Homecoming

Day 4.  I got up around 6 a.m. feeling refreshed after a good night sleep on a real bed.  Dori made me poached eggs on toast, yum yum.  She had also laundered the clothes I was wearing (I know, the royal treatment) so I had on something fresh. I needed this because I had ditched my change of clothes on the morning of the second day when I did a re-org to lighten the load.  I had also left behind the Clearasil, the makeup, the pack of gum (I took 2 pieces), the 3 cough drops (popped one as a snack).  Yes, I said no bringing any food, but I thought that was an acceptable cheat :).  I also left behind my Nalgene water bottle and opted to keep the lighter weight empty spring water bottle for fill ups instead. This shaved off about 12 oz.

I set out from Dori’s house at 7 a.m.  It was a cold and overcast morning with temperature in the 40s.  Oh, I also need to mention that I was 7 miles further along on my walk than the supermarket where Dori had picked me up from.  I thought about going all stickler about it and somehow return to the Big Y where I was picked up.  But in the end, I decided it was an act of fate.  She could have easily lived in the other direction and made the walk longer.  I accepted my good fortune as a gift.

From West Brookfield, I headed to Ware on Route 9, about 7 miles away.  A few miles into my journey, I realized I was in for a treat.  Route 9 is a major throughway.  The road had narrowed to one lane on each side going through some mountainous terrain.  The shoulders on either side were about a foot and a half wide.  This normally wouldn’t have been a problem, as I could dodge the cars by hopping on the grass when they get close.  But in the hilly terrain, frequently there are metal guard rails along the side which give me nowhere to go.  What makes it extra hard is that there is a decent amount of traffic on the road careening at 45 to 55 miles an hour.  When there is a string of cars coming, the car behind the first one has a hidden view and the driver has a short response time after they see me.  On top of that, the road was very windy.  Every left turn creates a blind spot for the on-coming traffic (I walk against traffic on the left side of the road). 

I have to admit that I didn’t like the situation I was in.  This is the first time on my trip when I felt I was in actual danger.  Sure, sleeping outdoors and knocking on stranger’s doors felt scary but I was still in control to a large degree.  This, on the other hand, was a different story.  The cars zooming by me seemed like unfeeling instruments of death.  This is when I realized that I would much rather place my bets with human nature than driving skills.  During the next hour, I paid careful attention and switched sides before blind turns and carefully managed my risk.

Then, I came across this stretch that just seemed impossible.  The road was taking a sharp left turn downhill.  The left side of the road was delineated by a steep hill going straight up and the right side was lined by a guard rail.  The shoulders on either side were all but non-existent.  I was forced to choose between a rock and a hard place.  I stood in place and considered my options.  I thought about turning back, but I was over halfway to Ware, and going back now would mean facing an equal amount of car dodging if not more.  I thought about it a little more and came up with a plan.  I waited until I couldn’t hear any traffic coming from either side and did a mad dash down the hill.  Even though the distance couldn’t have been more than the length of a football field, it felt like an eternity.

After another fifteen minutes or so of playing Frogger with traffic, an SUV pulled up next to me. Sitting in the car was a woman in her, oh, later thirties.  She rolled down her window and asked me if I needed a ride.  She was wearing a nurse’s uniform (Dori had been a nurse too.  Ah, the life saving profession).  That’s all the confirmation I needed before I dove in her car.

Her name was Denise.  She said that she saw me walking along the road dodging cars and just had to turn around and ask.  I was extremely grateful.  I know I was supposed to walk the 100 miles.  In fact, I had refused numerous offers for rides along the way, many came when it was raining outside.  I guess people felt sorry for me.  I would thank them and wave them on their way.  But this one was different.  I wanted to come home in one piece rather than stick to technicalities and pay for it with my life.

