mental health day in Moab

at the Utah border

We are three days into the Utah desert. Our route thus far has paralleled I-70, through the most barren and empty expanses we have seen yet. Far off in all directions, mountains and canyon walls loom beyond the empty vastness of dried grass and red stone sand. Other than some roaming antelope, a few snakes, and a massive contingent of hardworking ants and wasps, there is nothing out here. When we walk away from the road to camp, it is so quiet that my ears fill with the subtle ringing of frequencies that I can no longer hear, thanks to years of standing next to massive speakers. I wonder how solo hikers managed to cross this expanse – and at the same time, I yearn for their loneliness out here. Part of me wishes I could be alone with my thoughts, with nothing but space to keep me company.

this couple is biking from Calgary up in Canada, all the way to the Mexican border.

Our group has grown from just Kait and I and our two dogs, to now include Jon Slater, Old Brown dog, Jenny the cornfield stray, and now Rob, the Germanator. That’s eight bodies, all needing water and food and water to survive. Even with a support car, we are struggling to carry what we need to sustain our team of eight across the desert stretches of 50-100 miles between services. Back in West Virginia, Glen of the Fellowship told us that it never matters how big or small someone’s car is – it is the size of their heart that matters. If they want to pick you up and help you, they will find a way to fit you and all of your stuff in the car. When we picked up Jenny in Iowa, we found space in a full car. Then in Glenwood Springs, we found room for Rob and his backpack. Now, we need to find room for the food and water.

somewhere in the ghost town of Cisco, UT

I have been hearing tales of Moab for longer than I can remember. Every rock-climbing Jeep Wrangler owner knows – or at least pretends to know – of this magical wonderland called Moab. Our route takes us north of Moab, toward Green River, but yesterday we decided to take a detour. The drive down along the Colorado River was breathtaking. I have never seen such a beautiful place in all of my life. We marveled at the towering faces of red rock, and took a dip in the mighty Colorado.

The town of Moab is very tourist-oriented. The main drag is packed with nice restaurants, innumerable motels and hotels and RV campgrounds. Every building seems to have a sign advertising rafting adventures, guided hikes, and ATV canyon tours. Nestled in the canyon, this place has a powerful energy. Someone told me that the surrounding lands are some of the most photographed locations in the world, and I don’t doubt it. I would love to spend a year here, filming the play of light and color as the monoliths and castle peaks continue their slow and steady disintegration.

A Moab native gave us a tip and sent us to eat at Milt's, off the main tourist drag. Don't miss Milt's if you're ever in Moab!

We found ourselves at the Lazy Lizard Hostel, surrounded by fascinating folk – some who live here, and some who are just passing through. We showered and did laundry. We like those things. On into town, we hit Gearheads outfitters for some odds and ends and planned an all-out assault on the local grocery stores. Today, we democratically decided to take a mental health day. No visits, no errands, no walking. Life on the road is very stressful, and with eight independent minds living in close proximity in the great vast empty, a break and some free time is critical to keeping crimes of passion at a minimum. We may not make any miles today, but as long as the young dogs don’t wake Grace from her nap, nobody is going to eat anybody else.

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twice around the sun

On September 18th, Kait and I took a day off in Grand Junction to celebrate our two-year wedding anniversary.

September 18, 2010

In many ways, this walk has been a sort of strange extended honeymoon for us – we get to travel, spend time – a LOT of time – together, and sleep beside each other under the stars. It is also a true test of our relationship, and our commitment to our marriage, to each other, and to our lives in general. This walk is not something we could do without truly believing in it, and fighting through every doubt to keep walking side by side.

