I Prefer Dessert : A Preview of Nevada

Many travelers have entered Nevada in the past only to leave with their dignity stripped and their wallets empty. Gambling, whores, alcohol, and other vices too vile to mention (meet me in the secret blog chamber for further discussion) are the norm in America's modern version of Sodom and Gomorrah. Somehow many visitors leave satisfied and come back time and again. For these degenerates, swilling a beer while spinning the roulette wheel at 8:30 in the morning is an acceptable way of life. There's just no accounting for taste.
I'll be skipping these questionable activities for the most part, as my hike through Nevada does not include the flashy lights and gauche architecture of Las Vegas or the tacky charm of Reno, the biggest little city hosting a show about ineffective law enforcement.
Instead, my highlights will include the bustling berg of Ely, desert, some infinitesimal towns, desert, more desert, and finally Virginia City, Carson City, and Lake Tahoe. I imagine I'll be ducking my head in the cold waters of Tahoe for some time if fate allows me so far down the trail. I do plan on visiting a little place in Virginia City called the Bucket of Blood so don't bet on me.
Without question, as with Utah, attaining water is the greatest difficulty I should face in Nevada. No state has less rainfall, so natural sources are rare to non-existent. People are even rarer in this section, so there won't be a lot of houses where I can beg for liquid refreshment. Did I mention the temperatures can reach the 120s? A dry heat, so I'm sure that won't be any problem. My mother has promised to help through part of this stretch and God bless her for doing so, Nevada during high summer is not exactly a prime vacation destination.
There are fourteen different mountain ranges in Nevada, so I can hope the increased altitude will ease the heat in some spots. Hopefully I can finish the five hundred miles of trail without mimicking the Wicked Witch's last line in "The Wizard of Oz."

Next time we'll theoretically finish this thing in California.

Thanks to recent donors:
Dot Bishop
John Byrd
Karen Lawton

Part Two Preview: The Third in a Five Part Trilogy

A wise man once said, don't defecate where you masticate. He certainly overdid it with the high falutin wordplay, but his point is well-taken. So if you think I'm going to spend the third part in our series, a preview of Utah, making fun of Mormons you are incorrect. I plan on living through the harsh desert landscape the place presents and I'll take all the friends I can get. Besides, one of the joys of this trip has been the opportunity to learn about different people I am ignorant about. I've only met one Mormon to date and since he was drunk on most of the occasions we enjoyed one anothers' presence I'm guessing he had lapsed a bit.
Enough about my friend's substance abuse problems, let's talk about our next state. Utah is a wonderland of canyons and unique rock formations which illustrate just what God can do when provided with a new Lego set and several million years of erosion. The feast for the eyes should leave them sated, but unfortunately the rest of my body requires water, which the land there lacks in abundance. Cities are few and far between in the area of Utah the ADT passes through so I can't always count on human kindness. I have a couple of ideas about how to work past the problem, so hopefully these plans germinate and flower before I find myself a dry mass of bones mimicking the nearby rock piles.
The first dry spot comes quickly, west of Grand Junction/Fruita, even before setting foot in the Beehive State. The next one hundred miles to Moab will be a lesson in isolation, the kind of open space I have not dealt with previously. Should I forge through a great reward waits on the other side: the famous Arches National Park. I've heard good things. The picture up top is but one example of what I can expect if you think to doubt the word of these unnamed people. Like Donnie Brasco told Lefty Ruggiero: "Just trust me." Or something to that effect.
After Arches the ADT heads directly south. I am considering an alternative plan for this part of Utah, but since I may yet be swayed to stay on the original route, we won't get into where I am going exactly. Either way, the central part will be the most populated and I will gladly name a host of tiny places you have never heard of if you like. Salt Lake, Provo, Orem, or any other remotely city-like spot in Utah will not be no the agenda.
I am hoping also to revisit Bryce Canyon, which is not too far off my intended trajectory. My family went there when I was only ten and made some good memories. I rode a mule which insisted on walking on the side of the path where the 4,000 foot drop was. Pebbles dislodged by the animal's hooves fell down the interminable drop and I began screaming and wailing, begging to be allowed to dismount. My cries didn't stop until hours later when I either learned bravery and became a man or lost my voice.
I guess it would be cool to end up back there and perhaps acquit myself more honorably. At the very least the staying power of my screams has dimmed with age.
Bookending the western section of Utah is yet another waterless and peopleless section, known as the Wah Wah desert. Before I can escape the claws of dehydration and heat (did I mention I am most likely doing this bit in August?) I will cross the Nevada border. Therefore we'll have to save the excitement of more desert monotony for our next episode, entitled Walking Across the Face of the Sun Gives Me Blisters.

