tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49936735800833172522024-03-01T21:38:20.815-08:00U.S. Family WalkAn exploration of my family's walk across the United States from Ventura, CA to Yorktown, VA. 3,062 miles from Sea to Shining Sea. Beginning on September, 22, 1986 and completed on June 5th, 1987.Allen Huffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00983597027235870064noreply@blogger.comBlogger24125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4993673580083317252.post-25066282063228871662013-12-12T11:50:00.001-08:002013-12-12T11:50:32.364-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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If you're visiting this site for the first time, I invite you to select the month of May, 2012 found to the right of this page. The first day begins on May 19th.</div>
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Many people have asked over the years what my brother Aaron and I did for schooling during the Walk.<br />
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My Dad, Richard, was a teacher in the nearby Santa Barbara community of Goleta, California for more than 40 years. When I was a toddler back in the mid 70's, he took a sabbatical from teaching and obtained his masters degree and administrative credential at the University of California Santa Barbara.<br />
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My parents approached the independent studies program with our local school district in Ventura. They requested that our school district admit Aaron and me into the program so that we could undertake our goal of walking across the U.S. At first the district denied my parents request stating that the program was rarely used and that it was designed for children in the television and motion picture industry. Dad then appealed to them in the pocket book. He told the district that he was more than happy to pull Aaron and me out of the district and start his own school because of his administrative and teaching credentials and my Mom's teaching credential as well. He just thought that they might like to have the state funding for Aaron and me. Dad proposed that they approve curriculum for the 6 and 8th grades along with our daily journals being graded for English credit. After this suggestion from my Dad, the district was more than happy to accommodate our unique situation.<br />
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During the summer leading up to the Walk, I completed a substantial amount of schoolwork. This would prove helpful during our trip. Many of our evenings after walking all day, required that we do our schoolwork. When an assignment or book was completed with my parents guidance, we would mail the work back to Ventura for grading. New assignments and our grades would be mailed to us via general delivery to a post office in an upcoming town or community. This allowed Aaron and me to remain on schedule academically and move back into our schools when we returned from our adventure. I started high school and Aaron started middle school in the 7th grade the following September of 1987.</div>
Allen Huffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00983597027235870064noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4993673580083317252.post-53306163154285956102013-10-19T13:29:00.002-07:002013-12-12T11:50:10.269-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Within a few minutes, Bill came bounding into the lobby of McDonald Funeral Home. His persona filled the room. Despite not seeing each other for 25 years, he greeted me with a warm embrace and showed the same welcome to Cathleen. After introductions, Bill invited us over to his new home a block away. After a short walk down the street, we were sipping iced tea in Bill and Joy's living room.</div>
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As you can imagine, we had a lot to talk about! Bill told us that he is still involved in the family business, but that his son Ryan is now running most of the daily operations. Along with those responsibilities, Ryan and his family have now moved into the big old house directly next to the funeral home. Bill and Joy lived there along with Ryan and his siblings when we were walking across America back in 1987. The house was built before the Civil War.<br />
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Bill asked us if he could call the local newspaper to let them know that one of the Huffs was back in Centerville. I said, "Sure, I'd love to talk with them." Soon we were all standing on the sidewalk in front of McDonald Funeral Home talking with Bradley A. Martin, the editor of Centerville's Hickman County Times. The newspaper is published every Monday and serves a county of roughly 25,000 people. After a short interview and some photos, Cathleen and I said our farewell's and continued down the road. I really enjoyed catching up with the McDonald's after so many years. Cathleen and I will definitely keep in touch with them.<br />
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A few miles past Centerville, we came across the Natchez Trace Parkway. On our original walk, after completely a 4 mile segment, Mom and Dad had driven us a couple miles back in order to explore the historic parkway. The parkway is a beautiful stretch of land with green rolling hills and lush forests. A couple miles down the parkway was a section of the original Indian trail that can be walked on. So Dad and Mom had us all walk about an eighth of a mile on it.<br />
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Many times after my Grandparents had left us back in Eastern Arizona, we had benefited from the use of a car, not just for protection, but because it allowed us to see surrounding countryside and historic points of interest. This would not have been possible without the benefit of a car. The Natchez Trace Parkway was one such experience. </div>
Allen Huffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00983597027235870064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4993673580083317252.post-7020036758378067062013-03-05T14:26:00.004-08:002013-10-19T13:30:08.646-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Sleeping in the funeral home above the morgue turned out to be really cool. The night I moved in, there were actually no dead bodies, but I could not quite shake the nervousness in my stomach. I imagined I was staying in my own motel room and so the night passed smoothly. My nightly prayers took on more urgency then they probably did most nights back then.</div>
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On the second night staying in the mortician's apartment, I had a dream that a dead body was being moved into the funeral home. Suddenly there was a loud crash. I bolted upright, my heart racing. I heard voices. One of the voices uttered an oath because apparently, while moving a body into the morgue, it had been dropped on the floor. "Mrs. Wilson's not gonna to be too happy about this!," I heard one of the voices say.<br />
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The dream seemed so real! I inquired from Mr. McDonald whether any "guests" had moved into the funeral home the night before. I was informed that there were two. I imagined the theme to the "Twilight Zone" in my 14 year old head.<br />
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Today, Cathleen and I were visiting Centerville. Could it be possible that Bill McDonald was still running McDonald Funeral Home? Cathleen and I figured out that the McDonald Funeral Home was just off the main square. Soon I was anxiously hopping out the car with Cathleen trying to keep up. Inside the funeral home an young women greeted us pleasantly and an older man stood behind her. He asks in a friendly voice what they could do to help us. I grinned from ear to ear and said that I was looking for Bill McDonald. I quickly explained that I was revisiting the town we had stayed in 25 years before as we were walking from California to Virginia. I was soon on the phone talking to Bill himself!</div>
Allen Huffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00983597027235870064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4993673580083317252.post-74882023027138004122012-11-29T15:53:00.001-08:002013-03-05T14:25:51.155-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Cathleen and I arrived into Centerville, TN around midnight. We had traveled from central Arkansas the day before, and I was looking forward to the prospect of reconnecting with the McDonald family.<br />
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Our 1986-'87 Walk really was a journey of discovery. We kept our minds open to whom we might run across or meet in the small towns across rural America. The first Tennessee town we walked through was called Bolivar. We had stayed in the Bolivar Inn for a couple of nights. One evening after walking, we ate at Austin's Restaurant where met Rick Kee, the general manager. It turns out that he had bicycled from Tennessee to Los Angeles and could relate with some of what we had been up against. Rick turned out to be very helpful to us by referring us to various friends and colleagues who could provide us a safe place to camp during the next couple of weeks from western to central Tennessee.<br />
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On Saturday April 11, 1987, my Dad and I were walking a segment east of Parsons when a man rode up on his bicycle. He asked in a European accent whether we knew of or happened to be the people walking across America. The young man introduced himself as Ben from Austria. He had ridden his bike all the way from Alaska and was on his way to Florida! As we were chatting by the side of the road, another man pulled up across the street and walked over to where we were standing. He introduced himself as Harold Fasmire. Harold and Rick Kee were friends in Bolivar. Rick had given Harold advice on how to finance his own bicycle ride to Florida!<br />
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Harold then recommended that Ben head to some friends of his at the McDonald Funeral Home in Centerville about 35 miles down the road. He said that they would take care of him for the night. Coincidentally, Rick had lined up the McDonald Funeral Home for us to camp in their back parking lot. Ben was pleased because he wanted swap more stories with us. So we ended up inviting Ben to join us for dinner that night in our tent trailer.<br />
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I can remember swapping stories with him and enjoying the intersection of our paths crossing. Bill McDonald, who owned the funeral home, was out at a function at the local high school when we pitched camp behind the funeral home. We met him later that evening.<br />
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Centerville just happened to be the town where all the signs for McDonalds Restaurants were manufactured. So at the back entrance to the funeral home, there is a sign that reads McDonalds in strangely familiar lettering. The factory presented it to the funeral home. Bill confessed later that he would tell people there are two McDonalds in Centerville...long pause...and one's a restaurant.<br />
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That night, Bill made the studio apartment above the morgue available to anyone who might appreciate some privacy and a warm bed. Ben was offered a room in the family residence next door because he usually had to sleep in a backpacker's tent. After Bill's invitation to sleep in the funeral home, there was an awkward silence. My mind raced as I weighed the new opportunity. I blurted, "I'll take you up on that!" My parents exchanged concerned looks, but then said, "If its okay with you, Bill, its okay with us. Behave yourself Allen." As if I was going to climb into one of the coffins or do something crazy. "No way! I'll be fine...When will I have an opportunity like this again!" Aaron piped up, "Uh...when you're dead!"<br />
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I began to privately question the wisdom of my decision, but I couldn't back down now!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">McDonald Funeral Home, Centerville, TN.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Parking area where we camped behind the funeral home with he familiar McDonald's restaurant sign.</td></tr>
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Allen Huffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00983597027235870064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4993673580083317252.post-27042117242802918672012-07-24T14:18:00.003-07:002012-11-29T15:53:49.300-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
There are few places in a America more beautiful than the back roads of Tennessee. Lush green hillsides give way to valleys filled with hardwood forests. Ash, Poplar, Oak, Hickory, Cottonwood and Cedar are just a few of them. The steady hum of insects fill the evening sounds of the forest as the sun steadily dives to meet the Western horizon. Lightning bugs illuminate the deepening shade of the trees on either side of the highway. The heat of the day begrudgingly gives way to the pleasant mild warmth of a Tennessee Summer night. A canopy of shimmering silver stars begin to fill the sky.<br />
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The rural highways my family walked stretch nearly 500 miles from Bolivar, Tennessee east of Memphis to the Appalachian Trail east of Elizabethton in the northeast corner of the state. The small corner of Mississippi that we walked allowed us to skirt the large city of Memphis and afforded greater perceived safety. </div>
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Soon after crossing into Tennessee from Mississippi, my Dad and I found a strange metal tower that was built similarly to the giant metal structures that carry high voltage wires high above the ground below. Inside the structure was a metal staircase. Some might call it a ladder. It beckoned to our curiosity. Such a tower would surely be off-limits in California to keep people from jumping off, but not in Tennessee! The tower rose at least 50 yards above us. We had to climb it! After we had climbed about 30 feet, the tower began to sway under our weight and the strong breezes would shake the tower without warning. Neither one of us was afraid of heights, but we soon experienced some healthy respect and concern as we neared the top of the tower. It was then swaying more than either of us was particularly comfortable with. The view outweighed our concern as we were able to survey the terrain for miles around. The tower was built as a look-out for fires. As Cathleen and I were driving, I was surprised to see one still in existence in 2012! I didn't feel the need to climb it this time.<br />
