Part 4 of 5
by Bob Sullivan
As we headed out of Peabody, Kan., the rain stopped, but we could see dark clouds northwest of us which I hoped to be moving to the northeast. After about an hour, it was apparent that it was moving directly toward us.
At about the time the rain hit, we were on a dirt road, and had walked about half a mile north of a couple of farmsteads. The support team checked with the families who owned the farmhouses and they gladly allowed us to get out of the open and out of the path of potential lightning and crowd into their barns, under their awnings and onto their covered porches.
It took about 30 minutes for the rain to pass, and it left us with a very slick and muddy path forward. We retraced our earlier steps through mud and standing water. Instead of 9 miles of that, the organizers detoured us to the nearest paved road, which meant only 3 miles of mud and muck.
Most of us were simply walking, so it was slow, but with some care and patience it could be accomplished. There were, however, families with young children in strollers. These were not the typical strollers meant for trips through the grocery aisle or a stroll through the neighborhood though, which helped. The strollers on the pilgrimage had larger spoked wheels similar to a small bicycle. Nonetheless, the wheels and the bottoms of the strollers quickly picked up thick layers of mud and proved to be very difficult to push down the road. They looked more like sleds than strollers after a few yards.
Trucks could not follow us down the road after 275 people (and a few strollers) made the road even more impassable, so there was nothing to do but turn around or keep pushing forward. Forward they pushed. The dads I saw pushing the strollers didn’t want or need any help. They put their shoulders into it and although they reached the pavement later than the rest of us, they made it.
The families on the pilgrimage were quite the inspiration. Tiny kids walked right along with us, encouraged and sometimes assisted by their parents, but rarely in need of reprimand. On one break a little girl with seven siblings was proposing some troublesome issue to her father when I heard him say, “I have to be honest with you, there really isn’t anything I can do about that.” On a pilgrimage, even the most innocent can share in the sufferings of Christ.
The detour added about 5 miles to our walk on Saturday, but getting out of the mud and onto the pavement helped everyone. However, the detour also put the pilgrimage on uncharted territory. The organizers had never had to detour this far off of the usual routes, so they did not have as many farmers who were familiar with the pilgrimage. Because of this, we had our lunch on a Department of Roads maintenance yard. Thankfully, we were blessed with some remaining cloud cover, so the lack of shade was not a serious issue as the temperature and the humidity increased.
We were a pretty rough-looking group of pilgrims by lunchtime. Most people had some rain protection, so our shirts and heads were dry, but nearly everyone had mud splatters well above their knees. Nonetheless, spirits were high. Awareness of the misery of the Death March 70 years ago made things like wet and muddy shoes, blisters and sore feet easier to endure.
After about 21 miles, the slow-moving pilgrimage turned into a farm 8 miles south of Pilsen. The clouds had moved away and the temperatures had risen, but not too hot, yet the lure of a cold shower rested foremost on my mind.
After the local Knights of Columbus and other volunteers fed us as many hamburgers, hot dogs, and side dishes as we could eat, Chase Kear told us about his miraculous and full recovery from a smashed skull when he missed the pit while pole vaulting as a college track athlete. His doctors said there was no scientific explanation for his recovery. He went on to continue pole vaulting once he was cleared by his doctors. The photograph of Chase a few weeks into recovery supports the doctors’ conclusions. 1
After Chase’s story, the curator of the Father Kapaun Museum in Pilsen told the group about the many stories visitors and callers tell her each year: stories of conversion, stories of healing, and stories of veterans who tell their loved ones and healthcare providers that Father Kapaun is standing near them, as they slip from this world to the next. The stories were so good we made it to 10 p.m. that night.
As we pitched our tent that night, we staked it down well because the weather reports predicted strong thunder storms from 2 to 10 a.m. By 3 a.m., the sky was nearly constantly bright with lightning and the cracks of thunder were occasionally deafening.
Thankfully there were no extremely high winds, so no tents blew down. Many tents did fill up though. Some pilgrims had to retreat to sheds or the porch of the house, and many of us prayed a rosary or two during the storms. I prayed a rosary as the storm started and after it was evident that our tent was not only going to stay up, but also dry, I slept.
The organizers woke us up at 6:30 a.m., just as the last raindrops of the day fell, so we were able to pack our tents without any trouble at all. Some people had to wring out their clothing and sleeping bags though, so the trailers hauling all the gear pulled out riding a little lower on their axels than the previous days. Some areas near Pilsen reported receiving 5 inches of rain that night.
1 "The Miracle Of Father Kapaun, Priest, Soldier And Korean War Hero," Ignatius Press, 2009
