“We Don’t Get Too Many Walkers Out Here:” Into the High Plains of Kansas
To hike through the Ark Valley in December as migratory geese flock in formation by the thousands…
To catch one last glimpse of fading peaks backlit by another setting sun, such height I once stood atop, breathless…
To witness the death and rebirth of the resilient but struggling Arkansas River, to hike along and camp upon her dry and sandy bed…
To cross the High Plains on foot, the sky larger than life, the sandy dunes filling my shoes with grit…
To pass Christmas Eve night camped in a nearly barren field, shoots of green daring to thrive in the unseasonably warm weather…
To wake Christmas morning to the drench of fog and hike the day across a beautiful prairie, yet unplowed, the reddish hues dancing across the backdrop of grey tones…
To arrive in Missouri and do it all again, a new song but a familiar beat!
December 9, 2024 from Rocky Ford, Colorado:
And with a whisper they return…
their place upon the mantle
(my last view of the Colorado Rocky Mountains)
What a wild turnaround today!.. from a warm, sunny forecast back to winter in a heartbeat. At least I don’t have to carry all that winter gear.
Last night I found a nice concrete slab to pitch on along a county road, one of those abandoned cattle ranch setups with machinery and collapsing buildings about. Other than a bit of coyote commotion, a quiet and restful night. Off in the distance I could enjoy the blue glow of the penitentiary I had walked past earlier in the evening, hoping I would not be mistaken by a reactionary for the axe murderer some seem assured I must be. A peaceful night, my legs and feet moving strong, my heart eager to finally cross another state line in short time, so many challenges I remain determined to overcome…
The morning sun now blinding my path, the setting beauty I must remember to turn and face, breath taking as always! A hard earned reminder,
The cost always returns.
December 12, 2024 from Lamar, Colorado:
Southeastern Colorado has been a wild ride, from cotton fields to zebras…my first bighorn sheep sighting came walking past someone’s cluttered yard (three of them!)…
I seem to have regained my stride, the miles coming easier by the day (25-30!). My body, heart and head seem to have synchronized once again as I wander further into the Great Plains. The nights have been bitter cold. The other night I woke to what I swore was the sound of snow…only in my tent!
On the other hand, the flash freezing helps to keep me dry. My sleeping bag collects moisture on the outside, but I can easily dry it in a couple minutes on the side of the road with a little sun or a breeze. I sleep in my hard shells so long as they’re dry and wake routinely around 3 am a little chilled, though a little snacking or phone browsing brings me back to a cozy warmth until my alarm reminds me l’m in the middle of an open field and best be on my way.
I reluctantly poke my head out from within my cave-like refuge to confirm my ice drenched reality. My reward for the struggle has been an endless horizon dimly but beautifully lit by the soon-to-rise sun. I pack with haste, my gear designed to keep me warm in motion, not sitting about exposed.
The days have been sunny and warm, but with an arctic breeze. As I hike, my layers require constant adjusting to keep those pesky pores from opening, staying dry a non-negotiable these days. Yesterday I noticed a little ice inside my water filter pump. They say the filter itself will resist freezing down to zero, but clearly the pump housing is another story. Fortunately this pump has a simple test procedure to ensure the filter has not been compromised. More fortunate yet, it tested out good.
The pump now sleeps under my bag with me and rides insulated during the day. In the current weather, I can comfortably hike 36 hours on two liters and I can stretch a little more if I need to, a relief from this summer when the search for spigots consumed my day.
The challenges out here are real and ever changing as I enter my fourth full season of this hike, but the local cows always keep my spirits high, always eager and curious, this unusual human!
December 16, 2024 from Garden City, Kansas:
If the sky were any bigger I’d have no land left to walk upon…I’d have to learn to fly.
A fine start to Kansas indeed. In just two days I’ve left all trace of the past behind, the miles falling fast and easy across pancake terrain, camping easier yet as the fields lie bare and wanting. I simply wander far enough from the typically quiet dirt road to rest invisible through the night. Though mornings rise early, I find myself eager to gaze once again upon the rising sun, the vast empty between us, my view of the expanse interrupted only by the structures of human design. I’ll continue to long for the view of ancient time, my imagination now suffice, as the arctic wind whips across this high plain, my bottles dare to freeze though the sun brings such warmth my layers quickly fall, I hike nearly as bare as the land before me.