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We awoke the next morning in Centerville, TN. Twenty-five years ago in this very town, I had spent a few nights sleeping alone above a morgue!<br />
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Allen Huffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00983597027235870064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4993673580083317252.post-11399409139146908042012-06-22T10:22:00.001-07:002012-06-22T10:22:13.159-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Northwest Mississippi was impoverished when we walked through 25 years ago and it seems impoverished today. Cathleen and I drove past homes flying the Confederate Battle Flag and sometimes that flag was flying by itself. People are proud of their state's history, but in Mississippi, it seems that some are content to live out their own reality that the South is still separate from the Union. I did not stop to take any photos of the flags, feeling that it my not be safe to do so.<br />
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The terrain is primarily flat with rolling hills. Trees cover most of the land where crops are not planted. The air is humid. As a kid, I wrote in my journal that we walked past occasional bayous. Dad and I were walking a segment through a small black community when I saw a kid playing basketball. The basketball hoop that was made out of an old plastic milk box attached to a pole with a plywood back board. I felt that it was so clever. I wrote about feeling guilty because I had a beautiful fiberglass backboard and basketball court that my father had built for Aaron and me back home. It was arguably the best in the neighborhood, and I used it only occasionally. I felt homesick, but I also wanted to join the kid and check out his homemade court.<br />
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Cathleen and I stopped in Holly Springs, MS to take some pictures of the town square. It was patriotically decorated with American flags because of Memorial Day a couple of days prior and the upcoming 4th of July. The town seemed deserted at about 7pm in the evening, but for some black young adults socializing just off the square. I passed them with a nod and a smile and continued walking to a better vantage point to snap pictures of the historic town.<br />
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Holly Springs had housed several Union generals during the Civil War. My family had attended a Presbyterian church that was built before the Civil War. The story goes that locals had begged the Union Generals to spare their beautiful church. It still had a slave gallery where African American slaves would have sat during Sunday services. It seemed strange to be standing in this town again with so much history. As I stood thinking about the past, one of the men who had been socializing just off the square approached me from the back and asked why I was taking pictures. I smiled and said that I was taking pictures of their historic town. He said, "Oh, its got a lot of history all right! Its historic!" He and a woman with him, continued on down the street.<br />
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As I was walking back to the car, the woman ran back to me and started telling me about how hungry she was and how she had lost her job. I asked her where her man was and she just mumbled that he was somewhere else. Regardless of her motives, I felt compassion and reached to give her my last couple of bucks.<br />
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As I walked back to my car, I felt like I was being watched. About five minutes out of town a Chrysler 300 with all tinted windows rapidly approached our car from behind. It slowed and began to tailgate our car with its hazard lights on. The road was empty and it was in an area with a passing yellow dotted line. My senses were instantly heightened. I knew that I was not going to pull over, but strangely didn't feel any fear. After a couple of miles, the car pulled around us and whizzed off. A few minutes passed and suddenly the Chrysler was speeding towards us and back into Holly Springs.<br />
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It saddens me to think racism and ignorance still exists. This is perhaps more obvious in an area where some people are content to pretend that the Confederacy won the Civil War and slavery should still be legal.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Watching us watching him.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Driving into Holly Springs</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Courthouse in Holly Springs</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> Flag decorated town square.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pre-Civil War First Presbyterian Church of Holly Springs, MS as seen in 1987.</td></tr>
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<br /></div>Allen Huffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00983597027235870064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4993673580083317252.post-22536552232933788642012-06-17T09:28:00.002-07:002012-06-17T09:29:21.729-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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East of Clarendon, my family came across the original starting place of the survey for the Louisiana Purchase. Originally purchased from France in 1803, the surveying of the land began in 1815 at this spot in Arkansas. Unfortunately for the surveyors, it was in the middle of a swamp. Because of our crisscrossing segments with the car, we were able to drive the two miles off our course to see the monument.<br />
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When Cathleen and I drove to the same place, the water level was two feet lower than it had been 25 years ago. We learned from a friendly Arkansan that Arkansas was suffering from a bad drought, despite all the swamps in this area. We stopped our car and walked about 1/4 mile on a special boardwalk to the spot of the original marker. I saw strange bubbles emerging from the murky water surrounding us and witnessed the gurgling of swamp creatures. A strange and colorful lizard ran across the path in front of me, and I quickly scanned the boardwalk for any snakes that might have left the swamp for a dry place to rest.<br />
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We paused to take some photographs and then drove onward towards Helena, Arkansas on the banks of the mighty Mississippi River. The same giant steel bridge was still spanning the river dividing Arkansas and Mississippi. Across the river, there had been nothing but open farmland and trees back in 1987. Today there stands a mega Indian Casino on the Mississippi side of the river.<br />
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I remember being so excited to be walking across that river so many years ago. It represented a psychological milestone, and I knew that we were only a couple of states away from the Atlantic! Our walk through Mississippi was shorter than the other states because we were purposely skirting around the city of Memphis, TN. We had avoided big cities whenever possible for safety reasons.<br />
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Cathleen and I stopped at a Mississippi Welcome Center that had not been there when my family walked. The people inside were friendly, and it felt nice to be in an air conditioned room. Within the Welcome Center, many items, articles, and pictures showcased the proud elements of history and points of interest.<br />
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A few miles down the road, we began to see living history that told a less optimistic tale of continued racial divides and the evidence of widespread poverty.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhULovcr4KFnjkwRwSyhEGGNB-_qeZDNtoDn_cAbenGr7Qu4b5tGeQTo4_fO_yQA4cTGkupngxEgNGZEG-87Or8qnjCgzDJZV8gE6UriZ9mmGEGbZ-Fbhte9u5-jo9QOv7N3fA2t1ad1flY/s1600/DSCF6605.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhULovcr4KFnjkwRwSyhEGGNB-_qeZDNtoDn_cAbenGr7Qu4b5tGeQTo4_fO_yQA4cTGkupngxEgNGZEG-87Or8qnjCgzDJZV8gE6UriZ9mmGEGbZ-Fbhte9u5-jo9QOv7N3fA2t1ad1flY/s320/DSCF6605.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Louisiana Purchase Survey Marker present time. Previous water level evident</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Original 1987 photo </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crossing the Mississippi River on March 25, 1987</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mississippi River bridge today</td></tr>
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<br /></div>Allen Huffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00983597027235870064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4993673580083317252.post-5252464392948323732012-06-14T10:27:00.002-07:002012-06-14T10:27:36.987-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Before celebrating the completion of my family's walk across the United States on the actual anniversary of June 5th, 2012 in Yorktown, VA, I had left our rediscovery in Texarkana on the Texas and Arkansas border. <div>
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It was March of 1987, and after about a week of walking, my family stayed for a few days in Pine Bluff, AR at a Comfort Inn. We again experienced Southern hospitality when the hotel placed a message on its billboard wishing the Huff Family safe travels on its Walk across America. <div>
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The stretch of country highways through Arkansas filled our ears with the sounds of frogs and insects. Much of the terrain was marshes and pine forests. The air smelled refreshing unless we were downwind of an unfortunate armadillo that had made an untimely decision to cross the highway and never made it to the other side. </div>
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As we walked into Stuttgart, AR, we could see miles of rice paddies and huge grain elevators. The city is famous for the number of ducks and geese that stop on their annual migrations from Canada to U.S. and Mexico. Stuttgart got its name from German immigrants, and one can surmise that they missed their homeland. I could see the fabric of America in the communities of immigrants from all over the world. </div>
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In my journal, I wrote that we had stayed at the Best Western Duck Inn. Cathleen and I stayed in the same hotel 25 years later. With all the changes with businesses closing because of the economy, we were surprised that it was still there and the nicest place in town.</div>
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A few miles past Stuttgart, the land changes to primarily swampland and marshes. The next major town past Stuttgart is Clarendon. On the way into town, we had walked nearly four miles of levies and long narrow bridges that had no room for pedestrians. For the last half mile, we walked a large narrow bridge over the White River.</div>
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As Cathleen and I drove through, I got chills thinking about the dangers we had faced crossing that stretch of highway. We stopped our car in Clarendon to have lunch at a little cafe called Bendi's Diner. They served traditional Southern fare such as fried frog legs and crawdads. Basically life found in the local swaps. They also served hickory smoked BBQ. Cathleen and I had fun eating food we would never have at home. We started with a basket filled with Cajun fried crawdads and Cathleen had frog legs that tasted surprisingly like fried chicken. Well... not surprisingly. I had a BBQ pulled pork sandwich and taught the friendly waitress about how to make an Arnold Palmer. </div>
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After an adventurous lunch, we continued eastward. The swampland became more dense and the wildlife diverse. The sounds of nature echoed in the air where frogs could be mistaken for the the songs of birds in the trees. Within this swamp, the boundaries for the Louisiana Purchase were conceived.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Duck Inn</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Narrow levies and bridges for miles on the way into Clarendon, AR</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bridge over the White River</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzOr6B00FffLI7a_xAg2HaZVZTJXU5zIU9a3Y1-tE0v4HiHW6bZQY_UxS8cddujS8TVhKTZR53j2orgPoyn2MrP67vQ82F8nekjoLx07jPgBpz2Mk8_slFoDIisomn7s55S_o9U4TQXakp/s1600/DSCF6600.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzOr6B00FffLI7a_xAg2HaZVZTJXU5zIU9a3Y1-tE0v4HiHW6bZQY_UxS8cddujS8TVhKTZR53j2orgPoyn2MrP67vQ82F8nekjoLx07jPgBpz2Mk8_slFoDIisomn7s55S_o9U4TQXakp/s320/DSCF6600.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bendi's Diner</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2o6pXMAqNXRs4hD27O0vMKXJHI6Yc2j_iW3dbPFUfCZ2t6g3m5cLQC20O9ZS0dmbymhcNd_pVEMkgiCq7QSCPDzKDTYFxbMuMJizIhDhPmsBst6qKS4WDqT2JhMNpF0L8hhUUUCZnvWgz/s1600/DSCF6589.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2o6pXMAqNXRs4hD27O0vMKXJHI6Yc2j_iW3dbPFUfCZ2t6g3m5cLQC20O9ZS0dmbymhcNd_pVEMkgiCq7QSCPDzKDTYFxbMuMJizIhDhPmsBst6qKS4WDqT2JhMNpF0L8hhUUUCZnvWgz/s320/DSCF6589.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Take yer pick. It's all good!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgesE0TAG1jsItKJq0wfSzpRoX3sWgtkmtuLVjIqOtbs6eQtTjXtiWNH_hRSUFwpeZMGClzM91MUn8stFr-TYnNaQXMO6eYLwZVn0PSEvJjr1shyphenhyphenEi4oansumvCVpxR3E8Byz81CA8EK5cG/s1600/DSCF6591.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgesE0TAG1jsItKJq0wfSzpRoX3sWgtkmtuLVjIqOtbs6eQtTjXtiWNH_hRSUFwpeZMGClzM91MUn8stFr-TYnNaQXMO6eYLwZVn0PSEvJjr1shyphenhyphenEi4oansumvCVpxR3E8Byz81CA8EK5cG/s320/DSCF6591.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDGq3AJy_HkSTOC2U6m1c4463SSJe2aR5bRi-IfHItoBZg-aowvFuPJQNb3LVcHjo-ZWtu8J9utmeHCZm4E5xBBXH1KtxOWK16hlWk2s6Isx421cEdR_06-S2fhLwNWR-lrVBCyJpUHXYg/s1600/DSCF6596.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDGq3AJy_HkSTOC2U6m1c4463SSJe2aR5bRi-IfHItoBZg-aowvFuPJQNb3LVcHjo-ZWtu8J9utmeHCZm4E5xBBXH1KtxOWK16hlWk2s6Isx421cEdR_06-S2fhLwNWR-lrVBCyJpUHXYg/s320/DSCF6596.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Has to be eaten with the right Cajun dipping sauce!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9E0pJ7qEHujW4YrmMhBQ6v7oVGDGOlIH4WcyJA9jFx9GWV3HgyX6onTx4k0Q7UQQMZFZLNqn8Yr3BMen3YpB7saBWL5_mLqfZuL_LNpHLSh0uMbaOoZJSyujDjxaTGgbQaaOt_t3YnqqH/s1600/DSCF6599.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9E0pJ7qEHujW4YrmMhBQ6v7oVGDGOlIH4WcyJA9jFx9GWV3HgyX6onTx4k0Q7UQQMZFZLNqn8Yr3BMen3YpB7saBWL5_mLqfZuL_LNpHLSh0uMbaOoZJSyujDjxaTGgbQaaOt_t3YnqqH/s320/DSCF6599.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Getting full fast.</td></tr>
