Land of the Free, Part III

Land of the Free, Part I
Land of the Free, Part II

Even though I have already provided sufficient evidence to support my position that Corporal Chadd was legally obligated to cease contact with me once I'd refused to identify myself, I'm still nowhere near the end of this story, simply because Corporal Chadd repeatedly chose to disregard the law.

Why wouldn't he just leave me alone? Even while this was happening, I was 99 percent certain there was nothing unlawful about my refusal to cooperate, particularly because I'd been through similar incidents with dozens of other cops in almost every state from California to Illinois.

As much as cops don't like being told what to do, almost all cops back off a little once they realize you know your rights and you're not going to let them strip you of your rights. Even then, they still lie to you and continue trying to intimidate you into playing their game. But when they run into someone like myself, who absolutely refuses to compromise, they eventually realize they're not going to get their way. At this point they give you a little more tough-guy attitude before they finally leave.

Could it be that the rules regarding this Indiana incident aren't quite as black and white as the words that make up the rules? If so, then I'm determined to figure it out and better understand why Corporal Chadd continued to treat me like a worthless criminal who has no rights and deserves no rights.

So let's look at this incident from some new angles.

According to the Indiana statute I cited in Part II, regarding detention: If Corporal Chadd did not already suspect, in good faith, that I'd committed an offense prior to his request for my identification, then I had no legal obligation to identify myself. Even if he did suspect that I'd committed an offense, if he failed to inform me of the suspected violation, I still had no legal obligation to identify myself. However, if Corporal Chadd suspected, in good faith, that I had committed an offense even as petty as jaywalking, all he had to do was inform me of his suspicion, at which time I would have been obligated to identify myself to him.

But he didn't suspect that I had committed an offense, which is why he didn't inform me that he suspected I had committed an offense, nor did he allude to any such suspicion in his arrest report. This means Corporal Chadd had no legal grounds to obtain my identification, address, birthdate, driver's license, or anything else I possessed, which also means it was not an offense for me to refuse to identify myself.

Regarding the charge of Refusal to Identify Self: I have never denied that I refused to identify myself to Corporal Chadd. In fact, I most certainly did refuse to identify myself because I already knew the law says I don't have to identify myself to a cop who has no justification to ask me for identification. It's that simple, and this paragraph is all I really needed to write about it.


* * * * *
Here's yet another angle that explains why this confrontation should have ended as soon as I refused to provide identification:

Since Corporal Chadd did not charge me with a violation that would have required me to identify myself, he established that he legally had no business with me. He knew I hadn't broken any laws, and he knew he was legally obligated to respect my Fourth Amendment protection against unreasonable search and seizure, which I first invoked when I refused to provide identification.

At the same time that I refused to provide identification, I also stopped volunteering any other information, which is an act protected by my Fifth Amendment right not to incriminate myself.

As a long-time veteran of the Sheriff's department, Corporal Chadd understood that his only legal option was to leave me alone, which, according to his own report, I had already requested. But he still chose not to leave me alone.

Unlike my encounter with the prison guard half an hour earlier, I remained calm during my encounter with Corporal Chadd, and I mostly didn't even talk. I didn't raise my voice or use profanity, even though the First Amendment of the United States Constitution gave me the right to tell Corporal Chadd to go fuck himself if I had felt so inclined.

In case you've wondered: Yes, I have often taken advantage of my First Amendment right to tell cops to go fuck themselves. Having been harassed by so many cops in so many places, particularly during the walk, I figured out their game a long time before I set foot in Indiana. And regardless of the fact that I have occasionally reacted in a belligerent manner toward cops who harass me, I've always walked away without being cited or detained because, unlike Jon Chadd, most cops respect the fact that they must obey the rules that apply to them, even if they don't like it.


* * * * *
I had never been arrested before the incident with Corporal Chadd. I'm not just talking about during the walk; I'm saying I had never been arrested in my life. So now that you know that, surely you think I'm unbelievably stupid for refusing to cooperate with cops, when all I had to do was give them my ID and just wait for them to find out that I'm not a criminal so I could move on without incident.

There's a lot more to it than that.

During the walk, I had to deal with unwarranted police stops every few days, on average. For the first 1,500 miles or so, I almost always cooperated and showed cops my ID whenever they asked for it. But even though I cooperated, I had grown very tired of cops interfering with my freedom all the time, for no reason other than they are very bad profilers.

In Kansas, the frequency of these unwarranted police stops skyrocketed to almost once a day--sometimes even more than once a day--and it finally pushed me past my limit. These police stops stressed me out, and each stop held me back at least a mile, while also keeping me from getting the rest I needed. So about halfway across Kansas, totally fed up with constantly being treated like a criminal by moron cops, I resolved not to let it happen anymore.

If a cop stopped to make sure I was all right, that was fine. I had no problem talking to him, even if it turned into a long chat that subsequently made it more difficult for me to hit my daily mileage goals.

But that's not how it usually went down when cops stopped me. Usually it would begin with the cop asking me a few questions to get a feel for who I am, which I happily answered (just as I did with Corporal Chadd). But after these initial few questions, they would ask me for my identification, which to me is the same as saying:

"We're just going to assume you're a criminal for now, OK, even though you've given us plenty of reason to believe you're not a criminal. We're also going to assume you're too stupid to know your rights because, I mean, you're carrying a backpack, and everyone knows what that means. So, um, why don't you just stand there carrying that heavy backpack out in the hot sun for another 10 or 15 minutes while we hold you up and keep wasting your time?"

So what do you think happened when I cooperated? Yup, I got to stand there in the hot sun, carrying my very heavy backpack for another 10 or 15 minutes. As you suspected, my cooperation ALWAYS led to them finding out what should have been obvious: that I had no warrants and I'd never been arrested.

Don't even hit me with the "But they didn't know" argument here. I established a long time ago that the law says they don't always get to know.

So let me ask you a question (especially those of you who have led a clean enough life to have never been arrested): Do you enjoy being treated like a criminal almost every day?

That's what I thought.

Yeah, well guess what: It turns out that I don't like being treated like a criminal almost every day, either. Imagine that! The difference is that I was being treated like a criminal by cops damn near every day for two or three months, for no reason.

Seein' how I done heard this here America was a free country, I implemented my ass a new policy: I decided I would cooperate with cops until they asked me for my identification. From now on, though, if any cops asked me for identification without justification, I considered it harassment (because it is harassment), and I would stop cooperating with them. No exceptions.

In my entire walk across the United States of America, there was only one other incident in which a cop used physical force with me. Back in Kiowa County, Kansas, I was roughed up and cuffed after I walked away from a Sheriff deputy's unlawful order for me to stop and donate my valuable time to him. Not surprisingly, he ultimately had to set me free after his superior showed up and informed him that I hadn't broken any laws. As much as he didn't like it at first, this cop quickly realized there was nothing he could do except apologize to me and let me go. And even though he broke the law by roughing me up, I left on good terms with him and I actually apologized to him for being a little more confrontational than I should have been.

In this case, my refusal to cooperate actually helped this guy become a better cop because I forced him to realize that he wasn't allowed to do what he did to me. He learned a little bit about the law that day and he probably learned something about the prospective consequences of mis-profiling people, as well.

