From Leesville, Louisiana, I found myself 25 miles from the Texas state line. To ensure my friend Gary (who put me up in Leesville for the night) got his money’s worth, I ate my fill of COVID compliant to-go breakfasts, drank plenty of coffee, watched some ESPN, and reorganized PJ before resuming my walk at 10 AM. It was December 20th.

I walked six miles north on the Shreveport Highway before following a few county roads to Highway 111. A few Louisianans made my last full day in their state memorable with several gestures of kindness.

Just north of Leesville, an older gentleman in a pickup pulled over and handed me a crisp 20 dollar bill. He didn’t tell me his name, or ask where I was walking or why, he just said “Merry Christmas and have a nice walk.” Another man pulled over and gave me two slices of piping hot pepperoni pizza from an untouched pie.

I munched on the slices of pizza as the sun came out around noon. I couldn’t resist sunbathing next to picturesque Lake Vernon off Highway 111 a few miles later.

I walked another 10 miles after leaving the lakeshore and camped off an ATV trail in the woods. Louisiana sent me off with a sky full of stars.

I approached the Texas state line at sunrise the follwing morning and crossed the Sabine River as the sun illuminated mist rising from the valley.

PJ took the ceremonial picture of me next to the Texas state line sign. I certainly have a lot to learn about Texas, but I know two things with 100 percent certainty – it’s a big state, and I will NOT leave a Dallas Cowboys fan!

I had some company at the state line after snapping photos. Two men, RJ and John, who work on the nearby dam, stopped as they were driving by and visited with me for a bit.

“We weren’t sure if you were a lost mailman, selling ice cream, or out walking to talk about Jesus,” John said with a laugh. The two wished me good luck, and once again reminded me how big Texas is, as if I didn’t already know!

From the state line, I followed Highway 255 for the next 40 miles. I was admittedly nervous about the road because I knew it didn’t have a shoulder. My other option, Highway 8 to the south, didn’t have one either. Considering the lack of towns and services, I banked on 255 having very little traffic. Fortunately, I guessed correctly.

Many of the vehicles on the road were logging trucks. I didn’t appreciate the prevalence of the logging industry in this part of Texas. For whatever reason, logging trucks seem more sinister to me than the typical semi, so I have taken to calling them “toothpick trucks” to make them seem friendlier. The other challenging aspect of the stretch was the 75 mile per hour speed limit, which I have never encountered on a two lane road. I learned a few key lessons about Texas within the first 50 miles. People drive FAST, and Texans love oversized pickup trucks with big tires.

On day two of my walk down 255, PJ and I hit impressive Sam Rayburn Dam and Reservoir. The walk atop the dam offered great views of the lake and provided a rare shoulder on the highway.

After another five miles on narrow 255, I hit Highway 69, which I followed northwest towards Lufkin. At that point, I was in the middle of the Piney Woods region of East Texas, which includes four National Forests – Davy Crockett, Sam Houston, Sabine, and Angelina. I was able to camp in Angelina National Forest outside of Zavalla after following a forest service road into the woods. Storms were forecasted to move into the area the following afternoon, so I went to sleep early and started walking before daybreak the next morning, hoping to hit Lufkin before the rain moved in.

I was walking by 5 AM in the morning and hit Lufkin mid-afternoon. Mother Nature cut me a break, too – it didn’t start raining until I checked into a room at Motel 6. In the morning, I walked another five miles and hit 1,001 miles for the trip, just in time for Christmas!

My sister, Katy, made the long drive south from Kansas City and picked PJ and I up near Highway 130. We spent three nights together in Galveston, TX, and celebrated Christmas together. One of the main reasons I got a hotel room in Lufkin was so I could shower and eliminate the chance Katy would leave PJ and I on the side of the road in Houston because we stunk!

Galveston was a great place to spend the holiday! The 10 mile long, 17 feet tall seawall was built in 1902 after the devastating Great Galveston Hurricane of 1900 (it killed approximately 8,000 people). The seawall was built to prevent the storm surge from future hurricanes from flooding the city. The sidewalk next to the seawall is the longest continuous sidewalk in the world, and the murals painted on the seawall itself comprise the world’s longest mural!

Katy dropped me back off near Highway 130 at noon on December 27th. I gave her a big hug, reassembled PJ, and just like that, we were back to walking!

I felt like I was “home” within minutes of resuming my walk. It always amazes me how comfortable and at ease I feel with myself and the world when I’m on the road, like I am exactly where I need to be.

I pushed PJ 17 miles down the ample shoulders of Highway 130 and Highway 7 on December 27th, ending the day with a camping spot in Davy Crockett National Forest right next to the welcome sign.

I checked the forecast the following morning and a big storm was supposed to move into East Texas in 48 hours. I decided I wanted to push myself, physically and mentally, and attempt to make it to Fairfield, 80 miles west, over the next two days.

I started walking before sunrise and reached Ratcliff as the sun illuminated the surrounding national forest. After a pint of milk at a gas station, I turned right onto TX Farm Road 227. There, I saw something unusual – a woman walking down the highway shoulder with an orange vest and fanny pack. I don’t come across many walkers in rural areas. I caught up to her after a few hundred yards and said good morning. Jean was out for her regular morning walk. She follows 227 north for a mile to a dirt road, then turns around and heads home.

On October 5th, 2019, Jean tragically lost her daughter in a car accident. She turned to walking as a way to grieve, calm down her racing mind, and connect with God. Sometimes she listens to gospel music while she walks. Other days, she walks in silence, letting the sounds of the forest soothe her soul.

Jean and I walked together for a mile and talked about what walking means to us, and what role it plays in our lives. Although we were only together for an hour, we formed a meaningful connection. Jean admitted she was lonely and doesn’t have many friends in town. I encouraged her to call me if she needed someone to talk to. Three days later, my phone rang with a Texas phone number I didn’t recognize. It was Jean. I am grateful for the newfound friendship.

The walk north on 227 was peaceful and beautiful. The road meandered through pine, oak, and dogwood forests before passing by quaint farms and ranches.

My serene and relaxing walk ended once I reached Highway 294. With no shoulder, more traffic, hills, and plenty of blind curves, 294 gave me all I could handle.

I walked another six miles before dark, bringing my total miles for the day to 37, and reached the small town of Slocum at dusk. I pushed PJ into some woods next to a creek for the night just west of town. Fairfield was still 43 miles away.

I would have liked to start walking before dawn the next morning, but walking a narrow road with no shoulder in the dark wasn’t a good idea. PJ and I started at first light and slowly made our way through the next 20 miles on 294. PJ preached patience. We had to constantly move off the road for logging trucks, semis, and Texas-sized pickup trucks.

We reached the smooth shoulder of U.S. 84 at 2 PM after the difficult stretch. I celebrated with a series of Tiger Woods style first pumps as I pushed PJ down the massive shoulder. Drivers shot curious looks in my direction. I was still 25 miles from Fairfield, but the difficult portion of the day was over. It took until 10 PM, but PJ and I rolled into town after a 15 hour, 45 mile walk. My dogs weren’t barking – they were howling – and I was only moderately incoherent. We did it!

A friend of mine from back home – Dicko Greenwood – graciously put PJ and I up in a hotel for a few nights to recover and stay out of the rain. Thank you, Dicko! We will get back on the road New Year’s Day and begin the walk to Waco.

