RIDE FOR HAITI

Pope speaks to Haitians and offers support...

2010-01-26T21:51:00.001-05:00

VATICAN CITY, 23 JAN 2010 (VIS) - Made public today were two telegrams sent by the Holy Father on 16 January to Rene Preval, president of the Republic of Haiti, and to Archbishop Louis Kebreau S.D.B. of Cap-Haitien and president of the Episcopal Conference of Haiti, for the earthquake which devastated the country on 12 January, killing and injuring hundreds of thousands of people.

Benedict XVI tells President Preval of his "profound sadness" at the tragic event and assures him of his "fervent prayers for all the people affected by this dreadful catastrophe. I also pray", the Pope continues, "that a spirit of solidarity may enter people's hearts and that calm may reign in the streets, so that the generous aid arriving from all countries may bring comfort to everyone, and that people who have today lost everything may be consoled by knowing that the international community is truly concerned about them".

The Holy Father expresses his appreciation for "the commitment shown by both Haitians and foreigners, sometimes at risk of their own lives, to do everything in their power to search for and rescue survivors". And he assures the president that the Catholic Church, "through her institutions, will remain - and not only in these moments of great commotion - alongside the people who have been so sorely tried by this tragedy, and will, to the limit of her powers, help them regain the chance to build a better future".

In his telegram to Archbishop Kebreau, the Pope mentions the tragic death in the earthquake of Archbishop Joseph Serge Miot of Port-au-Prince, and of many faithful, priests and consecrated people. "At this sad hour", he writes, "I invoke Our Lady of Perpetual Help that she may become 'Mother of tenderness', and that solidarity may triumph over isolation and individualism in people's hearts".

The also Pope praises "the rapid mobilisation of the international community, collectively touched by the fate of Haitians", and reaffirms that, through her institutions, the Church "will not cease to make her contribution to the emergency efforts and to the patient reconstruction of devastated areas".

the earthquake was five days ago...

2010-01-18T02:03:00.001-05:00

I got on a plane a few years ago to find suffering and found instead, joy.
I expected to find darkness and found only light.
I arrived there to give help but received it instead.
I expected to find only poverty and found immeasurable wealth.
I went to affect change, and was affected.
I came home and struggled to explain what I know, and failed.
I wonder why it took so many lives lost to get our attention?
I think people are listening now, but for how long?
I want to scream and shout and cry and hold a small blood-stained hand.
I beg God for mercy, healing, and forgiveness for I am "blan."
Here my prayer and tell me what to do...
Please, ease their pain.

Ride for Haiti... THE MOVIE is here...

2007-09-15T00:07:00.000-04:00

http://pmrphoto.com/ak

Please take a look at a little flash movie I made of a selection of my photos from the trip last summer. I hope you enjoy looking at the slideshow. God Bless you! Deacon pat

Update: my trusty steed is gone...

2007-09-14T23:58:00.000-04:00

I sold the motorcycle that carried me so faithfully on my ride this summer; there is a sleek new R1150RT in its place in the garage. We will have our adventures as well, but probably not like the GS. I would have loved to have kept it forever, but I think my need of a two wheeled landcrusier is no longer a reality now that the Dalton Highway is behind me. the new "used_ RT is set up for the kind of riding I do weekly and beyond.

The strain I put on my family, being gone almost a month, was pretty great. I also had difficulty missing them, even as I had fun riding and praying. Missing out on 1/12th of my son patrick's third year on earth was significant in my life as well as his. Still, I have no regrets about my solitute in the wind last summer. While I don't see myself doing it again any time soon, I would do it all the same if I did it again.

My butt healed after about ten days of avoiding wooden chairs, in case you're wondering...

Man, it was a great trip, and I thank God and my family for praying me home safe again. Each time I ride, the road noise, wind, and sound of the engine bring me right back to the Dalton Highway and all that asphalt in between Tennessee and AK. I'll get out there again someday... Carpe Deum! Deacon Pat

Day 26: St. Louis to Knoxville, 487 miles Total Mileage: 11,253

2007-07-12T02:28:00.001-04:00

Sometimes I do my best thinking on the bottom of the pool in our back yard. That’s where I ended up at the end of today’s ride. I sat down there for a while, as long as my breath held out, and I thanked God for keeping me safe in my eleven thousand mile odyssey. Ultimately, I feel more than a little guilty, spending all that money on fuel, food, and lodging, riding to Alaska and back on a state of the art German motorcycle. Motorcycling is something that I love to do. I always have. The first motorcycle in my memory arrived loudly into our driveway in the early 70’s under an old family friend named Dave Lowe. He rode a Norton Commando across the country and stopped in Chicago to visit us after leaving his home in Cleveland. While I left with special rain gear, heated grips, fuel injection, and ABS brakes, Dave had no windshield, an uncomfortable crude plastic seat, and a bike that probably burned a quart of oil every 1000 miles. The raw sound of that big twin warming up in our driveway was the beginning of a love affair that lasts to this day. Even my father, at 70, who is against me riding for all the safety reasons, will still talk about the guy in Ashland he remembers with the big Indian from when he was a boy. The first person to introduce me face to face to the motorcycle is my old friend Joe Fontana. His family moved out of Chicago to the "country" in the early 80’s to Naperville, IL. They built a home out there and the area all around it consisted of empty fields filled with grass, weeds, and dirt trails. New subdivisions going in created new opportunities for riding in mud as heavy equipment created many possibilities for riding on the weekends when all the construction crews were off. That was a Suzuki RM80. It was a tall, black and yellow gangly thing made for serious motocross. It was a single cylinder “thumper” that could really churn the ground when you twisted the throttle. It sounded like a demon possessed chain saw when you hit the powerband. I dumped it on my first try at the handlebars. Joe helped me back on and then I got the hang of it. For the record, his little brother Dan is the guy that got me into the darkroom for the first time. Those Fontanas have had some serious input on my life. Then there was the green 200cc Kawasak Enduro that I found propped up against my Uncle Ed's cabin in Woodland Park, Colorado. I had come to visit him for a week and I rode that thing everywhere up there. I loved to spin the back tire on gravel but had to take my time learning how to go around corners at speed. I actually broke a clutch cable way up on a gravel mountain road about 10 miles from the cabin. I had to teach myself on the fly how to RPM shift and get back down the mountain. I would give a lot to have that bike back again. I've probably owned twenty or so bikes since then. About three years ago, I spied a green BMW at the Honda car dealership by my old office. It had no plates on it as someone had traded it in and the Honda folks didn't have a clue what it was. Once I rode that bike about 15 miles, I knew I was “done” with everything else, now that I'd discovered what the big deal is about B’mers. There are four things you want a bike to do: go fast, stop fast, corner well, and be able to ride them all day long. BMW’s sort of rule the roost when you combine all those attributes. My friend and brother Deacon Dan Hosford had something to do with this transition as well as he’s been riding them forever. Dan is fearless mechanically and we performed a major service that winter together in the garage; for the record, I mostly handed him tools. Dan and I rode together to Sweetwater for our monthly seminary classes together and often took the “long way” home. And now I’ve come a long way home, back to the green mountains of East Tennessee. I want to thank those of you that have been praying for me along the way. I have never prayed so much in my entire life. My self-directed (some say misdirected) retreat has been everything and more than what I had hoped for. I spent 26 days on the road with my Lord. I was a bit selfish about my companion and while I invited a few buddies to go along, it’s just as well that I went alone. The time I spent reflecting on the realities of Jesus giving his life for us was deeply profound as I watched four time zones go by and gazed upon the endless beauty of the last frontier: Alaska. Hans Urs von Balthasar says that “beauty is not accidental, but essential.” I understand a bit more what he means now. I spent as much time listening as I did praying. The sounds of the wind and the engine are still ringing in my ears, and while that will fade, the sound of silence I will not forget. The wilderness offers us a place where we can escape all distraction and re-align ourselves to the silent language of God. Although my Alaskan adventure has come to a close, my great adventure as Deacon is just beginning and my role as husband, son, brother, and father continues. I pray that I will always have the fervor and excitement in serving God in that capacity as I do starting the engine on whatever two-wheeled machine is in my garage. And when the time comes for me to stop riding, I pray that I'll have the wisdom to do so, and remember these 26 days out on the road in my memories. And what have I learned after all that time on the road spent in prayer? The only thing I can offer God is my simple and humble thanksgiving for this wonderful life. Each day, my prayers started in thanks for my loving and extremely patient wife Ellie, my daughter “the Sophster,” for my long awaited gift-from-God-son Patrick, and for the health of our families. A month ago, a reporter asked Dolly Parton, “what do you owe the success of your forty-one year long marriage to?” She responded, “stay gone.” Well, I guess I did my part this month… God Bless you all!

Day 25: Emporia, KS to just east of St. Louis, MO 438 mi.