Most cops aren't stupid enough to behave like Jon Chadd did with me, probably because most cops work for agencies that hold them accountable for their actions. Most cops work for agencies that punish them when they victimize innocent citizens. Unfortunately, the Putnam County Sheriff's Department is not one of these agencies. The Putnam County Sheriff's Department has no integrity, and they actually reward their deputies for victimizing innocent citizens.

There are people talking on the internet about how I was so wrong to expect cops to respect my rights. They don't say it in those words, but they think I should have just done what the cop asked of me because they apparently think it's wrong for me to expect my rights to actually mean something. But does anyone think maybe it might be a little more appropriate to hold the cops accountable for obeying the law and respecting people's rights, even with people who don't know their rights?

I do.

And if I ever hear a story about cops stripping you of your rights, even if it seems like you were a dick and should have just played their stupid game, I will support you. Even if you are one of the idiots who are trying to turn me into the bad guy here, I will support your rights if you are ever stripped of them. In fact, I already have. I protected your rights when I stood up for my own rights.


* * * * *
Regarding the other two offenses I allegedly committed during my contact with Corporal Jon Chadd (not including Possession of Paraphernalia):

I was never actually charged with Disorderly Conduct. Since I was not informed of any of the charges against me until after I'd been taken to the jail, I don't even know why Disorderly Conduct is listed on the arrest report. Perhaps it was dropped almost immediately; I don't know. All I know is that the arrest report is the only piece of legal paperwork I received that mentions Disorderly Conduct.

Similar to the 'Refusal to Identify Self' charge, Corporal Chadd also had no grounds to charge me with 'Resisting Law Enforcement.' A law enforcement officer must be in the act of enforcing an actual law for someone to even be able to resist enforcement of that law. Since Corporal Chadd was never enforcing a law during his interaction with me, it was impossible for me to have resisted the enforcement of a law.

That leaves one charge remaining on the arrest report. You've probably already figured out why the remaining charge was bogus, but I'm not going to dissect the remaining charge until I finish responding to the remainder of the arrest report.

(Continued in Land of the Free, Part IV)

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Another good cop?

The following paragraph is a word for word transcription of a voicemail message I received just before 1:00 last night from this phone number: 305-508-8157 (South Florida).

Yes, hello, uh, my name is Mr. Jones; Mr. Mike Jones. I’m calling in regards to your YouTube video, which is entitled the Aimless episodes with the Collier County Sheriff’s Department. Um, I was just calling you to like, to let you know that, uh, your video sucks and it has wasted approximately 8.3 minutes of my life and, um, you shouldn’t have gave out your phone number on it because I will be calling you repeatedly from here on out. My phone number is 305-508-8157. If you don’t call me within the next five minutes, I will call you at least four times a day from here on out, every day for the rest of your life unless you pay me 2.3 million dollars. Call me back.

I know this sounds almost like a prank call when you read the words, but you'd get a much different feeling if you heard the tone of his voice in the message. "Mr. Jones" didn't sound like he was joking. In fact, he sounded very serious and pissed off, and it was rather creepy.

I imagine this guy found the video by reading the law enforcement-related message boards that have been vilifying me since I started publishing the "Land of the Free" series of posts. What I can't figure out is why so many people think the Collier County video has an anti-cop message. I never even attempted to portray those guys as assholes. If anything, I made it a point to show that they were pretty cool. I mean, I basically chatted casually with the one guy for most of the video. Why are people so stupid?

In case you're wondering, the two "Land of the Free" posts I've published so far are essentially just an intro. It may appear as if I've told you most of the story already, but I'm just getting started. Yes, it should have ended with Part II, according to the law, but it's just the beginning.

I can't tell you right now when I'll publish "Land of the Free, Part III," but it should be up relatively soon. I'm going to refrain from reading new comments until after I finish telling the whole story because some of the comments are stressing me out. The more I get stressed out, the longer it'll take me to tell this story.

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Land of the Free, Part II

Since I've already shared the entire arrest report in Land of the Free, Part I, I'm now going to counter each segment of the arrest report and re-tell the story from my perspective. I will not go out of my way to make myself look like a protagonist here; I'm simply going to tell the truth because I have nothing to hide.

For the remainder of this post, red text signifies excerpts from the arrest report, while my contributions are shown in black text. Gray text represents text that I've copied and pasted from external sources.

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On 7-24-2010 at approximately 7:37 p.m. I was dispatched to a suspicious person complaint on US-40 near the Putnamville Correctional Facility. I was advised by dispatch that the subject was walking eastbound near the prison and that DOC employees had attempted to make contact with the subject and he became belligerent and continued walking east.

I do not dispute the truthfulness of the above account, but I have plenty to add. Here's what really happened:

It all began near the prison, as I walked east on the shoulder of westbound US 40. Minding my own business and wearing a reflective vest (as always), a prison guard stopped his vehicle in front of me and exited the vehicle to confront me.

The guard quickly told me it is illegal to walk on US 40 near the prison. On the edge of the prison grounds, he said, there are signs posted to inform pedestrians that it is unlawful to walk in the area. However, as I suspected from the beginning, everything he said was a lie. First of all, as I found out later, there are no such signs. Furthermore, it's perfectly legal to walk near the prison on the road surface or shoulder.

This guy wasn't trying to be helpful. Rather, he stopped specifically to fuck with me. However, since I was not on prison property, nor had I ever been on prison property, he had no authority to confront me, which means I had no legal obligation to acknowledge his presence. Still, I cooperated with him for a few minutes, giving him a chance to figure out what should have been obvious to anyone with half a brain: that I was just walking through, and that I was no threat to anyone or anything. But he couldn't figure it out, and soon he demanded that I show him identification.

I don't play that game. That is, I don't play that game unless the law enforcement officer has a valid reason to ask for my ID. For example, when I was caught riding a freight train, I totally cooperated with the railroad cop because I'd actually broken a law and he caught me. See how that works?

When the prison guard demanded to see my ID, I stopped cooperating because this is the point at which an inquiry becomes harassment. As he tried to intimidate me, also stealing my valuable time from me, I quickly became defensive and raised my voice to assert my displeasure with his harassment. Not far into our exchange, I informed him that this is the United States of America, and in the United States of America I am free to walk down the street without being hassled by people like him.

He then said, "Well, I fought for your freedom in Vietnam," to which I responded, "Yeah, you fought for my right to walk across this country without having to worry about being harassed by cops or prison guards."

He didn't get it.

For the record, I don't believe he fought for my freedom. Last I checked, my constitutional rights existed for almost 200 years before the Vietnam War began, and no Vietnamese ever tried to strip me of these rights. But hey, if it made him feel good to believe he went there to protect my freedom, then I thought this was an appropriate time to point out that he was currently trying really hard to strip me of my freedom. I figured maybe this would create some moral friction within him to make him realize it's a good time to stop being a prick.

He still didn't get it. The sad part is that he fancied himself a hero or a protector, even though he obviously enjoyed trying to create misery for others.

After putting up with his harassment and arguing with him for several minutes, I simply walked away, against his wishes, resuming my walk east along US 40. And he didn't follow me, either on foot or in his vehicle, because he knew he had no authority to detain me. Instead, due to the fact that I'd so effectively hurt his feelings (which he deserved), he contacted the sheriff's department and lied yet again by reporting that there was a suspicious person walking near the prison.

