Training: Journey from Park City to Salt Lake City

When Belloc made his journey so many years ago, he made several vows, one of which was to walk no fewer than 30 miles a day.  If I remember correctly, he does not quite fulfill this vow (in fact, he only fulfills one of the vows he takes, that of arriving in Rome on the feast of Ss. Peter and Paul on June 29).  Nevertheless, Ed and I may wind up having to walk 30 miles a day on many of the days, so I thought it would be a good idea to prepare myself for the physical and psychological onslaught by trying out a 30 mile hike, though walk or trek might me a more suitable word than ‘hike.

I determined that I had to complete this hike on Saturday May 10, because it was the only day in my schedule that I did not have at least one obligation to attend to, and I knew I would need the whole day to walk that far.  Knowing that a 30 mile trek was likely to be mentally taxing as well as physical, I decided that I would not walk 15 miles one way and then turn back.  I wanted to start in one place and end in another.  I also decided that I would want to end at home rather than start at home, arrive in a place, and then need to be driven back (though I would have to be driven to my starting point).

St. Mary of the Assumption

After playing around with Google Maps for a little while, I determined that it would be about 30 miles from Park City to Salt Lake City.  In the spirit of the Path to Rome, I decided that it also ought to be a pilgrimage.  I therefore decided to hike from St. Mary’s Catholic Church in PC all the way to the Cathedral of the Madeleine in SLC.  Both churches have some significance for me, the latter obviously because it is my parish and I sing there with their beautiful choir, and the former because we have our faculty retreat there and it is where my roommate and his fiancé will be getting married this summer.

This is the route that I mapped out: http://goo.gl/InO4f0

My backpack and tent

I was determined to incorporate camping into this trip so I could test my one person tent and practice getting gear in and out of my backpack for setting up camp.  So I decided to have my roommate drive me out to St. Mary’s the night before and then find a place to camp nearby where I wouldn’t be arrested or eaten.  My roommate dropped me off and I said a prayer before the church doors that I might find a place to camp.  After searching only a little while, I came to see what had looked like open fields on Google Maps were fenced in private properties.  The only place open to me was the church (symbolic, perhaps).  The property is rather expansive and I found a nice flat patch of grass behind a tree far enough from the highway not to be noticed if you weren’t looking for it.  I stored my food (what little of it I had) far away from camp in another tree, in case there were hungry critters about, and I set up my tent and sleeping bag.  It was cold but not unbearable.  I fell asleep pretty quickly.  Unfortunately, the cold became more unbearable during the night and I finally realized the importance of having sleeping pad.  The ground was very cold, and as a result I could not fall back asleep.  It was 3:35, only 25 minutes before I’d set my alarm anyway, so I began groggily to pack up camp, which took me about 45 minutes.

Before setting out, I went again before the church doors and prayed.  Like a knight with his sword I knelt with my walking stick and prayed for a successful pilgrimage in reparation for my sins and for many other intentions, seeking the intercession of St. Aloysius Gonzaga and St. Gemma Galgani, two of my special patron saints.

I began walking at about 4:25 AM.  It was still night, and somewhat dark, with only the street lamps and headlights to help me at times.  When I got to the I-80 Junction, I stopped at McDonald’s for a coffee and to use their free WiFi and to pause and watch the sunrise.  I prayed the Office of Readings and Morning prayer while awaiting the dawn.  It was about 6 AM at this point.

Then began the bulk of the walk.  For a while, I walked on a road parallel to I-80, until eventually a path went into the mountains, which I needed to take to make my way eventually to Emigration Canyon.  Things were going pretty well.  My pack seemed to be working out pretty well, and my feet were resilient in my new boots.  Clouds hovered but did not break except for a few sprinkles.  The hike in the hills was nice because I felt more removed from civilization (though I was not far at all from it).  I followed the gas line for a while because it was clearly marked, but it did not follow the contour of the hills; it went in a straight line, ascending and descending as needed.  This was rough on the feet and on my resolve having to up and down these very steep climbs repeatedly.  Eventually I took a shortcut to meet up with the path I was supposed to be on.  It was one of the few shortcuts I’d ever taken that was unequivocally successful.

