My last stop in just over 120 miles of New Mexico– fastest state yet before stepping into the great big Lone Star State.
Yoga Teacher Karen Nichols is hosting me here.
Karen is the friend of Dr. Rona Thau, who provided free, helpful treatment to me in Ventura, CA. Rona told Karen I was coming, and the doors opened widely.
Karen introduced me to Robert, a special friend of hers who in his twenties spent seven years bicycling around America.

Robert & Karen take me to Mountain View Market – their local grocery co-op. Mt. View ended up giving me groceries for my travels– great people!!

After spending the night at the famous Adobe Deli restaurant, just a mile south of Hwy 549, I’d decided to start the morning by walking Solana Rd, a dirt & gravel road extending due east of the restaurant, before reconnecting back to 549.
When I walk dirt and gravel roads, the majority of my attention is focused on choosing the … See Morenext step or two– I carefully select thousands of steps daily so as to minimize any pain to my feet caused by walking over big or sharp rocks.
The first time I saw a rattlesnake was on a dirt road in eastern California, just a few miles before Blythe. It was dead (recently run over), and clearly showed that rattlers had emerged from hibernation for the spring. The first time a live rattler rattled at me was on my walk from Coolidge to Picacho, AZ. It was warning me from a safe distance, hidden amongst some grass at least 12 feet away. I’ve received many similar rattler warnings since then over the weeks– allowing me to feel reassured that they’re typically aware and warning me before I have a chance to get too close. I typically won’t wear my headphones unless I clearly see the paved road shoulder in front of me (if it exists).
This morning, within about the first ten minutes of my walk east on Solana, ears wide open, moving swiftly, attentively choosing every next step, I suddenly spotted the shape of a large, curled up rattlesnake camouflaged into the dirt road before me. I was just a step or so away from it, and about to firmly meet its scales with my swiftly-moving shoe soles. Within a crucially perceptive and reactive nanosecond, my momentum broke as I jumped like a jack rabbit off to the left, and bolted twenty-five feet forward– fast and far enough to safely look back and find it still in rattling in the coiled position it quickly shifted into upon feeling me spring dirt and pebbles at it as I leapt out of its way.
Coiled, head up, still rattling, I now found the experience to be pretty fascinating– from 25 safe feet away– fascinating enough to attempt a couple of pics from my bottom-of-the-line cam on the phone.
One can’t help but to feel blessed and thankful after such a close call. I even found myself slightly bowing to the snake, wishing it well, sending peaceful thoughts its way before turning and proceeding on– now often looking at more than just the next couple of steps…

“Hey!” I heard through the dark. I was walking a dead end frontage road east of exit 116 on Interstate 10, having avoided the freeway entrance and cop with driver pulled over. It was dark, I was nearly 25 miles into the day’s still-to-be completed walk, and after mistaking a baa-ing lamb for a human voice just ten minutes earlier, I decided to not respond to what I may or may not have been hearing. Then I heard more: “Hello!”
I was walking by a small group of mobile homes– some of the only homes I’d seen all day. This human voice coming from one of them sounded very welcoming. I approached the chain link fence to say hi to the silhouette across from me.
“How’s it going? Why are you walking out here?” an inquisitive man named Adam was very friendly with his questions.
I delivered him my standard answer.
“Well, you want some water? You want something to eat? Heck, we could probably put you up for the night!”
Score! Another excellent family met, more new friends made! Adam is the grown son of Rick & Stacy, who live in a very cozy home here, close to homes of fellow relatives. Adam invited me inside his parents’ house, then called his soon-to-be-home parents to inform them.
I haven’t showered since before leaving Deming, and now, nearly forty warm miles later, my nearly exhausted human engine was sooo happy to suddenly get invited in by this nice, generous family who proceeded to make me dinner and set me up in their guest bedroom before we really even got a chance to start a conversation and get to know each other.
Adam was on his way to bed when he caught site of me (good thing I stood for a few moments to admire the beautiful pink backdrop behind the distant, rocky desert picks–spiky yuccas in the foreground– or I may have missed him!). He went to bed shortly after joining me for my dinner.
Rick and I stayed up chatting a while longer. He was born and raised on just the other side of what is now I-10. He’s lived all over the US, and he has many interesting stories to tell– especially about life in the desert Southwest.
He set me up with fresh towels for a shower and internet access before turning in for the night, and I stop to shake my head in utter satisfaction of how great things can work out– how lovely life can be… My alternative was to head to the Border Patrol checkpoint, a few miles down the road yet, and stop in, ask for water, and ask to camp nearby. No need for that anymore…
25 miles down for today, and tomorrow should be just over 25 to reach central Las Cruces. I’m told it’s slightly downhill to get there, and as I’ve heard many great things about the town and its people, I’m excited that Las Cruces is my next rest stop. I’ve been invited in by a couple of different people there; I’ll be meeting Allyson, my first host, when she gets off work tomorrow evening at 8:30. I’ll stay two nights at her place just before she flies off to Italy and the U.K. (pending Icelandic ash approval). She’s lined up a friend of hers to host me on Friday.
In the middle of back-to-back 25-mile days, a comfortable bed, hot shower and fresh food are at least as welcome as cool sunshine to the bride and groom on the day of their outdoor wedding.