Two miles down the road, we were at the town of Ware.  Denise told me the road from there would be much better and I was relieved to hear that.  We sat and chatted a little longer.  I told her about my challenge and gave her one of my cards.  She was mother goose and didn’t want to let me go.  She told me to call her tonight from wherever I ended up and she would come pick me up and take me back to her house and drop me off where I was the next morning. I was amazed at the length she would go through for a complete stranger she’d just met. She made me promise that I would call if I needed help before she let me go.

I was on my way again and indeed, the road eased up. An hour later, someone in an SUV stopped on the other side of the road and called out my name. I was confused when I didn’t recognize the man driving. A second later, Denise bounded out the passenger side door. She ran across the road with a bag of food. She said she didn’t realize that I was doing this with no money and no food either and wanted to make sure I wasn’t starving. I was speechless. She tried to give me money too but I was able to push it away. I gave her another big hug, waved goodbye to her and her family and pressed on, feeling all warm and fuzzy.

I made good time and next thing you know I was near the Quabbin Reservoir. For those of you who don’t know, that’s where all the drinking water of Boston comes from. I veered off of Route 9 onto Winsor Dam Road which connected to Blue Meadow. Together they run next to the Reservoir parallel to Route 9. It didn’t add any extra miles to the journey and provided breathtaking views.

Three quarter ways in, I came along a dead end. What the?? I consulted the GPS, indeed, Blue Meadow Rd connects back to Route 9 on the map. But that doesn’t change the reality of the fact that I’m staring into the woods. There was a ranger station near by. I waved down the man coming out of the truck in uniform and asked about the road. He laughed and said, “Oh, that road hasn’t been open since the 90’s. And oh, BTW, you are not even supposed to be here.” Security around the Quabbin has been tight ever since 9-11. I explained to him my situation and was just about resigned to go back when he told me that well, you can go through the woods for a quarter of a mile and the road will pick back up on the other side. What?? Really?? He said considering I’m doing this for charity and all, he will make an exception.

Before I took off, he warned me to check for ticks on the other side. Apparently, the woods at Quabbin is full of them. He said there is no sense contracting Lyme Disease. I definitely took it to heart. A friend of mine had contracted it while mountain biking and he had to lay in bed for a whole year.   Rather than the Tom’s I was wearing, I put my hiking boots back on even though they hurt my feet. I figured a little pain is worth the extra protection they gave. I strapped my backpack on tight and ran through that quarter mile of tall grass in record speed.

I arrived in Belchertown at 2 p.m. After consulting my GPS, I realized Northampton is just 14 miles away. I had been walking straight through since 7am and gotten here quicker than I thought.   I had done 16 Miles today already (not counting the 2 with Denise). I had been averaging 20 miles a day before this, but that’s with a full pack. Now that the end was in sight, I felt homesick. I just wanted to get back to my family. I decided to go all out and push to the finish. Little did I know then that the 14 miles will turn out to be 17 miles instead.

For the last push, I went for it Ernest Shackleton style. He is an Antarctic Explorer famous for his minimalist packing in favor of speed over preparation. I put my cell phone, driver’s license, and blister tape in my pocket and ditched my backpack at the Belchertown McDonalds. After explaining what I’m doing, Julie, the manager was rooting for me to finish too

My plan was to go up Route 9 and cut left onto Bay Road which should take me all the way into Northampton. After an hour’s walk and finally getting to Bay Road, I changed my mind. It was narrow and windy and I didn’t want a repeat of my harrowing experience on Route 9 earlier. I decided to push further north and pick up the rail trail/bike path instead which, even though will add another 4 miles, will take me to Northampton in a traffic free manner. Plus, if the walk ends up taking longer, I don’t want to be stuck on the road walking in the dark.

I walked, walked, and walked on the interminable bike path. It was monotonous and never ending. The day was cold and overcast. There was virtually no traffic on it. For the first four miles, I only spotted a single biker on the path. I was thankful to at least be out of the traffic for once. I got another blister at some point, congratulated myself in bringing along the tape, taped it up and continued on my way. I was single mindedly determined to finish tonight and the walk took on a feverish military quality. I felt an urgency I couldn’t explain.

