Date: 2003-05-24
From: Davis Path Shelter

To: Lynn Camp Creek
Miles today: 12.0

I am totally shocked to wake up. I thought I would not sleep all night. Every time a mouse stepped on a twig, my eyes flew open! I feel like a truck has hit me. Once during the night, I heard boots hitting the shelter floor. I just knew the next sound I would hear would be a scream.Lone hiker tells us that the water source close to the shelter is ruined because the cows are in the pasture and have urinated in the water. He also tells me that he saw me wipeing down my tent on the inside. I feel very uneasy then. He pours some oatmeal in a cup and adds cold water. This is his breakfast. Morning star leaves before I can thank him for sticking around. Lone Hiker tells me good by and heads north on the trail. I pass him later and he is sitting on the side of the trail, sewing his name on his shirt. Hi has changed from a ski hat to a scarf covering his head. As I pass and quickly speak, I notice a scar on the back of his head. He has very little hair. It reminds me of something I read in Stephen Covey's book, Seven Habits of Highly Effective People. We tend to make snap assumptions sometimes without knowing all the details or having all the information we need to make an informed decision. Would I have felt differently or reacted differently if I had of known he had been in a accident or had serious surgery? Maybe, maybe not. All I could go on was my gut feelings, and I have to tell you those feelings were not overwhelmingly alarming. Red flags yes, but severe alarm, no.I pondered all day about those feelings I had. The whys, why nots, my reactions or lack of. The only thing I could determine was that he was different from me. He was not a hiker, did not act like one, or smell like one. He was different, but did that warrant my passing judgement on some one because someone is different? Was it judgement or fear??I ran into several other hikers who had the same feelings when they met him. At least I was not totally off the wall. It is funny though, they all hiked past where they were going to stay in an effort to avoid him. He certainly has a lot of control over us!I hike through more pastures and more farmland. It is a beautiful day for hiking. The mud still sucks at my boots and tries to steal my hiking poles.I come to yet another stile. Someone has taken a pen and wrote "You are 1/4 of the way to Maine" on one of the boards. I study it for awhile, letting it sink in that I have come this far. I remember the 1/10 and then 1/7 marker. The 300 mile stones in the trail. I do a war cry and a short rendition of the dance of the real woman. I regret that Mudbut is not here to celebrate this moment with me. I take a picture and cross over yet another mile stone.As I come across the field I run into Uncle Mark, and Morph. I have seen them on the trail, but never met them officially. We spend a few minutes taking a break and enjoying the sun on our back.I share my hike for polio with them. Uncle Mark digs down into his pack and hands me a twenty dollar bill. He laughs and says he thinks I will come up short of Katahdin. Really he did not have any small bills. I am grateful for another donation.They are hiking with Triple T and Chicken Legs, sisters from Virginia. It does not take the guys very long to get ahead of me, but they ask me to stay with them at the shelter tonight.I join them at a campsite just passed the shelter. It seems that everyone has run into Lone Hiker and is uncomfortable with him. We go past the shelter to avoid him in case he gets there tonight. We have a campfire and listen to the owls tonight as they call back and forth. More hikers join us, all of them having come across Lone Hiker and wanting no part of him. Some of them just do not want Jesus shoved down their throat, although I did not feel like he was shoving anything when I talked to him. In fact he even asked me if talking about Jesus offended me. It is amazing how much power we have given this stranger. We have a campfire, but I turn in early since I did not sleep very well last night.I was trying to compose an e mail when my pocket mail crashed. This is a fine state of affairs. It had five or six days worth of journals on it, ready to be sent. I am totally dismayed now.I am still disturbed by my reactions/feelings of last night. It comes to me that yesterday in prayer, I had prayed that I might see people through the eyes of Christ. To see them as he sees them, with love and mercy and compassion. Did I miss a chance again?