Before we left, Tyler warned us that traveling with other people can be…less than pleasant. When I told him that we had sleeping bags that could zip together, he cautioned that I might want to bring a separate tent. I didn’t say it to him at the time, but that was one of the most absurd pieces of advice that anyone ever gave me. Sure, the potential for Kait and I to get completely sick of each other was there – but our relationship is not a transient deal. The promises we made to one another on our wedding day are serious and long-lasting, and we have challenged ourselves to overcome any and all obstacles, disagreements, and petty frustrations that we encounter in our journey through life. So no matter what the days bring, no matter how frustrated we can get walking 5 feet from each other all day, every day, we still share our little home of a tent.

I don’t know what it is that has undermined marriage in our society. I think a lot of it boils down to communication – or a lack thereof. People seem so wrapped up in what others think that they become afraid of truly expressing themselves. Egos rage and boil under the surface, and small problems that could be easily managed with a simple – albeit difficult – conversation end up tearing a couple apart from the inside. But out here, we don’t have the time and space and backhanded luxury of letting our petty arguments fester and grow in silence – so we talk. We work through everything together. You can slam a door, but you can’t slam a zipper. If we have a disagreement (which we do, pretty much every day) we talk it out. It doesn’t matter if the argument is large or small, important or insignificant – we talk about it. It isn’t always pleasant, and it’s rarely easy. But marriage is not supposed to be a free ride – it takes hard work, and understanding, and compromise.

Back when we left the trail to go home for Kait’s grandmother’s funeral, she got a chance to spend some time with her father, Tom. Tom’s a smart cat – he is self-educated, honest,  and very hardworking. While they were talking, Kait said, “I hope you can see the value in what we are doing.” and Tom’s response blew us both away. He talked about how many newlywed couples dive right into the daily grind, off to work and rarely spending time together, and cruising right into having kids without ever really spending time just being married. But we have done quite the opposite. We have chosen to spend the better part of a year side by side, facing constant challenges and stress together. We have the time to talk, the time to explore each other, and the opportunity to face great obstacles as a team. He said that this walk was one of the most valuable investments that we could possibly make in our relationship. Like I said, Tom’s a smart cat.

Many days are difficult. We disagree a lot. We realize how young and flawed we are, and that there is a lot of work to be done if we will stand the test of time together. At the end of every long day, we are married and in love and committed to the life’s work that is our marriage. This walk is a challenge on every level – emotionally, mentally, physically. But most importantly, this walk is a direct challenge to our commitment. If we can fight through this together – and love each other more and more every day because of it – then we can handle anything.

Here’s to every future step, and to many, many more miles together.

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Welcome to Utah

We finally reached the Utah border today. Everything west of Fruita, CO looks like pretty legit desert. Very tired. 80 miles to Green River.

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wrong turns on the way to Grand Junction

We followed the Colorado River through winding valleys, always west and down. Since 6 and I-70 join together past De Beque, CO, we had to find an alternate route toward Grand Junction. We walked south on highway 65, toward Mesa, between beautiful plateaus and weathered rock formations.

Halfway to Mesa, an old cowboy named Rod stopped to see what we were doing. He raised an eyebrow when we showed him what road we planned to take from Mesa toward Grand Junction and cautioned that, while he hadn’t lived there for very long, he didn’t know of a road that would go through across the plateau. But our only other option was to take 65 back toward I-70, where we would dead end in the narrow canyon with no roads to walk for several miles. We shrugged and decided to trust Google Maps, which showed County Road 47 1/2 going all the way across the plateau. Onward we walked, past Mesa and up toward the plateau.

that awkward moment when you realize you just spent half a day walking the wrong way.

After climbing 1000′ and walking five miles, we sat down at a dead end to figure out what to do. We don’t usually walk across clearly marked private property – especially during hunting season. After some deliberation, we piled into the car and backtracked to Rod’s place, at the junction of highway 65. The next day, we started walking from Rod’s place toward I-70. When we finally reached the river and ran out of frontage roads, we drove ahead to the next possible path. While we pride ourselves in not skipping any miles, we had run out of options. Since we walked five extra miles the day before, we figured a 4-5 mile jump through the narrow, un-walkable canyon was a fair solution. We walked through Palisade and Clifton, past wineries and orchards, to Grand Junction.

