I find myself smiling, however, as I look up at the mountain peaks rising in the distance along the highway. My eyes go up and beyond the peaks and I notice the clouds floating there over the trail. I suddenly feel the strong presence of my dad once again, looking down upon me in this new adventure.

A year ago I was stepping out of an SUV and onto a mountain trail, walking away from all the certainties of my life, and walking toward a great unknown adventure waiting to be lived and experienced. I was headed north the long way around, along the Appalachian Trail.


This morning, I find myself climbing back into a car and heading in the same direction. This time, however, I will travel the interstate northward, only being able to cast my eyes up at the great mountain range that hosted my travels the year before.  My journey is taking me into northern Virginia, where I will attend a weekend Summit for ministry organizations across the country who work within the disability community. My goal is to make contacts and spread awareness for The Hope Connection, our soon to begin online community for families raising children and adults with disabilities.


Last year at this time a was a novice to the trail. I didn't know how much I didn't know!  I started with simple passion, time and experience would do the rest. Today I feel the same way. I'm driving toward a meeting with seasoned professionals who have walked the trail of ministry for many years. All I carry with me is a passion to see people helped and a simple idea that I am convinced will make a difference.


On April 3rd last year, as I took my first steps north from the trail's beginning at Springer Mountain, I walked with a stranger that was soon to become one of the closest friends I have ever known. I am convinced that God placed him there in that mountain clearing just for me. In the weeks to come,  we not only grew to be close friends, he was also my mentor. During our time together I was discipled in the ways of the trail and learned the skills it would take to go on alone through the rest of my journey.


Part of my purpose and goal last summer was to raise an awareness of the needs of the disability community.  This year I am focused on doing something that will make a difference in meeting those needs. As I drive north today, I can't help but wonder if God doesn't have another "Highlander" up ahead to walk with me for a way. I wonder about all the others I will meet along the trail and the stories and experiences that will come out of those encounters.


It was crazy to set out last year thinking I could survive a summer backpacking on a mountain trail. It is even crazier to think that I have anything to offer that can truly make a difference to families overwhelmed by the challenges of life. I find myself smiling, however, as I look up at the mountain peaks rising in the distance along the highway. My eyes go up and beyond the peaks and I notice the clouds floating there over the trail. I suddenly feel the strong presence of my dad once again, looking down upon me in this new adventure.


Don't worry, Dad. I'm still "stirring the pot!"

 

This is a blog I wrote a few months ago. I found it recently and realized that it is still as fresh as I day I wrote it. It captures my excitement over the journey, one year later. In fact, it reminds me that the journey is never meant to end...

It is 6:45 am. A few months ago, I would have been packed up, had my pack already lifted onto my back, and have taken my first steps down the trail for the day. In the soft early hours of the morning, I would be the first hiker who would have the honor of breaking the webs that had been spun so carefully across the trail during the night. The absense of spider webs always raised my hopes that someone else was hiking before me and there was a chance to meet and greet a fellow traveler in the hours ahead.

Today, however, my trail is not a path in the woods. I miss that path, but my life has been completely taken over by several new challenges in the months since I said goodbye to the AT and returned home from Harpers Ferry. I arrived home in the fall to the news that my mother was dying of cancer. The doctor explained the situation to us and predicted only three to six weeks were remaining for her on this earth. He was wrong in his timing. She lived through the fall and passed from this world just before Christmas. During that time, I moved in with her as a caregiver and son, a path that I had never envisioned walking.

The second challenging journey I found waiting for me involved the sponsor of my hike, the Christian Churches Disability Ministry. All summer long I had been sharing the dream of creating an online community for famillies who are caring for children and adults at home with disabilities. Everywhere I went I found families expressing intense interest and encouraging me to not let it remain just a dream. Once home, to my surprise, that challenge was entrusted to me. I now am working with CCDM as the Director of Spiritual Outreach And Development. My main task is to fund and develop this online community, with the potential of reaching out and touching thousands of families across America and around the world. We have named it, "The Hope Connection."

Today is a good day to once again pick up my pen and start charting the journey.  I have just spent the night in Maryland, not far from where my tail hike ended. My purpose for being here is to wrap up some lose ends of family business. When I head back home tomorrow, it will be to dive in to the new challenges of my assignment. I believe its time to be Phoenix once again.

