Down to Egypt

On to Cartagena

2012-02-24T11:42:00.000Z

The hospitality in Antas rejuvenated me, and I had a day on a quiet road along the cliffs over the Mediterranean that lifted my spirits even further. I camped on a cliff with a nearby island full of raucous seagulls to keep me company, and the next day passed through a nice little city called Aguilas, which was preparing its Carnival festivities. I camped again in a solitary spot near Garrobillo. The next day had me feeling sorry for myself at times, as I couldn't find the road that was going to be my shortcut after getting through Sierra del Contar, and my knees hurt. But just as I was ready to throw a tantrum, like a madman in the desert, I came across the little beach village of Calnegre. I asked for water in a cafe, and the brothers that ran the place gave me not only water but salami sandwiches as well. It wasn't long before I was cursing again, however, as I couldn't find that other shortcut to Bolnuevo either, and when I did find it, after making some of my own shortcuts through greenhouse farms, it was a winding, rocky, up and down dirt road that, while beautiful so near the sea, was also arduous. When I reached Bolnuevo I continued walking in the dark tyhrough wealthy neighborhoods to Puerto de Mazarron, where I was hoping for my next couchsurfing host. Instead, the city hosted me with a parkbench and a 4 a.m. shower with its sprinkler system. In the early morning hours I had a revelation: that when I have reached Egypt, I will go home and devote my life to helping the homeless. There is a reason for our difficult times in life, I am convinced.
The next day I was happy again, walking along the coast, then through Sierra de la Muela to within ten kilometers or so of Cartagena, where I camped again, overlooking the city and the vast, populated plain to its north. Yesterday I arrived in the ancient town, and last night stayed with two very kind people, Maite and Ignacio.

The Very Big Village of Antas

2012-02-23T12:47:00.000Z

With my host in Antas, Diego Garcia

Carnival in Antas

Diego hard at work at Cafeteria Leo

In Cafeteria Leo, two customers before...

and after donning their Carnival costumes

More of Carnival

Diego's parents, who treated me and others to a wholesome paella lunch

Later, at a birthday party

The birthday boy in the middle, Pedro

Guests enjoying the party

Diego and his sister in the middle.
Thank you, Antas!

Almeria, Tomatoes, Clint Eastwood, Mountains and Mediterranean Beaches

2012-02-23T12:22:00.000Z

Part of my road east of Almeria

What they grow east of Almeria

Where they grow them

After a frosty 'desert' night

The site of one or two Eastwood gunfights, in the village of Albaricoques

A road worthy of a Western

Second campsite out of Almeria

The view from the living room

Around Cabo de Gato and back to the sea

...only to be faced with another cape to go over, not around this time

...and the view from the top

My hotel upon reaching the sea again

My hotel room; no running water or electricity, but free, and warm

Sunrise the next day

In Antas

2012-02-18T17:20:00.001Z

After talking the ears off of my hosts Hugo and Kelly, then enjoying the hospitality of Indira, her friends and family from Mexico, and finally enjoying the company of fellow peacemaker Antonio, I set out from Almeria. Having passed kilometers of tomato greenhouses I camped in an arroyo and tossed and turned all night in the cold. The next day I chanced upon a village called Albaricoques, and learned from an English expat that some Clint Eastwood gunfight scenes were filmed there back in the sixties. I camped again that night, and returned to the coast at Carboneras. The road from Carboneras to Mojacar was an intolerable climb, but the view was grand. Still, I was nostalgic for the flat Florida coast of my boyhood. Having got over the point, I was back at the coast and I had a free room in an abandoned tower. Today I walked through Mojacar, a resort town, and I am now enjoying yet more couchsurfing hospitality at the hands of Diego Garcia and his family in the village of Antas, where Carnival is underway, and where I've already wolfed down paella and lingered in a hot shower.

Hosts, and now Friends in Almeria

2012-02-14T17:19:00.000Z

Hugo, from Almeria, and Kelly, from Kansas signing the petitions

Hugo and Kelly cheerfully advertise the pilgrimage

Indira signs a petition

Not including the perritos, all from Puebla, Mexico, from l to r; Indira; her son, Carlos; Veronica, and Javier

Antonio with his mode of transport

...and with his own sign from 'Occupy Almeria'

Almeria

2012-02-14T17:09:00.000Z

Cathedral

Al Cazaba

La Playa

View of the port from Al Cazaba

The Mediterranean Sea

Downtown

Billboards in the port town of Beni Enzar

2012-02-11T17:58:00.000Z

Some Sights from Nador

2012-02-11T17:45:00.001Z

Fishing in Sebkha bou Areq

My room at the Hotel El Assad, cold water only, but a roof over my head

The view of Beni Enzar while on the road. I was taking a break, eating dates and offered some to the police following me. They flashed their lights as if to say, "No, thank you."

The goats in Morocco prefer palm trees

Almeria, Spain

2012-02-11T17:05:00.000Z

I am in Almeria, Spain, relaxing a bit with my hosts, Kelly, from the USA, and Hugo, from Spain.
My final day in Morocco was another interesting day of having the police accompany me as I walked from Nador to the port, a distance of some 10 kilometers. They employed the usual tactics, not very discreetly following me with one car behind me, on the shoulder, and another passing slowly by, going back the other way, then passing again. Once I reached the port terminal there were several plain clothes policemen around ( I know this because I asked them and they confirmed it), one offering tea or coffee, which I declined, another at almost the same time telling me to hurry up through passport control. Once through they were waiting to take me into their office and check my bag. They weren't very interested in what was in my bag, but they were very interested in my map, notebooks, and petitions. They asked me again what the petitions were for, what my purpose had been on this pilgrimage, where I was going next, and what my final destination was. When they were satisfied I was not intending to return to Morocco, they thanked me, wished me the best of luck, and released me. I boarded the 'Wisteria', and that was the end of my police escort.
In the end, I believe the police in Morocco are nervous about the anniversary of the 20th of February Movement, which may have people in the streets wanting more reforms. Perhaps they didn't want me reporting on any such possible protests, or perhaps they thought my pilgrimage to Egypt is a pro-democracy, pro-Arab Spring platform. In the first case, I may have 'reported' what I saw in my blog, but they certainly overestimate the size of my audience. Today, for example, 6 people in Morocco have viewed my blog. In the second case, they are simply wrong. I am walking to Egypt to promote peace in the Middle East, and in the world; I am walking to connect people, communities and cultures; and I am walking simply because it is something I am led to do.
Morocco does indeed need progressive political reform; there is a high level of poverty and illiteracy, and as Bob Marley said, "A hungry man is an angry man." There is also clearly a lack of freedom of the press.
May the King of Morocco use his responsibility and leadership, then, to take care of his people, and allow the 20th of February Movement to fade away of its own accord; and this is certainly not a pro-democracy, pro- Arab Spring statement.