Favorite Three Pictures

Trip Recap

Days – 50

Miles – 1,101

Jars of Peanut Butter – 37

Roadside Change Count – $3.51

Miles Per Shower (Total) – 64.76. That’s 17 showers total since leaving Jacksonville!

Favorite Roadside Find – A Texas License Plate!

Wishing you all a Happy New Year and blessed 2021 – I am thrilled to be ringing in the New Year in East Texas!

Walk on!

-Ben

Louisiana has presented plenty of challenges over the last six days and 170 miles. Every obstacle has been well worth the effort thanks to the beautiful scenery and a great deal of generosity and kindness from those I have crossed paths with.

Terry dropped me back off at the Louisiana State Capitol building in downtown Baton Rouge on Monday, December 14th. After enjoying temperatures in the 60’s and 70’s for the previous week, I was in for a few days of 40 and 50 degree weather. I didn’t think 50 degrees could feel that cold until I walked through the South. When coupled with humidity, a little wind, or no sun, it can feel downright frigid. The cold gets deep into your bones!

From downtown, I walked north on Highway 61 towards the John James Audubon Bridge that crosses the Mississippi River. 61, also known as the “Scenic Highway,” was industrial with miles and miles of oil refineries until I was well north of town. Locals have nicknamed this part of Baton Rouge “Gotham City.” However, the city is implementing an urban reforestation project for a five mile stretch on vacant land the lies between neighborhoods to the east of the highway and industrial developments to the west. The urban forests will act as a buffer between the residential and industrial areas. What a great use of that land!

After 24 miles of walking, I reached the Southern Belle Truck Stop and Casino. Nashiqua, the friendly woman working the register, gave me permission to camp on the property. I turned the trucker’s lounge into a “walker’s lounge” and was able to spend some of the chilly evening inside. Thank you for the great camping spot, Southern Belle!

In the morning, I began my long awaited walk across the Mississippi. Despite hitting the country’s mightiest river in downtown Baton Rouge, I needed to walk 30 miles north in order to cross the river safely (and legally). The John James Audubon Bridge was well worth the walk! The beautiful bridge rose high over the muddy Mississippi and offered expansive views in all directions. The bridge’s cables are painted gold, giving it a gold plated appearance from a distance.

After walking through tree tunnels for much of my walk, I was thrilled to arrive in an agricultural portion of the state after crossing the Mississippi. I traded bayous, forests, and swamps for wide open spaces and sugar cane farms – and I was crossing fewer narrow bridges! I could see for miles in every direction! It was also harvest season, so watching farmers hard at work harvesting their crops entertained me for most of the afternoon. The highway shoulder was littered with sugar cane stalks that had flown out of the back of semi-trucks during transport.

Near the end of my day, I ran into a bit of a problem. I came to a mile long, narrow stretch of the highway that ran along the top of a levy. Fortunately, I found a side road that ran parallel to the main highway through the adjacent bayou/flood plain. PJ and I just had to do some three wheeling down a steep hill to get there. I spent a blissful six miles on the quiet road and listened to happy, chirping birds the whole way. I also made friends with a few construction workers who were making repairs to the flood control system. One of the men has been in recovery for four years. We had a great chat about our respective recoveries in the bayou!

I spent night two after leaving Baton Rouge at another gas station in Batchelor. It dumped overnight, but I stayed dry, cozy, and warm in my tent!

As I made my way further northwest, more and more sugar cane fields had already been harvested. That was sweet for me, because it meant less harvest traffic. Highway 1 continued to have a massive shoulder as I made my way through the small communities of Simmsport, Yellow Bayou, and Hamburg. I had a pleasant encounter with a man named Kevin late in the day. He offered me a ride before I explained what I was doing. He wished me a Merry Christmas and sent me on my way with 20 bucks for a hot meal.

I stealth camped in the woods off Highway 1 near Moreauville that night before pushing towards the southern end of Alexandria in the morning. The sun finally came back out and I was ready for some miles!

I decided to follow Highway 114 (a three mile saving “shortcut”) en route to Alexandria. Midway through the 12 mile stretch, after hitting downtown Hessmer, I took a left instead of a right. I realized it after walking south for two miles. I found my way back to 114, but my misdirection added three miles. Some shortcut, huh? PJ will never let me live it down. And although I expected minimal shoulder space on 114, I wasn’t expecting so much traffic. It was a tricky, narrow, and often frustrating stretch.

An older man saw us walking by his house and curiously asked “Why are you on this narrow road instead of that big highway?” Great question!

Another man asked if I was out collecting cans. “Nope, just out for a long walk,” I told him.

Despite the challenges, there were plenty of sights to enjoy on the 12 mile stretch, including countless beautiful homes and some fall colors.

Once PJ and I were safely back on the shoulders of Highway 1, we put in another 20 miles on the luxuriously wide shoulder and ended the day on the south side of Alexandria after walking 33 miles on the day.

I didn’t dawdle much in Alexandria. There was a storm with one to two inches of rain forecasted to move into the area the following afternoon. Without any services between Alexandria and Leesville, I decided to beat feet to Leesville.

My strategy worked to perfection. I walked about 72 miles in 48 hours and made it to Leesville an hour before the torrential, cold rain settled in. But let me tell you, my feet were beat after that feat!

Thanks to a Christmas gift from my good friend, Gary Anderson of Oberlin, KS, I had a roof over my head during the storm at a Best Western Hotel. Gary and I met during my first walk in Oberlin in 2015. We have grown close over the years and I am proud to call him one of my best friends. He has helped me immensely during my recovery. Thank you for the perfect Christmas gift, Gary! And compared to the other hotels I have stayed in on this trip, I won’t have to worry about bed bugs this time around!

I ended today about 25 miles from the Texas state line. I expect to be in the Lone Star State Monday the 21st. And my sister, Katy, is picking me up near Lufkin, TX on Christmas Eve to spend the holiday weekend in Galveston. I cannot wait!

Favorite Three Pictures

Trip Stats

39 days, 890 miles walked.

Jars of peanut butter consumed – 28

Roadside change count – $3.25

Miles per shower in Louisiana – 94

Bridges crossed in Louisiana – 58

Favorite roadside find – a Louisiana “trailer” license plate. Perfect for PJ!

Lookout drivers – PJ is officially licensed!

Until next time, walk on, and Merry Christmas!

-Ben

I was 16 miles from the Louisiana state line when I woke up on December 7th. It was a chilly 39 degrees outside as I packed up my gear. The woman camping “next door” brought me a cup of piping hot coffee, which helped warm me up. I walked back to the highway and said goodbye to the Gulf of Mexico around 8 AM. I had enjoyed walking next to its beautiful waters for a few days.

The last 16 miles in Mississippi were incredibly peaceful. I walked a few back roads that had next to no traffic. I remembered my friend Wanda I had met a few days before, who loves walking without her phone or music. She inspired me to stash my phone inside PJ and walk in silence for the first four hours of the day. I cherished my quiet surroundings and got “lost” in the beautiful forests I walked through.

After 12 miles, I hit the wide shoulder of Highway 90 and closed in on Louisiana. I crossed a bridge that spanned the White River and officially hit the fourth state of my journey. As you’ll see in coming days, walking across bridges will become part of my normal routine!