 
Last fall, when I started planning for the hike, I had dreamed of crossing the bridge spanning the Hudson River, in New York state. My thoughts then were that if I couldn't end on a mountain top in Maine it would be fun to end the hike by crossing a river. Those thoughts came back to me today as I strode across the long bridge with traffic roaring past me and people waving.


September 7, 2013

I started down my final section of trail for the summer at 7:00 am. I had two miles to go along the ridge of the mountain and then a fairly steep drop from the heights down to the Shenandoah River far below.  The day was gorgeous, but the thick summer growth put my last walk in deep shadows. Along the ridge I found several weekenders stirring out of their tents. With quiet greetings I walked on by. I was savoring every moment, every interaction, every step along the path I had grown so used to following.

I took several breaks along the ridge path, not because I was tired, but to soak in and enjoy for just a few minutes longer the quiet and solitude of the place.  I was aware that in a few more turns of the trail I would begin my decent down into the noise of the highway and busy tourist town. Even more so, that these last steps were leading me to the end of this great adventure. I was eager to be home, but hesitant to leave the trail behind.

Finally I reached the place where the trail turned and began it's 1.9 mile descent. It was a bit steeper than normal and required my concentration with each step. In the background I could gradually hear the sounds of traffic below, adding an unnatural dimension to the normal silence of the woods. I was eager to move ahead quickly, but the steep trail held me in check. Finally a long set of stone steps curled down an almost vertical drop, and there I was, headed onto the approach ramp that would put me on the bridge crossing the Shenandoah.

Last fall, when I started planning for the hike, I had dreamed of crossing the bridge spanning the Hudson River, in New York state. My thoughts then were that if I couldn't end on a mountain top in Maine it would be fun to end the hike by crossing a river. Those thoughts came back to me today as I strode across the long bridge with traffic roaring past me and people waving. There is something about crossing over a river that is symbolic of putting old things behind and moving on to something new and better. Even heaven is often depicted as a crossing of the river to the other side. It pleased me to think that my adventure included the river as a part of my last day.

Once across the river the hike was not yet over. The town of Harpers Ferry is built on the rocky cliffs above the Shenandoah and Potomac Rivers. From the end of the bridge I still had one more good climb to enjoy before I could call it quits!  It was a pleasure climbing the last slope. I remembered the struggles I experienced in April with each hill and elevation change. I thought about Johnny Walker, the pace setter for our little group in those early weeks. He helped us gear down and find a pace that we could use to get us to the top of each mountain without having to stop during our climb. I found myself smiling as I thought of telling Johnny, "This dog fight is almost over!"

Once up the ridge, the trail skirts the edge of town and passes scenic Jefferson Rock. From there it runs down the slope, through the historic old section of town, and across the Potomac River on an old railroad bridge.  First, however, a blue blazed side trail took me to the AT headquarters. There my picture was taken and information recorded about my hike. It was also a place to ask questions and find information about others I had met on the trail. The headquarters is at almost the halfway point of the trail, and is the perfect place to find out who is still hiking and where they might be.  There is also a large sign on the wall encouraging each backpacker to "Call Your Mother!"

There were two more things that I wanted to do before I halted for the summer. One was to find a quiet spot to remember my father and Highlander who both passed away during the early days of my journey. Both were sure that would be in Harpers Ferry before the summer ended, and in some way I feel like they both traveled with me.
Before I could declare the hike over. I crossed over the Potomac River and continued following the trail as it joins together with the old footpath of the C&O canal. I followed this much flatter, river side path for almost 3 miles to the spot where Roger was waiting with his truck.

There was now only one thing left to do to make the ending complete. As I swung my gear into the back of Roger's pickup truck, I looked across at him and said, "I need a place where I can get a big greasy cheeseburger!"  I'm eating this one in memory of Johnny and George, Wildcat, Swamp Fox, and all the others I had met and gotten to know because the trail had tied us together.

There is more that I would like to share and that needs to be said. Tonight, however, is a time to rest and prepare for my drive back home. In the coming days I want to share some additional insights and comments about the journey and what is to follow.

For right now, however, "This Dogfight IS OVER!"
 