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</div>Allen Huffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00983597027235870064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4993673580083317252.post-20284081416166508942012-06-06T09:56:00.000-07:002012-06-10T06:01:44.125-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-SkMLz9TGi45iqIpAnFz64VaG7CLY81c0zUcQ11j08ltuQ7XVyetgHSaZEfJLy3gguqNEPNZ7R8TVVvK99HTRu0fFUTpVTmPv_xTF8RpJyeUDHG6yi1LASNuFiQXcUfTDxatUcxVLi5tR/s1600/Walk-78.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-SkMLz9TGi45iqIpAnFz64VaG7CLY81c0zUcQ11j08ltuQ7XVyetgHSaZEfJLy3gguqNEPNZ7R8TVVvK99HTRu0fFUTpVTmPv_xTF8RpJyeUDHG6yi1LASNuFiQXcUfTDxatUcxVLi5tR/s320/Walk-78.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Steps from our goal at the Yorktown Victory Monument-June 5, 1987</td></tr>
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Yesterday marked the 25th anniversary of finishing a 3,062 mile walk across the U.S. with my family. As Cathleen and I were driving down the Colonial Parkway that connects Williamsburg, Jamestown, and Yorktown together, we could see the gray sky above us against a backdrop of lush green trees. A light rain fell intermittently, and it was considerably cooler than it had been so many years ago.<br />
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We arose early on that final day 25 years ago. Through the eyes of a 13 year old, I was in disbelief that we were actually going to achieve our goal that seemed insurmountable just nine months before. Grandpa drove the four of us out one final time to Jones Mill Pond on the Colonial Parkway where we had left off the day before. Aaron and I could hardly contain our excitement! We laughed and tussled as brothers often do. The occasional sting of the tenacious May fly hardly bothered us because nothing was going to hinder us today. A couple of miles into our final day of walking, the trees to our left gave way to sandy shores of the Chesapeake Bay. I remember thinking, 'Why couldn't we just finish here!' But no, it had to be in Yorktown. </div>
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My parents had chosen this location to finish our walk across America because of its historical significance. British General Charles Cornwallis had surrendered at Yorktown to General George Washington ending the American Revolutionary War in 1781. They could not have chosen a more beautiful and perfect location.</div>
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After a couple of miles, we were hiking away from the beach and back into the woods. The preview we had just experienced along the beach made us want to sprint the remaining distance. My heart pounded through my chest and anticipation mounted. As we walked past the Yorktown Battlefield and into historic Yorktown, the four of us stopped in front of a giant monument dedicated to the victory that ended the Revolutionary War. On that final walk day, the monument was symbolic of accomplishment and served to beckon us the last few hundred feet to our own victory.</div>
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As we approached the beach, my grandparents were waiting along with reporters and photographers. They were there to document this historic moment. Little did we know that the stories being written about the completion of our walk would soon catch the attention of the White House.</div>
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Yesterday morning, Cathleen, dropped me off a couple of miles shy of Yorktown Beach. This time, I had an umbrella in hand. The rain had stopped for good though. I used it as a walking stick. I paused on a bridge to look into the creek below. My eyes fell upon an ancient turtle that was easily two feet long and undoubtedly close to 100 years old. I smiled and took a couple of photos. I felt like a kid, exploring a world that is missed by the cars racing by as I slowed life down to a walk once again. I continued the remaining distance to the beach filming the road ahead and sharing my thoughts about taking the walk. I missed my family today and wish they could have been here with me. </div>
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This time, Cathleen was waiting at the beach. She smiled while taking pictures and video as I sat on a bench, removing my shoes and socks like so many years ago. I slowly walked into the waters of the Chesapeake Bay on the Atlantic, creating solo footprints on a freshly raked beach. I felt gratitude to God and my parents. I felt gratitude for the countless people that helped us along the way. After thanking God, Cathleen and I walked across the street for a savory lunch at the Yorktown Pub like we had done so many years before...</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_3Sott73ODu5vkwKZIHBIBczsqXbTVunUfWHgdtYzDmsv_QFPSuFbEZfu9z91ShH8Qk50oSeU2u6bG8TrsMJvE16IT7xJpB351mlSA02-eUz-RnJLV1I7ych29P8k1PdaKKUZlZ9m06QV/s1600/SDC10568.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_3Sott73ODu5vkwKZIHBIBczsqXbTVunUfWHgdtYzDmsv_QFPSuFbEZfu9z91ShH8Qk50oSeU2u6bG8TrsMJvE16IT7xJpB351mlSA02-eUz-RnJLV1I7ych29P8k1PdaKKUZlZ9m06QV/s320/SDC10568.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Colonial Parkway</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhSfuwkn5JObuiygc_hiLIEneo498XCUxGwtpgnb6wDh2vtkh9InbieSQgLCR8o-v80JnMhPRaWWaix9rjMYM9JoCxyz0Ft4WOXtCueEzColq3o8_60Gi2cDX6AvY17DnkVCwARW9c80dK/s1600/SDC10579.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhSfuwkn5JObuiygc_hiLIEneo498XCUxGwtpgnb6wDh2vtkh9InbieSQgLCR8o-v80JnMhPRaWWaix9rjMYM9JoCxyz0Ft4WOXtCueEzColq3o8_60Gi2cDX6AvY17DnkVCwARW9c80dK/s320/SDC10579.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Along the the Parkway</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh0GP4OtNPSPp8T002QBiXdTpV8rrSsaG7yJ6IqTAu9cAvGK1YPqt3wXfSKx3D15K1x8akgRtCMJNtfDEpqFTGgnAdnzg-q3yZhhp7-T-ErJLXVOIfns9FZ4IjpsyK1IM7sP-dIHzuPdMw/s1600/DSCF6893.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh0GP4OtNPSPp8T002QBiXdTpV8rrSsaG7yJ6IqTAu9cAvGK1YPqt3wXfSKx3D15K1x8akgRtCMJNtfDEpqFTGgnAdnzg-q3yZhhp7-T-ErJLXVOIfns9FZ4IjpsyK1IM7sP-dIHzuPdMw/s320/DSCF6893.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A few more miles!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSNd97pplcriP92d9h60PC2LCrUkQm_mdK2x6aj8fLjl5rdxXgLAgQllf5Czd3bchOo7fP7rf01igH6YsZh6AeErFJreAn0hOHLByRbjMvJr7VSVL120Oabj1gpF46XEURlyAZhKOv23fk/s1600/SDC10570.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSNd97pplcriP92d9h60PC2LCrUkQm_mdK2x6aj8fLjl5rdxXgLAgQllf5Czd3bchOo7fP7rf01igH6YsZh6AeErFJreAn0hOHLByRbjMvJr7VSVL120Oabj1gpF46XEURlyAZhKOv23fk/s320/SDC10570.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Starting place of the final day of walking. June 5, 1987</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6AVWBufGJxkHQdGadjiDQ67qgWEIpothj1fr6CY9yeOcjV6NipRXHwijZ707_TWTPzO56YgOaxP5aALRM8qilnU4rfScjuenSMRdH78D_PdxY7h5Mq2f2E6qfn083W_zysQgzAY5Wo2JK/s1600/DSCF6894.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6AVWBufGJxkHQdGadjiDQ67qgWEIpothj1fr6CY9yeOcjV6NipRXHwijZ707_TWTPzO56YgOaxP5aALRM8qilnU4rfScjuenSMRdH78D_PdxY7h5Mq2f2E6qfn083W_zysQgzAY5Wo2JK/s320/DSCF6894.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View of a giant turtle from the bridge above.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3WoyytJ73WCuxhOmZdGDzNAvoU9PtKK4pAHsi0qCUNHffNxyK1xRaQPwCmVm9X00jGj8eYD1wgiwED75DrxAVxtKdpsoyAQlKlrCRDyRp92k66IiSG9CBtStdJAc45yG8WWR9-QFMVO5d/s1600/DSCF6916.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3WoyytJ73WCuxhOmZdGDzNAvoU9PtKK4pAHsi0qCUNHffNxyK1xRaQPwCmVm9X00jGj8eYD1wgiwED75DrxAVxtKdpsoyAQlKlrCRDyRp92k66IiSG9CBtStdJAc45yG8WWR9-QFMVO5d/s320/DSCF6916.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yorktown Beach, Chesapeake Bay</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn4NeBvrxekuf0pSzBz-hVeRIJgrysp1uWrkQUemcb7gO4KEkVbsEiKyKxnQM3chAlGWm_D4h4GJ2ZF98dUCCXiVxb-ShrE_RpF8_GLax8NIMGMoKEVCZZxS9PE3U77wVFNpxV72Rjh8HN/s1600/DSCF6918.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn4NeBvrxekuf0pSzBz-hVeRIJgrysp1uWrkQUemcb7gO4KEkVbsEiKyKxnQM3chAlGWm_D4h4GJ2ZF98dUCCXiVxb-ShrE_RpF8_GLax8NIMGMoKEVCZZxS9PE3U77wVFNpxV72Rjh8HN/s320/DSCF6918.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWKSkagld3iPpOR36bWo8Gcokcl4_JHKMcaKUNFW0qkzqWMVThi8wUFPls7WNmSiquMnGyaia3EbM0MU-1dUD2nPwa1ufF2y5S1WNgA6HIb_cXC1mWwh8Bvvv2EspKX1i3d2UPJIv0KRYT/s1600/DSCF6924.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWKSkagld3iPpOR36bWo8Gcokcl4_JHKMcaKUNFW0qkzqWMVThi8wUFPls7WNmSiquMnGyaia3EbM0MU-1dUD2nPwa1ufF2y5S1WNgA6HIb_cXC1mWwh8Bvvv2EspKX1i3d2UPJIv0KRYT/s320/DSCF6924.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking down the beach to the north.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfyUrSvtGAY_v0cPCakuVnKJ8vpwx6bx06mwkA21aHn7zLEBEJj0SrAaMaJ4eCiJFr8wVnb7V-esPJmIvKUkvG7j63eV1LIKRlXzTzLmljr0iURXvXMvJJNvM8mT8QzvXRu9ggGETYK6K6/s1600/DSCF6926.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfyUrSvtGAY_v0cPCakuVnKJ8vpwx6bx06mwkA21aHn7zLEBEJj0SrAaMaJ4eCiJFr8wVnb7V-esPJmIvKUkvG7j63eV1LIKRlXzTzLmljr0iURXvXMvJJNvM8mT8QzvXRu9ggGETYK6K6/s320/DSCF6926.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yorktown fishing pier.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinViyIuNse6LBd7G4_ROrg8ooBNqnzG9fIo2MoJBKz3SlWyy6_CjugFhQ48vDIqe7gqDN8_SJHXEf2IXrhV410eijIEysE6ph5npa9Y5xgij8aZBzs0yb4on7zjj52qFS3fTau-6uStd6Q/s1600/DSCF6920.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinViyIuNse6LBd7G4_ROrg8ooBNqnzG9fIo2MoJBKz3SlWyy6_CjugFhQ48vDIqe7gqDN8_SJHXEf2IXrhV410eijIEysE6ph5npa9Y5xgij8aZBzs0yb4on7zjj52qFS3fTau-6uStd6Q/s320/DSCF6920.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lunch time!</td></tr>
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In a few days, Cathleen and I will drive to Tennessee and back into Virginia exploring the rest of the original walk route. More posts to come in the upcoming days when the rediscovery continues.<br />
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</div>Allen Huffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00983597027235870064noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4993673580083317252.post-13996055103375554162012-06-02T08:58:00.000-07:002012-06-17T09:32:23.063-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
This rediscovery has been priceless in so many ways. My original time table is turning out to be too optimistic, forgetting that people and places should not be rushed. With this in mind, I will be posting again on June 5, 2012 after commemorating the 25th anniversary of completing my family's walk across the United States. I want to assure any of you who have traveled along with us through this blog, that Cathleen and I will rejoin you again in about week. We will continue to retrace the last portion of the walk from Arkansas to Virginia through some absolutely incredible country. The tales and the experiences we are having continue to humble and amaze us.<br />
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See you on Tuesday June 5th when I dip my feet into Chesapeake Bay on the Atlantic for the first time in 25 years.</div>Allen Huffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00983597027235870064noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4993673580083317252.post-54422667861728384192012-05-31T12:51:00.001-07:002012-06-03T01:49:04.744-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Texarkana is a unique place. The city exists in the two states of Texas and Arkansas. The shared attribute that each proud state shared was the U.S. Post Office which sits on the boundary of both states. In front of the post office, there is a tribute to the heritage of both states. One can stand in the middle of the stairs and be in both Texas and Arkansas simultaneously. The grand Federal Building towers behind like a proud uncle reminding the children that Uncle Sam's watching.<br />
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Every week, it was my parents custom to take us kids to a new church in whatever community we happened to be staying. This particular Sunday, my family was in Texarkana. We had met a man named Dr. Dan Bookout at a Kiwanis Club luncheon that we had been invited to attend. Dr. Bookout had set more international aviation records than any other person alive at that time. Dr. Bookout invited us to attend his church called Rose Hill Church of Christ. After church he invited us to join him for lunch. So Aaron and I dressed in our Sunday best. Dad drove us to the famous post office, and my brother and I stood on either side of the state marker. I was in Texas and Aaron represented Arkansas, our new state to explore. Cathleen and I paused to remember that historical social science lesson experience that Aaron and I had enjoyed.<br />
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Dr. Bookout invited us out to his hanger to see his plane, the "Texarkana Baby." We were driven out to his hanger where we got to see his beautiful world record setting Piper twin engine 7 seat "Lance" with a six cylinder 300 hip engine. Try to say that three times fast! Mom decided to get some much needed time to herself and enjoy an interrupted nap. That day I think she missed out because Dan said as Dad, Aaron, and I gawked at the incredible flying machine, "We can't go anywhere unless you get in!" Up into the air we soared and viewed the terrain far beneath us that we had taken days to traverse on foot. He took us over the mighty Red River into Oklahoma and over Texarkana. The three of us were on cloud nine!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm in Texas and Aaron's in Arkankas</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Texarkana U.S. Post Office</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Texarkana Baby!</td></tr>
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<br /></div>Allen Huffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00983597027235870064noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4993673580083317252.post-51638546466921717572012-05-30T09:27:00.000-07:002012-05-31T11:28:08.990-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Our family continued to walk eastward out of Denton, TX. A couple days down the road, we had passed through the town of Greenville, TX. One afternoon during the last segment of the day, I could see our car in the distance. I decided sprint the last 1/2 mile and suddenly my weight came on my ankle instead of my foot. I howled in pain and dropped to the grassy shoulder about 100 yards from the car. I could not get up. I needed my Dad to lift me up, and I hopped to the car in agony. My ankle instantly began to swell. When arrived back at our motel in Greenville, my Mom carefully wrapped my ankle with an ace bandage and an ice pack. The next day my parents asked me to walk back and forth across our room to see how my ankle was holding up. I could only manage to limp, feeling intense pain in my ankle.<br />