It is hard to believe that we are already in Grand Junction, the last big stop before we leave Colorado and head west into Utah. We headed to the Grand Junction KOA campground to rest and get cleaned up. We love staying at KOA campgrounds whenever we can – they are always affordable, clean, and hospitable. The staff at the Grand Junction KOA even let us stay for free! We took showers, did laundry, charged our phones, and were ready the next morning to head over to the Grand Junction VA Medical Center for a Therapy Visit.

at the Veteran's facility

Robin Maddox from volunteer services met us, and introduced us to the wonderful staff. We walked the halls of their long-term care unit, talking about the benefits of having an established pet therapy program and meeting with dog-loving veterans. Near the end of our visit, we met a man named Fred. Fred is 92, spent 22 years in the Air Force, and was a joy to meet. Max and Grace climbed into bed with him for some cuddles while Kait and I soaked up Fred’s stories and enthusiasm for his life and travels.

the dogs in bed with Fred

Fred has lived all over the world, and understands our wanderlust. He seemed truly inspired and happy that we have taken the time to travel and really see our country. Meeting Fred really inspired us. There was a great deal of mutual respect in his room, and we left feeling like we had made a good friend in Fred. There is a bright spark of enthusiasm and joy in his eyes. I hope he publishes all the books he talked about writing, so that I can read them someday.

thanks for the stories, Fred.

From here, we walk west through Fruita and into Utah. We have heard many things about Utah – some good, some not-so-good. either way, we are stoked. This is the beginning of the end of this walk. Time to get serious.

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down and to the West

So much is happening! But there is so little time to write and shuffle through photos and type on tiny keyboards.

From Vail Pass (about 10,600′ above sea level) we walked down and down and down into the Vail valley, world-famous for its unparalleled ski slopes and backcountry trails.

inside the Vail City Market.

As Kait and I made our way down the frontage road alongside I-70, a jogger came working his way up the valley. As he approached, we watched him read the sign on the front of our pushcart. He smiled wide and looked at us, and started clapping. “Great job, keep going!” -and he was gone, pushing up and past us. It was such a genuine and spontaneous show of support, and we were beaming all the way down the valley. Just before the frontage road ended and turned into a bike path, a woman walked out of her house, apparently looking for us. Her husband – the jogger – had called her and told her to go outside and look for us. She gave us delicious beet muffins (made with produce grown in the Vail community garden) and as we were talking the jogger came jogging back. After filling them in on what we are doing, they wished us luck and offered to let us stay in their home if we needed a place for the night. We did. They fed us (very, very well) and treated us like family, while our ridiculous pack of dogs played with their good boy, Goose. They told us to come back if we ever pass through Vail again.

Luke, Marion, and Goose.

And down and down we walked forever, Passing through Edward and Eagle-Vail and Avon, dropping down toward 6000′. We stopped and gave an interview to the Vail Daily, and at lunch at the dog-friendly farmer’s market In Edwards. We walked further down, into Gypsum, where we met The Brettas – Kelly and Derrick, and their daughter, Sarah. Kelly had seen us walking, and then passed us again – I saw her scrutinize our sign as she drove by. When we walked by her driveway, she was waiting with Sarah to see what we were up to. We hung out with them in their backyard (they have a trampoline suspended over their little creek) and the dogs romped with their pup, Cici.

I want one of these.

They talked us into coming back for Antelope tenderloin that night, and Derrick and Sarah joined us for the last 8 miles of our walk that day. Along the way, Derrick told us stories about hiking and hunting, and the geography and geology of the breathtaking landscape.

Derrick, Sarah, and Kait.

First time we actually got to push a person in the pushcart!

We stopped just shy of the Colorado River, and returned to their house for the night. The antelope was delicious. I want to eat a lot more of it, so I will have to learn to hunt. They also have an outside shower in their secluded backyard. Kait described her experience as “lifechanging.”

the outside shower. It was cold, if you ask me.

