CHAPTER ONE: BREAKING IN Point Reyes, CA to Locke; Days = 10 (1 rest); Miles = 164.

2; People Met = 22 Having organized plenty of long distance hiking expeditions in the past, there was no excuse for my part in making our breaking in period particularly arduous. At least the weather on our first day was not my fault. At 9:00 a.m. on May 25, 2011, Ky delivered us to Point Reyes where we were met by horizontal rain and temperatures in the forties. The original plan was to dip our toes in the two oceans, like most ADT travelers before us. We settled instead for dipping our fingers in before quickly taking off. First days etch themselves into your memory. I can remember almost every mile of our first ADT day. Certainly I can remember our first break, which did not occur until 6 miles in. Thats not a long distance if that is all you are hiking, but to wait that long before breaking during a much longer day runs the risk of wearing yourself down. We went that long partly because of the adrenaline rush from starting the journey and partly because we did not want to stop in the wet and cold. My nephew Tom lived in the area and we called him the day before to come join us. He could not reach us at the beginning, but managed to take a side trail in to meet us right at the place of our first break. Most of the Sinclair clan became outdoorsmen to some degree; Tom additionally had survival training through the military. As we were slack packing for the first few days of breaking in, carrying only day packs, Tom carried something with him we did not have, a cook stove. We stopped on a wooden bridge over a river with plenty of tree covering above us. Tom set up his stove and boiled water for hot tea, while mists and drizzle swirled around us. I learned an important lesson during that kind moment. Cindy's thermostat was always set much lower than mine, but staying warm is even more difficult for her now than when she backpacked in the eighties. Furthermore, her concern for staying warm would prove to be a source of stress that got in the way of the journey's potentially recuperative therapy for her. No surprise, then, that Cindy was particularly grateful for our nephew showing up and coming to the rescue the way that he did. As our journey continued she often thought back to that moment and

would bring it up. That was great when Tom came out to hike with us. I really liked when he made that hot tea. The kindness of family works in many ways; Toms kindness warmed both our bodies and hearts. Meanwhile, I would have to keep in mind Cindys greater need for heat throughout the journey. I am told that the Point Reyes National Seashore is absolutely gorgeous. We cannot vouch for that; we could barely see the ocean through the rain and fog. We got to a high point that I suspect had the potential to be as spectacular as the Na Pali coast off of Kauai if we could only see. Yet the lack of scenery no longer mattered as Tom and I caught up on old times. By afternoon our path turned inland and, of course, the sun then chose to come out. Ky picked the three of us up at the end of the day and returned Tom to his car before returning to our initial base camp for one last evening. Tom was another one of my brother Ernie's sons. All the support of the Sinclair clan was much appreciated, particularly Ernie's branch, but none more so than having flesh and blood come walk with us to start off our year long journey.

For any arduous long distance journey there is a breaking in period, whether or not accompanied by bad weather. I write this now from the perspective of a 20,000-miler, one who experienced a great many breaking in periods. Your muscles are sore from constant use, making you wish you could pack along a portable hot tub. Your body as a whole rebels at the discomfort, at the abundance of grime and odors, at the various types of inclement weather. Wish that rain would stop from getting you and your gear clammy? Be careful what you wish for, as there is no greater enemy to the tremendous exertion of long distance non-motorized travel than blistering sun and heat. Speaking of blisters, they occur frequently during this period for the foot traveler, while rashes and rawness crop up in the most sensitive of areas. Our early schedule seemed to reveal a masochistic need on my part to make sure we were not cheated from breaking in. Our eighth day out involved the greatest single day elevation change for the entire hike, more than 8,000 feet over the course of twenty miles. Furthermore, we now had our full

packs as well. While our day packs often weighed in the neighborhood of the ultra-light full packs in vogue these days, my full pack weighed at least forty pounds without water even for short stretches, and Cindy's at least thirty pounds. The weather and trail conditions provided further aggravation. The trails going up and over Mt. Diablo had a clay base, often mixed with a generous helping of horse manure. With steady rain the wet clay became slippery, treacherous even, while the wet clay and manure combination glopped onto our shoes like wet snow glops on cross-country skis. We needed twelve hours to backpack the twenty miles. Then our tenth day was our longest mileage for the entire journey, 32 miles. Lest you think I'm totally crazy that was not the originally scheduled mileage. We combined two days into one because of the forecast for a downpour to come the next day. We also returned to our day packs for the day to make life easier. Still, our bodies did not thank us for such high mileage early on. The route involved flat road walking on somewhat major roads, good for our leg muscles but not for the soles of our feet. Speaking of feet, I developed swelling in my left foot almost from the start. The swelling walked itself out with moderate miles, but became aggravated with the longer days we had early on and later in the journey. The 32 miles caused one of the more excruciating days for my foot. An important lesson in hiking is to always walk with your normal gait. Slow or shorten your pace as necessary in order to avoid a limp, or you may cause a worse affliction somewhere else on your body. I was able to follow this advice when getting into a hiking rhythm for moderate days, but there were many days early on and throughout the hike when I limped at the end of either a long day or rest days. Add to these trials and tribulations ten days of rain out of our first twelve. So much for sunny California! From my previous hikes I recalled Californian days as having abundant sun and dry smells, with chaparral crackling as I brushed by. I have no idea where that California went to; as we would soon find out there were repercussions that went beyond a few rainy days down in the central valley. Yet for all the rigors of this particular breaking in period there was much to enjoy. The second day found us still hiking down along the California coast south of Point Reyes with clearer skies and