After three hours of walking, I was entering Amherst and suddenly saw this sign dead in my track. You must be kidding me!

I was beside myself. But I relaxed. No matter, I climbed north some more up to Route 9. Oh, my favorite highway of death, how I love thee. Even though I’ve always sneered at the un-aesthetic nature of the road back when I lived in Amherst – two lane highway with strip malls on either side. Now I see it with a fresh set of eyes. With the generous five-foot shoulders on either side, it seemed like a welcome home.   I walked with a big grin on my face. I must have seemed like a lunatic to the cars zooming by.

The home stretch from Amherst to Northampton did seem interminable. When I finally got into downtown Northampton at 8 p.m., I was exhausted and elated. My friend Andy came to pick me up and I posed for posterity. Waiting for me was a hot meal (thank you Pam), dinner with old friends, a hot shower, and a nice bed. Dan and my five-year-old are driving up tomorrow to get me.   Ah… the good life!

Links to Related posts:

• Part 1: Enough Talk, Time to Walk
• Part 2: Day One is in the Books
• Part 3: Drinks Anyone?
• Part 4: Joyful Connections on the Road
• Part 5: Cold Rain and Ants on my Face
• Part 6: This Post
• Part 7: Gifts from the Road

Alive and Well

In case you are worried.  Will write more soon!

Cold Rain and Ants on My Face

My second night on the road turned out not so restful after all.  Laying in my mosquito net, I was pretty nervous as night fell.  Being out in the open, not even in a tent, I felt exposed.  What if a person or animal snuck up on me?  The good part about the net is the visibility.  I could see all around me.  My ears were picking up the smallest sounds that sounded at all anomalous.  There was a tree stump near me, and in the dark it looked like a person.  I startled when I opened my eyes every time.  It wasn’t until the tenth time or so that I started to get desensitized to the tree-stump man.

It was well past 1 a.m. before I finally fell asleep.  Soon I was awakened by something crawling on my face.  I woke up and shrieked like a little girl.  After I switched on my flashlight, I saw big black ants everywhere.  See, when I was in the police station, the officer had offered me a donut.  I had put it into a ziplock bag and thought I’d save it for breakfast tomorrow.  I had inadvertantly committed the cardinal sin of camping — food in the tent.  I was just glad it was only ants it attracted.  I grabbed the bag, ran out and hurled it into the woods as far as I could.  (Sorry, Rick.)

The next morning, day three, I got up at 6 a.m. and quickly got on the road.  The forecast was for rain all afternoon and evening.  My route was West Boylston to Holden to Paxton to Spencer.  About 18 miles total.  I’ve been averaging around 20 miles a day, and from a physical perspective, this was the toughest day yet.  The roads were super hilly.  Remember, I had retired my hiking shoes and have been wearing my Tom’s.  They don’t have good traction or shock absorption.  I got a blister on my left pinky toe.  After struggling along with it for an hour, I finally sat down on a rock and popped it.  Eeew!  And taped it up.  It felt a little better afterwards but now the pain is always there with every step I take.

The promised afternoon rain didn’t come until 5 p.m., but accompanying that was a severe temperature drop, from the 70s to the 50s.  It was really cold.  I heard talks of tornado warnings at the New Hampshire border.  Tonight, the temperature was dropping to the low 40s.  That plus the rain — not an ideal day for back yard camping.  I needed to somehow get indoors.

I could try going door to door in the cold rain.  But that approach is problematic in a few ways.  One, the nearest cluster of houses was a ways away.  Two, I would get completely soaked and who knows how long I would be out there for.  Three, it’s simply too much pressure to show up drenched at someone’s front door asking to spend the night inside.  It felt too coercive.

I saw that there was a Big Y grocery store nearby and quickly sprung to action.