Now back to the arrest report.

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When I arrived in the area, I observed a male subject sitting in the grass on the north side of US 40, just east of the Lincoln Park Speedway entrance.

At this time I exited my commission to make contact with the subject. Upon approaching the subject I asked if he was alright, to which he responded that he was. At this time I asked the subject if he had recently had contact with employees of the DOC to which he stated that he had. At this time I asked the subject for identification to which he responded he was a US citizen and that he did not have to tell me anything. I again asked the subject for identification to which he again stated he was not going to comply with my request and that I should leave him alone.

This occurred about half an hour after the incident with the prison guard, more than a mile from the prison.

To be clear, I actually said, "This is the United States of America," which has a much different meaning than "I am a US citizen." You may have noticed a trend here. Yes, when I get harassed by cops, I am very fond of reminding them what country we're in because they know exactly what I mean when I say it. And if they don't fully grasp my message, I make it clear that I know my rights and I don't plan to surrender my rights to someone who is paid to protect me.

Anyway, if you think I was unnecessarily or unlawfully obstinate with the guard or the cop, here's where you get to start learning what freedom really means.

In the United States of America, cops have more rules to follow than do civilians. The following is an Indiana statute that establishes what conditions must be met before a law enforcement officer may lawfully detain someone:

IC 34-28-5-3
Detention
Sec. 3. Whenever a law enforcement officer believes in good faith that a person has committed an infraction or ordinance violation, the law enforcement officer may detain that person for a time sufficient to:

(1) inform the person of the allegation;
(2) obtain the person's:

(A) name, address, and date of birth; or
(B) driver's license, if in the person's possession; and

(3) allow the person to execute a notice to appear.

Nowhere in the arrest report does Corporal Chadd establish that anyone had committed an infraction or ordinance violation. Nowhere in the arrest report does Corporal Chadd establish that he witnessed or even suspected that anyone had committed an infraction or ordinance violation. Nowhere in the arrest report does Corporal Chadd establish that I seemed suspicious.

According to the law, by this point of the arrest report, Corporal Chadd no longer had any business with me. Having investigated the report of a suspicious person, he did not find a suspicious person when he contacted me. And even if he did think I seemed suspicious, it's not a crime to seem suspicious. As a well-trained law enforcement officer, he should have concluded that he had either established contact with the wrong person or he had responded to a false alarm. With nothing more to investigate, Corporal Chadd was now obligated to cease contact with me and go back to doing his job.

If Corporal Chadd truly believed there was anything suspicious about me, then he had every right to keep an eye on me for as long as he wanted until I reached the county line. If during his surveillance he witnessed me commit a crime, then he would have had every right to arrest me, demand my identification, and take me to jail. It really is that simple.

Right?

(Continued in Land of the Free, Part III)


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Land of the Free, Part I

You may not be aware that I did some jail time in Greencastle, Indiana last summer, a little more than five months (and 2,600 miles) into my walk across the United States. Yes, I spent three nights in jail last July (2010), and subsequently I had to go back to Indiana for court on Friday January 21, 2011, to defend myself against the charges that landed me in jail.

The remainder of this post (between the horizontal lines) is a word-for-word transcription of the arrest report from that incident (excluding my birth date). As you read this report (which is the deputy's account of the incident, not necessarily the truth), try to figure out exactly at what point I broke a law.

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PUTNAM COUNTY SHERIFF'S DEPARTMENT
CASE # 10074110 (7-24-2010)
OFFENSE (S): FAILURE TO IDENTIFY
DISORDERLY CONDUCT
RESISTING LAW ENFORCEMENT
POSSESSION OF PARAPHERNALIA
SUSPECT: RYAN M. POWELL
CORPORAL JONATHAN D. CHADD

On 7-24-2010 at approximately 7:37 p.m. I was dispatched to a suspicious person complaint on US-40 near the Putnamville Correctional Facility. I was advised by dispatch that the subject was walking eastbound near the prison and that DOC employees had attempted to make contact with the subject and he became belligerent and continued walking east. When I arrived in the area, I observed a male subject sitting in the grass on the north side of US 40, just east of the Lincoln Park Speedway entrance.

At this time I exited my commission to make contact with the subject. Upon approaching the subject I asked if he was alright, to which he responded that he was. At this time I asked the subject if he had recently had contact with employees of the DOC to which he stated that he had. At this time I asked the subject for identification to which he responded he was a US citizen and that he did not have to tell me anything. I again asked the subject for identification to which he again stated he was not going to comply with my request and that I should leave him alone.

At this time Sheriff Steve Fenwick arrived at my location at which time I again asked the subject for identification to which he again refused to provide. At this time Sheriff Fenwick asked the subject to provide identification to which he again refused.

At this time I attempted to reason with the subject and asked for his name and birth date to which he again stated he did not have to provide.

While speaking with the subject he continued to yell and tell us that he was a US citizen and did not have to provide us with any information and that he was aware of the Constitution. After numerous attempts to reason with the subject and asking him to quiet down and cooperate, he stated that he would not provide us with any information.

At this time I told the subject to turn around and place his hands behind his back to which he stated that I better not touch him and that he was not going to comply. At this time I again asked the subject to place his hands behind his back to which he again stated he would not.

At this time I attempted to gain control of the subjects arm to which he jerked away and took a few steps and again told me not to touch him. At this time I assisted the subject to the ground and placed him into handcuffs and advised him to stop resisting, to which he then complied. At this time I patted the subject down and located a wallet in his front pocket that contained an Ohio drivers license identifying the subject as Ryan Michael Powell.

At this time I advised Mr. Powell of his Miranda Rights to which he stated he understood. At this time I contacted dispatch to have the jail van enroute to transport Mr. Powell to the Putnam County Jail. Upon arrival of the jail van Mr. Powell and his belongings were loaded and he was transported to the Putnam County Jail. After arriving at the jail and during the process of placing Mr. Powell's belongings into the property room, a glass smoking device was located in Mr. Powell's bag commonly used to smoke marijuana. At this time Mr. Powell was remanded to the jail staff on the above stated charges.




Cpl. Jonathan D. Chadd
[Jonathan D. Chadd's signature]

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So what do you think? By reading this arrest report, can you figure out exactly how I broke a law? Since I don't want to taint your perception of what may or may not have happened during my encounter with the public servants of Putnam County, Indiana, I'll refrain from adding any commentary for a few days.

(Continued in Land of the Free, Part II)


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Jim Kasper, where are you?

Jim Kasper: If you're out there, I hope to hear from you again. I call your phone number every once in a while, just to see if it's back in operation, but no luck. I worry about you, dude. I consider you a very good friend and I hope you're all right.

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Why I walked from coast to coast

You're probably going to think I'm a selfish jerk after you read what I say here, but I'm going to say it anyway because I'm an honest person who believes critical thinking is infinitely more valuable and respectable than just saying what you know people want to hear. Besides, with what I've done, my voice matters now, even if no one listens to it.

There are at least a couple other people in the middle of coast-to-coast walks right now. These guys are receiving tons of attention that I didn't receive, mostly because they have causes, which they promote to a ridiculous extent.