One thing I noticed on this trek was that there is a significant degree of mental anguish on hikes like this.  It just keeps going and going and going with no end in sight.  I’ve felt glimmers of this while running, but at least it’s over in an hour or two (two hours being the most I’ve ever run).  But this was worse!  Walking and walking and feeling like you are making very little progress.  When I got to Emigration Canyon finally, I kept waiting for Ruth’s restaurant to show up, and it wouldn’t reveal itself.  I already knew it was quite some way up into the canyon so the trek beyond it would be long as well.

After finally reaching Ruth’s and resting with a little snack, I began the final part of the journey.  I did not stop for a long rest until I got to my destination, the Cathedral.  It was in this final leg that I finally felt the physical toll.  My shoulders and hips were hurting from the weight of the pack and my speed was greatly reduced.  The mental anguish worsened because I knew I wasn’t going as fast as I wanted to.  But despite the pains, it was a beautiful day with many beautiful sights.

But eventually I did reach the Cathedral, kneeling before its doors as I had done that morning at St. Mary’s and saying the same set of prayers.  Upon entering the church, I saw that Mass was going on, so I remained in the side chapel, saying Vespers silently.  Fr. Martin saw me and spoke with me (wondering at my large backpack and strange outfit (since he normally sees me in suits)), and after telling him about my journey, I asked him if I could light a votive candle for free, since I didn’t have 50 cents.  He said yes, and I lit a candle for my intentions, that my prayer might remain a little while longer after I’d left.

And so from there, I hiked from the Cathedral to my house, which put my mile total at about 31.  I’d gotten to the cathedral at just after 5:30, so it was just over 13 hours to walk 30 miles, which is a little over 2 miles an hour.  Not bad, but I don’t know if I’ll be ready to do that every day for a month.

The next day, I was sore but happy.

Preparatory Pilgrimage Part 2: At the Monastery

In the first post, Theophilus, I wrote about all that the pilgrim walked and hiked from the beginning, until the day he was taken into the monastery (cf Acts 1: 1-2a).

As the reader has previously seen, I arrived safely at the monastery.  In Part 2, I'd like to share with you what I did and thought about during my time there.  This post will thus be more of a spiritual reflection than any of my previous posts, so its feel may seem quite different.  But part of the purpose of this blog is to make the proper spiritual preparation for the Path to Rome.  I need not just physical training, but spiritual training as well.

After a fitful sleep dealing with a cough, I woke for Lauds and Mass with the monks.  This place is enriched with prayer.  Being the only one on retreat, I ate breakfast basically alone.  I attempted to read drowsily in the library, and I discovered a book about John XXIII when he was nuncio to France.  It reminded me of reading Journal of a Soul long ago and which I've picked up again now in light of the recent canonization.  After a much needed nap, I woke to the arrival of some young folks from Washington who were also going to be staying on retreat.  The group was led by a youth pastor and consisted mostly of high school seniors as well as a fellow from Hillsboro roughly my own age. It was really cool to talk with them throughout my time there. After dinner, we all went for a hike to watch the sunset on a nearby hill. What a beautiful and graced moment we shared! As I compiled my notes in the evening, I decided to come up with a word for the day. My word for that day: Repose. It was a grand day of rest, which, after three quarters of teaching, was much needed.

On Wednesday, being more rested, I was more successful in my reading.  I began with Story of a Soul (not to be confused with Journal of a Soul), by St. Therese of Lisieux.  She mentioned the importance of Bible reading and also the benefits of reading Imitation of Christ, which I had fortuitously decided to bring with me.  Being inspired, I decided to read the Bible.  For much time in recent days, I'd been thinking about King Solomon.  I therefore decided to read 1 Kings 1-6, 8-11 (I skipped chapter 7 because it just described the building of the temple) and to meditate on the fall of Solomon.  How could one so wise and powerful have fallen so?  It made me sad.