Nighttime temps have risen a few points, humidity has dropped, my tent has dried out, for now I’m waking in what feels much less like an ice fortress. I take what I can get while I can get it. My evening cooking routine has aided in the drying trend in what passes for my “indoor” space. I’ll walk through Garden City shortly, my next significant resupply, after which things get small and far for a bit as I return to grid walking mostly dirt county roads, a whole lot of “left, then right, then left, then…
Nebraska dances in my mind as I remember the trauma of never knowing certain my next drink, the “evil orb” (the very same I now call “friend!”) suffocating more each dragging step. These days I mostly forget I haven’t had a sip in hours, plenty for cooking, plenty for all.
And the sunsets, my god, the sunsets!
December 18, 2024 from Dodge City, Kansas:
It feels as if I’m walking amongst ghosts these days! I crossed the Ark River yesterday outside Garden City, but only saw dust, “a mistake,” I thought. Then I crossed it again to enter Ingalls, again, more dust. I cross referenced my map to be sure I was where I thought I was, having just two days earlier drank from my steady companion across these plains. Indeed I stood correct, looking down upon a desert where water should flow.
I decided to deviate a bit from that blue line on my gpx map to hike along the now sandy flow of what had been a haven for hiker and goose alike. I took that time to search The Google for answers. A combination of shady politics and practice, along with our growing but mostly ignored climate catastrophe, has left the Arkansas River completely dry between Lakin and Great Bend, where surface flow apparently returns…for now!
I grow attached to these rivers, namely the Platte to the north and the Ark here to the south, that maintain such a steady presence along my course for hundreds of miles. They steady and assure me as I press my limits across a challenging land. I camped last night, not on the banks (as per usual!) but on the riverbed of the struggling Arkansas River. I woke this morning to hike a bit more with my disappeared friend before returning to the county roads that aid in my brisk flight across the state of Kansas.
My heart hurts, as it often does out here, this land deserving far better from us humans, not as “stewards” but as partners and citizens within an increasingly less diverse ecological system, diversity we have incessantly stripped in our refusal to live as we should, small and connected…to each other and to our world…
December 24, 2024 from McPherson, Kansas:
When I hiked 40 miles in a single day to cross the Indiana-Illinois state line back in June, I set a personal best but my entire nervous system shut down and I nearly broke my feet!
Yesterday I danced into the night along another sandy county road, a bit wobbly by the end but my stride never faltered, my feet never fussed. I sat down once all day, late in the evening at a Subway in Lyons to eat some cookies and drink a soda. But mostly I just wanted to sit indoors for an hour and borrow some WiFi.
By the time I pitched my tent at 1:30 in the morning, I had covered 50 miles in about 19 hours from tent down to tent up. My alarm would go off at 5:30, which gave me three hours to sleep after cooking another gourmet rendition of ramen parm. I added extra electrolytes to my water and drank what I could while leaving enough for the 21 miles I just hiked into McPherson by this afternoon, an important opportunity to sit indoors again and charge batteries before heading back into the Kansas countryside as I enter my final week on this trek through the long state of Kansas.
December 30, 2024 from Lawrence, Kansas:
This foolish hiker arrived in Lawrence this evening after hiking through hours of misting rain that increased in intensity as darkness settled deeper and deeper, 35 miles with the certainty of more to follow…but first the ritual of coffee and electricity under the golden arches. A significant moment, as this urban hub marks the beginning of my final Kansas segment, some 54 miles remaining to the Missouri border!
The last couple days departed from the typical Kansas grid walk as I followed the mostly peaceful Flint Hills Trail, a rail trail with the typical rail amenities, including two trailhead camps complete with picnic shelter and vault toilet, only the second of which added the perk of another wellness and criminal check as I prepared my morning breakfast.
Now comes The Urban…my friend, my foe. On the other side the reward looms large, as Missouri offers an almost entirely long distance trail hike through towns accustomed to such foolishness. It also only spans about 300 miles, a quite manageable amount of math to do as winter weather appears ready to hit me in stride.
My mind has already traveled ahead, my body reminding me to stay present as I’ve grown increasingly tired, the cumulative fatigue that is, of the relentless assaults on my capacity to care for myself, always veiled as kindness, the officer this morning greeting me as “brother” just before running my license to verify my outstanding warrant status…I think I understand family differently!
