No Stranger Land

Summer 2008

2008-08-23T11:49:00.001-05:00

Coast to coast

2008-08-04T21:25:00.004-05:00

Yes, we jumped into the chilly Pacific on August 2. Yes, there is still an excuse to continue checking the site...

A slideshow of the best of No Stranger Land will appear shortly.

No Stranger Land t-shirts will be available even sooner.

We ask that you please continue to check for updates as we absorb what just happened these last 75 days and attempt to reflect the journey's overall meaning.

Thanks for following along!

-DC & BT

26 days under par

2008-08-01T16:31:00.011-05:00

RENO, NEVADA - August 1 -- We are a short drive or a very long walk away from swimming in the Pacific, and I can almost taste the salt water. There was some confusion that the journey was over after the last video post, but that is still a bit premature because the completion of the trip will be met once we reach the opposite coast.

***

Brian and I have been staying with Scott and Taylor in the 'The Biggest Little City in the World.' Seeing the new Will Ferrell and John C. Reilly movie, Step Brother, made me feel like I wasn't trekking across the country anymore, but just hanging out with a few good buddies.

Scotty works for the Reno-Tahoe open, a PGA Tour event. My first volunteer opportunity was introducing Art Sellinger, the two-time long drive champion, to a crowd of people eager to watch him crush some golf balls. I was unusually relaxed standing in front of the audience and the news cameras. Michelle Wie hitting balls at the driving range behind me didn't even get my palms sweating, perhaps the confidence I have in myself has grown more than I can measure from the summer. Art gave a quick tutorial of the game of golf and then hit some wacky shots, including a golf ball through a board, a watermelon and off of a baseball tee.

Our second day of volunteering was during the actual PGA Tour event. Brian was on crowd noise control on the green of the par-three sixteenth hole. Going with the Spanish theme, one side of his sign read 'SILENCIO' while the other said 'GO LOCO.' The sign was fitting with the mariachi band playing in the background. At one point, a pro golfer threw his hands up in frustration when the band accidentally started playing while he was concentrating on a birdie put. I was at the entrance, wearing a sombrero I'd clipped off the wall, making sure people were of age and had their passes to enjoy margaritas and the upbeat atmosphere.

So, we're in Reno, headed for San Francisco and the finale to the trip. It's a bittersweet feeling to see the end of the journey. I don't want it to end but am excited to complete something that seemed so distant on May 20th.

-DC

Extras

2008-07-30T20:19:00.002-05:00

Piecing together a roadtrip

2008-07-28T14:53:00.015-05:00

RENO, NEVADA - July 28 -- 'What happened to walking?' commented an anonymous viewer recently.

It's been replaced. Replaced by something we've never tried before in our entire lives. It's called hitch hiking, and it's invigorating.

We've also been called out before for having a constantly fluid summer project. We wouldn't have it any other way. We're learning as much as we're telling along the way. Although the west has already been discovered, we're discovering it for ourselves for the first time, navigating throughout it thanks to kind strangers who feel like showing us around. If we were to walk throughout the deserts without a support vehicle, not only would we be risking our health and possibly our lives, we wouldn't see one damn person for 100 miles and would therefor not have any stories to tell aside from describing how bored we were. And also, being low on steam and money, we are wanting to reach the Pacific sooner rather than later.

'I could hitch rides across the U.S. too,' the viewer finished off the comment.

My advice. Do it! It's incredible. It's a perfect way to roll the dice at never knowing who you're going to meet and where you're going to end up. You can only do so much on foot - typically 20 monotonous miles a day. It's the lack of agenda and not having any more possessions other than what we can carry that allows us to blow like tumbleweeds across the vast country. We walked 600 miles out east and had many stories to tell. We've given our feet a rest out west, but the stories keep on coming, and that's what really matters. Oh, and it's nice to not have feet that look like someone took a cheese grater to them.

***

MOAB, UTAH - Amanda dropped us off at the Maverick gas station on the north end of main street. The rock climbing guide said this would be our best chance to catch a lift out of town. It wasn't more than five minutes after she drove off that a petite woman parked in front of our bags and asked us where we were headed.

'I can take you three hours west,' she said like it was no big deal.

Sarah was a white water rafting guide. It seemed like guides took to us well, maybe because they could relate to our kind. She had her boss' Mercedes for the week and there was plenty of room for a couple wanderers.

Instead of riding with her all the way to Richfield, we parted ways just 45 minutes away in Green River. We did so because this was the road that led north toward Salt Lake City, and Denny and I had decided that was the direction we wanted to go. It seemed silly that this was our mission since we could've ridden all the way there with Liz two days prior, but there's no sense in thinking about those things, and we wouldn't have gotten to experience Moab had we not done it this way.

***

GREEN RIVER, UTAH - The road sign said it all - 'Next service station - 106 miles.' It was official. We were in the middle of nowhere, aside from a pair of gas stations. One shared a building with an Arby's. The other with a Subway. We opted for the $5 footlongs and decided it was healthier crowd on that side of the road, so maybe they'd be happier and want to give a couple kids a lift. I'm not sure this theory makes much sense, but when Denny stated it, I nodded my head.

We waited six hours on our asses. After the first hour, we decided to split up. I took the Arby's crowd. One couple pulled up with a license plate that read 'IAHawkz.' I chatted with them about our Alma Mater, but they had no room in their car. It brightened my afternoon nonetheless.

Denny and I agreed to reserve phone calls only for good news. Text frivolous things, but only call when something good happens. I had switched posts and decided to sit by the on ramp, multiplying the number of passersby. One shirtless man stopped when he saw my Salt Lake City sign. He was prepared to take me, but when I said there was one more, he sped off before I could convince him to wait.

A few minutes later, I heard a pair of honks. A 55-year-old Navajo Indian couple had come to our aid. I promised them my friend was on his way but panicked on the inside when Denny didn't answer his phone after three calls. I was certain we were going to blow it. I asked questions about where they were coming from until Denny finally appeared. They didn't have the room for us, but they made it anyway. Howard and Beverly were carrying a 4,000-pound load of flour from their motherland in New Mexico up to their home in Salt Lake City. They had made this trip four times a year for the past 35 years.

'Have you ever picked up people before?' I asked.

'Oh yeah,' they said simultaneously, launching into a series of stories of helping folks on foot.

With the windows down and the cool mountain air blowing in, Denny couldn't hear a thing in the back seat, so I did most of the conversing over the course of the next three hours. I don't have too much in common with the Navajo tribe, but we related to each other that evening in spite of our contrasting backgrounds. Beverly handed us necklaces to protect us from ghosts and hugged us goodbye as we parted ways. She made us promise to call her to let her know we were safe.

***

SALT LAKE CITY, UTAH - We checked into a Motel 6 for the night - a luxury in our summer world. I went to fetch some McDonald's for dinner. The dollar menu is a close second to $5 footlongs when it comes to eating for cheap. A beggar asked me for some money on the way. I didn't have money to give, but I did buy extra double cheeseburgers for him for when I passed back by.

While in McDonald's, an NBA player whose name I don't know, was purchasing food for a homeless man. I knew he was in the NBA since a pair of kids hadn't stopped whispering about it in front of me in line. The man only ordered two things.

'You sure you don't want more?' the tall, well-groomed athlete said to the scruffy, smelly man next to him. I know he wanted more, but he didn't ask for more. I had goosebumps.

When I walked back to the hotel, the man who asked for change was gone. I ended up eating too much that night.

Denny and I grilled a pair of Mormon girls staying next to us with questions about their beliefs late into the night. I have so many questions for religious people, but I'm always afraid of offending them. We escaped without conflict.

Liz, who had given us a ride from El Paso to Moab, picked us up the next morning to take us to her favorite burrito joint. We got to share the backseat with her three beautiful girls ages 15 months to 9 years. Life always makes sense to me when kids are around.

It was funny to see someone we had grown close with a few days earlier just a few days later. Liz dropped us at a popular exit off of I-80.

'Mom, where are we going?' asked the 9-year-old.

It was a fair question. Maybe she'll understand what we were up to some day. Then again, maybe it will never make sense to some people.

***

I-80, UTAH - We switched posts several times, trying to form the best strategy. We were new at this. I don't think it would be nearly as exciting if it were easy, but you lose hope quickly when hundreds of drivers pass right by without even acknowledging your presence.

Denny was a quarter mile down the road when a truck stopped next to me at the Flying J. The woman in the passenger seat was wasted drunk, but her husband seemed just fine behind the wheel. Preparedness meets opportunity equal a ride west. And opportunities weren't showing their face too often that day, so I hopped in the truck bed.

'My friend's just down the road,' I explained through the back window.

Denny did a double take when he saw me stand up in the back of an unfamiliar pickup.

'He's trippin' out, isn't he?' laughed the intoxicated woman.

Denny hopped in as I explained we were destined for Nevada, just over the Utah border. This would get us a quarter of the way to Reno.

'You can have some Heinekens if you want,' the woman offered, pointing to the case next to us.

'Thanks,' I said as the truck began doing 80 on 80.

It wasn't the safest thing I've ever done, but boy was it liberating. Denny and I hardly spoke as the wind whipped at our bodies. The sky seemed bigger that day as we watched mountains and fluffy white clouds and salt fields pass by. After nearly 70 days in a row spent together, I think it's safe to say we knew what one another was thinking.

As we slowed down in the gambling mecca, Wendover - otherwise known as little Reno - we asked to take a photo of the woman.

'Want a photo of my boobs??' she asked.

We were thankful she was joking. She laughed hysterically at her own joke as we hopped out of the truck and thanked them.

***

WENDOVER, NEVADA - We found the on ramp to 80 west and sat for 10 minutes before getting restless, wondering if another entrance to the freeway would be more productive.

Denny and I walked a half hour roundtrip before we realized this was the only on ramp around for miles. We regained our ground and took a seat, holding up a pair of signs - 'Reno?' and 'Going west?'

We noticed a man across the road from us holding his own sign asking for money due to the fact that his car was broken down. After a few minutes, he began walking over to us. I'll admit I sighed when I saw this, thinking he was only trying to get something out of us.

The man who was missing his front teeth explained that he had been hitch hiking for 38 years and that it was obvious our odds would be increased if we walked 10 feet and sat on the other side of the on ramp.

I handed him $2 for his advice even though I had no idea of its value.

When he retook his seat on the other side of the street, I flashed him a peace sign.

'Happy travels,' he yelled, pointing to something going on behind me.

I was oblivious to the white van that had pulled over. Denny was already climbing in.

I stared back at our friend, who was smiling and waving goodbye. I'm sure he was proud of the advice he had given. He sure knew what he was talking about.

'Hurry up goddammit!' yelled the shirtless, shoeless man in the van. Denny and I were in a frenzy, trying to throw our bags in the trunk and take a seat. I wasn't sure why this man was in a hurry, or why this man who was in a hurry had bothered to stop for us, but I was sure we were destined to make it to Reno by sunset.

We warmed up to Mike immediately. The Detroit native had his degree in bio-psychology and was living in Sonoma county in California. He chain smoked and pounded iced coffee. He was on his way home from a roadtrip in Atlanta, where he was visiting a girlfriend. I found it very intriguing and relaxing that he didn't ask any questions about what we were up to or why.

I sat in the back, reading 'Love is a Mix Tape', and dozing off while Denny chatted it up with Mike, who drove at speeds reaching 100. We would cover the 400 miles to Reno in no time at all.

***

RENO, NEVADA - Scotty, one of my best friends in the world, laughed at the sight of us as we embraced in a powerful man hug. His girlfriend Taylor introduced us to their dog Betty.

'You guys sure look dirty,' Scotty commented. He promised us showers, clean clothes, and pizza. Plus, I knew the company was guaranteed to be good. What more could a couple hitch hikers ask for?

-BT

Rockin' time

2008-07-25T17:01:00.015-05:00

SALT LAKE CITY, UTAH - July 25 -- I had never taken a lesson in rock climbing and had never seen it done in person. But there I was, being taught how to belay from a professional guide in Moab. After Brian, who had taken a college course in rock climbing, was done making it to the top of the 80-foot climb, I strapped the equipment around me to begin ascending. I only made it halfway to the top before succumbing to defeat. I felt pretty pathetic. Scott made me feel better though, telling me he was impressed on how well I did without ever trying the sport before. It was a little disappointing for me at the time, but looking back it was one of the highlights of the summer.

It's the west, so we can't walk or else we could die. We made signs - 'Heading West?' I thought we should've been more hip and written, 'Headin', but nevertheless we sat with our sign off the side of the road by a hotel near the outside of town. There was no action for an hour and a half, so we headed back into town where we picked up a couple of padlocks to lock our stuff up as we roamed around. A guy at the counter made a comment that we must be rich to be able to travel across America. It was an ironic statement because our funds are nearly depleted.

Scott and Amanda were waiting off the side of the road. They asked what we were up to and eventually invited us back to their house. We all hung out for about fifteen minutes before they had to go back to work.

'Okay, guys, I'll be back in about an hour, just pop in a movie if you want,' Scott said.

Brian and I were all alone in their house, watching Anchorman, a movie who's lines have monopolized our conversations at times during the summer. Scott soon came back and had us trail him in his 5-speed Subaru so he could return his work vehicle. We had only known each other for a short period of time, and he was already trusting us completely.

He brought us to a free dinner later that evening that a group of locals put on every night in the town park. The small group was dynamic, with older men mingling with younger guys and girls. There was a sense of passion for the outdoors that was hard to resist because of the warm vibe.

***

They call it 'dumpster diving.' Going through the garbage of local businesses who throw out food that expired that day.

'We probably eat better now after we started dumpster diving because we eat whatever produce they throw out so it gives us a better balance,' Amanda said.

Once a store gets a new shipment of fruits or vegetable, they put all the old food in a box and throw it in a dumpster out back. There's nothing wrong with the food except it's not as fresh as the new shipment. Even packaged food is thrown out if the expiration date has passed. We snagged a bag of rolls that expired the same day as the dive. It may not sound like the most glamorous of ways to gather food for dinner, but after seeing how well it worked, I feel like a sucker for spending money on the same food they get for free.

Throughout this trip we have lived the lifestyle of many people, but none that viewed life with such simplicity. Scott and Amanda's passion was to be outdoors, rock/ice climb as often as they could and live with limited complications.

Scott told us of Moab, 'It's a hard place to get rich, but an easy place to get by.'

-DC

The young and the westless

2008-07-23T20:50:00.013-05:00

MOAB, UTAH – July 23 – I was wide awake for it being only 7:45 a.m. Getting dropped off at a gas station in a town of barely over 1,000 people in the heart of West Texas will do that to you, I suppose.

It may seem like something always works out on this journey, but before it does, we are left feeling vulnerable, intimidated and doubtful that our serendipity will kick in.

We threw our bags down and formed a game plan on a bench.

'Okay, how about this. I'll take a loop around the Flying J and see what's going on,' I proposed to Denny. 'You watch the bags. Cool?'

'Cool.'

I returned with the following valuable information:

'Okay, there's a sweet section for truckers to hang out that's completely empty. The chairs look pretty comfortable. And then there's a bunch of booths with outlets.'

'Sweet.'

We found a booth to our liking. Denny began to work on the blog while I played a round of Big Buck Hunter in the game room while building up the courage to participate in the day's lesson of humility.

'Okay, I'll sit out there for a couple hours while you work,' I told Denny. 'Wish me luck.'

I debated making a sign from cardboard. What should it say? Heading west? Have room for a couple more? Please help?

I skipped the sign, placed my bag strategically on the ground against a pillar so the padding would provide a comfortable hangout and pulled out the Time 100 most influential people in the world edition. I picked up where I left off - Baitullah Mehsud - and prepared for a long game of waiting.

Denny and I learned a slang term on the Appalachian Trail called 'yogiing.' It means asking without asking. Professional 'hinting at' in a way. It's not about taking advantage of people, but simply planting ideas in their heads that their help could be of great importance.

I will admit we are getting good at this, but we only reserve it for times of desperation. I was fully prepared to break out necessary techniques on this morning as I stared into the monotonous, dull landscape of West Texas.

I tried to concentrate on the magazine, but my attention span gave out at Ashfaq Kayani. I traded it in for my journal and tried to express my thoughts in ink.

Middle of nowhere...mid July...sitting on my belongings...at a gas station...in Texas...kind of funny...kind of sh**ty...

'What the hell am I doing with my life?' was the final note I would write that day.

***

I noticed a 30-year-old woman, four children ages 2-7 and a dog unload from a van that had just pulled up. Obviously Denny and I would not be invited to this party, but the sight broke me away from my frustrations. The children had a bounce to them that would make anyone smile. The mother followed behind the troop and caught eyes with me.

'Got your hands full, huh?' I said from my floor seat, trying to spark up my first conversation since parting ways with Denny.

She gave a polite acknowledgement and proceeded to let the dog pee in the grassy area. I put my pen back to paper, but no profound thoughts released from my mind. The family passed back by, and this time the woman stopped to chat. I'm not sure what people think when they approach us. Do they feel sorry? Or does the curiosity of our story just get to them?

I explained to Nancy that my friend was inside the gas station, and that we had hiked quite a bit in the east, but with the cities being so spread out in the west, we were looking to head toward the pacific without risking disaster in the desert.

I didn't say too much more before she offered - 'Well we're going to El Paso. I'd have to move some stuff around, but I'm sure we could make room for ya.'

El Paso was 445 miles to the west. I trust nearly everyone I meet, but my brain wouldn't let me believe her at first.

'Are you serious?' was all that came out.

'Yeah, if you want.'

'Um yes, that would be so great. Thank you so much! I'm going to get Denny!'

I thanked her three more times and put her 7-year-old son, Dillon, in charge of watching my bag.

'Dude, pack up,' I said for effect.

Denny, concentrating hard on the screen in front of him, asked 'Why?'

'We're going to El Paso.'

'Are you serious?'

I nodded with emphasis.

'How'd you pull that off?'

'I have no idea.'

