"Hearts of Gold"
Guysville, Ohio
April 18, 1983
Dear Folks,
I thought I'd never make it to Athens, Ohio, my first major stop. The route I've chosen to follow from Bethel to Washington, D.C., old U.S. 50, is one of the hilliest and curviest two-lane roadways anywhere. As a result, my legs felt as if they were going to fall apart long before I'd reached the eastern edge of Ohio.
The blisters disappeared--more or less--after the second day out, but then it seemed that something else painful would torment each day. If it wasn't the knees, it would be an ankle or perhaps my back.
After about 70 miles, I had the good sense to lighten my pack by about 25 pounds. So many items that I had thought would be indispensable suddenly didn't seem so important anymore. Back to Bethel, via UPS, went such things as cooking gear, the tent, my jacket, and all the fishing tackle. My poor back and knees hurt so much I even contemplated ridding myself of my sleeping bag. And yet I held back on the sleeping bag, because I knew I couldn't count on having someone putting me up every night.
And, sure enough, two nights later my decision about needing the sleeping bag proved to be right.
I was in a particularly lonely stretch of back-hill country, in the middle of Ohio's poorest county. It was raining, cold, windy, and dark, when I finally decided to call it quits for the day. Although there were no farmhouses to be seen on the surrounding hills in that part of Vinton County, I spotted an abandoned church about a quarter of a mile off the road.
Carefully I crossed a flooded filed to the dilapidated building and stepped even more gingerly into its black and musty interior. All day I had been warned by strangers not to stop in the county, for it was said to be a violent place due to its 21 percent unemployment and its pervasive poverty.
Adjoining the church was a cemetery and several of the wildest, deadest trees I'd ever seen. Needlesstosay, I hardly slept a wink. All night I imagined I heard ghouls and murdererous thieves creeping up to me across the old floor boards.
In the gray morning light, however, I was still in one piece. Much of the noise I'd heard during the night had been little more than tree branches scraping the tin roof, or rats scurrying through the litter piles in the room's corners.
Furthermore, as the days passed I found the people of that part of Ohio to be extremely friendly and compassionate, even though they were indeed very poor. Although the homes in that part of Appalachia oftentimes looked lifeless, the inhabitants actually had hearts of gold. This was especially true of the very poorest.
Many of the homes I was invited into didn't have plumbing. Nearly all were heated by wood-burning stoves or by coal. And yet the treatment I received was quite kingly.
When I did reach Athens, after nine days and 140 miles of walking, I had made a lot of friends and learned again just how helpful my fellow Americans can be.
Steven