Before I leave town, I am going to find a place that serves the biggest, greasy cheeseburger around and order one up in memory of Johnny Walker, Highlander, Wildcat,  and all the other friends I met along the path that have filled my life this summer.


September 6, 2013

I am settled into my last camp before Harpers Ferry. Tomorrow morning I will hike about 4.5 miles to a bridge crossing the Shenandoah River. Once across the river I will be in town.

There are several things I have planned once I get there. First, I will visit the headquarters of the ATC, which oversees the trail and promotes it's care and use. Once I have paid my respects to the  organization that made my hike possible, I plan on finding a quiet stop nearby and spend some time remembering my Dad and Highlander. Both of them were convinced I would make it here, and in many ways have walked with me the entire journey. Before I leave town, I am going to find a place that serves the biggest, greasy cheeseburger around and order one up in memory of Johnny Walker, Highlander, Wildcat,  and all the other friends I met along the path that have filled my life this summer. When I finish, I plan to spend some time giving thanks for all the people who stepped forward and helped make this hike really happen.

For tonight, I am celebrating with a last fire at my last campsite. I thought I was completely alone, enjoying my fire in the failing light, when a lone hiker came down the trail southbound. In the last light of the day he set up his tent and joined me at the fire. He had started at Harpers Ferry today and is headed south to hike the entire state of Virginia over the next six weeks. We talked until 9 pm, way after hiker's midnight, sharing stories and offering advice and swapping notes. It seems fitting to have him join me tonight. He is just beginning and I am ready to end.

I am settled now in the familiar comfort of my tent, my portable home for the summer. The woods around me are filled with the night sounds of the great outdoors. The rhythm of the insects is pulling me down into the place of sleep. What was so foreign to me just a few months ago is now familiar and comforting. I'm going to miss this!

 

The peace and fulfillment of yesterday has continued on. There are a number of things that I did not accomplish this summer on the trail. I know, however, that the trail accomplished everything in me that I needed.

September 5, 2013

The path of the AT is marked from Georgia to Maine with white rectangles of paint, or white blazes.  Usually they are found on trees, but sometimes are painted on rocks or on posts driven into the ground along the trail. Although the trail is better marked in some places than others, most of the time you can't go wrong by following the white blazes through the woods. (I have, however, gotten turned around and had to determine if I was following north or going south!)

The are another set of blazes painted on side trails along the way. These are a strong blue color. They signal pathways to water or shelters. Sometimes they lead to a road or a hostel. Occasionally a blue trail leads around a section of the AT or offers a shortcut to the hiker.  Most through hikers look down upon these shortcuts and refer to those who use them as "blue blazers." While every through hiker must use these from time to time, through hikers will avoid them as a rule, unless it means retracing their steps back to insure that they don't bypass the white blazed path.

There is a third blaze in the hikers vocabulary, the yellow blaze. This refers to the stripes painted on the highway and speaks of the through hiker who finds a ride around different trail sections as they travel north.  To be a "yellow blazer" is to move close to the bottom of the social ladder. The problem is not that they skip parts of the trail, for everyone is here to hike for themselves. The problem is that they hide it from others.

I guess I am guilty of being a yellow blazer. I have jumped several hundred miles north of my last mark on the trail to be able to finish the hike into MD before I run out of summer and funds. On the other hand, although I am technically still a through hiker (hiking the trail for just one season) I am also resigned to the fact that I can not finish the journey this year. In a few days time I will officially become one of the thousands of people who are "section hiking" the trail. As a section hiker, any piece of the trail I complete adds together to form the whole when finally completed. In other words, I am in transition. Today, I am one of the last through hikers on the trail heading north. In a few days time, I will be a section hiker who has done a big chunk of the southern trail. At this point, both are fine by me.

The peace and fulfillment of yesterday has continued on. There are a number of things that I did not accomplish this summer on the trail. I know, however, that the trail accomplished everything in me that I needed. Blazing New Trails was a success for the Disabilities Ministry and looks like it is opening doors for the on-line community and training retreat to move forward. As for me personally, the trail has been a teacher, a challenge, a discipline, and an adventure. It has changed me forever. I wish I could have gone farther. I wish I could have finished. At the same time I know that this summer opened and closed doors in my life that couldn't have happened in the routine rhythms of a normal season.