In Nador, and Ready for Spain

2012-02-08T19:28:00.000Z

I am in Nador, ready to catch the ferry to Almeria, Spain, tomorrow night. The 140 kilometers from Guercif was challenging, not only for the distance, but also because of the freezing cold. It was also an interesting walk; I find barren desert landscapes interesting; and it was interesting because of the police escort I have had from the village of Saka to Nador.
The police claim their escort is for my own security, and they have been courteous, generous, and kind, for the most part, but I have also felt that I've been under an ambulatory 'house arrest' at times. Having one police car pacing me at my heels and another 30 meters ahead while passing through one small city felt like something other than 'my security'. This was the especially the case when I stopped to answer the questions of three young men and was told by the policeman in the car behind me to keep moving. I also felt that being told "You must go," when I was in Saka had nothing to do with my security.
I suspect there are those who think 'peace' is a threat to national security, and I have indeed posted information about the 20th of February Movement, though my pilgrimage is not about that. I sincerely hope the King of Morocco implements meaningful progressive changes for his people so that the movement dies out and he has a long and happy reign. But this pilgrimage is about 'peace'; most of all my own. My destination, however, is the Middle East. When the police in Saka were questioning me I made a point of showing them my petitions for peace in Palestine and Israel; I have no such petiton regarding anything in Morocco. I usually mention that I am a Quaker, when there is no language barrier, and that I am a pacifist. But my feeling is that the authorities just want me out of Morocco. I am happy to oblige them; it is also my mind.
On the other hand, many of the policemen escorting me have clearly had no idea why they are doing it, and rather than suspecting the worst, many have cheerfully supposed it was simply to help a pilgrim along the way. Those officers have been a pleasure to be around. I should also mention that my backpack has never been searched, I have been allowed to continue walking, and I still have my 'peace pilgrimage' sign on my back.
In any case, whatever the motive for this police escort, it has kept me out of the cold and filled my belly at times. For this I am grateful, and I thank the police of Morocco for that. But I would prefer to have no more hospitality from you. No hindrances either, please.
I would also like to mention the extraordinary hospitality of the village of Afsou through its mayor, Mohamed Elamraoui. His hospitality, and that of Absalom, the caretaker of the town hall, was that hospitality that comes from Islam. Islam means, literally, 'surrender'; it is the deep humility and love for God and neighbor that transcends politics, nationalism, or even 'religion'. Thank you Mohamed and Absalom. If only every town hall would give the homeless lodging on a cold night; the deaths of so many in Europe during this current deep freeze would be avoided.
Meanwhile, here in Nador the police have changed tactics, keeping a low profile. One plain clothes officer had been following me; we met in the lobby of the hotel I had just checked in at. He said it was for my own security.
He was also a very pleasant fellow. I showed him my ferry ticket, and told him I 'd be changing hotels, to a cheaper one today, which I did. I told him I was fine and didn't need any more help. I thanked him and he excused himself and left. As far as I know, I've been on my own today.

Long Road: Going North from Guercif

2012-02-08T18:09:00.000Z

Afsou to Nador

2012-02-08T17:56:00.002Z

Suddenly, it's getting green again

And greener

Nador

Saka to Afsou

2012-02-08T17:42:00.002Z

Mohamed Elamraoui, the mayor of Afsou who put me up at the town hall and fed me like a king

A parting view of Saka, where the police put me up for the night

On the way, more of the same; bleak but beautiful

I was inside under warm covers when the deep freeze hit

My room Afsou's town hall

My friend Absalom, who took care of me in Afsou

Town Hall, Afsou

Towards Saka

2012-02-08T17:14:00.000Z

Wanted to see if I was still there. The photo confirmed it.

First Day Out from Guercif

2012-02-08T16:57:00.000Z

Guercif to Nador: Shepherds

2012-02-08T13:35:00.000Z

To Guercif

2012-02-02T19:34:00.000Z

Where I slept; on the road from Fes to Guercif

2012-02-02T18:55:00.001Z

My current hotel; 7 euros, shower down the hall

One of many olive groves

Caught some more rain that night

My room in Taza, 9 euros, but shower in room; toilet down the hall

People who helped me along the way

2012-02-02T18:44:00.000Z

In Guercif

Just outside of Fes

Mohammed Ashmit, school teacher

Mohammed and his son Idil, "For peace and humanity!"

The gent on the left filmed me just outside of Taza

I got a good stern lecture from this shepherd in Arabic. We parted friends.

Abdellah and his daughter, Hafsa. "We all have the same God."

This friend spoke a little Spanish, and had worked in Granada.