I walked across a total of five bridges in the first four miles of the Pelican State. Although none of them had a shoulder, traffic levels were low, which made crossing them much easier.

I reached the outskirts of Slidell near dark. Louisiana came across as sinister and unwelcoming initially. Most of the land directly off the road was fenced. Private property/no trespassing signs were hung on trees every 30 feet. The forests were thick, dark, and brambly.

I reminded myself not to worry about where I would sleep. A solution would present itself. It always does. “Keep the faith.” A few miles later I passed a fishing shop that had a Coke sign hanging in the window. I noticed a nice grassy spot under a massive live oak tree on the property. That looked like a great to sleep, I told PJ. I went inside. The smell of gutted fish hit me as soon as I walked in. Six men were sitting around a table, drinking beer. This place was half fishing shop, half bar. All their eyes fixated on me. I said hello with a big smile. I bought a Coke and some snacks and introduced myself.

The owner of Jes Tackle is an older man named Richard. He was skeptical at first….about me, about my walk, and about my sleeping there for the night.

He must have picked up on some desperation in my eyes. I didn’t want to face the shoulderless highway to the west of me at dark and at the peak of rush hour. “I’m not saying you can camp there, but I’m not saying you can’t either. Catch my drift? If something happens to you, I’m not responsible. And don’t break into my shop overnight,” Richard said, only half kidding.

It wasn’t a ringing endorsement, but was good enough for me. I talked with the beer-sipping Louisianans for a bit before heading outside and setting up camp. Right before dark, one of the men from the “bar” came over to my tent and gave me a box of brownies, a half dozen oatmeal cream pies, and a full box of nutty butty bars. I was set on the junk food front for weeks. Best of all, nobody messed with me overnight. After all, I’m the crazy guy in the tent pushing the jogging stroller across America.

I made my way through Slidell in the morning and began a 31 mile walk down the Tammany Trace. “The Trace,” as the locals call it, is a paved recreational path that runs from Slidell to Covington. I spent a blissful day-and-a-half on the trail free from vehicle noise and narrow bridges. It was heavenly. I cowboy camped on a horse path right off The Trace near Convington on my second night in Louisiana.

It was back to reality after making it through Covington. I was three hard days from Baton Rouge and I had some tough walking on Highway 190 ahead of me. My biggest obstacles so far in Louisiana have been bridges. On the walk from Covington to Hammond, I crossed 11 of them. From Hammond to Walker, there were 10 PJ and I clumsily jogged across. Most of them were 20 or 30 yards long. Four were about a quarter of a mile. In the case of the longer bridges, PJ and I actually walk with traffic. None of the bridges had shoulders, so by walking with traffic, we force cars to slow down and scoot over for us if they can’t safely get around. I literally put my life in the hands of motorists. There is nowhere to bail if a driver isn’t paying attention (though I do wait for a sizeable gap in traffic before crossing a bridge).

After a few crossings, we got the hang of it! After a 27 mile walk from Covington, I camped outside a gas station in Hammond. I reached Walker (appropriately named, I’d say) the following night. We hit town at rush hour and came to a bridge that was way too dangerous to cross given the traffic levels. Fortunately, there was a nice level spot under the bridge where I camped for the night.

I pushed PJ across the tricky bridge that led into downtown Walker early the following morning when traffic was at a minimum. From downtown Walker, the walk into Baton Rouge was a narrow, high trafficked, difficult 24 mile walk. Without a wide shoulder, I pushed PJ through the roadside grass, mud, and on some uneven slopes. But we made it to the Mighty Mississippi in one piece.

After 31 days and 720 miles of walking, PJ and I reached the quarter-pole on our third walk across America in Louisiana’s capital city.

I’m taking the weekend off and staying with Terry Jones. I met Terry on my first walk at a gas station in Central Wyoming. He was helping his daughter, Robyn, move to Washington State. Terry reached out to me a few weeks ago and invited me to stay with him when I hit town.

Terry and his girlfriend, Insa, have spoiled me rotten with some amazing meals at Mike Andersons (a staple for seafood in the Baton Rouge area), and at Houmas Plantation. I have gotten my fill of oysters, shrimp, crawfish, crab, and catfish – all delicious! I hadn’t eaten any seafood on my journey before reaching Baton Rouge (packaged tuna fish doesn’t count). Terry and Insa are very generous, kind, thoughtful, and fun people. I couldn’t ask for better hosts – thank you both!

I’ll be leaving Baton Rouge Monday, December 14th. My original plan was to walk Highway 190 through the rest of Louisiana, but after getting some local advice from Terry, I will be following a few smaller highways up to Alexandria and then continue west from there. 190 has a few mile long causeways without shoulders that would be dangerous to walk. Heading to Alexandria will add a few miles, but it will be worth it to walk a quieter, safer road – in theory!

Favorite Three Pictures

Walk Recap

33 days, 720 miles walked

24 jars of peanut butter consumed

Roadside change count – $2.65

Favorite roadside find – A pair of brand new, high visibility, cool weather gloves. I found them while I was searching for a camping spot outside of Walker.

Bridges crossed in Louisiana – 30

Encounters with law enforcement – 0

Miles per shower in Louisiana – 37.66

Until next time, walk on!

-Ben

It was a good thing I had a roof over my head in North Pensacola. It poured…all day. But by the morning of November 30th, I was left with dry, sunny skies. My 27 mile walk to Robertsdale, Alabama, was a day of many firsts for this walk.

I hit the first state line of my journey after nine miles and entered Alabama! A new state always provides a morale boost. After 429 miles in Florida, I was certainly ready for a new state abbreviation.

There was one immediate difference after reaching Alabama – the shoulders. Florida spoiled me with impeccable shoulders for every mile. Alabama’s were narrower, bumpier, and had rumble strips, often in the center of the shoulder, which make for a bumpy ride and thoroughly annoy PJ. Nevertheless, we adjusted quickly and made pretty good time during the sunny 27 mile walk to Robertsdale.

Another trip first – I actually had a host lined up for the night before leaving in the morning (and I would get to sleep in an RV)! Cami, who has followed my walks on Instagram, invited PJ and I to stay on her property when she realized I would be walking through Baldwin County. When we arrived, a smiling Cami was waiting in the front yard. Had it not been for COVID, I’m sure she would have given me a big welcome hug. I felt at home immediately. The RV was stocked with food, coffee, and fresh towels. She even bought a space heater to keep me warm overnight considering the temp was supposed to dip into the upper 20’s. And, I was able to shower for the THIRD day in a row! We shared travel stories for a few hours before bed and visited again in the morning. I thoroughly enjoyed the restful night in Cami’s “she-shed,” as she calls it. Thank you for your hospitality and making me feel so welcome!

From Cami’s house, I walked due west on Highway 104 and met up with the East Shore Trail, which meandered through historic neighborhoods and into quaint downtown Daphne. I ended the day cowboy camping off Highway 98, but not after a little excitement.

Near the end of the trail after dark, I came across a wooden barrier right in the middle of “Gator Alley,” which is a popular boardwalk where people can spot alligators in the surrounding water. I searched for a way around the roadblock, but PJ can’t swim and he’s also afraid of alligators. The nearby highways also passed over the waterway, but were heavily trafficked and didn’t have suitable shoulders. If I walked a series of secondary roads to bypass the swamp and nearby interstate, it would have been a 14 mile detour (only to end up a mile north). It was a real head scratcher.