A special thanks to Nicole Overholt for accompanying me on many a practice hike so far!

Westward No

June 28: Before leaving North Bend this morning I paid another visit to William Henry Harrison's tomb to learn more about America's fastest dying president. Harrison bit the big one after only one month in office, contracting pneumonia during a lengthy and rambling inauguration speech given in the rain. Only the constitutionally challenged one, Alexander "I'm in Charge" Haig, can claim a shorter reign.
Since he didn't have enough time in office to actually accomplish anything, Harrison's main contribution to the presidency comes from his campaign. The battle of 1840 between he and Martin Van Buren is considered the first modern presidential race.
Harrison's handlers defined him as a hard-drinking frontiersman who resided in a rustic log cabin. E.C. Booz, from whom the word booze is derived, distilled a special brand of whiskey, Log Cabin, just for the campaign. In actuality, the candidate rarely drank and lived in a mansion. Much like the "man of the people" millionaires involved in politics today I daresay.
Once I shook my torpor I made quick time to Elizabethtown. Here the America Discovery Trail splits into north and south sections, beginning a period of frustration for me. Instead of stabbing westward, I will be spending the next few days going north, with the Indiana border taunting me just miles to the east the whole way.
I finished just a small portion of that section today, for early in the afternoon I had an appointment with Dawn, a friend of my mother's whose husband is an officer currently serving in Iraq. She picked me up promptly and took me back to her home in Indianapolis.
On the way we swung by the picturesque little town of Oldenburg. Oldenburg was originally settled almost exclusively by German immigrants and evidence of those roots are omnipresent there. Most noticeably, all the street signs are in both German and English. The main feature of the town is a huge Franciscan nunnery, one of the largest in the nation. "Sister Act III" would have been filmed there, but thanks to the prayerful intercession of the Oldenburg nuns that crisis was averted and no such film was produced.
After a quick trip to see Dawn's daughter Sarah's mad riding skills and a swing by their house to alleviate my stench somewhat, we headed into Indy. The famous racetrack was our first destination and I posed in front of the Indianapolis 500 Hall of Fame, wondering what it was like for Mario and Luigi Andretti to kiss the bricks and drink a pasteurized dairy product.
Dawn took me next to the center of downtown, whose growth has exploded in recent years. I saw Lucas Oil Stadium (host of the 2012 Super Bowl), Conseco Fieldhouse, NCAA headquarters, and the Indiana State Museum.
Most appropriately, we visited the Medal of Honor Recipients Memorial, which sits astride a lovely canal across from the NCAA offices. Every individual who has earned the medal is listed here and you can learn the story of each soldier's heroism on a computer kiosk located at the site.
For dinner we continued the German tradition in Indiana by dropping in at Rathskeller, a biergarten of the highest order, at least to my uninitiated American eyes.
Rathskeller provided us with terrific beer, incredible food, and a great name for my next heavy metal band. I imbibed an Arrogant Bastard Ale and dined on a wurst platter and chicken cordon blue fingers. The spicy mustard served with the sausages shot through my nostrils like dragon's flame - not at all an unpleasant sensation. Overall the meal hit the bull's eye and, along with Dawn's enthusiastic and affable company, put a fine exclamation point on my day in Indianapolis.

