When walking more than 20 miles in a day, it’s always best to not have taken more than a day or two off from any previous 10+mile day. If I wait as long as four days, my body has already slipped from tip-top shape. This was exactly the case for Saturday’s 24-mile walk out of Louisiana.

I began the day in the Bayou Savage National Wildlife Refuge, where Phil, Richard & I had left off four days earlier. Despite too many days off (totally my doing), light winds in my face, mosquitoes all around, the day was sunny and not too hot, and I felt blessed by this. I exchanged a meaningful goodbye with Phil Goddard, who had advised me of how to walk across America months before I ever began, and had hosted me for the past five nights in NOLA.

The Bayou Savage National Wildlife Refuge is a very special place– especially to walk across– a real jewel of an experience for my final miles of Louisiana. There are over 24,000 acres of fresh and brackish marshes and coastal hardwood forests, and they’re technically all still within the city limits of New Orleans, making it the nation’s largest urban National Wildlife Refuge. About two hours into the day’s walk, I began smelling sea salt in the air, which was such a sweet sensation, as I hadn’t walked close to the coast since Santa Monica– two years ago! I’ll soon be reaching the shores of the Gulf Coast on foot!!!

NOLA’s fire station #31 rests on the main hwy slicing through the Refuge, many miles from the all-day action that other in-town crews experience, but as fellow walker Andrew Forsthoefel had spent a night with them, I figured I’d pay a brief visit while walking by as well. The quartet of firefighters on staff remembered Andrew well, and while spending about 15 minutes with them, they hooked me up with extra mosquito repellent and threw in a NOLA Fire Dept T-Shirt for the road as well.

Two more miles down Highway 90, Chef Menteur Hwy, the only road I’d need to walk all day, brought me past the well-to-do Venetian Isles neighborhood. Darrel, a local who was just returning from a 10k morning run invited me into the house to meet the family. I ended up meeting three generations of Darrel’s family, including an art room where a handful of baby-boomer men were working on painting wood-carved ducks, pelicans and eagles. One of the mallards that was near completion looked absolutely real from a ten feet away– amazing! Standing and talking to them for twenty minutes, one of them asked me,”what’s the strangest thing you’ve ever seen in all your miles?”

I answered him, “well, one time I was walking through a neighborhood, a guy offered me a break at his house, and I was taken to a back room where I was surprised to see a bunch of guys carving and painting birds.” It took them a second to get it, and they really seemed to like my answer. The real answer is that every day is so diverse, and so much has happened, that it’s difficult to generate specific answers to these types of questions. (Give me a point on the map where I walked, and ask me how that day went, and I’ll remember it well enough to tell a story.)

Darrel’s family and friends told me how their neighborhood, far from NOLA’s levees, was well under about 25 feet of water with Katrina’s storm surge– they pointed to a neighbor’s flag pole to show me how high the water rose. Almost everyone had evacuated; however, a few stubborn locals had the “I’ve survived every other storm and I’ll survive this one too” attitude, and such stubborness cost many of them their lives.

After nearly an hour with Darrel’s family, despite feeling invited to hang out all day (and maybe longer), it was time to return to the road. For the first time while walking, I was seeing neighborhoods of houses on pilings– stilts twenty feet tall onto which the homes sit. Cars and other storage items rest below these homes, and long stair cases lead up and into each of the homes.

15 miles into the day, beyond an antique, narrow drawbridge and a tall, mile-long bridge with a great view, I reached Rigolets, where I crossed paths with a Brian, a Hawaiian who had been bicycling all the way from Tampa, Florida. After ten minutes of chatting with Brian, I reached a large, black Ford pickup where Aubrey & Mrs. Norris, a retired couple, had pulled up to speak with me. Of course, they asked me the standard what and why.

“For cancer prevention…” I explained.

“How does walking across America prevent cancer?” Aubrey skeptically probed.

“I’m taking countless steps across America with the goal of inspiring fellow Americans to take steps forward in their lives, lead healthier lifestyles, and create better, brighter worlds for themselves as well as for those around them. At minimum, I ask people to take a daily walk. Exercise, eating, and stress management all lead to a decreased risk of cancer.”