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Suddenly we faced the reality that I could no longer continue, and we had to stop for me to heal. We took the next couple days and drove a couple of hours to the city of Longview, TX. My Dad had a college buddy named "Bud" who lived there. Bud and Sammy Austin had invited us to come over to their home for dinner. Bud had become the president of LeTourneau University at the time.<br />
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A couple of days later, I was well enough to continue. We drove back to the mile marker where we had left off east of Greenville and continued east. I wish I still had the same resiliency at 39 that did at 14! We walked six miles that day. I had a little trouble, but got through it.<br />
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As Cathleen and I drove on, we found the approximate spot where I had sprained my ankle and stopped to snap a picture. About an hour later, we stopped to take a picture in Paris. Paris, TX that is. While I was standing by the sign. An older man in a Ford pickup stopped in the middle of the road and yelled out in a heavy Texas drawl, "Y'all need he'p!?" I replied, " No sir, we stopped to take a photo." He yelled out, "Ok! I thought y'all needed some he'p! In Texas, We he'p people! Not like people in the big cities!" I was amazed! The same southern hospitality still existed today. It seems like some younger folks these days would be content to snap a picture of someone stranded on the side of the road, post it to Facebook, and then drive on without saying a thing.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The approximate spot where I sprained my ankle back in 1987</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">While taking this photo, a man stopped to try and help us.</td></tr>
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We were soon nearing the border with Arkansas. The city of Texarkana lies in Texas and Arkansas. Twenty-five years ago, my family would meet the man with the most world records in flight at the time and find ourselves staring at the route we had walked from thousands of feet in the air!</div>Allen Huffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00983597027235870064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4993673580083317252.post-63604767067266785522012-05-29T10:01:00.001-07:002012-05-29T10:01:47.503-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Snyder, Texas became one of the many highlights of my family's walk across America. It's a city with character and friendly folks. On January 16, 1987, after spending the night at Royal RV Park in Snyder, we found two to three inch icicles hanging from the canvas on our tent trailer. Dad remarked that our little electric heater worked full tilt all night long to keep us warm. Dad and Mom decided to get us a motel room for the remainder of our time in Snyder because the ice storm was bitterly cold.<div>
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Art and Helen Feinsod owned the Purple Sage Motel at the east end of town. The rooms were comfortable, and their hospitality would make the town of Snyder proud. Mr. Feinsod had small collection of vintage cars that included a 1929 Ford Model A and a gorgeous 1939 Buick convertible. I wrote in my journal that he let me drive both cars on a Sunday afternoon out on a dirt country road. I was in heaven as a 14 year old. We had attended church with them and their 2 children Virgil and Celia.</div>
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We also had dinner with another innkeeper in town named Jack Pointeau. His family gained national notoriety back in 1989 because they were almost deported back to their native France. It had something to do with red tape and our broken immigration policies. They owned a business, employed other American workers, paid taxes, and they were embraced by the Snyder community. Their story had a good ending because they were eventually allowed to stay, and I believe they became U.S. citizens.</div>
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Snyder had an old drugstore on its town square with an old fashioned soda fountain. My Mom especially missed getting a soda from the town drugstore as a kid. She had fond memories of getting old fashioned soda growing up in the late '40s and early 50's. So Snyder, TX also provided us with a much appreciated first soda fountain experience. Across the street from the old drugstore, there is a statue of a rare albino buffalo that sits on the county courthouse lawn. Mom, Aaron, and I posed for a picture in front the buffalo. </div>
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So on Saturday, Cathleen and I raced to find as many things from my original account that still remained in Snyder. I remembered right where the soda fountain had been, but there didn't seem to be a drugstore anymore. We stepped into Pam Robertson's Mason Jar Mercantile Gifts & Antiques. It was a charming little store, and the owner was just as sweet. She was talking to a young woman named Baylee Lewis. We explained why I was looking for the soda fountain and about my family's "Walk." They both opened their mouths in surprise. I quickly shared about my family's adventure. Both women were amazed and shared a nice conversation with us before directing us to the other end of the block where she thought we could get some information on what happened to the drugstore. The original soda fountain now sits in a theater across the square and is only open during shows and plays. We also learned Helen Feinsod's home number and we gave her a call. </div>
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A few minutes later, we were happily reunited with Helen and her daughter Celia, sharing old memories. Helen no longer owns the Purple Sage, but she and her daughter own a laundromat called "Wash Happening" and a party room known as "The Gathering Spot." Helen was very interested in reconnecting with my Mom who still runs a laundromat on Ventura Ave back home. I'm glad they will be talking after so many years of losing contact.</div>
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Cathleen and I were soon driving towards the "Walk's" half way point of Denton, TX. We stopped in the historic town of Albany where there is still a working soda fountain, and I had a chocolate soda. It was delicious. We stopped to take some pictures of a Hickory BBQ restaurant my family had eaten at when we walked through. It was closed until 6 PM and we had to press on. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After the ice storm</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">White buffalo 1987</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Today's buffalo</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Remembering the fallen in Snyder, TX for Memorial Day</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chatting with Pam and Baylee</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Where the old soda fountain used to be.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Reconnecting with Helen and Celia Feinsod</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1929 Model A. Look who's driving!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1939 Buick</td></tr>
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</div>Allen Huffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00983597027235870064noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4993673580083317252.post-60033321690490357892012-05-28T12:59:00.003-07:002012-05-29T08:08:46.105-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
On Friday, Cathleen and I headed back to Whites City after a good night's sleep in Carlsbad, NM. As we pulled up to the Whites City Post Office, old memories began to flood my mind.<br />
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I remembered picking up our General Delivery mail so many years ago. Mr. Jim McCain, who wrote the all original Star Free Press stories including last week's article, had published our Whites City general delivery address on the front page of our local paper in Ventura. It was two days before Christmas, and we had just hiked across the desolate stretch of highway between El Paso and Whites City/Carlsbad area. Two inches of snow blanketed the ground around us and walking into the warm inviting Post Office of Whites City was something I'll never forget. The Post Master was Jodi Tapp. When Dad walked up to the window and inquired about if we had any mail, Ms. Tapp got this huge smile on her face and said, "I've never seen so much mail in General Delivery for anyone in my entire 12 years with the Postal Service! Who are you guys!?" We had received five inches thick of letters from people back home. Many of the letters were from people we had never met telling us to press on and not give up! Many people were praying for us. The paper had recently shared about our breakdown in Eastern Arizona where we almost quit the walk. People wanted us to keep going! It was so encouraging, and now there was no way I was going to quit this goal with my family! My Dad explained to her that we were walking across America as a family. I wrote in my account that Ms. Tapp made us Christmas peanut butter brittle. This gesture made us feel so at home and welcome.<br />
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Small town America has a heartfelt friendliness that is still present today. You just might have to work a little harder to find it. Today's tough economic times have hurt a lot of folks. People are less trusting and more cynical at times. But underneath the scrapes and cuts of losing jobs, families divorcing, losing loved ones, and social media robbing the dinner table of family interaction, there lies dormant a memory of America's resolve to never give up and never surrender. America's greatness lies in the character of its people. I am ever hopeful that we will overcome these present challenges if we just place one foot in front of the other and not allow defeat and fear to dissuade us from pursuing our dreams. I thank God for this opportunity to visit America again.<br />
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Back at the Whites City Post Office, Vicki Wood, today's Post Master, greeted Cathleen and me with a big smile after I shared my "Walk" memories with her. She even took Cathleen and my picture in front of the Post Office. Matlin Smith of the Carlsbad Current Argus newspaper used this picture in a great story she wrote about our current rediscovery of my "Walk."<br />
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Please see http://www.currentargus.com/ci_20720784/revisiting-long-walk-long-ago to view the article in Sunday's Carlsbad, NM newspaper.<br />
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Cathleen and I said a warm farewell to Vickie and her assistant Amy, and headed up to Carlsbad Caverns. My family had visited the cave on our cross-country trek. It was mid-afternoon and the entrance to the cave was closed. The ranger informed me that we could still go down the elevator until 5 PM for 6 dollars a piece. Compared to other National Park experiences, that's a bargain! Down in the caves, a magical world awaited. The Big Room in Carlsbad Caverns is so majestic! God's handy-work is everywhere, even deep within the ground.<br />
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After a 45 minute rush through the Big Room, Cathleen and I were rushing back to Whites City to mail my Dad, Mom and brother postcards of the cave. The post office was closed. I rushed next door to a general store that sold local area souvenirs and inquired about buying some stamps. The man at the counter said he thought they might have some. After checking several different drawers, he asked the and older man who looked to be the owner if they had any. He tersely replied, "No we don't carry stamps for everybody." At that moment a customer rushed over and said, "My daughter and I have some in the car! We were going to write some postcards as well! How many do you need?" I gave her a dollar and she handed over 3 postcard stamps. That was so cool!<br />
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After mailing the postcards, we were off to Snyder, Texas and the next stage of our rediscovery!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nearing Whites City in December, 1986 with El Capitan in the background.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Covered in a blanket of snow in December, 1986. Whites City lives up to its name!</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">In the caverns, 1986</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Talking with the current Whites City Post Master Vickie Wood</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Vickie reading an old article about the U.S. Family Walk </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At the base of the Welcome to Carlsbad sign.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gotta love those West Texas two lane road 75 mph speed limits. I'm glad it was only 55 mph when my family walked!</td></tr>
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<br /></div>Allen Huffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00983597027235870064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4993673580083317252.post-35752364663060594582012-05-27T13:30:00.000-07:002012-05-27T13:30:13.477-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Thursday we headed off route to the little historic town of Mesilla just south of Las Cruces. My wife Cathleen remembered a restaurant called La Posta that she had written an article on for her university's student-run magazine. Cathleen graduated from New Mexico State University in Las Cruces and so this brief intersection had my future wife living in the city we walked through on our coast to coast walk across the U.S. 25 years ago. The restaurant looked the same and the authentic Mexican food was superb. We split a lunch and it was enough for both us.<br />
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The town has a plaza that takes one back in time to the days of the Mexican old West and feels enchanting. We were informed by a passer-by that the town is indeed haunted. Dia de los Muertos themes were present in some business and I was surprised at how serious the stranger was. It reminded me of an episode from the 1980's cartoon, Scooby Doo. What's ghosts were haunting this town?<br />