Encouragement just before entering Guercif/

To Taza

2012-02-02T18:24:00.003Z

The market in Taza

A friendly hanut owner

Street scene in Taza

Taza

Last Moments in Fes

2012-02-02T17:59:00.001Z

The view leaving Fes

Last night with Bintsi Habiba

Fes

More Fes

Half of my palacial suite at the Riad Dar Skalli, compliments of Karim, the owner, and a friend of Max

The other half

The bathroom, which is big enough to live in

Karim, Generous Hero, my benefactor at the Riad dar Skalli, Batha, Fes Medina

Guercif

2012-02-02T17:32:00.002Z

The land changes dramatically, going east from Taza. It becomes barren, infertile, almost a desert. As I was hiking towards Guercif these past three days, a bleak plain with the distant, snow covered Atlas mountains lay to my right, and the Plaine du Jel, equally barren, and the Rif Mountains lay to my left. There is almost no agriculture here, save a few sparse olive groves.
The people, however, have been for the most part warm and friendly. Several people pull off the road every day to offer a ride, to help me with money, or simply to offer encouragement. They all understand what the pilgrimage is about, and they all believe God's peace is universal.
I'm in another inexpensive hotel in Guercif, resting up for the week long trek to Nador and Melilla. It's a dry, dusty, and very hospitable town. I was cordially welcomed by several of its citzens.
Many thanks to everyone for their hospitality!

Taza

2012-01-30T17:14:00.000Z

I camped in another olive grove last night, just 30 meters from the train tracks. The engineer must be getting used to seeing my tent. When I packed up at 7:30 in the morning, a farmer was ploughing in the grove with his donkey, and the family was helping him. We wished each other peace as I hiked out of the grove.
After I'd got down the road a bit, a man named Mohammed and his son, Idil, pulled over to help me out with a contribution and to wish me well, 'for peace and humanity'. Idil caught up with me again a few hours later in Taza, contributing even more. Thank you, friends.
Just before I reached Taza, a journalist pulled over to 'interview' me. He spoke French, and I answered anyway I could, in no language in particular. I don't know if I'll be on the local news (www.ajialpress.com) but it's nice to know a journalist was interested in the pilgrimage.
I'm now in Taza, splurging on a 9 euro hotel room with a shower and hot water, and I've just eaten a nice tajine. I couldn't be happier.

Update from Oued Amlil

2012-01-29T12:16:00.000Z

Three days out of Fes and I'm passing through Oued Amlil. I hope to be in Taza by tomorrow.
Early Wednesday morning Olivia and I caught the train to Tangier, where I saw her off at the ferry port. She is now in Seville visiting friends. I caught the next train back to Fes, then spent the night in a palacial suite in a Riad, compliments of the owner, Karim. More on generous Karim and his Riad later. With 'a little help from my friends' I set out from Fes on Thursday, and for the past three days I've been walking about 25 to 30 kilometers a day and 'wilderness' camping at night . Quite a few people have stopped their cars to talk with me about the pilgrimage along the way, which is encouiraging. Time to get going again. Inshallah!

Convalescent Leave with Max

2012-01-23T11:03:00.000Z

Olivia and I arrived in Fes on adrenalin and faith, then quickly succumbed to illness and exhaustion. I was also emaciated, trembly and lame; a wreck. I felt that Fes may be the end of the line. But after ten days of convalescent leave with Max and his medicines, his cooking, and casual 'esteja a vontade' hospitality, Olivia and I are ready to go our separate ways, nourished and rested, if a little saddened. Obrigado, Max.

Fes

2012-01-22T18:44:00.001Z

Olivia

A nervous donkey in the tannery

The tannery

Rockin the Casbah

The Casbah

The call of the mu'edin at the Casbah

Entering the Medina

The Medina

For Bntsi Habiba (My Dear Daughter)

2012-01-19T21:02:00.000Z

My daughter Olivia will be returning to Portugal in a few days, so I'd like to express my gratitude to her now, before she leaves. Throughout the 1000 kilometer journey that we walked together, from Portalegre to Fes, it was Olivia who always kept things together. When I was ranting and raving at the universe for the heavy rain, or the scary drivers, or the cold, or the lack of food or the lack of shelter; whenever I was fed up and carrying on in an angry monologue because of all the discomforts and inconveniences of perpetual, homeless wandering; when I was even on the verge of tears in frustration on one occasion, Olivia was steady, stoical, calm, and reassuring. She was responsible for finding our hosts on Couchsurfing, and she was adamant that we not spend beyond our budget. Olivia kept me in check when I was irrational, and cheered me up when I sulked.

So again, my gratitude to you, kid. You are tough as nails, and sweet at the same time. I am proud of you, and I love you Olivia. God bless you.

Just What is Morocco's February 20th Movement?

2012-01-19T09:56:00.000Z

http://english.al-akhbar.com/content/february-20th-movement-retrospect-treacherous-path-reform

From Meknes to Fes

2012-01-17T20:25:00.000Z

Near our campsite

Our last campsite before reaching Fes

Olivia, determined

Adding tomatoes to our diet

Said, the restaurant manager at the Oil Libya station who treated us to lunch

Having tea while waiting for Max in Fes

Meknes

2012-01-17T19:48:00.002Z

King's palace over the wall to the left, a crowded neighborhood over the wall to the right

Meknes Casbah

On the way to Meknes

2012-01-17T00:55:00.002Z

Some friends who signed our petitions by the road

The view from the living room

The hanut owner on the left gave us tea, the gentleman on the right is a hadja, a pilgrim who made it to Mecca

The Roman ruins of Volubilis

Moulay-Idriss

Oulad Bouteib

2012-01-16T21:03:00.000Z

Ibrahim and I discussing his future

The esplanada

Ibrahim, his family, and Olivia

I was very hungry

Ibrahim styles my hair in his barbershop next to the café

The café

In the hanoot

Ibrahim and Olivia

To Ouezzane

2012-01-16T20:12:00.000Z

Andy, a cyclist from New Zealand

At the souk

The river purple-black with olive oil runoff

An olive oil press

The olive harvest

Blue Street Hills (Chefchaouen)

2012-01-16T19:14:00.000Z

Market day

From Tetouan to Chefchaouen

2012-01-16T15:42:00.001Z

Tetouan

2012-01-16T14:55:00.000Z

Kamel, our host in Tetouan

Waiting for the internet café to open

Meknes to Fes

2012-01-13T18:44:00.000Z

We did the 55 kilometers to Fes in two days, spending the night once again in an olive grove. The next day, while having our bread and cheese on the curb of an Oil Libya service station, a man brought me a sandwich, then the manager of the restaurant there invited us to lunch. Afterwards, as so many others in this generous nation have done, he invited us to stay with his family in Fes once we have moved on from our current host, Max.
Max, meanwhile, is an old friend that I knew in Portalegre, though he is from the Azores. Like so many from the Azores, he is a bit of an adventurer, and his work as a golf course manager has taken him to several different countries.
When we arrived he promptly took us out for a meal in Nouvelle Fes, then to meet some of his friends. Since that time I have been in bed with a cold, but we hope to stay in Fes for a week or so which should give me the chance to see the world famous medina.