We packed up quicker than necessary, imagining the ride might be gone if we wasted a second. Denny introduced himself to Nancy.

'You're not going to murder me, are you?' She asked, jokingly with a hint of serious.

What do you say in this situation to someone to comfort them? I can't remember what wise words we attempted to offer. Regardless, we piled in the van, introducing ourselves to our fellow passengers.

'Dillon forgot to watch your bag, so I watched it for you!' exclaimed six-year-old Skylar.

This led to a six-hour special of 'Kids Say the Darnedest Things.'

-'Smell my feet.'

-'Hey Danny? I love you.'

-'Mason is a Cheeto face.'

-'I want you guys to stay forever, but I know that you probably can't.'

-'Our cat is a boy cat because she has a wee-wee.'

-'I remember you. I met you when I was a baby. You held me.'

-'We're going to Texas!' (the trip began in Texas)

-'The house next door is empty. You could move in there!'

Denny played co-pilot the majority of the trip as I tried to entertain four kids who threatened to burst out of their seat belts and car seats with every move. I disposed of already-been-chewed gum and tissues covered in fresh boogers and pretended to smell the girls' feet when they promised they smelled like rainbows.

When the DVD player power cord began having issues (ironically we were watching Short Circuit) I thought I was in trouble. Denny MacGyver came to the rescue by using a hair tie and a pen cap to fix the situation. Everyone was happy again.

I reluctantly let every child handle our digital camera - worth more than everything left in our budget - after they broke out into an improv song begging to take videos and photos. They were too cute. The word 'no' vanished from my vocabulary.

I managed to drift off to sleep. The kids were very polite, allowing me to doze on one of their pillows for a while. As soon as my eyes cracked open, Kendall shouted - 'Can we do another wideo?' Of course she could.

I would say I played the role of babysitter, but the environment made me feel more like a kid. Denny bonded with Nancy in the front seat, then we switched spots for the final leg of the journey. I chatted with our savior of West Texas, ensuring her that although we may not have looked like it by hanging out at a gas station, we were in fact ambitious guys.

I stared out the window at nothing. There wasn't anything resembling a town for 100 miles. Had Nancy not come along, I might still be sitting on my bag.

***

I pulled my identification from my Eclipse gum packet to present it to the guard at the Military base in El Paso. Nancy, whose husband is in the Army, had invited us for dinner and said we could camp in the yard - which eventually led to camping on the bunk beds in Dillon's room.

The six-hour ride had not only had no hints of awkwardness, it was a blast. But once we pulled into the driveway and Nancy began explaining to her friends and neighbors that she had met these two guys at a gas station, Denny and I shifted uncomfortably. We knew who we were, Nancy and her kids had a good idea, but I suppose these people didn't.

Jessica, the neighbor across the street, began asking lots of questions. Most of our answers drew a laugh from her and something to the effect of, 'That's crazy!'

Nancy mentioned to her good friend Liz that we might be interested in a ride up to Utah since Liz was moving to Salt Lake City the next day.

'We'll definitely have to discuss that later,' she said.

A few hours later, I found myself on a walk with Jessica and Liz, chatting like we had known each other more than a day. Jessica mentioned that the day was so crazy, she wanted to write a book about it. Liz mentioned that the odds for catching a ride with her in the morning looked good, just as long as she could clear enough space for a pair of wanderers.

Denny and I helped Nancy with a few things around the house - tidying the kitchen and moving some furniture around. We also cleaned out the entire van, removing dirty diapers, peeling suckers from the floor, vacuuming, and giving it a wash. We went to bed that night still uncertain of our fate the next day.

We played with the kids all morning and afternoon. While I worked on writing back some emails, Denny had an internship as Mr. Mom. He ran around the house finding band-aids for boo-boos, cleaning up the dog's poop, refilling cereal bowls, and being an all-around entertainer. While Denny worked on the blog, I had lunch duty, which was a bit simpler since all I did was heat up pizza for the youngsters who were fading due to the heat.

Mason got his head stuck in between the bunk bed and the wall on more than one occasion. Skylar and Kendall then got the idea that climbing on our shoulders would be the afternoon's main event. They agreed each time would be their last. This went on for hours.

'When you get married, tell your wives you're waiting five years before having kids,' Nancy said.

It seemed like a whole lot of work. But I could see how much she loved them and what they meant to her. Hell, I was starting to love them. I was ready to go find a wife.

***

Utah was a go. Liz made us promise not to kill her.

'I promise you we'll be friends by the end of this,' I said.

About four minutes into the trip, I think we were. We laughed. A lot. At one point, Liz, who was having some medical issues, not to mention her husband had been deployed to the Middle East, let a few tears fall in front of us as she spoke passionately about her spirituality. We had only known Liz for a day, but we were sharing our deepest thoughts about religion, politics, and the very important subject of the opposite sex. People seem comfortable opening up to us. And we're comfortable having them do so. I just hope the things I say have some sort of substance.

Liz proposed the question, 'What drives you?' I've been thinking about it ever since, unable to come up with a definitive answer. She explained a program she designed, initially for Army wives, about the power of positive thinking. She explained that if you say the things you want to be as if they're currently happening, that it will work wonders for the psyche. 'I am a great wife,' she used as an example. Of course, that one didn't really work for Denny and I, but we got the point.

Liz didn't like to drive at night, and the giant storm above didn't help the scenario. We decided to grab a bite to eat at the only open restaurant in town - McDonald's. I ordered the two strangest things I saw on the menu - a Green Chile Double Cheeseburger and a Salsa Roja wrap.

'You can only get these in New Mexico,' I informed Denny and Liz as we chowed down. They took the comment in stride.

I saw Liz scanning the menu.

'Wait, did the woman at the counter tell you that you could only get these here?' she asked sincerely since she hadn't seen the info behind the counter.

She caught me at a bad moment as Dr. Pepper squirted from my nose. We all began laughing hard.

'Did you just make that up?' she asked, boggled that anyone would do so.

I nodded my head, but couldn't get any words out. Finally...

'But I bet it's true.'

We checked into the Super 8. Liz suggested we all split a room since she would be afraid to be in one alone. I was glad she offered this because I didn't want to say anything, but I knew our budget was tight. Denny and I shared a bed, which is bigger than our tent, so we got to spread out a bit.

***

When I woke this morning, Liz had already gotten her breakfast and Denny was sound asleep. I walked down to the lobby to eat. On the way back upstairs, I paused, figuring a nice gesture would be to get Denny some food and bring it to him in the room. After 64 days on the road together, sometimes I worry we take our friendship for granted.

'I am a good friend,' I repeated in my mind. I think the power of positive thinking worked because Denny smiled, thanked me and wolfed down the food. It was the start to a great day.

We took photos out the car window of the amazing rock formations, endless skies and bright lightning bolts. Something about the west makes my heart beat with a bit more passion. Maybe it's the sense of freedom, thinking that maybe not everything has been discovered. I can't exactly describe the feeling, and those are the best kind in my opinion.

We told Liz to drop us in Moab - a town that has always infatuated me. I convinced Denny it would be a good place for us with its open-minded people, outdoor-friendly attitude and license plates from all the lower-48 states.

***

I had trouble wrapping my mind around the idea that we were in Utah a week after leaving New Orleans. This certainly wasn't the same trip as walking from town to town out east. The west was a different game, a tougher game in a way. We are simply playing by its rules, knowing that if we don't, there could be consequences.

It may be a different sort of adventure, but it's all part of the same journey of not knowing where each day might lead or who we might meet. The west is much different from the east, but it's all part of one incredible country.

-BT

Inked memories

2008-07-22T00:40:00.014-05:00

EL PASO, TEXAS - JULY 22 -- I felt like a lion taking shelter from the heat as Brian and I lay underneath a tree that belonged in the Serengeti. A girl waved to us in the distance and approached us.

‘Do you guys like art?’ was her opening line.

‘Yeah,’ we replied. Kyra thumbed through her weathered folder of sketches and pulled out a few sheets. The drawings and situation reminded me of Napoleon Dynamite, but I tried being polite.

‘These are really good. I could never do anything like this,’ I said.

From her family’s campsite 20 feet away, her little sister shouted, ‘SHOW OFF!’

‘I thought I’d come over and talk to you guys since you looked bored just talking to each other.’ the 18-year-old said.

After 63 straight days together, it's very possible Brian and I might have been discussing our favorite flavor of Ramen noodle. But we happened to be in the middle of one of the best conversations we’ve had on the entire trip, talking about the growth we've had as individuals without the ability to pinpoint the moment it happened. We talked about how it's similar to knowing when it's time to get a haircut without being able to feel the hair growing from day-to-day.

She continued, ‘All the boys in Abilene have girlfriends. None of them are single. They don’t wave at me when I wave at them either.’

Awkward silence.

‘That’s a problem,’ Brian said as part of a conversation that grew more awkward by the second.

‘Do ya’ll have girlfriends?’

‘Yup,’ Brian responded, answering for me without blinking.

‘How long have you been together?’ Kyra asked Brian.

‘What is it…July?'

'Yep.'

'Nine months then.’ Brian said. His acting performance made Ben Affleck seem tolerable.

We tried to look around for an out, but only saw Kyra's family lingering in the near horizon.

Then came the line of the day -

‘Ya, my dad probably thinks I’m trying to have sex with you.'

'I hope not,' Brian said.

'It’s hard, ya know. There’s no single boys in Abilene and that’s why I go to Maine every summer. For boys and fishin'.’

‘You guys look muscular,’ she continued.

We informed her it was time for us to leave (a minor fib since we did have a ride coming at any second).

‘Well, can I at least get a birthday hug from you guys? I turn 19 next week,’ Kyra ended with.

We both gave her a hug and walked off. It would have been easy to dismiss her as just plain weird, but Kyra was a lonely girl more than anything.

***

Brian was writing a new post in the lobby of the Super 8 motel when I struck up a conversation with Tina, the woman behind the front counter. We chatted for a little bit about how long she had been in Abilene (12 years) and why she moved from California (earthquake). On my way back from grabbing Brian and I a sandwich from subway, I handed Tina a bottle of green tea. I didn’t make a big deal of it and hadn’t thought about whether or not I should get it for her in the gas station. I just thought she’d enjoy it. Before this trip I would have never thought to do something like that, no matter how simple.

Tina dropped us off after work at a free camping spot. I’m pretty sure she was unaware of what goes on at that location because shortly after we parted ways, a man named Gary stopped his bright yellow car beside us and asked if we were okay with things getting ‘wild’ later on.

‘Wild?’ We asked. I thought he was talking about young kids out drinking beer or partying loud. Soon I would find out this was far from the circumstance.

Gary said, ‘Ya, people come around here and go cruisin'. I just thought I’d warn you that these parts can be wild at times. I go cruisin' at times around here and didn’t know if you guys were into that stuff.’

Still puzzled, we finally asked, ‘What do you mean by cruisin' and wild?’

He responded subtly but quickly, ‘Gays.’

Gary could sense we were oblivious to the fact our chosen campsite was a place for single men to meet after dark, so he drove us down the road a few miles to a spot we could be undisturbed - the place where we would meet Kyra.

***

Tina told us that her ex-husband, Benny, had offered Brian and I his backyard to pitch our tent in and was having a little BBQ we could be a part of. She informed us that people think he's a scary guy, but that he is actually really nice.

'Why do people think that?' Brian asked.

'Because he looks scary,' she said as we drove toward Benny's house.

We liked Benny right away.

He had a mix of Spanish and country music playing when we shook hands while his children swam in the pool and lit firecrackers leftover from the 4th of July.

Brian and I inhaled the meat, tortillas, corn, and asparagus Benny had made for his three kids and us, as he told tales of his walking trip from Mexico to California 25 years ago. He told Brian and I that even if we lose all of our notes, we'll remember our adventure forever. this made us feel good. He was 19 at the time of his trek and he talked about it like it happened yesterday.

‘One time, the four of us were offered mountain oysters. I didn't think they raised oysters in the mountains, but they were delicious. Then, as we were eating, everybody was laughing at us and we didn't know why. They finally told us what mountain oysters are….. bull’s balls!’

Benny had six tattoos. Two of them had been done by Benny himself with nothing more than a sharpened wire coat hanger and some ink. He said it seemed more like carving his body than getting a tattoo. He wasn't trying to be tough about it. 'Man it hurt!' he laughed. The one of his grandmother's name across his neck was the only tattoo done professionally. He said it was a breeze compared to the others.

We lie on top of the soft backyard grass that night, thinking a cozy night's sleep was in store for us. Instead, the neighborhood dogs cried out in the night. Brian and I, unable to fall asleep, laughed as we tried to outdo each other with jokes of what the dogs might be saying to us.

'What's been the most difficult part of your journey so far?'

'Is that tent a Kelte?'

We managed to fall asleep at some point and woke to Benny offering to give us a ride to a high-traffic gas station along the Interstate on his way to work. We helped him move heavy slabs of granite to his neighbors house and loaded up our bags, not knowing where the road might lead that day.

Like Benny's tattoos, the stories of hiking with his three buddies across Mexico will be with him forever. His memories will forever remain a memory for us as well.

-DC

Pick me up

2008-07-20T12:00:00.006-05:00

ABILENE, TEXAS - July 20 -- The three of us waited in the living room, staring at the front door while listening for a knock. The potential buyers were an hour late.

'I don't know the first thing about selling a couch,' Denny announced. I wondered what Bryan was thinking of our present situation. He had flown to New Orleans from Scotland, rented a car and driven us to Texas to be a part of our journey. The good friend of mine only had two short days to spend with us. And although he was well aware our lives were very random, I was sure that helping sell Denny's sister's sofa in Houston was not his idea of a holiday.

But he didn't seem to mind one bit as we began rattling off funny things we could do when we greeted the guests. Like, for example, act as if we were throwing a surprise party when the door opened, or informing them the couch had been wet on more times than we could count - especially since deep down we didn't want to see the piece of furniture go since one of us hoped to sleep on it that night. My personal favorite was calling Denny's sister - who was out of town - to tell her that we weren't successful with the transaction, but we did manage to sell other items in the apartment. And also, Bryan - a travel agent - had sold them a nice cruise package. The three of us laughed like hell at all the hypothetical situations. The knock on the door finally came. We gave it our best shot. However, the couch stayed put.

***

We roadtripped west all the way to Austin. Bryan was really going out of his way for us, but he seemed excited to be part of the adventure. I was happy to see him and Denny spend time together. It's always nice to see friends who have never met one another before bond like old buddies.

Bryan mentioned he had a brother-in-law who lived somewhere in Austin, and that we could stay at his place for the night. Anytime I imagine what a person's home might look like, I always picture something middle-class. I never assume the worst, I never desire the best. I took slow steps into the place, feeling like I didn't belong. I wouldn't be surprised if someone told me it was the most expensive pad in the city.

I fell in love with Austin right away. The owner of the apartment, Ray, let us borrow his mountain bikes for the day, making us promise we'd check out Zilker Park. I've never seen so many young, in-shape people in one gathering. People were biking, running, kayaking, jumping off bridges, you name it. It was just like the 20-somethings mecca I had been told about by many people. Now I got to experience it first-hand. I chatted with locals as frequently as possible about what they thought of the city. All good things.

Once Bryan had to move on toward his wife Mandy's hometown in Nebraska, Denny and I felt out of place. Ray said it was no problem to stay one more night, but it didn't feel right since he was off doing his own thing. As I reflected about our situation on the balcony, I found myself missing my family I had just seen in New Orleans. I missed my Scottish friend who had come and gone in what seemed like a blink of an eye. I wondered what the hell Denny and I were doing on the 32nd story of the most expensive place I'd ever been in.

I had lost the plot of the trip, and what made it worse was we were the ones writing it. I was concerned I was burnt out. I forgot the thrill of the first day we walked out of the airport in Maine or what it felt like to camp out in the woods for the first time. Our minds had absorbed so much that I was worried we had perhaps reached maximum capacity for experiences on this particular journey. Meeting strangers had become so routine that I feared I was failing to appreciate the beauty of it all.

I spoke to Denny about my feelings, using the analogy of swimming out into a large ocean from the shore. When you can still see the land, you are able to see how far you've gone. But once all you see around you is water, you have no reference point, and you feel lost, like maybe you are no longer making progress.

Although we were on the roof of Austin, I found myself feeling so low.

***

Brett Baker picked us up in downtown Austin right at 9 a.m., just like he promised. The sports television producer in San Antonio had written us a few weeks back to say he had enjoyed the blog and wanted to meet up if we found ourselves in Texas. We called him to tell him we were in fact in Texas, yet were feeling a bit lost.

He was up for a roadtrip to Abilene. He had never been there, and either really wanted to go, or pretended he was curious to see it. Either way, we liked him right away.

In the six hours we spent with Brett, we discussed just about everything from cute girls we've encountered along the way to the meaning of success and how we all agree it should be synonymous with happiness.

He said his father, Dr. Dan Baker, wrote a book titled, 'What Happy People Know,' which touched on a few things we were curious about. I can't wait to reach a Barnes and Noble to check it out, however I think if you look up the word desolate in the dictionary, there may be a picture of West Texas.

After some chatting, we figured out that Brett and my brother - a sportswriter - had been in the same locker room on more than one occasion. I like to think it's a big world but one with lots of odd connections.

Brett explained to us that he had discovered our site through a link on SI.com. We were oblivious to this fact, but were glad he had found us. He joked that it was difficult to explain to his buddies that he had to cancel a tubing trip because he was driving two guys he had never met to a town not known for much several hours away from his home.

'I told him to call me at 8 o'clock tonight just in case this is all an elaborate plan to leave me in a ditch and take my car,' Brett joked.

We ate lunch in a friendly diner in the touristy town of Fredricksburg. Cowboys or people dressed as them (I don't really know the difference) roamed around. Denny returned from the restroom to inform us he had been walked in on at the most awkward of moments.