We moved on in the morning and followed the Colorado River through Glenwood Canyon, which turned out to be some of the most beautiful 17 miles we have walked on this entire beautiful walk. The Colorado River carved this canyon out, leaving behind towering walls of rock and sandy soil, layer upon layer slowly sculpted by water and wind and time.

Glenwood Canyon

I feel silly using these cameraphone filters, but this is exactly what this rock looked like.

The ancient canyon walls crumbled their slow crumble above us as we followed the curving river on a paved bike path, weaving back and forth underneath I-70. Even the Interstate itself was a breathtaking part of the environment – a smooth, supple line of best fit across the winding canyon floor, with a flowing rush to match the gentle roar of the Colorado.

underneath I-70

We followed the bike path all the way to the far end of the canyon, where Glenwood Springs rests in a valley. Max braved the mighty Colorado, not once, but three times, to cool off and chase sticks. He’s my hero. We love traveling with moving water. The flow connects us to our surroundings in such an immersive way – the sounds and smells, the utility and comfort of a river. Kait and I want to kayak down the Colorado someday. We think it would be fun.

We reached Glenwood Springs and, with no budget to stay at the natural hot springs spa and hotel, we found our way to the Glenwood Springs Hostel. The owner put us up for half price, and led the way through the mazelike house, through a courtyard and into a completely different mazelike house, where we eventually found our clean, tiny (but half price!) room. It was my first time in a hostel, and I wish I hadn’t been so wiped out. The house was full of interesting people, and I wanted to meet them and cook breakfast with them and do dishes with them, but I was too tired. Kait passed out post haste. Jon and I met a hiker named Rob, who took an interest in our project. In the half-lidded stupor of half past hiker’s midnight, he expressed and interest in joining us on our walk – at least as far as Grand Junction. We all slept on it.

In the morning we headed to Creekside Assisted Living with the dogs. It was our first therapy visit since leaving Denver, and it was an easy visit with a small group of residents. The people who live there were hospitable and really soaked up the dogs. It was a quiet morning – the power was out, and it was raining a little, and they said our visit really brightened their day.

hard at work at Creekside Assisted Living

We stopped back by the hostel on our way out of town to pick up Rob – I’ll tell you about him later – and picked up walking along a gnarly stretch of grass and shrubs outside of the guardrail of I-70. In the rain. It was fun. The Colorado flowed on and on below us – frothy and rough because of the low water level this year – while we picked our way along a fairly well-traveled footpath through the foliage. The mountains started to spread apart, and as the valley widened it filled up with beautiful farms and horse ranches, great swaths of green between the red cliffs and peaks.

The last few days have been a blur. Through New Castle and Silt, we walked along the river valley to Rifle. We camped outside of the city, and in the morning we spruced up and went to the Colorado State Veteran’s Home for a therapy visit. The staff are really sweet, and they led us around to common areas and rooms to meet the residents. Many strong handshakes and belly rubs were exchanged. One man was in his room, listening to old radio shows on cassettes. He greeted us kindly and went to work petting the dogs, asking questions about them and about our walk. When we got up to move on to the next room, said, “Thank You for coming, you really made my day.” and that made my day.

at the Rifle VA.

Things are definitely starting to look much more…Western. The shapes of the hillsides, and mountains in the distance, the very rock that forms the monoliths is changing in texture and color. As the mountains morph into canyons, the changes in line and nuance of the peaks ridgelines, silhouetted against the multicolored sky, makes me want to trace them all in ink. I will make time, sometime.

even out here, our support car looks weird.

We are a few short days from Grand Junction, where we have a therapy visit scheduled at the VA Center. From there, we will head into Utah and start to cut southwest toward Las Vegas. We need to look at the map.

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cosmic healing ’round the campfire

A fun thing happened: Kait’s cousin, Alison, came to find us on the road.