I want to let you in on something: The idea to do a long walk comes long before the idea to have a cause, except in a few rare instances. People don't walk because they have a cause. Rather, they start planning a walk because they've become sick of life's bullshit and they don't know what else to do. After having a while to think about it, they come up with a cause because they realize a cause is an easy way to get attention, which might be the cheap ticket to a bullshit-free life. Then they come up with a heroic-sounding name for their walk because they realize people buy into that kind of propaganda. Although I think the guys doing this are decent people, I have no respect for the way they use phony causes to trick people for attention.

I knew way before I began my walk that I could attract a lot of media attention by having a cause. But unlike most other ultra-long-distance-walkers, I chose not to have a cause because I have integrity.

So if I didn't do this for attention, why does it piss me off that other walkers are getting attention?

Because I'm human, I guess, and because only I know what an amazing feat I've just accomplished.

What I did was infinitely more difficult than what these other guys are doing. Unlike the others, I carried all my gear at all times. No carts on wheels for my stuff, and nobody bringing me water or supplies. Unlike the others, I had to sleep outside almost every night, whether it was 10 degrees or 90 degrees (which was the norm for three months). With these temperatures, I didn't get much quality rest.

I had almost no money and no comfort. Since I didn't write "HERO" all over myself for everyone to see, I regularly had to deal with dirty cops (and I even spent three nights in jail). For over two months, in the desert and Rocky Mountains, I had a backpack with a broken frame, which put almost all of the weight on my left shoulder. (Back then I was carrying 60-65 lbs, sometimes more.) Yet with all this stuff making it difficult for me, I still averaged 16.5 miles a day (or 18.5 miles a day if you don't count off-days). That may not seem like a lot of daily miles to you, but you have no idea. Believe me, 16.5 miles a day over 211 days with an average of 55 lbs on your back is absolutely nuts.

I have beaten up my body in ways almost no one else can comprehend (including the cause-walkers). I hurt like hell constantly, and the pain is not going to end for a long time, if ever.

No, I didn't do this for media attention, but I feel like I've earned some attention and recognition, and I'm a little disappointed that I haven't received any. And honestly, it really bugs me that these other guys have been treated like heroes by the masses for doing something that really doesn't compare to what I've done.

So do you want to know why I did this coast-to-coast walk?

I did it because I said I could do it. I did it because I can do anything I tell you I can do. If I can't do something, I won't tell you I can do it.

Taking it a step farther: If I tell you I am THE BEST at something, it's because I really am the best. If I'm not the best, I won't tell you I'm the best.

Having said that, I want you to know that I am the best when it comes to making and selling pizza. I can do it better than anyone. That's not arrogance; it's confidence in knowledge. I admit I have a lot left to learn about owning a business, but that's the easy part. The hard part is learning how to create a marketable product, then selling that product to people, and I figured out how to do that a long time ago. So if there's any smart money out there reading this, you really ought to consider sending some of it this way because I'll turn it into more money.

You've all heard the term "Put your money where your mouth is." Yeah, well, I don't have any money, so I put my body where my mouth is, for seven months, 24 hours a day. (There probably aren't many people who could have done it in less than 9 months.)

I'm not a talker; I'm a doer. Now that I've done the hardest, most painful thing anyone can do, I'm very proud of the accomplishment and I want it to mean something. I want to be able to create some good jobs for a few handfuls of people who currently have no avenues available. I want to lead by example by paying my workers a higher hourly wage than I pay myself. And if I can somehow find my own avenue to that reality, then maybe I will eventually have the power to create even more good jobs in other ways.

Now that's a noble cause.

The sorry shape of our economy is not an accident. "The way we've always done it" is the problem. People like me are the solution.

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I'm done. I have now

I'm done. I have now walked from the Pacific Ocean to the Atlantic Ocean.

Brooklyn Bridge

Only about ten miles left to go.

WTC 9/11/10

Thank you

I wanna say thanks to everyone who texted me to say congratulations yesterday. I sincerely appreciate your support, and it means a lot to me. But I'm not quite done yet. I still have about 15 or 17 miles left to go. I'm gonna do a real short day today, probably stopping somewhere near the Brooklyn Bridge before finding a place to watch some Buckeye football. I could go a lot farther today, but I want to have to do some real mileage tomorrow before I finish. I want to be tired and hurting when I get to Coney Island, y'know. --> Me and my folks had some slices at Ray's at 6th Avenue and 11th Street last night. I'd eaten there a couple times before, so I knew it was good stuff, but it was really damn good last night. Ah, so much to say.

Speechless

Big apple in sight

I don't know if you can see Manhattan in this pic, but I can see it from where I took the pic. (Empire State Building is to the left of the billboard.) Awesome!

In New Jersey, everyone calls

In New Jersey, everyone calls you "Buddy" and the slices are thinner than NYC slices. Only about 20 more miles to Manhattan!

Uno mas

I can almost taste the Big Apple, baby. Only 75 or 80 miles to the George Washington Bridge (Manhattan), I think, then about 23 more to Coney Island after that. I could easily be done by Saturday, but I'll be taking Saturday off, as long as everything goes smoothly between now and then. Y'see, this Saturday is for watching Buckeye football (and then Penn State when that game is over). I guess my folks are gonna show up to witness the end of this unfuckingbelievably amazing and painful journey. There's a tear rolling down my cheek right now just from thinking about what I've ALMOST done, so I can only imagine how it will feel once I actually finish. I'll probably be crying like a little baby. Man... Wow.

Cool people

I went into a bar this evening just to ask for some water, but I ended up hanging around for a while because the people were so cool. Someone bought me a beer, while someone else bought me some chips and candy for the road, and the barkeep made me a sandwich. Another dude gave me a pack of smokes just to piss off one of the other guys. This pack might last me close to a week, since I'm kinda in the cut-down/quit phase. (Bet you thought I quit a long time ago, eh.) The bar is called Taxi's and it's in Gilberton, I believe (or Mahanoy Plain maybe). I meet so many cool people constantly, and I wish I could spend more time hanging with them, but you have almost no time to chat when you're doing over 20 miles a day, especially as the days get shorter. --> Temps are supposed to go way down beginning tomorow, so that should help me crank out the miles for at least a few days. --> Man, PA is
really a unique state. No way I could possibly describe why from my phone.

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Let the games begin

Of course I stopped by that stadium. Beaver Stadium. Yeah. Heh heh, heh. Beaver. Beee-ver. --> Are you ready for some COLLEGE football? I sure am. Go Bucks!

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200 days down and 3,246.4

200 days down and 3,246.4 miles behind me. Smokin! (Shamokin Dam, PA.) Should have less than 200 miles left to go.

Why do I see so

Why do I see so many grown men driving around w/their stereo cranking the hell out of songs that were clearly manufactured for 12-year-old girls?

State College

This is Eric getting into his car. I met Eric at a gas station shortly after entering State College Saturday. Thinking I might shoot for 35 miles that day, I chose instead to accept Eric's invitation to crash at his place. That worked out well because with my insane mileage early that day, I still did 25 miles by about 7:00, then had plenty of time to relax. --> Figuring I'd start moving no later than 3:00 Sunday afternoon, I ended up sticking around and staying at Eric's place again that night. That also worked out well because I was about 30 miles ahead of where I'd planned to be by then. --> It was cool hanging with Eric because he felt like a friend right from the start. It's nice to get a break, some comfort, and some companionship once in a while, and this was a rare instance in which I was able to receive those things. Thanks for everything, Eric. I had a great time hanging with
ya.