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After a nice walk, we drove to crossing over the Rio Grande River, but instead of finding one of the most famous rivers in the U.S. or Mexico, we found a drive riverbed that stretched to the horizon. There was no water to be seen. Soon Cathleen and I were at the Texas border. We stopped for Cathleen to snap a picture of me at the Welcome to Texas sign.<br />
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During my family's "Walk," we had walked paralleling I-10 on Texas Hwy 20 through downtown El Paso. As we drove down Mesa St also Hwy 20, I was transported back in time and remembered the wonder of suddenly being amongst the tall buildings of downtown El Paso. We had been walking for weeks through wilderness and small towns since leaving Phoenix and the sensation was surreal.<br />
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Dad and Mom were informed by my grandparents that my Mom's younger brother Mark would be on business in El Paso. Uncle Mark was living in Mexico City at the time with his Mexican wife Laura. We would learn later that year that she was pregnant with their first child, Gabriella. Gaby was the first cousin that Aaron and I had on Mom's side of our family. I remarked in my journal that we spent a few days with Uncle Mark. He slept on the extra bed in our tent trailer at night and he drove to his convention in El Paso during the day. Uncle Mark had driven our whole family into Ciudad Juarez, Mexico across the International boarder from El Paso, TX. He had to check on a rental car or something. Drivers in that city were were wild. Cars swerved in front of other others and stopped suddenly with no warning. My Uncle Mark masterfully wove us through what appeared to be motor chaos. Crossing the boarder truly felt like being in another world. Today Juarez has the distinction of being the bloodiest city in Mexico with thousands killed by drug cartel violence every year. Uncle Mark brought us back into El Paso with ease and I was excited to be in another country.<br />
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After spending several days and more time than my parents had planned for for, we trudged eastward through the high desert of Western Texas. I wrote in my journal that we had walked to the little town of Cornudas, population 13. It was comprised as a cafe and store out in the middle of nowhere. May's Cafe served a "pretty good burger." On the restroom wall was a sign stating. "In this land of Sand and Sun, please don't flush for number one." The cafe had pictures of the many visitors to her cafe including President Ronald Reagan. The owner sadly recalled later that his photo had been stolen from under a glass table cover and she was saddened by that. May had opened the store in 1981 and we had been served by her in 1986! The cafe served ice cream by the scoop in those days. It still serves ice cream, but in pre-packaged ice cream sandwiches and bars. May had owned same place for 30 years! Cathleen and I enjoyed chatting briefly with her and a friendly Walmart truck driver. Then it was on to Carlsbad for the night. A few miles past El Capitan, the route takes us back into New Mexico.<br />
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The air quality was poor, most of it coming from Juarez and El Paso smog, as Cathleen and I continued our drive towards the Guadalupe Mountains National Park and El Capitan Peake, the highest point in Texas. We stopped to snap some photos. We soon were back in New Mexico driving through Whites City at the entrance to Carlsbad Caverns National Park before arriving for the night in the City of Carlsbad. Back in 1986, what was waiting for us in Whites City NM, truly amazed and encouraged my family to press on towards the goal.<br />
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On a special note, I would like to thank Rich Bolas of Your West Valley News for an insightful well written article and Dave Martinez for creative photography.<br />
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http://yourwestvalley.com/topstory/article_7eec2296-a684-11e1-b263-001a4bcf887a.html<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At La Posta Restaurant</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the haunting inhabitants</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Plaza de Mesilla</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Downtown Mesilla</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Present day Rio Grande</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Between Las Cruces and El Paso</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Downtown El Paso</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">May's Cafe is a patriotic place!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Friendly folks</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wisdom expressed over the front door in May's Cafe</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In Cornudas, Tuesday is the day of rest.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Outside of May's</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Below the Guadalupe Mountains of Texas</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The mighty El Capitan</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Suset over the Guadalupe Mountains</td></tr>
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<br /></div>Allen Huffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00983597027235870064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4993673580083317252.post-39147196038550733592012-05-26T09:48:00.002-07:002012-05-26T09:48:39.710-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Wednesday found Cathleen and I driving by Tower Mobile & RV Park. Our family had stayed a week there during our Walk. That's because the people were kind and made us feel at home. There was a nice lounge with a fireplace. We enjoyed doing our homework in front of that fireplace and spending time there after a long day walking. Aaron and I had homework to do because in addition to walking, we had our 6th and 8th grades to complete in order to be on track upon our return to Ventura. I recall spending Thanksgiving at Tower. We had t-bone steaks instead of turkey. Everything else was just like a normal Thanksgiving Dinner. I ate two or three steaks, and I still had room for pumpkin pie! The RV park got a new piano during our stay, and my parents delighted the folks by playing old songs from the 20s and 30s. I have fond memories of that place. Aaron and I were adopted by several "grandparents."<br />
<br />
Cathleen and I soon found ourselves in front of Our Lady of Guadalupe historical church in the little town of Soloman. I recall being invited by an UPS delivery man named Frank to attend mass at this historic church founded in 1885. My parents were Protestant, and we had never been to mass. Father Tom Warren warmly greeted the congregation and the "family that was walking across America." He said he knew Ventura well. He had served at Mission San Buenaventura and Our Lady of Assumption Church for five years in our hometown of Ventura having moved to Soloman's parish only one year prior! What were the odds. I wrote in my journal that the service could have been preached in any evangelical Protestant church. After the service, we stayed and enjoyed menudo with the parishioners. I don't care for that traditional Mexican soup too much. But the fellowship was great, and I remember feeling warmly accepted.<br />
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On November 28, 1986, Dad and I dropped Mom and Aaron where we had left off the night before at mile marker 5. It was a very cold morning with frost on the ground. As Dad and I were driving ahead, we saw what appeared to be a dead man lying by the side of the road miles from the nearest town. Dad slammed on the brakes, and we jumped out to investigate. As we stood over the body of a man, he suddenly jumped up asking us for a ride! We about jumped out of skin! He was a drifter. Dad drove him 5 miles closer to Lordsburg so that he would not pose a threat to Mom and Aaron! I gave him a dollar so he would have something to eat when he hitched a ride to Lordsburg. </div>
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Within an hour, Cathleen and I had driven on and I posed in front of the "Welcome to New Mexico" sign complete with an old tire at its base with a beer bottle balanced on top. Then it was on to the New Mexican town of Lordsburg. None of our original accounts were too favorable about that town. We stayed there only one night before breaking camp and moving on to Deming, NM, a town famous for its annual "Duck" races.<br />
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Because we were routed on secondary highways, our maps had us walking up and through the historic mining town of Silver City, NM. It's quite a a beautiful place, but it was 140 miles or an extra full week's walk in order to reach Las Cruces, NM. Knowing that it is normally prohibited to walk interstate freeways, Dad had asked the New Mexico State Troopers if we could walk the section of I-10 between Lordsburg and Las Cruces. Permission was granted and so we walked the interstate for the next few days. It's a desolate stretch, but vast open spaces make for beautiful scenery. What was in store for us next?<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our Lady of Guadalupe Church</td></tr>
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<br /></div>Allen Huffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00983597027235870064noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4993673580083317252.post-78764926558212557572012-05-25T11:46:00.000-07:002015-01-07T01:10:55.779-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times-Roman; font-size: 21px;">Suddenly an unconventional solution popped into my head. We could leap frog! Using a car,
Dad would drop Mom and one or both of us boys at the place where we had left
off the night before. He would then drive ahead 3 to 6 miles and park the car. At which point, he
would walk back towards the place he had just left my Mom. Mom and us
boys would walk towards the car now parked down the road. Dad would cross us in the
middle and he would continue walking to where he had originally dropped Mom. Mom
would continue walking to the car and then drive back to pick up Dad. Then we would
drive on and walk another section in the same manner and so on and so forth until it was time to
drive back to camp or our occasional motel. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times-Roman; font-size: 21px;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: Times-Roman; font-size: 16pt;">We would use CB radio
walkie talkies for communication with each other and for potential emergencies. At first, my idea
didn't seem too popular because the main purpose and joy was to walk together
as a family preferably from west to east. Seeing no other possible solution that would keep us all walking towards the goal, it was eventually decided
that we would take a bus back to Phoenix and fly back to LA. Once back home in Ventura, we
would get our car and retrieve our tent trailer from my grandparents. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times-Roman; font-size: 16pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times-Roman; font-size: 16pt;">We could
then drive back to eastern Arizona and continue our trek. Thus, we could still be walking
every inch of the way across the U.S. Grandpa and Grandma would join us later in Spring of 1987 to allow us to walk the remaining miles together as a family. Our adventure could continue and our goal was now obtainable! </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times-Roman; font-size: 21px;">We returned to the spot where we had stopped walking and began our leap frogging with the car at mile mark 269 on the Apache reservation. Our walk now continued towards the goal of reaching the Atlantic ocean at Chesapeake Bay. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times-Roman; font-size: 21px;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times-Roman; font-size: 21px;">Cathleen and I could see that conditions on the reservation seemed impoverished for many, despite the addition of the casino built in 1994. I could see that most of the tribal offices and services seemed to be modern and new. I wonder whether the casino has really improved the standard of living on the reservation though. We stopped at a convenience store adjacent to the casino. I inquired about how we might find officer Diego Garza. Everyone was courteous, but no one seemed to know anything about him. Then a young woman behind the counter brightened and said, "There's a guy named Diego who works security over at the casino!" My heart lept as I felt our search for him might becoming to an end. How many people have the name Diego? This had to be him! I ran back to our car and excitedly told Cathleen what I had learned.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times-Roman; font-size: 21px;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times-Roman; font-size: 21px;">Once inside the casino, I rushed over to the information desk and enthusiastically explained that I was looking for Diego Garza. A kind lady said, "There's just been a shift change. Let me see if he's still here." A few minutes later an older Apache gentleman in a </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times-Roman; font-size: 21px;">security</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times-Roman; font-size: 21px;"> officer's uniform </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times-Roman; font-size: 21px;">with a silver name-plate labeled Hooke approached</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times-Roman; font-size: 21px;">. I briefly explained that I was retracing my family's adventure and that Diego Garza had been on the Apache Police force back in 1986. He got a far off look on his face and said with a smile, " I knew Diego well. I was a probation officer and we often worked together. He did a swap with another officer a few years back and has moved east of Scottsdale, AZ." We shook hands and I thanked him for the information. He introduced himself as Wilmer Hooke. We exchanged business cards. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times-Roman; font-size: 21px;">I thanked him for the help, and I think that I'll be able to find him now. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times-Roman; font-size: 21px;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times-Roman; font-size: 21px;">Cathleen and I got back in our car and continued towards Safford, AZ. It was getting towards sunset. As we continued to drive across the reservation, I remembered the terrain as if it had been yesterday. Once past the casino, hotel, and RV park, the reservation pretty much looked the same. It was very rugged land, but so beautiful with the shadows of the late afternoon. Soon we came to the "town" of Geronimo. It was little more than a bar 25 years ago and was located just outside of the reservation's boundary. I remember dozens of out-of-work Apache men hanging around in the middle of the day back in 1986. