson that I have been dealing with all spring. It is not really my hike. Each day starts and ends with, "not my will but thine be done."  I must admit that some of the most powerful events of the experience have come through the detours and unplanned parts of the hike.  I've got to be willing to see this as the same.

I will try and keep contact while at home.  My greatest fear is getting sucked back into the routines and responsibilities of home and losing sight of my dream. Even as I move back south, however, everything in me still wants to "press on to the mark."