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.
