Welcome, Sarah Elizabeth!

Congratulations to Dawn and Mark Robinson and Uncle Luke! Sarah Elizabeth Robinson arrived at 8 pounds 3 ounces (the last time she will ever divulge her weight).

Luke is excited and grateful to now be an Uncle six times over (his 6th niece). This is Dawn and Mark's first child and, needless to say, Uncle Luke is very happy too. Well, now we'll have to rechristen him from Yer Big Dog to Uncle Luke!

Welcome to the world, Sarah Elizabeth!

Parrot Heads Part I

Some of you may remember back in Texas we met a feller named Jackie Bryant, the founding member of the North East Texas Parrothead Club, one of many around the country. Is that like the Order of the Bleating Sheep you ask? Your guess was as good as mine.

As I was soon to learn, Parrotheads are Jimmy Buffet fans but to say they're just that is hugely limiting. Their slogan is "Party with a Purpose" and man do they deliver on both promises. These guys are always finding ways to help organizations and have fun during the process and giving to charitable causes is a requirement. You can't even start a chapter without making that commitment. According to Wikipedia, they collectively raised $2.2 million for charities in 2005 and devoted thousands of volunteer hours, too.

Jackie connected us to the Memphis Club and outside of the animal lover world, I couldn't imagine meeting a more giving and good-hearted group of people. Mark and Brandy, one of the families we stayed with there were the most gracious of hosts. They introduced us to Karen (their President) and her husband, Russell. More to come on this cast of characters and some of the cool stories of our time together while in Memphis...

Even though they don't have a Parrothead Club for the Homeless, I consider myself a lifelong member and can't wait to meet more of them along our travels.

III Down in the Delta

It's amazing what you can do when you dig down deep enough inside of yourself. The Arkansas Delta was the most physically challenging leg I've faced thus far. A hundred plus miles of mostly shadeless, shoulderless low lying farmland starting east of Little Rock on Highway 70. Punishing heat in triple digits with humidity hovering around 100%. At night, mosquitoes the size of swallows from all of the fish ponds and rice fields.

If you can lose all that - even briefly - you can appreciate the rich ecosystem that thrives there. Yeah, the mosquitoes are brutal and unrelenting. After four coats of spray I found myself still under constant attack. It was like they were systematically testing my defenses.

But if it wasn't for the abundant mosquito population there you wouldn't find one of the most brilliant array of dragonflies I've ever seen. Like an impressionist painting, some checkered in black in white, others in irridescent greens, yellows, and blues. And feeding off of them are red winged blackbirds, great blue herons, and other egrets indigenous to the area. Simply spectacular the diverse palette of life found in the Delta.

Including people. I was just outside Hazen searching for shade when I saw a sign for Murry's Restaurant. At last - A/C and some ice cold water but when I tried to enter the doors were locked. Open 5pm it said. It wasn't much past noon so I sat on a bench outside, opened my pack, and started snacking on my trailmix. Moments later, a man appeared, shirtless yet wearing an apron. He, too, must've been feeling the effects of the heatwave.

I asked for his permission to rest and repast on his patio. He invited me in and over a glass of sweet tea, offered to make me lunch. That's Stan on the left and he's the chef and proprietor. Should your travels ever take you to Hazen, stop by Murry's. Stan's food is second only to his life stories so make sure you ask him how he became a cook. And try his bread pudding.

It was my last luxury in Arkansas. I went to church that Sunday then walked for the next 24 hours, rested a day, then got back on the road and completed a 60 mile stretch in two days of walking through Crowley's Ridge and almost to West Memphis. One of the most fascinating sights was between Forrest City and Madison, which seemed entirely draped in Kudzu, a highly invasive Southern vine.

If you recall, my last best personal two day record was 41 miles. The Arkansas Delta was too dangerous to walk with the boys but being without them kept me highly motivated. And the heat index encouraged me to keep moving at night. But I couldn't have accomplished it without our host family in Lonoke AR, Larry and Linda. That's him on the left with his two Irish Wolfhounds, Twister and Kermit. We met them through their daughter, Ashley, whose husband, Trey, is over in Iraq. Thanks guys for transporting and providing support to us.

II The Spirit of Malcolm

After noshing at a C-Store grill in Glen Rose, I asked the cashier where I could find a safe place to pitch a tent for the night. Moments of uncomfortable silence followed. Like an RV Park I assured her. There was one a few miles down 67 she said. The sun was setting but if I scooted some serious boot, I could make it. And boy am I glad I did.

JB's RV Park was an unremarkable but welcome sight after being on the road all day and worth the $10 for a tent site. I had just slipped the cash in an envelope under the office door when a man and a boy emerged from a nearby trailer and greeted me. We exchanged pleasantries and I explained I had walked from Austin but being exhausted, left it at that. The boy wished me luck on my journey.

A secluded spot near a bayou beckoned me. I barely had enough energy to make camp and only minutes after I had done so, a truck drove up. What now? The passenger door opened and the boy appeared carrying a plate of food.

As I thanked him and turned towards the tent I saw a dog a stone's throw away staring at me. I must have been too tired to notice the goat pen on the way in but there across from me was a Great Pyrenees puppy. Six, maybe eight months old and covered in mud, he took to me like we were old friends and when I said goodnight to eat my dinner, he jumped into the swamp and swam around the fence line to my side.

Upon seeing this, an elderly man headed him off and after a gentle chiding, returned the Pyr to the pen. And I to my tent but he never left his spot across from me.

Perhaps from exhaustion, the selfless act of generosity a boy showed a stranger, or the spirit of Malcolm I sensed watching over me, I wept. They were tears not of sadness but awe and humility for how could I be blessed by a magical night like this?

And the following morning, I found that puppy exactly in the same spot... He never left my side...