2007-07-10T15:21:00.000-04:00

2:30pm Tuesday: I decided that since it was so hot today, I'd find a Panera and upload a bunch of days worth of stuff as I've not had internet lately. It's about 90 degress out right now and overcast. It rained a lot here in KS yesterday and caused some flooding but it's been dry for me so far today. I've been traveling along US 50, which is an old road. I started in Pueblo, Colorado and ran through many towns including Dodge City, KS, the home of Bat Masterson and a bunch of bad guys from the old west. US50 travels along the Arkansas river which has shocked me in that it's mostly bone dry in KS. US50 is dotted with small farming towns and old motels & gas stations now defunct because of the I-70 going in during the 50's. I'm in a suburb of Kansas city right now, hence the Panera which I haven't seen for weeks. I am moving straight East now. I don't know where I'll stay the night tonight but I'm fairly certain I won't be home till tomorrow. I've still got about 700 miles to go and I've already ridden around 160. It's always sad to leave the mountains of Colorado behind me as I have a lifetime of memories there, but it eases my pain somewhat that I know the Smokies are waiting for me with their lush green grass and trees and gentle rolling landscape. East Tennessee is so welcoming, especially when you come out of the visual boredom of the Midwest. I've gotten to travel to every state in the USA now, and have been in seven countries in Europe, to Japan, Iceland, the old Soviet Union, Mexico, and spent a ton of time in Haiti. I am always happy to return to the "old mountains" that have become our home of these last eighteen years. Every mile gets me closer the the pool in the back yard and yes, to the foot-tall grass that awaits me as well. More later...
11pm: I stopped in Columbia, MO to see my old friend Zoe Smith today. Zoe was my college photojournalism professor at Marquette University in Milwaukee. She was the first person that tried to reign me in as a young shooter and helped me improve both my quality and content. I was a junior at Marquette when she met the love of her life, Conrad. They fell in love hard and I remember how cool it was to watch her change as their relationship deepened. When Zoe got an offer to move to the U. of M. years ago, Conrad moved with her. They were like two big kids and were really devoted to one another. Conrad died last year in a freak accident at home while Zoe was teaching in England. Whenever I'd call Zoe at home, she was often at work so I got to talk to Conrad more than she sometimes. I miss him too. He was a great guy and made Zoe very happy. I'm learning that when you loose a spouse or parent, it doesn't really get "better" but rather people learn to cope with the loss somehow. They taught us an aweful lot of stuff over the last four years, but I know in my heart that the things I learn from people like Zoe often have more impact. After eating a nice dinner in Columbia together, I headed out again on I-70. I passed by Arrowhead stadium which was the site of one of my greatest sports photos ever during my Sports Illustrated tenture. It was a photo of Ryan Leaf getting sacked in the rain. SI ran it double truck and I smiled for a week straight. It was noon start game but was as dark as night the whole game. Arrowhead has great lights and so the results were fantastic. I also went through downtown St. Louis and saw the Arch as well as all the buildings downtown all lit up. It was a super clear night with a huge electrical storm raging to the East. Afgter going over the bridge headed for Louisville on I-64, I thought it better to stop when it started raining. So, not much of a mileage day, but it will make for a pretty easy day tomorrow to make it all the way home. Just 500 miles or so to be able to sing "Rocky Top" and say a final prayer of thanksgiving for my safety and spiritual jackpot on my way into town. Tomorrow I pray for and with the dead. I will remember all those that I knew in my family that have died, for those I never got to meet, for my ancestors who contributed mightily to my wanderlust, and for others that I have known that have gone on with the hope of eternal life. May the souls of the faithfully departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen and goodnight... pat

Day 24: Colorado Springs, CO to Emporia, KS, 602 miles

2007-07-10T15:19:00.002-04:00

While the “superslab” was tempting, I opted once ore for the road less traveled and headed South out of Colorado Springs to Pueblo, Colorado where I hooked up with US50. I was immediately rewarded for that decision as US50 parallels the Arkansas River and sports a ton of old filling stations on it’s lonely route. Once they put in I-70 in Colorado, places along US50 went the way of “Radiator Springs” in the movie cars. Many businesses just shut down once the traffic along the old two-laner waned. It was still hot, however, so I stopped often to drink water and give my touché a rest. There are many old motels from the 40’s and 50’s that look like someone just walked away from them in the middle of the night. The weird thing is that in many cases, they never became any other business so there they sit to this day. There are old cars and trucks often in the parking lots, now grown up with weeds. As you travel East on US50, there is a gradual turn from rolling hills to flat land, as the Rockies quickly disappear in my rear view mirrors. It’s always sad to leave Colorado Springs as the place provides me a wellspring of memories and I have so many connections with relatives there and the good times we’ve shared through the years. Relationships that are family seem progressive where you can pick up right where you left off the last time. There are bits of US50 like that. The road’s old steel & rivet bridges have all been replaced with modern concrete affairs but if you pay attention, every 60 miles or so, you can spot a section of old US50 that runs parallel to the new road. These are mostly small frontage roads that serve as overbuilt driveway access for farms and ranches but the distinctive double yellow lines can still be seen though they are filled with cracks and whoop-de-do’s. The small towns, with cheap gas and food are still a welcome sight for me after my Alaskan and Canadian experiences. At one point after the middle Kansas section of the road got flat and straight, I got a little bored and reprogrammed the GPS to look for a straight line, rather than shortest time to the next destination. It told me to turn right about a mile up and then it brought me to a T intersection about 20 miles to the South where it told me to head East again. It was a gravel road. Wow… I wasn’t really ready to do dirt again as my butt was pretty sore, but the though of backtracking all that way just sounded like a bad idea so I turned left. I rode mostly in the right hand rut and after about fifteen minutes, I got my gravel legs back and was able to make about 45 mph safely. The problem is that it kept going… and going, and going… The GPS kept saying next turn 16 miles and then I’d get to it and it was a crossroads with other dirt roads. So I ended up killing a couple hours in KS just riding on the dirt. Once I finally made my way back to civilization, I came into the outskirts of Dodge City, KS. I saw this huge building through the massive heat waves of the day some distance ahead. I made for it by dead reckoning and as I got closer, I realized it was a church with a high cross maybe 100’ in the air. I assumed that it was one of those evangelical mega churches and continued towards it. When I got close, it turned out to be a Catholic Cathedral named, “Our Lady of Guadalupe.” I was stunned. But the more I thought about it, it made sense. Most of the farming in the area was done my Latino people and they had probably lived here for many years. I felt immediately convicted about my needing to re-learn Spanish so I’ll be able to serve all of the people of God, rather than just those that speak my language. The fields in Kansas stretch on and on with the corn raising itself over ten feet off the ground.
I finally limped into Emporia KS that night very tired after my first day on the bike after taking three days off. It felt good to shower and lay on my bed with the AC on. Then I did my evening prayer and crashed hard. I thought today mainly of the high school students in Haiti. I wondered what they were doing today because school was out. They love to play cards and dominoes under the shade of trees if they can find it. They play for money but since no one has any, they pick leaves off of the trees in equal amounts for each player. That way it’s fair as they all start out with the same amount just like in Monopoly. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a board game down there so I might have to bring one next time I go. Amazing that they play with leaves… God Bless you & good night.

Day 23: Day off, hike 5 miles (on foot)

2007-07-10T15:19:00.001-04:00

Sunday was a great day. I went hiking with my Uncle Ed and his friend Tim Maceldowney. I’ve heard all kinds of stories about Tim through the years as he and Ed are best friends. We hiked up a mountain next to Mt. Cutler but the name escapes me now. It was about a five mile hike with roughly a 1000’ of elevation gain. It was great to be walking rather than riding. It felt good to stretch and strain my leg muscles and there was no sitting either. On top, I gobbled up a bag of my favorite fruit: Mt. Ranier Cherries!!! What a great gig… We then headed down and went to breakfast at a Mexican place called Rudy’s near Broadmoor. I had a green chili and cheese omelet with frijoles. Man was it good and hot! Then Ed and I visited the graves of his Mom and Dad, my grandparents, together. Try as one might to learn more and more stories about ancestors, I’ve realized only recently that the clues about their mystery are most easily found within one’s self and with parents. I never knew my Grandpa Racey and it frustrated me for most of my adult life. Now, I just get to know my dad more and my aunts and I get the same thing. My grandpa Murphy was a Moose, and former 4th degree Knight in the Knights of Columbus. My friend Rich Cataldi, back in Knoxville, held my Grandpa Murphy’s sword as we processed into the Ordination Mass just a month ago.
At the end of the day, I headed over to my Uncle Chuck and Aunt MaryLou’s house for dinner with their family. I also got to see my second cousin, Amelia for the first time. Casa de Murphy as I call it, is always a warm home to be in and I always feel welcome there. My Uncle Chuck cooked up a huge meal with steaks, grilled onions and mushrooms, beans, corn on the cob, various salads… It was a feast to behold; I ate every bite! My cousins Maureeen, Kathleen, Brian, and Kevin were all on hand as well as some of their kids. It was great to see them all again. After everyone went home, MaryLou and Chuck questioned me about my ordination and about Haiti. We spoke for some time as I shared my heart with them about both subjects. Chuck is a great photographer and is the guy that got me started when I was a kid. He took me downtown to a pawnshop on Van Buren Street in Chicago and helped me pick out my first camera. He has been a constant and encouraging force in my own work through the years. His eye is skilled to be sure, as he designs and builds things that others just don’t see until completion. Their home is quite beautiful and the sunset blasts right through the main part of the house every evening. The walls are filled with paintings and photographs as they’ve been collecting for years. Every time you go there, there are new images to see. My Aunt MaryLou is awesome, and I love to talk to her for hours on end. I was very tired and crashed after our talk.