Alison has been living a wild sort of life for the last several years: Everything she owns fits in her truck, and she has been moving every four months for seasonal jobs, living far and wide in Alaska, Idaho, Montana, Colorado – wherever the wind and work takes her. Her lifestyle is challenging, but it has afforded her opportunities rarely glimpsed by most people – living with the seasons, learning to survive on wit and will, and embracing the peace and solitude and quiet happiness that one can only find hidden away behind lonely mountains and along unmanned streams.

Allison and her girlfriend, Molly, are uprooting from Colorado to chase exciting opportunities in New Mexico. Alison is a chef – among many other things – and Molly is a butcher by trade. Together, they are hoping to slice and chop their way to healthy, conscious eats for people who care about what they are putting in their bodies. Between them, they have a great deal of experience in the backcountry – fishing for their dinner, pulling their drinking water right from the streams that flow cold and fast down through every valley in this Great State. Alison and Molly came to meet up with us before heading south, and it was a rustic adventure from the first moment.

Allison and Molly brought their two dogs to the walk for a few days. Dog Parade!

For the few nights we spent with them, we got a taste of how good the nomadic life can be. We followed them caravan-style up miles of unmaintained, rutted dirt roads. Up and back, away from all of the people, away from paid camping, away from plumbed toilets and hot water, we followed them. We camped in a place so isolated, Kait wondered aloud, “Are we OK camping up here?” to which they replied, “Oh, we do this all the time.”

Alison even joined us on the day we took Vail Pass. She walked 20 miles with us, up and DOWN – a lot of down – without so much as a break. Alison is the first person to walk a full day with us, and she crushed it. We were all ached and tired and ready for campfires by the time we wrapped for the day.

Kait and Allison, walking down into Vail.

Always, we return to the fire ring. Through our sweatlodge of a summer, we made very few fires. Even when we camped, we only used our cooking stove for heating food. But we crossed the line from looking at the mountains to being IN the mountains, and overnight the temperatures dropped. At these elevations – 8,000′ and up – wild temperature swings and sudden shifts in weather are the norm. The sun is twice as hot and damaging to our skin up here as it was down on the plains It heats the afternoons to sweltering degrees, before it dips down in the evening and our heat disappears through the thin Rocky atmosphere. The nights have been cold, frosty, and even a little wet. And so we find ourselves here again, sitting around a fire, feeding it and thanking it for warmth, and comfort, and hot food.

As quick as they came, Alison and Molly were back on the road – and so were we. It is always good to find family and new friends along the road, and Alison’s no-hold-barred approach to her life is entrancing. She tells horror stories of living without the creature comforts, out at the mercy of the wild beasts of the night. But make no mistake – she has found a freedom that we can only dream of, wrapped up in our romantic ideas of the adventurous life. Mortgages, bills, homes entombed with a lifetime of unecessary products – that is not freedom. Freedom is catching your dinner with your bare hands, and sleeping under a ceiling of stars.

Our walking path has taken us through ski resorts for the last week. Up here, there aren’t a lot of children’s homes or hospitals – just ski slopes, pricey food, and nice people. But we are finally coming down, from 10,000’+ Vail Pass, down below 8,000′ for the first time since Idaho Springs. Our path is taking us through some more populated areas, and we are planning out our next set of Therapy Visits. In the next few days, we will pass through Eagle and Gypsum, and on Monday we should reach Glenwood Springs. We hear good things about Springs.

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the great divide

Today, we walked the last 1000′ up and over the Continental Divide, at Loveland Pass. We have been climbing and climbing since we got into Colorado, and now we are UP here. Up past the high Christmas tree forests, up above the treeline, up where the air gets quiet and thin. The Divide is a hydrological divide (wikipedia for the win) that separates water systems that drain towards the Atlantic ad those that drain toward the Pacific. From here on out, everything flows West.

My legs are sore and I feel awesome. I don’t have a lot of words for this. I’ll just let the pictures do the talking.