'Some guy definitely just saw me on the toilet,' he said as we all burst out laughing. The fact alone that Denny was comfortable telling this story made it clear that Brett was already a good friend.

We stared out into the abyss that is West Texas. Present and future ghost towns lined the roads. As we stared at the old, deteriorating buildings, Denny made the comment that someone has very vivid memories of times spent in these places. I couldn't get this thought out of my head as I sat silent in the backseat.

Brett, who has a tattoo of the Nebraska Cornhuskers on his arm and the years they've won championships, agreed with us that although small-town America was disappearing, he still loved coming from a town not many people had heard of in the Midwest.

Our new 38-year-old friend admitted he lived a bit vicariously through us and our website. Although he seemed to know every inch of our adventure thus far, he inquired about the best parts of our journey thus far. We told him it's how one thing always leads to another that amazes us most.

'Had we not been here at this time, this wouldn't have happened,' we explained through several anecdotes.

When we reached Abilene, my blood started pumping faster. I was feeling the rush that comes along with being dropped in an unfamiliar town filled with nothing but unfamiliar people. Denny had a good point that walking into a town makes it easier to ease into the notion.

I could tell Brett was not at ease with idea of dropping us just anywhere. We called the police station to ask for ideas. They didn't have many. We told Brett the gas station was fine, or anywhere for that matter. We ended up grabbing our bags and hugging Brett goodbye in the Super 8 parking lot. We were officially back in the saddle as Brett drove off into the distance.

***

We pondered where to go from there as we looked at the empty map of West Texas while sitting on our backpacks in front of the hotel. Before we could come up with a plan, the Holbrooks pulled up to check in for the night.

David asked us what we were up to.

'If you try to walk toward El Paso, you will die,' he stated as fact. It was exciting to know how difficult the coming days would be, yet scary at the same time.

We chitchatted for a few minutes, finding out that they were the proud parents of one of college football's most impressive quarterbacks - Chase Holbrook of New Mexico State, who threw for over 4,600 yards his sophomore season.

David asked us if we were staying in the hotel. We told him we weren't sure since it typically wasn't part of our budget. The police had told us of a place we could camp for free, but there was no running water anywhere around, so it didn't sound ideal.

As I went into the lobby to inquire about rates, David was on his way out after checking in. He quickly shook my hand and hopped in the car. The girl at the counter seemed a bit flustered and said she had forgotten to give him his key. I flagged him down and told him he was in 222 as I handed the key through the window. When I went back into the lobby, the girl was smiling.

'We're on a bit of a budget. What's the best you can do for a room for the night?' I asked her.

'Actually, that man just paid for your room for you,' she said, still smiling.

***

Dozens of people have gone out of their way for us this summer, and I don't think we've taken a single one for granted. But as I've found myself losing focus lately, these last few acts of kindness by strangers not only helped us out, they reminded me what makes the world such a beautiful place.

Denny and I sprawled out in our respective hotel beds as we cranked the AC and flipped on the TV. A map of the country appeared on the weather channel.

'Maine looks so far away,' Denny said.

'Yeah it does,' I said.

'I'll never look at a map of America the same again,' he said.

I looked at the Atlantic coast, realizing exactly how far we'd come. I looked at the Pacific ocean, and for the first time, felt the presence of the opposite coast. It was as if I could almost see the sea from our window. I was starting to figure out the plot again.

I thought of everything that had happened from Maine to Texas and how many stories we have to tell. I also thought of how we've grown and maybe that's why things got complicated. We know how to camp in the woods. We know how to be sweaty and smelly and still approach complete strangers. Was there much more to achieve? Had we done enough?

'If we reached the west coast soon, would you be satisfied with the trip?' I asked Denny.

'Yeah, I would be,' he said with confidence.

'Yeah, me too.'

***

I woke this morning feeling very refreshed. I chatted with the Holbrooks over coffee, finding myself really enjoying the simple pleasures of conversing with people we would have otherwise never met had we not taken off. Handshakes, hugs, smiles, small kind gestures and chit-chat have been our fuel thus far. I don't foresee a shortage of it any time soon thanks to some very good people.

The Pacific looks very far away, but at least now I can feel it.

-BT

Things you may or may not care to know...

2008-07-15T22:08:00.016-05:00

METAIRIE, LOUISIANA - July 15 -- After the first day of volunteering at Desire Street Ministries, Denny and I had to take quick showers (separately) to be ready in time for dinner. I had encouraged my brother and his wife to have their next-door neighbor, Mrs. Carrie, over to their house that evening. They agreed it was a good idea. Sarah made the best-tasting lasagna, and we chatted over the rarely-used kitchen table Mike had brought in from the garage that day. We learned that Carrie had lost both her husband of 55-years and a son two months prior and now lived alone. She quivered as she spoke of this, but maintained her composure and immediately switched the focus to the six-week-old baby in the room. Will made everyone smile.

-Denny and I found ourselves in collared shirts (loaned by my brother) for the first time this summer while attending my new nephew Will's baptism in Houma, Louisiana. Following the ceremony, we gathered at my sister-in-law's parents' house for pasta-laya, fried fish, diving contests in the pool and underwater charades. Most of my extended family was visiting from the Midwest this week. It was the first time I had been part of a summer family vacation in five years. I felt like a kid again. We played a giant game of telephone that included my 5-year-old niece and 86-year-old grandma. It ended in hilarity every single time.

-I got my hair cut for the first time this summer. A simple No. 3 blade all around.

-I learned the art of changing a diaper, but have yet to attempt it. I did, however, master a new technique for holding six-week-old Will - one in which my brother has put into his arsenal for making his son happy. It involves putting one hand through the little guy's legs and supporting him by resting his chest in your palm so he can see the world around him.

-My mom loaned me $20 to test my luck at the casino in downtown New Orleans. I multiplied it by 20, nearly doubling our remaining summer funds. My family went to the bar on Bourbon Street where my brother and sister-in-law met for the very first time. I'm sure glad they did.

-I took three baths in my brother's jet-powered tub. This helped me clear my mind and allowed me to nearly finish the book I'm reading - The Perks of Being a Wallflower. I highly recommend it.

-Denny and I multiplied our knowledge of Louisiana culture tenfold via Wikipedia. We learned why New Orleans is called the Big Easy, the difference between Voodoo and Hoodoo, what the Fleur de Lis is, and what the difference is between Cajun and Creole.

-Denny and I performed a pair of physical activities together other than walking - a game of one-on-one basketball and a round of golf as part of my family reunion. Denny won by a couple points on the court, but we both found ourselves winded at 2-2. My consolation prize was knowing I still have the ability to dunk a basketball in my bare feet. I was feeling the effects for days. On the course, Denny - the only competitor not technically in the family - hit the game-tying putt on number 18. This also gave us another reason to use the collared shirts my brother lent us since the golf pro wouldn't allow us to play in our No Stranger Land t-shirts.

-We are shipping a box of unnecessary stuff home for the third time this summer.

-I did some job searching for the fall. I am not ready for this adventure to come to an end, but I figure it's time to think about the next step with our journey being half over and all.

-I weigh as much as I do when we started. I thought I would be skinnier by now. I think the desert will make us shed a few pounds. I am nervous and excited for the Southwest.

-I got to watch my favorite TV show - Flight of the Conchords - at my brother's house.

-We traded my brother a No Stranger Land shirt for two plain-white undershirts and the collared shirt Denny grew attached to.

-New Orleans is a 26-hour and 17-minute drive from Portland, Maine. The drive from New Orleans to San Diego - 26 hours and 26 minutes.

-BT

By you

2008-07-14T00:19:00.001-05:00

Candyland

2008-07-09T16:51:00.023-05:00

NEW ORLEANS, LOUISIANA - July 10 -- The high-school sign off the side of the road read that classes are to begin on the same day as my birthday - August 8. What caught me off guard was the year - 2005. Katrina had struck nearly three ago, and the sign hadn't changed since. As we drove through the ninth ward, I noticed the houses had giant orange and black spray painted X's on the outside to communicate a piece of information in each quadrant - the group that inspected the home, when they did it, any pets rescued, and finally, the number of dead bodies.

We showed up at Desire Street Mission to see if there was any way we could contribute. To say they needed help would be an understatement. Our 21-year-old boss for the day, Lori, scheduled Brian and I to be part of the team that was to gut the inside of a water-damaged house. On our way to the work site, I noticed another team down the street getting ready to prime boards on the front of another hurricane victim's home. I painted houses during college summers and knew refocusing my energy in that area would be more beneficial. I asked the group leader about joining and immediately became the painting expert.

I gave painting directions to high school kids who had never before held a paintbrush. Brian needed a bit of instructing as well. I felt like my dad, who taught me to paint many years ago - the only difference being that my dad never gave me ice cream breaks. Geraldine, the woman living in the house, appeared from her home as she left for work. She smiled and told us how much she appreciated the help.

We finished painting and joined the people gutting the house down the street. I began peeling off fake-brick siding from the exterior of the house and while Brian filled up a dumpster with materials that were scattered across the front yard. It sounded like a firework exploded when the florescent lights in Brian's hands shattered as they scraped the pavement. His pants were rolled up due to the heat and we worried the glass may have stuck into his legs. He somehow escaped without injury.

The clothes we had worn during the day had a new look due to the sloppy painting and demolition debris. Luckily, we had turned our best clothes inside out. We changed down to our underwear to do so between two houses earlier in broad daylight.

***

Brian and I taught Junior Achievement to a group of third graders at a summer camp located in the upper ninth ward. The teaching objective was to stress the importance of newspapers and have the kids write their own story.

‘Why do we have newspapers?’ Brian asked as the session started.

Three out of the eight kids responded with the variation of - ‘To see if anyone has been murdered?’

We put all the kids' individual stories together at the end to compile a complete newspaper edition. They had written stories about their favorite basketball players, God, themselves, and other positive slices of life. None about murder.

Tia is a first-grade girl who lives in the upper ninth ward - an impoverished neighborhood to begin with, not to mention the struggles that multiplied from Katrina. She was the yellow plastic figure during Candyland. She never went out of turn and played only one game. After coming in second place, she walked over to me, sat on my lap, and collected the used cards while I managed the other children during the game. Tia became my friend and soon was introducing me to all of her cousins who were inside the gymnasium. She was either holding my hand or on my back the majority of the day. She doesn’t normally like boys but said she liked me. It made me smile ear to ear.

I saw Brian was sweating pretty intensely when I came into the gym. He was in the middle of playing the trust game with a group of kids. Standing with their backs toward Brian, they fall backward into his arms, trusting that he would be there to catch them. He got the kids so excited they were all trying to fall back at the same time with no one behind them. Sitting next to the action, the little kids began to pull at my hair, saying how soft it looked. A second-grade boy asked if we could trade hair. I would've if I could've.

As we left, I made sure to give a proper goodbye to my friend.

‘Are you gonna be here forever?’ Tia asked.

Sadly, I had to tell her no. I went to give her one more hug, which turned into five, maybe six.

-DC

Good Will

2008-07-08T21:05:00.006-05:00

NEW ORLEANS, LOUISIANA - July 8 -- 'You're too sensitive. You get upset at the smallest things I say, and it's bad for team morale,' I said to Denny, knowing right away I shouldn't have said it.

Pause.

'Yeah, well you were being a bitch all morning,' he responded, not in a confrontational tone, but as if stating a fact.

Pause.

'That's a vague thing to say,' I said, trying to recall if I had been a bitch all morning.

I was exhausted from the worst-night's sleep yet, but knowing I would see my new nephew for the first time once we reached New Orleans later that evening had me lost in thought. The meaningless exchange of words Denny and I were having had less to do with anyone being bitchy or oversensitive and more to do with the fact that spending all day at a gas station on no sleep is not conducive to a chipper mood. This was our 49th day in a row having spent every waking and sleeping moment together, and from my memory, this was only one of a few bickering sessions.

I attempted the drastic transition technique.

'I love you, and to prove it I'll buy you any shirt you want,' I said, pointing to the rack behind the booth we sat in from which 37 varieties of confederate-flag shirts hung. The 38th style of shirt featured a picture of strawberries with the clever statement, 'Sisters are berry special,' written beneath it.

End of argument. We were back. Before we exchanged another word, we were playing Frisbee on a patch of grass behind the BP. Neither of us bought a shirt. They had my size but not my ideology.

***

We waited a total of ten hours at the gas station that day for my brother to pick us up. I know what you're thinking. Why didn't you go somewhere? Why didn't you walk?

Let me explain.

The thing to do in Georgiana, Alabama, is hang out at the BP. I know this because I spoke to more than one local who was hanging out at the BP all day as if it were the town's Bourbon Street. One guy was scoping out chicks passing by and telling me about what he'd like to do with them even though I didn't ask or care to hear details of things that will never come to fruition. At least I sure hope they don't.

Our legs were working just fine, but this was the cultural hub of the only town for 20 miles, and we figured we'd better give Alabama a few more hours of chance before getting the hell out of it. Plus, the 20 miles we could possibly cover in bipolar skies in eight hours could be covered by my quickly-approaching brother in less than 20 minutes. When he told us he could either pick us up that evening or four days from then, we chose the former. Staying longer could have meant helping our odds of something enlightening occurring, but at the same time it also may have increased our chances of never returning to the state.

We dined at the ever-popular BBQ shack next door. While I was using the restroom, Denny tried to strike up conversation with the owner. Apparently the guy saw our bags and asked if our car was broken down. When Denny excitedly explained that we were traveling cross-country on foot, trying to meet people from all walks of life, the owner neglected to respond and walked off. I imagined a bubble floating above his head with simply the word, 'Hippies!'

After Denny told me this story, I tried to chit-chat with the Donald Trump of Georgiana. He didn't respond, and I know he heard me. I could tell he was one thought away from telling us we had to collect our bags and leave. I think the fact we ordered half of the things on the menu was the only thing that stopped him.

It's not just that the vibe of small-town Alabama makes me cringe. I could deal with that short term if I had to. It's that it's epidemic of constant classification is very contagious. I even wanted to explain that the BBQ shop owner was white in the above paragraph, even though I typically feel this is an invalid detail. I somehow feel it's important for me to tell you that the only decent conversation I had in Georgiana was with black people, and that I had trouble relating to the white folks for the most part. I don't know why I feel the need to tell you this. It's the Alabama that leaked into my system. It made me see society in black and white. It wasn't for me. And it wasn't me.

Where was my brother?

***

As if Mike needed to increase the duration of his eight-hour round-trip journey, we hit a traffic jam halfway home. And not just any traffic jam - the type that inspires you to get out of your car and play Frisbee on the Interstate against the glow of headlights.

We eventually reached New Orleans just shy of midnight. I hadn't been back since the week of the hurricane. I was curious to see the state of the city first-hand. Denny and I had already lined up some more structured volunteer opportunities with the help of my brother. All we had to do was make a few phone calls. But first, I had someone to see.

I saw my first nephew for the first time via baby monitor in the room next door to the one in which he slept. As much as I wanted to, I knew I couldn't wake him. I would wait until morning.

Although this was the best-night's sleep in a while, especially since it followed the worst in recent history, I jumped out of bed as soon as my eyes cracked open. Will was wide awake. The first time we saw each other, he smiled at me. My sister-in-law explained he just started doing this. She said it was rare. She said he liked me. Finally, she informed me he often smiles while he simultaneously poops his diaper.

I was still flattered. I can't get enough of Good Will Triplett.

-BT

Close-kinded

2008-07-06T13:06:00.007-05:00

GEORGIANA, ALABAMA - July 6 -- We had been walking on the back roads of Alabama for about an hour when we met 30-year-old William. He yelled, ‘Ya’ll want some water!’ from the front porch of his country, roadside trailer. Before no time at all, Brian and I met his entire family, siblings, parents, kids, and even the dogs – Tank and Lil’ Man. If William had been wearing a t-shirt, there would have been no way for me to notice the confederate flag tattooed on his chest. The emblem also appeared on his friend’s hat.

If Brian and I had been black, I don’t imagine we would have been offered hamburgers, ice water, an atlas, or even the forty dollars William slipped Brian as we were leaving. ‘Those n****r’s down there are crazy, they’ll be drunk on the corners,’ William said as we told the men of our intended route, which was through an area called Butler Estates. We’d supposedly be offered crack and have guns pulled on us according to William. In a bit of a daze due to the confusing events, we accepted their offerings and forged on. The bills felt strange in our pockets, almost like drug money. We walked down the road a few minutes, discussing our most recent encounter and how uncomfortable it made us feel when we saw Terry, William’s friend, screech by in his bright-green Mustang. He delivered extra BBQ wrapped in aluminum foil that William wanted us to have. The kindness by these close-minded people baffled us.

I heard music playing in the distance. As we approached the beat, I saw a sign reading Butler Estates. Across the street was a party of all ages at a Baptist Church. Extra cars had to be parked on a grass field to accommodate the huge crowd of people celebrating the Fourth of July. We were not offered crack, but instead asked to join in on the fun by a group of teenage girls near the entrance and then given a couple of ice-cold sodas from a man who told us, ‘Happy Fourth of July.’

Exhausted at a gas station later, we took a break. A white man walked out of the gas station towards his car then turned around and handed me a wrinkled up $20 bill. We asked why he was giving us this money. His reply, ‘Helping out white folks.’

It was hard to wrap my brain around the situations that had happened during that day. On one hand, these men seemed like nice people, offering food, water, money, etc. On the other hand, the generosity was tarnished by their ignorant racism, adding fuel to a fire that’s been burning far too long. Throughout three days of walking rural Alabama, we have done our best to keep an open mind. My intention is not to contribute further to southern stereotypes, but it would be dishonest to neglect the events we’ve been a part of during our time in Alabama. On the flip side, more people have honked and waved to us in this state than any of the others, which is nice.

