Nov.8 A New Direction

Thursday Nov.8

                When I woke up at my grandmother’s house on Thursday morning, the first thing I did was look out the window. There was several inches on the ground and snow banks along the road. Cold, wet slush. I had hoped to be out of Maine before this started. It's barely November and it looks like February out there. Even after a day of rest, I was still sore and tired from the all-night march on Tuesday. I need to get to Brewer in time for the sendoff on Saturday and I need to be there a day early to pack up and store the last of my belongings, so the 20-mile walk from Ellsworth has to happen today. With the gear packed I said goodbye to my grandmother and aunt and uncle and started rolling again.

                It was heavily overcast and there was still a fine sleet in the air. Though my arms were cold, my back pressed against the pack began sweating until my t-shirt was soaked. The fine sleet grew steadily heavier into a full rain, and before long my boots were soaking up water and my hands were wet inside my gloves. I was miserable! And discouraged. I wasn’t going to let the hard ordeal on Tuesday ruin my resolve; any endeavor has its hard days and difficult valleys. I’m not going to let isolated incidents steer my decisions, but I’ve barely started today and I’m already soaking wet, walking in several inches of slush with luggage, and the wind is sucking my body heat away so that I can’t walk fast enough to stop shivering. The wind feels like knives. If I had a good plan to keep this from happening in the future, I’d just tough through it today, but if the first month of my trip is going to be like this it just isn’t worth it. A better sleeping bag would make the nights a little more bearable (And safer), but between this cold-sweat and rain I’ll never be able to get anything to dry.

                I hate giving up, so I keep putting one foot in front of the other trying to think of a way to make this trip work. I can feel icy water squishing between my toes with each step. I decide to put my rain pants on to keep my jeans from soaking up any more water, but I have to take my boots off to get the rain pants on. I trudge for another mile or two looking for a shoveled driveway or anyplace where I can step off the road, but I find nothing. Finally I stand on the side of the road, hopping on one foot at a time to peel my wet boots of and put on the rain pants before putting the boots back on with wet socks. I’m shivering hard and sweating at the same time so I strip off my t-shirt on the side of the road and pull on a dry one. I want to stop sweating so I put on the raincoat over the t-shirt without anything in between. It’s cold, but I have to stop the sweating somehow. The pack goes back on and I’m walking behind the cart again. The gloves are so waterlogged that I can’t get my fingers in, so I just ball up my fists and push the cart like that. Hours and miles go by. It’s so overcast it feels like late evening, but it’s only mid-morning and I still have over 15 miles to go before I get to Brewer. This is ridiculous! This trip is supposed to be about time to pray and contemplate; time to enjoy nature and meet new people. I don't want to give up, but if I could move my fingers right now, I think I’d call someone and get picked up. This just isn’t working. That’s not going to happen though because I literally can’t move my fingers enough to even get my phone out of my pocket, much less dial and hold it. I’m looking for a gas station or someplace to warm up my hands. Technically I haven’t given up yet. I’m still putting one foot in front of the other, but I’m looking for an out. I’m broken.

                “Hey, you need a ride?”

                Yea, if you’re going to Brewer, that would be amazing!”

                “Throw your stuff in the back and hop in.” I hoist my cart into the back of the blue pickup and crawl into the cab. He sees me shivering violently and turns the heat all the way up. I’m relieved, but at the same time I’ve got a lump in my throat. I’ve walked 110 miles from the border of Canada to this point. I made it about a tenth of a percent to my goal before throwing in the towel and taking a ride.

                I’m trying not to think of it as a failure. I can come back in the spring. That way I can walk the northern stretch in the summer and the southern stretch as it gets cooler. Perfect. The way I should have planned it in the first place. I can’t wait to get these sopping icy clothes off! I can hop a bus to balmy Florida for the winter and get a job at one of those ritzy golf clubs where all the rich men go to retire. New thoughts and ideas come sluggishly as I sit shivering in the overheated pickup cab, but it feels good to be looking forward to something again instead of dreading it. Things will work out. It could have been a nice sunny day today, but if it had I never would have changed my mind. I don’t know what my heavenly Father has in store, but He sure knows how to make me change my mind when He wants to. That’s a comforting thought. I’d rather do things His way even when I don’t understand and even when a nudge has to become a shove. I don’t know what’s going to happen now. Everything is upside down and up in the air, but I don’t have to be in control right now, and I think it’s going to be okay.

                For any of you who don’t follow my Facebook posts, I’m still planning on leaving at the same time on Saturday. I’ll be at the parking lot of Calvary Baptist Church in Brewer just the same as previously planned, but instead of setting out on a hike I’ll be going to the bus station. I’m looking forward to that opportunity to say goodbye to any of you who can make it out. I can’t say thank you enough to all the people who have been encouraging and supportive of me as I planned to walk and even as I faced the decision to let this go for now. You all mean more to me than I can express. Although the nature of my journey can’t really be described as a “walkabout” anymore, I still hope to use this blog to post occasional stories about my travels and experiences wherever I end up.