More hot walking weather awaits me– temperatures in the upper 80s, reaching the 90s. Once again, I venture out to take steps on a path unfamiliar to me, this time guided toward an invitation to camp near Adobe Deli, which is just over 11 miles from the RV park on the east end of Deming, NM, where I’ve spent the last 36 hrs resting, recuperating, and chatting with the seniors of the RV park. The local United Methodist Church paid for me to stay two nights here– a wonderful gift which has allowed me to meet a handful of happy people here, in addition to the crusty-mannered owner/manager. One of my elder peers here tells me that the retiree-rich town of Deming is nicknamed “God’s waiting room.” If Cory is going to call Deming God’s waiting room, then it’s not fair to simply single out Deming: the whole Southwest is rich with retiree snowbirds, so many of whom I’ve been meeting ever since Palm Springs, CA. Most are great people, and their desire to escape the freezing weather of the northern climates is well understood– as I’ve acted similarly three of the past four winters, and will be south this coming winter as well.
Last week, I sent a message to the universe asking if anyone knew of a contact in Deming who would host me. Tamara, an acquaintance from high school (who I haven’t seen in fifteen years), appeared and had gave me the contact info of a friend of her husband (a man I haven’t met), Brooke, and I will be hosted by Brooke’s family, owners of Adobe Deli, tonight. Fortunately, I seem to have been having the best luck with all Brookes in the Southwest! (I’m so thankful to Tamara for lining this up!)
From Adobe Deli, it’s another 50 miles to Las Cruces, where I plan to spend a handful of days, with more than one host. I’m told it’s a cool town (most college towns seem to be), and I’m very optimistic about making it there soon.
After Las Cruces, I will continue walking near I-10, all the way to El Paso, where the NBC affiliate has been waiting to cover the Walk story ever since Tucson. El Paso is less than 50 miles from Las Cruces, and though my plan is to return to New Mexico and walk east through White Sands, Alamogordo, Artesia, and beyond, I love the idea of piercing through Texas’ spur-happy borders as early as next week. And since El Paso made the list of the ten fattest cities in America recently, it also makes sense for me to go there and promote a message of physical fitness, walking, etc. To add to this all, there’s the social interest: as few seem to have good things to say about El Paso, I somehow find myself more attracted to paying a visit there– especially given that I already have a handful of invitations from locals there. I’d love to gain a visual of the El Paso, which I find I’m totally lacking– we all have a visual of the Statue of Liberty or Empire State Building before ever setting foot in NYC, of the Sears Tower before reaching Chicago, the beach before bathing in Miami’s waves, but El Paso..? I draw a blank– but not for long…
I’m within just a few weeks of my summer recess. I’m not sure yet of the exact date or destination, but some time next month, I’ll be postponing the Walk, at which point I’ll return home for the summer months, strategize the PR of the next chapters of the Walk (including speaking to many schools), do some volunteer work, visit family, meditate, distribute lavender freely, and perhaps even walk across the State of Washington– all while missing out on torturous Texas summer heat.
For now, hotter miles to come and more happy people to meet, I continue east this afternoon through the dry, gently rolling valleys of God’s Waiting Room…

I write this from the Lordsburg library, whose filtering policies are so strict that I can neither answer messages on Facebook or Couchsurfing.org, because “we don’t know what kind of content can be found on sites like that.”