My best option, it seemed, was to roll the dice and hop the four foot tall roadblock. After all, the boardwalk on the other side looked stable to my amateur eye. I unloaded PJ and clumsily lifted him over the barrier. He needs to walk more because he was heavy. After I made it across the sturdy wooden pieces, I quickly reloaded my gear and gingerly pushed PJ across the wooden planks until we were safely on solid ground. Thankfully, we didn’t end up as an alligator’s entree. Curiously, there weren’t any signs or barricades at the end of the trail announcing it was closed (nor were there any next to the roadblock). Maybe it was some elaborate prank by some neighborhood kids. I’ll never know.

I was excited to walk into Mobile the following morning. I was pushing PJ across the Highway 98 Causeway as the sun came up over misty Mobile Bay.

I made a few new friends, Jeff and Larry, four miles into my day. They were fishing and having a few beers when I rolled by. We chatted on the roadside for 15 minutes. I declined the offer for a beer (by the grace of God, that’s easy to say no to these days) but accepted some breakfast sausage and a bag full of cookies. I got both their phone numbers in case I ran into trouble in Mobile. As I snapped their picture, they let out a loud “Roll Tide!”

I continued towards Mobile after the fun roadside chat. Unfortunately, there isn’t a direct (or legal) route for a pedestrian into downtown Mobile. I had to do a big loop to the north and walk the three-mile long Cochrane-Africatown USA Bridge before heading back south into downtown. The bridge rose hundreds of feet above the Mobile River and was the closest thing to a mountain I have walked on my journey so far. The views from the “summit” were breathtaking. After a three mile walk south through the Mobile Railyards, we finally hit downtown.

Mobile is a lovely city. The sidewalks we walked were lined with stately, Southern homes and live oak trees draped with Spanish moss. I camped off a bike path on the south end of town as Christmas music from a nearby mall lulled me to sleep.

It was a suburban walk through South Mobile and Theodore for 15 miles before getting back into the country. I passed by field after field of Alabama’s cash crop, cotton, before reaching Grand Bay. There, I had a care package from home waiting for me. The box included a new solar panel, a sleeping bag liner, snacks, a sports page from the weekend the Broncos beat the Dolphins, and a nice note. Thanks Mom and Dad!

My feet still felt fresh an hour before dark so I walked another four miles to the Mississippi State Line. I camped in the woods right next to the welcome sign!

After a stormy night, I began the 85 mile walk across the Magnolia State. Traffic increased as I neared Pascagoula, but the shoulder on 90 was MASSIVE. I could have fit five PJs on that thing! It certainly made for some comfortable walking. After a visit to Lighthouse Park in Pascagoula, I continued into Gautier (pronounced go-shay. French pronunciation isn’t one of my strong suits). I met my host for the night, Thomas, at city hall. One of my good friends from home put me in touch with him. We loaded PJ into the back of his truck and made the 30 minute drive to his house. Thomas and I had a blast sharing our travel experiences with one another. After so many nights of stealth camping on this walk, my appreciation for hosts (and a roof over my head) has gone…through the roof! Thank you Thomas!

On day two in Mississippi, I finally hit the Gulf of Mexico in Ocean Springs. Since then, I have been “going Gulfing,” as I like to say. After passing through Ocean Springs, I walked across the Biloxi Bay Bridge. The wide pedestrian lane allowed me to take in the ocean and enjoy the views. I also walked with a woman named Wanda for two miles – my first walking partner of the trip! Wanda completes a seven mile, marina-to-marina walk every Saturday across the bridge. She doesn’t bring her phone or listen to music, she just walks as a way to reconnect with her surroundings and herself. Thank you for the company, Wanda! Keep walking!

For the remainder of the day, I had a break from traffic and walked a series of sidewalks, bike paths, and boardwalks along the Gulf. I struck up a few conversations with other walkers and a few cyclists as the day progressed. With the advantage of a safe pathway to walk, I continued my day well after dark, eventually passing through Gulfport. There was a beautiful light display at the city park and they were showing “Elf” on a projector screen. PJ and I enjoyed dinner and a show before walking another three miles.

I pushed PJ onto the beach at 8 PM and cowboy camped 20 yards from the water. Hands down the best camping view on the trip!

After enjoying the sunrise on December 6th, our Gulf walk continued through Pass Christian, Bay St. Louis, and into Waveland, where I am camping at Buccaneer State Park. My goal was to get here at 3 PM. We arrived at 2:58. I hoped to get my tent set up by 3:30 since rain was supposed to move in at 4. I had camp ready to go at 3:40. Minutes later, the rain started. For a guy without a schedule, I sure stuck to the schedule today!

The campground tonight is 13 miles from Louisiana – I hope to be in the Pelican State by noon tomorrow!

Favorite Three Pictures

Bonus Photo – what would you call this? A snow castle? Sand man?

Trip Stats

26 Days, 590 miles

Jars of Peanut Butter – 18

Roadside Change – $1.82

Miles Per Shower (it’s a new walking metric I created) By State

Florida – 71.66

Alabama – 90 (just one shower!)

Mississippi – 42 (trending in the right direction!)

Favorite Roadside Find – My camping spot right next to the Gulf!

Until next time, walk on!

Ben

I resumed my walk from the banks of the Ochlockonee River on Saturday, November 21st. When I was originally planning my trip, I intended to walk the Gulf Coast from Panama City to Pensacola, then over into Alabama. Unfortunately, Hurricane Sally hit the coast in September and damaged the Pensacola Bay Bridge, causing it to close for repairs. With that bridge out of commision, I didn’t have a feasible way to get to Pensacola from the ocean.

Plan B was to continue my trek through the familiar forests of the Florida Panhandle. From my campground, I continued down Highway 20 for another three days, passing through Blountstown, Youngstown, Bruce, and Freeport.

The scenery unexpectedly changed on the walk from Blountstown west. Thick roadside forests quickly dissapeared. At first, I thought it was an anomoly. But it continued for miles. Trees were snapped in half like toothpicks. Houses and businesses were missing roofs and windows. Many were left abandoned. It was an eerie walk for the entire day. I asked Google that night and discovered the damage was due to Hurricane Michael, which hit the Florida Gulf Coast in October of 2018 as a Category 4 storm. Logging is one of the biggest industries in the area. 95 percent of the land in a four county area sustained significant damage. It will take years, possibly decades, for the area to recover economically. It was a sobering reminder of Mother Nature’s power.

After 40 miles of dilapidated forests, familiar Florida pines returned closer to Bruce. When I was five miles away from town, I decided to call the Bruce Country Store to see if I could camp on the business’s property. The owner, Diana, granted me permission, even though they would be closed by the time I got there after dark. It was the first of hopefully many “contactless COVID camping” experiences.

My Highway 20 ride concluded at Freeport, where I headed north on Highway 331. Given that we rarely walk due north, I promised PJ we weren’t heading the wrong way. I experienced some nice road magic on the way to DeFuniak Springs. A man pulled over and gave me an ice cold Gatorade. Then, a woman gave me three homemade turkey sandwiches and a big bag of chips outside of a Wal-Mart.

“Are you living on the side of the highway, honey?” She asked with her sweet, Southern draw.