I camped out at the entrance of the supermarket holding a sign that read “Walking 100 miles for charity. Need a couch to crash on”. Most people ignored me.  Some expressed sympathy and regrets.  I was out there for a total of half an hour before I met Dori, though it felt longer than that.  Dori is a nice-looking lady in her late forties.  She wanted to help me and take me in but was justifiably hesitant at the same time.

For the next ten minutes, we danced around one another to ensure we are who we say we are and are safe.  She called her husband and let him know she might be bringing someone home.  Her hesitations and gradual letting go of guard made me feel she is a good-hearted person.  Finally, I told her she can call up the West Boylston police department to check up on me.  That sealed the deal for her.

Next thing you know, we were eating pasta in her house.  On the drive to her place, she said “I’m a trusting soul.  If you end up stabbing me to death, then so be it, because I can die knowing I was trying to do the right thing.”  She said she wanted to get me home before someone with ill intentions does.

I was very touched.

Links to Related posts:

• Part 1: Enough Talk, Time to Walk
• Part 2: Day One is in the Books
• Part 3: Drinks Anyone?
• Part 4: Joyful Connections on the Road
• Part 5: This Post
• Part 6: Homecoming
• Part 7: Gifts from the Road

Joyful Connections on the Road

The day was off to a rough start.  I got up at 6 a.m. hoping to get an early start.  But just as I got packed up to leave, it started raining.  I didn’t get out until 8:30 a.m.  As soon as I put on my shoes, my right foot started hurting.  Not blisters but something structural.  I hobbled along for an hour, and by the end of that I was thinking that I probably won’t  be able to make it after all, which was upsetting.  I took several rest stops, and took my shoes off to give my feet a rest.  Then, I remembered, ah, I had brought a pair of Tom’s canvas shoes.  I never would have thought to bring a spare pair on my own, but my friend Susan, who just went on a pilgrimage walk in Spain, swore by the practice.  I brought a pair of Tom’s because they are light.  Those shoes ended up saving the day.

After a few hours of morning walk, punctured by a light drizzle (thank God I have my rain jacket), I came upon a beautiful rolling hillside with rows after rows of grape plants — The Nashoba Valley Winery.  It beckoned me, so I went hither.  After hearing my story, the nice bartender gave me a free tasting.  As a beggar, I sure am living in style! (see photos from last post)

The libation really got me pumped, and I booked six miles of brisk walk on hilly country roads.  It was 2:30 p.m. when I started approaching the town of Clinton.  I was starving at that point.  I passed a big family having a Memorial Day barbeque.  Ah, smells so good.  I approached the family, and in a rush to get my hands on some food, I didn’t go about my normal introduction.  I simply asked if they had any food to spare.

The matriarch gave me a cold look and said they are expecting a large party to arrive.  I was a little thrown off and started to leave, but then I thought I’d leave her one of my cards.  She waved me off saying no thanks.  I felt rebuffed, but frankly, I don’t blame her.  Back in real life, whenever I get approached with “do you have a minute for the environment?” or women’s rights or gay rights, all causes I support, I find myself mumbling “sorry” in a half-guilty, half-annoyed way and move on.  We are so over-prospected these days, so we erect our barriers and have developed automatic responses.

I pressed on, and ten minutes later I saw a bunch of kids running a lemonade stand.  The road has no sidewalk, so they were mostly waving down passing cars for lemonade.  I was probably the only pedestrian to come by today.  They were super excited.  They yelled out from across the street as I came within earshot.  I hated to disappoint them since I have a five-year-old myself, but I yelled across that, sorry, I have no money.  One of them quickly shot back, “do you want one for free then?”  I felt honored and gulped one down in no time.

It was almost 3 p.m. when I arrived in Clinton.  I was starving and my feet could really use a rest.  After that fiasco with the family, I decided to approach a business instead.  The first restaurant I happened upon was a Mediterranean restaurant called Zaytoon.  I approached the counter and greeted the proprietor.  After just hearing a few sentences of my story, he bid me to take a seat.