In the afternoon, I began reading Imitation.  It was challenging, to say the least.  I'll have to think on it more deeply.  At dinner, we listened to a recording of Thomas Merton about the purification of love, and it tied in with what I had read earlier.  I was amused at Thomas Merton's voice; he sounded like a voice actor from an old Warner Brothers cartoon, see?  He'd almost every sentence with see, see?  But his words occupied much more of my mind.  He talked about how perfected love means that I must rejoice over someone else's good fortune as I would if I had encountered good fortune myself.  I definitely don't do that.  Alas.  My word for that day: Humility.  Solomon lacked humility, Imitation showed me how I lacked humility, and Thomas Merton showed me how love needs humility.

On Thursday, the guys made preparations to leave.  I enjoyed the time I spent with them, and after a few last Skyrim references, they departed.  Finding myself alone once again, I did a lot of reading.  One of the brothers also had gotten out a jigsaw puzzle which I worked on a bit.  Eucharistic Adoration was held during the afternoon, and I volunteered for a half hour.  How wonderful to spend time alone with the Lord!  Between prayers and reading later on, I worked on the puzzle.  By evening it was finished.  The remainder of my evening was spent packing.  My word for that day: Solitude.  But it was a kind of holy solitude alone with God.

In the end, I would say it was a fruitful retreat.  I wish I would have been able to spend a little more time there, but even if I couldn't stay, I could take what I'd learned with me on my hike back and beyond: my need for repose, temporary solitude, and above all Humility.

Preparatory Pilgrimage Part 1: Journey to Huntsville

The Monastery (picture not taken by me)

A few weeks ago, I decided to make a mini-pilgrimage partly in order to begin training for the Path to Rome.  I thought such a journey would be a good preparation because of its combination of strenuous hiking and spiritual development.  I'd actually wanted to attempt this trip last summer, but I was never able to have a long enough span of time to complete it.  The original plan of this trip was to hike from Salt Lake City up to the Our Lady of the Holy Trinity Abbey in Huntsville (run by the Trappists), remain there on retreat for a few days, and then return the same way I had come.  My spring break this year afforded me the time I needed to make the journey properly.  The intended dates for the hike/retreat were March 30 - April 5: 2 days of hiking, 3 days of retreat, and 2 days of hiking back.

Being the season of Lent, it was the perfect time for a retreat.  I called up to the abbey to make arrangements for my arrival on Monday night and a subsequent four night stay, with plans to leave early Thursday morning.  I would be there a full three days.  I planned to bring some spiritual reading, some chants and copies of pages from my breviary, but not much else, other than what was required for the hike itself.  I made a point not to bring anything pertaining to work along with me so that I could truly give my time to God.

As for the hike itself, I prepared my day pack with many things.  I went to a few sporting goods places to fill out my supplies, but I already owned most of the stuff I would need.  The main thing to do was to map the hike itself.  I completed the mapping pretty far in advance.  I used my subscription to alltrails.com to discern some accurate trails along the ridges of the Wasatch mountains.  I determined that I could make the hike in two days with about 25 miles per day, which is about what Ed and I will have to do this summer.  I planned to camp near Bountiful Peak (despite the fact that the campgrounds were closed).

Unfortunately, most of this planning was all for naught.  I left on Sunday after Mass at the Cathedral, heading up City Creek Canyon, where the trail would eventually connect with the Great Western Trail and run along the Wasatch Mountains.  As I left the Cathedral, the clouds had already begun to gather.  And as I began to head up the canyon, it started to rain.  This isn't so bad, I thought, I'm an

It got even worse than this.  I turned back at Mile 5 1/2.