“By choice, yes. I’m walking across America.”

“You be safe now. Eat up.” That was my Thanksgiving feast!

And the following morning, a man out jogging simply gave me five dollars. He didn’t ask where I was going or what I was doing. He just wished me a happy Thanksgiving and said “God bless you.”

From DeFuniak Springs, I picked up Highway 90 once again. I will be on 90 through the rest of Florida, most of Alabama, and all of Mississippi. My second stint on 90 is off to a rainy start.

After 13 days of picture perfect weather, rain and thunderstorms have settled into the South. The weather has certainly kept me on my toes. I have been doing my best to get in my miles despite the rain.

Thanksgiving Day was the wettest day of the walk so far. I was in between towns when a torrential downpour moved through. I walked through the chilly storm before stopping at a city park and resting under the cover of a gazebo. It gave me an opportunity to talk to my parents, sister, and brother on the holiday in relative comfort. After the the rain let up I was feeling froggy, so I walked another 10 miles, well after dark, on the quiet highway. The stars even came out for the last few miles.

Thanksgiving certainly looked different for a lot of people this year. For me, it was a reminder to appreciate and be grateful for the small things in life. A tent to sleep in during overnight storms. The opportunity to charge my phone so I could talk to my family and text friends. Viewing a beautiful, misty lake at sunrise. Appreciating the shoes on my feet. Being grateful for taking small steps every day to maintain my sobriety. At the end of the day, it is all the small things that add up and make life complete. The trick moving forward is to remember those things every day and have an attitude of gratitude. All good things will follow from there.

As I neared Milton and Pace in coming days, I left rural Florida and entered Northern Pensacola suburbia, complete with traffic, strip malls, and construction zones. PJ and I dodged cones and cars for 30 miles before reaching a hotel eight miles from the Alabama border. With two inches of rain possible in the next 36 hours, splurging for a hotel room seemed prudent! Plus, I get to watch the Broncos play New Orleans. How is that for timing?

From my hotel room in North Pensacola, I will begin my walk to Mobile, which will take two days. Mississippi and Louisiana will be “right around the corner,” Lord willing. Drier, but cooler weather (lows around freezing!) are expected for the next several days.

Favorite Three Pictures

Trip Stats

18 days, 420 miles walked.

Peanut butter jars – 13

Loose Change Count – $1.42

Favorite Roadside Find – A Florida license plate. PJ is officially street legal in the Sunshine State!

Until next time, walk on with gratitude!

-Ben

After nine full days of walking, I have landed on the shores of the Ochlockonee River off Highway 20 in Northern Florida. I am 225 miles into my third walk across America. No signs of any alligators – yet – though I did see a young black bear nearly get hit by a car yesterday! I’m glad he/she could run fast.

I landed in Jacksonville on November 10th and took my first ever Uber (one of many firsts on this trip, I’m sure) to the UPS store in Atlantic Beach where I shipped my stroller, PJ. After reassembling my travel companion, we walked about four miles north to Kathryn Abbey Hanna County Park to camp for the night. We had torrential rain overnight but dry skies in the morning to start the walk!

PJ and I didn’t waste any time and officially started our 2,700 mile journey at 9 AM. Day one included a series of bridge crossings (eight total) over marshes, rivers, and coves north of Jacksonville. Wide shoulder gave us plenty of room to steer clear of moderate traffic. The mosquitoes were still biting though!

I thought I was starting my walk late enough in the South to avoid any tropical storms or hurricanes, but it is 2020…Tropical Storm Eta was slowly moving north towards Jacksonville for days prior to my walk beginning. I elected to get a budget motel room on the first night of my journey. The overnight forecast on the 11th looked terrible, and the storm was supposed to pass over the Jacksonville area around noon on the 12th. Finally, an ETA for Eta! Although heavy rains moved through overnight, the brunt of the storm passed south of me on day two. Eta had also weakened significantly. I decided to walk. Plus, the budget “motel” was quite possibly the worst lodging I have ever encountered. That says a lot coming from a guy who routinely sleeps under bridges and in the woods frequently. I would take a bridge over that place any day!

I spent day two walking through a surprisingly refreshing mist and light rain out of the Jacksonville area and into the country.

On day three I reached Highway 90. What a road! 90 offered a big, comfortable shoulder and low traffic levels. It meandered through several state and national forests filled with towering pine, saw palmetto trees, and cyprus swamps. The occasional idyllic ranch added to the beautiful scenery. I passed through Lake City and Live Oak (where I was able to camp next to the Community Presbyterian Church as opposed to stealth camping) over the next two days.

Socially, it has been a quiet journey so far, but I have been blessed with a few memorable encounters.

About 15 miles outside of Madison, something red in the grass caught my eye. It was a 2 of hearts playing card. I pick up a lot of stuff I find on the roadside to keep as random trip momentos. I thought the card would make a nice bookmark.

About a mile later, a woman named Patty pulled over in a big F-150 truck. She asked me where I was going and what I was doing. “God put you in my path today, Ben,” she told me. Patty lost her son to a heroine overdose three months ago. Her beautiful turquoise eyes were full of pain and sadness.

She was honest about the fact she has drug issues, too, and how she relapsed a few weeks ago. When I told her I was in recovery, her eyes lit up. “That’s why we met.” She said fighting back tears. “I need to hold myself accountable.”

We visited on the roadside for a while and said a prayer together. Patty gave me a donation and asked me to pass along 10 of the dollars she gave me to someone in need down the road. I will.

I said goodbye to Patty and thanked her for sharing her story with me. I took lunch 20 minutes later to reflect on Patty’s generosity and openness.

As I munched on a sandwich, a man in an old white Cadillac pulled over. John greeted me with a big smile. He explained how he had helped another cross-country walker a few years ago. He asked if I accepted donations. I said yes, and that they went towards daily expenses. He pulled a 10 out of his wallet. “Do you have a five you can give me back? I’m pretty strapped right now.” Unfortunately I didn’t. I insisted he take the money back, but he refused. “Keep all of it and have a great walk!” I thanked John and tucked away the bill. I was blown away by Patty and John’s generosity.

As I finished eating lunch, I pulled the card out of my pocket. “Weird, I thought. It’s a 2 of hearts, and two people with two huge hearts just went out of their way to help me out.” Coincidence? I’ll let you be the judge.

My next few days took me through Madison and Monticello. I cowboy camped (no tent, just a sleeping bag under the stars) in some woods off the highway both nights.

I reached Tallahassee on day eight. Instead of getting a hotel room for the night, I elected to do laundry and found a spot to urban stealth camp. Tallahassee joins my ever-growing list of cities, which includes Montreal, Ottawa, Kansas City, San Fransisco, Norfolk, Lexington, and the Portlands where I have successfully stealth camped!

Yesterday I took in Florida’s capital city on the walk west through town. I stopped by the capitol building and meandered through FSU’s campus before reaching Highway 20 and walking to my current location.

All in all, I am thrilled with the way the first 10 days of my journey have gone. Due to COVID, people are understandably wary about approaching a man pushing a stroller down the side of the highway (more so than normal!). But I still had numerous pleasant encounters with people, and the folks I have met have been very friendly and helpful.

From Riverfront Campground, I will begin the 225ish mile walk towards Pensacola and the Alabama border tomorrow morning. I’m hoping to be in the second state of my journey a day or two after Thanksgiving.