On the way to Tetouan

2012-01-13T15:41:00.000Z

hanging the laundry

Our roadside tea host

high winds

Hamas considers shift to non-violent resistance, relocation to Egypt

2012-01-12T18:01:00.000Z

Hamas considers shift to non-violent resistance, relocation to Egypt

On the way to Tetouan

2012-01-12T17:50:00.000Z

shepherd boy

at the hanoot

Olivia stricken with illness; 30 minutes later back on the road

Three Acts of Roadside Hospitality

2012-01-09T13:47:00.000Z

We have arrived in Meknes after our long journey from Chefchaouen. While we spent most of our nights camping by the roadside, we did have a relatively luxurious break at a roadside hotel south of Ouezzane, and the next day, at the village of Oulad Bouteib, a young man named Ibrahim spoke to us in Spanish, inviting us to spend the night at his family's home. Ibrahim and I talked quite a lot about peace in the Middle East and he was happy to sign the petitions I carry with me. He also gave me a haircut, as he is a trained barber with work experience in Ceuta. We spent an enjoyable evening with him and his family. The next day we were invited to have tea from a van alongside the road, not by Moroccans but by three westerners from France, the U.S., and Sweden. They were heading south to the desert but also had time to talk to us about the Middle East and to sign the petitions. Such acts of kindness keep us going!
Yesterday, after spending the night in an olive grove, we passed the ancient Roman city of Volubilis, then Moulay Idriss before arriving in Meknes to stay with Hassan and his family. Hassan is the man who saw us on the road several days ago and invited us to stay with him. He follows the progress of Morocco's 20th of February Movement, which I am having the privilege of learning all about.

Down to Meknès

2012-01-03T11:38:00.000Z

Chefchaouen was a good rest, and we met many interesting people there, from Abdul the carpet dealer, to Andy the cyclist from New Zealand who has been quietly cycling through Europe for the past eight months and is now heading into the south of Morocco. Many of the travelers in Chefchaouen have stories that make our walk uninteresting by comparison.
After three day's walking and camping by the road we've arrived in Ouazzane, where we are passing through on the way to Meknès. We have changed our route to Fes to include Meknès because we were invited by two very friendly motorists to stay with them there after they had noticed the 'peace pilgrim' sign I wear on my back.
L'Hamdullah!
The country we have passed through is olive country, and the river is literally purple-black from the olive press runoff. There is plowing going on everywhere, including steep slopes, most of it done with a donkey. Many of the olive presses are also 'donkey-powered'.
Ouazzane is very different from the other cities we've visited; there is no tourist-friendly facade here. We hope to arrive in Meknès in a week, and we hope to find a means to a bath before then so that we are somewhat welcome!

Into the Rif, a Break, a Challenge

2011-12-29T12:21:00.000Z

Three day's walking brought us to the scenic mountain town of Chefchaouen. On the way we camped by the roadside twice; the first night in a pine forest, the second by a dry river bed. As we ascended into the Rif Mountains, pine forests gave way to scattered olive groves. Men were plowing everywhere with mules and wooden plows while the women tended flocks of sheep or cattle.
At one point a man stopped his car to ask if we needed a ride. This has been a common occurrence since we began walking in Morocco. As always we declined the invitation, telling him we were peace pilgrims. He immediately responded by asking if we needed anything; before I could answer he asked if we needed money; again, before I could answer he handed us enough money to get us down the road for another week or two. I am again deeply humbled by the generosity of these people. There is a lot for the Western world to learn from Islam.
Without anybody to host us in Chefchaouen, we decided to take a break for a few days at a campsite above the town. Two day's rest, a good meal or two, and a couple of hot showers will get us ready for the long trek down to Fes.
At our campsite I was challenged by a Frenchman concerning the pilgrimage. He wanted to know not so much what it is about or why, but, as he put it, "Who are you to be telling people in the Middle East about peace?"
I had a difficult time explaining anything to him; there was a language barrier; but my response is as follows: I am nobody; however, I am a Friend of Christ, and as a Friend of Christ I am also a Friend of Humanity, and as a Friend of Humanity I will talk to anyone on Earth about peace if they are willing to listen.

Overnight in Tetouan

2011-12-28T13:44:00.000Z

We arrived in Tetouan on the 10th day of a sanitary worker's strike, and our original host fell through, but a phone call to Couchsurfing host Kamil saved us from a difficult situation by putting a roof over our heads and good food into our bellies. We hadn't counted on Kamil because he was supposed to be out of town on the 25th; in fact he was just on his way back from Tanger on a bus when we reached him. Despite this last minute request, and despite a mix up that had us waiting for him in one place and him waiting for us in another, Kamil was happy to give us refuge. In our brief time together we talked about the prospect of peace in the Middle East; we disagreed on a few points, but agreed on others. We were all up early the next morning for work, Kamil's as an air traffic controller and ours as peace walkers, but before we departed Kamil stocked us with a few day's supplies and some cash for our journey to Chefchaouen and beyond. Thank you, friend.

On the Way to Tetouan

2011-12-25T16:11:00.000Z

The highway we've walked the past three days from Tangier to Tetouan is a busy one, but it's far more pedestrian- compatible than any highway in Spain, as everybody here seems to walk at one time or another. Taxis, vans, and trucks are ready to stop at any time to pick someone up. However, Olivia and I did the kilometers on foot, camping the first night in a field after asking the owner's permission. Some local boys helped us pitch our tent, and although very poor, the owner of the field showed up with flat bread and potato stew for us to eat.
Yesterday's walk took us up into the beginning of the Rif Mountains, which are nothing one would expect to see. The womens' straw hats and colorful clothing, and the dark green mountains seem more like something one would see in Guatemala than Morocco. We camped Christmas Eve in a relatively secluded spot in the mountains, then continued our walk this morning, descending towards Tetouan. Before arriving here we were invited to tea by an old fellow named Ahmed and his friend Abdullah. Ahmed gave us some words of wisdom before we departed to finish the day's trek.
We've just arrived in Tetouan; once again we have a Couchsurfing host waiting for us, l'hamdullah!

