leg 3: Fastpacking from the Gulf of Mexico to Brownsville Texas
6 important points of information + 1 story.
- i am currently in houston, drafting this letter after a major shift in the north american trek.
- the last time i was able to send an update, i was canoeing the mississippi river. since then, so much has happened.
- the second leg, the mississippi river leg, is complete. upon finishing, i felt a deep sense of sadness, disbelief, and grief. what a difficult thing to do. i am excited to share more stories about that section of the trek.
- i did not have any luck finding a sailboat to ride to mexico, so i am now fastpacking and hitchhiking from the gulf to brownsville, texas.
- so far, i have fastpacked about 250 miles and hitchhiked around 55 miles.
- our next leg starts very soon. habit.us will meet in mexico to work on a project called strange neighbors. a project about how we relate our neighbors.
He killed them
“You have to address anger, fear, and then to think about what the alternatives are: hope, faith, a certain kind of brotherly love. And then you have to set yourself to cultivate those.”
— Martha Nussbaum, The Monarchy of Fear
There are so many moments during this trek that I wish I could share with you, some large and some small. With that said, I have to be selective with the stories, with the goal of portraying the essence of this trip. I encourage you, if you can, to go out and experience journeys and treks of your own, in your own way, if you ever have such a privilege.
Walking through southern Louisiana is harsh. I am ravaged by the 95-degree heat. The mosquito swarms are as thick as the humidity at dawn and dusk, and there are wild hogs, snakes, and gators in the very tall grasses and swamps.
In all of this, I am walking 20 to 28 miles a day with a 30-pound pack, waving at thousands of people as they zoom past me. I am also discreetly hitchhiking, meaning I do not put my thumb out, but if someone offers a ride, I will consider it. I sometimes wonder why I am not afraid to get into these cars…
So far, I have had six such rides, all pickup trucks, and almost all middle-aged men. One ride was from a pair of women. Most of the people who have stopped have been middle to lower class and mostly Christian in faith.
One day in Louisiana, a man offered me a ride. He got me about 15 miles down the road. During this car ride, we talked about his childhood, his time in the military, and his life. He was a lonely man. He said the 15-minute car ride was the most he had talked to anyone in three and a half years.
He told me of the atrocities of war. He told me that he had killed families, and he cried as I sat there, listening and trying to understand.
I was grateful to be able to listen and talk with him just by saying yes to a car ride down the road. He did not even own a cell phone. As I sat and listened to someone who had killed lots of people, I felt secure, and I think we both did.
Thousands of people drive past me each day, and for whatever reason, they do not stop to ask what’s what. That’s okay. I have seen my fair share of horror films. I know that it takes courage and vulnerability to willingly invite strangers into your space. And when it goes wrong, the media tells us that story because it drives fear, and fear sells.
This foundation of fear then builds stories and situations that are not baseless, but are quite distorted.
One thing we talked about during the car ride is the idea that fear completely freezes our idea of hope.
I am sharing this small story because it is absolutely important that we find a way to act beyond our fears. When we do this, we create and build this idea of tangible hope, and we regain the power to move toward an idea that we want to see in this world.
This is quite important because without this, all we have is fear. And when all we have is fear, we can only be controlled by fear. We have no control.
I am not a journalist or anything. I am just sharing these experiences because they are important to me. And if we want to move collectively toward a future that we can be proud of, we absolutely need real, tangible hope.
But this is difficult, and it takes leadership.
So let this be leadership and let this be difficult so that you can know that we are also here choosing a harder pathway in hope of a better future.
Please continue to watch as the habit.us collective moves through this project.
pinkies and thanks for the support.
We were able to get all of the gear for this leg thanks to your generous donations.
6 important points of information + 1 story.
- i am currently in houston, drafting this letter after a major shift in the north american trek.
- the last time i was able to send an update, i was canoeing the mississippi river. since then, so much has happened.
- the second leg, the mississippi river leg, is complete. upon finishing, i felt a deep sense of sadness, disbelief, and grief. what a difficult thing to do. i am excited to share more stories about that section of the trek.
- i did not have any luck finding a sailboat to ride to mexico, so i am now fastpacking and hitchhiking from the gulf to brownsville, texas.
- so far, i have fastpacked about 250 miles and hitchhiked around 55 miles.
- our next leg starts very soon. habit.us will meet in mexico to work on a project called strange neighbors. a project about how we relate our neighbors.
He killed them
“You have to address anger, fear, and then to think about what the alternatives are: hope, faith, a certain kind of brotherly love. And then you have to set yourself to cultivate those.”— Martha Nussbaum, The Monarchy of Fear
There are so many moments during this trek that I wish I could share with you, some large and some small. With that said, I have to be selective with the stories, with the goal of portraying the essence of this trip. I encourage you, if you can, to go out and experience journeys and treks of your own, in your own way, if you ever have such a privilege.
Walking through southern Louisiana is harsh. I am ravaged by the 95-degree heat. The mosquito swarms are as thick as the humidity at dawn and dusk, and there are wild hogs, snakes, and gators in the very tall grasses and swamps.
In all of this, I am walking 20 to 28 miles a day with a 30-pound pack, waving at thousands of people as they zoom past me. I am also discreetly hitchhiking, meaning I do not put my thumb out, but if someone offers a ride, I will consider it. I sometimes wonder why I am not afraid to get into these cars…
So far, I have had six such rides, all pickup trucks, and almost all middle-aged men. One ride was from a pair of women. Most of the people who have stopped have been middle to lower class and mostly Christian in faith.
One day in Louisiana, a man offered me a ride. He got me about 15 miles down the road. During this car ride, we talked about his childhood, his time in the military, and his life. He was a lonely man. He said the 15-minute car ride was the most he had talked to anyone in three and a half years.
He told me of the atrocities of war. He told me that he had killed families, and he cried as I sat there, listening and trying to understand.
I was grateful to be able to listen and talk with him just by saying yes to a car ride down the road. He did not even own a cell phone. As I sat and listened to someone who had killed lots of people, I felt secure, and I think we both did.
Thousands of people drive past me each day, and for whatever reason, they do not stop to ask what’s what. That’s okay. I have seen my fair share of horror films. I know that it takes courage and vulnerability to willingly invite strangers into your space. And when it goes wrong, the media tells us that story because it drives fear, and fear sells.
This foundation of fear then builds stories and situations that are not baseless, but are quite distorted.
One thing we talked about during the car ride is the idea that fear completely freezes our idea of hope.
I am sharing this small story because it is absolutely important that we find a way to act beyond our fears. When we do this, we create and build this idea of tangible hope, and we regain the power to move toward an idea that we want to see in this world.
This is quite important because without this, all we have is fear. And when all we have is fear, we can only be controlled by fear. We have no control.
I am not a journalist or anything. I am just sharing these experiences because they are important to me. And if we want to move collectively toward a future that we can be proud of, we absolutely need real, tangible hope.
But this is difficult, and it takes leadership.
So let this be leadership and let this be difficult so that you can know that we are also here choosing a harder pathway in hope of a better future.
Please continue to watch as the habit.us collective moves through this project.
pinkies and thanks for the support.
We were able to get all of the gear for this leg thanks to your generous donations.