Hungry

As I was getting settled back into our apartment this weekend and thumbing through a month's worth of mail, I was eager to read the latest Sojourner's magazine. Much to my surprise, an article written about ECHO was featured in this month's issue. Check it out here (To view, you'll have to register, but it's free!).

Reading this article brought tears to my eyes. God's timing is perfect. For those who need a refresher, ECHO is the organization that Jon is raising money for in memory of his grandpa. He was the one who left behind some funds that has allowed Jon to hike the AT. And now that Jon is able to make a dream a reality, he wants to give back to an organization that meant so much to his grandfather. ECHO is making a difference by teaching farmers in poor countries sustainable farming techniques despite harsh conditions.

In light of the severe famine that has gotten worse over the past month in East Africa, I'm asking you to act. It's easy to sit back and be apathetic in our comfortable lives here in the U.S. But what if it were you or your child that was hungry? I want to encourage you to give up something this week. Perhaps the daily coffee at starbucks or maybe you want to fast for a meal. Instead, use that money to donate to ECHO. Not for Jon or for his grandpa. But for the people who are starving. We are called to be the hands and feet of Christ and by giving however great or small to ECHO, you CAN make a difference.

To donate, simply follow the guidelines posted here.

Fourth Quarter Thirds

It’s strange to be sitting here writing from Grand Rapids. The bugs are gone, the air is conditioned, the coffee is hot, and I’m wearing cotton clothes. I’ve also been diligently identifying the wildflowers that I’ve photographed, and am now at 236 and counting. Currently I'm trying to distinguish between different types of clovers, asters, and goldenrods. Despite the distractions of home, it’s high time I publish a post, so here it is.

No, I haven’t given up on walking, even though the hiker icon that is stalled on my map might communicate otherwise. I’m simply ahead of schedule, and can afford some time at home to relax, identify flowers, allow my body heal, eat well, and spend time with Tera before her work schedule gets crazy. You might think that being off the trail for a few days would leave me with nothing to write about, but I promise you there’s still plenty to say.

When you take on a project as big as the Appalachian Trail, it helps to break down the big picture into more manageable chunks. One of the first ways that I did this was to split up the trail into rough quarters: Georgia, North Carolina, Tennessee; Virginia and West Virginia; Maryland, Pennsylvania, New Jersey, New York, Connecticut, Massachusetts; Vermont, New Hampshire, Maine.

The first quarter was full of new things and excitement. The whole trail was before me, and Georgia offered the promise of things to come. North Carolina held the distinction of the first new state, and together with Tennessee  welcomed hikers to the Great Smokey Mountain National Park. The springs were flowing, the air was cool, and everyone was eager to learn about the trail and what it’s all about.

Quarter two? Virginia and West Virginia. While most experience the Virginia blues because of the length of the state, I didn't. Damascus brought back memories of the Creeper trail, Pearisburg meant visiting grandparents and staying in their cabin, and Tera was with me through the Shenandoahs. In fact, the second quarter passed by rather quickly. I had started to find my stride, and so the hiking itself became easier and more efficient. Signing the register at the Appalachian Trail Conservancy in Harpers Ferry was a fitting end to the first half of the journey, and the chance to reflect on the progress I had made was encouraging.

Crossing the Potomac meant the beginning of the third quarter, marked by shorter-mileage states and plenty of large rivers. The beginning moved along smoothly. Maryland was short and flat, a welcome change from miles past. Pennsylvania meant a lot of slacking as I hiked near where my parents live, making the rocks that appeared after I crossed the Susquehanna a bit more bearable.

A swampy section of New Jersey trail

The other side of the Delaware meant more mosquitoes, but New Jersey, like Maryland, was just a small portion of the trail's length.

Things were different with New York. All of a sudden the game changed. Things slowed down.