Learning the Meaning of Hospitality in Tangier

2011-12-22T18:43:00.000Z

My daughter and I have spent the past week in Tangier in the home of an incredibly generous family. This family of devoted Muslims took us in at the urging of their son, Mohammed, whom we never met in person. Before reaching Seville, we had asked Mohammed (who attends university there) for a place to stay through couchsurfing. He hadn't been able to host us in Seville, but said his family would take us in in Tangier. We nevertheless looked for other hosts in Tangier, as the couchsurfing rule in Spain had been that if you asked for ten places to stay, you might get one. As it turned out, not only did Mohammed's family take us in and insist that we stay, but nearly everyone we asked in Tangier accepted us as guests. We ultimately had to turn them all down but one, who we agreed to meet for tea.
The meeting for tea turned out to be an all expenses paid trip to the Grottoes of Hercules, an impressive seaside cavern near Tangier, and later in the evening tea at one of Tangier's more prestigious cafés. Zakaria, as our day host is called, would have also treated us to lunch at the Grottoes of Hercules if we hadn't already been committed to lunch at our host family's home. Zakaria is already arranging for us to stay with his parents in Fes, and having learned our lesson we won't ask for any other hosts.
Both Zakaria and Said, who is the head of the family hosting us, are devoted Muslims, though you wouldn't know it by their appearances. Neither of them wear djalabas, and young Zakaria could pass for a student at any American university. And as devoted Muslims, both insist on true Islam as a religion of peace. Both of them support and understand this pilgrimage, not only as a pilgrimage for peace but as a calling; both of them unhesitatingly support a peaceful resolution for Palestine and Israel; and both believe in peace and understanding between all cultures and faiths.
How is it that so many so-called Christians in my country clamor for war against Islam when these very devoted Muslims (neither Zakaria nor Said are 'lukewarm' about their faith) desire only peace?
Tomorrow Olivia and I will continue our walk for peace, going south towards Tetouan and Chefchaouen, but only with great hesitation. We will miss our hospitable and loving hosts, true Muslims who are examples for all who claim to love God.
Said, Badia, Houda, Ayoub: shukran and bslama; we hope to see you again.
Zakaria and Majda, the same.
Peace to you.

Tarifa to Morocco

2011-12-20T13:46:00.001Z

Jorge, our host in Tarifa

Tagine

Olivia by the Grottoes of Hercules

The Grottoes of Hercules, near Tangier

Zakaria, who brought us to the cave

The camel that tried to bite Zakaria

Zakaria treating us to tea in Tangier

Zakaria's sister, who gave Olivia a traditional dress.

Leaving Europe for Africa

Tangier

The family that adopted us in Tangier. Said in the background, his son Ayoub, and his daughter, Houda.

Getting cross-cultural

The medina

The Grand Mosque

The Tangier Medina

Ayoub and I

Down the Coast

2011-12-20T11:19:00.002Z

In El Puerto de Santa Maria our friend and host, Manuel, gave us detailed information on how to get to Tarifa via trekking routes rather than highways once we'd gotten past Chiclana de la Frontera. After a quick visit to Cadiz and an overnight stop in El Puerto (where Cadiz University Sea Sciences major Emilio took us in) we took backroads towards Chiclana, camping for the night a few kilometers short of that town.
The next day, while heading towards Conil de la Frontera, we met Pete, an Englishman with a big backpack on a small motorbike who sputters down the shoulder of the highway to get where he is going. He warned us about the rain in Spain, and talked to us about his conversion from skinhead hooliganism to Hinduism. He signed our petitions for peace in the Middle East and blessed us before we continued our walk. Some thirty minutes later, Pete sputtered by, stopped his motorbike and handed us twenty euros for our journey. We graciously accepted. Thank you, Pete.
Arriving at Conil we slept on the beach, then took advantage the following days of Manuel's maps he'd made for us. The going was sometimes slow and difficult in soft sand, but it was well worth it as we rounded Cape Trafalgar and climbed over the cliffs between Los Canos de Meca and Barbate. It was on these heights that we had our first spectacular view of Morocco. We camped the night just short of Barbate.
The next day, in desperate need of a shower, we paid the price to use a gym in Barbate, but only for the shower, then we continued our journey past Zahara, which is a ghost town in winter but for a few diehard surfers. We passed Atlanterra to find ourselves in an eerily deserted, but extremely wealthy neighborhood on cliffs overlooking the sea. We felt that we were trespassing as our pilgrim backpacking was wholly incongruous with our surroundings.
Rounding the point near Atlanterra we made our way down to Playa Bolonia, and as it was getting dark we had to camp on the beach, surrounded by 'no camping' signs. The next day we hiked the final 22 kilometers to Tarifa, the southernmost point of Europe and undoubtedly the warmest at this time of year. We hiked the last 5 or 6 kilometers on the beach, watching the kite surfers, then found our first host in several days, Jorge, who kept us well cared for for the next two days before our crossing to Morocco and Africa.