As careful as I always am to make sure it’s in the top pocket of my backpack before leaving every room I sleep in, I had a hard time believing that I’d left my phone charger in Bowie this past Saturday, at the home of the energetic 82-year-old Bill Hoy. I didn’t realize it was gone till I was in San Simon– fifteen miles away. I scoured through all pockets and bags within the backpack to ensure that it wasn’t simply misplaced into one of them, but no luck. Luckily, I do have a backup battery which often comes in handy on long rural stretches; both batteries are nearly dead. I’ve mostly kept the phone off since this past weekend, and thanks to my dad, who sent me a backup charger on Monday, which arrived general delivery to Lordsburg this morning, I’m now charging one of the batteries here at the library before beginning the long trek into Deming in the afternoon heat. The batteries charge very slowly, and I don’t know how much juice I’ll get before making it out the door, but I’ll make it all work out somehow.

It’s 120 miles to Las Cruces, where I’ve been invited in by some Couchsurfing hosts, and I plan to spend some days. Except for Deming, which is almost exactly 60 miles from here in Lordsburg, I’m told there’s really little more through the next 120 miles of valley land. Fortunately, I’m told the land is mostly flat. I hear that I’ll be crossing the continental divide within a couple of days– exciting! There are gas stops every twenty miles or so, which to me means that there is a place for water– since virtually every gas station is accompanied with a small junk food market nowadays. Especially in the heat of the desert, finding water is a most strategic planning exercise for me, as I always need to know where I can get it through rural stretches, and as heavy as water is, I seek to only carry as much as I need till the next stop. I’m a couple of miles from the eastern end of Lordsburg now, and there is no water in my pack. I won’t be filling up till I reach the truck stop on the east end of town, simply to spare myself that extra weight in the bag till then. Every ounce counts!

Though I’ll seek shelter in Deming (perhaps at a church), it’s not likely that I’ll be receiving any other shelter between here and the next 120 miles to Las Cruces. It’s pretty remote, and I’ll have to search around for the best and safest camping spots. I like the idea of building a fire to sleep next to at night, which keeps unwelcome animals, some of the large, away from the food in my backpack. That said, besides the sudden, unpredictable popping of some burning branches which throws flaming embers at my tent, a fire could quickly attract the wrong sort of human attention, so I have to be very careful and strategic about how and where I camp for the night. If no fire, I’ll rely on the boater’s air horn to squawk painfully loudly and shoo off all large, wild dogs, cats, and pigs…

Venturing out and camping in the “unknown” like this often brings a bit of nervousness with it, given that I’ve never been an outdoors man, I’ve never been in this part of the country, and I’ve been unexpectedly well-sheltered for the past weeks, by so many well meaning locals that I’ve met along the way (more on them later). I’ve actually done very little solo camping outside of official campgrounds or other properties– less than ten times this whole trip, I believe… That said, what was once overbearing nervousness is now just a fraction of what once was. I venture out very optimistic and enthusiastic– knowing that I have to be!

Much fun to come!

Apache cross, for strength, finger-painted onto me this morning before leaving Bowie.

Host Billy Hoy painted the Apache cross finger-painted onto me this morning, for strength, before leaving Bowie, Arizona.

I’m told that this cross, which consists of cattail pollen, is of great significance to the Apache. I will find out more later regarding its overall significance. At this point, I happily walk forward to San Simon, feeling its helpful, beneficial strength through the miles…

On Saturday, April 24th, I left the eastern Tucson home of ultra-kind Couchsurfing host Delissa Jimenez, unsure of whether or not I’d be receiving any hosting invitations from anyone over the course of the next 267 miles to Las Cruces, New Mexico. Invitations are always nice, but whether they happen or not, I have to move forward on the walk. Well, it’s been nearly two weeks since I left the Jimenez home, and there’s only been one night that I haven’t been invited to rest or camp somewhere, on someone’s property. I’m so thoroughly satisfied with the good nature that I’m witnessing in sooo many people!!
Bowie awaits! (I’m excited!!)