9 miles/844 miles total

Natty Light

June 25: I'm closing in on the city of Cincinnati right now and if I haven't mentioned this before, a really long time has passed since I have seen anything much more than a village. I'm suffering a bit from culture shock as a result. Usually I have only one or two restaurants to choose from - having forty choices is pretty much blowing my mind. I also don't have to stop at every single one if I am to have a chance at hot food for the day. Therefore, I walked right past all the breakfast possibilities in Batavia and was on my way out of town when a trail angel appeared before me.
Jamie was her name and she operates the Riverside Coffee Mill, which lay a block off of my route. She offered me some free waffles and tried to help me with my search for a cheaper lodging option in Mariemont, the day's destination. Her suggestion was that I try Dilly Deli, a restaurant hangout where I might run into a number of camper friendly hippie types. Although her stereotype of their customer base ended up being dead wrong, her recommendation ended up fitting the bill. Why? You'll have to stay tuned until the end of the episode. Now some commercials...
Thanks for staying with us through another ten minutes of cavemen selling life insurance humor, I'm sure that bit hasn't grown at all stale. My wanderings have brought me back onto the Buckeye and ADT trail, so I can give a couple pieces of advice to those of you who may be so foolish as to follow in my footsteps.
1) Ross Road is not really a road if you are coming from the east, but rather a mostly clear grass path that occasionally boasts a slice of old tarmac. Compared to most off-road parts of the Buckeye Trail, however, this trail/street rates an A+.
2) Round Bottom Road should be avoided if another way exists. There is no shoulder and I did not feel very safe walking here. I passed about ten thousand bicycles, though, so I may be alone in that assessment.
Since I am not writing this piece from beyond the grave, you can rest assured I did indeed survive these trials and arrive in the town of Milford. I was starved and stopped at the first place I found, MJs. This decision turned out to partially be a mistake as the food was terrifically over-priced and the portions skimpy. I do admit that the bison burger (more like a slider) I had was absolutely mouth-watering, the curry mustard a revelation, and the chocolate cake to die for, but I am still hungry.
The afternoon was consumed hiking the Little Miami Scenic Trail to Mariemont. I was amazed to see so many other folks walking and biking after having seen about two people exercising for the last month. The trail is not exceptionally scenic despite the name, but it was a great way to avoid the busy roads of outer Cincinnati. Plans are underway to expand the path all the way downtown in coming years.
I arrived in Mariemont about four and ran into a man named Dan who offered me the shade of his porch and some road money while telling me a little bit about the town. Mariemont was once a village where everyone knew all the other inhabitants, but Cincinnati has slowly encroached and engulfed the place, changing the makeup of Mariemont into the prototypical bedroom community.
After an hour of chit-chat I headed over to the center of Mariemont, where the Dilly Deli is located. I didn't find any hippies there, but I did find a battalion of friendly fellows. No sooner had I sat at my table than I was doing a press conference about the walk and the Wounded Warrior Project.
Fortunately, my media relations skills have improved since I gave that "Diddly Poo" rant when I was coaching the New Orleans Saints. I gave out several cards and had numerous promises of future donations. One young couple was nice enough to cover my meal. The waiter, Harold, was extremely helpful and affable. Through his hard work I was introduced to Tom and Jan, who offered to let me camp in their back yard for the evening.
Tom possesses one of the premier collections of fire marks in the United States. Fire marks are plaques insurance companies placed on homes or businesses that had coverage with them. The early ones were made out of wood and the later ones composed of various metals. Some date back as far as the 1750s, when Philadlephia native Ben Franklin is said to have founded the first fire insurance company in the colonies.
There were no worries of fire this night. A steady rain fell soon after I tucked myself in to sleep. After eighteen miles the odometer reads 810.

