The end of a great adventure

From our motel on the north side of Dover it's only 15 miles to Bower's Beach, the finale to a journey that in all has taken 6 months and 6 days. Although not so grand, boisterous or remarkable as some of the other more prominent beaches in DE, this one seemed to me the most suitably matched to our trip.

The trek to the shore takes all day. So many wonderful people stop to take an interest. Some offer food, others water, while many just want to pet Bud and have a friendly chat. This may be the smallest state on our walk but there's nothing small about the hearts of those who live here.

It's dark by the time we actually make it to the sand, and the sign says that the beach is closed after dusk, so I guess our celebratory swim will have to wait until morning. I put up a tent in the Park right off Main Street since there are no signs prohibiting it. Bud settles down in the grass, but then gets excited to find three meaty bones on his blanket, a small reward for a job well done. We both fall asleep fairly quickly, but are awakened around 00:00 when the little Beagle next door becomes aware of our presence.

By 5:30 I'm ready to pack up and head once more for the shore. The quiet fishing town hardly stirs as we make our way back toward the beach. A few boats are headed into the bay, as the first resplendent rays of the sun begin shining forth on the horizon.

Once on the sand, Buddy goes crazy, like a puppy again, he darts haphazardly every which way. I don't know if he's ever been to the beach, but he certainly seems to like it. He finds a turtle, and many strange looking 'horseshoe crabs' (I was told that's their name, but honestly these things ought to be called alien crabs since they resemble something from a sci-fi film). A quick dip, a walk and then it's done... perhaps.

I don't have any grand epiphanies to elucidate, nor any concluding thoughts which need be shared. I only wish to end with thanks, my sincere gratitude to all those countless people along the way that have made this walk so wonderful. It's doubtful that I'll meet many of you again, but I'll certainly remember your kindness in months and years to come, every time I go back to the pages of my journal.

Thank you,

Lucas Hansen

In Maryland

It's extremely humid today, and even though we've been going slowly across the rolling hills, my clothes are still fully soaked. That said, I'm thankful for sweat glands when the cool breezes come. With the absence of my little red cart--it was lost two nights ago due to a ruined tire--I've definitely realized what a tremendous blessing it had been. Pennsylvanians have been so generous with gifts and donations (especially dog treats) my pack is close to 50 lbs now. I actually had to turn down an offer for food and water this afternoon simply because I can't handle anymore weight.

Around 16:00 we cross the Susquehanna via one of the most precarious bridges a pedestrian could ever attempt to traverse. I'm so thankful we both make it safely to the other side, and as a wonderful reward a friendly guy named Justin is waiting to give us a gallon of cold water when we arrive.

Toward the evening we meet a woman named Michele. She'd read about our journey on Facebook and instantly recognized Buddy as the three-legged dog everyone had been talking about. We're invited to visit with her and her friend who lives nearby, and I'm totally stoked to get the invitation since it's a chance for more friendships. Unfortunately, I am unable to find the address. Guess I should have written it down instead of committing it to my increasingly unreliable memory. So sorry Michelle. Thanks anyway for the invite.

There's a thunderstorm rolling in pretty quickly, and though I look for a place to shelter in the fields and woods, each potential area has a 'No Tresspassing' sign posted. The best option would appear to be behind a partially burnt, abandoned home on McCauley Road. I ask the neighbors if they'd mind me putting up a tent there, and initially no one expresses any problems with the idea. However, a bit later a well-meaning and protective husband named Gus comes to investigate the transient camper next door, and I guess he must have decided that we're harmless, cause after several questions he gives us the 'go ahead.' So here we stay for the night. Interesting first day in Maryland.

My sixth pair of shoes are toast.

Last night on Lincoln's highway

Another tranquil night of walking along highway 30 brings us safely into Gettysburg. Thunderclouds in the distance had provided an electrifying performance for most of the way. Luckily, this marvelous spectacle remained moving steadily before us so that we could watch but weren't obliged to participate.

Once in town, my first priority is to find a restroom. Someone points us in the direction of a convenience store, which gets me remembering Thailand, and random late night 7-eleven pit stops. There's not much to do at 2 am, so we go back to the west side of town and park it behind a statue of what I suppose to be General Buford on a horse. The memorial's large enough to block most of the lights from passing vehicles, but it's still kinda hard to sleep. I'm too preoccupied with imagined murmurings and brief glimpses of apparitions in the mist.

The features of the imposing figure towering above are subtly highlighted by starlight, and it's enough for me to simply lay there looking up at the shimmering hosts of heaven, wondering what the men of each respective army must have been thinking as they lay near this very field the night before the battle commenced. Then, the sun begins rising. A glorious array of colors pours over the valley, washing away all thoughts of grief and death.

More hills

Having arrived in Breezewood too early to check into any motel and finding the only campground closed, I'm considering pushing on to the next town. I lean over the hand rail of the cart and gently stir my sleeping friend who's been enjoying the coolness and peace of the old Lincoln Highway from his portable perch. 'These hills have left a knot in my back, Bud.' You think you could do a bit of walking now?'

Buddy yawns as if he hadn't heard a thing I said; then, with an intently focused gaze, he points his nose toward the eastern hills we've yet to climb and the sun which is beginning to rise and abruptly hops out of the cart.