***

We used the money from the two men for a hotel room that night since all potential camping land was marked NO TRESPASSING and a storm was moving in quickly. Bates Motel from the movie Psycho would have felt like an upgrade. We should have known we were in for a unique experience when the motel owner came to the counter with a parrot on her shoulder. The door to our room was pink and the outside walls were painted purple. Inside, nails stuck out of the walls, cigarettes had burned holes in the comforters, dogs had eaten parts of the towels, doorknobs didn't existed on the bathroom door, and only two out of five light bulbs were working. The picture of snow-tipped mountain ranges that hung above the beds was drastically out of place, but fitting at the same time. Brian and I watched the Fourth of July fireworks from a TV that wouldn’t stop flickering. We joked how it felt like we were beneath the New York sky when we couldn’t have been further away.

***

The following night, Brian and I found ourselves taking shelter from a thunderstorm under a garage belonging to the Alabama Forestry Commission. The potential for a forest fire was so small that we were all alone next to the equipment, nobody else was around . Walking had concluded for the day and as a result. We called the police station asking for permission to pitch our tent nearby the shelter. We were hoping for a little southern comfort, but the answer was short and sweet, ‘Nope, ya’ll gonna have to move on through to the next town.’ The problem was that in order for us to move on through, we’d have to complete a full day of walking in one hour. This was not a possibility so Brian and I slept on a clearing of grass near the side of the road. Inside the tent, my skin stuck to itself from the humidity while twigs dug into my back. The locusts had no snooze button and kept me awake while I tried finding a way to look at Alabama in a positive way, but I fell asleep before that happened.

-DC

Not working out

2008-07-04T01:10:00.004-05:00

AUBURN, ALABAMA - July 3 -- We haven't walked in a while. I neglect to keep track of the days, so I don't know how long it's been. I just know it's time to hit the road again. The bottoms of my feet no longer make people gag when I expose them, and Denny even went for a run yesterday.

My first friend ever, Nate, came to pick us up on the Tennessee border several days ago and bring us to the place he is renting for the summer in Auburn. No matter how much time passes between seeing one other again, I'm always right back in the neighborhood we grew up in together every time we reunite.

We intended to stay a day or two before pointing our shoes toward New Orleans. Even though I personally wanted to hang out with my friend of 20 years who I rarely see for a while longer, it wasn't conducive to maintaining focus on the project, so I knew I would feel guilty if I did so. I was annoyed that the idea I had helped create was currently keeping me from doing the things I wanted to do. It was confusing.

***

I met a girl the first night in town. We chatted to the point in which she offered to drive Denny and I two-thirds of the way to New Orleans on her way to visit her family. The tricky part of the equation was that she wasn't leaving until Friday. Denny and I took a look at the map and decided to get to know Auburn more intimately.

We woke up the next morning and went to work - researching every volunteer opportunity we could brainstorm. I called retirement homes, I contacted the humane society, I had one-sided conversations with answering machines. No one needed us except for one friendly woman who said we could help sell popcorn at the local high school on Thursday evening.

We wanted to help more yet found ourselves feeling helpless.

We spent most of the week as a trio - talking about life, planning ways to get involved in New Orleans and exploring the small southern town. It was a pleasure to see two great friends of mine bond for the first time and surely not the last. Aside from Denny and Nate getting along like old buddies, not too many connections with strangers were made. The town was loaded with college boys in a voluntary uniform of pastel Polos, visors, and daisy-duke-style khaki shorts, and the girls who clung to their arms. They definitely had one thing in common - having no interest in talking to us.

On Thursday we found out that our ride opportunity on Friday had vanished. I woke up not feeling well that morning, so I lay in bed far too long. It seemed like the week was not working out. I was feeling guilty that we had stayed so long and done so little, and for what?

***

As Nate and I threw the Frisbee in the unusually pleasant Alabama summer evening, I found myself laughing and smiling as we chatted away. I was feeling like a person rather than part of a project.

'Feels like we might as well be on 59th Street,' I shouted as the disc hit Nate's hands.

'I know,' he agreed.

The memories of being young and innocent flooded my mind, and I'm guessing Nate's too. Building forts, playing street hockey, growing up with friends.

'Wanna play jailbreak?' I asked.

Nate laughed and rattled off the names of the neighborhood gang we would have to invite - some kids we hadn't seen in a decade.

When Nate told me that these few days we spent in Auburn were the best of his summer, my guilt vanished. Life made sense again.

***

'I've got a couple quarters in my pocket if you wanna help someone out,' Nate said. I looked at the row of parked cars and understood what he was getting at.

We scanned the streets for dangerously low levels of meter minutes. Everyone seemed to be on top of their parking situation except for the final car in the lineup. As I pulled the quarter from my pocket, I noticed a man recording the license plate, preparing to write a ticket for an obnoxious amount of money that was a heck of a lot more than 25 cents.

'Can I stop you from doing that?' I asked.

The meter enforcer looked up from his fancy ticketing device and evaluated the situation - a guy getting to his car just in time to avoid a fine.

'Sure,' he said as he moved on.

I inserted the coins and walked away. Little did he know, I don't own a car. Our trio exchanged smiles at the situation.

***

I figured out the moral of this week is that sometimes it seems like life isn't working out like you quite hope when really it is working out without you knowing it. I felt guilty at first for remaining idle, but as I prepare to leave Auburn with fresh legs, clean clothes, and most importantly, a rejuvenated spirit, I feel like my priorities are back in line and that life worked out just fine.

I don't know how many days have passed since we last walked, but what I do know is that my belly has gotten a bit flabby from the lack of working out. Part of me is not ready to part ways with one loyal friend. Another part is ready to take to the rural roads of Alabama with another.
-BT

YOU ASK, WE ANSWER

2008-07-02T17:21:00.002-05:00

Volunteer hard, play hard

2008-06-28T09:48:00.002-05:00

KNOXVILLE, TENNESSEE - June 28 -- 'Are you a hug person?' Erin asked me when we met for the first time in the Applebee's parking lot. 'Yes I am,' I responded as we embraced each other. I hugged her twin sister Lauren and Denny followed suit. Erin said she felt like she already knew us through reading our blog, but that she figured contacting us would not lead anywhere. But sure enough, there we were, riding in their car and learning one another.

We met their mother, Marilyn, at her office where she worked on helping refugees have the smoothest transition possible when they arrive to the U.S. She hugged us without asking what kind of greeters we were. Like her daughters, I liked her right away. I ate half of her mints out of the dish on her desk and asked many questions about the refugee process.

By the end of the fourth day with the family we had formed a tight bond. We had even grown close with the other siblings, Todd and Alanna, and the 16-year-old foreign exchange student from Hungary, Koko. Erin and Lauren warned us their mother would likely cry when she dropped us off in Chattanooga. She was wearing sunglasses when we hugged goodbye, so I never did confirm the prediction.

***

Highlights of Knoxville:
-Denny injuring his wrist while playing tether ball for the first time, yet still claiming the victory.
-Shopping for groceries with an Iraqi refugee for others en route to America.
-Late-night chicken fights in the pool.
-Moving two U-Hauls' worth of donated furniture from warehouses to Marilyn's new office.
-Swinging from a sketchy-looking rope and letting go 25 feet above the water.
-Cooking 22 enchiladas for the entire family.
-Eating Marilyn's mouth-watering meals.
-Listening to a choir comprised of orphan children from Uganda.
-Acting like kids with the kids following the performance.
-Butchering songs on guitar around the dinner table. Everyone joining in to sing.
-Sharing stories of travels to Africa with Erin and Lauren.
-Having new friends
BT

Foreign exchange

2008-06-26T22:43:00.006-05:00

KNOXVILLE, TENNESSEE – June 25 -- After I got out of the shower room inside the YMCA, Brian told me what the group of little boys said as they ran out of the lockerroom. ‘Did you see that guy in there, HE WAS NAKED!’ I was amused to say the least. Brian and I camped outside the Y the previous night. We had to make a pit stop at the P. Buckley Moss Museum. The impression I got from Brian was that there are more paintings by this woman in his house back home than of the Triplett family. Later, at a gas station, we grabbed a couple of Snickers bars. I noticed a car filling up with gas that had a license plate that read ‘JEFF&ME’. It shouldn’t have stuck with me, but it did.

Brian’s hydration pack ran out of water right in front of a fire station. We started chatting with the volunteers inside about our route. Cindy offered to take us down the road to an overlook staring right into the Appalachians. Cindy was married to Jeff and owned the car I had noticed a couple hours earlier at the gas station.

***

Silvia and Uwe warmed up to us quickly. Uwe primarily spoke German, which prompted Silvia to be his personal translator. They were in the states, driving from New York to Tennessee. While getting to know each other at the overlook, a camper pulled up and two older people from California asked us to take their picture with the mountain behind them. They were talking to Silvia and found out she was from Germany. When the couple saw Brian and I get into the car they said, ‘You two have fun in our country.’ It felt sort of cool to be considered German. With the help of Uwe and Silvia, we made 350-plus miles of progress through Virginia and into Tennessee.

While staying the night at a Howard Johnson hotel, Uwe opened the door to the assigned room and witnessed a group of ‘large adults’ passing around a joint in their room. Silvia said they could have gotten high just standing outside the room. They will never again stay at a Howard Johnson Silvia told us.

Shortly after crossing the Tennessee border, Uwe stopped at a Subway. Silvia used the ladies room. She came out with a big smile and we knew she just encountered a strange situation by her demeanor. Two women were in their underwear, using the Subway bathroom as a locker room - shampooing their hair even. She asked if this was normal. Our response was no, although it may be a good idea for Brian and I in the future.

My lasting impression of the German couple will be our conversation about visiting each other in the future. Silvia explained that we would have a place to stay in Germany for as long as they live there. I was starting to tell them the same. Silvia stopped me. ‘We’ve met Americans in the past who have told us what you are going to and have not been honest with their offer.’ I paused as I thought about the implications of what I was about to say. It was a genuine conversation with people who have become real friends over a few hours. I finished voicing my offer. I hope that they get a chance to test my word. And I hope I’m not still living at my parent’s house.
-DC

NSL Quickies

2008-06-24T22:07:00.017-05:00

After only a few hours of sleep, we decided to start walking before 6 a.m. The sun had risen, but it was hard to tell since it hid behind dense fog. We took hilly back roads that weaved throughout the Virginia countryside. Cows’ heads turned as they heard the noises of two creatures cutting through the morning mist. I felt like a ghost.
-BT

I must not be losing as much weight as I thought. As I used my backpack as a bench one morning, the two-liter hydration pack stuffed inside exploded, completely soaking all of my possessions, not to mention leaving me without water. This forced us to visit a Laundromat for the first time in five weeks to dry everything off.
-DC

Although we excel in stealth mode and have yet to have a negative run-in with the police, camping illegally still stresses me out. So we’ve gotten bolder as the sun sets each night, arbitrarily knocking on doors we pass to ask if we can camp on the property. The first time we tried this, a couple of 20-somethings, who were clearly on drugs, came to the door looking confused. I opened my mouth despite not knowing what words would come out. ‘Your car door is wide open,’ I informed them. We walked on. On the second attempt, the woman who answered cited the fact she had too much stuff in the yard as the reason we weren’t allowed to stay. The truth was that she was scared s***less of us. The third attempt was a success. Tim and Corinna provided us with level ground in their backyard, electric outlets, a hose for showers we never took, a job in the garden so we could repay the favor in the morning, zucchini bread, Sunny-D, and a send-off prayer.
-BT

It felt like my body was a tuning fork that somebody had banged against a counter top as the lightning struck the river I was trying to get out of. I can’t even remember the noise I made, but Brian stared looking stunned from safe ground as he heard my reaction. Our teeth chattered. Our limbs shook. This was the first storm I can recall I couldn’t escape from. No shelter other than big trees.
-DC

As we do 100 times a day, we had a choice to make. Turn right toward the small-town business district, or turn left toward the park. I’m not sure why we chose left, but I’m certainly glad we did. All we wanted to do was pee and rest. We saw a giant gathering of people from all ages and wondered if we should approach, not wanting to disturb the party in the shelter. We tried to sneak in and out, but a guy our age stopped us, inviting us to be a part of the McGlothlin family reunion. They were packing the food away and said it needed to be eaten. We fixed plates of banana pudding, coleslaw, chocolate cake, and gulped down some Pepsi. We chatted with half of the huge family and were even invited to crash their photos. A 19-year-old couple was determined to give us a lift over the Shenandoah Mountains. After they sped away, we were thankful we chose left.
-BT

I was just itching my head when I felt the little guy crawling around in my hair. Just one of many ticks that haven’t been invited to use my body like a buffet but tried to do so anyway. Even wearing jeans, they can creep up to thigh-high levels. Too flat to smash, we are forced to pick up the pests and chuck them out of the tent multiple times an evening.
-DC

‘You guys looking for a place to stay?’ a bearded guy asked. He was with two girls and another guy who looked like him. I didn’t understand what he was getting at. They explained there were no hotel vacancies around town except for one – the place they were staying at. They were hiking the Appalachian Trail and had sympathy for backpackers. They were simply looking out for us. We explained we tried to avoid paying for hotels. As we waited for the police to arrive to help us find a place to camp, we chatted with our four new friends. The two guys, although they looked like brothers, had met on the AT. It turned out both their girlfriends lived in Philadelphia, so the girls met one another and took a road trip to Virginia to visit their boyfriends. As if that wasn’t coincidence enough, one of the girls mentioned she was friends with a couple people from Iowa from working at a summer camp in Maine. I used to date one of them.
-BT

When I met Jesse, he said it felt like he already knew me because of the blog. It was a very cool feeling because just a few moments earlier, Brian and I were standing in the audience watching his band - These United States. He is the lead singer and guitarist for the band that is currently touring through Europe. Jesse caught Brian and I off guard when he gave our adventure a shoutout right before his last song. As a response, Brian threw one of our No Stranger Land t-shirts on stage, where it hung from the microphone as the set finished.
-DC

Tim Banks was the guy who knew how to get things at the Shenandoah River campground. He brought us a cooler to keep our drinks cold. He found us inner tubes to float down the river on during a day of rest. He even fixed us chicken wings and baked potatoes when we returned in the evening. I think he felt bad we got caught in the hailstorm. Tim had three more Chihuahuas than he did teeth, and he had a total of three Chihuahuas. Beanie Baby was his favorite. He loved it like a child. He lived in a trailer down by the river and we talked by it for hours until it was time for bed. I loved his philosophy, which boils down to the golden rule. He said he bets we’ll remember him the rest of our lives. ‘Just remember me as that crazy guy,’ he said. ‘That way you’ll remember me.’
-BT

Matt and Amber approached me as I rested in a gazebo in a small town park, waiting for Brian to return with filled water packs. After a short conversation, I found out they remembered seeing us walk into McDonald’s a few hours earlier. Their offer was to take us ten miles down the road, but the ride ended after a forty-mile leap through the Shenandoah Valley.
-DC

We had taken cover beneath a gazebo to protect our laptop from the rain and our heads from the hail. This was our third hailstorm in five weeks. Not more than 10 minutes after the storm began, the sky was sunny and clear. We planned to call it a night in the park, so I walked to stock up on water in the tiny town of Shenandoah. All the businesses were closed, so I resorted to knocking on a random person’s door. The woman gladly let me use her outdoor faucet. When I inquired about camping in the park, she said we needed to inform the police. Thirty seconds later, a sheriff pulled up. Apparently the woman had gotten the sheriff his first job, so they were in cahoots. The sheriff handed me his cell phone to let me call the town police. They said they’d let all the officers know two boys would be camping out in the park that closes after dark. I proudly walked down the hill to tell Denny of my recent success. When I returned, he was sitting with a couple McDonald's employees we had seen at lunch earlier that day. We hit the road with the high schoolers five minutes later. All my hard work had meant nothing. As we cruised down the road and I ticked the miles off in my head, I smiled.
-BT

Legal advice

2008-06-24T12:13:00.002-05:00

No Stranger Community

2008-06-23T22:02:00.005-05:00

No Stranger Land is proud to announce an exciting addition to the mission. Introducing - No Stranger Community.

While No Stranger Land is a story of two small pebbles in the pond crossing the country on foot and sharing life with the people they meet along the way, No Stranger Community is about the entire sea of people out there wanting to be inspired, touched and connected. Together we truly can make the world a better place.

This site will be controlled by No Stranger Land, but we don't come up with the content. You do!

***

If No Stranger Land has encouraged you to reach out to someone, or if you have a tale to tell about a time a stranger affected you in a positive way, we want to read, see and hear your stories and share them with the world.

Whether it be through writing, photos, videos or a combination of every element, please send your No Stranger Stories to: NoStrangerCommunity@gmail.com and they'll appear on the site as soon as possible.

We'll gladly accept anecdotes from past experiences, but we strongly encourage you to break out of your shell, connect with someone you otherwise never would have met, and brighten their day today. The encounters can be big or small and can take place in any way, shape or form. The effects can be tangible or intangible, make someone simply smile or affect them forever. Most importantly, we want you to share your stories to help continue making No Stranger Land a reality.

So what are you waiting for? Go check it out!

click here - NO STRANGER COMMUNITY

Bill's garden

2008-06-21T18:35:00.007-05:00

MCLEAN, VIRGINIA - June 21 -- When I was in middle school, my mom would buy groceries at the store and deliver them to the home of the oldest woman I ever knew. She even took Viva out for a birthday dinner a couple times. I think my mom was the only friend Viva had.

Sometimes I would ride along to help carry the food into the house. One day Viva handed me some acorns that had fallen from her tree with instructions to plant them in my yard and watch them grow into tall trees. I thanked her and immediately began gardening after we pulled into our driveway.

I watered the bare spots where I had buried the acorns, but nothing ever happened. They eventually became forgotten failures beneath the dirt. The next time I tagged along on a trip to Viva's house, my mom told me to tell her they had sprouted and were growing strong. I understood why I was to do this. I even included the fact that 'I loved them.'

Viva died not long after. I never regretted lying to her.