US Route 6. Steep.

no big deal.

The team at the top. Fun Fact: Grace did NOT walk up the Divide. She just hopped out of the car at the top and took a nap.

Jenny is made of wiggles.

on the way down, we took a shortcut through the most beautiful landscape. If you look very closely, you can see Kait wearing orange, and a spronging Jenny.

Leading us to the Pacific.

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The Dog Walk Needs YOUR Help!

Dearest readers,

If you have been following our story, you already know that our walk has been a great success. We have uplifted and inspired people across the country, and brought our dogs to people in need of their unconditional loves and waggles. We have been blessed and watched over by our human family, and we WILL reach the Pacific – there is no doubt in my mind.

This project has been funded by our own savings, as well as the many generous people who have helped us with meals, places to sleep, donations, and spreading the word about our cause. But despite our success, we are quickly running out of money.

That is why we have launched a crowdfunding campaign on IndieGoGo.com. Our goal is to raise enough money to cover the remaining expense to get us through the last 3 months of this journey. We know that we will continue to meet generous people along the way. Reaching our funding goal will allow us to actually raise a surplus of funds, which we will donate to Pawsibilities Unleashed to support their mission of getting working dogs to the people who need them, and our favorite No-Kill animal rescue, Camelot Puppy Sanctuary.

The only way our campaign will gain traction and get wider exposure is if we can build some momentum through donations, comments, and people spreading the word far and wide. That is why we need YOU – the friends, family, and strangers who already know about us – to help get this campaign going.

We hate money. We hate worrying about it, and we REALLY hate asking for it. But this is the deal: If you believe that our walk is valuable, that our work to raise awareness for pet therapy and animal rescue has a positive impact and is worth supporting, please donate what you can today. Even if you have already donated (thank you!) or aren’t able to right now, please post a link everywhere you can, email all your co-workers – just help us spread the word.

We feel so passionate about the Walk and our mission, but we couldn’t have made it this far without you. Thank you for reading, for caring, for moving over when you pass us on the street, for waving and smiling, for letting us into your homes and communities, and for supporting this project.

Click the link below to visit our campaign:
Help Fund the Dog Walk!

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photo courtesy of Erin Furman

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rocky mountain high

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After a week of staring down the imposing wall of the front range, I can’t help but imagine what we must have looked like from miles away: Tiny little ants, disappearing into a nearly invisible fold in the endless rock. But that invisible fold – that from 10 miles out looked so much like an impermeable, solid face – it grew with every step, widening until we were swallowed and quite suddenly surrounded, engulfed in the mountains.

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Clear Creek Canyon

After months of mental flatland, my mind recoiled in awe and briefly panicked – locked up, like trying to take the first tight, spasmodic breaths after jumping into cold water – “Oh my god, i’m surrounded. I can’t see the horizon, can’t read the clouds in the sky. Trapped.”

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But the claustrophobia was gone, just as fast as it came, and I felt my senses become seduced by the timeless flow of stone and water. I always get nostalgic when I see millions of years of history – the heaving and flowing and settling of the earth – laid out like a storybook in front of me. Remembering just how small and young we are should keep us humble.

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We followed Clear Creek Canyon as the creek bed slowly climbed 2000 feet out of Golden, toward Idaho Springs. The weather flowed from hot and sunny to cold and rainy, back to sun, and then settled into a cold mist for the evening.

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We came upon a construction zone, and the worker at the gate told us we would have to take their shuttle to get across. We weren’t happy about it, but there wasn’t another route. While we waited for the shuttle, he told us that they had shuttled at least 3 cross-country trekkers in the past two days – some heading west, some heading east. We have tracked down a couple of websites,  and will post more if we find them:

James Is Walking.com

Rae is running

We camped the night free of charge at the Indian Hot Springs in Idaho Springs, and trekked to Georgetown the next day.