Favorite Three Pictures

Trip Stats

10 days, 225 miles walked

Jars of peanut butter – 7

Roadside change – .52 cents

Favorite Roadside Find – 2 of hearts playing card!

One flat tire – the road really “screwed” me. I picked up a massive screw in my front tire yesterday, which quickly caused a flat.

Thanks for reading! Walk on!

Ben

On November 11th, 2020, my much anticipated third walk across America should begin. I purposefully throw in some sort of disclaimer when I talk about my upcoming journey. During these unprecedented times, plans can change in an instant. When folks have asked how long this walk will take, I tell them “exactly four to eight months” because truthfully, I don’t know how things are going to go. Flexibility and staying positive will be essential if I hope to successfully complete my crossing of the Southern States. With so many unknowns and our country in a constant state of change, I have adopted three key mantras for my walk. “Control what I can control,” “a new set of problems requires a new set of solutions,” and my personal favorite, “one day, one step at a time.”

In theory, my walk will begin in Jacksonville, Florida, and I will trek west for the foreseeable future, passing through Florida, Georgia, Alabama, Mississippi, Louisiana, Texas (with 800 miles of walking in the Lone Star State, I’ll let you know if everything really is bigger in Texas), New Mexico, Arizona, and California. My walk will end in San Diego and will take as long as it takes.

First, I would like to address the elephant in the room (or maybe it’s a donkey, depending on the outcome of the election). It’s no surprise that I have caught a little flak about deciding to walk across the country in the midst of a pandemic and potential election-related chaos. I fully comprehend what is at stake and have a plan in place to keep myself, and others, safe.

Here are my self-imposed guidelines. Wear a mask in public. Sanitize my hands regularly. Carry a week’s supply of food and water to limit grocery store/gas station trips (gasp, that means less coffee since I don’t carry a stove!). Avoid staying in hotels/motels (I’m frugal by nature and love camping, so no problem there). Avoid bars and parties (check, I’m in recovery). Limited indoor dining (I’m fine with tuna fish, cheese-wiz, and peanut butter, thank you). Avoid crowds and large gatherings (I feel uncomfortable in crowds anyway). Socialize with people outdoors (I will be outside 99.9 percent of the time on this journey). I’m also planning on avoiding densely populated areas and big cities whenever possible. Though I would like to visit the Alamo in San Antonio. Fortunately, I will have plenty of solitude on this walk, but I assure you, I will respect local rules and regulations relating to COVID. If a state locks down, I will lock it down, too.

Now, onto the fun stuff! My “jogging” stroller, PJ, is already packed up and on his way to Jacksonville. Currently, he is aboard a UPS semi-truck – probably in the middle of Missouri or Illinois. He will probably beat me to Jacksonville by a day. After I land on November 10th, I will make the 25 mile, three hour, city bus trip from Jacksonville International Airport to The UPS Store in Atlantic Beach where I will pick up and reassemble a very claustrophobic and pissed off stroller (PJ doesn’t like confined spaces). From there, we will walk four miles north to Kathryn Abbey Hanna County Park and camp for the night. My walk will begin on the beach the following morning.

Physically, I am ready for the journey. I spent the summer as a “lawn care professional,” (though I prefer “grubby lawn guy”) cutting grass. After mowing roughly 1,400 lawns (and walking about 1,500 miles) over the summer, trading a lawn mower for a jogging stroller should be a relatively easy transition. My summer and fall also included plenty of hikes in the mountains and evening walks. I was on my feet a lot! I’m hoping to dive right in and start covering some decent miles (22-26 miles per day) right away.

My next update, hopefully, will be from the shoulder of Highway 90 in the Florida Panhandle.

I realize how blessed I am to be able to attempt a third crossing of the U.S. on foot. None of this would be possible without my sobriety (which began on May 14th, 2017), my evolving spirituality, and the amazing support from friends and family scattered throughout the country. Walking is a powerful tool that I utilize on a daily basis in recovery. I hope that my journey inspires you to walk. I hope that if you are struggling with alcoholism or an addiction issue, my story encourages you to ask for help. If my experience and efforts help even one person, all of this will be worthwhile.

Get ready for some great stories from the highway shoulders of the South and plenty of mediocre puns. This is going to be a blast!

Walk on,

Ben

I played a lot of games to keep myself entertained during my 150 day Maine to Oregon walk. One of my favorites was “How did Ben’s walk across America end?” When I found myself doing a necessary, but often ridiculous trip task, like hanging a bear bag in the dark or running across a narrow bridge, I would ask myself “How did Ben’s walk across America end?” And then answer my question, from an outsider’s perspective, depending on the situation. “Well, he broke an ankle when he slipped on a rock. He was hanging a bear bag.” Or “He didn’t run fast enough across a bridge, and ended up in the grill of a semi.” My answers were typically accompanied by a good laugh. Facing very real dangers daily is part of every cross-country walk. I was always one distracted driver, one slip, one snake bite away from a catastrophe. The game was my way of reminding myself that every successful step of this journey was a blessing. I coped with the dangers I faced by looking them square in the eyes and laughing. Walking in fear was not an option. But I certainly had a healthy respect for the dangers that lurked around every corner.

On September 8th, 2018, I turned 32. And I finally was able to answer the question “How did Ben’s walk across America end” in a satisfactory way. It would end with a final step into the Pacific Ocean in Seaside, Oregon.

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I arrived in Seaside on the afternoon of September 7th. I could have finished that day, but I wanted to sleep one mile away from the ocean. I wanted to officially be on the road, walking across America, for one more night. It would allow me time to reflect. I would return to a “normal life” soon enough. I wanted to be the crazy walker just a little longer.

The morning of the 8th began like every other walking day. I threw on my favorite smelly polyester athletic shirt (a Denver Broncos shirt I wore on the final day of my first walk) and running shorts. I put on my sock liners and compression socks and laced up my walking shoes. I slathered my face, neck, arms, and ears in sunscreen and threw on my Kissing Camels ball cap. I walked out to PJ and pushed on his tires to ensure they had enough air in them for the final mile.

My hosts from Portland, Steve and Irene, were making the trip to Seaside to join me for my final walk. I took a few birthday phone calls from family and friends while I waited. The couple arrived at 11 AM. The three of us left Seaside International Hostel and walked towards downtown.

It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining. A light breeze blew off the ocean. Irene, who is a professional photographer, was across the street taking photos. Steve, who was at my side when we left the hostel, slowed down and walked 30 feet behind me. I took in the moment, praying that I could soak up and remember every small detail from my remaining steps – every bump in the sidewalk, the smell of fresh cut grass, the chirping birds, and the whoosh sound PJ’s rain cover made as it brushed up against the left tire.

150 days of memories flashed before my eyes while I walked down quiet Holladay Street. There was the bear spray incident in Ontario. Close encounters with cars. Middle fingers. Blisters. Heat. Smoke. Wind. Solitude.

And there were the people. Completing my walk would not have been possible without hundreds of people (spanning 10 states and two Canadian Provinces) helping me out on a daily basis. The folks I met housed me, fed me, hydrated me, clothed me, encouraged me, inspired me, and loved me. I could not have done it without my family’s unwavering support. And I certainly wouldn’t be standing here, upright, healthy, and happy without God’s steady hand on my shoulder. I am eternally grateful for the support and love I have been shown by family and friends, near and far.

