DAYS 35 & 36 - Mud Lake, ID - 717 miles from home

I'm writing this on the morning of day 37, August 9, from the Community Church of Mud Lake. We've walked more than 700 miles - with the Lemhi mountains at our side and our back, through windy hilly passes, past dusty hay fields and nuclear research sites, through county fairs and alongside a busy state highway. We've hiked to Sage Junction, where Highway 33 meets Interstate 15. Later this morning we're driving about 40 miles to Idaho Falls. There, we'll bunk for two nights, rest up, go to Costco, meet some new friends from the First Presbyterian Church, and pick up Kate at the airport. (Yay! She's joining us again - for three weeks!)

We're still in the network of family and friends here. Mary Tonkin - old pal of Connie, of Juanita, of Tena and Delwin - welcomed us at her church's booth at the Mud Lake Fair and Rodeo. There was cherry pie and whipped cream, a quick tour of the sows and sheep and 4H crafts and research projects (from the practical to the delightful: "Does the Color of Feed Bucket Affect Horse Consumption?" and "Do Mentos Explode the Same in Diet Coke as Regular?"), and we were off to the Community Church of Mud Lake: our spacious, cool and welcoming home for two nights.

There are church basements - and then there are church basements. Mud Lake's was deluxe. We loved every minute - plugged in our rig and filled her up with water, and took showers too.

Mary is a true force of nature. Like Juanita, she worked for years at Idaho National Laboratory (INL). Her favorite job there was 'laborer,' "where I did everything" - from cleaning up hot cells, to becoming the site's first female painter, spraying and handpainting and stenciling the railcars that move spent fuel. "Always something different."

At INL, the power plant for the world's first nuclear submarine was built, and the 'peaceful' application of nuclear power was first demonstrated: the lights of Arco, ID burning brightly for an hour back in 1955. Wikipedia quotes a former INL director, John Grossenbacher: "The history of nuclear energy for peaceful application has principally been written in Idaho." I've now spent literally hours walking through INL territory.

Bright with laughter and quips, Mary also shared stories of the hardships in her family - stories which were fundamentally testament to resilience and grit, and helped illuminate for me a recurring theme of our Idaho miles. This is vast, stark and in many ways unforgiving land. Desert, juniper, rattlesnakes (I've heard some rattling btw), lava fields, sharp blue gray mountains. Wind and dust. To carve a life here requires an unceasing push of will - and perhaps that clarified sense of dominion that comes, for some, through spiritual conviction... and for others evolves through grief and recovery.

Speaking of grief.... On day 35 I saw a gorgeous redtailed hawk dead in the middle of the road. No doubt he flew into a passing car or truck. I moved his body, still limp, to the shoulder - so he wouldn't be smooshed. Muttered a brief blessing and prayer for his wild life.

Our lives have impact. Bold and beautiful, small and sorrowful. Yesterday before my leg of the walk, I looked back at the clip from Forrest Gump that first came to mind when Liberty Walks was 'born' - when I first found myself thinking: I want to Forrest Gump it to Washington!

Although Tom Hanks’ character says that he began to run “for no particular reason”… it’s clear that he’s running because of a broken heart. Maybe every pilgrimage, every urge to move, carries with it the movement of grief.

And I was thinking that as our world has gotten more connected through the Internet and mass media, and as our ways of telling our collective stories have gotten more varied and have begun to include more perspectives, maybe the appropriate response is in fact to have a broken heart. For the loss that others experience, and for our own lost certainties. Of course, there are also innumerable occasions for joy and wonder. But the magnitude of suffering that we now encounter, on an hourly basis, is heartrending. There is so much to grieve. And our species is actually well adapted for the work of grief. We are supremely social animals. Grief is not a private emotion. Or, if it is private - the work of mourning is what we hold in common.

Joan and Debbie, looking for Highway 15. "We're going home to Arizona." Go that way, I said, savvy highway traveler. You'll pass through Mud Lake toward Rexburg. Can't miss it.

Idaho National Laboratory. 890 square miles; employer of ~5700 people.

Making hay while the sun shines. (One reason a neck gaiter comes in handy: breathing hay is not too fun.)

Between Terreton and Mud Lake, Idaho.

Terreton, Idaho.

Yvonne and Mary at the church booth at the Mud Lake Fair & Rodeo. Cherry pie is about to be consumed!

Mary Tonkin and the Community Church of Mud Lake.

Community Church of Mud Lake.

Terreton Church of Latter Day Saints, just down the road.