17.63 miles at 3:00. I

17.63 miles at 3:00. I consider 3:00 the halfway point of each day. This kind of mileage is nuts!

I've been warned that Tyrone,

I've been warned that Tyrone, PA cops are dirty creeps. I doubt that they're anything like Putnam County, IN, though. We'll find out in an hour.

The USPS doesn't screw around

The USPS doesn't screw around in Altoona. At 9:30 I've already seen three mailmen delivering mail (on foot). Good example for all the lazy-asses.

At 20 miles a day,

At 20 miles a day, I should be 260 miles from home right now. Instead, I'm 280 (Ebensburg, PA). Kicking ass! Just over 300 miles left to go.

Aw man, I just passed

Aw man, I just passed a live deer that appears to have 2 broken legs. I called 911, then left to keep from stressing him out. I feel shitty now.

I'm not applying for any

I'm not applying for any more rewards cards. If you won't sell it to me for the marked price, I'll keep my money and you can restock all of it.

Somebody better show up and

Somebody better show up and take an 'After' pic of me before I arrive in NYC because I'm gonna pig out on pizza and cheesecake when I get there.

Hey ER: If you've wondered,

Hey ER: If you've wondered, I wasn't yelling at you when I posted the same comment 3 times. That was an accident, and it's been bugging me.

I did at least 2.5

I did at least 2.5 miles in 3 different states today. Also hit the 3,000 mile mark tonight. Really crankin' out the miles lately. 3 more weeks.

Test from phone

This pic is from the spot where Forrest stopped running: Gump Hill, Monument Valley, Utah.

Long overdue update

Wondering why I haven't posted anything new over the last four months? Did you think I quit walking back in Arizona?

Yeah, well, I didn't quit.

In fact, I have now walked about 2,830 miles from Santa Monica, California to my parents' house in central Ohio. I just haven't been able to blog because Blogger made it impossible for me to blog all this time and there was nothing I could do about it. It especially pisses me off because I didn't know it was going to happen until after it happened. Consequently, I was never able to let you know what was going on.

Some highlights from the time I was unable to blog:

• Beginning about a week after I left Phoenix, I spent the next two months in elevations of 5,000 to 8,000 feet above sea level. It was very cold most of that time, especially at night, when I often had to wear all my clothes and winter gear inside my sleeping bag just to stay remotely warm.
• The Navajo are the most awesome people on the planet, particularly the Oliver family of Mexican Hat, Utah. (I know 'Oliver' doesn't sound very Navajo to you, but yes, they are Navajo.)
• Colorado was miserable in just about every way possible, with cold temps, snow, and 50 MPH winds tossing me around all the time. I crossed the continental divide at Wolf Creek Pass (10,850 feet above sea level). It last snowed on me on May 14, as I came down from La Veta Pass, near Walsenburg. Ever since then it has been miserably hot, excluding two days.
• Kansas has no trees. No trees means no shade. No shade means no comfort. No comfort means no good rest. Also, I was harassed by cops just about every day for three weeks as I crossed central and eastern Kansas. The people of Kansas, however, were very friendly and kind. I met tons of amazing people in Kansas.
• Missouri, with its absence of standing water, provided a couple weeks without mosquitos.
• Illinois was pretty boring.
• In eastern Illinois, a car drifted toward me in a spot where I had only a couple inches of shoulder to walk on. As the car continued to drift in my direction, I watched and waited for the driver to correct the car's path, but it never happened. So for a split second, I knew I was about to die. Somehow, though, I managed to get out of the way and save my own life.
• In Putnam County, Indiana, I was harassed and beaten up by a sheriff's deputy, then forced to spend three nights in jail after he charged me with offenses that never happened. (Actually there were two deputies; it's just easier to write this by turning them into one person.) This ordeal is nowhere near over, and it is the event that made me realize for sure that I will write a book about this adventure, which I likely will call Land of the Free. By the way, my rib still hurts almost three weeks later from the excessive force used by the deputies, who each weigh about twice as much as me.
• I'm totally sick of being harassed by cops, and I will continue to assert my rights every time they harass me for the rest of this walk.
• I did two consecutive 30-mile days after passing through Indy. This blows my mind because 30 miles is nuts even for one day. So to do it again the very next day... WOW! (Let me tell you about pain.) On the second night, after about 29.8 miles (five miles into Ohio), an 18-wheeler flew by me at highway speeds, a foot outside his lane, missing me by mere inches. Having walked 60 miles in the previous 38 hours, I had no strength or energy to move. This was so surreal; it felt like it took five minutes. You've never experienced anything like this.
• The day before I made it home, Mike Harden from the Columbus Dispatch met me near South Charleston. His story about me ran a few days later on Sunday. I also received a call from WCMH's Jerod Smalley the day after I met with Harden. I expect to hear from Smalley again within the next couple days, so keep an eye on channel 4 if you live in Columbus.

I am fortunate to have met tons and tons of the most amazing people you could ever hope to meet, but that's a very small sample of the American people. I'm sorry to report that when I'm not meeting these people, I witness one stupid act after another. We, the people of the United States of America, must stop being so stupid.

I hope you can make some sense of the recent posts here, now that I've clued you in a little. I haven't tried blogging from my phone yet since I've changed the blog's URL. Hopefully it will work. Even if it does work, though, I don't anticipate writing many new posts as I walk the final 600 miles from here to NYC. But who knows?

So much more to say, but I can only say so much right now. Besides, I'm here to relax so I can feel rejuvinated when I start walking again on Friday.

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Test #2

This better work. I don't have time to deal with this crap not doing what it's supposed to do.

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Failure to provide ID

The following is taken from a forum in which regular people and cops discuss the specifics of certain laws.

If they have NOT committed an offense, and I ask for their ID and they tell me to **** off, I have no lawful right to demand their ID. I have had several people ask me why, and I just simply state that you see my name on my chest and I like to know who i'm talking to. They're usually pretty good about giving it up. It's all in talking to them with respect and dignity.

Now on the flipside, if they have committed an offense and I ask for their ID and they do not provide it to me, well then they're getting cited for failure to provide ID. If they do not have it on them they're getting hooked, and taken to the PD to be fingerprinted and ID'd.

Walking peacefully down the road, which is all I do every day, does not give any law enforcement officer justification to stop me and demand to see my ID. If that happens, I have the right to walk away and go on with my life. Even if I tell the dude to go fuck himself, I still have the right to continue walking toward the Atlantic Ocean if I so desire, and the cop has no right to demand any more of my time unless I have actually broken a law.

In my Indiana brush with the law, I did not tell the deputy to go fuck himself. I just told him, calmly, to leave me alone, which I am allowed to do. Regardless, I was effectively beaten up by the cop (who I will name when this is all over). Then I spent three nights in jail for having been the victim of a crime by someone who's paid to protect me. And now I have to show up back in Indiana next month for court.