As fate would have it, Seaside was hosting a vintage car show over the weekend. Classic cars were parked along the downtown drag. The avenue was closed to vehicle traffic – pedestrians only. Finally, after 3,400 miles, I had found a driver free street after turning right on Broadway.

PJ and I slowly meandered through the crowd, receiving the typical “what the hell is this guy doing” looks. We reached the Seaside Promenade, where an American flag whipped in the wind over a statue of Lewis and Clark, who ended the first half of their groundbreaking expedition just north of that spot. The two explorers are peering west at the majestic Pacific.

I walked down a ramp to the beach just left of the statue. At first I could still push PJ through the sand, but it eventually became too thick. PJ needed to touch the ocean, too. I pulled him the rest of the way.

I pulled PJ for 75 yards. I joked with Steve that I should have finished my walk at high tide. “Almost there!” I yelled. I was out of breath as we approached the water.

I took off my shoes and socks and paused before taking my final steps into the ocean. I was singing the Britney Spears song “Oops I Did It Again” as I walked into the Pacific.

The cold water felt heavenly on my feet. I stood there for some time as waves soaked my knees and crashed against PJ’s wheels. Blisters from 3,400 miles of walking were soothed. The water washed away the loose skin from the soles of my feet. I felt like I was dreaming. And just like that, it was over.

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Trip Stats

Total Days -150

Total Miles – 3,402 (Officially!)

Total Peanut Butter Jars – 115

Total Loose Change Count – $9.12

Favorite Roadside Find – The Pacific Ocean.

Favorite Three Pictures

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“Progress, not perfection” was the mantra for my journey. I made geographical progress every day, but was never perfect while doing so. More importantly, I wanted to make personal progress. I didn’t set out on this trip to “fix myself” or have an epiphany about how we can attain world peace. I set out to learn more about myself and continue to grow as a person. I’ll never be perfect. What fun would that be anyway?

Walking was my catalyst for progress, and will continue to be moving forward. Thanks to the people who came into my life during the walk, and the challenges along the way, I have made some progress. Walking has impacted my life in countless ways – I have been sober since April 16th, 2017. Walking is my favorite coping mechanism and allows me to deal with life’s stresses in a healthy way. Walking continues to teach me patience. Walking forces me to slow down and offers a front row seat to the beauty our world has to offer. Walking keeps me healthy, physically and mentally. And walking offers an opportunity to be introspective and reflective.

Fortunately, a person doesn’t need to walk across America to reap the benefits of walking. Just lace up your shoes and go. Anytime, anywhere. The benefits are steps away. I truly hope that my journey has inspired you to get out and walk.

On that note, I think it’s about time for a walk.

With gratitude and love, walk on!

Ben

 

 

 

 

 

After a quiet night of sleep in Three Mile Canyon, I set my sights on Portland. I didn’t know it at the time, but that would be the last night I would sleep in my tent on my walk.

Part of the reason I had taken the previous afternoon off was to plan out my walk into Portland. Not so much where I was going to sleep, but the best way to go about tackling the interstate ahead.

People had warned me about some narrow stretches on I-84 and several construction zones. I used a combination of Google Satellite and Street View, and Oregon’s Department of Transportation website to plan a route that would make upcoming miles as safe as possible. I memorized which exits to take, where I would follow frontage roads, where I would walk with traffic, and at what mile markers several unavoidable narrow bridges were. The most challenging stretches of the walk would be between Hood River and the east side of Portland, which I would hit three days after leaving Three Mile Canyon.

My 36 mile walk to The Dalles was straight forward. I just had to put one foot in front of the other 76,000 times. I officially entered the Columbia River Gorge Scenic Area a bit west of Rufus and approached The Dalles at dusk. Impressive Mount Hood was visible to the southwest and the massive Dalles Dam was lit up like a Christmas tree as I made my way into town.

Finding a place in a city to pitch my tent was always problematic. After I ate three cheeseburgers, a chicken sandwich, and an ice cream cone, I slept behind some trees with a view of the McDonald’s arch where I just had dinner. I would walk a fine line between bum and simplistic traveler in my final days in Oregon.

Hood River was my destination the following day. After 20 miles on the interstate, I was able to follow the lone stretch of the Old Highway 30 Historic Bike Trail that hadn’t been affected by the Eagle Creek Fire the year before. The trail climbed several hundred feet into the hills surrounding the Columbia River. As soon as I gained elevation, I went from a semi-arid desert landscape into beautiful ponderosa pine forests. Moss covered logs and rocks lined the forest floor. I was transported to a different world in a matter of miles. The views from the trail were incredible, too.

At the high point of the trail, I met a man named Ian who was out for a jog with his three-year-old daughter. He invited me to stay with his family in Hood River. I jumped at the opportunity to sleep inside for a night. Their home was three miles out of the way, but I didn’t mind.

Once I got into town, I headed due south. Downtown Hood River sits on a little bluff above the Columbia. To get to Ian’s house, I had to climb out of the valley floor….again. The road I chose from downtown had a 20% grade. I took a running start but quickly slowed down. I wasn’t sure if I had enough energy to get to the top of the 75 yard hill. I had already walked 30 miles and was beat. PJ and I moved painfully slowly. A family walked past us, clearly amused. I was out of breath but felt like I owed them an explanation. I paused at an intersection. “I am walking across America. These hills suck after walking 30 miles already!” They laughed and approached me.

“I think you dropped something,” the father said. I looked around, confused. He handed me a 20 dollar bill. I thanked them for the donation and pushed harder up the remainder of the hill, not wanting to show my exhaustion.

I arrived at Ian’s house 20 minutes later. The family had a heaping portion of fish and steamed rice waiting for me. I was thrilled.

I retraced my steps in the morning, heading back down the 20% grade of 12th Street into downtown. I couldn’t walk straight down the hill considering how steep the road was. Gravity worked against me, and I didn’t think I could keep my footing as PJ did his best to race down the hill. Instead I walked down the street “slolam ski style,” carving an S shape on the pavement. I caught a few curious glances from people who were in their front yards as PJ and I slowly meandered down the hill.

Today was a big day. I hoped to get through three of the four sections of I-84 I had deemed as dangerous in my planning. I walked with traffic from mile marker 56 to 51, avoiding a construction zone and blind curve around one of the massive canyon walls. The worst part of that stretch was a half mile section where PJ’s left tire was inches inside the white line. To my right was a guardrail and the Columbia River. There was nowhere to bail. I put my life into the driver’s hands. I let out a triumphant fist pump when we took exit 51.

After another 8 miles of walking a frontage road, I arrived in Cascade Locks, home to Bridge of the Gods.

From Cascade Locks, I walked with traffic from mile marker 44 to mile marker 40 to avoid a tunnel on the other side of the road. A lengthy bridge (which, fortunately, offered a wider shoulder) was unnerving to cross but was certainly safer than a dark tunnel given the amount of traffic. I was through obstacle two of four.

The next two hurdles were a pair of shoulderless bridges. They weren’t terribly long, maybe 60 or 70 yards, but given holiday traffic levels (it was the Friday before Labor Day weekend), my best hope was to cross them at dusk or dawn.

