As soon as we entered Missouri the terrain felt more like back home. The hills became a little more rolling, the riverbanks a little more chiseled and the trees thick enough to be called a forest. No one would mistake this for the steep hills and thick forests of New England, yet we immediately felt like “we are not in Kansas anymore.”
Our first stretch brought us through an urban corridor from Kansas City to Independence, Missouri. We encountered the most litter we had seen, including larger items such as a discarded toilet. We also encountered a variety of churches of all kinds, large and small, with the grandest being the corkscrew spire that marked where the Mormon church had split in its westward advance. A Mormon branch known as the Community of Christ remained in Independence spread to the surroundings.
A former minister for the Community of Christ Church, Johnny Stabno, was now a District Governor for the Missouri Lions Clubs. He met us in Independence and walked with us for a few miles, giving me the chance to chat with him as I did with other Lions Club members along the way. This kept a streak going of interviewing or presenting to a Lions Club of every state we passed through.
Our conversation went beyond business and engaged Cindy as well. In contrast to her quiet time with the Quicks, and to our own lack of communication while hiking, Cindy turned into “Gabby Galvin” for a couple miles. The topic had turned to pets, something that enthused Cindy. To my amazement, she could recall the names of pets we met along the way even though I could not.
After leaving the urban corridor the route continued to follow paved roads, often along railroad tracks, occasionally coming within sight of the Missouri River. The ADT through the plains of eastern Colorado and western Kansas roughly followed the historical Santa Fe Trail; now we roughly followed the historical Lewis and Clark Trail. Our growing list of roadkill spotted extended to domesticated species, including one that reminded me of Bill the Cat from the Bloom County cartoons. This gave me the idea of creating a roadkill calendar someday.
As churches increasingly became our hosts throughout the middle of the country, the targets of interviews and presentations followed. In Missouri all but a handful of stops would be affiliated with churches, thanks in large part to meeting the Missouri UCC conference minister at the KristKindl Markt. First up for us was the Ebenezer UCC church in Levasy.
Steve Redman, the pastor and our host, was also the director of emergency relief operations of the UCC in Missouri and parts of other states. He shared the eye opening insight that in our country the response to disaster relief can be too kind. When a tornado or similar disaster first hits the focus is on rescue and recovery of people. Many donations of goods cannot be immediately used or processed. Some, like broken toys, should not have been sent in the first place while perishables indeed perish before they can be used. Too many donations also interfere with building back, as they take away potential income from the local merchants wishing to reestablish.
This explains the need for the position Steve held, coordinating the different relief efforts from afar to prevent such problems. Meanwhile, we came across another example of the towns and organizations closest to the disaster providing the fastest and most needed assistance. While stopping for a lunch break at Nana Marie’s Diner in Wellington we learned that their response to a tornado was much like the response of Holly, Colorado that we learned about earlier. The proprietors also comped us a couple of chicken sandwiches in their retro fifties establishment.
When we reached Wellington, Ky transported us to the Arnoldi farm, our next base camp for slackpacking. Our connection that brought us here was through Sharon Arnoldi’s involvement with the Light Center, though she was away at a horse show. Bob Arnoldi welcomed us with open arms instead.
Even without the matriarch present the Arnoldi residence was bustling with adults, pets and a toddler. They appeared to have a barter arrangement with a neighbor who came regularly to cook suppers and then share in the bounty. I say appears, because everyone enjoyed each other’s company so thoroughly that likely no barter agreement was needed to continue the arrangement.
Staying with the Arnoldi family reminded me of home. The Appalachian Trail crossed the route between where I used to work and where I still live. If I spotted what must surely be a long distance hiker I stopped to offer them our hospitality overnight. Our kids got so used to this they considered relative strangers joining us for meals to be normal social behavior, at least for us. Since such hospitality unfailingly thrills long distance hikers, welcoming such guests generally resulted in a festive climate, the same type of climate we experienced at the Arnoldi residence.
Yet our grandest base camp this week occurred at Grand Pass, where we stayed once again at a UCC church, while Ky continued to slackpack us. Christy Windmeyer, a church parishioner and neighbor, brought us over several meals, as well as invited us into her home for breakfast on the final morning of our stay. We kept in touch for a few years afterwards, though I have not heard from her in awhile. During these covid times I wonder about folks and hope to visit them again sometime.
The Grand Pass UCC participated in a different kind of alliance than the ones we witnessed in Kansas. They partnered with UCCs in neighboring towns to rotate the location of community meals on Tuesday evenings. As luck would have it, we were at the right place at the right time in the rotation. Ky took an active role in preparing the community meal, showing herself to be perfectly at home in that role.
Near the end of this stretch a motorist pulled over to find out what we were doing and, in the process, asked if I was hiking with my daughter. As my hair gets longer I look older, while Cindy by now looked fully rejuvenated from our Kansas City layover. Both of us were itching to start hiking again by the end of the five rest days, a sign that we were meant to be long distance hikers. The rejuvenation might also explain why Cindy chatted more on this stretch.
Cindy’s progress was heartwarming to witness, and fortuitous in light of an email I was soon to receive.