Day 22: Day off in Colorado Springs, 0 miles

2007-07-10T15:14:00.000-04:00

I arrived around 6:30pm here at my Uncle Ed’s house last night. We’ve always enjoyed a special relationship ever since I was a kid. He was one of the first adults to ask me how I was and really mean it. He was asking in an adult to adult mode when I was probably seven. He’s always had an easy way of relating to people and he’s an easy guy to get along with. My cousins have been calling him “Uncle Easy” for years for this very reason. We had a great steak dinner prepared by ed’s wife Roe, who is Italian and can make spam taste great! My Uncle Ed is in the auto auction business as a wholesaler so people trade their cars in at dealerships, then they want the thing off their lot, so Ed runs it through various auctions and moves them. He sometimes moves as many as 100 cars per month that way. He took me to the Pyramid auto auction in Monument today. We had a blast. These auctions are a smorgisbord of diverse people, some rich, mostly poor. It is like gym class in high school where all walks of life are present in one place. I saw everything from a $21,000 4x4 pickup sell to a lot of older cars burning oil. Some had to be pushed through the line with a 4 wheeler. It was great to spend time with him out there in the heat of the day. We enjoyed fajita tacos together and he sold five cars. I could have fun with my Uncle Ed getting the thumb-screw applied together. He’s more best friend or older brother to me than an uncle. After the auction, we went back to the house and relaxed a little bit. I fixed a leaky regulator on their grill with some help from both Roe and Ed. Then I went to mass at Sacred Heart on Colorado Ave. Sacred Heart is where I always go to mass in the springs. There is a lot of history there as my Grandfather Martin J. Murphy used to attend daily mass there with his big white dog, Bessie. Once, years ago when he was still alive, a tourist visiting was offended and told the pastor about how horrible it was for the the dog to be inside the church, he replied, “it may look like a dog, but she’s a third order Carmelite: the dog stays.” Sacred Heart is also significant because of the spirit of the place and the people in it. It’s filled every mass with a huge variety of people: there are blacks, whites, Mexicans, other Latinos, street people, old hippies, and millenials. It somehow escapes the sameness of the normally all white middle class population of many Catholic churches I’ve been to in my life. Fr. Pat offered the mass that evening and he was funny, but nailed you with his message that came, from both the gospel as well as the heart and mind of the Church. Every time I hear a homily like that, it makes me want to find a rock to crawl under when it comes my turn to preach. Rick Stern, our homiletics professor at St. Meinrad always used to tell us that preaching should make the comfortable uncomfortable and the uncomfortable comfortable. Fr. Pat did that Saturday night for sure. Kneeling in the sanctuary where my Grandfather knelt, prayed, and read the scriptures is something I never tire of. What a community it is there! It’s a good model to pray over as I’ll be reporting for duty to my new parish at St. Albert the Great this weekend for all three masses. I’ve been praying every day of this journey for the new parish as well as my old one at St. Therese. May God bless both gatherings of the faithful to overflowing. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

Day 21: Laramie Wyoming to Colorado Springs, 354 miles

2007-07-10T14:53:00.000-04:00

Kaitlin is amazing and cooked a full breakfast for me this morning complete with eggs, bacon, pancakes and fresh cherries. It was n awesome way to start the day. Then I got back on the machine and headed down hwy. 287, headed for Loveland and my soon to be new tires. It was a gorgeous ride with no traffic on the two-laner. I saw some caribou and made a few frames as a storm began to brew to the south. I got caught in it as it first threw freezing rain at me, and then before I could get stopped and change to my warm stuff, I got hailed on. Then it was over and the sun came back out. It was probably a 45 degree temperature change from 90, down to 45, and then back up to 90 again in maybe 15 minutes. I made it just fine to the BMW dealership with help from my constant companion, “Shirley,” the gps unit. They were nice people and even let me “borrow” the new BMW F800s bike that just came out. I took it for a spin and wow, what a bike. Weighs under 400 lbs., belt drive, smoothest shifting gearbox I’ve ever experienced and the brakes were beyond impressive. It was pretty cool to be able to park my big monster and hop on that lean and nimble speedster. A four magazines and a couple hours later they took my money and off I went. I rode to Estes Park where I spent many a summer Saturday night when I was at camp as a kid. We’d ride in on an old school bus, go to the go-kart races, and then downtown to shop at the Indian Emporium and go to Ripley’s Believe it or not. My favorite place is no longer there, sadly. It was called the “Dog House” and was the smallest hot-dog stand I’ve ever seen, sandwiched between two buildings. Their specialty were Coney Island dogs with mustard, chili, and a lot of onions. I could put away three of them. After a week of “bug juice” and mystery meat, the “Dog House” was always a welcome sight. I then continued on Hwy 7 South to Allenspark Colorado where I used to attend Camp St. Malo. I would fly from Chicago to Denver where a councelor would pick me up in a big Dodge van. Then we’d drive those treacherous roads up into the mountains to camp. Every morning began with the bell ringing in the New Lodge, which called us to the Chapel on the Rock for mass. The chapel is built in honor of St. Catherine of Sienna and is one of the most beautiful settings for a church anywhere. When the cap was decommissioned, by the Diocese of Denver in 1983, they removed Fr. Jarrard from his post there and re-assigned him. When I entered the chapel this time, it has been a while since I’d been there last. The red candle that signifies the Lord’s presence in the Eucharist was out and the door to the tabernacle was closed and locked. That door should have been open to show Jesus was not inside. When they removed the priest, they also removed regular mass for the people of Allenspark. Every day at mass all of us campers would sit in the front pews and the older people from town would sit in the back or stand because it was so small. I was shocked when I teared up, thinking about all those masses I attended there in the holy place. Camp St. Malo was a paradise from me and many of my friends from Chicago. The Coffeys, Joe Fontana, Jerry Ablan, Billy Polk, and myself all came to be known as the Chicago mob s we’d step off the plane in Denver “made guys.” We shot .22 rifles, arrows, rode horses, made candles, worked with leather, and hiked up and down the mountains of the St. Vrain range in Rocky Mountain National Park. We went to mass every morning and had chapel every night. Fr. Bob was a good homilist and knew how to talk to young boys. He encouraged us to keep our heads up so we could see all of God’s creation rather than just look at the trail on our hikes. He only had about 10 sermons and because I stayed six weeks, I got to know them all pretty well. But he meant every word he said and so I always enjoyed hearing him share his perspectives on Jesus and the gospel. Much later in life when I had my conversion experience in high school (evangelicalspeak: getting saved), I thought back on my time at Camp St. Malo. I remember being at mass or in chapel and clasping my hands tightly together in prayer, thinking that if I shut my eyes really tight as well as my hands, that God might hear me and know that I was in earnest. I tell people that I loved God then, even as a little boy, but that I didn’t know him as others might have. I think many Catholics and other Christians fall into this category. I have always said that my favorite scripture is when the man says, “Yes Lord, I do believe… help me in m unbelief.” That’s me. I do believe in the Trinity, in the holy Eucharist, in the gospels, and now I believe fully in the Tradition of our catholic faith. And yet I exhibit my unbelief in some of my actions and thoughts. We are a sinful people, prone to go our own way when we know there is another better path. But to be walking on and even off that path, allowing God to help us when we fall is still a great blessing. Better to know the path and try to stay on it even when unsuccessful, than the alternative which is to lead a life of total distraction, and ignoring the fact that God has a specific plan for each of us.

Day 20: Casper, Wyoming to Laramie, Wyoming 154 miles

2007-07-10T14:52:00.001-04:00

Got in late, late, late, last night around 11pm. The last 100 miles was nerve racking as there were many deer and elk standing inside the highway fence on the road watching me go by. These are not deer like we’re accustomed to in Knoxville; these suckers are “ginormous,” as Sophie would say. Anyway, I was doing about 50mph in a 75 zone. I have a good buddy named Spencer who is still in a seminary program. He considers himself a level three (of four) Calvinist. I got to thinking about predestination on that 100 mile section of my ride. If you really believe God knows what your every move is going to be, and that he pre-selects those who are to be saved, then you could go as fast as you like on that highway. I’m a free-will man, all the way, however. I believe God has a sense of what we might do from moment to moment, but that in gifting us with being made in the image and likeness of Himself, that we are truly free to self-direct our lives. And so I felt it would be irresponsible to go any faster and tempt hitting one of those creatures. My intention with driving all the way to Casper was that it was a big town and maybe I could get tires there. No go. I called all four shops and no one had what I needed. I did some more checking and realized my only hope would be Colorado. I called the dealership in Loveland, and they saved me a set so I could show up tomorrow morning and get them put on while I waited. So, after setting that up, I headed for Laramie where I first met up with my cousin Brendan Murphy at his realty office. Then I headed to his house where I met up with my Uncle John, Aunt Mary, Brendan’s wife Kaitlin, and their little red-haired daughter, Amelia. After so much time by myself on the road, it was fantastic to hang out with some family. They are all building a small empire in rental real estate up there in Wyoming. Laramie is a way cool college town filled with cowboys. I really enjoyed my easy day there.