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onward and upward

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looking into Georgetown

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searching for bighorn sheep

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We piled into the car for a detour up to Kait’s uncle Paul’s house, outside of Tabernash. We stayed with Paul years ago on a cross-country haul, but barely had time to say hello. This visit, we made time.

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kait and uncle paul. and dogs.

Paul is an excellent host, a handy mountain bear, and an awesome chef. We caught up over fine foods and physical labor, while Kait and I took advantage of the day to breathe a lot and acclimate to the 9500′ elevation.

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paul's ski museum

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kait gets minor foot surgery. did i mention that paul is a podiatrist?

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high up.

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quality time in paul's cabin. he lived here for 12 years before he built his house.

We are walking out of Georgetown today, and tomorrow we will take Loveland Pass – our 12,000′ path across the Continental Divide. Deep breath.

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the front range

We are standing at the feet of giants.

This landscape is truly surreal and hard to process. As we walked into Boulder, the long line of the range slowly morphed and shifted, as different peaks and slopes and features grew out of the distance. Further into the city, the mountains closed in on us, surrounding us one three sides. We stayed with an old college friend, Matt, who lives in an awesome house at the base of the Flatirons.

a nice step up from a tent

the Team in the backyard.

There is nothing like spending time with old friends, and people our own age. We hung out with Matt and his roommates, and marveled at how much we have all grown as people over the last few years. Things just keep flowing right along, and sometimes it can be hard to keep up.

A piece of Daniel's art, left for our good friend Matt.

After sleeping a night up on the slope, overlooking Boulder, we drove up to Fort Collins for the weekend to stay with Kevin. Over a year ago, I met a veteran named Kevin on reddit.com while he was doing a Q&A about his experiences in Iraq and the impact that the war had on him. I asked him whether he had come across any Pet Therapy programs during his time with the VA, and although the answer was “no” we struck up a discussion about the significance of dogs in coping with PTSD. I told him about the walk and we kept in touch, all the way until we arrived at his front door.

Kevin, Chad, and Kenny-Bear

Kevin and his roommate and close friend, Chad, were remarkable hosts. Kevin knows how to eat to maintain a high activity level, and he wasn’t shy about feeding us bowls of bacon and endless snacks. For a couple of precious days, we had a chance to just sit on a couch and be normal people. The dogs all mingled while we worked on press outreach, site maintenance (we finally updated the About the Walk and Meet the Team pages) and the ever-troublesome issue of fundraising.

Sitting in Kevin’s backyard in the shade, he told me about his experiences coming home from Iraq. Although he now knows that he was suffering from PTSD as early as 2004, he went undiagnosed for several years while his life spiraled out of control. He described PTSD as a numbness, but also a sort of mental pattern where he would get wound up, tighter and tighter in thought, and lash out uncontrollably. Interacting with people – even his own family – became more and more of a challenge as he felt alienated and “wrapped around the axle.”

Kevin hit a breaking point when he lost three friends (who had served with him in Iraq) to suicide. Not long after those deaths, his long-time friend Alan Lewis died tragically while trying to save his dog in the backcountry. Overwhelmed, Kevin drove north and reconnected with his old friend, Chad, who hadn’t known the new and troubled Kevin. “I used to be laid back, and then I wasn’t.”

With Chad’s support, Kevin started working toward his recovery. In 2010, Kevin decided to adopt a dog (“I felt like I needed a dog”) so he went to Petfinder.com and found Kenny. When he adopted him, Kenny was terrified of people. His fear was paralyzing, but with Kevin’s patience and understanding he began to work through it. Kevin said that he could relate to Kenny’s reactions to certain situations, because he reacted much the same way. Today, I would have never guessed that Kenny had any trouble with people. He is a very sweet and goofy dog, and whatever Kevin has been doing is working because he made friends with all of us.