***

I'm pretty sure Bill Smith is the oldest man I've ever met. A year or two past 90, he's known around his neighborhood as the guy who walks all about the sidewalks every day and mows his own lawn. As Denny, Jerry and I gave Bill's tomato garden a makeover, I wondered if the old man was watching from the window, or if he was even aware of what we were doing. I was hoping to have a chat with him, but he was nowhere to be found.

Bill had told his neighbor Jerry that he didn't know whether he had big tomato plants and small weeds or big weeds and small tomato plants. When we inquired to our new friends Ross and Anna that we'd like to help some folks out around town, they directed us to Jerry, who looks out for Bill on a regular basis. It was Jerry who helped Bill get his new hearing aid. It was Jerry who led us to Bill's tomato garden.

The plants needed help. We spent the afternoon pulling weeds down to their roots, tilling the soil, stabilizing the vines with stakes and twisty ties, taking compost from Ross' yard and placing it around the roots, and finally letting the tomatoes chug some water.

Jerry, a retired scientist, nearly made our heads explode with the information he injected into our brains about subjects I don't feel comfortable trying to regurgitate in fear of Jerry reading this and being extremely disappointed in our lack of ability to understand the universe. We sat in his front lawn during a break while he quizzed us about what the sun is made of and the basics of the atom - stuff a 7th grader would know and stuff I've since put low on the priority list of knowledge I felt it was important to retain. To Jerry it was life. I felt stupid, but I knew Jerry only had good intentions.

Jerry went to get the hose. As we dug at the dirt in the backyard of an old man I had yet to meet, Denny observed our situation and laughed. 'What are we doing here?' he said. I knew it was more of a comment than a question. This is our way of describing the situations we get ourselves into as surreal in a wonderful way. Jerry returned. 'With the elements our sun is made up of, we shouldn't even be here,' Jerry went on. 'So what are we doing here?' Denny and I had absolutely no idea.

***

Jerry told us what he knew about Bill, much of which remained a mystery. A favorite story was the day Bill, in his 80s at the time, got sick of not seeing the plow trucks come by so he decided to begin shoveling every one of his neighbor's driveways. The people on the street felt so guilty seeing the elderly man breaking his back that they all began to join in.

Jerry explained the rusty, green swing set remained a prominent feature of Bill's backyard because he didn't have the heart to take it down, remembering the days his children used to play on it. The wooden bird that acted as a wind gauge used to have two wings but now it had a half of one. Jerry promised to rebuild it. He was extremely adamant about this. 'The bird will fly again,' he said, choking back tears. Denny and I said nothing, trying not to make Jerry feel embarrassed. He explained it had been an emotional year. I stared into the wooden bird's eye.

***

While adding the finishing touches to the garden, I looked up to see Bill standing in silence, looking at his new garden and smiling.

'The garden didn't look like that this morning,' he said.

When Denny and I explained our adventures, Bill told stories from his days as a traveler. Despite being nearly 70 years apart, we chatted away like old pals.

He paused long and hard between his delicately delivered thoughts. I could have listened to him talk for hours.

'If you climb up any mountains, make sure you get down by walking,' Bill joked.

After a half hour, Bill said he'd better go back inside. I was a better person for having met the man. I suppose I feel that way about everyone I meet, but I remembered thinking this thought at the very moment we parted ways.

Jerry left us with a few final pieces of knowledge that pushed the earlier stuff out of our brains. I was surprised when he had a thought that began with physics and somehow eventually connected back to No Stranger Land and our mission to strengthen interpersonal relationships around the world. Denny commented that he wished he had recorded the theories on video.

'You don't need to recite the words,' Jerry said as we walked away. 'You need to live the reality!'

***

I hope Bill's tomatoes grow bright red and juicy. I guess I'll never know. And I guess that's not the point. My mom once taught me that. More importantly, I really hope he gets to enjoy them.

-BT

Month 1 - Maine to Virginia

2008-06-20T11:42:00.004-05:00

MCCLEAN, VIRGINIA – June 19 -- It’s only been a month on the calendar, but it feels like Brian and I have been on the road for much longer. I have the images running through my head of waking up shivering during the first night, eating half cooked beans, blistering for the first time, the first person signing my hat (Nanci), receiving the first ride, etc. I think about all these ‘firsts’ and it feels like years ago.

Since then we have learned efficient cooking, how to deal with blisters, accepted multiple rides, and now awake to a decent tempature. It’s been amazing how quickly Brian and I have adapted to this journey.

***

Timing has been at the forefront of my thoughts when looking back over the past month. Breaks we wouldn’t have taken other than for tired legs have resulted in meeting new friends and having experiences that would have been otherwise passed over. Unforeseen storms have forced us inside to stay dry, but have resulted in places to stay and connections made. Our openness and vulnerability has allowed for positive situations to occur and it's been the most exciting part so far.

***

Over the past few days I have thought about what I would tell my past self as he sat in the Chicago airport waiting to get on the airplane that would catapult him to Maine. I can still feel the butterflies in my stomach as we landed at the Portland airport. I wouldn't have believed the willingness of strangers to share their life with us. I also had no idea how tough it would be to find a legal camping spot, but how easy it would be to find an illegal one time after time.

***

The last thing I want to reflect on is showering. I’ve probably taken a shower in over ten bathrooms and they all have their own unique style. There’s handles, nozzles, pulling, pushing, lifting up, down, turning, twisting, clockwise, counterclockwise, and all are usually combined together to make the act of cleaning one’s body an adventure all in itself. Why there’s not a universal approach is a mystery to me.
-DC

Friends.com

2008-06-18T10:14:00.005-05:00

WASHINGTON D.C. - June 17 -- ‘My name is Benjamin, and I have lots of toys at my house,’ is how my four-year-old relative introduced himself to me for the first time. I would soon find out first-hand as the blond boy and I pieced together a puzzle of the solar system. Benjamin is the son of my cousin, Kala, who after skimming through our blog decided to give us a lift across the Pennsylvania-Maryland border and to her home in Baltimore. It’s been six years since her wedding - the last time we exchanged words. I never imagined the Internet would be responsible for bringing us together again, but I’m starting to learn it’s become part of our journey.

***

Ross and Anna live just outside the D.C. area. Having never met us before, they still invited Brian and I over for a BBQ at their house in Virginia. They emailed us through the website and offered a place to hang out if needed. Their house is home to seven young professionals, nestled in a nice suburban neighborhood consisting primarily of families.

Shortly after arriving at their home, Brian and I found ourselves part of a corn-on-the-cob assembly line - peeling the ears, buttering, salting, wrapping, and finally placing the corn on the grill. I was the salt guy. Cookouts I’ve had in the past with my friends have never involved a pasta salad like the one Anna concocted. She was extremely pleased with it, as she should be. I even enjoyed the tomatoes, which I would have never eaten a month ago.

People were circulating in and out of the get-together all day. It was relaxing, fun, and actually made me remember a conversation I had with my mom years ago. At the root our talk was my perception how college graduates are so willing to leave their friends in search for a job that could possibly land them in a completely different region of the country. It had seemed that Ross, Anna and their friends had it all figured out. That’s why it struck me as ironic when Ross expressed his interest in our journey and how he wished he were in our position. It seemed the grass looked greener in both our eyes that day.

***

Daniel is a third year law student at the University of Iowa and found out about No Stranger Land through an article in the Daily Iowan newspaper about our journey. He’s working in D.C. this summer and emailed us with an offer to feed Brian and I for an evening. We accepted the invitation because of the opportunity to meet a new friend, not because it was a free meal. The food was delicious, however, as Brian and I left no food on the table. But the best part of the dinner was having some great conversation with the native of Louisiana. We promised to meet up again in Iowa when we're both in the area.

I was particularly impressed with Luna's bathroom. I suggested it would be in Daniel and Brian’s best interest to drink lots of water so they could check it out. The inspirational leaders of the past were painted on the pitch-black walls. Messages printed in chalk-like fashion made it one of my favorite rooms of all time, even if it did have a toilet in it.

***

I got the chance to hang out with Mike for a couple of days. He had some great ideas for ways to maximize the success of the journey. Mike works for the United Way and gave us a tour of their central office. Brian and I had a great chance to talk with some very passionate people.

Mike let us stay in his one-person efficiency in D.C., just a few blocks from the White House. It felt like a middle-school slumber party while we ordered pizza and talked late into the night.

After we parted ways, Juan and Sarah picked us up to have us over for dinner. The 24-year old self-proclaimed professional cook made a fulfilling spaghetti feast. Juan shared his unique version of drinking Corona with Brian and I, adding grenadine to sweeten up the Mexican beer. This was a trademark of his black fraternity, whose colors were red and white. They dropped us off back at our friends Ross and Anna's place.

***

As I sit in Ross and Anna’s living room typing this post, I can't help but think I would likely have never met any of these people had I not taken off on this adventure. I'm sure glad I did.

-DC

Learning bridges

2008-06-17T16:54:00.004-05:00

YOU ASK, WE SHOW

2008-06-15T23:03:00.001-05:00

Are you finding everything you need?

2008-06-13T16:15:00.010-05:00

BALTIMORE, MARYLAND – June 13 – The ceiling fan struck my skull with two of its blades before I could react. I rested back down on the top bunk and checked my forehead for blood. It appeared no medical attention would be necessary, but it still wasn’t the best start to a morning. Niall had warned me of the hazard the night before, but apparently his words hadn’t sunk into to my sleepy head. As I lay back down, however, I was thankful to be on a mattress and to have found cover from the nasty hailstorm the night before.

As we walked west through Pennsylvania the day prior, a man had warned us about the front moving our way. He stopped us as we walked past a Laundromat to ask a few questions about our hike.

‘What, ya couldn’t get jobs or something?’ was one of his lines that told me we had opposite ideologies. Washing clothes must have satisfied this man’s lust for adventure.

‘Storm should be here in about an hour. Where ya sleepin’ tonight?’ he asked.

We told him we didn’t know, thanked him for the warning and moved on. It was hard to believe bad weather was approaching since the sky was sunny and clear at that moment.

We walked no more than 20 minutes before a car pulled over. ‘Thank you!’ I thought, figuring this was our savior stopping to help us avoid a harsh evening. We recognized the man from the Laundromat, who was now with his family.

‘Hey, what’s that website of yours?’ he yelled from the driver’s seat.

We gave him one of our cards. ‘Thanks!’ he shouted, driving off, leaving us feeling vulnerable and helpless as the storm showed its ugly face four minutes later.

***

We had to make a decision. Hang out under an overpass? Knock on someone’s front door? Find a business with late hours? Then Denny spotted Starbucks. They were open until 10 p.m. Seemed like a fine choice.

We threw down our clunky bags near a table by the window and, more importantly, an outlet. Denny was wearing a gray t-shirt that day, making the sweat outlines all the more obvious. The manager welcomed us with warming words nonetheless. We told him we were traveling across America, trying our best to discover what it was all about. He shook our hands and we picked out the best-looking muffins.

Not long after we devoured our dinner, the hail pounded down. It sounded like there was a driving range next door and the coffee shop was the target. I’m still surprised the glass didn’t shatter.

Each time we refilled our water or walked by the counter, the staff – invested in our well being at this point – asked if we had come up with plan. The storm showed no signs of stopping, so the answer was no. Had this been the first night of the journey, I think Denny and I would have been a bit more concerned, but we knew something would work out. It always does when you’re flexible and open to anything.

I did what I always do when I’m feeling overwhelmed by a present situation. I called home. I chatted with my dad for a few minutes about the flooding back in Iowa. My mom was at work. My grandma suggested we get a hotel for the night. It wasn’t that we couldn’t afford it, but that would be bending our rules, so I wanted to keep that a last resort. It was dark by now. Denny and I had never gone past sunset without knowing where we would sleep, but this is a trip of many firsts. Plus, talking to grandma always made everything seem okay.

***

When I came back from the bathroom, the pair of girls - both named Megan - that had been sitting behind us since we walked in were chatting with Denny. After a bit of questioning, the offer was on the table. We could camp in one of their family’s backyards. We were saved.

They had to switch cars but promised to return. Denny and I checked our email, reading one telling us our experience would be enhanced if we made ourselves more vulnerable to the world. I laughed. Denny was pissed. This lifestyle seemed to get pretty high marks in that category if you asked us.

Another email came from a sponsor of the Bonnaroo music festival – the biggest concert of the summer. He liked what we were up to and said if we could make it to Manchester, Tennessee, by the weekend, he had tickets with our names on them. Denny and I were giddy liked kids on Christmas morning. Deep down we knew it wasn’t plausible. On the surface we glowed at the thought.

Melody, a Starbucks barista, winked as she told us she was supposed to throw away all the expired food at night. A few minutes later, she came back with a goody bag filled with sandwiches, wraps and parfaits. We thanked her endlessly and hopped in the car with the Megans.

‘Change of plans,’ one of them said. ‘If you’re okay with it, my boyfriend has an extra bedroom and he said you guys could stay.’

The apartment was a 45-minute drive west – the direction we were heading. One hour of driving on the highway equals three days of walking with backpacks. We, of course, couldn’t refuse.

***

As we approached the place, we thought it might be awkward to meet a guy whose girlfriend had called him not too long ago to inform him she was brining back two guys her age she had just met. Two minutes after meeting Niall, we could tell we were going to click. His dog, Molly, gave me a punch in between my legs as I walked up the stairs. Niall apologized. When I caught my breath, I commended Molly for a nice shot.

He said his sister was a world-traveler, so he took well to our kind. We offered everyone our plethora of Starbucks cuisine. After some conversation, Niall and I found out we knew the same people who went to school at the University of Iowa – just one degree of separation. The world is sometimes more connected than we think.

Denny and I played rock-paper-scissors for the bottom bunk. I lost.

***

The Megans dropped us off in the heart of Amish country the next morning. I agreed to work on the blog while Denny explored. I couldn’t help but eavesdrop on the table of ten retired men sipping coffee and munching bacon.

‘I heard that people over in Europe think that someone will try to shoot Obama,’ one man said, creating quite the reaction.

‘I heard the same thing about people in Spain,’ another man replied.

‘Spain is part of Europe,’ a third man offered.

I tried my best to concentrate on my task-at-hand, although it was difficult. Denny returned, telling about his interactions with the friendly Amish in a local store. He said he was hesitant to mention our website and reveal the digital camera from his pocket. As I saw the horse-and-buggy cruise down the road, I didn’t blame him. It seemed like a pleasant existence. ‘Are you finding everything you need?’ the Amish man asked Denny. If only we knew exactly what we were looking for.

***

We walked down a picturesque highway not more than half a mile before a guy with his belongings on his bike stopped us. He introduced himself as Ray. He was decked out in cycling gear and rode alone.

‘I saw you guys off highway 30 and thought I’d see what you were up to,’ he said.

We told him we were traveling on foot to California via the south, trying to connect with strangers along the way. To our amazement, he was doing the same thing on two wheels. He had a partner until two days before, but his friend had badly injured his knee, so Ray was continuing on solo. We exchanged business cards, stories of searching for illegal camping spots each night, and agreed to meet up again in New Orleans to help rebuild the city. As Ray rode off into the distance, Denny and I shook our heads while smiling. We loved our world.

***

We sat outside the gas station, sitting on our bags and eating Snickers bars, looking like a couple of guys without a care in the world. A rugged-looking man stared down at us and spoke.

‘What’s the difference between a vacuum and a guy on a Harley Davidson?’

Denny and I shrugged.

‘Not much. Dirt bag’s just in a different position,’ he said. Without waiting for our reaction, he hopped on his motorcycle and rode off, exchanging peace signs with us.

‘Who says that?’ Denny asked while we finished laughing.

‘That guy,’ I said.

The storm had cooled the temperature by a few degrees, but we still had to make our steps quick, otherwise our feet would sink into the melting tar on the road.

***

‘Where are you guys going?’ asked a girl cleaning her car.

‘The Pacific ocean,’ Denny yelled. We get this question a lot. Sometimes we choose to name our same-day destination. Other times we opt to say California. As you’d imagine, the answers get different reactions.

Her name was Jessica, and she was one of the nicest people I’ve ever met. She performed in the local theater. After some formalities and chitchat, we walked on, certain we’d never see her again. A half-hour later, we saw Jessica checking her oil.

‘You’re not going to believe what I did,’ she said. ‘You might think this is crazy, but I was actually hoping to run into you guys again. I left some tickets at the entrance for the show tonight for you guys. I thought maybe you’d like some free entertainment and would like to get out of the heat.’

We told her we had planned to make it to the campsite on the Susquehanna River by sunset. She said if we accepted her offer to see the show, she’d drive us to our destination. Denny spoke for the both of us. ‘Yes.’

Jessica had her own rehearsal to attend, so we parted ways, leaving our big bag in our new friend’s trunk and agreeing on a meeting spot following the show. Denny and I split the special at the diner next door. His phone rang. It was an unknown number. I could tell by his facial expressions and his side of the conversation that something big was about to happen to us. I was certain we were on our way to Bonnaroo.

It turned out a cousin he hadn’t seen in years would be coming to give us a lift to Baltimore the next day. It would be our eighth state in three weeks without transportation to call our own aside from our sneakers. We were moving and moving quickly. The waitress told us she was jealous of her friends who left on a road trip to Bonnaroo the night before. Denny and I smiled. Fate was a funny thing. Missing an opportunity by a day only meant something else was bound to happen the next.

***

Neither Denny nor I are very religious. I joked with him not to pull out his book on existentialism as we took our seats at the play about Abraham and Sarah at the Christian theater.

Women pulled out Kleenex and wiped their tears while Denny and I tried to understand how a guy who cheated on his wife could possibly offer moral guidance for the young children in the audience. The entertainment was very refreshing, no matter what our beliefs were.

What I enjoyed even more was the conversation with Jessica. The way she spoke so softly as we coasted over Pennsylvania’s rolling back roads made me feel at ease. She gave us a DVD of one of her singing performances. We promised to listen and to let her know if we were ever in the area again.