Spell Chek and Other Stories

June 13: Today started spectacularly, with visits to Cedar Falls and then Ash Cave. I unknowingly had gone around Old Man's Cave yesterday when yet another untended Buckeye Trail caused me to change my route, but perhaps we can go back when my brother and mother visit this weekend.
Cedar Falls is a "small" cataract, but a visually impressive one. The falls are named after the nearby cedars, which are actually hemlocks, by someone who probably shouldn't be allowed to get to name stuff. His son Pizza Jesus Santa is said to agree with the previous statement.
The water from the falls runs over the cliff's edge in one stream until reaching a nose-like protuberance which rises up snobbishly to split the flow in twain. Just before crashing into the pool below, the water reunites and it feels so good, Reunite and its understood.
The site of Ash Cave also possesses a waterfall, although this one is a study in the beauty of minimalism. Falling in barely more than a trickle, the water is dwarfed by the magnificent geology surrounding it. Cliffs ninety feet high and one hundred and seventy feet around make a semi-circle that contain the waterfall, whose volume fails to even fill the reservoir beneath. Ash Cave was named thus because of the piles of ashes left by centuries of bonfires lit there by the local Native Americans and not after the protagonist in the "Evil Dead" series.
I left Ash Cave and Hocking Hills to find the usual back roads awaiting me. Less mundane were some of the photo ops I was presented with over the next few hours. Since I still have no functioning camera (one more week without) the written word will have to suffice.
1. A yard whose trees were decorated with empty Pabst cans. Who can blame this guy for wanting to be festive year round.
2. A sign reading "Priate Keep Out." I wonder what the fellow has against poor Priate.
3. The gravestone of a man nicknamed "Boob." Theories as to the origin of the name:
A) He was a big fan of the female form.
B) He wasn't very smart.
C) His death was related to a combination of a and b.
The humor drained out of the hike at my next trail, which evolved from a well-cared for entrance into a jungle of vines and thick undergrowth. Thorns pricked at my legs incessantly, I feel like I have been worked over by a cheese grater.
Eventually I escaped the "Little Shop of Horrors" scenario and got back on the country roads. At seven I arrived at the Lebanon Church and called it quits. The comic spirit kept right on giving until the end.
4. The sign in front of the church read Lebanon Coummity Church. The n's in Lebanon were backwards of course.
Eighteen meandering miles seem to have gotten me nowhere geographically. Regardless, I stand at 659 for the moment.

The Breaking of the Fellowship

I endured a vicious thunderstorm last night and rain threatened to reign for the majority of the day. When the downpour ceased Swagman and I rushed to pack up and shuffled the short distance to Oldtown, Maryland to dry out and fill our faces with feed.
The only restaurant in town is the Schoolhouse Kitchen, located in, yes, you guessed it, a former schoolhouse. The place had ended decades as a source for the educational needs of the young back in 2000, likely due to a lack of students. I deduced this fact from the senior class photos that lined the wall, which included just a few individuals in the later years.
After lunch and a short rest I shook hands and parted ways with Swagman. I have benefited greatly from his experience and his knowledge of the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal. I will miss the company most of all, though.
I crossed the Potomac into West Virginia and began the trudge to Fort Ashby. Rain dogged me nearly the whole way. The state had only three dry days in April and has had only one in May, according to our waitress in Paw Paw yesterday.
I wasn't sure whether to feel welcome or not, the locals sent mixed messages with such signs as "Jesus Loves You Way" and "if you can read this sign you are in range."
I also had my first run in with the state's wacky road numbering. I walked for awhile on road 1/3. The fraction seems, at least from my first experience, to indicate the amount of cars one sees in an average hour. The number was about right in this instance as I walked three hours and saw only one car there. The ADT has many signs here so far - if that continues at least navigation here will be a breeze (famous last words).
I landed in Fort Ashby around five and had a nice meal at the Town Kitchen, where I discussed the Wounded Warrior Project with two sisters. I gave them my card and they were so kind as to pay for my meal. Their kind act nearly had me in tears (fatigue makes me emotional okay :).
Fort Ashby was originally (surprise!) a fort, one of 69 Colonel George Washington had built in 1755 to protect the area from hostile Indians. Mr. Washington was a common theme this day, as he is said to have regularly visited a man named Joseph Cresap and slept at his house while in Oldtown. Oh, and by the way, Fort Ashby is the only one of those 69 forts still standing.
I managed fourteen miles today and have reached the 300 mile mark for my journey. Only a few thousand miles left to go :)