A view from the east bank of the Hudson

Mental fatigue set in and matched my familiar weariness, and my thinking changed. I found myself faced with the reality that, with less than 800 miles to Katahdin, I had nothing to prove to myself. I had come 1400 miles. What's 800 more? Though it seems strange to measure proximity to a goal in the hundreds of miles, that's exactly what happened. That line of thinking also meant that I thought more than once about retreating to the comforts of home, the comforts that I happen to be enjoying at the moment. Yet I knew that if I stopped I would face regret, shatter a dream, and disappoint many. So I walked on. Reaching the east bank of the Hudson gave me renewed focus. The chance to walk along the Housatonic River in Connecticut was a nice change of pace and provided easy terrain. And Massachusetts, with its bookend peaks of Everett and Greylock, went quickly because of the near-constant threat of mosquitoes.

Now it’s the fourth, and each of its three states holds a distinctive stretch of trail.

Vermont has the Green mountains, which host some of the lushest forest vegetation that I’ve seen on the trail. Vermont also has plenty of mud and introduced deer flies to the trail. I’m happy to say that third is done, but two fourth quarter thirds remain.

New Hampshire holds the Whites which come with steep elevation changes, epic views, and the mountain that is known for the worst weather in the country: Mt. Washington. These mountains have been talked up more than any other stretch of the trail, and so I’m eager to see if their bite equals their bark. Finally there is Maine which boasts plenty of bogs and the hundred-mile wilderness, the secluded runway to its most coveted prize: Katahdin.

With only two thirds of the fourth to go, my excitement is mounting. I can now smile and say I only have two more states (even if Maine is the second-longest on the trail) and less than four hundred miles to walk. The end is clearly in sight.

Hospitality Stinks

Hospitality stinks…quite literally when you’re offering it to a group of hikers. I mean they REALLY stink! Indeed for an entire week, I not only hauled my smelly husband and his smelly gear from trailhead to trailhead, but also 3 other smelly hikers and their smelly gear. The stench was unimaginable. Who would want to offer them rides?

It brought me back to the days when I would walk past the high school football locker room. The only way to survive was to plug your nose and run as quickly as possible past the doors. I was also reminded of the men’s laundry room in the residence hall where I work when hockey team members decided to store their sweaty gear there for the winter. I was able to solve that problem as quickly as possible by having the “higher ups” find an alternative storage room. But what do you do when you’re stuck in a tiny Honda civic with four other hikers after they’ve been hiking and sweating all day?! I didn’t think you had any ideas.

Hospitality isn’t always easy which is perhaps why in 1 Peter 4:9, we are called to offer hospitality without grumbling. There were times when I would have to grin, plug my nose, and bear it even though deep down I was grumbling. But it wasn’t all foul. As the week went on, the hikers shared stories and opened up their lives. Getting to know Shenanigans, Goldilocks, and Havoc was a delight. We laughed, we cried, we cheered one another on. We shared meals, campsites, and even a tiny hotel room for a couple of nights. With their generosity, I was able to hike a few days with Jon. We’ve become friends. So while Jon and I were able to offer hospitality on wheels, they offered so much more in return. I hope our time together was just as much a blessing to them as it was to us.

Take the reverse. Jon and I have been offered hospitality on the trail. Last week, a family friend of Jon’s parents from Massachusetts hauled his camper to a nearby campground and we stayed with him for two nights. He offered us generous hospitality out of the kindness of his own heart. This past weekend, some friends of ours from Albany, NY joined us for a day hike and afterwards allowed us to stay at their home for a couple of nights. Let me tell you, when spending your days on the trail, it is such a treat to sleep on a real bed in an air conditioned house! We have been blessed by others’ hospitality.

Even when it stinks, hospitality is always worth it in the end!

Miles in Mass, Mosquitoes en Masse

The miles in Massachusetts have come packed with a presence. From Bear Mountain, the highest point in Connecticut, you can see Mt. Race rising from the lakes below, and in the distance stands Mt. Everett. Seeing them is one thing, hiking them is quite another. They took some work, especially Everett. The climb quickly brought me back to Jacob’s Ladder, only longer and more rocky. It required scrambling up slab and boulders that blanketed the forty-five degree slope. But once at the top, the resulting views were impressive, especially when considering the relative flatness of the post-Virginia states.