Out of Kevin’s tragedies and hardships, he has found a drive to put his energy and passion into philanthropy. In honor of his late friend, Alan, he created the David Alan Lewis Foundation which is working to establish a scholarship fund in Alan’s name. Inspired by Alan’s desire to make the world a better place, Kevin created AlanFest, a music festival whose proceeds will support the scholarship fund. In their first year they managed to break even, and have been networking and building and growing for their second year.

Kevin and Chad are also involved in a program through the VA called the Caregiver Program. The Caregiver Program provides support and resources to people who provide care for disabled veterans – often friends and family. Chad and Kevin have been friends since high school, and Chad has a background in wilderness therapy and counseling which lends itself well to managing the stress of PTSD. He is a constant touchstone, a source of moral support for someone in need. Thanks to VA resources, Chad is able to be a support system for Kevin and be compensated for the the time he chooses to spend looking out for his friend.

dog party everywhere we go.

All too soon, we had to leave again. Getting to meet Kevin in person was inspiring. Our mutual drive to leave a positive mark on the world and look out for our fellow person brought us together, and it will keep us communicating and collaborating. I know we will be crossing paths with these wonderful people (and their dogs) again someday.

Just before we left Fort Collins, we got in touch with Bryan Simpson from New Belgium Brewing. Despite coming off a 9-day stretch of 14-hour days and traveling, Bryan invited us to the brewery to hear about our story and give us a tour.

Bryan and some dogs

Fat Tire has long held a special place in my heart, and touring their brewery was like visiting the Chocolate Factory of beer. Bryan told us all about this worker-owned, wind-powered craft brew company while we walked thorough the brewery, sipping samples and gawking at the pipes and shiny cylinders. New Belgium takes very good care of its employees, and the whole team has a very progressive mentality about their business. They work to minimize their waste and carbon footprint at every turn, including collecting and treating their own wastewater and capturing methane produced by the brewing process. Behind the bar in their tasting room, in big friendly letters, the cooler doors say “Get Philanthropic.”

part of the New Belgium motto, tiled into the brewery floor.

At the end of it all, we couldn’t thank Bryan enough for taking the time to lead us around and share the New Belgium passion with us. He sent us on our way with a case of beer and big dreams.

Onward, back down through Boulder, past a failed mail drop (got it sorted out later) and back to the walking. 20 miles from Boulder to Golden – just outside the West edge of Denver. And a driving detour into Denver – tiny little downtown surrounded by monumental sprawl, piled up against the Front Range and spilling back and back East, filling the spaces between the places. My sense of direction is shot in this city – unless I can glimpse the mountains to the West.

Kait getting interviewed by Meave from KGNU Public Radio

We had a wonderful visit at the Denver Children’s Home. Outside on the playground, we got to talk to the kids about Pet Therapy, our walk, and the importance of community service. Several of the kids asked a lot of questions, and we got to talk to a lot of them later as we made our rounds through their dorms. As always, we loved this visit. Something about hanging out with kids and watching the dogs light them up just leaves us smiling. Before we left, one of the classes presented us with a Bacon Quiche made in our honor. We devoured it in front of the Executive Director while we talked about the benefits of regular pet therapy visits.

Kait and the dogs with Lindsey Leuthold and Executive Director Rebecca Hea.

Jenny is still learning a cuddle. she does it like this.

Unfortunately, our scheduled visit at the Denver VA hospital fell through. We did our best to make it happen, but poor scheduling and neverending phone tag got the best of us. We spent the entire day running errands in city traffic, crawling and weaving in car-like fashion back and forth across this beastly sprawl. Our host tonight, Joe, helped us with some much-needed maintenance and repairs of Bob Todd, our trusty pushcart. Did I mention the handlebar snapped? It did. Yesterday. But Joe fixed it! Thank you Joe! We were up too late last night, talking and carrying on with Joe and his roommate, Jan. And now I’m up too late doing this. In five hours we re-pack the car and return to Golden, to resume our trek into the Rockies. It’s been a good week on the Front Range, but now it’s time to climb to the sky.

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