We chose a campsite right on the creek. We let our raw feet soak in the cool waters and talked about our thoughts on God. I slept outside beneath the open universe that night. It was the first time I had ever done so, but surely not the last.
-BT

YOU ASK, WE ANSWER

2008-06-13T00:55:00.001-05:00

Why did the turtle cross the road?

2008-06-11T08:22:00.006-05:00

BIRD-IN-HAND, PENNSYLVANIA - June 11 -- I turned on my cell phone to check the time. 5:40 a.m. I unzipped the tent to see that the sun had already begun beating down on the earth in central New Jersey, and that no animals had gotten to the granola bars Laurie's mom had given us. Denny and I decided to chuck them outside the night before after hearing animal noises that we were certain could come from nothing other than a bull. We figured if whatever beast was roaming around wanted our breakfast, we'd let him have it. We were recently informed that once wild animals smell food, they can take down two-person tents while yawning. And if we needed help, we knew there was no one around because staying in this state park a half hour after sunset was a no-no. We would later find out that deer are great at bull impressions.

I've watched more sunrises these last three weeks than I have in the rest of my days combined, and this one impressed me just as much as the others. I felt good on this morning, like everything we were doing with our time on this earth made perfect sense. Denny slowly rose from on top of his sleeping bag. We didn't need to tuck ourselves inside them for the first time this trip because of the heat. We also neglected to put the rain cover on to keep our home from turning into a sauna, even though lightning struck from the distance as we tried to fall asleep. Aside from our sweat, we were dry when we woke.

We were up and on the road by 6:15. The temperature reached 96 degrees by 9 a.m. According to weather.com, combined with the humidity this 'feels like 101.' We began the day with our usual 10 minutes of silence before transitioning into several hours of chit-chat and laughter. If I tried to explain our lingo and inside jokes, you may not even crack a smile, yet our conversations frequently lead us to belly laughs and watery eyes.

The honey-oat bars sufficed. Now we would need water, and lots of it. While walking through a modest neighborhood, a 40-year-old guy named Bob approached us with full, ice-cold bottles of the stuff.

'Saw ya hiking from the window. Thought you boys could use these,' Bob said. Even the perspiration on the outside of the bottle looked delicious. I wanted to lick it off, but it didn't seem appropriate as we chatted to Bob about our intentions of reaching the Pacific.

Our bodies absorbed the H2O in no time. I can tell I'm dehydrated when I chug it down and still don't have to pee. We needed more. Seeking out the most basic of human needs was on top of our to-do list on this day, which Denny described so accurately in just two words - 'Friggin' hot.'

We entered a deli off the side of the highway. The two guys working behind the counter stared at us with skeptical eyes at first.

'Do you mind if we fill up our hydration packs?' Denny asked?

'Yeah, I guess you could use the bathroom sink,' one guy said with a thick Jersey accent.

They sensed we weren't going to buy anything, which was true, so I felt slightly uncomfortable sitting with the bags, dripping sweat onto their floor.

'So what are you doing, hiking across the country or something?' the guy joked.

'Yep, that's what we're up to,' I replied.

'No way. Are you serious?' the guy said, hitting his buddy on the shoulder to get him in on the conversation, which was growing warmer by the second.

Denny came out with two liters of fresh bathroom water as I rushed to treat myself to the same. I could overhear them grilling Denny with the standard string of questions - Where'd ya start?, Where ya tryin' ta end up?, That's all the stuff you have with you?, Why are you doing this?, Are you crazy?

'When these guys came in, I didn't even wanna give 'em water!' the guy said with a loud laugh.

Dmitri introduced himself, tossed us a pair of crisp, red apples on the house and wished us luck. A couple pieces of fresh fruit can do a lot for the mind, body and soul.

***

We walked all 22 miles to Princeton. Although we were pounding the water, Denny said his piss looked like Lemon-Lime Gatorade. We applied body glide to the appropriate places, but our thighs still chafed. Not only is 'chafe' my least favorite word in the English language, it's extremely high on my list of things I wish would never happen to me again.

We found ourselves on the campus of our second Ivy League school in two weeks. We didn't have any more money budgeted for the day, so we took a seat outside and watched a bunch of people much smarter than us roam the downtown before we gathered the strength to continue walking.

The laughter concluded for the day as we went into serious mode. This usually happens when the traffic picks up - a sign that the work day has ended and it's time to begin figuring out a plan to find a place to sleep. We don't have to say a word, knowing we are both scanning the area for dense-enough woods to hide out in. We always start out by satisfying ourselves with a that-would-do-if-it-came-to-it plan, followed by trying to upgrade the accommodations by a star or two. We heard an awful crunch come from a few feet behind us. A massive turtle had tried crossing the road and fell victim to truck tires. The world was too fast for him. I feel the same way sometimes as we walk.

Like we always do, we arbitrarily chose a place to inquire about filling our water supply. This time it was Peterson's Garden Center that we eyed. We crossed the road, having much better fortune than the turtle, and a bit more specific intentions than the chicken. We needed to hydrate.

We were oblivious that the store was closing in five minutes as Mrs. Peterson stood behind the counter and greeted us with a smile.

'You can take from the hose here, otherwise we sell Gatorade in the back,' she said. Aside from having no more money allotted for the day, the thought of Gatorade just made me think of drinking Denny's urine. We opted for the free faucet.

She asked the question we didn't have an answer to. 'So where ya gonna sleep tonight?'

'Ummmm...., we were hoping to make it to the Delaware River to camp along the state park there, but I'm not sure we're going to reach it tonight,' I said.

Mrs. Peterson took the situation into her own hands, calling the police on us.

'Hello, this is not an emergency. I'm calling from Peterson's Garden Center and I have two gentlemen here who are traveling across the country and are looking for a place to camp for the night. Could they camp in any of the parks around town? They look like really nice boys....Uhh-huh....Yes....Yes....Okay.'

No way. We thanked her for her efforts and told her we didn't want her to feel pressured to figure out our predicament for us. She asked her husband if we could sleep in the store, but he cited insurance policies as the good reason why that wouldn't fly.

Sue Steen overheard our conversation. We introduced ourselves, shaking her hand.

'Any boys who shake my hand not only would make their mothers proud, they can also camp on my porch for all I care.'

Mrs. Peterson apologized for not being able to come through and gave Sue some tomatoes for our dinner. She had done more than enough. We hopped in Sue's van and rode toward her house, thanking her ear off. She explained she had a 24-year-old son at home and she would hope people would do the same for him.

The offer and the trust snowballed from, 'Camp in my backyard,' to meeting the family, showering, throwing in a load of laundry, a vegetarian feast (along with a steak to split for the Iowa boys), and finally, 'Go ahead and sleep on the couches tonight.'

Without typing them out in their entirety, it's difficult to reflect how intimate the conversations can become with the people we meet who were previously strangers. It's a shame because they are my favorite part of this journey. Everyone has something to offer. There is something to learn from every individual. From Sue, we learned the specifics of gardening in the Garden State. From her husband Rich, we clarified the differences between mediators and arbitrators. From their son Rich, we learned about car repairing and landscaping techniques. And so much more.

***

I woke in the Steen's living room the next morning to the sounds of a chirping bird. I hand't noticed the cage hanging in the corner when I drifted off to sleep the night before. I lifted my head and was confused by my whereabouts for a few seconds. The new face of the Polish cleaning girl didn't help. I waved hello anyway.

I love the situational roller coaster this journey lends itself to. One night we slept in a tent, fearful an animal was to strike at any second only to wake in the morning in peace to beautiful nature. The next night we find ourselves in a cozy home belonging to our newest friends. That morning I would find out Denny got attacked by the family cat, ripped clothing and all.

We drove to Home Depot later that day with Rich to help him load and transport 1,080 pounds of sand and gravel to the house for the landscaping project. The heat had come back stronger that day. We made sure to drink plenty of water.

The stuff we'll remember

2008-06-10T09:25:00.003-05:00

PRINCETON, N.J. - JUNE 9 -- We hadn’t truly contemplated the daunting task of walking out of the biggest city in America until it was nearing time to leave New York City. Little did we know, Laurie had just finished writing us an email that would eventually solve the problem:

"hey guys!

i know this is a random email, but i guess that is somewhat the purpose of your trip. my name is laurie and i heard about your walk from nate swetalla. we are friends from when we were both living in valparaiso... i just moved back east to my hometown (manasquan) about 2 weeks ago and would love to offer you a bit of a ride or a place to stay if you are passing through the jersey shore. i saw that you are probably in connecticut somewhere & i don't know your route. i am in central new jersey right by the beach (which frankly is the best part of jersey!). let me know if i can help you out at all... i know the new york/north jersey area could be a tough walk. it would be great to meet you guys! hope to hear from you & safe travels!

best,
laurie :) "

***

After Laurie picked us up, we were on our way to the Jersey Shore. We warmed up to one another quickly. As we watched a mass of people roam the shore, Laurie told us what a ‘Benny' was. Brian and I were, and somewhat still are, confused as to how to actually spot one. She explained the acronym stands for Bayonne, Elizabeth, Newark, and New York-area tourists who flood the Jersey Shore during the summer. This left us wondering what our label was. Did they have a nickname for Iowans?

We stayed overnight at Laurie's house and got to know her family. We watched the Belmont Stakes as her dad made us laugh when he mentioned he was pretty sure they turned horses into glue. We played peek-a-boo with Laurie's 6-month-old nephew, Benjamin, sometimes making him laugh, other times making him cry.

Moving on from Laurie’s house sounded simple. As her brother Brian explained to us, ‘All you have to do is take the Capital Trail west and it will take you guys directly to the Pennsylvania border.’ However, I was on the computer later on when I figured out, through Wikipedia, that the trail exists only on paper and is to be completed in 2010. This didn’t pose a serious concern as it meant getting out of Jersey would just take a bit longer.

We packed up our bags and just before we put them on, Laurie's grandfather, who was turning 86 the next day, showed up at the home. He seemed more excited than us about our project, telling stories of the time he rode his bicycle to New York State with nothing but a tent.

'It was an adventure alright,' he said. 'That's the stuff you'll remember when you're my age.'

-DC

Angelwish

2008-06-09T10:50:00.005-05:00

While in Manhattan, we had the pleasure of spending time with Shimmy Mehta, the founder of our new favorite charity - Angelwish. Shimmy's passion for brightening the lives of strangers was clear as he described to us the foundation he began nine years ago. He has since left what he calls 'the corporate rat race' to pursue something he feels is very meaningful to him and our world. No Stranger Land supports him and his mission to the fullest. We think we can all learn a lesson from this great guy.

To learn more, please check out: www.angelwish.org

New York City

2008-06-07T10:22:00.003-05:00

Sound sleep

2008-06-06T16:04:00.004-05:00

BREWSTER, N.Y. – June 5 -- I knew it wasn't a good thing when the Taylor family’s cat jumped onto the nightstand, but I didn't have enough time to react as it knocked over everything in its path. It took over a half hour to collect the debris that scattered all over the floor of the bedroom that Rue had assigned me. But after the disaster that I have kept secret until now, it was quite peaceful spending the first night in over two weeks without Brian lying at my side.

The night before was a far cry from a comfortable sleeping situation as the setting sun forced us to get crafty when deciding where to place our tent in an empty lot of woods in New Milford. It was a nice town where multiple movies, including Mr. Deeds with Adam Sandler, have been filmed, but we seemed to have found the worst part of the city to call home for the evening. Many mysterious sounds made for the worst night of rest on the trip yet. So 24 hours later, I found myself overjoyed to have my mind at ease in my own bed. A wedding dress dangling in the corner of the room reminded me of my sister’s wedding as I relaxed while reading a book that had only been extra weight in our bag until then.

***

‘I hope they let us in,’ I joked to Brian when we went to enter the Bank Street coffee shop looking fairly homeless with our scruffy faces, tired eyes, and belongings on our backs.

We were inside for only a short while when Rue, the owner, had gotten word of our cross-country hike. I presume she was told by the two cute college-aged girls working behind the counter I had attempted to flirt with. Being from Minnesota, Rue felt it was her duty to treat the two Iowa boys to the ‘Jeffrey Special’ – her son’s favorite, which consisted of three eggs, bacon, ham, and a big piece of sausage all crammed in a croissant. Brian barely chewed as he nearly swallowed the delicious sandwich whole.

Rue made frequent appearances at our table that morning and informed us she had called her husband Mike to see if we could lend their family a hand in any way for the day. Consequently, I found myself chopping down a tree in the Taylor’s backyard a couple hours later.

‘I think you mean Paul Bunyan, not Paul Revere, dude,’ Brian explained to me after I tried to reference the mythological lumberjack as I swung an axe at our tree. Although it wasn’t enormous in size, I felt uniquely strong as I glared at the defeated limbs lying at my feet. Mike and Rue took us in for the night. Both of their grown children have moved away, yet they found themselves with a pair of kids for a day. We pet their trio of anxious dogs, one of which continued to sneak up and lick our dirty socks, as we relaxed on the couch while watching Obama reach the necessary delegate count to be his party's nominee. Mike joked that even though we were Democrats, we could still stay in his home.

When I dozed off to sleep later that evening, I took full advantage of Brian’s absence as I sprawled my body across the giant bed.
-DC

New steps

2008-06-03T17:26:00.010-05:00

NEW MILFORD, CONN. - June 3 -- 'Are you SURE it's this way?' I yelled at Denny as we searched for the park. 'She said a left at the pub and then it's not too far down the road,' he replied. We were both out of breath from jogging down the middle of the street with all our belongings strapped to our backs. The sky reminded me of Halloween - black in most places, a frightening shade of orange in others. Not only were we concerned all our electronic gear was about to get soaked in the storm, it looked as if the world just might come to an end the evening we spent in Sheffield, Massachusetts.

We reached the park but saw no signs of a shelter we could pitch our tent under like the man in the diner had promised. We shouted a few obscenities but knew we couldn't afford to waste much time complaining. This was the first time foul weather was a serious opponent on our trip, and it appeared we were about to lose very badly.

You're not going to believe me when you read this, but the Sheffield Pub five blocks away was the only place at this time of day in this tiny town with open doors. It was our only choice. The rain began to fall. I had the pack with the laptop, camera and other electronic equipment that day, so Denny told me to run on ahead of him. When I turned back just a minute later, I saw no sign of him. A car pulled next to me and a woman I had never seen before shouted my name. I saw Denny and our other pack in the backseat. 'Want a lift?' she asked with a wide grin. I jumped in her car without replying. 'Where to?' she asked. 'I'm heading north.'

Unfortunately we had just walked 15 miles from the north, so her generous offer wouldn't do us much good. She drove us four blocks before we hopped out and ran into the bar, but those four blocks just might have saved us from more trouble than we care to dwell on.

***

Everyone stared, and I mean everyone, at the pair of twenty-something, out-of-breath, out-of-towners, wet from a combination of perspiration and precipitation. We tried to act like everything was cool and that our intentions to come to the pub were to eat, drink and socialize. As we slammed our bulky bags onto the booth, the string of questions regarding our presence began.

'You boys hiking in this stuff?' a lady asked as we saw the rain through the window turn to marble-sized hail.

It wasn't more than ten minutes later that everyone in the place knew we were traveling cross-country. Somehow we were part of five separate, simultaneous conversations. The couple in the booth behind Denny asked how far we had walked. The couple seated in the booth behind me asked where we planned to sleep that night. The couple at the bar asked about our website. The owner told us to pick anything on the menu and that it was on the house. The guy who just won a $5,000 lottery handed every patron, including Denny and I, a pair of chips good for free beers. Whether we liked it or not, we found ourselves in the spotlight on this very dark day.

My mind was at ease as I inhaled the best meatball sandwich I've ever eaten and washed it down with the best kind of beer - free beer. But once Joan, the owner, took our empty plates away, I grew concerned. Where the hell were we going to sleep? We hadn't seen any hotels in Sheffield, and our tiny tent wouldn't stand a chance against Mother Nature this night.

The man who had inquired about this issue approached our table. 'Yeah, so I just called Lone Oak, it's a really nice campground in Connecticut, the Cadillac of camping grounds. And they say you're in for no charge tonight, so we'll take you there after this beer.' I felt like a cat that just jumped out of a ninth-story window and landed on its feet.

'After this beer' turned into after the next. Denny and I didn't care. We were no longer in a hurry to figure anything out since Bob had come to our rescue. We said goodbye to the big happy family at the pub and thanked them for everything. As we threw our bags into Bob's trunk, he opened a cooler. 'So this town exactly one beer away,' he said as he handed everyone a can. He had taken charge of our fate, so we were playing by his rules.

He explained the area in hilarious detail as his wife Pam made sure we had everything we needed. 'That town is where the men are men and so are the women,' said Bob, who never laughed at his own jokes.

We arrived at the campsite. He wasn't kidding. This place had anything you could imagine from a pair of Olympic-sized swimming pools to an outdoor movie projector. The place was lined with $200,000 RVs. We found site 629 and put up our $99 summer home in under two minutes. It took up approximately one-fiftieth of the designated plot of land.

***

'How do both of you fit inside there?' Chelsea, the 9-year-old camping with her family on site 630, asked us as she pointed to our tent. That was the start of our two-day friendship.

'Florida,' she yelled from her camper as I unfolded my sleeping bag. 'Tallahassee,' I shouted back. Her class was studying state capitals, but since she already knew them all, she was quizzing me. 'Pierre,' she shouted. 'South Dakota,' I replied. I overheard her mother, Jean, tell Chelsea that I probably wanted to go to bed now. 'It's okay, I said as I took a seat next to their campfire. 'Keep 'em coming.' Chelsea smiles as her big dimples showed. I knew she was the type of kid who wouldn't stop until we'd done all fifty.

'South Carolina,' she said confidently. 'Columbus,' I said. 'WRONG,' she screamed. 'It's ColumBIA.' I win. Her mother shook her head and laughed. 'Smart girl,' I said. On my command, Chelsea woke Denny from the tent and told him to come hang out. Jean's husband T.J. and Uncle Dick joined us. Chelsea got most of the words in and cooked us s'mores that hit the spot.