14 miles/287 total miles

The Final Countdown

Final countdown time has come for me, with little over a week before my departure. I figured that a picture of the water tower along my regular walking route might be a fitting piece of Americana to symbolize that impending departure onto the roads spanning our great land. I want to thank Jimbob and Leah for adding a bit of flair as well as a smattering of class to the Rutherford Road tower's original design. I just hope Jimbob's passion resulted in the loving bonds of matrimony rather than the waiting embrace of a police car after the issuance of a restraining order by Leah's family.
Speaking of H2O, I finally purchased a water filter for the trip today. My procrastination was ended after I listened to a friend from my softball team painstaking tell of his own experience with a bout of giardia. I do not care to partake myself.
People are beginning to take notice of my wandering ambulations through the nether regions between Taylors and Greenville. Our local UPS driver stopped by me this afternoon and asked how far I would be walking today. Maybe I could convince his superiors to have trucks come and carry my pack to where I plan to stop for the day - it sure would be helpful not have to lug the heavy thing around. Hey, I promised to walk across the country, I didn't say my dirty T-shirts were going to go every little bitty step of the way with me.
I want to thank Brady Gilbert and the Traveler's Rest Area Business Association for allowing me to talk to them during their luncheon on Tuesday. Although I gave one of the more bumbling speeches in the history of oratory they treated me wonderfully and I met a great group of people who I hope will be tagging along with me on the journey - at least virtually.
I will be out of Greenville this weekend attending nuptials on Edisto Island for the delightful Dan Hastings and the fetching Brianna Rabon, but if anyone would like to join me for a sending off I will be out at the Irish Pub on Sunday evening, please come visit - everyone is welcome to smash champagne bottles against my head like they do with new ships before their inaugural passage.
I leave you now with a lovely rendition of "the Final Countdown" by Europe, a band that would begin and end their shows with that same tune, their one hit. Most critics lambasted the 80s hair band powerhouse for using such a set list strategy. These nitpickers would say that the band was admitting they had no other powerfully moving songs in their repertoire. I say no to these accusations. Rather Europe was defying convention by doing something that no other band was willing to do. Maybe we have something in common.

Trail Card

The business cards I made for the walk are now ready. Thanks so much to Kevin Yee who helped put them together for me. Please excuse the photo, which does not do justice to Mr. Yee's graphic artistry. If you'd like to check out more of his work, go to his website here.
I also bought my first swimmer's towel today, which is a tiny, light-weight rubbery thing that absorbs tons of water. Once the water has become one with the towel just squeeze and the H2O wrings right out. Repeat this process until you have reached the requisite level of dryness.
Wrapping up today's successes, I also purchased another Dri-Fit t-shirt, a micro-fiber shirt supposedly designed to wick moisture. I don't have a clue what that has to do with a candle, but the thing theoretically keeps you dry when you sweat like the pig from "Charlotte's Web" after the farmer came around the bend mumbling something about bacon for breakfast.

FAQ Answered by an Idiot

Since I announced my intention to walk across the United States I have had to answer a lot of the same questions. What's wrong with you? Why don't you take a bike instead? Isn't that dangerous? When did you go insane? Those are just a few examples. I thought I would try to use the space here to respond to as many people as possible at one time so I can avoid having the same conversation over and over and so you can avoid the distasteful experience of having to talk with me at all.

Why walk across the US?
A short question, but one with a complicated answer. To clear my head. To raise money for the Wounded Warrior Foundation as well as spreading awareness of the organization. To experience our country in an unique manner. To play a more realistic version of "Frogger." Hopefully I am more successful at the game than this fellow. You'll notice the "Frogger" incident happened only a few miles down the road from where I live, so let's add one more: to get out of a state where so many people seem to be that crazy.

