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.