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times-Roman; font-size: 21px;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times-Roman; font-size: 21px;">Now at sunset, I could see several windows broken out and doors off hinges. It now looked abandoned for many years. It seemed like such a haunting place! I thought of Quentin Tarantino's movie "Dusk Till Dawn." Warning...Not a movie for the faint of heart. Racial slurs were spray painted on the building, and I could feel that it remains a dark place to this day. I noticed a newer "Dish Network" satellite dish and a TV antenna. It seems like someone still inhabits that old place! Why they hadn't fixed the broken doors and windows or painted over the graffiti is a mystery, but they seemed to have the latest television reception capabilities. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times-Roman; font-size: 21px;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times-Roman;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 21px;">A half hour later, we were checking into our motel near Safford. The front-desk girl informed us that the Copper Steer Steakhouse would give us a discount if we mentioned the motel. She said it was mesquite BBQ. I remember with fondness how good mesquite BBQ can be because we had stopped at many such places during the Walk. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times-Roman;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 21px;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times-Roman; font-size: 21px;">Cathleen and I headed over there and enjoyed splitting a rib-eye steak. It was still plenty of food for both of us! The waitress asked what we were doing in Safford, and my wife started to explain. The expression on Ashley Lynn's face was priceless! She couldn't believe that anyone would do that. We enjoyed her service, and she was genuinely friendly. The food was amazing! We really enjoyed our dinner, and I hope to eat there again someday. The owners are husband and wife Parrish and Maureen. I chatted with Maureen after our dinner, and she said that my family's story was inspiring. It warms my heart to be able to share the joy of our adventure with people I meet once again. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times-Roman;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 21px;"><br /></span></span>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGToivqim3zhlCriLNaLqFapk3x7efDZwTbd-QOB3kMBfpAfCjRcR4oWwvtA0KhVbl5X8CggUmXn46tK41x3-R6_9tkS21hHbtq-OMMNErXrZYzm82sl3b94o-eqmBLDh5vnAoJ0oNMH3L/s1600/DSCF5915.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGToivqim3zhlCriLNaLqFapk3x7efDZwTbd-QOB3kMBfpAfCjRcR4oWwvtA0KhVbl5X8CggUmXn46tK41x3-R6_9tkS21hHbtq-OMMNErXrZYzm82sl3b94o-eqmBLDh5vnAoJ0oNMH3L/s320/DSCF5915.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Apache Casino<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuWQkyrbnvWPhkiP3c5MZFegwjc-fQdAdtZu1hwPbcG4je-U8nec4IDRNqU6xVBcFl4qQr8y7KJXr3Vun0E6btu7pId-KBoWxqFaoAeSJ_oWkLKaLg_p831vuRJf-uswoF49a3ufLQvqtP/s1600/DSCF5920.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuWQkyrbnvWPhkiP3c5MZFegwjc-fQdAdtZu1hwPbcG4je-U8nec4IDRNqU6xVBcFl4qQr8y7KJXr3Vun0E6btu7pId-KBoWxqFaoAeSJ_oWkLKaLg_p831vuRJf-uswoF49a3ufLQvqtP/s320/DSCF5920.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flags flying out front of the casino.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOvvjdIHIksT_CcMVGyYp5sDGw_rhFtlunDmzB463NGC4pg8yeg4cTDT9AhUBIJFM8QUeEvaoPhCLm2OMHdYgZKtMqNUWof1C97o-ea6Lq-ORjW31jNuY9i838rdWC0aYNmbuP-sAU5c0L/s1600/DSCF5936.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOvvjdIHIksT_CcMVGyYp5sDGw_rhFtlunDmzB463NGC4pg8yeg4cTDT9AhUBIJFM8QUeEvaoPhCLm2OMHdYgZKtMqNUWof1C97o-ea6Lq-ORjW31jNuY9i838rdWC0aYNmbuP-sAU5c0L/s320/DSCF5936.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the reservation</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsmDHZ-qgG_8DQSZvX6uNsZeBgUeRwnkQBBHTHJBgRhWT7IzJLSknuoyzsAEKIdi83P5fOJLVJMdYYSC7Yt1F1GZijhhhiTrTBXVbr_nfQm8G-L0S6VGEl3qyYcKIxE6Bcn3bx8Oo-RMNE/s1600/DSCF5940.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsmDHZ-qgG_8DQSZvX6uNsZeBgUeRwnkQBBHTHJBgRhWT7IzJLSknuoyzsAEKIdi83P5fOJLVJMdYYSC7Yt1F1GZijhhhiTrTBXVbr_nfQm8G-L0S6VGEl3qyYcKIxE6Bcn3bx8Oo-RMNE/s320/DSCF5940.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nearing the sunset</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie3fNrTTdHvdARktleUUcz2Fg7RgWJt7PbUFRjQzfF1YDVP2JUdvXgbOA-kb6R4qg1YIwb3tX3WPVmttCHTbqJBN1Ci5nihevnWcUvAsMpfVeDJ_PqA4HrtkzmoDdxdwF4S-9X_nvjBhY1/s1600/DSCF5941.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie3fNrTTdHvdARktleUUcz2Fg7RgWJt7PbUFRjQzfF1YDVP2JUdvXgbOA-kb6R4qg1YIwb3tX3WPVmttCHTbqJBN1Ci5nihevnWcUvAsMpfVeDJ_PqA4HrtkzmoDdxdwF4S-9X_nvjBhY1/s320/DSCF5941.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Apache Reservation Boundary</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFWaRiR7OYSAyCpgAEg1gW3SUWMkt3XfNXjM-hCpUwLG_GgIY0ZM7X8cl_jMdzdCuoU8trTebd8NSSoE0Ps-zBE892PhDCKGT1K5dXCtd_Z5Zvbj6MhlANrfbea14aMxkPe3tUsPIXcvQS/s1600/DSCF5948.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFWaRiR7OYSAyCpgAEg1gW3SUWMkt3XfNXjM-hCpUwLG_GgIY0ZM7X8cl_jMdzdCuoU8trTebd8NSSoE0Ps-zBE892PhDCKGT1K5dXCtd_Z5Zvbj6MhlANrfbea14aMxkPe3tUsPIXcvQS/s320/DSCF5948.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Good farmland just beyond the reservation</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggEpT-28qTu8nSp_BWMy7Uv1I1j2rSFPO_FXnUQTiGQPrhuE8Fa_o7zfxkKo5TJctGOc_DGZl8R-UYC3Bcg9jh9HsVCD_2mMUgZgp_mNmNKKWcXZlGefy-EqEZc-qyG1gr3DjtM-ZPU2_E/s1600/DSCF5951.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggEpT-28qTu8nSp_BWMy7Uv1I1j2rSFPO_FXnUQTiGQPrhuE8Fa_o7zfxkKo5TJctGOc_DGZl8R-UYC3Bcg9jh9HsVCD_2mMUgZgp_mNmNKKWcXZlGefy-EqEZc-qyG1gr3DjtM-ZPU2_E/s320/DSCF5951.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Present day Geronimo</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqK6NBoHCqcG2P5lcNPu9UrIegoHd1-P91mq-2T-beHBrb7FJh5Qu-IZV2ieEDtx5xIu6makUZi-n-GihL3g46y-NHIdb0QDaXwPUY7vPvSMM5Wl4qyneucXXOUgxp61gdnIZMCoL5e28N/s1600/DSCF5952.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqK6NBoHCqcG2P5lcNPu9UrIegoHd1-P91mq-2T-beHBrb7FJh5Qu-IZV2ieEDtx5xIu6makUZi-n-GihL3g46y-NHIdb0QDaXwPUY7vPvSMM5Wl4qyneucXXOUgxp61gdnIZMCoL5e28N/s320/DSCF5952.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A closer look<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU1UsPWULIlfdon5ODeqNwDdzqw3y0AVYBkInpUbM0rrHHM0hxmdxsfwnVKFwgt9sAvHxoosEndx5iFQYnoXP2kvcsdnHt49JolMiTv-1lL0hQ76JsNR_3Pwp7zeEWB8VJpTp0fIMdODJP/s1600/DSCF5954.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU1UsPWULIlfdon5ODeqNwDdzqw3y0AVYBkInpUbM0rrHHM0hxmdxsfwnVKFwgt9sAvHxoosEndx5iFQYnoXP2kvcsdnHt49JolMiTv-1lL0hQ76JsNR_3Pwp7zeEWB8VJpTp0fIMdODJP/s320/DSCF5954.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSWuGIFEDRg6JaPUHC7qdk2ktQ1KCMhlwSe-xDRwaG_dnQ3X5cHpsjM8sryenxvMt_6KQDwKPz0th3T7VjAJGSZzi538am5bUUZYrdbQqN6gKtX6jbPxb9U_jzDOYlTckx5sILWX1QdueE/s1600/DSCF5956.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSWuGIFEDRg6JaPUHC7qdk2ktQ1KCMhlwSe-xDRwaG_dnQ3X5cHpsjM8sryenxvMt_6KQDwKPz0th3T7VjAJGSZzi538am5bUUZYrdbQqN6gKtX6jbPxb9U_jzDOYlTckx5sILWX1QdueE/s320/DSCF5956.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Notice the satellite dish and tv antenna.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS0BfAxTEOzR7FxAxdswV7z73NFYlJ4yTklkE63h13akFn75-UvYrMe7_nridgU9Mxjmva5lLn_TO5kiUoCx8bhOz-nstVrKfIWGvZSj5_mEZ5tzYy0tBmO_n8Hw65QOb_W7OOCaslaq5E/s1600/DSCF5960.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS0BfAxTEOzR7FxAxdswV7z73NFYlJ4yTklkE63h13akFn75-UvYrMe7_nridgU9Mxjmva5lLn_TO5kiUoCx8bhOz-nstVrKfIWGvZSj5_mEZ5tzYy0tBmO_n8Hw65QOb_W7OOCaslaq5E/s320/DSCF5960.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Historical Marker for Geronimo</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig-62qhNirOlVwZxRHghBxmMwctKzZVrjUT5y_X0-I5OYAXSLFW2r1oEIVWXei4r-puy5Dvr-1xst2fesbcbHnQSY9XXQ7gssB81CCbE9nt-uqbw_Bkd2j3r2zA5X3pnE1jUg6O7R76THi/s1600/DSCF5965.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig-62qhNirOlVwZxRHghBxmMwctKzZVrjUT5y_X0-I5OYAXSLFW2r1oEIVWXei4r-puy5Dvr-1xst2fesbcbHnQSY9XXQ7gssB81CCbE9nt-uqbw_Bkd2j3r2zA5X3pnE1jUg6O7R76THi/s320/DSCF5965.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chatting with Ashley Lynn</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmyBFIkVaWrWeSqeEM-98AdlUtrv2kTWa2UQoiNh-z__KR-Sc1WoF2thrh8H0p2WBBCwsLxxKmtTGgvi6eje1ThQwm7k3WcYfH52YrcN6mnlruQemn5k4iJGVw1d0gzYE6e7C_BqvIujnf/s1600/DSCF5976.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmyBFIkVaWrWeSqeEM-98AdlUtrv2kTWa2UQoiNh-z__KR-Sc1WoF2thrh8H0p2WBBCwsLxxKmtTGgvi6eje1ThQwm7k3WcYfH52YrcN6mnlruQemn5k4iJGVw1d0gzYE6e7C_BqvIujnf/s320/DSCF5976.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Best BBQ in Safford!</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times-Roman;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 21px;"><br /></span></span></div>
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Allen Huffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00983597027235870064noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4993673580083317252.post-17981583351992033742012-05-24T09:39:00.000-07:002015-01-07T01:14:11.573-08:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
...My grandparents looked concerned as we crossed the street to begin the next phase of my parents plan. We would find a place to camp along the route. I remember that first day with the weight on our backs. I was so optimistic and determined! In the depths of my soul I knew that there could be no turning back. We were so done if we didn't finish walking across America. Everyone back home knew about us. These thoughts haunted me as an 8th grader! So we blindly pressed on. About 10 miles out of Globe and a couple of miles into the Apache Indian Reservation, there's an airport. My Dad saw some nice grass there off the road that he felt would make a good place to camp. Seeing a small white colored house with a police car located across the road from airport, he felt he could go up to the door and ask if it would be OK to camp. A man came to the door and my Dad asked him about camping at the airport and explained that we were walking coast to coast across the U.S. The man seemed to soften a bit and shrugged saying, "I'm sure you can camp there, but you'd probably be better off camping in my backyard." His name was Diego Garza and his wife was Sarah. They had 3 children as well. We camped out back, but they invited us to join them for dinner. We had a great time. Mr. Garza was one of the Apache reservation police officers. His wife Sarah taught 3rd grade in the town of Globe.<br />
<br />
We awakened the next morning toasty warm in our new North Face mummy bags. When Aaron and I emerged from our tent, the grass was crunchy with the weight of a heavy frost. It was truly freezing outside! After breaking camp and a quick cereal breakfast, we again loaded up our packs and headed east into the wilderness of the reservation. After about 6 miles, depression slammed into all of us as we realized how truly impossible our "walk" had become.<br />
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We had no transportation, no telephone, no means of communication. We were completely subject to the elements, and we were nearing Winter Solstice @ 4,600 feet in elevation. We were so vulnerable, and we suddenly knew it. I had stumbled under the weight of my pack, and blood was oozing through my sock. Completely exhausted, we kept on walking hoping to see Diego drive by on his patrol or on the way back home. But as evening neared, there was no sign of him. Dad decided we would camp there by the side of the road. He was about to pitch our gear over a small fence so that we could camp a safe distance from the highway, when suddenly Diego's patrol car rapidly approached. I flagged him down, and Dad explained that we couldn't continue under these conditions. So, we were going to try to hitch hike back to Globe. Manfred told us to load up the car, and he would drive us to a small motel in town. Aaron and I got to sit in the prisoner section in the back seat with Dad. It was a tight fit, and there were no inside door handles.<br />
<br />
Before we were rescued, our family gloomily discussed its options. Mom said she would quit and drive support. Dad said he'd buy a wheel barrel and push the weight of our gear in that. Both plans seemed unacceptable, because we were in this together as a family; as a unit. There could be no separation. Pushing a wheel barrel didn't solve our vulnerability issues either. We were facing the disintegration of my family's dream, and I was feeling defeated. Its at these times that the greatest ideas and plans are born...<br />
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To be continued...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKmP54dB4Y40bCbff24RzpiO2Qz9yPpO4BWcrrtjcwkgJefShiuIXXww41jm9OcrgPwA80U7tKpDnYjwiViBqkjhNBSzZa5uNOHwawRKaXYB0cbpdv73uzgAYJcIEJi2Mz2ZBjFS_8lc4a/s1600/DSCF5921.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKmP54dB4Y40bCbff24RzpiO2Qz9yPpO4BWcrrtjcwkgJefShiuIXXww41jm9OcrgPwA80U7tKpDnYjwiViBqkjhNBSzZa5uNOHwawRKaXYB0cbpdv73uzgAYJcIEJi2Mz2ZBjFS_8lc4a/s320/DSCF5921.JPG" height="239" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The former Garza house today.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHLhQ31lT8XmAPzsXJ9eSzUonOKIWYNNypyjeBPowT0zz2uga4FT2Tle9Z4RDnN_bkmn8bd4zaz3sZuTrn9dnD5hUngQL5ZC3HLU9sxdiBV9mm8cLPOBxcoyZWMINO-qkTNTIoHPtSfZIq/s1600/DSCF5928.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHLhQ31lT8XmAPzsXJ9eSzUonOKIWYNNypyjeBPowT0zz2uga4FT2Tle9Z4RDnN_bkmn8bd4zaz3sZuTrn9dnD5hUngQL5ZC3HLU9sxdiBV9mm8cLPOBxcoyZWMINO-qkTNTIoHPtSfZIq/s320/DSCF5928.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beautiful rugged Apache Reservation terrain</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ50SMNVPp86Lt9JMiBuAXcrOuQMQBz5WPSfavVRyqke7dMVjWywCXH1B1RaanZxc-ewzmHHgUyHLxgAmUrV2uS_bZwefawx2xX-L1O2NBE1URA2Gko7F-17v3c9wT7SX6RN8y2ngAUdkv/s1600/DSCF5934.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ50SMNVPp86Lt9JMiBuAXcrOuQMQBz5WPSfavVRyqke7dMVjWywCXH1B1RaanZxc-ewzmHHgUyHLxgAmUrV2uS_bZwefawx2xX-L1O2NBE1URA2Gko7F-17v3c9wT7SX6RN8y2ngAUdkv/s320/DSCF5934.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crisis point of the walk.</td></tr>
