I walked back to my room and finished packing, applying the bumper sticker to the back of my pack. I checked the room twice to make sure I hadn’t forgotten anything. I felt as if I’d left something there. I guess I had. I knocked on Pamela’s door. She opened quickly.

“Ready to hit the road?” she asked.

“Back at it,” I said.

“At least you’ve got the shoes for it.”

I smiled. Then I leaned forward and hugged her. “Goodbye, Pamela. Good luck.”

“Good luck to you too,” she said. She handed me a piece of paper. “That’s my phone number and address. If you’re ever in Colorado, please come see us.”

I put the paper in my pocket. “I’ll do that. I’d really like to meet Hadley someday.”

“I’m sure she’d like to meet you. Maybe you could stop by on your way back from Key West.”

“I’d like that,” I said. “I guess we’ll see.” I ran a hand back through my hair and sighed. “I better go.”

Pamela leaned forward and we hugged once more.

“Good-bye,” she said. “Be safe.”

I slipped my pack on over my shoulders, put on my Akubra hat, then with a furtive smile turned around and began to walk. As I reached the end of the parking lot Pamela called to me.

“Alan.”

I turned back.

“God bless you.”

I smiled. “Take care, Pamela.” I turned, heading back toward the interstate. I sensed that I really was going to miss her following me.

Chapter Nine

C H A P T E R

Nine

As we walk our individual life journeys,

we pick up resentments and hurts, which

attach themselves to our souls like burrs

clinging to a hiker’s socks. These stowaways

may seem insignificant at first, but, over

time, if we do not occasionally stop and

shake them free, the accumulation

becomes a burden to our souls.

Alan Christoffersen’s diary

Prior to leaving Wall, I had a conversation with the cashier at the Wall Drug gift shop about the road east and she talked me into taking the Badlands Loop, adding an extra ten miles or so to my journey.

My pack was heavy again, as I was assured it would be a while before I would find any decent shopping, so I had filled up at Wall with everything I needed.

Within minutes of leaving Pamela I was back on 90. The morning air was cool and the walking was easy—though I know, in part, because I felt good. In spite of the heaviness of my pack, I felt lighter. Forgiving Pamela had healed a wound I had never acknowledged existed.

Two miles from Wall I exited 90 for Highway 240, the Badlands Loop. It took me half the day, ten miles of walking, to reach the national park.