2007-07-05T05:14:00.000-04:00

2007-07-05T05:06:00.000-04:00

Day 19: Shelby, Montana to Casper, Wyoming 658 miles

2007-07-05T04:27:00.001-04:00

OK, so I sort of forgot about the heat down here. It was over 100 degrees from noon on today so I had to stop a lot to hydrate. Ellie got me this cool Camelback cup thingamabob that I can take out of my tank-case while riding, and drink. The only problem is that it holds only a half-liter. Of course Ellie wanted me to get the bigger one, but I refused. I have great feelings of ambivalence today about my ride. I rode past the actual ground that the battle of Little Big Horn was fought on. I had seen it twice before so I didn’t stop but I had to think about that in perspective of it being the 4th of July. I reflected on how the “First Nation” has fared since that battle and of course, the answer is not one I like to think about. I’ve passed through many reservations on my ride and none of their Indian homes look anything like the gambling casinos. I’m familiar with the trail of tears as it went right through East Tennessee but around here, the Nez Perce Trail is local. When I cruised through Billings, Montana today, it was like a Honda Goldwing parking lot as their national Wing-Ding is being held there. I stopped for fuel and the gas station had over 100 bikes in the lot. People came up to mine and wondered. Some asked me questions, others saw the plate and remarked how far I’d come from Tennessee. My bike at this point is completely covered in bug guts, dust from all the gravel, caked on mud from the Dalton Highway, etc… One man asked me, “Do you ever wash that thing?” With the bright chrome reflections blinding me from all the chrome parked behind him, I responded, “you mean you’re supposed to wash them?” We both laughed and then I told them where I’d come from. Then they wanted photos with me… Weird! One guy had his wife behind him riding two-up and his mother next to them in a sidecar with AC in it. As I rode on, it began to get dark and I started to see fireworks going off, sometimes close, and sometimes very far away. People brought lawn chairs to a rest stop on I-25 tonight and parked their cars and trucks to watch from that high vantage point. As I rode west and then south, an electrical storm developed off in the distance. I had to laugh when all these thousands of dollars in fireworks people spent money on were completely shown up by God’s own fireworks. I stopped in that rest area, and pretty soon, no one was even watching the fireworks because their gaze was fixed further south on the sky. It was an awesome sight to see… It was a very clear night with high clouds in most of the sky. Sometimes we saw the lighting flash with its hard edges zigzagging to the ground in split seconds. Other times, the lightning was hidden behind dust storms the wind had raised up or it was inside of clouds. In either case, God’s show pretty much blew away anything that was being put up in the air from the ground. I’ve had more opportunity than most to travel, not just in this country but in many others. My folks even saw to it that my sister and I got to study abroad. Alaska was my 50th state and I have to tell you that this is an awesome country. No matter where I’ve traveled in my 42 years either for work or pleasure, I’m always happy to come home to my home in the United States. In particular, East Tennessee is a place I’ve never regretted moving to and Ellie and I have really fallen hard there. I find myself thinking more and more about home. But tomorrow I have to find tires, hopefully at the shop here in Casper when they open. If not here then Denver but I need a rear asap… Please pray that I can find some rubber tomorrow!!! God Bless you all on Independence Day!

Day 18: Valley View, Alberta to Shelby, Montana 668 miles

2007-07-05T04:26:00.000-04:00

Today there was no rain. It was overcast in the morning but as I headed further east and south, it turned into a bright beautiful day and perfect for riding. I just ate up the miles today, though my “tokus” is sore and needs a rest. I had planned on getting new tires again in Colorado Springs, but my rear tire is just about completely gone. The center of the tread pattern is now flat with the part of the tire beneath where the big treads used to be. For the record, I got these tires brand new in Calgary on Day 7. That’s just 11 days ago and over 6,000 miles… Whew! So, the mountains moved way off to the West as the road became wider, and then into a divided four-lane highway. More cars, more people, and more traffic. Going through Calgary was rough. I thought I’d beat rush hour but I hit it head on. It took me an hour to move through the 5-mile stretch through town. The heat is coming up fast as well. I switched to my warm-weather riding jacket today around noon. The sunset tonight was awesome. Seemed to go on for hours. The sky is huge in Southern Alberta and Northern Montana. God had his oils out again filling the dome with pinks, purples, reds, orange, and plenty of blue. I crossed the border into the United States about an hour ago and it feels great. I thought today about my friend Paul Gero’s father, Bob, who died a year ago today. I only met him once when I visited Paul, Nikki, and Kate in California last year. Bob had suffered a stroke some years before and so his wife Ann had been taking care of his every need. “St. Ann,” as I jokingly call her, is a walking testament to the sacrament of marriage. She stuck by her man until the very end when many would have parked him in a nursing home or worse. I’m sure it was terribly difficult for both Ann and Bob to deal with their relationship changing so radically and completely. And yet, they remained together until his death one year ago today. I seem to be surrounded by good examples of good marriages. I’m happy that I’ve been able to see so many people successful and marriage and I hope that Sophie and Patrick someday find the success Ellie and I have as well. Sometimes I have to remind myself when I work in the high school that happy marriages are sometimes more rare than I’d like to think. Today is the feast day for the apostle Thomas, who we often shortchange because of his doubting the Lord after the resurrection. St. Gregory points out in the office of readings today that, “in touching the wounds of his master’s body,” Jesus should heal our own wounds of disbelief. “The disciple who doubted then, feels Christ’s wounds, becomes a witness to the reality of the resurrection.” I remember the Jesuits teaching me long ago that doubt can b e a healthy part of faith. Sophie and I talk about this also as she sometimes struggles with the whole Catholic thing. She’s searching in her own heart for what rings true. The fact is, kids don’t wake up one day orthodox, or even faithful. It takes time and they look to their parents, parents friends, coaches, teachers, as well as priests and ministers. I experienced this crisis of faith when someone in my high school challenged my faith. He showed me that I was asleep at the wheel and that was, in many respects, the first self-conscious day I experienced as a Christian. It didn’t feel very good and so I reached out and grabbed what he had to offer. This started a long line of churches and faiths that I explored. The big surprise to me is that I felt God calling me back to the Catholic faith. I didn’t want to be “a part of that boring and un-relevant church,” I reasoned. So I distracted myself for a while. I think my family heritage as Catholic, my marriage preparation with Ellie, the Eucharist itself, and the birth of Sophie finally brought me around. Too bad it took so much… These days, I see the church as totally relevant, but you have to dig a little to dust off the gems of Truth that fill it's stature. It has been worth the ride and I'm excited to see what God has in store for me next! Tomorrow I pray for my Deacon brothers back in Knoxville who will have a big jump on me when I get back home in a week or so. While I’ll been lollygagging around North America, they’ve been hard at work, and finding their respective rolls as servant. That we may all continue to respond to God’s call now that we’re actually ordained. God Bless you ALL!!! (no exceptions) Patrick

Day 17: Fort Nelson, BC to Valley view, Alberta - 458 miles

2007-07-03T01:17:00.001-04:00

Today started out slow as I woke up at 11am in the hotel. I had a terrible day yesterday and arrived disheveled, shivering, hungry, and a mess. The lady at the front desk sat me down, made me hot chocolate and a bagel with cream cheese after telling me there was no food available on a Sunday and on Canada Day in town. The room was great with a king sized bed and very hot shower. This morning I awoke rested but my hands were very sore and didn’t feel right until I’d iced them for a while in the lobby. I then ate lunch and got on the road. I only did 458 miles today but after yesterday, I feel very good about that. I stopped a lot, sat on the front porch of a small gas station and talked to an older woman who’d been born in the station 53 years ago. She had a cool dog too so I shared my ice cream with him. The weather was warm and clear, causing me to stop a lot and shed a layer about every 100 miles. Felt great to be in sunshine and riding on dry pavement. Today as promised, I prayed in thanksgiving for the many priests that have been a part of my life. I said a decade of the rosary for each one and made little movies in my head about each one. The one about Fr. Charlie was a comedy, of course, and so I felt silly laughing inside my helmet by myself. Each one is so different than the others and yet they all responded to God’s call for their lives, as we should also. I saw more deer today and a black bear with three cubs along the side of the road. It’s amazing the stuff that’s out here. I often wonder what’s there that I can’t see… Especially when I ran through Sasquatch Crossing… hmmmmm…. Tomorrow I pray for my brother Deacon Joe Stackhouse who will have a minor surgery tomorrow morning. And I’ll pray for all those who are sick in body as well as mind. I’ll ask for the intercession of St. Blasé, martyr and bishop to pray for those that are ailing. I’ll also be praying for the Murphy clan, whom I will visit in a few days in Colorado Springs. My spiritual metaphor for the day is the road. The Alaskan Highway is long, and in rough shape, just like our lives. Sometimes people show up along the way to help us make repairs to our lives and we grow impatient as we wait for the flag car, or the guy to dump more gravel. We often miss opportunities when God sends us people to help us on our walk of faith. Sometimes we drive too fast and we miss the beauty of creation as well as the people we might have had deeper encounters with. When we come into a curve, we need to slow down and not follow others too closely. Sometimes we go too slowly or even stop progressing as people. We can get comfortable and just watch TV and work. So balance is required to ride the Alcan just as in life itself. Not too fast, not too slow, stay in between the stripes or we may have an accident that could prove fatal. We need to stay within the rules of the road of life as well, armed with natural law and the gospel of Jesus Christ. This is the truth of our lives. Part of us doesn’t really belong to us and God wants it back. I saw two really cool bumper stickers today. The first read, “Eat Moose, 10,000 wolves can’t be wrong.” The other simply stated, “Eracism.” Loved that second one. Until tomorrow then, God Bless you all richly. Patrick