He then proceeded to bring me a delicious lentil soup, a glass of orange juice, and a plate piled with koba stuffed with meat, a tabouli salad, and some Biryani rice.  I’ve never had koba before.  They were these round raviolis stuffed with meat and seasoned with herbs.  It was absolutely heavenly!

But wait, it gets even better.  A man from a nearby table approached me and asked if it would be alright if his niece played something for us on the violin.  I was flabbergasted at my good luck.  It turns out he is friends with the proprietor, and his niece was in town for a recital.  We swapped stories and became instant friends.  Next thing you know, I’m inviting the whole family and the proprietors (a nice couple named Afrah and Suhail) to Chinese food at my house in Boston.

I ate the rest of my meal to a beautiful rendition of Vivaldi.

It was a surreal experience.  The walk, the food, the music, the company.  That fueled me for the next 7 miles until I got to West Boylston and was ready to turn in for the day.  My calves were aching from all those hills, and the balls of my feet were hurting.

When it came to finding a place to sleep, my run-in with the police on the first night had given me the idea of visiting the police station.  I explained my situation and asked whether it’s OK if I turned myself in and slept at the station.  I let the officer on duty know that I have my camping gear and I’d be happy to sleep anywhere.

After running a check on my driver’s license, he pondered the situation.  No, I can’t stay here, but he did have some ideas.  He ended up arranging for me to camp in the back yard of a local business and even escorted me out there in a police cruiser (rode in the back, another first for me).  This was way above and beyond the call of duty.  I was thankful to have another restful night,

As I lay under my mosquito net, I couldn’t help but wonder what it is about this situation that’s allowing me to interact with people in a qualitatively different way.  I feel much closer to the people I’ve met on this trip than the amount of time I spent with them would normally warrant.  Perhaps I am different?  My senses are heightened in every way.  Perhaps by putting myself out there, I’m taking a stronger stand on who I am and those that are similarly minded respond in kind?  Perhaps by inviting people into my world, we are no longer just talking, but sharing a common experience, and that brings people closer. Whatever it is, I’m ready for more — the next few days, and beyond.

Links to Related posts:

• Part 1: Enough Talk, Time to Walk
• Part 2: Day One is in the Books
• Part 3: Drinks Anyone?
• Part 4: This Post
• Part 5: Cold Rain and Ants on my Face
• Part 6: Homecoming
• Part 7: Gifts from the Road

Drinks, Anyone?

Wine tasting at the Nashoba Valley Winery.  Ah the good life!

Links to Related posts:

• Part 1: Enough Talk, Time to Walk
• Part 2: Day One is in the Books
• Part 3: This Post
• Part 4: Joyful Connections on the Road
• Part 5: Cold Rain and Ants on my Face
• Part 6: Homecoming
• Part 7: Gifts from the Road

Day One Is In the Books

No, I’m not getting arrested by the police.  But let me recap the first day for you.  By lunch time, I had walked about 9 miles.  I thought I better start trying for lunch.  My first stop was Asia Wok, a small Chinese takeout place in Waltham.  I thought perhaps my countrymen would take pity on me.  Chinese restaurants usually have large vats of rice.

I walked in and asked the proprietor for a bowl.  I told him I’m walking 100 miles without food.  He sized me up with guarded curiosity since I didn’t look like a bum.  I felt compelled to explain the situation to him, the charity, the dare, etc.  As I heard myself talking (in Chinese of course), I started to realize how crazy I sound, particularly because I’m speaking Chinese.  Perhaps because the Chinese are too practical a people for such shenanigans?  Perhaps because I imagine my own parents hearing what I’m saying and shaking their heads in confused disbelief.  I never told them by the way because they would have thought I was completely off my rocker.  Sure, my (American) in-laws think it is a little crazy too, and they are concerned for my safety, but at least they get why someone would want to do something like this.

