SLO LIFE Jun/Jul 2017

After a ten-hour day of trekking, I arrived at
the guesthouse. I had spent an entire day alone,
walking with my own uninterrupted thoughts—no
music, no internet, no companion. The solitude of
the experience outweighed the discomfort. In the
morning, breakfast was served as the sun rose. The
doting guesthouse proprietor expressed concern
that I was walking alone. I reminded him that Jesus
walked alone, and after a moment of contemplation,
he seemed satisfied with my response. Then he
offered me a giant glass of wine to accompany my
breakfast. “Jesus also drank wine,” he said, turning
my own logic against me. As tempting as it was, I
declined his generous offer and began my search for
more of the orange rocks.
Back on the trail, the smells of dawn emerged:
cinnamon, cardamom, fresh-baked bread, and
burning trash. The 15-mile day was highlighted by
a walk that went to a Christian town, to a Muslim
town, to a Jewish town. Each was unique in its
religion, its inhabitants, its language, and its food,
yet all had at least one characteristic in common—
warmhearted hospitality. At every turn, I was
greeted with “salaam,” “shalom,” or “hello.” Was it
the vulnerability of my solo journey that prompted
so much kindness? I wrestled with the question for
much of that day, finally coming to the conclusion
instead that most people are just inherently peaceful
and welcoming.
The next day’s trek traversed miles of vast
wilderness. Determined to focus solely on the trail
markers, I was certain not to get lost. There was a
fork in the path with an orange arrow pointing left.
Naturally, I followed it and continued walking on a
well-maintained path for about a half-mile before
realizing that I had not found another marker
in a very long time. I was startled by a truck that
seemingly appeared from out of nowhere. Armed
with my walking sticks, I reflexively puffed up in an
effort to look as tough as possible when the driver
rolled down his window and asked, “Are you okay?”
He spoke English! “Yes, thank you.” He then
asked, “Are you walking the Jesus Trail?” I nodded,
“Yes, I am.” Softly he informed me, “The hike is
actually back the other direction.” Overwhelmed
with emotion, my face became flushed as I felt
tears welling up. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he
inquired again. “Yes, but thank you so much for
telling me.” And away he went. Whether you call it
God, Allah, Buddha, or Mother Nature, I realized
in that moment that I had not been alone on my
journey after all. SLO LIFE
82 | SLO LIFE MAGAZINE | JUN/JUL 2017