***

We planned to head south of town the following morning. After a good-night's sleep, a shower, a load of laundry, and the often tedious task of updating the website, we found it was already 1 p.m. During the three hours we worked cropping photos, editing videos and writing blogs in the laundry room, Chelsea came in to check on us every ten minutes. She would end up regretting this since everyone at her campsite began calling me her boyfriend. 'No he's not!' she blushed. She disappeared inside for a while to let the waters calm, then once she figured everyone forgot, she asked if I wanted to play baseball.

Jean and T.J. had a proposition. 'You guys are welcome to put up your tent on our site tonight and then T.J. can drive you to Kent tomorrow morning when he goes to work at 6.' I was still donning knee and ankle braces and knew it would be smart to let my injuries heal. Plus, I was having fun hanging out with my new girlfriend and her family. We decided to take them up on the offer.

'We're gonna teach you boys how to play horseshoes,' said T.J. as Uncle Dick nodded his head. I wouldn't have been surprised if he was born in his cowboy hat it looked so perfect on him.

After five games of horseshoes, Denny and I decided that had been enough time to learn the game, and the fact we continued to miss the pole only meant one thing: We sucked. Our respective teammates didn't give up on us, teaching us a new tip after each miss. The competition between the two pros made for quite a match. I counted the fact that Denny's sailing horseshoes hadn't smashed my bare toes as a personal victory.

When we returned to our site, Jean had a feast prepared. Denny and I were ready to cook rice and beans, but when Jean caught word of this she yelled, 'Get your butts over here right now. I hate leftovers, so you better eat up.' People continued to look out for us like we were their own.

After dinner, Chelsea the Energizer fourth-grader was ready for some soccer and then a bit of baseball and finally Frisbee. We called it an early night, knowing we had to rise with the sun. But Denny and I couldn't fall asleep as we continued to laugh at nonsense. I think we were so relaxed since we were in such good company, not to mention in a legal camping spot for once. The morning came quickly.

***

T.J. drove us 29 miles to Kent - the town he worked in. All he would accept in return for his family's generosity was the promise to send him a T-shirt when we complete the journey. We shook hands goodbye to yet another previous stranger we could now call a friend.

Denny and I entered the coffee shop on Kent's main street before 7 a.m. We were getting a good start to this day and were ready to get bold with our mission. We chatted it up with the employees and word spread like wildfire throughout the small-town hangout about how we were spending our summer.

I approached a woman who had her arm in a sling and told her we would like to help her out in some way, shape or form. She said she had nothing for us and took a seat at our table. I focused in on her accent and guessed correctly that she was originally from England. We chatted for another 15 minutes before parting ways. 'Are you sure there's nothing we can do to brighten your day,' I asked. 'You already have,' she said. 'It was lovely talking with you.'

***

'I'm your new friend Jim,' said a tall man as he approached our table. He had learned of No Stranger Land from the woman at the counter. He explained it to his wife. 'Yeah these guys are going around the country meeting people. They call it New Friend Land or something.' I liked Jim from the start.

'Please tell us if there are any projects you've been meaning to get done. We'd love to help you out. We're not asking anything in return,' I said.

'Well, we do have a little yard work if you're serious,' he said. Denny and I literally jumped at the opportunity. Jim and Carolyn drove us to their home, which was located on Kent School's property. Jim was a math teacher and coached a handful of sports including football, tennis and chess at the prestigious boarding school. He invited us inside as his wife drove off to her own teaching job. I could tell he was feeling a bit guilty about telling us what work we could do. 'You like chess? I have the best chess board in the world. I made it myself. Go ahead, play a game while I get some tools.'

Denny and I hadn't taken a piece from one another before Jim appeared in the front yard with everything from his shed. He explained what needed to be done, being careful not to be too commanding. 'Now are you sure?' he asked. And 'If you're serious about this,' he prefaced the tasks.

I told Jim he could lock us out as he headed to a meeting. 'This house hasn't been locked in 25 years,' he said. I found this fact extremely comforting. 'I'll be back in a couple hours,' he said.

Denny and I immediately designated projects. He would do the hedge trimming and clean up the front yard while I would tackle getting the weed-covered deck into shape. We agreed to do as much work possible before Jim came home so we could leave in time to avoid him attempting to compensate us.

We got in a zone, hardly speaking to each other for two-straight hours. Beads of sweat dripped from my forehead and my freshly-washed jeans were covered in mud. After we finished our initial tasks, we found more. Denny sprayed off the lawn chairs we did our best to fix the stone staircase. Just as we were finishing the final step, Jim appeared. 'Wow, looks great guys. you really got a lot done,' he said, not even observing the extent of our efforts. 'Let's go get some lunch.'

We agreed to eat since we were extremely hungry by now, but as we drove downtown, I knew we couldn't let Jim pay or else that would neutralize our good deed. He chose a modest burger joint and we filled our bellies. I pretended to get some more napkins at the counter but was really there to slip our waitress the money for the bill. When it came time to pay, Jim reached for his wallet. 'It's already taken care of,' I explained. He wasn't really sure how to react.

As we grabbed our bags from his trunk, he looked for some items that may be of some use to us. 'Here's a speedometer. Need that for any reason?' he asked. I knew he was partly joking, but I also think he would have happily let us take it. 'No, that will just depress us when we see how slow we're walking,' I joked.

He was trying his best to do something in return. We shook his hands and began walking south toward New Milford, leaving Jim confused as to why these two strangers had come into his life.

'I hope you agreed it was a good idea to pay for his lunch,' I said to Denny, feeling bad I hadn't been able to run the idea by him first.

'We can't do it all the time,' he said.

'I know, but it was pretty cool to see the look on his face.'

Denny went silent for a few seconds and then smiled.

'Yeah, he was pretty confused. It was pretty awesome.'

-BT

YOU ASK, WE ANSWER

2008-06-03T09:19:00.002-05:00

The Appalachian fail

2008-06-01T08:43:00.015-05:00

EAST CANAAN, CONN. - June 1 - I have no recollection of either of my grandfathers. They both died before my third birthday. I've never really known what it's like to share a hug with an old man.

It didn't seem like we were going to meet anyone on this day. We'd been hiking for over five hours on the Appalachian Trail in western Massachusetts and hadn't seen any sign of human life since walking for the first few minutes on the path with a guy who called himself Sasquatch. After he vanished into the woods, Denny and I were left with nothing but beautiful nature and a terrain that made no sense to walk on with a sprained knee and swollen ankle. But we walked anyway.

We've told a handful of people that we would likely follow the Appalachian Trail to make our way south. Like many other elements of our trip, we have no idea what to expect in advance, so there's really no point in attempting to answer questions prior to figuring them out as we go. Yet we continue to do so anyway. Bad habit I guess.

The trail offered complete solitude. It was American nature at its finest. It was a refreshing opposite of the life-in-the-fast-lane culture. It was challenging. And it wasn't for us. Not on this trip, at least.

There was nowhere to get guaranteed clean water without a filter. We hadn't thought about that. We would have no way to charge our equipment, so maintaining the blog was out of the question. We hadn't considered that. The trail was so rough and hilly that we were only averaging a mile an hour with our heavy packs. We underestimated that. And we weren't meeting anyone. We didn't want that.

We don't want to escape society. We want to jump off the deep end and dive right into it. After several beautiful, difficult hours on the trail, we arrived to the first road we had seen in quite a while. It was all gravel and didn't look like a well-traveled route, but it was a sign of life nonetheless. We sat on road-side stones to form a game plan of rehydrating and searching for sleeping quarters. To our surprise, a car cut through the trees on the skinny road and slowly approached us. I waved it down despite having no premeditated intentions.

'You boys alright?' asked a friendly-looking older couple as their four-year-old Maltese, Benji, barked at the smelly, sweaty rookie hikers.

'I think so,' I said. 'We're just trying to figure out how to find some drinking water. Are we close to any town?'

The woman smiled. 'Follow us just down this road over the hill. We're at 115. You can't miss it. We'll get you some water.'

As we approached the well-hidden home, the sign reading, 'SLOW - Grandparents at play' made me smile. Another sign hung on their house. 'Welcome,' it read, and that's exactly how Don and Irene made us feel.

'You boys looked pretty pathetic,' Irene joked. We explained we didn't know what we were getting into since we've been handling the logistics of our trip day-by-day, trying to see America without too many preconceived notions. They laughed and offered us food and drinks.

'Take a seat,' they urged. We watched the news for the first time since leaving home, catching up on the democratic campaign and sharing our outlook on the country with our new friends.

'I feel sorry for you boys for the world you're inheriting,' Irene said. This comment really stuck out since her demeanor otherwise was nothing but joyful and optimistic.

They'd been married 55 years and had lived in the cozy home for around 30. 'I'd feel a lot better if we could do something for you,' I said. 'Are there any projects you've been meaning to get done? Please, put us to work!'

Instead, Irene handed me a pack and told me to ice my fat ankle. 'You missed all the work. We got it all done yesterday,' she said with a grin. Another failed attempt to have a tangible effect on anyone. Denny and I shared the guest bedroom that night, falling asleep while analyzing the need to strengthen our approach. We need to spend less than 10 hours a day walking to ensure we have time and energy to stroll through neighborhoods, knock on doors -taking people by surprise rather than inquiring if there's anything we can do. We need to spend less time on our website telling about our days and more time living out our mission. And we need to stay the hell away from the Appalachian Trail.

***

I'm oblivious to the details, but it was made clear that Don's health is not at its best. As he drove us toward Stockbridge the next morning, I sat in the back, wishing I could give him some of my youth, some of this energy I don't know what to do with. He seemed to have life figured out. He could do more good with my mind and body than I.

But that isn't how it works. The reality is that I'm using my energy right now to try to experience all life has to offer. What I will do with my findings remains to be seen. Some call it a complete waste. Some call it admirable. I personally don't know what to think at this point. But by sharing a day with Don and Irene, I feel like maybe I'm inching closer to something good. Hearing their stories of meaningful moments from the past and witnessing their current days of being happy grandparents at play helps me understand priorities. Irene and I discussed that it's easy to be a dreamer when you're young, and after many years of life, she knows what's important.

'You just can't lose the focus in the middle,' she said.

When Don and Irene dropped us off on Route 7 yesterday, I wanted nothing more than to immediately pay their goodwill forward, and to continue down the road meeting new people - all ages, all classes, all ideologies - and share life with them. How we can have as much of an effect on people as they're having on us is our new Appalachian Trail - a new challenge we're not certain we know how to handle, but one we refuse to fail, even if we need some support along the way.

***

Irene and I exchanged kisses on the cheek. It made me miss my wonderful grandmas back in the Midwest. Then Don and I hugged goodbye. It made me wish I remembered my grandpas.

As the couple drove north toward home, Denny and I hiked south through the Berkshires. Only a few minutes passed by before the sky began to sprinkle. Then it turned to heavy rain. Eventually we had to take cover as hail beat down. We waited it out under a tiny park-information overhang with nothing else to do but reflect on the day. We didn't have anywhere particular to be. But we did have people to meet.

-BT

Good strangers go to heaven

2008-05-30T22:30:00.006-05:00

TYRINGHAM, MASS. – MAY 30 -- ‘You guys gettin’ in or what?’ Danny shouted out his car window. Ten minutes prior, we had given him directions using our map of Massachusetts, only to watch him take off in the opposite direction than the one we advised. Now, realizing we were right from the start, he passed by to give us a lift despite being late for a meeting with Bank of America. Even though the ride lasted only a couple miles, it was a great way to start the day after waking up in the woods at Walden Pond.

A half-day’s worth of walking had taken a toll on Brian’s left knee and right ankle. As we rested outside a small town convenience store, a man leisurely asked us if we’d like a lift as he strolled out of the store. Since a lawn mower, a hose, and some branches crowded the truck bed, we rode up front with Scott – a quiet, friendly local in his late 40s. He told us of a camping spot 10 miles down the road. We agreed that would be a good destination. ‘Here it is,’ Scott said. As he hung the right turn, his eyes widened. The campground had turned into a new subdivision since Scott’s last visit. As a consolation, he drove Brian and I to his hometown of Clinton, which was just fine with us since it was quite a ways west. We walked another eight miles and set up our tent near the banks of a reservoir. We had no idea the next day would bring us to the west side of Massachusetts.

***

The blister on the bottom of my left foot was intolerable after Brian and I began walking the next day. Although I’ve been opposed to blister-popping from the start, I went into CVS with the intention of picking up a few needles while Brian waited outside. I came out with a handful of safety pins and a new friend, Monica. The ride Monica ended up taking us on was the furthest by anyone thus far on the journey - around 50 miles. Monica donated granola bars and water to us as we parted ways. As Brian and I walked away, I had a smile on my face while I remembered the discussions in the car, ranging from the truth behind The Salem Witch Trials to her youngest daughter’s ‘Stranger Awareness’ lesson in school. Apparently her daughter came home one day extra fearful of anyone she didn’t know. Monica had to explain to her that there were good strangers and bad strangers. ‘Mom, do good strangers go to heaven?’ the daughter had asked.

Our spirits were high as we walked eight miles toward Amherst, the home of U-Mass. Staying only a couple hours, we were pleased to be moving on to North Hampton by the way of a free bus ride thanks to A.J. the driver. Being a small community, I stuck out with the big blue backpack strapped on my shoulders.

Meaghan, who had hitchhiked through Alaska a year ago, inquired about the pack and our matching t-shirts. After getting to know each other, Meaghan reached out to us by picking us up at our campsite, cooking us breakfast, and giving us a lift all the way to the Appalachian Trail - a destination we had planned to reach in the distant future.

The two days since waking at Walden Pond are a blur as people’s good will has rushed us through the state. We have yet to ask for anything out of anyone along the way with one exception – inquiring about the possibility of sleeping in a jail cell at a small-town police station. The answer was ‘No’ – unless we did something very illegal. We walked out, still stuck at Point A, in-need of place to lay our heads for the night. We took our time, stopping to chat with a man playing guitar on an outdoor staircase. We explained our project to him as he continued to ask questions. ‘Tell America hello for me,’ he said as we parted ways.
-DC

Life in the woods

2008-05-29T16:29:00.008-05:00

Travel and trust

2008-05-28T17:22:00.009-05:00

OAKDALE, MASS. - May 28 -- There are a few elements of this trip we didn't consider prior to our departure, like how difficult it would be to find a legal camping spot, and the fact that our bulky back packs would be such conversation starters.

After Nanci dropped us off a bit down the road so we could get off to a good start, Denny and I walked into Massachusetts, and into the town of Newburyport. The sun was shining, people were walking along the river, buying food and gifts from street vendors to celebrate the Memorial Day weekend. Denny and I took off our sweaty shoes and socks to relax and enjoy the festivities.

As we walked up and down the main street of the charming town, a family and their children stopped us to ask what was up with our big packs. Sometimes we choose to keep our mission low-key knowing it leads to a string of questions, but we were feeling chatty this day.

'We're walking across America,' Denny explained. Two minutes later, they forced us to order pizza, soft drinks, and potato chips on their tab.

'You really don't have to do this,' I exclaimed.

'Oh yes we do,' said Ann.

We joined their family, which included three children between the ages of five and ten, at a picnic table outside the cafe. The little ones and the adults asked questions about our journey as we continued to answer with our mouths full.

'I wish we could do something back for you,' I told them.

'You already have,' Ann said. 'Look at all the stories and knowledge you've given my children by just sitting here talking with them.'

That thought hadn't crossed my mind.

***

We waited outside a church in Newburyport for Amanda to pick us up. The teacher at Seacoast High - an alternative high school in Revere, Mass., had emailed earlier in the week to ask if we'd be interested in speaking to her students. We jumped at the opportunity, but were uncertain if navigating through Boston traffic on foot would be a wise idea. Amanda said she would meet us in Newburyport, give us a lift to her place in Somerville, and put us up for a couple nights.

A bed had never felt so comfortable, despite the fact I had to share it with another man. It was bigger than the tent by a few feet, and Denny and I have gotten used to keeping to our own sides, so I didn't even notice he was there. I slept 14 hours the first night. The next day we spent wandering around Harvard's campus in Cambridge. I got whooped in speed chess by an old-timer pro at Harvard square. It was an experience none-the-less.

The next day I was a bit nervous heading over to the high school. I wasn't sure how they'd react to us. We were told many of them rarely made it out of the Boston area and that Revere could be a bit of rough neighborhood, so I wasn't sure if our idea of travel and trusting everyone would go over so well.

We spent the entire day at Seacoast high, chatting with students, answering their questions that ranged from, 'Why are you doing this?' to 'Are you guys brothers?' We didn't hear the crickets chirp like we feared we might. The science teacher, Mr. Pappas, told tales of his days hitchhiking across the U.S. in 1969. He claimed he was the best hitchhiker in the world. After the stories he told, we believed him. When school was finished for the day, some students shook our hands and thanked us. One even asked if we'd be back tomorrow. I told him sorry, but we had to hit the road.

-BT

YOU ASK, WE ANSWER

2008-05-26T19:48:00.001-05:00

Good for the sole

2008-05-25T06:29:00.009-05:00

RYE BEACH, N.H. – May 25 – Never before had I heard a sound quite like the one a seashell makes when it gets obliterated by a lawn mower. The first time it happened, my bare feet left the earth as quick as the blades spun due to the piercing noise combined with visions of tiny debris firing toward my ankles. Shoes would have offered protection, but I lacked the courage to force them on that day since blisters had formed a colony on my feet as a result of the most walking I’d ever done in a three-day period. Perhaps it was foolish to take on this task, but I wanted to do something nice for Nanci. The feel of the soft, cool grass on my naked soles actually offered relief. Plus, I couldn’t pass up an opportunity to cut a lawn along an ocean.