This next stretch of road throws several more arduous passes our way, but we take each one in stride, breaking often to replenish fluids. It's evident that my canine compadre has had enough of this up and down game, and by late afternoon, I find myself wishing for the flat plains once more. My own strange take on a familiar Scorpions song spontaneously begins to play and its improvised lines escape between each laboured breath:

'Almost some..where..ere..ere. Miss you where I've been. Drat! There's another hill to go up again. Almost some..where..ere..ere miss you where I've been. I'd rather be walking the prairie again.'

For whatever reason, I find this rendition helps motivate me more. Sorry Klaus.

Sunday morning was a bit misty

By the late afternoon we've made it to McCullensburg and both me and the pup are pooped. There doesn't seem to be any place to hold up for the night, and I'm draggin' bad. How fortunate that a fellow we meet at McDonald's offers to let me pitch a tent in front of his trailer. Storm shows us the way to his place where we catch a few Zs, and man can I use 'em.

Storm gets on Buddy's good side

Around 21:00 we say goodbye to a new friend and, after a couple cups of coffee and a few conversations at the Sheetz station, set off again to conqueror the last of the high passes on our final push toward the sea.

From Cambridge, OH to Chambersburg, PA there must be close to two dozen of these hills.

Hunger

I awake to the sound of Buddy's alarm alerting me to the fact that there's been a perimeter breech. Dustin cautiously approaches the tent with a hot cup of coffee  saying that he'd been up a little bit earlier but hadn't perceived anyone stirring. We talk for a while, and I learn that he's been doing his best to take care of his baby girl, holding down a steady job while dealing with a number of personal difficulties. Equally admirable to the effort he's put into caring for his family is the way he's come out to show hospitality to a complete stranger who's pitched a tent in the woods behind his house. As I've said before, these tendencies toward kindness are all around us.

Going a little ways down highway 30, I stop at a Gulf petrol station to get a few things. As has become quite routine, a couple spots Bud and can't help but buy him some beef jerky, overwhelmed with compassion for his three-legged plight. I share briefly about our mission, and then, proceed to rest a while at the picnic area nearby. While sitting there, the clerk draws my attention to the fact that Buddy and I have made front-page news. The caption under our picture says that we're walking to raise awareness of hunger, and suddenly it strikes me, the most basic and prevalent hunger that people have is for meaningful attention. If you disagree, I'd challenge you to turn on the television, and look objectively at the great lengths people go to just to be acknowledged.

Now the only reason we're in the paper is because yesterday in Somerset a police officer named Ruth stopped to take an interest in what we're doing. People are constantly intrigued and curious, frequently pulling over to ask me about what's happening and where we're headed, and you know, it feels great to know that people around you are concerned, that they want to know about you, and they have a genuine desire to be involved in your life. I believe that there's a hunger in every heart. We all want to be recognized; we want people who will invest in us and whom, in turn, we can also invest in. Perhaps just as important as our need for physical sustenance, what we eat and what we drink, is the necessity of having genuine relationships. However, as I've seen on this trek, the more immersed in technology we become and the more introverted within our quasi independent, self-important worlds, the less we're able to experience the richness that comes with those sincere friendships.

It's not my intention to be a Luddite, nor do I wish to come across as preachy, but I feel that that caption would be false if I didn't take at least one opportunity to address hunger in more than just its literal form. Therefore, I encourage everyone reading this to make it your habit of daily going beyond the common courtesies and pleasantries with at least one person. When you have the chance--and you will--to stop for a few minutes and purposefully get involved in the life of another, do it. Maybe it's your spouse, or a colleague, or simply someone walking along the road. There's a satiety to be gained through such intentional efforts that far exceeds the satisfaction of the best meal.

Tough terrain

These hills might not be as high as the Rockies or the Cascades, but whew, are they a work out! The stretch from Monongahela to Donegal has shown me one relentless grade after the next. No sooner do you reach the top, than you're heading back down to start the whole grueling climb again. Gotta love the challenge though.

It goes without saying, fluids are going out nearly as fast as they're coming in. And Bud's been consuming water by the bucket full. Good thing there's no shortage of streams to cool off in. A big shout out to Ashton with my gratitude for the care package. Man, that Gatorade has been invaluable.

Monongahela River

I'm so stoked about getting into the Appalachians now. The next several hours will see us navigating through Roaring Run and Koosier Park. The area's full of trails and old roads, so, with a bit of luck, we'll find a good place to set up camp tonight.

Where're yinz going?

*I discovered the above PA colloquialism at an ice-cream joint just opposite Mingo Creek park.

We've made it, oh, I'd say, 15 miles today. I had planned on moving well into the night, but a friendly woman named Ashton has invited us to make use of her home. Not wanting to miss any opportunities for new friendships, we've gladly accepted the offer. I've just finished pitching the tent in the yard. Buddy's had a double helping of some really great food--an employee had discreetly placed it into our cart while I was in the Washington PetCo this morning. Fortunate fellow! He's getting to sample the whole spectrum of top end foods, thanks to the generous folks in this neck of the woods.

I'm told that dinner is almost ready, so it's off to the house for some pasta. Ashton and her mother, Naoma, both join me for the meal on the front porch. The food and fellowship are both top notch. It's a privilege to be welcomed by such amicable and hospitable people, and I'll try not to take such valuable appointments for granted.

Ashton and the knomes

All the hills have left Bud a bit more tired than usual.