Frank Intro

40 DAYS IN THE WILDERNESS Today, early May, in Indiana, is my 40th day on the road. Is something supposed to happen now? I did once visit the place where someone with a capital 'S' spent forty days in the wilderness. But then I was in an air-conditioned bus, and the evening I spent in a four-star hotel in Jerusalem. Oh, to be a travel agent again! No such luxuries here - not for me anyway. My forty days have not made me any wiser: I'm still going on with the walk. So many of you have been kind to wish me luck, and asked to be kept informed, that I will do an occasional report. Access to the internet is not easy here. I call into a public library occasionally, but some of them do not allow e-mailing for fear of viruses. So this report comes to you the long way round, via Norwich where Imogen will process it and see to the distribution of it. Forty days. It doesn't seem that long somehow, yet it is already much further than the Camino. I have only the vaguest idea of the distance covered: my guess is around 700 miles. I don't think at all of the distance still to be covered. I am keeping diary notes, but most of those have already been posted back to Upton. Anyway, this report is not intended as a step by step account of the walk. That will come in due course. This is a summary of what I've done so far, with perhaps a few comments. We started walking from Washington on Tuesday 27th March. I had chosen that time to be in Washington to see the famous flowering cherry trees. We saw the trees - and the magnolias - but there was a severe cold snap, and all we saw were the tightly closed buds. We spent Monday shivering our way round the many monuments, and set off the next day along the C and O Canal, just a mile or two from the White House. The Chesapeake and Ohio Canal runs for about 170 miles, and was constructed in the 1830's. It follows the course of the Potomac River, which was not navigable. Most of the canal is not now watered, but the towpath is well maintained; in fact the whole length of the canal is a Federal Historic Park. There are basic campsites at regular intervals, and the walking is easy. Over the entire length, the elevation is only some 600 feet. It is difficult - even for me - to lose your way. Three days out of Washington we walked into Harpers Ferry; where John Brown (he of the smouldering soul) tried to start a slave rebellion in 1858. We spent two nights at a hotel here, in the company of some two hundred members of the dulcimer society of America. Harpers Ferry is where the Shenandoah and Potomac rivers meet. The steep foothills of the Appalachian Mountains begin to crowd in on the path. The canal is like a long ribbon of nature reserve. We saw lots of deer, beavers, a few snakes, and many birds. The cold weather stayed with us for a few days; on our first night under canvas, our water bottles froze solid. The C and O is a misnomer. It does not run as far as the Ohio River. There is a good reason for this. At Cumberland, where the canal ends, you look up at the mountains of West Virginia. This was our first hurdle, not made easier by both of us suffering from sore feet. Alex and I are both experienced walkers, but within days of starting, we both had major blisters. It may have been the heavy packs we were carrying, or the gravel we walked in; whatever the cause, we were very uncomfortable, and it always took an effort to start walking again. West Virginia is called the Mountain State. In fact, the stretch that we walked wasn't too bad. The highest passes were about 3000 feet; but there were many ups and downs of a 1000 feet or more. The Appalachians are heavily wooded here, but because of the late spring, the trees were still dark and bare. We camped out most nights, on farm fields or in the forest. One morning we were told that the wood we had slept in was home to several large bears. The weather turned warm, up to about 80, as we laboured up and down the passes, but we managed still to do about twenty miles per day. This was backwards country; very small towns, with usually just a combined gas station and general store. Very friendly people. We got over the mountains to Clarksburg in about a week. Our feet were still sore, and my companion had had enough. He caught a Greyhound out and flew home. On my own now, I walked along a rail trail for three days, which took me to Parkersburg where I crossed the Ohio River. I have a choice of routes for my walk. There is the American Discovery Trail, a combination of Wilderness trails, back roads, rail trails etc. Then there is the US 50, an old two-lane highway, which was once the main artery across the whole country, and is now a fairly quiet road passing through old and forgotten towns. The trouble with the ADT is that it goes out of it's way to be difficult, and often needs food and water to be carried for long stretches. In total it would add some 1000 miles to my trip. The 50 runs more or less straight, and is easier for someone with my poor navigation skills. Whenever I can I use quiet back roads running parallel to the 50, cutting back to it for food and water at regular intervals. It took me twelve days to cross Ohio. For the first five days I was still in the foothills; then the country opens out into wide farming valleys where they were drilling maize, wheat and soya beans. Some nice towns; Athens with it's university, Chillicothe, Hillsboro. Most of these places now have a dead centre, the shopping having gone out to the malls. A great pity, but then this is the country of the automobile. I spent two nights a Hillsboro nursing a very swollen left foot, but after that things started to heal. Cincinnati, at the Western end of Ohio, was my first big town. I am glad there are not many more to come. It took hours to slog into it, and the best part of a day to get out of it; and believe me, the town was not worth it. They had had race riots a week or two earlier. The motel I stayed in was in a poor black area, which was an interesting experience. Not that I had a problem. In fact, in spite of various misgivings about Americans, and safety, I must say that I have met only friendly people all along my route so far. People are interested in what I am doing. I have lost count of all the free coffee I have been bought; even a few meals. The route I am on passes mainly through small towns, often so small that even McDonalds is not interested in them. I have had a few hamburgers here and there, but it is still possible to eat at the Kosy Kafe, and have biscuits and gravy, or catfish and mashed potato and greens. I have lost weight, of course, but I am eating well. Once or twice I have had a beer in the evening and wished I hadn't. Americans may be able to send people into space, but they don't understand the basics of life on Earth, such as a good pint of real ale. Bread is invariably awful. But the coffee is good, and it keeps on coming. So now I am in Southern Indiana. Open, undulating farm country, with every so often a ridge of wooded hills to get across. The heat is on. Everybody says it is un-seasonal, and I read in the papers that they are short of rain. I camp out most nights, farmers are happy to let me put up my tent for the night. Occasionally I sleep on the edge of a forest. After a few days of this, however, you begin to notice yourself as you climb out of your sleeping bag. This is when you decide to have a night in a motel. I go for the small, privately owned ones when I can. My equipment is holding out well. The Dutch backpack, although at times it seems to weigh a ton, is comfortable. The heels of my boots are wearing down, I will need a new pair before long. There are a few more days in Indiana, then I go into Illinois. I hope the weather cools down a bit, but it doesn't look as if it will. A good preparation for later on, in Kansas, not to mention Utah and Nevada. I manage about twenty miles a day, with frequent stops. My time frame is reduced to one or two days at the most. I never really think about the many miles still ahead of me. So, the sun is still shining on the righteous - and on me. America is beautiful. Here's to the next forty days.