Day 16: Whitehorse YT to Ft. Nelson, BC 641 miles

2007-07-02T14:35:00.001-04:00

Rain, rain, go away, please come back another day. Got Mass today at Sacred Heart Cathedral in Whitehorse, the capital city of The Yukon Territory. Fr. Jim preached an awesome homily on the readings and pulled from his own life experiences to make it all come home and real. He spoke mainly on the second reading from today. His main thrust was the relationship between freedom and service. God gives us freedom so that we can serve one another. When we misuse this self-directedness and gift from God, we get sideways with God’s plan for our lives, and we can lose sight of the Source of where our happiness comes from. He spoke well and made me want to be a good minister of the Word. He was easy, conversational, believable, and stayed on message in concert with the gospel of the day. It was great to be in community again, surrounded by people from all over the place and yet gathered together to hear God’s Word and share in the Eucharist together. I rode out of Whitehorse happy but under an overcast and dark sky… Another day in Canada, which is becoming my Egypt! It started raining about 30 miles outside of town and kept up steady for 471 miles… I kept track, as I didn’t have much else to do. I know you’re all probably getting sick of hearing about the weather, but it’s what I got.
I saw a massive buck with a huge rack today; must have been a 16 pointer. He just stood his ground and watched me ride by. I saw another 6 deer, a three legged wolf (no kidding), and two bighorn sheep, one of which almost took me out. The astounding moment though was when I rode through a valley after coming out of a high mountainous area to find about 30 buffalo in the road. I put my hazards on and stopped and waited. And waited. Then the big bull started coming towards me walking very slowly. He never took his eyes off of me. I began backing the bike up and he just kept coming. I must have backed up for sixty feet when two big trucks hauling long fifth-wheels came rolling up from the opposite direction. The bull turned around to look at them and it seemed to break his concentration on me. The RV folks stopped and started taking pictures and shooting video as I rode around them on the opposite shoulder of the road and went on about my business. I saw a bunch more buffalo and one dead road-kill deer, which was the first I’d ever seen. I have to tell you, I’m ready to be back in the USA. I’m ready for cheap gas and motel rooms, warmer weather, and the sun! I don’t want to abuse the freedom that God has given me or Ellie’s either. I passed 7500 miles today and I’m feeling like it. I mean no disrespect to the Country of Canada, especially on Canada Day, but I grow weary of the road and long for home. I have developed a blister on my right index finger where it hits the throttle… that’s crazy! I have three choices right now as I head south. I can head for home directly, head for Colorado Springs to visit my relatives and ride some cool dirt roads down there, or head for Arizona and try to meet up with my family. AZ is going to be HOT but it’s tempting. As homesick as I am, I hate to miss the opportunity to ride a motorcycle in Colorado, which has always been on my mind… I’d love to visit my old summer camp where the Chapel on the Rock is… we’ll see. Tomorrow will bring Edmonton and Calgary then… MONTANA!!! About three weeks ago, Patrick and I were driving somewhere and he said to me out of the blue, “I love all my fathers, Daddy.” I asked him what he meant. He looked at me and rolled his eyes and said, You know, Daddy. Fr. John, Fr. Bill, Fr. Chris, Fr. Gerrard, Fr. Dan…” He was right to be thankful for all our “Fathers.” So tomorrow I pray for the priests that have had impact on our lives as a family. I’d be remiss to not mention Fr. Ryan, Fr. McKenna, Fr. Bob at Camp St. Malo, Fr. Vann Johnston, and of course, Fr. Charlie Burton. I thank God for their obedience to their own respective calls and for their willingness to share their lives with ours. Tomorrow I ride, think about, and pray for them. Patrick

Day 15: Eureka AK to White Horse, Yukon Territory 575 miles

2007-07-01T03:38:00.001-04:00

God is good! All the Time, God is Good. I awoke this morning after sleeping soundly in my tent, which is usually not the case. I dressed myself before braving my winged adoring fans outside my tent who sought to suck my blood. I got camp struck fast, and I mean fast, hopped on the bike, and headed out of there. I rode about 140 miles straight to Tok, Alaska, where I dove into a short stack of pancakes and drank copious amounts of hot tea. As I put Tok behind me and headed for the Canadian border, all I could see were dark clouds looming to the southeast. I pulled over and got all my cold weather/rain stuff on and hit it again. I ran 450 miles today in the pouring rain. It’s not so bad as long as you can keep moving. Construction delays of 15 minutes can soak a set of gloves. I have three pairs of gloves with me on this trip. I basically stopped tonight when I got my last set of gloves wet. Again, the rain is a bother, but no more. I have grown so accustomed to riding in the rain that I see the good sides of it now. Most of the RV’s stay in campgrounds, the road construction people bag it, and in general, there is much less traffic. It’s also fun to see all the other bikes on the road even in the rain. Most of us are long haul sojourners, so it takes a lot more than a little rain to get us down. I no longer marvel at how the liturgy of the hours is so right on all the time. Today I read from Ezekiel 36, “I will sprinkle clean water on you to cleanse you from all your impurities, and from all your idols I will cleanse you. I will give you a new heart and place a new spirit within you…” God definitely has a sense of humor, and while I got rained on all day on the bike today, I put that tent away this morning bone dry. This trip is all about being cleansed and I am open for it’s washing of me. Tonight I’m a in a real motel with internet and a shower and everything. Whitehorse is a thriving metropolis as compared to where I’ve been hanging out lately. Last, I rode about 200 miles today with two guys on Bmers from Munich, Germany. They are doing the four corners on their bikes for the summer, which is AK, Maine, Key West, and San Diego. We took turns leading and they honored me with leading them for the last 100 miles. It’s nice in the midst of solitude to walk with others from time to time. I will get to go to mass tomorrow morning for the first time in almost two weeks. I’m very excited and looking forward to the liturgy. Have a blessed Sunday. Patrick

Day14: Fairbanks to Anchorage to Eureka, AK 505 miles

2007-07-01T03:15:00.001-04:00

Today I got to see why GM named one of their trucks after the Denali area of central Alaska. GM has nothing on Denali. The road from Fairbanks to Anchorage was mostly clear, save for getting near Anchorage. Then, all these cars showed up. I hadn’t realized that part of the riding experience of Alaska and the Northwest of Canada is the almost total absence of cars. There are pickups, and all manor of slow going motor homes and RVs, and big rigs, but virtually no cars. Anyway, you just slide on down the road in between far off snow-capped mountain ranges to the East and West. It was amazing but other than the area right around Denali, there is nobody home. There are very few businesses, and those that are there, have to rely on cellular credit card transceivers and generators for power. Alaska is still Alaska, which is why they call it the last frontier. In many ways, that’s the case. I rode too far and too long today, and I started looking for a place to stay after 10pm. No go, everything was booked up because of the rain. In rained pretty much non-stop for 400 miles but I was never cold or even wet, thanks to my riding gear and boots. I started stopping every time there was a little cabin for rent or a motel, but there was nothing available. I got through the storm and was riding dry when I realized I had to stop somewhere so I pulled into a state maintained campground around 11:30pm. Sounds crazy I know, to be setting up a tent at that hour, but realize sunset starts around 10pm and goes for about four hours. So, the local mosquito population immediately got wind of their next meal. Trying to set up a tent for a guy who doesn’t red directions is tough when it’s getting dark and there are literally hundreds of mosquitos swarming your face. So I learned fast how to put my tent together without taking anything off. I kept my gloves on, three fleece, riding jacket, and even my helmet for the ordeal. I didn’t get stung even once, but I worked up a terrible sweat in all that stuff. When I finally climbed into the tent, it was like I had just gotten out of the shower. It took some time to cool down both literally and figuratively so I turned to the Word for help. I read in the night prayer part of the hours, “he will conceal you with his pinions and under his wings you will find refuge. You will not fear the terror of the night nor the arrow that flies by day, nor the plague that prowls in darkness…” If you read that and use your imagination, imagine the relief I felt knowing that God was protecting me from the mosquitos and the foraging bears that might be in the area. I tell you, it takes more than a little nerve to go to sleep in a tent in the middle of nowhere in Alaska. I lay down listening to the birds sing to each other and I reflected on what would worry me if I were home. Maybe financial concerns, worry for my kids, stress from my crazy work schedule, or just plain being out of it in terms of my priorities. I need to trust God with these concerns in the same way I trust him tonight to keep me safe from harm. JPII was really concerned with modernism and almost every time I hear Fr. Al preach a homily, I hear his concern for giving us enough time to hear God’s voice. My adventure retreat is more than half over now, at least in terms of mileage, so now comes the task of how this time alone in solitude last so I can pull from it and use it again and again. Some of this will happen with my photography as I can put photos up in my office that will remind me of my time here. I’m at a point now where the trip is costing a lot. I just couldn’t imagine paying $15 for a cheeseburger and a coke. So I need to just settle down and finish the trip and not try to hurry for financial reasons. Tomorrow I pray for our new bishop, who has yet to be named. I can remember only too well being very lonely in college and after. I wished that God would send me the person that was to share the rest of my life with. Sometimes it hurt to be alone without someone to share the fullness of my life with. I used to pray for Ellie before I ever knew her name. It used to give me some measure of comfort as I let God in on my situation and shared with Jesus how much it hurt inside to be without my companion for life. So we will shortly be without our beloved bishop, and so join me in asking God to prepare our new bishop for us, even though we don’t know him yet or he us. In Jesus Name we pray… amen.