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Allen Huffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00983597027235870064noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4993673580083317252.post-17189081633880131172012-05-23T12:44:00.002-07:002012-05-24T09:41:19.713-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Tuesday finds us staying with my cousins Ivan, Tina, Andrew and Morgan. After a hot shower and farewells, we headed across the Valley of the Sun. What was seemingly endless miles of cacti and tumbleweeds back in 1986 is now a sprawling metropolis. Many sections of the road we walked were unrecognizable, but for occasional landmarks I remembered like the monkey holding the tire near Apache Junction, AZ. One section of Apache Trail aka Main St. now has an electric train carrying passengers to and from Phoenix and other suburbs.<br />
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A few miles past Apache Junction on the way to Superior, the landscape changed from dry desert to a colorful blend of mountains and desert vegetation. Some Saguaro cacti were 30 feet tall and it was breathtaking. In my original account, I talked about going through a tunnel where the lights gave off a 60 cycle hum. My family had fun singing "Amazing Grace" as if the hum was a bagpipe. On the day we walked in 1986, road work was being done and the road was closed to traffic. We had an incredible walk through a pristine canyon. I stopped the car to get out, walked a section of the old highway paralleling today's highway, and took some pictures. A few miles down the road, I stopped to photograph the strip mining that I remembered near the towns of Miami and Globe, AZ. Today the tailings stretch for miles. I'm pleased to see that so many are employed by the industry, but saddened that the land has been forever altered.<br />
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On the original walk, my grandparents said "goodbye" to us in Globe where we were camping with them at an RV park. It was getting on towards winter in mid-November and we were now above 4,000 feet in elevation. Frost blanketed the grass and covered the cars in the morning. Grandpa had recently turned 80 and the weather was too cold for both of them. This inevitability of their departure was planned for. At least my parents thought so. They had purchased North Face backpacks for the 4 of us, and we loaded them up with our supplies for the next 6 months. We then struck out on foot into the unknown and onto the Eastern Arizona Apache Indian Reservation. It was open countryside, and the weight of our packs were beyond what we could have imagined. My 11 year old brother was carrying 40 lbs and my pack weighed 65 lbs. Dad's pack weighed 100 lbs and Mom was carrying 50 lbs. Walking 20 miles a day without heavy packs was a challenge in and of itself. Something had to give!</div>
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To be continued...</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd5NqegRhxntK5CEg5GZkkZTx46bXkHhQ06i2JBSYasvz-0w69qD9_OgzAPZ_4BwWuLHKqGFRfXKCWfVqp28RyzqFVRrHNdqd1QC-MB_JMw_Q0GRVhkPHlaU45Ow4e6FcqkWqO-E_uKNnj/s1600/DSCF5816.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd5NqegRhxntK5CEg5GZkkZTx46bXkHhQ06i2JBSYasvz-0w69qD9_OgzAPZ_4BwWuLHKqGFRfXKCWfVqp28RyzqFVRrHNdqd1QC-MB_JMw_Q0GRVhkPHlaU45Ow4e6FcqkWqO-E_uKNnj/s320/DSCF5816.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That's one angry monkey!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijj6uu4NANB5hMV_1L-Kq9yEfcUq0VHcevrLRv8JAO_bhtxY5LdTzol7J07mv6Q2H0xZZrGOhtjKNT6U1iQ07Wf0PIQhXEpZff_InwEFNoqVwKuaqKJyhVe59Ay1tDk0zrlsUNyHqmBdPi/s1600/DSCF5827.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijj6uu4NANB5hMV_1L-Kq9yEfcUq0VHcevrLRv8JAO_bhtxY5LdTzol7J07mv6Q2H0xZZrGOhtjKNT6U1iQ07Wf0PIQhXEpZff_InwEFNoqVwKuaqKJyhVe59Ay1tDk0zrlsUNyHqmBdPi/s320/DSCF5827.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Approaching Superior, AZ</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0F5CXu9ak0d_E_5kvZ8xPmnNU-jJ8f5ubk4bMnnhmgCQ8DNE7sRpgDunIQIoLdbe9O20fXw7Pvk-o5jo60bGPgtYL5pAfoQeakCPeRKCiMKor2TeDQnGKvgq7OBf_7RzSaE97W9sqJ49U/s1600/DSCF5832.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0F5CXu9ak0d_E_5kvZ8xPmnNU-jJ8f5ubk4bMnnhmgCQ8DNE7sRpgDunIQIoLdbe9O20fXw7Pvk-o5jo60bGPgtYL5pAfoQeakCPeRKCiMKor2TeDQnGKvgq7OBf_7RzSaE97W9sqJ49U/s320/DSCF5832.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz-MPcIJjpolr7LTm8UkAK33qT0R_x9WHuQI0WEv8QNSC4nSUgCJ0z_ZHiAq_qb_FRWGvplY7luaIgtfVM7JX3tno0D4TypZ9NHl5khJilf-bsNnSM9q1uEeu97RCTA73yRAJsVbkfbdFG/s1600/DSCF5843.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz-MPcIJjpolr7LTm8UkAK33qT0R_x9WHuQI0WEv8QNSC4nSUgCJ0z_ZHiAq_qb_FRWGvplY7luaIgtfVM7JX3tno0D4TypZ9NHl5khJilf-bsNnSM9q1uEeu97RCTA73yRAJsVbkfbdFG/s320/DSCF5843.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaPYgCLaZGDUlM1pAWOE05b_l-W67HnvABr1VKzt4JULlzzI9-NKifaOpicINSFlnc85mnS-69cmSw2jXa6lHyY3Is2l2eG3OH7p4CMuQkU023t8o9pR9nBOa2hsp5HkONPoGbDReSbcI3/s1600/DSCF5846.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaPYgCLaZGDUlM1pAWOE05b_l-W67HnvABr1VKzt4JULlzzI9-NKifaOpicINSFlnc85mnS-69cmSw2jXa6lHyY3Is2l2eG3OH7p4CMuQkU023t8o9pR9nBOa2hsp5HkONPoGbDReSbcI3/s320/DSCF5846.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The tunnul where my family sang.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifc1P7TrqGK1XNsQOWQsSTZvadP1JfapNpLmWsPZqYBV6kPwww5y4MBiaa3beEb34mSyO4DdkKiSmwMAok2hFYbw7R5f0YDQA1f8DzDxQAKTDOW4OtOUdBP0yXh1H_4nOmY0B5XMB7TUWJ/s1600/DSCF5852.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifc1P7TrqGK1XNsQOWQsSTZvadP1JfapNpLmWsPZqYBV6kPwww5y4MBiaa3beEb34mSyO4DdkKiSmwMAok2hFYbw7R5f0YDQA1f8DzDxQAKTDOW4OtOUdBP0yXh1H_4nOmY0B5XMB7TUWJ/s320/DSCF5852.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beautiful canyon</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU1BVcD3805QODhri4CwusA8WnmZX5Fs66TxD1qCTyJvT40o9VK6avEEIj_1g8QgqYa5rG992wKO0pGLxdMSsDmURebD68cSXFTYbVCaxrEDTX9x53Uq5VMAUBgXmhGL8Aq1elSFAmHl-o/s1600/DSCF5856.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU1BVcD3805QODhri4CwusA8WnmZX5Fs66TxD1qCTyJvT40o9VK6avEEIj_1g8QgqYa5rG992wKO0pGLxdMSsDmURebD68cSXFTYbVCaxrEDTX9x53Uq5VMAUBgXmhGL8Aq1elSFAmHl-o/s320/DSCF5856.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The old road to Globe</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0sfaVNEWJeXSwHNQzMkKvYc1QGbWfA5QDHtjXrp-8w2F9G0pf4XO_IFtpj-iYROuqoQdTEhRVWjzbDVfwuTwurWdty7_p4kEun8nsml-tXOEELazc_Qptf2jwky_UiYSAD7PBCNE-aT7b/s1600/DSCF5873.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0sfaVNEWJeXSwHNQzMkKvYc1QGbWfA5QDHtjXrp-8w2F9G0pf4XO_IFtpj-iYROuqoQdTEhRVWjzbDVfwuTwurWdty7_p4kEun8nsml-tXOEELazc_Qptf2jwky_UiYSAD7PBCNE-aT7b/s320/DSCF5873.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Copper mining</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVGR11v94jM88ZVwc11KzMZ0-xIrqQCWnr8tya0aeADoaf5a91LiTspkkUwbG5ULuU2ANw2qJelCv4RTZ6cjfvD5CEtxo90czEPYi-6mBsAD7r8WcpUKFNLq5plSvanVY6_w4Z8OHrEzXG/s1600/DSCF5874.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVGR11v94jM88ZVwc11KzMZ0-xIrqQCWnr8tya0aeADoaf5a91LiTspkkUwbG5ULuU2ANw2qJelCv4RTZ6cjfvD5CEtxo90czEPYi-6mBsAD7r8WcpUKFNLq5plSvanVY6_w4Z8OHrEzXG/s320/DSCF5874.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The results of strip mining.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2xMkXVayuzRCys3BlKQHiUlKbTU2tcWYyFDww0PA4JP4mGm6Wpj0gsgj9nYot6MmQja7haca0ukAswKSJDiKsPrHlpnRt5ruSfNByibtQf8w8FYknLJ5RpicxcwG5vSvnXn5d-0HwJQV1/s1600/DSCF5878.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2xMkXVayuzRCys3BlKQHiUlKbTU2tcWYyFDww0PA4JP4mGm6Wpj0gsgj9nYot6MmQja7haca0ukAswKSJDiKsPrHlpnRt5ruSfNByibtQf8w8FYknLJ5RpicxcwG5vSvnXn5d-0HwJQV1/s320/DSCF5878.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nearing Miami/Globe AZ</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitcmBMNmgYZU0wQprhTliGjDgpiTVBHxmLhqd3yAtglkhcPvQIKoVJeYLSYgV7thASfsSqY5-6EGK4fILz7YnwEKd5ob_50uREqLzEFxqVsDWQ7AW3AKUB9aCAJvMe-2Bg9oi-PQWUwk4b/s1600/DSCF5891.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitcmBMNmgYZU0wQprhTliGjDgpiTVBHxmLhqd3yAtglkhcPvQIKoVJeYLSYgV7thASfsSqY5-6EGK4fILz7YnwEKd5ob_50uREqLzEFxqVsDWQ7AW3AKUB9aCAJvMe-2Bg9oi-PQWUwk4b/s320/DSCF5891.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Outside the town of Miami, AZ</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE3CYGZ1GwuIj9RAo7rChqpM2HtaKFGr904VL4qwGr9nKCiEMsfRNDiog_ggsNaiZVq4eLdzGnlFM27Bn80LY6kBI-xJwAbqnaKQ9-Xhb_NkIvfnfYTQBr6UeimQ1OBExrQW9ldAIjRiXF/s1600/DSCF5899.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE3CYGZ1GwuIj9RAo7rChqpM2HtaKFGr904VL4qwGr9nKCiEMsfRNDiog_ggsNaiZVq4eLdzGnlFM27Bn80LY6kBI-xJwAbqnaKQ9-Xhb_NkIvfnfYTQBr6UeimQ1OBExrQW9ldAIjRiXF/s320/DSCF5899.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Add caption</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1dk7Hmwt9OqvaI32HJa4ShTl6dNvlK5PQWmLbM4-_0R5bPECqmmVrJfRJqi-1Q-jCkAK0uZ4iHa5y4VMHgPdXy9jG51wpPX64LCVmPVhKVqx9mdcRjpgU2uD3Q4BBl43PFtMM0b3vMKel/s1600/DSCF5903.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1dk7Hmwt9OqvaI32HJa4ShTl6dNvlK5PQWmLbM4-_0R5bPECqmmVrJfRJqi-1Q-jCkAK0uZ4iHa5y4VMHgPdXy9jG51wpPX64LCVmPVhKVqx9mdcRjpgU2uD3Q4BBl43PFtMM0b3vMKel/s320/DSCF5903.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Historic downtown Globe</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Apache Indian Casino established in 1994</td></tr>
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<br /></div>Allen Huffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00983597027235870064noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4993673580083317252.post-54717996515565695922012-05-22T10:03:00.001-07:002012-05-24T08:03:15.749-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
This morning found us in Parker, Az just east of the Colorado River. We had a quick lunch at the Crossroads Cafe and then drove back across the river to the Wheel-er-in Resort. The bridge is in the process of being widened. Its right on the banks of the river and we had camped there after our long stretch across the desert from 29 Palms. My daily account expresses my enthusiasm for walking across the state of California. Cathleen and I stopped by the Parker, Arizona and "Welcome to Arizona" signs before heading east on AZ 95. It's 110 degrees outside, so we skipped our daily walk today. I recall that it was pretty hot even in late October back in '86. The desert is picturesque with Saguaro cacti throughout the landscape. Our drive took us to Hope, AZ and we stopped for a sign just outside the town that read, "Your now beyond hope."<br />
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A few miles down the road past the town of Aguila, we paused to take a photo of a place where a lowered car filled with teenagers slowed down to stare my family down. After passing us they turned around, came back slowing the car and continuing to gawk at what must have been a strange spectacle. Mom quickly grabbed some rocks after they passed. They turned again and passed us a 3rd time. If they came by again, Dad instructed us to run as hard as we could in different directions out into the desert and we would meet at the highway at sunset. I quietly prayed to myself. The car didn't return and our walk resumed towards Wickenburg...<br />
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In Wickenburg, I snapped a photo of the Gold Nugget restaurant that we had enjoyed several times when staying at the Aztec RV Park on the banks of the Hassayampa River in Wickenburg. A few years back, Cathleen and I had lunch there and I recommend it to this day.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lunch in Parker</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Where we camped along the Colorado River in 1986</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Modernization</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wheel 'er in RV Park's Colorado River banks</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With my beautiful wife Cathleen</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Its the same place we paused for picture's during the "walk." :)</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Add caption</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Where we camped between Parker and Wickenburg, AZ</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Good Eatin'</td></tr>
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<br /></div>Allen Huffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00983597027235870064noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4993673580083317252.post-51761643929762446852012-05-21T11:45:00.001-07:002012-05-24T07:55:27.424-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The approximate spot of the flying $$s</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Adelita's used to be Patricia's Cafe 25 years ago. The cuisine might have changed, but the food's still good!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chatting with Henry at Adelita's</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcRWDxe_5XQNmUNqI3kUE2IV-Jxfyb2w_F304OyyLXgcqj0zR52hzYx3ocumHd8HOMtYW7QVbwntTyHDDJKhgyu8953mN04BttV0LDL-weBVG7U4XAF_v7xqH0P7e-WqLXCNpOthVJmFQe/s1600/DSCF5661.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcRWDxe_5XQNmUNqI3kUE2IV-Jxfyb2w_F304OyyLXgcqj0zR52hzYx3ocumHd8HOMtYW7QVbwntTyHDDJKhgyu8953mN04BttV0LDL-weBVG7U4XAF_v7xqH0P7e-WqLXCNpOthVJmFQe/s400/DSCF5661.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pausing for a picture with Paster Shawn</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jackrabbit homesteads "off the grid."</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The original "Knott Sky Park" where we camped in 29 Palms</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguZpqpcBL4YVx_agB6FNJ56khhgE9C0vjJsVqld3mz2if9aLzvWIoqHNlQaQflCHLIf0uzkNGIO5rOu9YJ9PZS5O2OJql6nglOo6mt72SrkG9xNLD5jqYN7DOi5aop_2FWZInK2mARxdHN/s1600/DSCF5715.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguZpqpcBL4YVx_agB6FNJ56khhgE9C0vjJsVqld3mz2if9aLzvWIoqHNlQaQflCHLIf0uzkNGIO5rOu9YJ9PZS5O2OJql6nglOo6mt72SrkG9xNLD5jqYN7DOi5aop_2FWZInK2mARxdHN/s640/DSCF5715.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Preschool next to the park</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The sign doesn't lie.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Reflection of a partial solar eclipse above the sun.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZEWNs_YS_SdS06MsMtCsdnQnk7amwVQsyyeC33l2ZW33sxuWEssmSA-rem4DMrgYkEoP9D6xBQdsCii10KQA5wp6MJ0fde2Bia10ogBf0n5ahkSeajU8TadHKtD17FA_fz_tzilEzUS6B/s1600/DSCF5743.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZEWNs_YS_SdS06MsMtCsdnQnk7amwVQsyyeC33l2ZW33sxuWEssmSA-rem4DMrgYkEoP9D6xBQdsCii10KQA5wp6MJ0fde2Bia10ogBf0n5ahkSeajU8TadHKtD17FA_fz_tzilEzUS6B/s400/DSCF5743.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Desert beauty</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Near General Patton's old WWII training camp.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not one of Califonia's finest hours.<br /><div style="text-align: left;">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Good morning Victorville...Yesterday I was awakened in the predawn hours to heavy footsteps on the floor above me. So I seized the opportunity to snap a picture from our motel window over-looking part of the route we would travel...After reading my account for the original walk, I remember that I had spent my 14th birthday in this very town. Mom and Dad, along with my Grandparents and brother Aaron had celebrated with me at a Marie Calendars here in Victorville. I had been given one dollar for every year of my life and in 1986, that was a decent amount of dough for a teenagercouldn't be working his normal paper route.</span></td></tr>