Oregonian; this is nothing.  I got out my gloves and put the rain cover over my bag.  My wool sport coat (given to me by Ed last summer, incidentally) repelled the rain nicely.  As I made my way up past the gate that
prevents cars from going further up the canyon, it got a bit colder and began to snow.  At first, it wasn't too bad, but it only got worse.  I continued on, trusting in God's help but also asking God for the prudence to turn back when necessary.  After three long hours of nonstop snow (in April, mind you), I finally decided to turn back (probably a little later than was prudent, but I survived, so it's okay).  I got home wet and cold and tired and despondent for failing to accomplish my mission.  The worst was that I couldn't try again the next day even if the weather was better because the monastery was expecting me the next night.

The Oaks

Farr Better

The next day, I almost decided just to drive the whole way, but I instead gave myself a consolation prize.  I would drive to Ogden and hike from there.  I parked at my old school's parking lot, nestled at the foot of the mountains, and hiked through Ogden Canyon.  It was fairly easy, although the road's shoulder got narrow at times (though not unsafe for a cautious traveler).  There were two construction workers I must have passed 4 or 5 times because I'd pass them installing a marker of some kind, they would drive past a few minutes later, and then I'd pass them again putting in another marker.  They waved the first couple of times, but then after the fourth time, I guess they got used to it.  The canyon dragged on for quite some time until I reached 'The Oaks,' a fantastic restaurant I've only actually been to once or twice.  I got a cup of two flavors of ice cream: Brownies on the Moon (chocolate with marshmallows or something), and something with moose in the name (with peanut butter cups).  It was the perfect meal to restore my energy.

The second day hike: from Ogden to Huntsville

Shortly after The Oaks, I arrived at Pineview Reservoir, home of the mysterious sea creature (ask Peter III to hear that story, if you know him).  Walking along the southern shore, I made my way to Huntsville.  I stopped to rest at some point and prayed Vespers overlooking the water.  It was a quiet beautiful moment.

Where I prayed Vespers

Continuing on, I passed by St. Florence Catholic Church, which I did not know existed.  I discovered later that it is a mission church of St. Joseph's in Ogden, my old parish from when I lived there.  The doors were locked, but I met a young man outside praying in front of a shrine to Mary.  I explained to him my pilgrimage and asked for his prayers.  As I made my way again, he drove by in his car and offered me a lift, worried that I may not make it to the monastery before the gates closed.  Confident in my pace and wanting to preserve what was left of my already halved journey, I declined.  I told him I'd pray for him, but I forgot to ask his name.  Alas.

St. Florence Catholic Church

Upon my arrival in the town of Huntsville, I met a couple of ladies outside the convenience store.  I asked if they had any maps of the town available (in case I decided to make Huntsville another Small Town Adventure (more on these later)).  The lady who worked there obliged.  The other lady asked me what I was doing, being dressed so strangely with a large backpack.  I explained I was on a journey (though I did not elaborate that I was going to the monastery), and made my way.  I quickened my pace in order to make it to the gate on time.  Upon my arrival at the gate at 7:50 PM, I discovered that it was another half mile to the monastery itself!  What a long half mile!  As I passed the guest house, I heard a voice call out to me.  It turned out to be one of the ladies from the gas station who'd talked to me.  She was apparently also going on retreat at the monastery.  What a small world (which one can expect in Huntsville, I suppose).

The Gate at Twilight

Brother Joseph let me in and allowed me to select from the available rooms.  For some silly reason, I picked the room farthest away from the bathroom.  With sore legs and sorer feet, this was quite the penance I suppose.  Each room was labeled with a saint's name, and I picked St. Joseph in honor of my old school and parish in Ogden.  I went to sleep after jotting down some notes from the day, knowing full well I would have to wake up at 6:00 AM for Lauds and Mass.  Ah, the monastic life!

So ended the first day of my preparatory pilgrimage, and so ends my first post about it.  In the second part, I will talk briefly (if possible) about my experiences at the monastery and the journey home.