So I went off the trail for a week and used that time to get a lot done at home and to drive to Utah for Memorial Day. We are now on our way back to California and the trail and spending the night in Cedar City Utah. I will either restart on the trail tomorrow night or very early Wednesday morning based on how the driving goes tomorrow. But this gives me a little time to reflect on Memorial Day. This year Memorial Day and Pentecostal Sunday are on the same weekend. Pentecostal Sunday is basically the birthday of the Catholic Church. The day that 11 scared Apostles received the Holy Spirit and went from scared, weak men, to embolden evangelizers who proudly told of the life, death, and resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ. Men who all endured terrible deaths rather than deny their faith. I am embarrassed to say that for the greatest part of my life, Memorial Day has meant nothing to be other than a opportunity for 3 days of self-centered activities and relaxation. However, for some reason, in 2011 I was driven to go visit my Dad on Memorial Day weekend. That weekend he showed me what Memorial Day was suppose to be as he took me to all the grave sites that he decorated with flowers and grave sites of my ancestors all around Northern Utah. This turned out to be his last Memorial Day. I believe it was the Holy Spirit that drove me to Utah that year just so that I could be trained by Dad in the meaning of Memorial Day and to continue his tradition. So for the past 3 years that is what we have tried to do. We start the trip in southern Utah (Milford) and decorate the graves to Lenora’s relatives and her sister who lived but 3 years. We then move up to Salt Lake City and decorate the graves of Lenora’s parents who are buried at Fort Williams. We then move up to Brigham City and decorate the graves of my parents and of my GrandParents and of Dads siblings. It is always a beautiful and emotional time. Here are some of the pictures….

Let me tell you an amazing story. While I was on the trail, Lenora went to a Catholic Answers Conference and while there she met a couple from Salt Lake City Utah; Susi and Todd Brown. She told me what a wonderful couple they were and wished that I could meet them. We were in Salt Lake this last Sunday. I found a Church near our hotel that we could go to that morning. A total random act. When we arrived Lenora asked me to pick out where we should sit, which I did. A total random act. We were a little early and about 10 minutes later a couple comes in and sits in front of us. We really did not pay much attention because Mass is not a social event and we were getting ourselves ready for the service to begin. Part of the Mass is to give those around you some sign of peace to indicate that you are indeed at peach with your neighbor. The couple in front of us was none other than Susi and Todd Brown. God is at work in our/your lives!!!

Speaking of Catholic Answers, Kark Keating, the founder of Catholic Answers blogged about Lenora’s and my PCT adventures. You can see his blog here: Karl Keating Blog on PCT

Lenora’s Note: A memorial is a tribute to those who went before us. We remember their love, their service and their sacrifice. With our break from the Great PCT Adventure I find myself not thinking about finding my wet, bedraggled and discouraged spouse but rather about the legacy of those we honor. So what would these men and women who went before us think of this “Adventure”? We don’t have photos of my Grandma and Grandpa Winklers graves. They are in Canada and I’ve never seen their graves but my Grandpa Max left the U.S. to farm wheat in Saskatchewan and I think he must have had an adventurous soul. My Grandma Lenora would approve of my chosen role in this adventure. Gpa Max grew wheat while Gma Lenora grew the vegetables that fed her 9 children and the farmhands. She would understand I think my support person duties.

Gpa Charlie would think we are both crazy, he would shake his head and chuckle and inside he would celebrate his son’s courage and rejoice that retirement came in time to embark on a joint adventure. Gma Mickey would be so proud of her son and she would tell me again how happy she is that he picked a wife who would challenge him to step out of his comfort zone and experience new things. I so miss her constant love and support. My dad, Gpa Garthe had the soul of a rambler, an explorer and an unending curiosity about the world. He would want to be on the adventure with us. My mom, Gma Helen, packed the best picnic boxes in the world and she hated to be dirty. She would laugh to see her dirty tom-boy daughter electing to pack the picnic and carry treats to her husband and any hikers she encounters along the way. My dad’s mom Marie’s gravestone would not photograph it is so worn (we intend to fix that next year) but she raised my dad and his brother as a single parent and I look at her beautiful portrait and see strength and love and courage. She would wonder why a man who can buy his own car would elect to walk to Canada but she would love the impulse to see the world. My baby sister Martha Ann died at the age of 3. Her red hair fell in tangled curls beyond her shoulders even though mom tried to tame it into orderly ringlets. She ran everywhere and laughed like there was no tomorrow. She was a flash of brilliant light in our lives and she would (and does) race ahead on the trail, laughing and daring Don to catch her.

Are we crazy? Without a doubt. Do we come by it naturally. Also, without a doubt. Thank you to all those who went before us showing us that it is ok to take a chance, risk something and live fully the life God grants us.

So the consensus is on our side, it is a risk but what an adventure.