Am I going home to a job? I'm not really sure. Do I know what the future holds? Not a bit more than when I started. I have learned a few things that I will take home with me. I have learned that I can do more than I thought possible. I have learned that each day is a gift that rises up out of the day before it and leads you to the day after. Use it well to get where you need to go.

I have learned a thousand other things that I would love to share with you all, and hope to in the days to come. As for now, it's time to pull it all together and finish this part of the journey well. I'm headed toward my personal finish line!
 

I settled down on a rock for what was a planned ten minute break. It was over an hour later that I finally stood and put on my pack once again. In that hour of time something had happened inside of me that I can't really explain with words.

September 4, 2013

As tired as I was after my first day back on the trail, sleep did not come with the night. The mice were running in the shelter all night long. It was too warm inside my sleeping bag and too cold without it. My body seemed to have forgotten the art of sleeping on my shortened, Thermarest sleeping pad, and my bladder kept making sure that I regularly got up to count the stars. Morning finally arrived, and I began pulling all the pieces together so that they would fit like clockwork into my pack. By 7:00 am, I was heading north once again.

At this point in the hike my pack weight has dropped well below 30 pounds. I started in April with a pack weight of 33 pounds including 5 days of food and a days worth of water. As the weather warmed, I sent a number of items home or gave them away. I quickly learned only to carry what was really needed, and cast out all but the essential. A few items have been added in as well. (Sometimes it is important to go ahead and pack your yoyo for that quiet moment when you miss home) With all the additions and subtractions, my pack has ended up with a full weight of about 28 pounds. The lost 5 pounds makes a big difference when carrying your pack up and down mountains day after day.

I was entering a section of the trail that has been given the name, The Roller Coaster. The trail guide describes it as 13.5 miles of tightly concentrated assents and descents. On the altitude guide it looks like a sine wave snaking across the page. Last night I read some of the comments that other hikers had written in the shelter journal about their ride on "the coaster." Some found it difficult. Others were exhilarated by the challenge. A recent hiker who had crossed it during the days of extreme heat and humidity called it "a ride through hell."  In reality, it was no worse than places I had hiked through before, yet certainly much harder than I would have liked for my second day back on the trail.

At the southern point of the section, the local trail club has put up a sign. I forget the exact wording, but it basically says, "Welcome to the Roller Coaster! This section is brought to you by the Trail Boss and his crew. I'll see you at the other end... If you make it!" A few steps later the trail begins to crank up the first hill.

The weather is perfect for being outdoors. Unlike the heat and humidity of earlier this summer, the temperature is moderate and the humidity low, with gentle breezes blowing regularly through the dense woods.

The roller coaster consists of long sections of rocky trails and boulder climbs. The woods are dark from late season growth and it feels like dusk at mid day. My heart test for the day took place as I was coming down a section of large rocks. A tree had fallen over the trail and its branches and dead leaves were still spread out across the route. I was concentrating on stepping over the fallen tree, while also not getting entangled in the branches or slipping on the downhill grade. Something caused me to suddenly stop with my foot in mid air. Inches below my shoe was a large copperhead snake. I backed up, stopped shaking, and rerouted myself in a new direction! I had no problem with yielding my rights to that little section of trail.

The high point of the day took place on one of the roller coaster peaks.  I settled down on a rock for what was a planned ten minute break. It was over an hour later that I finally stood and put on my pack once again. In that hour of time something had happened inside of me that I can't really explain with words. The people, the places, and the experiences of the last months began to flash through my mind in a vivid clear way. The stillness and beauty of my mountaintop perch cast a deep peace down into my spirit. I felt a sense of rest inside that I have not known for the past several years. I also sensed a rising excitement about the days and years ahead that I had somehow lost in the past season of my life.

When I got up from that trail side rock and put on my pack it was with the strong awareness that my summer journey was complete. I am ready, even eager, to head home and dive into whatever awaits me there. It is hard to imagine that just a few weeks ago I was helped off the trail broken and feeling defeated. Today I feel a new strength within me, but not one of my own doing or one fueled by my own self confidence.

It is hard to put more into words right now. Maybe tomorrow I will try and write more and better explain what I feel is happening.  Until then, all I can say is that I do believe that Phoenix is rising.
 