Why the Wounded Warrior Foundation?
My good friend Ken was struck by a RPG while doing his third tour in Afghanistan several years back and lost his left arm and his left eye. He also sustained numerous lacerations to his body. He wants everyone to know, however, that his gentleman's region was completely unharmed.
On a serious note, which I will try to sustain for virtually a whole paragraph against my baser instincts, the Wounded Warrior Foundation has helped Ken a great deal since then by sending him to the Super Bowl, Butch Harmon's golf academy (Tiger Woods instructor back when he was good), and an MLS game where his young son was chosen to take the ceremonial kickoff. All of these events brought joy to Ken and helped take his mind off the suffering he was undergoing because of his grievous injuries. I think of the Wounded Warrior Project as sort of a Make-a-Wish Foundation for injured veterans. The organization provides many more services though, including counseling. Click here to check out their website and learn more about the charity's mission and goals.
I've picked a very difficult task out for myself that I may not be able to complete, but I don't want to let my friend down and hopefully that will help to propel me during the hardest of days.


When will you leave as we tire of your presence?
I have promised to attend a friend's wedding on April 19, so I will be leaving to start my journey early the following week. In a perfect world I would start earlier, but I try to keep my commitments and the wedding will be a lot of fun too so don't feel too sorry for me until I am trapped under two feet of snow in the Rockies because I began too late.

Are you just going to walk down a highway?
No, I will be using the America Discovery Trail, which starts in Delaware and finishes in California. The trail splits into two paths in Indiana with the two trails coming back together in Denver. I will be taking the Northern route. Click here to check out the route. Click on state names to get a better idea of the exact route.

What kind of shape are you in right now?
Not good enough. I am currently training to get up to an average of twenty miles a day, about what I have to maintain to finish the trip before I die of old age. I also have to get used to carrying a heavy pack every day, something I have been working on as well. Anyone interested in going on a long hike please contact me - you can choose the venue and I will carry all that we need in my pack while you hike in comfort, unencumbered by a pack of your own as your mule does the hard work.

Where will you stay?
Obviously since I am trying to raise money for charity I will try to spend as little as possible, staying in campgrounds, shelters, or friends' homes whenever possible. In many of the big cities I will have no choice but to stay in a hotel on occasion. If you know of anyone who can put me up along the way, even if its just a yard to put my tent in please let me know.

Can I join you?
Of course, I'm not on a one man suicide mission so any rats who want to follow this Pied Piper are more than welcome, I would love some company. I have already had a few offers from several people to do part of the trail with me.

Could you ride a bike instead?
Please see the last couple words of the title then return for the following sentence.
The ADT can be ridden by bicycle and even horse in most places, but I don't own either so I'll just have to go with the two feet I am already in possession of right now.

How can I help?
Any of five ways: 1) Sponsor Me: I'm probably going to need about $4800 dollars (I'm lowering the amount as donations come in if you are wondering about the odd figure) in addition to the money I have saved up to pay for hotels, campground fees, food, etc along the way. Any help would be greatly appreciated. Whatever I do not use from you or your company's sponsorship will go to the Wounded Warrior Project. Even just a few dollars would be of huge assistance. Contact me at alastair81@aol.com so we can make arrangements.
2) Make a donation to the Wounded Warrior Project. I have set up a page at First Giving. Just click here and follow the simple instructions. All donations to the WWP are tax deductible according to their website. Contact me at alastair81@aol.com if you have any questions. I recommend making a pledge to donate a certain amount, say $10, $25, or $50 for each state I complete (there are 12 in total) and a bonus pledge for my arrival at the Pacific.
3) Materials: I still need to purchase some of the things I will need for the trip so if anyone has anything they can donate to the cause please let me know. I am without a water bottle with filter, swimmer's towel, pedometer, and probably some things I don't even know I should have.
4) Shelter: If you know anyone who can put me up during my walk I would greatly appreciate any help. Free lodging means more of the money you use to sponsor me goes to the WWP. See above for the trail map if you are unsure where my travels will be taking me.
5) Advice: The process of planning for this trip is complex and there are no doubt elements that I have overlooked, please do not hesitate to put in your two cents in regard to all aspects of the hike and fund-raising.

That's all for now, but I'm sure I will be answering some other questions here in the near future so check for updates. I will also be posting short updates on my travels on Facebook and longer diary entries here at the blog whenever I have computer access.