Day 13: Prudhoe Bay to Fairbanks, AK 535 miles

2007-06-30T23:05:00.001-04:00

This was a great day. I had already ridden the whole of the Dalton and so I knew what to expect, and the weather was really nice (no rain). The dry condition of the road changed it completely and I was able to make excellent time arriving in Fairbanks around midnight after having left PB at 11am. I wanted to leave earlier but every morning a thick heavy fog rolls in off the Arctic Ocean and I wanted to wait for it to burn off a bit before leaving. Unlike the prior day, when it was all nerves, white knuckles, and doubt about my ability off road, today was a contrast as I simply enjoyed the scenery more and looked around at the natural beauty of the place. I watched the caribou playing on the tundra as I started out, then watched the blue saturate the sky and appear behind the Brooks Range as I continued south. Then after coming off of Atigon Pass out of the first range, I watched the trees inch their way up towards the sky. They seemed to gain about ten feet of height for every 150 miles. So the arctic tundra purple flowers gave way to scrub, and it to small shrubs and bushy plants, and finally to small pines. The reality hit me as I rode south that I‘ll not likely ever be here again, especially on two wheels. But it is one place that I’ll never look at a map again and wonder about. Instead, I’ll be able to show my son and daughter where I went and tell them stories that will evolve and change over the years as the mountains get higher, the mud deeper, and my skill behind the handlebars increases with every year I grow older. Such as it is with real life adventures; they are based in truth but take on added meaning with the myths that evolve about those we love. I was reminded by my mother, yesterday that both my Grandpa Murphy and my Grandfather Hefting loved motorcycles. The word is that Charlie Hefting had one of the first bikes on Manilla long before the war. My first bike was a Suzuki FA50 that I convinced my parents I should have. I saved up the money and bought it with my own money and rode that thing all over Chicago. I used to take Western Ave. from the South Side and then go Archer straight downtown. I never lost that love of bikes and have it still. There is nothing that will get me out of a bad mood faster than riding a motorcycle. It felt good today to be heading back home, even though it will take me weeks to finally arrive there. I’m not sure why God puts these crazy dreams into my heart and head but this whole time for me has been terrificly theraputic. I thank God for the opportunity to spend all this time with him and to pray.

Day 12: Yukon River Crossing to Prudhoe Bay, Alaska 504 miles

2007-06-28T01:14:00.000-04:00

Today was the most challenging day that I have ever spent on a motorcycle. I am completely worn out. My wrists, lower back, neck, and leg muscles have all suffered mightily today, mostly from extreme fatigue and stress. The Dalton Highway is nothing to be toyed with. I had ample opportunities to lay the bike down today but did not. There are always two voices in your head when you ride. One tells you all the time to go faster, and lean more. The other says to slow down and back way off. The reality is that any kind of injury that would not allow me to continue riding would cost thousands of dollars in transport to a hospital, bike transport, shipping, etc. So I listened all day only to the voice that told me to slow down. I arrived at the top of the world today, safe and sound, albeit sore. I left the Yukon River Crossing at 8:30am and rode all day stopping only once for fuel and lunch. I arrived here at about 7:30pm local time, which is four hours earlier than EST. Eleven hours in the saddle is enough to tire anyone out, but this day was one for the books. Treacherous roads beyond belief, huge trucks hurling by throwing stones and dust in their wake. Weather constantly shifting from sunny to overcast, and then a little rain. But the important thing is that it was a little rain. The road was comparatively dry for the Dalton which meant that I could sometimes make as much as 60 mph on dirt, maybe 50 on gravel with a hard clay underneath, and around 30 mph in the rain. The bad news is the deep gravel. They pour about 1/2” of gravel over the top of hard packed clay so the truck tires have something to grab at and get traction. The bad news is that they often pour on too much gravel so that it’s 3” thick. You can be running along at 50 mph, come over a hill or around a corner and you have to brake hard to slow down before you hit the loose stuff. In the early part of the day, it was fun. But as you tire, you make decisions more slowly and you reaction time elongates which can spell danger. The last 100 miles of the trip it got very cold, once I dropped out of the North Slope of the Brooks mountain Range. I'm talking 30 degrees with 40 mph winds. But my gear held up and the heated grips on the BMW kept even my fingers from getting uncomfortable. There are no more trees anywhere as all around me is arctic tundra with gorgeous purple flowers everywhere. When I pulled up to the motel for the night, there were five other bikes out front. Two were pretty badly damaged from dumping in the soft black mud ruts that are so often found along the Dalton. Both of the guys were experienced riders in dirt long before this trip. They are both OK but their bikes are pretty well mangled, but operational. I am feeling very happy about both my performance today as well as God’s own hand protecting me. So if you prayed for me today, please do it again tomorrow as I have to go right back down that road again. On the spiritual side, I have a massive sense of relief that this final destination has been met. I have traveled 4961 miles in just 12 days. It has been difficult and wonderful. It’s been exciting and uplifting. I have never spent so much time hanging out with God in my entire life and that feels really good. But tomorrow brings a new direction and course; South East will bring me home to my family and all that is familiar to me. To my beloved mountains and rivers of East Tennessee, and to my friends and to my new parish, St. Albert the Great. They had their first Sunday mass without me the other day so I’m looking forward to getting back to learning the ropes there and working with the terrific staff that Fr. Chris has put together. I have thought deeply of the moments of my ordination these last twelve days. They are moments to be memorized and captured in my imagination so they can be a font from which I’ll draw from for the rest of my life. God has been so good to us as a family. We are so blessed to have our health and such wonderful lives together. It is only right that Ellie, Sophie, Patrick, and I should give some of that back to God in service to others through the mystery of holy orders. Honestly, today I mostly prayed that God would watch over me and keep me safe from harm. I suspect there will be more of that tomorrow as well. But after that, I will pray for Bishop Kurtz, that he make the needed preparations for both his departure from us as well as his arrival to the lucky people of Louisville. I will thank God that he had the vision and love of diaconate so as to allow so many of us to be ordained. Thanks to all of you that have prayed or will pray for me on this trip. Until the next wireless connection… God Bless you all! patrick

Day 11: Tok, Alaska to the Yukon River Crossing, mile 50, The Dalton Hwy. 431 mi.

2007-06-28T01:12:00.000-04:00

Woke up late today and then worked on responding to e-mails, which was great. Had a nice breakfast and afterwards, while I was gassing up, I met another guy on a BMW named Quint Whemer. We started talking and he’s from Tinley Park, IL where I used to work in camera shop in an older mall that he remembered. We ended up riding together all the way through Fairbanks. It’s so different riding alone vs. with someone. It was really nice to have someone along, even though we couldn’t speak to each other. When I ride with my buddy Deacon Dan Hosford, he often holds out his hand as if to say, “look at that beautiful scene over there.” We showed each other moose way off in distant fields, deer that only one of us would spot and share it with the other, and so on. In Fairbanks, he even bought me lunch at a Mexican place I found on the GPS. Quint’s family is Greek Orthodox but he married a Catholic girl, which has not set well with his mother. We had a great discussion about our respective faiths and he joked about helping build a Catholic school and church in Tinley. After lunch, I was feeling rested so I started up the McKenzie Hwy. Towards the beginning of the Dalton Highway, which is what this whole trip has been about. I did the whole Mckenzie and decided to start in on the Dalton. I went about 50 miles and stopped to gas up and crash for the night in another bunkhouse for oilworkers. Just like in Haiti, the only power comes from a diesel generator that runs 24/7. I just paid $12.50 for a burger and $4.79 per gallon for fuel. In this wild place near the Arctic Circle, there is very little infrastructure. Everything has to come up the road to get here and its all expensive because of the transportation costs. Just like in Haiti, most of the land there is owned by a select few of the most wealthy. Here in Alaska, most of the land where I’ll be hading tomorrow, is owned by oil companies. The Dalton is daunting. It offers every type of surface that you want to avoid at all costs on a motorcycle in normal driving. There is a lot of loose gravel, large fields of rocks the size of your fist in mud, just plain mud, and hard packed clay that when wet is like glare ice. There are stretches that are paved but they don’t last long when you get on them. You have to really pay attention or else you’re in trouble. It’s been hard for me to look at the vistas the Dalton shows me as I’m single-minded about watching the road directly in front of me. The permafrost (ground that never un-freezes) breaks up all the work they do in the three month period during the thaw. Then it freezes again and a lot of the road deteriorates immediately. Sometimes the asphalt (when there is some) undulates like a long accordion for ten miles straight. The Dalton Highway is the adventure rider’s dream and there are about 10 BMW bikes for every truck on the road up here. I have never seen so many GS style bikes in one place. Even though I’ve only done 50 miles of the Dalton, I’m more than leery. I have 24 years of riding experience but none of it is off road. I have the perfect bike for this trip but it’s loaded for bear (no pun intended). And I am weary from eleven straight days in the saddle. Then there are the trucks. These are twice as long as the biggest trucks you see on the road in the lower 48, hauling two trailers, and grinding up the road with 30 wheels. The drivers know every inch of the Dalton and push their rigs to the limits of traction. I have to constantly watch my mirrors as well as look for dust ahead to anticipate when to pull over and let these behemoth machines by me. The only thing that makes me want to push on is that I don’t want to have come this far to back away from the challenge, and I know so many of you are really praying for me. When I wake up tomorrow, I’ll be off to my ultimate destination of Prudhoe Bay, Alaska. It’s about 319 miles of the worst road imaginable and it’s supposed to be below freezing at the peak of the Brooks Range tomorrow. With no internet access, I can’t upload this tonight so you may not see this post for a few days. But this is why we must have faith and trust in God, our Father in heaven, so trust I will. Goodnight and God Bless you. Pat