In any case, I sat down to enjoy my plate of rice.  Jack, the proprietor, shook his head and said “you can’t just eat plain rice.”  He went and cooked a heaping plate of chicken and broccoli and plopped it down on my table.  I couldn’t believe my good luck and thanked him profusely.  I didn’t want to linger as there was a thunderstorm in the forecast for 4 p.m. in the afternoon, and I wanted to cover as much distance as I could in the meantime.

In the afternoon, I walked in the fresh country air smelling of lilacs and honeysuckles.  I walked by a chicken coop, the air didn’t smell so floral there…

Later, I passed by a solar cell farm.

This whole time, I walked on winding one-lane country roads where I had to dodge on the grass to avoid oncoming traffic.  You can imagine my elation at simply happening upon stretches of sidewalk.  Ah, the simple joys in life.

I got to Maynard around 6:30 pm.  This was my destination for the first day.  21 miles, phew!  I actually wasn’t that tired, but my right foot was hurting quite a bit in several places.  I thought it would be a good idea to settle into somewhere for the night before it gets dark.

I’ve been working out the details in my head of how to find sleeping quarters as I walked.  My plan was to camp in people’s back yard.  That way, I won’t have to disturb people and I will have a decent chance of having my wish granted.  There is a huge advantage to sleeping in someone’s back yard over sleeping in the woods.  For one, help is nearby if I need it in an emergency.  Also, I can tell Dan my exact location and there will be some sense of accountability.  It just feels cozier by a long stretch.

I got on a side road and started checking out houses to knock on.  My personal safety criterion is that there have to be either women or children in the house for me to feel safe.  Of course, those are not guarantees but I feel comfortable with it.  

The first door I knocked on had lights on in the kitchen and I could see a boy, maybe 10 to 12, cooking on the stove.  His mom came to the door.  I explained that I’m on a 100 mile charity walk challenge and would it be OK if I camped in her back yard.  She seemed a little hesitant, as she should.  Frankly, I’m not sure how I’d react to such a strange request.  I handed her one of the cards I made and told her to think about it and I’d wait outside.

A few minutes later, she came back and said she’s not so comfortable with the idea but would I like dinner instead?  Sure!  I was starving again and wasn’t going to turn down food.  She handed me a bowl of freshly-made hamburger helper.  Another first for me.  It was hot and delicious.  It had an herb in it that I can’t place.  I regret not getting her recipe.

On my next try, I spotted a couple in their early thirties getting out of their car.  I waved and ran over to make my request.  Turned out they had a fenced in back yard and that’s where the family dog lives, so a no go.

The third time was the charm.  I spotted a lady in her fifties sitting in the living room.  I rang the door bell.  After I told her my request, she asked a number of questions.  She was simultaneously guarded and tickled.  She had her husband come out as well.  After a few minutes of explaining myself, she said her son is in the police force, and would it be OK if she called him to check in on this situation.  I told her sure, and hoped that I wouldn’t somehow get in trouble for this.

Finally, she and her husband looked at each other and she said “I don’t know how we can say no. Either you are going to turn out to be a mass murderer, or this is going to be a lot of fun!”  Things proved to be the latter :).

As luck would have it, they just got a brand new shed.  So rather than camping in the yard, I was ushered into a beautiful shed that smelled of fresh pine.  Almost as soon as I got in, it started to rain.  The rain continued for the next few hours.  Boy was I glad to have a solid roof over my head.  Not only that, but I was given a pillow, extra blankets, hot tea, a lamp, and a bag of breakfast food in case I take off before they wake up.  They were so hospitable and light hearted that I couldn’t have picked a better set of hosts for my first night.  After a short visit from Officer William of the Maynard Police Department, I couldn’t have felt more safe!

Links to Related posts:

• Part 1: Enough Talk, Time to Walk
• Part 2: This Post
• Part 3: Drinks Anyone?
• Part 4: Joyful Connections on the Road
• Part 5: Cold Rain and Ants on my Face
• Part 6: Homecoming
• Part 7: Gifts from the Road

Good Start

Got some day-old bread at the grocery store:

Chicken and broccoli for lunch:

Going good so far!