A tree cracked just to my right and with it I heard a strange, chilling, animal sound. I turned my head and found myself looking into the eyes of a bear just a few feet off of the path, and staring straight at me.


September 3, 2013

Back on the trail. It felt so good this morning as I said goodbye to Roger and started down the connecting path that led from the dirt road drop off point to the actual trail. Once I saw the white blazes that mark the AT, I felt right back at home. I started stretching out my legs and moving north once again.

Susan had joked with me on the phone this morning about songs to sing as I hiked on the trail today. As I walked along in silence, the sun started pushing it's beams through the thick forest canopy of leaves and formed dancing circles of light all along the trail. I started having fun stepping on them, much like a dog might play with a reflection of light or a child might attempt to catch sunbeams shining through a window. Before I knew it, I was singing the words to an old hymn, "how beautiful to walk in the steps of the Savior, stepping in the light."

The weather was perfect, the trail was kind, and my spirits were high. Even the countless spider webs spun across the trail every few yards couldn't get me down. That was a clear sign I was alone on the trail, however, for no one had passed through this section for a while.

As the day wore on, I realized that this was not a picnic. I am now at my shelter, eight miles from my drop off point and unpacked for the night. I am tired and will certainly sleep well tonight. Four weeks of recovery from heat exhaustion does not really keep the body strong and ready to hike again.

By the way, today marks my first real encounter with a black bear, face to face. I had seen bear sign all along the trail today, but didn't think much of it. Mid afternoon, I was hiking along, thinking about how quiet it was in the woods. The air had stopped moving and the woods were completely still. Right then, a gust of wind blew across the trail, shaking the trees and causing their old bones to rub together and groan. A tree cracked just to my right and with it I heard a strange, chilling, animal sound. I turned my head and found myself looking into the eyes of a bear just a few feet off of the path, and staring straight at me. Whatever they teach you is worthless at such a time as this! I turned my head back straight, kept my eyes forward, and kept my feet moving. I listened for the sound of his roar and could picture him charging down the trail after me, but it never happened. Ten minutes or so later, I sat my shaking bones down on a fallen tree. About ten minutes after that, the rest of my senses slowed down enough to rest with me. My heart still stirs as I write about it tonight.

It's quiet here in the shelter as I wait for the night. I have it all to myself. In a little while I will fix supper, hang my food bag from a tree branch, and settle in for the night.

It's good to be back.
 
In many ways I feel this last section of the hike will be the most important yet. There are so many pieces to pull together.  The insights  and experiences of the last several weeks have made me more aware than ever of the unfolding, multiple purposes of this hike in my life. I believe that the threads are beginning to pull together into a unified picture.

*Note: The pictures are of the old building which once housed the Fountain Coffeehouse
 second floor was a large upper room of an old lodge hall that we rented for the coffeehouse. I was the 
director of the Fountain and a campus ministry at nearby Montgomery College in the mid 1970's. I have always 
been grateful for the confidence that the people of New Testament Church of Gaithersburg 
put in a young dreamer like me during those years.

September 1, 2013

It's Monday evening, September 1st, Labor Day. I have been working with Roger and Helen Ward for the past two weeks.  It has been a great time, working alongside two old and dear friends. Roger runs a music business, and I have been filling orders from online sales and shipping them out to all parts of the country. My love for music has only added to the enjoyment of my working with them.

There have been a few opportunities during my time here to explore a bit of the area where I was born and raised. One night we drove through the old downtown section of Gaithersburg and revisited the site of the old Fountain Coffeehouse, where the Kinfolk had played and I had my first taste of ministry. For over three years I spent my weekends operating out of the rented hall on the second floor of an  old lodge hall that we converted into a fountain of life for those who climbed the stairs!  The city has grown all around, but left the old downtown section intact. I was surprised to find the building much as it was almost 40 years ago.

The time has finally come to change gears once again and get back on the trail. Roger will drop me off in the northern part of Virginia early tomorrow morning to begin the last stage of Blazing New Trails for this summer. I am packed, restless, and ready to get started.

I would ask for your thoughts and prayers. In many ways I feel this last section of the hike will be the most important yet. There are so many pieces to pull together.  The insights and experiences of the last several weeks have made me more aware than ever of the unfolding multiple purposes of this hike in my life. I believe that the threads are beginning to pull together into a unified picture.