“Where are you headed?”

“Washington, DC; however, today I’ll end the day in Pearlington.”

Aubrey proceeded to give me about five minutes of his meaning-of-life perspectives before asking me,”Well, do you need a place to stay? We live in Pearlington. You can throw your stuff in the back and hop in now if you’d like…”

“I may have an invitation or two in Pearlington, but I’d love to take your number, just in case.” People who’d hosted Andrew Forsthoefel in Pearlington were willing to let me camp in their yard, and Pastor John of the local Baptist church told me he could arrange for a room and a shower for me. As the sun was setting though, and as I had another ten miles to walk, it was clear I wouldn’t be arriving before 10PM. The cart was cumbersome, and the roadside shoulders would soon be narrowing into traffic-only space, much trickier for pushing the cart. So, thinking fast before they left, I asked, “what if I put my stuff in the back of your truck now, and catch up to you in Pearlington, would that be OK?”

“Yes, sure!”

I was free of the cart for the next three hours. After dark and within my final 2 miles of Louisiana, I began placing gratitude-filled phone calls to many of the people who had made Louisiana such an overwhelmingly beautiful experience for me. I wish I could have spoken with all of them, but the handful of conversations and messages left before the Mississippi border really helped to seal off the oh-so-special Bayou State experience…

Though it took me till 10PM to arrive, Aubrey’s help made those final ten miles twice as easy as the previous fourteen, and was especially useful to me as I arrived exhausted, so ready to sleep. I’d canceled the other invitations on the way.

Though I was utterly exhausted, Aubrey was enthusiastic to engage in conversation for another couple of hours. Some of it I remember; much of it I don’t. Being a good guest translates to not simply arriving and demanding a bed to sleep in however, no matter how much the body may desire that. Establishing a positive rapport is essential, even if that was to take many post-exhaustion hours to achieve.

I awoke tired on Easter morning, body aching from Saturday’s long, against-the-wind miles. The miles, mosquitoes, and sun all added up to do a number on me, and I was not going to be in any condition to walk 19 more miles to Bay St. Louis. That said, I also don’t just invite myself into peoples’ homes for extra days. Aubrey did invite me to stay longer though, and I accepted this invitation pretty quickly. I did very little all day, resting my aching body, and getting to know Mr. & Mrs. Norris better while here.

Early this morning, I still feel aches and pains under the skin, but I also feel my strength quickly recollecting to empower me across the miles ahead. Those 24 miles may have worn my body out, but my spirit remains strong. This will be my first full day of walking in Mississippi, and I’m excited!

Last Day in Louisiana, 24 miles through the Bayou Savage National Wildlife Refuge

Last Day in Louisiana, 24 miles through the Bayou Savage National Wildlife Refuge

Last Day in Louisiana. For the first time, I'm walking by homes on high stilts (pilings). These are for the storm surges. Nonetheless, many of these homes were underwater and/or destroyed by Hurricane Katrina

The last one I see in Louisiana, New Orleans Fire Station #17, where fellow walker Andrew Forsthoefel had spent a night just a few weeks earlier, resupplied me with mosquito spray, and gave me a New Orleans Fire Department T-shirt for the road!

On my final day in Louisiana, walking out of the state via Chef Menteur Highway, I noticed so many of the surrounding homes had "greeting signs" in their front yards, many of admirable artistic style. I haven't seen so many artistic, front-yard welcome signs anywhere else in America. I love it! Here's one of my favorites:

Last Day in Louisiana, a sweet family invites me off Chef Menteur Hwy for a few minutes, for a meet & greet & eat.

Last Day in Louisiana, a sweet family invites me off Chef Menteur Hwy for a few minutes, for a meet & greet & eat. In a room off to the side, a few kind Baby Boomers are busy working their birds...

In a 1967 car crash, Jayne Mansfield died here. What I stumble upon from one day to the next on the road never ceases to amaze me.