God bless you!

As you may know, I’ve left the actual “miles walked” tally up to others. It’s been enough to keep one foot in front of the other at times, although the amount of practice I’ve had for three weeks hasn’t forced me to think about walking all that much. Muscle memory is a powerful thing. I discovered today that there is one sure way to keep up a good pace at the end of the day: 35 mph winds at my back and a downhill path! The backpack got “caught” in the wind a few times and nearly blew me off course, but I tried to position myself so that the wind was directly at my back and forcing me forward. I did have a close call with a long-haul truck today as it was a little wind-blown. I jumped into a ditch, collided with some rocks, and one of them had the indecency to fall on my shin and cut a dime-sized piece of my skin off. Believe me, I’m being cautious. Some of you already know that I faint at the sight of blood, so I waited until I got to the car to see the damage. It’s to my advantage to see blood when I’m already sitting down (the fainting-fall is not so far!), but there wasn’t too much to worry about.

After three straight days at 13.1 miles, yesterday was 14.3 miles and today was 14.2. I was ready to head all the way to Humbug State Park, with the aid of the wind, but I’ll leave that extra half mile for the start of Friday. I should be finishing Friday’s walk at Ophir State Park and then there are only 8 more miles or so to Gold Beach. Then its 28 miles to Brookings and 5 miles to the border. I think Gold Beach is visible from near Humbug Mountain. The end is getting so close that I can almost taste it . . . but it tastes like salt in the air . . . and that may be more a natural phenomenon than anything else.

Bandon, Cape Blanco, Port Orford continue to ROCK! Here’s more evidence:

From Downtown Port Orford

(View While Eating Lunch Today!)

Battle Rock, Port Orford

Port Orford Bay

Port Orford Bay

Port Orford Beach

Port Orford Beach

Base of Humbug Mountain

Brush Creek, Humbug Mountain

　
I read a comment last night by the Irish Dominican priest Donagh O’Shea. It was a perfect prelude to today’s journey: “A rock is a single, consistent thing, but sand is billions of tiny rocks that have no connection with one another; they are like words that pour away, this way and that, according to the way the wind is blowing.” I have found over these weeks that silence makes me appreciate words all the more. But isn’t it true that we often use so many of them that it seems they really do just pour away? Someone once told me that extroverts talk “until they have something to say”, whereas introverts talk “when they have something to say.” I don’t intend that as a broadsided insult at extroverts, just a further comment on how much the silence of these days has made me deeply grateful for words, all of them and each of them.

The Sixes River

Elk River

While I have admitted that the actual “miles walked” number doesn’t concern me much, I have to admit that it was pretty awesome today to reach the State milepost that reads 300. Within a few minutes of passing the sign, a woman pulled her car over and said (through her window), “I saw you walking back in Coos Bay the other day. How far have you gone?” “Well,” I told her, “I’m not really keeping track, but, more or less, 300 miles.” She said, “That’s great. God bless you!” Clearly He has . . . and is.