The end is just beginning!
 

It's been a wonderful summer. Nothing has gone exactly as planned, but everything has had a purpose. I am excited about seeing it draw to a close.

August 20, 2013

This morning found me driving the backroads that lead out to the beautiful Riverwood Campus outside of Louisville, TN.  I had an appointment with Gary Spangler, the Executive Director of CCDM at 9 am for the purpose of wrapping up any loose ends about the hike and discussing what might lie ahead. It has been a busy summer for Gary. While I have been off hiking and Blazing New Trails, he has been working with several new challenges in the operation of Riverwood, plus being involved with possible plans for opening another campus location in the mid-west. I also knew that finances were stretched over the past months by unexpected expenses and slower support giving. I really didn't know what to expect from our meeting together.

Gary is an unusual person. Growing up the son of a preacher, he also sensed a desire to serve God in some special way. Blessed with a great voice and a love for music, he grew up singing and performing in many venues. He also enrolled in college to prepare for ministry. His life journey, however, led him to a career in management with Delta airlines. After years of working and rising up within their corporate structure, Gary resigned to take oversite of CCDM. Over the last few years, Gary's gifts of administration and his passion for God and people have done wonders to restore life and stability to the organization.

Something happens when Gary and I get together. It is like one plus one equals four. I have missed those times over the summer while out on the trail. 

This morning we fell right back into step, starting back where we had left off in the spring. I left Riverwood today with pages of notes and dreams, and a green light to move ahead in developing them into practical working goals. I also took with me a glimmering hope for seeing the online community developed and the dreams of Blazing New Trails coming to pass.

This afternoon found me driving up the interstate towards the Maryland suburbs of Washington D.C. I will be spending a week or so with my friends, Roger and Helen Ward. Roger is the one who rescued me off the trail a few weeks ago in the heat. He owns a music business and has offered me some much needed temporary work. I will be helping him with inventory and shipping out orders, while at the same time getting ready for the last leg of my hike this year. At some point in the weeks ahead, he will drop me back on the trail to hike into Harpers Ferry.

It's been a wonderful summer. Nothing has gone exactly as planned, but everything has had a purpose. I am excited about seeing it draw to a close.
 
Without a sermon preached, I heard deep things from God. Without a planned and programmed song service, I experienced true worship. . . I was in church tonight. 


August 14, 2013

House Church. It is not a place to go where you will get lost in the crowd. Don't expect to sit back and take without also opening up to give. There will be no danger of getting bored. If you are there, expect God to move. These were the things I observed as I spent an evening with a lovely group of people who had gathered to simply enjoy being the church.

Throughout the day I had been watching to see what Robbie and Martha would do to prepare for this church that would meet that night. He didn't seem to be fretting over a sermon that needed tuned up, or a song list that should be run through. There were no signs of a powerpoint presentation or an announcement sheet to be run off. Instead, we spent the day in quiet conversation and fellowship. We shared lunch with a mentor and close friend out of Robbie's past. The afternoon was spent sharing memories from the past and catching one another up on the years between.

We started moving things around and setting up about 6 pm, and by 7:00 the house was full. It was a pizza night, and people arrived carrying boxes of pizza or huge bowls of salad to be shared by all. Conversations were warm and friendly as the group drew together and drew me in. For the next hour, the house was filled with sounds of good conversation, children playing, and real fellowship. It felt like a true New Testament agape feast, remembering the Lord's body in the breaking of bread.


At some point I began to hear music coming from another room and realized the evening was changing gears. I was quickly offered a seat in the center of things, rather than my spot on the hallway. As the group's guest, they were eager to share the evening with me. What followed was an unbroken flow of songs, prayers, words of encouragement, and edification. No earthly person there took charge, but the meeting was lead by the true Head of the Church. Before I knew what had happened, it was over!  Never has time flown by so quickly!

I have been to thousands of churches, and taken part in countless services there. Most of the people are just a blur in my memory, and the sermons and lessons I heard are long forgotten. I came away from this evening, however, deeply moved. Without a sermon preached, I heard deep things from God. Without a planned and programmed song service, I experienced true worship. I have also come away with a sense of knowing and belonging to these people in just a few hours that will carry long into the days ahead.

I was in church tonight.