Enough Talk, Time to Walk

This month’s dare is to walk from Boston to Northampton (~100 miles) without any money or food.  Well, I’m not allowed to bring any food but I can “obtain” it on the way through my industrialness.  I will also have to find places to sleep at night.

Since I’ve decided to take on this dare, a number of friends and family have tried to talk me out of it.  It’s potentially very dangerous, they said.  Well, I couldn’t agree more.  I’ve lived a pretty sheltered life and have not been exposed to much physical danger (thankfully), either of the natural or man-made variety. Sure, I’ve travelled, but only to tourist-friendly countries.  And yes I’ve camped, but only in groups and at campgrounds with coin-operated hot showers.

Since this dare was born, every now and then as I’m drifting off to sleep at night, I would startle awake with a bit of panic at the realization that, oh shit, I will be sleeping in the woods, in the dark, by myself, starving.  As I lay awake, I’ve fought off imaginary rapists, hungry bears, and rabid raccoons.  You laugh, but there are bears in Western Massachusetts.  I remember a friend telling me that black bears regularly visit his back yard, digging through his trash.  And he lives just a mile from downtown Northampton.

Now, you might ask with all these potential risks, why do I want to undertake this journey in the first place?  Well, this challenge excites me, even after thinking through the risks.  I guess that’s all the affirmation I needed, considering I’m normally not anywhere near being a reckless person.  I want to go for it because I don’t want to look back at my life some day and regret not having experienced things because I was worried about some imaginary worst-case scenario.

With all this talk of danger and risk, you’d think I’m preparing for a post-apocalyptical journey through zombie land rather than a walk through picturesque New England towns.  Let’s get back to reality here.  As far as logistics, here is what I’m taking with me (besides the clothes on my back).

Equipment: ultra lite sleeping bag, mosquito net, emergency space blanket/tarp, water bottle & an empty Spring water bottle for extra capacity, mini Swiss army knife, mini flash light, 3 safety pins, marker, pen, paper, 1 large garbage bag, Ziplock bags, 20′ of thin but strong cord from REI, 4 aluminum tent stakes (for the mosquito net setup)

Clothing: 1 long sleeve T, 1 short sleeve T, 1 ultra-lite rain jacket, 1 shorts, 4 pairs of socks, 4 underwear, Toms shoes, hat

Medical: Advil, blister care, allergy medications, 3 cough drops, electrolyte pills

Beauty & hygiene: sun screen, lotion, toothbrush, toothpaste, floss, Clearasil, 6 packs of Kleenex tissues, mini face towel, eye brow pencil, foundation, blush (gotta look good when I panhandle…)

Other: iPhone, credit-card-sized iPhone tripod (for taking pictures and videos), iPod Nano (so I don’t run down the battery on my phone) phone charger, gum, library card, driver’s license, business cards (free from Vista Print that has my walk challenge mission printed on them), marker, pen, paper

The one thing that I decided to do without is a tent.  The lightest tent that’s reasonably priced is about 3 lbs.  Now, it may not sound like much, but those 3 lbs over 100 miles will indeed add up.  Instead, I opted for a 3.2 oz mosquito net that cost $15.37.  I also brought an emergency space blanket that will not only keep me extra warm but can also dub as a tarp if it rains, weighing in at 12 oz.

At the last minute, I also decided to ditch the sleeping pad.  It weighs around a pound and I think I’d rather have a lighter pack then cushier sleep.

I’m leaving tomorrow morning and I will try to do some live updates on the road.  Wish me luck!

Links to Related posts:

• Part 2: Day One is in the Books
• Part 3: Drinks Anyone?
• Part 4: Joyful Connections on the Road
• Park 5: Cold Rain and Ants on my Face
• Park 6: Homecoming
• Park 7: Gifts from the Road