Day 10: Watson Lake, Yukon Territory to Tok, Alaska – 621 miles

2007-06-26T02:47:00.000-04:00

OK, forget all I said about yesterday being my best riding day ever. Today was it for sure. Left Watson Lake around 8am in a light drizzle and a dark overcast sky. About 50 miles up the road, the drizzle ended and it stayed overcast, which is good for seeing. The Alaskan Highway pretty much is a two-laner after you get out of Ft. Nelson. It’s very straight until you hit the Yukon Territory where it becomes a twisty motorcycle lovin’ mess of curves. There’s all kinds of water to get around, a huge lake you actually drive across (raised road bed), there are tons of rivers and ponds everywhere, and tons of wildlife. Just today I saw four moose, an eagle, a fox (came within 15’ of me at a campground), about thirty buffalo, and four bears. Oh, yeah, and a scrawny jackrabbit that was cute, but unimpressive compared to the bears and such. I just ate up the miles and only stopped for gas, which got all the way up to $35 per tank (normally $20 in K-town). I only rode that far because I felt great and was not tired. I swear the day went fast, even though I was in the saddle for 13 hours. The Yukon is a gorgeous place that deserves more than my drive-by descriptions. I felt as if God was putting on a slideshow for me all day long. The road would rise and fall to the cadence of the landscape, always offering me gentle curves and views all around; I would constantly check my mirrors as the light would be opposite what I was seeing. I feel pretty small up here. I keep looking at the motorcycle graphic on the GPS screen and it’s about 150 miles long. I know too well how small I really am, especially in the midst of all this unspoiled nature scenery and unspeakable beauty. Before this trip, I would have told anyone that asked me that the Colorado Rockies and northern Arizona are the two most beautiful places in the U.S. Think the Alps and square that. These Northern Rockies, as they are called, just stretch on and on from Tampa Bay to Cincinnati. Think of it. And I haven’t even seen all of it yet. I’m just 93 miles over the border into Alaska in a town called Tok. I keep trying to imagine this place in winter and I keep looking for Jack London’s “Buck,” but he must be always in the wintertime of the writer’s imagination. Not to be too much of a geek, but the BMW is flawless. It looks like Hell and back, but she runs smooth and never misses a stroke. She’s also only used a tiny bit of oil in 4400 miles, which is amazing. These bikes are supposed to use .75 quart every 2500 miles., so I am pleased. I checked the air filter today as I rode probably on 90 miles of dusty gravel due to Alcan road construction. She was clean too. I have never seen so many bikes like mine in one place. BMW’s comprise probably 50% of all the bikes on the road. There are a lot of Harleys up here too, which speaks volumes about their successful efforts to get their bikes dependable.
You know, every person I’ve ever been to Haiti with comments on the need for a good road. And here I am traveling on a road that in many ways, makes no sense. So few people travel on the Alcan, and it requires huge cash to maintain it… But we can, and that’s the difference between us and Haiti. They can’t get even a basic economy going because they’ve been locked into economic slavery for centuries. In four hours time, on the Alcan Highway, I can travel about 280 miles. In Haiti, it takes four hours to go 43 miles. Tomorrow, all day, I pray for teachers, starting with my wife because I am biased. I will pray for the teachers in Boucan-Carre who pour all they know into the younger generations looking to them for answers. Please join me in remembering all those who have touched your lives through the years by sharing their gifts with you. Where would I be without Mrs.Vieichfela at Montessori, or Mr. Coe at Marist, or CJ from Morgan Park high school or Zoe Smith from MU? Who knows? May God bless your day tomorrow, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, Amen.

Where the heck is he now???? see the map!

2007-06-25T09:52:00.001-04:00

My good friend Jordan Pyda found this cool map and made my progress in a black line so you all could see where I am day to day. (GO TO LINKS LIST AT BOTTOM LEFT OF THIS PAGE). He should be studying for his MCAT exam and he's obviously procrastinating. I will be praying for Jordan's study habits today and for all the doctors who work day to day in Haiti, for the docs who make medical mission trips, and for the nurses who also serve Haiti. And last for the rest of us who's experience is limited to bandaids, that we can come to understand how our generosity impacts all medical attention in Haiti. That God may bless richly, all those who give medical care to the poor, for their important and often live saving service of the poor.

Day 9: Sasquatch Crossing BC to Watson Lake, Yukon Territory – 485 miles

2007-06-25T01:03:00.001-04:00

I awoke to the sound of rain this morning and it kept on raining but today, I asked God to show me how to see rain the way He sees it: for making things grow. So this morning’s prayer included this abbreviated text from Revelation 19. “ All you waters above the heavens, Bless the Lord, Every shower and dew, Bless the Lord, All you winds, Bless the Lord, Cold and Chill, Bless the Lord, Dew and Rain, bless the Lord, Ice and Snow, Bless the Lord.” The one that was missing from this was Hail and Wind, bless the Lord, but I’m getting ahead of myself. Anyway, you get the idea… So if it’s going to rain all day, I figured I may as well see the bright side of all that and so I proclaimed the antiphon as my own, “As morning breaks I look to you O’God, to be my strength this day alleluia.” Out of my 485 miles today, I would estimate maybe 225 of them was under some form of precipitation. I would estimate that 100 miles of it was in a constant downpour of hail. But I never got cold and the new tires held firm their grip on the road even when my nerve was strained. I need to buy a new book of adjectives to describe this part of the world. Today was for sure the best day I’ve ever experienced behind the handlebars of a bike. I ran for miles and miles, sometimes going for an hour before I saw another vehicle on the road. The Canadian Rockies are majestic and mighty, and big, and they just keep going mile after mile. Breaking into the Yukon Territory was a big lift to my spirits as well. Yesterday I finally got to the Alcan Hwy., which has been the object of my desire for some time. But crossing into the Yukon, meant that the USA is no longer beneath me anymore. I am really far from home. The GPS is showing 3854 miles since leaving Knoxville. Wow. It’s hard for me even now to understand the concept of how far away Prudhoe Bay is from everything. To put it in perspective, I could have left Knoxville and driven to Los Angeles and turned around and made back to Knoxville by now. But I still have more than a day’s ride to make it to Tok, Alaska. So the morning started with rain, and I guess God was preparing me for another "water" experience today that I’ll never forget. I got bogus information on when mass was in Ft. Nelson, BC and I arrived as people were coming out of the church. I was really disappointed but I entered anyway as I figured I could pray for a while and check out the tabernacle. So I walked in and a woman named Kate was preparing the baptismal font. I didn’t want to interrupt so I just watched as she read from the baptismal book for children and baptized a little baby named Craig as his mother Darcy, 19, held him. After they finished, I asked Kate if they had chrism oil. She said they did and asked if I was a priest. I told her no, but that I was a newly ordained Deacon. She immediately brought the dirty, scary looking biker dude onto the altar and shoved the rites book in my left hand and the small thimble sized oil dispenser in the other. So I got to anoint baby Craig and give the blessing to his mother and Godparents this morning. So as it turns out, water is a very good thing. It helps everything green grow, and welcomes the newly baptized into God’s own family. Kate later told me that Darcy was really upset that Fr. David wasn’t there to be able to baptize her son. I later heard her say softly to her baby boy, “See? I told you God would make this right.” I added a little water to the Lord’s today as I made my exit from that little tiny church. I now have a real relationship in Christ with a native woman and her baby. I tell you this was an awesome day. I thank God for my folks that made it a priority for me to get baptized by a Navy Chaplain forty some years ago. We often forget the importance of our baptism and it’s something we should reflect on often. God Bless you, and good night.