spectacular views. I was indeed reminded of the Na Pali coast on the island of Kauai, looking down a sizable distance to see waves lapping onto the shore. We were quite sore from the first day but, having expected that, we were able to handle that cheerfully enough. Our fourth day was one of the most unique days of hiking I ever experienced. That Saturday we started off near the busy Ferry Terminal in San Francisco. A farmer's market and street musicians added to the vibrancy of the urban setting. We spent a couple hours soaking all the activity in because we had to wait for the ferry across East Bay to Oakland, one of three places along the official ADT route where one had no choice but to be transported by motorized travel. Arriving on the Oakland side of the bay was like entering the Twilight Zone. I stood out in the middle of a wide road by the port to take a picture of what appeared to be an abandoned city; I had little worry for any traffic coming by. The street called Broadway was likewise deserted, save for a few homeless people we ran into. A drizzle accompanied us through this stretch as if to underscore the lonely desolation. On the other side of Oakland was Berkeley, a typical college town (there are some who would claim Berkeley to be atypical, but it had much the same feel as Ithaca to me). The actual campus was a bit more deserted, considering this was a summer weekend. We walked right into an apparently empty academic building to use the bathrooms and encountered no one. We continued on through the campus and up to Inspiration Point, getting poured on towards the end. San Francisco, Oakland, Berkeley and Inspiration Point in one day! Yes, indeed, this was a different kind of trail than the ones Cindy and I hiked previously. As they say, variety is the spice of life!

In one sense, kindness matters more in the later phases of a long journey than during the breaking in period. Quite frankly, either your mind equips you to deal with the initial onset of drastic change and adversity or it doesn't. There's a reason why most would-be Appalachian Trail thru-hikers drop out in the first three weeks. Moments of kindness do not adequately offset the constancy of physical pain and

discomfort in the beginning. The greatest aid to breaking in is simply having gone through it before. You know the pain ends and your body acclimatizes to discomfort. Other than that, it's mind over matter. Yet kindness always matters, doesn't it? Having Tom hike with us at the beginning was a great boost to our morale, mitigating our very auspicious start. Kindness from family is, as the word indicates, familiar kindness. This is the type of kindness one can count on, perhaps the best type of kindness to help a person through the equally predictable breaking in period. We received an abundance of familiar kindness at the onset. We set up a base camp near Point Reyes at the home of an old Appalachian Trail thru-hiking friend, Marty Marcus and wife Fran. We rested up for a day in their home before starting the journey and subsequently spent three nights there as well, even coming back for a warm meal and shower after our first day of getting soaked. You must know what it is like to be with someone close who also has been there before. That was the value of spending time with Marty in the early going. A few days later we would spend several nights and a rest day with thru-hikers we were meeting for the first time. Ken and Marcia Powers were the first two people to complete the Grand Slam of long distance hiking. When I finished the journey I would become the third. They became new friends, but with the old familiarity of what long distance hiking is all about. Ky came down with an allergic reaction during our stay with Ken and Marcia. They helped us slack pack along in the early going, as one thru-hiker often does for another, while Ky left for her sister's in order to get treatment. In between those stops, another act of familiar kindness was provided through the Lions network. In announcing we would give talks to Lions Clubs across the country, Castro Lion Dennis Hayes responded by providing us a place to stay at the hotel he managed, the Hayes Valley Inn. Throughout the journey I was most apprehensive about where we would stay when we hiked through large cities. Having our stay in San Francisco resolved before we even started the hike was a great comfort. In addition to our nephew Tom, two other people came out to hike with us in acts of familiar kindness. Leslie McCormack Melody, a high school classmate of mine, came out to hike with us from

Inspiration Point to Walnut Creek. What a trooper she was! The first part of the day was gentle, but as we hiked on we gained our first appreciation that the American Discovery Trail was not going to be just a cakewalk through Kansas like terrain. Leslie kept us infused with good cheer despite the discomfort she must have been going through keeping up with a couple of hard core hikers. On the other side of Sacramento, near Roseville to be precise, Roger Monty also hiked with us. We never met before, but Roger was a native of our home in Norfolk and a mutual friend connected us together. In addition to hiking with us for a day along the American River bike path, we camped in the yard of Roger and Barbara for a couple nights. They helped us slack pack as well, this time as Ky returned to her sister's for some camper repairs. Roger was so enthused about our journey that he became the first person we met to suggest he would come back east to watch us finish. He became a person fwe were hiking for in a tangible way, the first of many. We also got our first taste of unfamiliar kindness so to speak, by that I mean kindness from people with whom we had no prior connection. After the eighth day going over Mt. Diablo kicked our butt, we arrived at the outskirts of Antioch too late for finding any other sleeping accommodation than Ky's minivan on a side street. This would be the only night of the entire journey with us crammed together in her minivan. Ky and Cindy slept in the reclined front seats while I slept on the wooden platform in the back, the one constructed by my nephew Scott for the journey. As we groggily loitered outside the van on the outskirts of Antioch the next morning, Kathy Luis was out for her daily exercise and intrigued by our appearance enough to stop and chat. Cindy and I proceeded to hike with Kathy around a town park, while her friend Art Rissetto soon joined us riding a bike. Before parting company they both invited us out to dinner at a Mexican Restaurant for that evening with their spouses Don and Denise. We gladly made sure Ky could bring us back to rendezvous at the end of the day. We had the first of many delightful get-togethers with strangers turned friends. Our new friends gave us a parting gift of $50 worth of Starbucks certificates. They would not be the only new friends made on this journey. What an understatement!

Photo Album: Point Reyes to Locke Podcast: The Day After Podcast: Cultural Life Zones Podcast: Tough Hiking