Yes, I would do it again, and I will do it again the next time a cop stops and asks me for my ID without justification. This will almost surely happen within the next week. But I almost certainly will not end up in jail when I do it again because most cops know their limits. And to be perfectly clear, the cop who arrested me knew his limits; he just didn't care and he mistakenly assumed I was stupid, which is why he wrote a report that is full of lies that don't add up.

Cops know they have more rules to follow than I do.

Still, cops are the only people who give me any trouble. Cops are the only criminals I have to fear out there. There are tons of good cops, but there are also tons of thug cops. And until that changes, I will continue to assert my freedom whenever they try to strip me of it.

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Lasting impressions

Here's an e-mail I received a while back but was finally able to read today. It's from a lady cyclist I met in eastern Kansas. (I'm in Ohio now; walked all the way. I'll soon explain why there haven't been any new blog posts in four months.) I was kinda expecting a link to a painting with trees wrapped in barbed wire, but I was shocked and blown away when I learned that I'd inspired my own painting.

i met you on the road just outside of Yates Center Kansas. I on bike, you, of course ..... not. You were looking forward to getting new sandals, I hope they came.

I cycle tour solo every summer because it gives me life experience to feed my art and my soul. I make paintings along the way.

I told you I was going to make a painting about Kansas "hogging" its shade trees behind barbed wire fences. I made that painting, and I made one inspired by our visit as well. I made the painting not to glorify what you - we - do. Solo endurance and living our lives in a way most consider unusual. I made the painting because I was pissed that a man walking should be considered a criminal by those we are told to trust as our caretakers - police.

Not their fault really. It is an entire culture built on fear. You are different, there for something to fear.

see the paintings at

www.tmoore2.com/

teri
ps - I didn't think you were scary at all. I thought of you the same as the Kansas wildflowers that surrounded you.

On the back of the painting, Teri also wrote some notes about our meeting.

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Test #1

Test. Let's see if this makes it to Facebook.

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Walking coast to coast, Rule #1

For anyone thinking about doing a continuous coast-to-coast walk/hike someday, here is the most valuable tip I can give you: Take only what you absolutely need.

You'll be tempted to take a few shirts, a camp towel, a laptop, maybe a book, and a bunch of tiny things that don't seem like much weight. DON'T DO IT. Instead, learn from my pain.

I'm probably much stronger than I was when I walked away from the Santa Monica Pier, but my body is totally beat up and everything hurts constantly, largely because I was carrying too much weight when I started. I thought I'd be a machine after a month or two, but that does not happen. Instead, the weight just goes down to your feet with every step, and it beats you up like you've never been beat up before.

After a few months, every day becomes tougher than the previous day. 50 lbs now feels like 70 lbs; tomorrow it will feel like 70.1 lbs. And it's all because I started out with too much weight. So just be smart and learn from my experience. It will make your long walk much less painful than it could be.

Shirts. I'm down to one short sleeve shirt and one long sleeve shirt, though I started with three lightweight short sleeve shirts and one long sleeve shirt. My shirt probably makes me smell like dog shit most of the time, but I don't care anymore because 1) I am almost always alone, and 2) There comes a point where you just stop caring. There is no need to worry about being a little smelly because that kind of thing happens when you're doing the most bad-ass thing anyone can do. Get over it and leave your shirts at home.

Socks & Footwear. Even though I walk in sandals, I had one pair of socks in the beginning, just in case I needed to get some shoes for whatever reason. And it did happen. I had to wear shoes for about 10 miles at Wolf Creek Pass in Colorado, at 10,850 feet. I paid $1.50 for the shoes at a thrift store, then ditched them in Walsenburg because I knew I'd never need them again. If I was walking in boots, I'd probably have to carry 4-6 pairs of footies, at 5 ounces per pair. Great reason to wear sandals. Also, my sandals are 2 lbs lighter than my last pair of boots. That makes a huge difference.

Essential Items
Backpack with at least an 80-liter capacity;
Sleeping bag rated below freezing;
Good, light tent and footprint;
Sleeping pad (I prefer inflatable, small);
Fleece top with full zipper;
Down or synthetic winter coat (doubles as a pillow in a stuff sack, though you'll send it home once spring is over);
Thin/light raincoat;
Rain pants;
Waterproof pack cover (if your pack is not waterproof);
One pair of convertible pants + shorts to wear during laundry;
A one-liter water bottle & collapsible water bladders amounting to about a 3-gallon capacity;
Maybe a few other things, too. (For some folks, weed.)

That's all for now. Much more to say about this stuff when I get a chance. Maybe I'll write about it in a book someday.

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Goodbye?

Blog posts from my phone have not been publishing lately, so here's the deal: I probably will not be blogging anymore, mostly because Blogger has decided to make everything difficult/impossible for people who use their "service" to publish blogs on FTP servers or something like that. Long story; I'm not going to try to explain everything because I don't have time and I don't fully understand what's going on.

I've been in Cortez, Colorado for a few days, staying with some folks I met (Jake Heath and Kayla McGrath). Very good people; they feel like friends to me.

I have so much to say, but there are not enough people who care what I have to say. It's been great, but I'm pretty much done blogging. Enjoy the silence.

Goodbye?

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Let's try this again

After two tries, I don't think that video ever published, so I'll try once more. It should be here this time. I probably won't be blogging anymore after a few days because I won't be able to, thanks to Blogger screwing with everything. Been in Cortez, Colorado for a few days, staying with some very cool folks I met. Too much to say and not enough people who care what I have to say. So it's been great. I may crank out a few more posts while I still can, but I may not. Enjoy the silence.

The Navajo are the kindest,

The Navajo are the kindest, most amazing group of people I've ever met, particularly the Oliver family of Mexican Hat. Much more to say soon.

Changes

Stupid Blogger is about to make it impossible to host Blogger blogs on FTP servers (or something like that), so now I have to go through a whole bunch of BS to keep this blog alive. I probably won't have an opportunity to make the changes, so this blog may disappear soon. However, if I am able to make the changes, the new URL for this blog will probably be http://www.aimlessmovie.blogspot.com. I don't know when it'll change, so just try to remember this.

I may stop blogging anyway, though, because no one gives a shit about what I have to say. Hardly anyone ever comments and only two people have become fans on Facebook during the last seven weeks. I'm surprised and disappointed, and I'm not going to waste my time anymore to entertain five people.

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It's a miracle! Jesus came

It's a miracle! Jesus came to me last night and healed my mangled leg. I know it sounds impossible, but it's true. I can walk again!

Aw fuck. I'm pretty sure

Aw fuck. I'm pretty sure I just broke my leg. Can't walk. Waiting for the ambulance now. Looks like this is all over. God dammit!

Jerome

I suspect Jerome is heaven. It's such an amazing place, even when you're there and gone in the blink of an eye. No picture can do it justice, either. --> This morning, as I made my way out of Jerome, an old lady said something to me from across the street. Walking over to her yard to respond, we ended up talking for maybe 15 minutes. She was so cool, with a cynically filthy mouth not unlike my own. The language seemed so out of place for a woman of her age; it was great. Figuring she was about 70, I was shocked when she told me she's 90. I never did get her name, but she said she used to be an actress; apparently a pretty well-known (or famous?) actress. Man, I need to remember to take pics of people like her. --> Half an hour later, I encountered a cyclist/traveler on his way up into town. His name is James Johnson and he is riding from Chicago to San Diego to Portland and then back to
Chicago. We talked for about an hour. http://crazyguyonabike.com/doc/turtleadventure2010.