That introduction, unfortunately, was short lived. The mountaintop experience was soon met by a mountain of mosquitoes, and they were fierce. Descending from Everett meant entering the swamps tucked in the hollows of Massachusetts, and these breeding grounds were fertile. As the trail winds through the mud and muck, the mosquitoes swarm. You know it's bad when they bite as you walk; you know it's really bad when you send more than one at a time falling lifeless to the ground with one swat. At times the only way to keep your sanity is to count the squashed. Thwack! Smack! Two skeeters down. Wham! Whack! Whomp! Add three more to the list. Whap! Whop! Whump! Make the tally eight.

The good news in all of this is that the mosquitoes and wet ground also meant bogs, and bogs have characteristic flora that a hiker like me gets excited about. In fact, thriving in these bogs is a plant that I’ve been waiting to see since my days in North Carolina: the pitcher plant. I almost missed it, but in an effort to photograph a yellow water lily, I stumbled across one nestled among some Sphagnum moss on the edge of the open water. I inched out on a rotting log to start the photo shoot. The log soon collapsed under my weight, submerging my shoe in the putrefaction below, but I didn’t care. I got the pitcher picture that had eluded me until now.


Then, just as the state began, Massachusetts ended with another summit, this time the tallest in the state. Mt. Greylock provided a perfect transition into the last quarter of my journey with views of the Green and White Mountains, the next two challenges along the way. From inside Greylock's stone monument, after climbing up a winding stairwell, you could see for miles, even to Boston on a clear day.

 

And just like that tomorrow I tackle the last three states of my Katahdin-bound journey. The end is drawing near.

ECHO ... EcHo ... eChO ... echo

When you yell into the right kind of canyon, your message repeats itself over and over again until it becomes so faint that you can no longer distinguish it from the background noise. A blog is not a canyon, but it can repeat a message; I only hope that what I have to say doesn't become so repetitive that it fades into oblivion, becoming tuned out among the barrage of other messages constantly cast about.

What is that message, exactly? It is that I am doing this hike in honor of my grandparents, who through a financial gift made this trip possible. I have wanted to do this hike for a long time, but there is a big difference between a dreamed idea and an opportunity that catapults that dream into reality. While there were a number of things that had to come together in order for this trip to happen, funding was a significant component.

My gratitude for funding did not stand in isolation. It was closely accompanied by a strong desire to want to give back. I didn't just want to just "take the money and walk," as almost sung by the Steve Miller Band. I wanted to take what I had received and use it as an opportunity to give in return. It didn't take long to think of how: by using this trip as a means to raise money for ECHO, an organization that my grandfather was deeply committed to.

The Educational Concerns for Hunger Organization (ECHO) itself is "dedicated to fighting world hunger through innovative options, agricultural training and networking with community leaders and missionaries in developing countries." In so doing, ECHO "seeks to find sustainable options for families growing food under difficult conditions."

As you participate on this journey with me, please consider supporting ECHO as a way to help support me and my vision for what this hike can accomplish. I'm happy to say that over $200 has already been raised, but I'm hoping that number grows substantially. My goal before I left was $5,000, and so there is still work to be done.

In thinking about what you might want to contribute, there are a few ways that might be helpful. The simplest would be a one-time donation, instructions for which can be found here. Another option would be to give according to my progress. Perhaps you are drawn to the mileage, and want to give ten cents for every mile I hike by journey's end. Or, if you've been a follower of this blog, you would know that I have a commitment to seek and identify as many wildflowers as I can while I walk; maybe your interest is caught by this effort and you would like to give according to my growing list (now over one hundred flowers), say one dollar per flower.

Three of the flowers I have encountered on my walk:

Spotted Jewelweed

Butter and Eggs

Field Speedwell

Regardless of how you might think about giving, I at the very least ask that you would consider it, not just for my sake but for the lives that will be improved by ECHO's dedication to fighting hunger.