I arrived at the first bridge at dusk, waited for a gap in traffic, and ran. PJ’s front tire started wiggling uncontrollably halfway across. “Not now PJ!” I yelled. I had to slow down to get the tire rolling true again. I sped walked the rest of the way. A semi approached 10 feet from the edge of the bridge. He moved to my right a few feet while we cleared the end of the bridge onto the safety of the shoulder. “What a rush!” I hollered. “Whoooooooooo!”

There was one more bridge to go, but it would have to wait until morning. PJ and I walked another five miles on a frontage road and ended the eventful day at mile marker 35. I slept next to a massive ponderosa pine between the frontage road and a freeway on-ramp.

We tackled the final bridge first thing in the morning. My walk started at 6. I wanted to cross the bridge before the sun came up and started blinding drivers heading east. Four cars passed us on the bridge during our crossing. We avoided any close calls, much to my relief.

“Now we can cruise PJ!”

With Portland 35 miles away, I relaxed a bit, and was even able to play tourist for a few hours with a visit to Multnomah Falls. Most of the waterfalls and scenic viewpoints were closed due to the fire. Guards were stationed 24/7 at all the trailheads and parking lots to ensure people didn’t enter the burned areas, which were about everywhere except for the interstate and the few frontage roads I could walk. The falls were a beautiful place to spend a Saturday morning.

After viewing the falls, I was even able to help a distressed motorist! A guy named Chicoby was having engine trouble. While working on his car, he managed to get a bandana stuck in one of the belts (I’m still unclear how it happened!). With the use of my needle nose pliers, a lighter, and some fine hammering, we got the bandana out. It only took an hour. Over the next 15 miles, I passed another four disabled vehicles. I was of no use to them though!

I said goodbye to Interstate 84 at the Troutdale exit and began my suburban Portland walk. I slept in an urban forest in Gresham. Other than some raccoons scurrying by my sleeping bag at 4 AM (which scared the crap out of me) it was a great spot.

I walked across the Hawthrone Bridge into downtown the following morning. After 15 days and 380 miles of walking since Tekoa, Washington, I was ready for a day off.

Back when I was having lunch at a Subway in Colfax, Washington, a man named Steve had walked in. He saw PJ outside, and said “Are you walking across America?” We hit it off immediately.

Steve walked across America a few years ago. His journey took four years – from 2012 to 2016. The main difference in our walks – he travelled with a goat! Steve was raising money for an orphanage in Africa. The goats (he actually had two on his trip, Leroy and Miles) maxed out at 10 miles per day. Man did he have some stories!

I stayed with Steve and his wife, Irene (who was part of Steve’s remote support team) for two nights. We had a ball sharing road stories. We also hit some Portland attractions, including Voodoo Donuts and Porter’s Bookstore. After a restful day off, I was ready for my final push to the Pacific.

I left Portland on September 4th. Getting out of downtown and into the suburbs was a challenge. Hills just west of the city center, and windy, narrow roads, forced me to walk south before heading west to Beaverton. After 14 miles, I reached the affluent suburb of Hillsboro, past Nike’s International Headquarters, and found a spot to sleep off a bike path surrounded by expensive condos.

I reached Highway 26 the following afternoon, and saw my first sign for Seaside – my eventual destination – 56 miles away! My heart soared.

Dusk approached and I started looking for a sleeping spot. The thick forests were proving difficult to wheel PJ into, and the roads that led into several state forests were gated shut due to high fire danger. No guards, but a gate was enough to keep me out. I settled on a spot off a logging road under some power lines. There wasn’t enough room to pitch my tent in the shrubs. Throwing out my sleeping bag on top of my Thermarest pad (which no longer held air) was my new routine.

I marveled at the Milky Way overhead. Several shooting stars made my grin even bigger.

“We are gonna coast to the ocean PJ!” I said confidently to my buggy before I drifted off to sleep. Highway 26 had been a joy to walk so far. The large, evenly paved shoulder should continue clear through to Seaside. Oregon had different plans.

PJ and I started rolling down the road at dawn the next morning. My plan was to finish my walk on September 8th – my 32nd birthday. 40 miles in two days should be a breeze!

After a few easy miles, the highway began a steady climb through Oregon’s Coastal Range. The mountains weren’t massive, but a 1,000 feet of elevation gain still had my heart rate up. After lunch and a nap at a rest area, we reached the summit of the coastal range at 1,642 feet.

From there, the shoulder quickly dissapeared. PJ and I were faced with “Double G’s” (guardrails on both sides of the road), blind curves, and a new obstacle – shade. The massive trees that lined the highway cast shadows on the road, which would make it a bit tougher for cars to see us, especially when they would drive out of sunlight and into the shade. I lashed my bike light to the handlebars and put it in strobe mode to be more visible. Despite my strobe light, it didn’t feel like much of a party. I darted from one side of the road to the other when approaching a blind curve. Then ran back across when the road briefly straightened out. I wasn’t thinking about how many miles were left. I was too busy making sure PJ and I didn’t end up in the grill of a logging truck.

At one point, I ran over a spring that caused my right tire to go flat. I pushed PJ off the road, moved several six foot logs, and pumped up the tire, hoping it would hold. It would have been a dangerous spot to go through the process of changing a flat. Fortunately, the tire held.

It was a stressful, but strangely fun afternoon.

After 10 miles of shoulderless walking PJ and I called it a day 22 miles from Seaside. Our last night spent outside was under a canopy of pine trees on a springy bed of pine needles.

I couldn’t wait to get started the next morning with Seaside in sight. PJ and I immediately climbed over one final hill, David Douglas Summit, at a modest 1,300 feet, and began the long, curvy descent into Seaside. It was literally all downhill from there!

I forced myself to stop and take breaks once I was within 15 miles of Seaside. I wanted to slow myself down and really soak in the last few miles of my walk. It was glad I took some breaks to relax because the walking into Seaside was anything but relaxing. The road had widened slightly, but a steady stream of cars left me on my guard. I was less than 10 miles from the Pacific, but might as well have been back in Montana. I chipped away at the remaining miles into town. 9….8….7….6….

“Just get to Seaside. Just get to Seaside.”

At 3 o’clock on September 7th I arrived at the “Welcome to Seaside” sign. Traffic was so heavy it took 10 minutes to get across the road so I could get a proper photo to commemorate the moment. Passing cars had no idea what I went through to get a picture next to that damn sign!

The Pacific was less than a mile away. I didn’t want to see it yet. My 32nd birthday was the next day. The ocean, and the official completion of my walk, would be my birthday gift.

Trip Stats –

Days – 149

Miles – 3,405

Peanut Butter Jars – 114

Loose Change Count – $9.12

Favorite Roadside Find(s) – Fruit! Blackberries (which are considered an invasive plant in much of Oregon) grew wild nearly everywhere off Highway 26 between Portland and Seaside. When I was low on energy I just stopped and picked a handful of berries! Or as I was waiting for a line of cars to pass before darting to the next “safe zone” on narrow 26, I would snag a few berries and snack next to the highway.

Favorite Three Pictures –

Spoiler alert! I made it to the Pacific! I will be putting together another blog post in the next week detailing my final, eventful mile to the ocean. Steve and Irene took the time to come join me in Seaside on my final walking day. It would end up being one of the best days of my life. The emotions I felt, and some closing thoughts about this amazing journey, deserve their own post.

Walk on!