From Conil de la frontera to Tarifa

2011-12-19T14:08:00.000Z

Celebrating our arrival in Tarifa

Conil de la Frontera, from where we slept

Morocco in the distance

Taking a break during the steep ascent near Barbate

Cape Trafalgar (I think)

Where we camped

De Sanlucar de Barrameda a Conil de la frontera

2011-12-19T13:10:00.000Z

Where we slept near Conil

Our hosts in Sanlucar, Danielys from Venezuela, and Jesús

Flamingos near Puerta de la Santa Maria

Our host in Puerto de la Santa Maria, and fellow trekker, Manuel

On the ferry to Cadiz

Cadiz

Our camp near Chiclana

From Zafra to El Puerto de Santa Maria

2011-12-09T15:58:00.001Z

Two of our four hosts in Zafra; Amanda from Scotland, Jess from the USA, and a friend

We saw a lot of these between Zafra and Seville

The Via de la Plata after the rain

Fording one of the streams across the Via de la Plata

This photo defines this entire pilgrimage

Goin south on the Via de la Plata

Countryside castle

Waiting at the door of an albergue

Seville

Angel, our Bulgarian host in Seville

The Guadalquivir

Always the rain

Our hosts in Utrera: Chris, from New Mexico, who had a long night, and Eszter, from Hungary, who didn't.

Naval Base Rota, Then and Now

2011-12-09T14:43:00.001Z

Some thirty two years ago I was in Rota, Spain, while serving aboard USS Tattnall. We were stopping for fuel having crossed the Atlantic, and we were heading into the Mediterranean, then onward to the Persian Gulf. We were all sure we were going into action against Iran ever since the taking of hostages at the American Embassy. I remember being eager for action.
Yesterday, while walking from Sanlucar to El Puerto de Santa Maria, I saw the ships in Rota, and I thought about the gracious Iranian hosts we'd had in Badajoz. I thought about this pilgrimage for peace, and I decided I would like to do something at Naval Base Rota in the name of peace.
This morning our current host, Manuel, led me to one of the base's gates, very near his home, and I put out my 'pilgrimage for peace' sign and my petitions. The Spanish guards at the gate had me move a little further away, but otherwise paid little attention to my presence. Before long a Spanish woman approached me, not because of my petitions, but to sell me a lottery ticket (I think). Instead, she left a few minutes later having signed the petitions; one addressed to the Yesha Council to urge them to stop building settlements in Palestine and to recognize the Palestinians as a people; the other petition addressed to Hamas to urge them to recognize the state of Israel and to stop resorting to violence.
After a long period of inactivity, a car with three women parked near the gate. One of them was clearly an American. I asked if she would like to sign a petition for peace.
"No," she said. "We're part of the military establishment."
"It's not a protest against the base, or the military," I said. "It's just a petition appealing to peace in the Middle East."
"No", she said. "We can't sign anything."
I spent another hour or so at the gate, where there was very little movement in and out of the base. The few who drove past met me either with mild curiosity or indifference. I then went back to the house we're staying in.
I obviously accomplished little or nothing for world peace, but I suppose I felt better for having spoken for peace in a place where I was once eager for war.

March to the Sea

2011-12-08T00:15:00.001Z

We rested for four or five days with our hosts in San Juan de Aznalfarache, taking in some sightseeing and petitioning for peace in Seville. We then made our way down to Dos Hermanas where we spent our first night on a public bench. The next day we walked to Utrera where we had an enjoyable two days staying with our American and Hungarian hosts. I expressed my concern to Chris, the American, about running out of money soon; he thought running out of money would bring the pilgrimage to a new and interesting level.
After leaving Utrera we arrived in Las Cabezas de San Juan, once again prepared to sleep on benches in the plaza, but it wasn't long before a rough looking man named Francisco invited us to sleep in his house. Overcoming my fear I accepted, and we had a comfortable night of sleep in from the cold. Fransisco had a house, but no food, so we shared what we had with him. He'd had a hard life, and he said he always tried to take in anyone who was homeless because he'd once been homeless himself. Olivia and I both thought it interesting that the churchgoers lingering around a church not 30 meters from us had either ignored or not noticed us, while one of society's outcasts had taken us in.
Leaving Las Cabezas we hiked another 20 some kilometers, camping in the open near the highway. The next day we reached our present location, Sanlucar, at the mouth of the Guadalquivir River. As always, our hosts are more than generous, and they invited us to stay an extra day.
Tomorrow we hope to head down to El Puerto de Santa Maria.

Southbound 'Via de la Plata' Heretics Arrive in Seville

2011-11-28T12:36:00.001Z

We headed south from Zafra on the Via de la Plata in a thick fog, but we strayed from the path several times over the next week for another reason; the Way to Santiago is only marked for the pilgrims going north. We learned to walk backwards at every fork or intersection, looking for the yellow arrows (hand painted by a conscientious pilgrim, no doubt, for the Way would be poorly marked even for northbound pilgrims otherwise.) But we still managed to add an extra 10 or 15 kilometers to our trek to Seville by way of going astray.
The Via de la Plata was an adventure even without getting lost though; we forded thigh high streams barefoot, and camped near countryside castle ruins. We took a fair amount of rain, and ate bread and cheese for dinner. For our thanksgiving dinner, we had cold vegetables and legumes from a jar. We also had our moments of luxury, though, staying in an albergue now and then, eating microwaved lasagna and pizza.
We were corrected several times for going south; by pedestrians, motorists, cyclists, and even a low flying ultralight. "You're supposed to be going the other way!" they all said. But, heretics that we were, we doggedly continued southward to San Juan de Aznalfarache, near Seville, where we have discovered, not the relics of an ancient saint, but the flesh and blood of living saints who have taken in two weary strangers.

Meditations Under the Weather

2011-11-19T15:18:00.001Z

My stay in Zafra has been extended for a few days due to the rainy weather and our hosts' gracious offer to sit it out in their home. And, as it turns out, My daughter Olivia will be walking with me to Seville and beyond.

With all this time on my hands I've been able to meditate on our walk thus far a little more deeply. While the distance we've covered, the speaking I've done regarding peace, and the 'success' we've enjoyed in being hosted these past two weeks is somewhat gratifying to one as task oriented as myself, I have also been aware that I spend a great deal of time worrying about funding and lodging.
I look at two of my mentors, Peace Pilgrim and Wijnand Boon, and I find myself having neither the Faith of the one nor the public skills of the other. Walk until given a place to stay, and fast until given food as Peace Pilgrim did? Accept no money, ask for nothing? I would surely die of exposure or starvation! On the other hand, what do I have to do to get offers, even multiple offers daily for food and lodging as Wijnand Boon does because of his multimedia skills? I have no such skills. The stats on my blog aren't very promising. I'm not so sure anyone will read this, in fact.
In both Peace Pilgrim's and Wijnand's ways, I sense a lack of worrying about tomorrow. And while Peace Pilgrim's way was very different from Wijnand's-- hers being old school Faith in God, his being a modern faith in high tech multimedia-- they both based their journeys on a common faith in humanity.