“It’s kind of cold, isn’t it?,” they always tell me…I laugh,
having already hiked through blizzards and hard freezes at 8-10k with the nearest services at least a hard day away through snow at my knees and rising higher,
I laugh once more,
these fools don’t care to see…
January 1, 2025 from Kansas City, Missouri:
I swear the harder I hiked these past few days, the more Kansas stretched and flexed to keep me there longer, my journey along the yellow brick road far from over. But alas here I sit, at the stateline McDonald’s (Missouri side of course… I’m no fool!).
Though foolish may come to pass as I continue to eye the forecast, the one with single digit nights and frigid days. I have some days yet to prepare, having just stopped by a poor man’s REI (thrift!), fortunately open this New Year’s Day, to see how I might breathe new life into the discard of another time. I have some sewing and cutting to do, a fleece pull over soon to become an over-the-head face masking gator, the sleeves left as sleeves or lower leggings as needed.
I also found an imitation down jacket, synthetic stuffing that is, that I think will serve well as the additional warm layer I’m certain to need. I love the vibe of this jacket as much as I hope it’ll keep me warm, pinstripes down the arms of a blue fabric with a simple black and white logo of a mountain peak and a crescent moon. All in all, a successful day of thrifting, I think, out here on the trail!
The labor never ceases; the tasks pile on far more often than they jump off during this winter hiking season, each relief a concession to make…the daytime warmth in Kansas meant I had to carry my heavy winter layers! While the masses cry out for the fool walking into the cold and darkness of a solitary night, I hope more will come to know the joy and beauty of a life lived of labor, a story written not given…
indeed a forgotten space.
Update from and preview of Missouri:
I woke to a chill and checked my phone…1:38 am and 8 degrees with 7 more to drop! I busied myself with simple minded tasks…seal off any draft, munch on a strawberry wafer, check to be sure my feet are still attached!!
I feel the warmth in my struggling pad return, the smothering of a dry heat wrapping around my neck, I fall back asleep…the alarm sounds! I check my phone once more…5 am and 2 degrees with 1 more to drop. I munch another wafer and light my stove…back to work!!
I take to the mundane tasks of packing and stuffing, I warm my rock frozen shoes by the blue glowing fire to ensure my feet don’t become the very same, the drip-drip of a thawing tent assures me I am warm.
Out to the cold, I pack with haste, no time to loose but heat I must retain…now 1 degree with 3.5 miles to my blessed golden arches, my tent expanding each day, each day harder to stuff in my pack…I walk, I arrive.
I think I want my finishers medal to read:
“…but he did not die!”
Happy trails from one crazy ass trail!
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Comments 12
I enjoy your writing style and stories from these places “less hiked”. All the best on your journey, may the sun peek out to warm you up as much as possible!
Amazing how warm that sun can feel when the air temp is 15 and the night temp is 1! And thank you!!
Brave young man to walk in the harsh cold weather. The temperatures here in New Mexico right now are bitter cold. Saw that you visited garden city. I lived there a few years back. The town has grown since 1982. Have enjoyed your photos. Happy travels and be safe out there. We live in an uncertain scary world. You just might meet some friendly people and some crazy ones too. If your ever this direction stop and see us! New Mexico is a beautiful place!
Just today someone insisted I get in their car and warm up a bit, another offered me loads of chocolate!
I am enjoying reading about your travels. Your photos are phenomenal. Stay safe and warm out there!
Thank you so much!
Fantastic! Amazingly, I enjoyed your travels and dialog along the way. Kansas is my home and can imagine trekking across the state in Spring and not winter. Surly, not in the heat of summer either. You brave soul, keep it up.
I found Kansans to be phenomenally supportive of a fool wandering around in their backyard at a weird time of year. I got offered so many rides I could have put Uber out of business! I especially enjoyed how so many people referred to me as “a traveler”…I love it, I think I’ll keep it!!
Fantastic text and photos. I really hope you plan to write a book. it would be such a shame if your work was lost.
So much work product off this hike, I’m gonna have to pull my tiny home trailer into the Colorado Rockies when this is all done, get lost for some months reading, writing and printing proper stills!
Your beyond tough to do what you do mentally and physically I hitchhiked around the western us and Canada after high-school in the early 80s and can appreciate your perseverance,you took it a big step further than I as you went during the cold winter months,I miss the road and adventure the people the freedom makes you appreciate everything, stay safe in your jouneys
To pay forward some words offered to me by a fellow traveler,
“The road is no life; it’s thee life”
And thank you from Illinois!