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So the next day we were walking east from Victorville towards Lucerne Valley when I lost a $5 dollar bill somewhere. My Dad began chiding me and demanding that I be more responsible and "take stock" of my belongings. He was right of course, but his advice fell on deaf ears because I struggle even to this day with keeping track of my things...The funny thing is, soon after he tired of giving me an earful for losing my money so carelessly, a couple of pieces of paper caught my eye blowing about 20 feet off the highway. I left the road to investigate and found a couple of dollar bills just floating around! Dad confessed years later, that he felt convicted for his stern lecturing as if God in His infinite grace had given the money back to me.<br />
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We stopped in the approximate spot to snap a photo because it really was in the middle of nowhere. Once we arrived in Lucerne Valley, the town looked much as I had remembered it. According to my Dad's account of the walk, we had dined at Patricia's Cafe. Cathleen and I stopped a local man named Shawn, who also happened to be a preacher, and inquired about the cafe. He reminisced about how good that place was and informed us that it had been called Adelita's Mexican Restaurant for some years now. We headed over to the restaurant and had some pretty tasty fajitas and cheese enchiladas. The place now serves authentic Mexican food and its staff is friendly and helpful. We met Henry who manages the place and he gave us some history.<br />
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Driving further east into the desert we saw many "jackrabbit homesteads." This was one of my 8th grade vocabulary words from my parents. Many structures were empty with missing walls and roofs, but plenty of homes were inhabited as well making for hillsides dotted with various shapes and sizes. Soon we were driving through Yucca Valley and on to 29 Palms, were we gassed up the car and I inquired from a local sheriff deputy about a campground we had stayed at back in 1986 called Knott Sky Park. He wasn't sure, but soon another deputy drove up and she knew of the place to be a park and not a campground. She gave us directions and we drove out to investigate. Cathleen found the original preschool next to the park that we see in our videos that my grandpa took at the time. The campground is indeed a park now and looked to be a peaceful place.<br />
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Then it was out into 100 miles of nothing but creosote plants and Joshua trees. A partial solar eclipse was occurring too and I got a pretty good photo that shows a refection of the eclipse. We stopped and took a photo of "Allen Ave," a dirt road we had remarked about in our original journals. As we drove east, the traffic thinned and I could remember how many days of open space we had walked in the Autumn heat that was still in triple digits in mid October, 1986.<br />
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General Patton had trained 1000's of troops for desert combat against "The Desert Fox" General Rommel of the German Army in this very desert terrain we were crossing. Cathleen and I searched, without success, for the place we had dry camped back in 1986. It was near a dry lake bed that had been used during the previous month for a huge drug run. Unknown to us at that time, several federal agents were in position all around us waiting for another drop to take place on that very night because the conditions were perfect with a full moon. This allowed for airplanes to land without lights. The next day a CHP officer told us that we were being watched by several eyes. In their haste, the drug runners had dropped over a million dollars worth of drugs on the desert floor only a month prior...</div>Allen Huffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00983597027235870064noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4993673580083317252.post-18205986551342111972012-05-20T22:29:00.000-07:002012-06-07T18:49:24.407-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
After meeting my family at the beach yesterday, Cathleen and I drove a rental car back to our home to pack it up for the weeks ahead. When everything was packed up and some last minute errands were run, we drove from Seaward Avenue and out to Telegraph Road. Soon we were surrounded by citrus trees and pulling into Kenney Grove Park near Fillmore. My Dad's parents had joined our original "walk" to provide support by scouting out campgrounds and RV parks where we could camp for a few days as we walked the route laid out by AAA Triptik. Grandpa would drive us out to where we left off and then pick the four of us up at a designated time later in the day. Sometimes he would drive by to check on us and give us a scoop on what to look for down the road if he saw something of interest.<br />
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The first camp my grandparents found was Kenney Grove Park. I had not been back there until yesterday. What awaited us, as we drove through the entrance, was a place seemingly frozen in time. The use of the campground had changed from individual camping to primarily group events. Yesterday it was hosting a dog show. About 100 feet past a kiosk, a woman emerged from the nearby grass to inform us that the park was reserved for special groups. I briefly explained why we were there and requested to drive through the campground. The lady instantly smiled and welcomed us to see the place she had been leasing from the county for 30 years! Rona Le Doux didn't recall our short stay so many years ago, but she was delighted to hear about the "walk" and about our trip of rediscovery. She proudly showed me a vintage 1950's playground that she had preserved complete with tall swing sets and an old merry-go-round, the likes of which I hadn't seen since the 1980s. She proudly stated that she kept the merry-go-round meticulously maintained for safety. I am certain my brother and I must have played on them, so many years ago! Rona also shared that the campground now had full hookups and she was justifiably proud of the work she had accomplished. Kenney Grove Park is a gem, and I would happily camp there again.<br />
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Past Piru and into Los Angeles County on the 126 East, we stopped to take some photos of the old road we had walked just north of Six Flags Magic Mountain. As we drove through the sprawling communities of Santa Clarita that in 1986 comprised Newhall, Saugus, Canyon Country, and Valencia, we soon found ourselves back on the old Soledad Canyon Road heading towards Acton.<br />
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Just before an old bridge that crossed the Santa Clara River (the same river that divides Ventura and Oxnard cities), I saw high fences and warning signs about wild animals. Cathleen and I decided to investigate and do some walking...<br />
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Twenty-five years ago as my family walked this road, we heard the roaring and screaming of wild animals. We did not have the slightest clue as to why we were hearing these sounds and whether or not we were about to be mauled by some monster emerging from the nearby trees. It turns out that this is a preserve that rehabilitates neglected, abandoned, and abused exotic wild beasts! Cathleen and I were able to see a lion in the ravine below, and you can see it in the last picture post.<br />
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We then drove on to Victorville and called it a day...<br />
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On a special note...I want to extend my appreciation to VC Star reporter Jim Mclain, who wrote the original Star Free Press articles 25 years ago. Even though he officially retired 5 years ago, he wrote a special article about my journey of rediscovery. I'd also like to thank Juan Carlo Mendoza for exceptional photos. To view the May 19, 2012 Ventura County Star Article please see: <a href="http://www.vcstar.com/news/2012/may/18/ventura-man-set-to-recreate-a-life-changing-trip/">http://www.vcstar.com/news/2012/may/18/ventura-man-set-to-recreate-a-life-changing-trip/</a><br />
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</div>Allen Huffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00983597027235870064noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4993673580083317252.post-43078177507428555212012-05-20T12:14:00.000-07:002012-06-01T10:14:42.425-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From left to right stands Aaron, Richard, Allen and Susan Huff: The original walkers.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Praying for travel blessings</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aaron and Allen with son and nephew Daniel Huff</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Susan, Aaron, and Allen </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Vintage 1950's playground at Kenney Grove Park, Fillmore, CA</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finding a rare endangered species...there when the walk begain 25 years ago. The merry-go-round!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the route near Castaic Junction</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Original Highay 126, September 1986</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Patriotism is alive and well in 2012</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Magic Mountain countryside</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN8THTPnLzDP7Frd6ahpTp6sjCwmtqKuKq5-wmQxy23ApIWDYaWHL_OPeGcxXwooPKc8LyMx5nlTIsd2X7XBQ2SUgNV8Alz8bOHBL3xDpgHIJZhitrRltLPSaOKw5FwLCg0Ld7pdNo3JN-/s1600/Walk-07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN8THTPnLzDP7Frd6ahpTp6sjCwmtqKuKq5-wmQxy23ApIWDYaWHL_OPeGcxXwooPKc8LyMx5nlTIsd2X7XBQ2SUgNV8Alz8bOHBL3xDpgHIJZhitrRltLPSaOKw5FwLCg0Ld7pdNo3JN-/s320/Walk-07.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Walking out of the Soledad Canyon Tunnel September, 1986</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Soledad Canyon Tunnel today.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Soledad Canyon bridge over the Santa Clara River, Acton, CA</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Could this be where the wild things are?</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pacing and thinking about his dinner!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbqgy5eQ_jMEGPCjloTPE0QxqzT_Nlv0WJno3WxWQAUSPYb7jlmiw64DqGaQlBlPC2vkxsK0lMWuiTgI0UtVEk_PAg2a7mqz04QRweh8q687Q5pmyfMzU8pO2DxebwKAq93L4ieyUM7vk7/s1600/DSCF5630.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbqgy5eQ_jMEGPCjloTPE0QxqzT_Nlv0WJno3WxWQAUSPYb7jlmiw64DqGaQlBlPC2vkxsK0lMWuiTgI0UtVEk_PAg2a7mqz04QRweh8q687Q5pmyfMzU8pO2DxebwKAq93L4ieyUM7vk7/s400/DSCF5630.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> Dawn over Lucerne Valley on the horizon.</td></tr>
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<br /></div>Allen Huffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00983597027235870064noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4993673580083317252.post-66222387868462037942012-05-19T22:56:00.000-07:002012-06-07T18:48:53.784-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It's been more than 25 years since that September morning in 1986. My parents, Richard and Susan, led my younger brother, Aaron and me, to the foot of Seaward Avenue in Ventura, CA, where the sand leads to the Pacific Ocean. From there began eight and a half months of excitement, frustration, joy and pain. In short, real life with a new setting everyday.<br />
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Mom and Dad had decided for us, to slow life down to a walk, literally. They were inspired by Peter Jenkins who wrote the book "A Walk Across America" in the late 70's. He took five years to journey through-out the US eventually making his way out west to the Pacific. Well, we certainly didn't have five years! But what we did have was my parents dreams of showing my brother and me that God has his people all across our nation and that we experience liberty and freedom unsurpassed throughout the world. In 1986, it was the height of the Cold War and America's economic engine was churning full speed ahead, but not without its challenges.<br />
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Dad and Mom spent over a year planning and preparing to leave home, work, friends, and schooling for one academic year. America would be our classroom. And what an incredible education it would be....<br />
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Today my wife, Cathleen, and I met my parents and brother and his three year old son, Daniel, back at the beach in Ventura where it all began. Although life took many unexpected turns, including the divorce of my parents, we shared an experience that was greater than the sum of our pain. Because on June 5, 1987 we became the first and only family to walk coast to coast across the United States of America. The people and places we saw, forever changed our lives for the better. Over the next few weeks, Cathleen and I will be retracing the route walked so many years ago. It's a different world today, but our nation still craves hope, freedom, and liberty...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqjkRjD7kCTt6vtX6sUVY7E2esliBAKH23YYH2hHvYfAjCyfTiAyqlJ0ORduPV0L15mRZPASUb-tzXfMVSOBAvG8cGzWRFhWPRMK0eaq2qrbfPgzFoLx15yKKd7sQSoX9KS8SHkCb_NZrs/s1600/Walk-02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="193" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqjkRjD7kCTt6vtX6sUVY7E2esliBAKH23YYH2hHvYfAjCyfTiAyqlJ0ORduPV0L15mRZPASUb-tzXfMVSOBAvG8cGzWRFhWPRMK0eaq2qrbfPgzFoLx15yKKd7sQSoX9KS8SHkCb_NZrs/s320/Walk-02.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">September 22, 1986 at the foot of Seaward Ave, Ventura, CA</td></tr>
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To be continued...</div>Allen Huffhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00983597027235870064noreply@blogger.com0