Meanwhile, I sometimes feel confident I'll find the means to get to Egypt, but I often wring my hands wondering how I'll get the support to make it without the Faith of a Saint or the skills of a journalist. I often doubt my 'leading from God' and start to think I am simply delusional. Peace pilgrimage to Egypt... Ha! Let me just quietly and humbly withdraw from this over-ambitious enterprise.
But then I remember how I have felt compelled to do this for so many years; compelled against my better judgement. Reading about Peace Pilgrim fueled this Compulsion, but lacking her great Faith I always pushed the concept of walking to the Middle East back into the Impossible Dream file. Peace Pilgrim was a great spiritual leader more than anything, and that kind of greatness was not in me. Furthermore, I had a life to deal with, bills and rent to pay, a family to support. And I enjoy sitting by the fire while watching a good film on DVD. I love my wife. I love our little rented house, our dogs, our cat, our pond, garden, chickens. Why would I risk everything for a long walk? But every time I took a short walk there was the compulsion to go long again.
There were a few occasions when I made a tentative decision to go: after I'd had an argument with Linda, my wife, or when feeling hopelessly directionless, or when a strong sense of social obligation made me sure I had to roam the Earth finding inner peace and preaching world peace. But these were mere excuses. The real reason I felt compelled to make a pilgrimage was simply because I was supposed to do so. There was no rational reason. It has been a call to a vocation. A genuine call to follow the Leading of God.

Wijnand appeared some two months ago as an angel of some kind, I reckon. He made the pilgrimage idea seem easy, even comfortable. While highly intelligent and multi-talented, he was an otherwise ordinary guy whom you could talk to about ordinary things. We talked about his sore feet, camping, the Blues, iPhones, Monty Python. While a determined and courageous peace pilgrim himself, there was no unattainable, lofty, Peace Pilgrim in him. I was greatly encouraged.
When Linda gave me her blessing, and Olivia praised the idea, it took me another two or three days to make the decision. I immediately asked my step-mother for financial support. I started a blog, announced my intentions. Within a week after walking with Wijnand, there was no going back. After another week, I was fretting. Nobody seemed to take my intentions seriously, or they seemed only remotely interested. It was soon very clear to me that my pilgrimage would not be Wijnand's. My tent would be much better used than his; my meals less sumptuous. Comfort would not be a factor as much as anxiety. Doubt set in, but it was too late.

But Wijnand was an angel because he was the one who pulled me into the void. The very void God has been calling me into for so long. The void I have been turning my back on. Wijnand was the very human example I needed to take the first step.

I still haven't reconciled myself to the fact that this pilgrimage will not follow some comforting pattern. Neither Peace Pilgrim's nor Wijnand's journey will be mine (or my daughter's). And I have as yet no idea how it will progress, nor what patterns will develop. As it stands now, most of our food and lodging has come about through Couchsurfing; our hosts have been nothing but exceedingly kind and generous. Where there is no Couchsurfing, however, we camp near the road, carrying bread, cheese and chourico to nourish ourselves. We have been given food twice, without asking, a la Peace Pilgrim. And we've been given lodging twice outside of Couchsurfing. But, while I am doing a Peace Pilgrimage, I am no Peace Pilgrim. Neither am I Wijnand Boon. So it is clearly my more difficult task to find my own way; to have a faith of my own, in both God and in humanity. Do not worry, seek the Kingdom of God. I know this, but from the outside in, not from the inside out. Knowing this from the inside out is going to be the greatest challenge. Walking, meanwhile, is a piece of cake.

Zafra: Via de la Plata

2011-11-17T18:12:00.001Z

From Almendralejo we journeyed down the Via de la Plata, accompanied by an energetic man named Luis for the first 5 kilometers. We then altered course for Fuente del Maestre when we received a message from Camille, our previous host, that a friend of hers would host us there. The detour added some 15 kilometers to our walk (for a total of 30-35 kilometers) and we had to hustle to get to Fuente before dark. The extra effort was well worth it, however, as our Belgian host, Joachim (or 'Joe') cooked a gourmet meal for us and entertained us with tales of marathons and cycling trips. Both he and his visiting brother were thoughtful and generous and we set off the next day rested and refreshed.
The walk from Fuente to Zafra was short, scenic, and unhurried compared to the previous day's walks. When we arrived in Zafra we found the house we are currently staying in, where we are guests to four more teachers. They've been busy with classes but perfect hosts in spite of this.
Tomorrow I hope to continue down the Via de la Plata towards Seville. The journey will take about 6 days, and I'll be staying in a tent unless I find an inexpensive Albergue along the way. Olivia, meanwhile, will take a week's holiday, going by bus to Madrid, then meeting me again in Seville, where we hope to continue southward.

From Badajoz to Zafra

2011-11-17T15:52:00.001Z

Our host in Badajoz: Hassan and Sadegh, both engineering students from Iran.

Our hosts in Montijo, Sylvia and Camille from the USA.

The Guadiana

José, who walked over 5 kilometers with us just to show us the way.

An experiment which failed.

Almendralejo

2011-11-14T14:49:00.001Z

From Badajoz we worked our way east, camping one night, then spending the next night in Montijo with two very kind English teachers from America, Camille and Sylvia. We camped again a kilometer beyond Arroyo del San Serván, and got very wet this morning stomping our way to Almendralejo. A very kind woman has invited us into her house to use the internet, and we're hoping afterwards to find a place to stay dry tonight. Tomorrow we set off for Zafra, where we should arrive in a day or two.

The Beginning

2011-11-10T17:59:00.000Z

Just a few minutes from home, with our friend Olga.