Snow foot

Presto

See, it wasn't just smoke and mirrors. This is from yesterday (Tuesday), shortly after I began the descent to Jerome. I topped out at 7,023 feet, only a few minutes after I estimated that I was at about 7,000 feet.

No longer riding

I'm just sitting here watching the wheels go round and round.

Spooky

From left: Sonya, me, Tobin, and Jennifer (the waitresses and bartender at the Haunted Hamburger). I probably misspelled everyone's name there, but these folks rock. I pulled into Jerome a little before 8:00 last night, completely exhausted and wobbly, just hoping there was someplace open to eat. The first place I found was the Haunted Hamburger, and it was the right place. Along with the restaurant's staff, I also talked extensively with a couple from Phoenix, who were sitting a few seats over from me at the bar. These people were all so cool. I really enjoyed talking to all of them. If you're ever in Jerome, you have to eat there. Not just because they're cool as hell, but also because they serve some damn good food. --> Today, near Clarkdale, a stunningly gorgeous girl stopped to offer me a ride. As with everyone who offers me a ride, I had to decline, but I really wanted to accept
this offer. We talked for a few minutes, then I thanked her and we each headed on down the road. D'OH!

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Higher and higher

Yes, I am WAAAY above the snow line right now... in sandals. The most recent elevation sign said I was at 6,000 feet, but I've climbed a long way since then, so I'm guessing I'm probably at about 7,000 feet in this pic. Still going up, too.

See ya down in Arizona Bay

These mountains are bigger than they look here. I have to go up and over them today, then make it back down before it gets too cold up there. (And it will get very cold once the sun goes down.) On the other side is Jerome. Everyone says Jerome is absolutely beautiful. One local resident also told me Maynard from Tool lives there, which makes sense because he thinks California is going to fall off into the ocean. (He really should have taken Geology 101 before writing those ridiculous lyrics.) --> The 'tears' remark in the previous post was in reference to a show I watched Sunday night called Undercover Boss or something. I sure hope they didn't just edit that show to make the CEO look more caring than he really is. Believe me: When you have as much footage as they had before they edited that show, you can manipulate the story to make it say anything you want it to say. However, I felt
like everything that happened on the show was pretty genuine. I hope so.

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I like when people move

I like when people move me to tears.

Idiocracy

If you can't figure out what's wrong with this country by reading this flier, please don't have kids.

Prescott

Yesterday I began near Wilhoit and climbed at least half a mile through some mountains, reaching about 6300 feet before descending 1000 feet to Prescott. At 5:00, after busting ass for 19+ miles, I found a restaurant where I could watch the Buckeyes lose. A few miles up the road, still in Prescott, I ate at In-N-Out and slept in the cold mile-high night. Today I decided I'd finally take a day off, so I did some fund-raising and walked down to a cheap motel I passed last night. I paid $34 for a dump of a room, but I kinda like it. The motel is really old and I can picture William Burroughs sitting here on the bed with a needle in his arm, his eyes struggling to stay open and his body slumping over as he drifts off into junkie bliss. I think I'll make a weekend of it and stay here again tomorrow night because my body really needs the rest. At this altitude, I think I have a lot of cold
nights ahead of me. It's probably good that I didn't start 2 weeks earlier, as I'd originally planned.

Altitude

As you can see, I'm really high right now.

I just ran into George Throop again, about six miles southeast(?) of Wickenburg. He's going toward Phoenix, while I'm going the other way. Total surprise to see him because we have not communicated at all since we met on February 14, and because I thought he was going to stick near I-10, which is 40 or 50 miles south of here. He ended up walking along US 60, though, which is the road I'm on right now. Crazy.

Chair

Sometimes you just have to take your next break a little bit ahead of schedule.

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Goodbye Phoenix

Someone please tell me what a "Family Car Wash" is. --> Now that I'm out of metro Phoenix, I'm shocked to say I'll miss that town a little. Having met a lot of good/cool people there, my opinion of Phoenix has changed dramatically. Wish I'd heard from Eric, though. --> I'm currently somewhere between Surprise and Wickenburg. I'll likely head through Prescott, Sedona, and Flagstaff on my way to the Grand Canyon, which I should reach in maybe ten days or so. --> I figured I'd be a machine by now, but I'm not. I still hurt all the time, and it's still tough to do 20 miles a day. (I'm averaging closer to 19 now. Of course, I've probably walked considerably more miles than my pedometer shows because my pedometer sucks. In fact, every pedometer sucks. I really wish someone would make a pedometer that doesn't suck.) I guess I've just pushed myself so hard, my body hasn't had a chance to
recover and strengthen. The mostly Ramen/oatmeal diet surely hasn't helped much, either. I need a break!

Sports

After a pretty rough day, some girls from a high school lacrosse team just made my night at In-N-Out Burger in Paradise Valley. As I was getting up to leave, one of them asked me what I was doing with the backpack. I ended up talking to them and answering questions for the next 15 or 30 minutes. When one of them asked me how I get money, I showed them my signs. As a result, I ended up with a handful of bills and change, which I have not counted yet. These girls and their guy friends really made me feel special and important, and that's a nice feeling. Thanks, ladies. This encounter was a very cool and memorable experience for me. (I already forgot the name of their school. Maybe one of them will see this and mention the school's name in a comment.)

REI just lost one of

REI just lost one of its best and most loyal customers.

OK, I got my license

OK, I got my license back. Echeverry is actually the one who treated me respectfully, so I'll edit that other post when I get a chance.

Pic: The coolest town in Arizona. O-H... --> The people of west suburban Phoenix have been very friendly so far, stopping to offer rides and stuff. It's going to take a lot more gestures of kindness to make up for some of the bullshit I've dealt with, though. --> Eric, if you're going to call, you need to call NOW because I'm in Goodyear. If you've e-mailed me or anything like that, I haven't seen it because I don't have internet access. I hope to hear from you.

Fire

Here's that fire.

Arizona is for losers

This cactus and I feel the same about Arizona. --> Two nights ago, after walking 20 miles out of Gila Bend (through absolutely desolate desert), I found a great spot to sleep. I set up my tent and whatnot, but I also started my very first campfire. I thought I was in a good, invisible setting, but shortly a couple Maricopa County Sheriff's deputies showed up. One was mostly all right (Deputy Echeverry, or something like that), but the other one was an abusive prick. Long story short: They forced me to pack up and ride with them 20 miles back to Gila Bend. Then, and I didn't realize this until they were gone, Fuckface kept/stole my drivers' license. This was no accident. The guy has the personality of a serial killer, and keeping his victims' possessions gives him a hard-on. It's that simple. So when I get to the station tomorrow, I'm going to file a complaint (and a
theft charge if my license isn't there waiting for me). He's probably jerking off to it right now.

Sign Interpretation 101

This means you have to drive like a fucking retard for the next 9 miles.

Gila Bend, AZ. No, I haven't seen a Shaqtus yet.

UFO over Phoenix?