I sang Jack Johnson songs to myself, which were drown out by the roar of the mower. I told Nanci I would happily help her check this chore off the list under one condition – she use her day away from the real estate office to relax. Read a book. Play piano. Something. Just no working. She smiled at me as I rounded the corner of the house, knowing she was busted as she continued to collect pieces of shell from the yard. I couldn’t argue with her when she said she just had to be outside on this perfect Memorial-Day-weekend afternoon, so I just smiled back. Besides, I think she was enjoying doing yard work as a team. She seemed very cheery, like she might even have been singing her own songs. I tried my best to avoid shattering any more shells. My rows in the grass were far from precise as I couldn’t help but gaze at the picturesque horseshoe beach at my side.

I pondered whether or not Denny and I should feel guilty for calling a $2.8 million, oceanfront house ‘home’ for a couple of days. We were still sleeping outdoors in the tent at night, but from the first morning on, we were allowed free range throughout the three-story home that Nanci shared with her sweet mother, Poppy, and her elusive brother, Marshall.

Had we not mingled with the lone woman walking her dog on Rye Beach two nights ago, who knows where we’d be at this point and what we’d be doing? I’m pretty confident we wouldn’t have woken up the next morning to a breakfast of cappuccino, fresh pineapple, bananas, toast, and scrambled eggs with cheese. And from the patterns of the tide we’ve watched out the window the last 48 hours, our idea to camp in the sand that fateful night would certainly have been the first major error of our journey. If Nanci hadn’t been so affable that evening, I’m pretty sure we wouldn’t have showered yet, and definitely not with cucumber-melon soap. ‘I thought you were tan, but I guess you were just dirty,’ Denny said as I dried off.

It seems much longer than two days ago that Denny and I awoke in the middle of a maze of trees in Maine after a restless night of wondering if we’d get caught because camping was not legal in that neck of the woods. The morning of the day we met Nanci, our stomachs growled since our last meal of uncooked beans failed to provide proper nutrition. Our mouths were dry and our main goal was to locate the closest clean-enough drinking water to fill our hydration packs. A few hours prior to peeing in a multi-million dollar home, I resorted to sh****g in the woods since there had been few signs of civilization for miles. The same evening our serendipity really kicked in, I had briefly contemplated following the folks I chatted with on the trolley ride into the homeless shelter they were heading for.

I’m not claiming we needed Nanci. Denny and I have been surviving well enough on our own, and had we been soaked by the rising tide two nights ago, we would have managed. But after pondering our present situation, do I feel guilty about it? Hell no.

When you leave yourself open to any and every experience, you deserve whatever lies on the road you’re traveling that day. Sometimes the road brings uncooked pinto beans. Sometimes it brings calamari. And a goal of this summer’s adventure is to taste all life has to offer. Just as much as we’re not trying to force anything to happen, we won’t avoid certain types of scenarios because they seem too good to be true. As long as our minds are open, each new experience, positive or negative, has value. We want to hang with the homeless as much as we want to mingle with millionaires. And we want to see all that lies in the middle because this is America.

I’ll admit that the fact I write this from a third-story balcony overlooking the Atlantic makes me wonder what people might think of our project so early in the game. But just like we seek no sympathy for the rough times we are to face along our journey, as long as we are appreciative of the good fortune that comes our way, we shall not regret any of it. And trust me, I can speak for Nanci that she is tired of the words ‘thank you’ by now. I suppose if I could change anything, I would push this experience closer to the middle of the summer, perhaps when we are desperate for a morale boost. But this adventure isn’t meant to be predictable. The randomness is what makes it unique. And who knows what the rest of the road might bring?

***

As she showed us a good area in the yard to pitch our tent the night we met, Nanci mentioned that her and Poppy had agreed to inform the police that we were camping in front of their house just to be safe. Denny and I nodded in acceptance, understanding that 20 minutes earlier we were complete strangers to our new friends. While learning about our trip, Poppy, a big fan of crime shows, said we shouldn’t trust anyone. ‘But you’re trusting us and we’re trusting you,’ I challenged. As I write this, 48 hours after arriving to Rye, I can hear Denny and Nanci on the floor below, talking away like old friends. We all laughed hysterically at the dinner table last night when the ladies admitted they actually never called the police that evening. In two days, we’ve warmed up to each other quicker than the sun warms our tent when it rises each morning. We’ve been able to sleep in a bit, because in front of Nanci and Poppy’s house, we know we are safe from prosecution.

Yesterday, I ran errands with Nanci while Denny was left with the house to himself. As I filled Nanci’s gas tank, she told me stories of her own spontaneous travels. As we drove to the post office to ship some unnecessary supplies back home, I told her all about my family back in Iowa. As we drove into the bank drive-thru, Zoe the rottweiler began to drool in the backseat. ‘Why is she so excited to be at the bank?’ I asked. ‘Because of this,’ Nanci replied as the teller sent over the transactions receipt along with a doggie biscuit. I got the pleasure of hand-feeding Zoe, who now seemed to be my friend as well. Nanci told Zoe she was a ‘good girl’ in French, which is Zoe’s first language. I have yet to get over this fact.

Denny and I volunteered to make dinner for everyone that night, but Nanci refused to drive us to the store, citing that it was too nice a day to spend shopping for groceries. Little did we know, that evening, Poppy was preparing a feast. I took photos of the sunset hitting the lilac bushes – New Hampshire’s state flower – while Denny helped Poppy grate cheese. The lilacs reminded me of the ones in my parents’ backyard. The cinnamon and sugar cappuccinos we drank in the morning made me think of Party Toast – a dinner my father used to make when I was younger. It was getting cozy here, and that’s why I knew we had to leave.

I overheard Denny and Poppy discussing the origins of the seafood we were having for dinner. Although Denny had never tried any of the dishes before, he did his best to seem excited. I heard Poppy express concern that we might not like it. The four of us spent the next two hours at the dinner table shoving the plethora of food in our mouths and talking the night away as Neil Diamond played in the background. No television, no awkward moments of silence. Just four new friends telling stories. Tears of laughter dripped when Poppy touched the tattoo on Denny’s ass. Tears of sorrow were nearly shed as tales of loved-ones lost were told. It didn’t matter where we came from, what we did for money, how old we were. We were simply people enjoying people. That was all that mattered. As Denny and I reached for seconds, Poppy smiled proudly to herself.

We’ve learned a lot since we’ve been in Rye Beach. Denny is now an expert cappuccino maker due to the guidance of Nanci. And we read all about the first direct ocean telecommunications cable between Europe and America because our tent happened to be placed directly on top of it. We even have a new nickname. In the five minutes we chatted with Marshall, he collectively coined us Brian Dennehy.

At first, Denny and I were helpless to help in any capacity. Nanci and Poppy would tell us that they were the ones who should be taking care of us since we were the guests. It was a challenge at first, figuring out how to keep the focus of our summer project. But Denny and I have gotten smart. Instead of asking if there is any way we can help out, we started telling them we were going to pitch in whether they liked it or not. We eventually resorted to taking them by surprise by doing small stuff like yard work and tidying the house. As we carried in groceries for Poppy yesterday, I heard her say, ‘It’s really nice having these two boys around.’

Last night Nanci said we should figure out what Denny and I were going to do today since she had to work 12-5.

‘Don’t worry, we’ll be leaving soon,’ I said. ‘We don’t want to outstay our welcome.’

‘No,’ Nanci replied straight-faced. ‘I don’t want you guys to leave while I’m gone. I’m going to be traumatized when you go. Plus, I was thinking you might as well stay another couple nights so you can see the Memorial-Day fireworks on Sunday night.’

At that moment, I forgot what gave Denny and I the impression in the first place that our society needed a band-aid. Weren’t we supposed to be the ones this summer helping people redeem their faith in one another? Maybe this whole time it’s been us in need of the redemption.

***

As much as Denny and I have gotten used to this place, Nanci and Poppy have gotten used to having us around. Nanci never had kids of her own, yet for the past two and a half days she’s been one heck of a mother figure. As we looked at the orange moon hovering over the ocean after dinner last night, I knew under normal circumstances I would be perfectly content staying a while longer. But when I jumped in the icy Atlantic this afternoon, I knew it would be the last time I would touch that ocean for a while.

We leave town in the morning, destined for Massachusetts. I’m ready for the road again. Our feet have healed for the most part. We’ve filled our bellies, soaked in a beautiful environment for two-and-a-half days, and hopefully brightened the lives of a couple people who not so long ago we could have called strangers. What we didn’t know when we began walking is how much our new friends across the country would effect our outlook on the life. As it turns out, we need people as much as people need us.
-BT

Losing weight

2008-05-25T06:22:00.005-05:00

We mailed home the following to lighten our packs by eight pounds:

-big video camera (we still have our digital)

-video tapes

-Henry David Thoreau's 'Walden' (848 pages)

Bad foot-age

2008-05-25T00:24:00.003-05:00

Rye tide and low tide

2008-05-23T15:15:00.008-05:00

RYE BEACH, N.H. – May 23 -- As I sat on the stone wall that protected our tent from the angry Atlantic, eating a day-old hazelnut pastry, I could not help but think it was a result of Brian waving down a red mini-van in Maine earlier that day. We started the day with hope of reaching New Hampshire by sunset. Anxious to focus on performing ‘random acts of kindness’, we started the day by chatting with a friendly mother who waited for the school bus with her two young boys. An unsuccessful attempt to help a middle-aged man chop wood was followed by Brian’s effort to help a man work on his car. People were reluctant to let us help out in any way, citing the fact they needed the exercise, yet conversations with locals resulting in small chuckles and smiley faces were enough to keep our spirits high. Our stomachs growled. We failed to see anything resembling a town and succumbed to making a couple packets of chicken-flavored Ramen noodles on the roadside.

Growing discouraged from seeing no signs of the New Hampshire border, Brian flagged down a mini-van. The driver informed us we were a 15-minute drive – which translates to a couple hours on foot. After a half-mile more of walking, we sensed a vehicle slowing to our side. Jessica, the mini-van driver, said she had felt bad about not offering us a ride earlier, so she wondered if we might be interested in a lift to the next state over. We accepted. The 23-year old even stopped to snap a photo of us under the ‘Welcome to New Hampshire’ sign. The three of us starting chatting like old college buddies as we headed for Dover. As we continued to warm up to each other, Jessica continued to take us further and further, going 15 minutes past her intended destination and all the way to the coast. Jessica thought it would be a funny idea if we brought the Subway sandwiches we grabbed to-go in an earlier town and ate them at our drop-off zone – another Subway in Portsmouth. The only thing she let us do for her was buy her a medium-sized fountain drink.

Eager to update the blog from the previous day’s events, we strolled into a coffee shop where an employee named Alexandra wrote down her and her friend’s phone numbers in case we needed a place to sleep. Their town was in the opposite direction we were heading, but we thanked her none-the-less. Leaving the coffee shop, we accepted free pastries that would have otherwise been thrown out that night. I couldn’t help but think of San Francisco when I saw the trolley outside the coffee shop. I was oblivious to Brian chatting with our future friend Wil. As Wil, a regular rider, gave us a hard time about paying a fifty-dollar fare, Mary, the driver, said since we were newcomers, the ride was free. Wil, an outgoing soul who already knew everyone else on the bus, asked us about the hydration packs. Overhearing the conversation, the man next to Brian said if he were walking, he’d fill the pack with Tanqueray. Wil really got into our project, lending great advice to us. ‘People are what matter in life,’ he said. ‘Not power, control, or money.’ This continued to soak into our brains as Mary wished us luck before we stepped off the trolley, on our way to sleep at Rye Beach.

After a three-mile walk to the beach, the sign that read, ‘Beach Closes at Midnight’ didn’t discourage us from our mission as much as a woman telling us there would be no way to escape the rising tide on the beach. We walked with our new friend, Nanci, and her French-taught, broccoli-eating, rabbit-chasing rottweiler. She graciously let us camp at her breach-front house just down the way.

The day, in its entirety, was Brian and I bouncing around like pinballs. The grape-sized blisters forming on my feet were of no concern as the waves crashing down in the background made it hard for me to fall asleep. I didn’t want the day to end.
-DC

Broke backs

2008-05-22T15:54:00.008-05:00

PORTSMOUTH, N.H. - May 22 -- It's a toss-up of what hurts worse, our feet or our backs. Yesterday morning we spent a few hours in a cozy beach town in Maine, chatting with some locals in a bagel shop. Word spread quickly that we were attempting to travel to the Pacific coast -- a peculiar conversation piece when you can see the Atlantic out the window.

Once everyone in the bagel shop knew our story, they treated us with great respect. When I asked to use the bathroom, the manager said, 'Of course', almost as if she was honored I would urinate in her facilities. One guy said he'd drive us all the way to California for $1,000. We laughed and declined. A curious woman with her kindergarten-aged daughter clinging by her side asked a handful of questions, very curious of our adventure. She then told little Sophie to hand these gentlemen a $20 bill and wish them good luck. We were flattered by the generosity, to say the least. I offered to take over one of the worker's jobs of washing the shop's windows. She laughed and said, 'Sure honey!'. She told her coworkers to look at what the kid in the cowboy hat was doing. "How sweet," I heard her say as I got down real low to reach the bottom of the glass, trying to hide how much this made my legs ache.

Then we walked, and walked and walked some more. We approached a few people out in their yards and asked if there was anything we could do to help them out. Most were kind yet seemed a bit skeptical of our intentions. Denny and I have been brainstorming better ways to approach future folks. The rain drizzled down, but nothing too threatening. As we walked through a construction site, the head of the team stopped us. We thought we were in trouble. He asked us with a smile what we were up to. 'Holy s**t,' he said. 'That reminds me of the time I went to motorcycle from the tip of Maine to the keys in Florida when I was your age.' Our eyes widened as we prepared to hear tales of adventure and greatness. He proceeded - 'Yeah, and then once I got to Portland, I said f**k it, and I turned right back around.' We parted ways with handshakes and laughter.

The highlight of the day - $2 cheeseburgers from a local shop in Saco. Food has never tasted more delicious. The lowlight - a pair of high school kids yelling 'Brokeback Mountain' out of the car window as they flew by us. We walked in silence for a few seconds until Denny opened his mouth - 'You're not....ya know.....?' He asked with an attempt at a serious face. We laughed hard and walked on, sore feet and broken backs.

We found a nice place to camp by a river and, for a second night in a row, fell asleep before sunset.

-BT

Day 1 - On track

2008-05-21T07:57:00.010-05:00

OLD ORCHARD BEACH, MAINE - MAY 21 -- I couldn’t help but think we were just like the kids from ‘Stand by Me’ as we headed south down the railroad tracks. I sang all the songs I could think of from the film, which included the title track, the one about the rollercoaster, and Lollypop - the one that calls for you to pop your thumb out of your mouth followed by buh-dum-dum-dum. Denny joined in on this part, helping finish out a series of butchered songs duet-style. We didn’t care how it sounded. There appeared to be no one around for miles.

I had always wanted to walk down railroad tracks, but it never seemed to be an acceptable thing to do in familiar territory. I associate it with exploration. So this was the perfect chance to try it for the first time since our new friends Tom and Lynn had just dropped us off at an endless row of tracks they promised would lead to the Eastern Trail, which would take us all the way to New Hampshire. They might as well have blindfolded us in the back of their black pickup truck filled with kayaks and other outdoor gear, because we had no feel for where we were going. After a little less than a 10-mile lift, we hopped out of the truck bed, studied Tom and Lynn’s map, shook hands, and thanked them for their generosity and for being the first friends we made on our adventure. As we began to forge on, Tom asked if we’d like a beer for the journey. We couldn’t say no. We walked along the tracks that ran parallel to the Atlantic, sipping our beers, oblivious to our aching feet and shoulders, nothing but smiles and some bad singing.

***

We were feeling independent, almost a bit too independent. It seems as simple of a task as any, to find a place to sleep, but it’s more intimidating than one might think as they lie in their cozy bedrooms at night. As the sun threatened to set on our first night as amateur outdoorsmen, I scanned the landscape for a good place to set up our tent. I could sense Denny was doing the same. We were also both listening for the whistle of a train, but none ever came. The sound of the ocean grew louder as we neared the edge of Maine. A few modest hotels and beach houses appeared to the left of the tracks. We eventually decided to walk intro the trees along a trail off to the right. The trail carved it’s way through a thick gathering of trees along a perfectly smooth lake where many geese called home. A few plastic chairs along the lake looked like they hadn’t been used since last summer. A bundle of blankets made us a bit skeptical as they screamed homeless person. But hey, who were we? We walked down the path until any sign of human life was nowhere to be seen. Denny cooked up a packet of Ramen noodles as I set up the tent – chores we agreed to trade off every other day. We were asleep before the sun set in our new summer home. Train whistles woke us throughout the night, but in between, the sounds of nature made us sleep like babies.

-BT

What we're walking with

2008-05-21T06:52:00.009-05:00

-tent

-2 sleeping bags

-2 hydration packs

-cooking burner

-2 ISO gas tanks

-10 packs of matches

-magnesium fire starter

-8 t-shirts

-3 pair of shorts

-2 pair jeans

-2 rain coats

-2 hooded sweatshirts

-4 pair of socks

-4 pair of underwear

-2 belts

-1 pair of shoes each

-Frisbee

-compass

-stocking cap

-2 bags of beans

-bag of brown rice

-8 packs of Ramen noodles

-deodorant

-2 toothbrushes

-toothpaste

-body spray

-toilet paper

-bug spray

-sun screen

-Denny's glasses

-Denny's contact stuff

-2 hats

-2 journals

-4 pens

-3 books

-video camera

-video tapes

-laptop

-digital camera

-wireless card

-chargers

-2 cell phones

-extra battery pack

-2 flashlights

-1 big-ass knife

-2 forks, 2 spoons, 2 butter knives

-atlas

-business cards

-4 bandannas

-first-aid kit

-3 trash bags/rain covers

-2 backpacks

-grandma's good luck charms

Thoughts on taking off

2008-05-19T23:28:00.007-05:00

THE ADVENTURE BEGINS MAY 20

2008-04-23T10:57:00.006-05:00