The starting gate, 4 November, 2011. My wife, Linda, and our dog Migas seeing us off.

The first steps

Our first campsite near Valencia de Alcantara

Extremadura highway

Alburquerque

Still smiling after three days.

Badajoz

2011-11-10T17:05:00.000Z

We camped one night after leaving Alburquerque, then reached Badajoz where we've been the guests of, first, Angelina (a friend of our first night's host, Ana) and then two Iranian post-graduate engineering students. We've eaten Iranian food, listened to Iranian music, learned a bit of Persian and told each other dozens of stories. We're now working out our route south to Seville.

The First Three Days

2011-11-06T20:32:00.001Z

We left Castelo de Vide on Friday, walking some 20 kilometers to Las Huertas, Spain, where we stayed with some friends. After dumping a few kilos from our backpacks the next day we walked another 8 kilometers, then camped for the night with our friend Gianni, who joined us in Valencia de Alcantara. Olivia and I walked another 30 kilometers today (Gianni walked, then hitchhiked ahead of us) and we're now staying in Alburquerque as Couchsurfing guests. We are tired, sore, and very grateful to our hosts for giving us the comforts of home for a day or two.

Goin' South

2011-11-02T18:03:00.001Z

My daughter and I will be heading to Valencia de Alcantara, Spain, soon, then heading south towards Badajoz, Sevilla, Tarifa, and hopefully into Morocco.
Yesterday we left Portalegre behind, taking the little travelled road through the mountains to Castelo de Vide-- but instead of a view we got fog and rain. Nevertheless, our twenty kilometer walk, which included our friends-- Nelson Switha for the start, and Kim Willis nearly to the end-- was uplifting. While we carried no packs-- our destination was our home near Castelo de Vide-- we did manage to get a few signatures on our two petitions.
We're holed up in Castelo de Vide today because of the weather, and we'll be setting off again either tomorrow or the next day.
If anyone along our route would like to host us for a night, please contact me on this blog. My daughter and I are both more than willing to do a bit of work in exchange for your hospitality.

Setting off

2011-10-25T11:43:00.000+01:00

We are starting this walk for peace at eleven in the morning, Tuesday, the first of November, from Jardim do Tarro in Portalegre, Portugal. I am going to carry two petitions with me:

To Khaled Mashaal

Chief of the Political Bureau of Hamas

Damascus, Syria

Dear Friend,

We, the undersigned, are writing to you in the hope that you will use your power and influence to help establish peace in the Middle East and the world.

Until now, Hamas has pursued a bloody policy of violence against Israel and against Jews in general. Much of this violence has been rendered indiscriminately, resulting in the deaths of children. Furthermore, rather than hoping for future peace with the people of Israel, Hamas hopes for its eventual destruction. This policy, rather than helping to establish a Palestinian state, has hindered it, and perpetuates division, suffering and strife, not only for Israelis and Palestinians, but for the world.

While we are aware of the injustice the Palestinian people have suffered at the hands of those promoting expansionist policies, we believe that neither violent retaliation nor threats to Israel’s long-term security are viable remedies. Violence begets violence, and fear begets violence. Therefore, we ask you to renounce violence and the cultivation of fear, and instead to lead the Palestinians in non-violent resistance against injustice, which will draw the world to your cause and convert your enemies. Indeed, the Qur’an says to ‘Repel evil with what is better, then will he, between whom and thee was hatred, become as it were thy friend and intimate. And no one will be granted such goodness except those who exercise patience and self-restraint.’

We ask, then, that Hamas exercise such patience and self-restraint, setting an example to Israel and to the world of that which is better, and leading the way to peace.

Peace to you.

And also

To Dani Dayan

Chairman of the Yesha Council

Palestinian Territories

Dear Friend,

We, the undersigned, are writing to you in the hope that you will help promote peace in the Middle East, and in the world. By peace we mean not a forced absence of war based on might, which conquerors may impose upon the conquered, but rather the presence of harmony resulting from mutual respect, understanding, and a sense of equality between different cultures, races, and faiths.

By this definition, the policy of settlement expansion cannot lead to peace. There is no peace in forcing people off of their land, and there is no peace in the walls, soldiers, barbed wire and checkpoints that provide security for the settlements. In fact, rather than creating long-term peace for the people of Israel, the expansion of Israeli settlements in Palestinian territory perpetuates the suffering that leads to hostility, and threatens any prospects for peace in the Middle East.

Furthermore, you have argued that the Palestinian Territories belong to Israel by virtue of military gains from the war in 1967. There is clearly no peace in such an argument. To claim land based on a war half a century ago is to perpetuate that war.

In summary, your policy of settlement expansion respects neither the individuals whose lands you acquire, nor the Palestinian people as a whole. We therefore ask you, in the name of peace, to stop the building of settlements in the Palestinian Territories, to recognize the autonomy of the Palestinian people and to respect the rights of the people who live there.

Peace to you.

Why?

2011-10-05T16:51:00.001+01:00

First and foremost, I am following a long-standing personal leading from the Prince of Peace. I see this as a vocation.
Secondly, as a Quaker, I hope to visit diverse meetings of the Religious Society of Friends along the way, linking them in a way other than by the common name, 'Quaker'.
Finally, as a member of the human race, I hope to make this walk an international 'peace pilgrimage', connecting communities from Spain, through Western Europe, the Balkans, and Turkey to the Middle East. I hope to work for peace in Palestine, and to arrive in Cairo as a part of the Masterpeace community. While I am prepared to do this singly, I invite you to join me for an hour, a week, or the entire journey; and whether you join me or not, I ask for your help along the way.

Following in the Footsteps of Wijnand Boon

2011-09-23T14:13:00.000+01:00

Last Sunday I had the opportunity to meet Wijnand Boon, http://www.twalkwithme.eu/ who has already walked from Holland to Spain, and on the following Tuesday I had the opportunity to walk with him for two hours as he made his way towards Badajoz. Though I have been led to make such a walk for several years, Wijnand has been the catalyst to put my leadings into action. Look him up on his website, Facebook, or Twitter.