Anyone remember the shows about the "UFO over Phoenix" maybe ten years ago? Even though the show's producers tried to present the lights as something really mysterious by ignoring the real evidence and instead focusing on the interpretations of crackpots, I was pretty satisfied with the explanation (and evidence) that said the lights were flares. Now having seen them for myself, I can tell you the lights in these pictures are most certainly flares. Yeah, I was in awe when I first saw them, but after a while it was pretty clear what was going on. You probably can't tell from the picture, but these things are VERY bright. They're so bright, you can sometimes see the trail of smoke above each flare as it slowly falls toward Earth. Oh, and the fighter jets... This was about 100 miles SW of Phoenix on an Air Force range near Mexico. --> I should be in Phoenix's west suburbs tomorrow night.
So Eric, call me very soon if you intend to meet up with me. --> Does March Madness start this week?

Cattle guards

These things scare the shit out of me, especially when my pack is heavy. (It's almost always heavy.) When you're carrying a lot of weight, your steps rarely hit their target. As you can see, there's not much room for error on these things. So every time I set a foot down on one of them, there's a chance I might break a leg or something. And yes, I've had to walk over a lot of these lately, even though I haven't seen a cow in days.

Booty

Nature provides. --> Thanks, Aunt Lisa and Uncle Paul. I sincerely appreciate your help. --> Phoenix ETA: Sunday.

Vulnerable

Apparently no one is willing to help me get any of the things I desperately need right now, like new footwear, a good headlamp, and a reflective vest. That's OK, though. It just lets me know I really am alone out here. Not having these things might get me seriously injured or killed, but at least I know where we all stand.

Did you know Yuma is

Did you know Yuma is actually supposed to be pronounced 'Yummay'?

18 days and 362.5 miles

18 days and 362.5 miles from the Santa Monica Pier to the Arizona state line above the Colorado River in Yuma.

Today: A day of rest and fundraising in Yuma

Waking up 22 miles from the Arizona state line yesterday, I knew I had to bust ass and take very few breaks to make it to the sign before darkness (to get a visible pic). So wouldn't it figure that some CHP asshole had to stop me not once but twice to hassle me and tell me I'm not allowed to walk along the ONLY FUCKING ROAD. Instead, I was supposed to walk over giant sand dunes and wide irrigation canals with no bridges. Essentially this dude negated all my break time by making me stand around and listen to him with my pack on. You probably haven't thought about this, but every minute I stand around carrying my pack is a minute I'm neither resting nor moving. It adds up quick, as do the extra miles. So I ended up having to walk 23 or 24 miles, with almost no rest, to make it to the state line in time for a pic. (If you haven't done this, you don't know what pain is.) Much more to it
than that. --> Thanks to whoever contacted John Sears for me. --> Need your help getting some gear...

If I don't get a

If I don't get a really good headlamp, I'm gonna end up seriously injured. If you'd like to help, call me so I can let you know how. Thanks.

Yuma

So much to say... later.

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Dunes

If I don't get a

If I don't get a really good headlamp, I'm gonna end up seriously injured. If you'd like to help, call me so I can let you know how. Thanks.

27 miles today; 72 the

27 miles today; 72 the last 3 days; 300 the last 15 days. South of El Centro. Finally averaging 20 miles/day. Yes, I hurt like hell all the time.

If I don't get a

If I don't get a really good headlamp, I'm gonna end up seriously injured. If you'd like to help, call me so I can let you know how. Thanks.

Some dude on a bike

Some dude on a bike just told me God loves me. Is that why my ass hurts?

Evil desert

Pic: Chaco feet. Jealous, huh, winter-bound, pale-ass Ohio honkeys? --> My god, yesterday was a bitch. Rain. Sun. Rain. Wind. Wind. Wind. I got off to a great start, with 10 miles before noon, but the weather took its toll, along with the absence of anywhere comfortable to sit. The wind kept me from cooking. I wasted an hour of energy just trying to set up my tent as a windshield... unsuccessfully. In fact, I almost lost the tent a few times. Bent the poles a little more, too. So much more hellish than I can describe here. Was shooting for 30 miles yesterday, and I could've done it with semi-decent weather. Instead I stopped at 8:00 beside a huge stack of hay, which shielded me from the wind and saved me from even more misery. Still did 22.5 miles, though. Slept about a mile short of Westmorland. --> Would someone please contact John Sears at Gregory Mountain Products and ask him to
call me? I have feedback and questions for him, but I don't have his number handy. Thanks!

So I walk into a

So I walk into a truck stop after a smokin' 20 miles, and what's on the TV but Forrest Gump. Ever feel like everything is as it should be?

Desert

I think this means I'll be in the middle of nowhere in a few minutes. It also means I'll be in Arizona in about five days. --> Brad, will you make sure Eric Eves sees this? If you can, also let him know I'll be in Phoenix in two weeks or less and that he should call me. Thanks.

Coachella. Left takes me east

Coachella. Left takes me east of the Salton Sea; right goes west. I'm going right. Lots of water and ramen noodles makes for one heavy-ass pack.

Sbarro's prices have gone up

Sbarro's prices have gone up while their pizza has shrunk by at least 2". You were already overpriced, Sbarro. Guess where I'll NEVER eat again.

Palm Springs to pedestrians: If

Palm Springs to pedestrians: If you want to be able to see where you're walking or if you want a sidewalk, fuck you! Go buy a car.

Machine/badass

Last Thursday, after walking for hours without a break, I realized I'm about 82% machine. Later, though, when I weighed my gear on a scale at REI, I became aware that I'm 100% badass. Thinking I was carrying a little over 40 lbs at the time, I was actually carrying 51.5 lbs. But that doesn't make me a badass. Here's what makes me a badass: For the first couple days of this new adventure, I was carrying an additional 2+ gallons of water. That's 17 or 18 lbs right there, and it means my gear weighed 68 or 69 lbs when my water bladders were full. That's HALF AS MUCH AS I WEIGH, and that number's gonna go up in a few days when I'll need to stock up on water and food to make it across the desert. But here's what really makes me a badass: I don't fear the desert. This'll be easy. --> I have always raved about REI, but they've really pissed me off lately because they won't remove my Gregory
review, which I've asked them to remove twice. So now I'm gonna trade in my beat-up tent for a new one.

Desert Shadow

VERY IMPORTANT! If I should

VERY IMPORTANT! If I should ever be hit by a car and cannot speak for myself, I want the perp to be prosecuted very aggressively. 2 B continued..

If you've never walked by

If you've never walked by an orange grove, picked an orange without asking, and eaten the orange, then you've never eaten an orange. Delicious!

Jim & I are Avatards.

Jim & I are Avatards. We saw it again yesterday in Redlands; ate at Shakey's. He's on buses back to LA now, so I'm gonna try to do 25 miles/day.

Thanks to the Rose Bowl's

Thanks to the Rose Bowl's entertainment committee, the dream police now live inside my head. They also come to me in my bed. Every single night.

I dare sleep in Fuck

I dare sleep in Fuck Fontana tonight. 22.34 miles today; 93.8 miles the last 5 days. Head still hurts. If I'm never seen again, the cops did it.

I just bought 'Into the

I just bought 'Into the Wild,' even though I didn't really have the money. I just turned my head and there it was. Figured it musta been a sign.