Day 8: onwards to Sasquatch Crossing, British Columbia. 385 miles

2007-06-25T00:35:00.000-04:00

After yesterday, today was demoralizing in many ways. Right after dark last night, the wind started blowing, then thunder and lightning, etc… It rained and rained all night long with my little tent blowing back and forth. I maybe got two hours sleep last night, and when I awoke, I tried to wait out the storm. After three hours from 5am-8, I just lay there and tried to sleep as I was very tired. I finally gave up waiting and started to strike my little camp in the downpour. Got pretty soaked so I had to change clothes again, then hopped on the bike and navigated a four kilometer run on gravel to the main road. There was so much water, it was more like riding upriver than up a road. Once I got going and found the rhythm of the rain and road, I was better. Riding in rain is very stressful because it takes so much more concentration than riding on dry pavement. It also turned very cold. I’d guess this morning was in the high 40’s and probably the warmest it got today was around 55F. There were some bright spots to today, however. I spoke with Ellie twice, I saw some breathtaking scenery, and I made it to and past Dawson Creek, BC, which is mile “0” of the Alaskan Highway. The road is mostly two-lane now with occasional four lane interludes through major towns. Gas is now 1.20 per litre and going up fast as I head northwest. It’s a third more than I pay at home for the same fuel. I ran into four guys on Harleys today from West Virginia. They stop every 100 miles and have a beer from a big cooler they carry; may God protect them!!! By 3:30 I was chilled to the bone and just done. I was having trouble keeping my eyes open so I began looking for a place to stay for the night. I stopped at a small place in the middle of nowhere and tonight is another first for me as I’m staying in “the bunkhouse.” I had no idea what that was but it was $50 vs. $120 per night. A bunkhouse is made of many single-wide trailers all connected together with a common roof. All of the interior walls are torn out and small bedrooms are made with communal bathrooms down the hall. It turns out that it’s how the oil workers stay in AK most of the time. So I’m staying in a tiny room with a small bed, closet, chair, and T.V. I’m the only occupant tonight so I have all 84 rooms to myself. Normally these rooms are for “slashers” (chain saw guys who clear woods), “rig pigs” (guys who assemble and operate oil rigs, “g-geeks” (field geologists who actually find oil), and haulers (truckers). I spent some time with a young guy named Clint that works at the bunkhouse. He makes $110 per day and is expected to work for a fe months at a time. He cares for all the rooms plus the 18 motel rooms as well.He has no car so when he want to get time off, he takes a bus 16 hours to see his mother. He has no health insurance. He aspires for a “dangerous job with more cash,.” He says he goes crazy up there sometimes and his life revolves around TV shows since it’s almost always light this time of year. Tomorrow I need to find a place to go to mass. The next biggest town from here to the north is about 2.5 hours ride. My plan is to get up there and then see if I can find mass. Yesterday at Holy Spirit was a big shot in the arm, but Sunday mass is Sunday mass.

Day 7: Brooks, Alberta, CAN to somewhere North of Edmonton on 43N – 575 mi.

2007-06-25T00:24:00.000-04:00

I’m sitting inside my tent in a private campground surrounded by huge pine trees, an apple orchard, and foothills. The birds are singing and there is a gentle breeze coming through the upper flap of my tent. The sun is setting right now, illuminating the entire inside of my orange tent, filling the inside with light. From the office of readings I read the words of St. Augustine in speaking about the solemnity of St. Peter and St. Paul: “Let us embrace what they believed, their life, their labors, their suffering, their preaching, and their confession of faith.” I have to tell you that I’ve been doing a little suffering as of late. Seven straight days of punishing myself is beginning to take its toll on my old body. But I have so much to be thankful for. As I rode today, I was just constantly seeing new things. Today, I saw two fox and four white-tail deer just cruising up the road. The beauty of this part of Canada is breathtaking. The sheer size of this place boggles the mind. I rode about 3500 miles since leaving Knoxville and yet today I still have 2250 miles to get to the Dalton Highway. I’ve been getting a little lonely as well. To use my cell phone is really expensive now because of international roaming so I’ve been texting Ellie. This morning after trying five different Catholic churches in the last three days, I finally got to mass at Holy Spirit Parish in South Calgary. I need to try to explain how cool it was to find my home as a participant in the mass today in light of this trip. As I say, it’s been a bit lonely out there on Day 7. The only people I talk to are the people I buy gas and food from. Otherwise, I ride. Coming into that warm parish today reminded me that I can’t go anywhere to escape God’s love and mercy, but also that the Catholic church is my home. Singing the entrance hymn really sealed that for me. Before mass, one guy welcomed me by calling me Fr. as I walked into the church with all my gear on. WEIRD. I asked him why he thought I was a priest and he said that I looked at peace with myself and happy. I told him that I had just been ordained a deacon and he said, “of course you were… full of grace you are.” He then told the Indian priest who was saying mass. He came over and with eyes full of radience, he kissed my hands and then offered to let me concelebrate with him. I declined as it would have made mass start late, but the offer was there. Bam!, just like that, I was part of the community. The mass is supernatural. It takes us to Jesus directly and it had been this that I hungered for these last few days. When the creed says one holy catholic and apostolic church, it’s real!
I ate Chinese for lunch today and my fortune cookie reads, “You will soon find more adventure in life.” I’m not sure I’m ready for any more than I’ve got right now… I had to stop in Calgary to get a new set of tires on the bike. They are knobbys and when I rode out of the BM’er place, I thought I was being followed by a big foot 4x4 truck. Turned out it was me. The new tires are really loud, even as loud as the engine at cruising speed. But I’ve already been down a gravel road about five miles long and man, do they make a difference. And now for Sande Berger. She was a woman who had battled for ten years with cancer when I heard through the grapevine that she had turned for the worse. I’m not sure what made me talk to her daughter Stacey, but I did. I offered to go and see her and to bring her communion once a week. I cannot tell you to this day what made me do that. Why would anyone want to hang out with a person that is dying? The answer is God doesn’t think like us. At first, though I was afraid to broach the subject of death, when I did, Sande was strong in her responses about it. The family began to see me as this great guy, coming over to see Sande, but I didn’t feel like a great guy. I began to love our visits together, nonetheless, and we became pretty close. When I started out, my vision was for Sande alone. Then I began to realize that God was calling me to be present with her family too. I would get very uncomfortable when they would greet me at the front door, coming from mass with communion. They looked at me like I was some kind of great man, when I knew in my heart who I really was. Then I was reading something by Henri Nowen, and I realized what was happening… they were seeing Jesus in me. I was shocked and amazed at this as I didn’t know he was in there with me in that blatent way. I was just doing what I felt I needed to both for the family, Sande, as well as myself. I loved going over there (still do). All I did was give an inch to the Lord... just a little bit of my time a couple days a week. And he gave all of us all a mile. This is the key to Haiti. Our small gift becomes a double windfall in terms of its impact on the Haitian people as well as ourselves. When the average worker makes about $180 per year, and someone in the U.S. adopts one of the kids in the Boucan-Carre Secondary School for $200… you get the picture. Anyway, Sande’s great gift to me is that she taught me that I didn’t have to have any answers for her and that the dying and suffering minister to us, not the other way around. Sande taught me more in a few months than I learned in all of my pastoral care classes in seminary, and they were great. At then end of the day, we must learn to better sacrifice for others and give the Lord Jesus and inch every day, so that we can run miles for Him and better celebrate the lives we live. So between St. Augustine, St. Peter and St. Paul, and my fortune cookie, it was a great day. God Bless you all on this beautiful night, somewhere in Alberta… Patrick J

Day 6: Culbertson, MT to Brooks, Alberta, CAN 574 miles

2007-06-21T21:56:00.000-04:00

Woke up early as usual and got right on the road. US 2 runs pretty straight for miles and miles in the Northern part of the state. The roadsides are covered with little white steel crosses welded to fence posts. Each one represents a highway death on that spot. The do the same thing in Germany and it’s sobering to see them all. I lost count at 107 when I came upon three steel fence posts with about seven white crosses on it. I can’t imagine how they all died. I covered about 225 miles on 2 before turning north and there was one area where I saw over twenty crosses in just a four-mile stretch. It was an Indian Reservation and they were all about a mile from the center of the bars and casinos. It made me sad to think about alcoholism and how it affects the native Indian population. There is so much work to be done. “The harvest is plenty but the workers are few…”
I turned north on Montana state hwy 262 and headed towards the Canadian border. It was just 43 miles and I had three out of ten bars on my fuel gauge. But it would prove not to be enough. I rode on and on and I saw fewer and fewer houses and no businesses at all. I figured there would be a gas station at the border crossing but when I arrived there and asked, I was told it was 50 miles in any direction to get fuel. They had none.
So, I was starting to sweat it a little and then I remembered seeing a ranch about five miles back on the Montana side. I rode back there with the yellow light glaring at me and found the land-owner just leaving for his farm. He said he had fuel there and just to follow him. I had no trouble keeping up with his pickup until he swerved onto a gravel road and I had to slow down. I just kept my eye on his dust ahead. I eventually found him after 10 miles on that road. His son laughed and said people stop them about once a month in the same boat. I pulled up to a vertical tank about 15’ tall and filled it up. I gave them double in cash what I would have paid and my sincere thanks. It’s awesome to find people like that randomly.
Once I passed the ten question tests about weapons, drugs, tree bark, seeds, and alcohol, the border guard let me into Alberta Canada. At first, it was a vast blue sky with high white clouds and flat terrain. After about 50 miles, the road suddenly dropped into a deep valley filled with trees and curved every which way. I felt like the star of a motorcycling ad on TV. Perfect light, all by myself, leaning into long sweepers where I could always see the end, and no other traffic… It’s what we all that ride know heaven is like. This went on for about 45 miles and then the road leveled off again and shot due north. I turned west onto Canada Hwy. 1 and set the cruise. It was really hot today. I mean, really hot.
Today my prayer was centered on cancer folks. I prayed for Grandma Sophie, Gilda, Tom Cronan, Sande Berger, and a bunch of other people that I’ve run into. Cancer is a mean little devil but often seems to have a wonderful effect on those afflicted. They seem to be able to prioritize better and treat others with more care once diagnosed. Our own can seem death seems tentative and distant, but to those who suffer from cancer, they seem to receive added grace to let them see the real deal of the spiritual realm. Tom Cronan was a great guy. He hiked the Appalachian Trail and then found out he had pancreatic cancer. He survived it well and road a Harley across the country to benefit the Wellness Centers. He died a short time ago and those that knew him really felt the loss of a good Christian brother who walked the walk. I dedicated today’s ride to him. Tom loved his wife Joan, his two girls, and his grandkids. He loved the outdoors and loved his old Gold Wing. I never knew Tom well but you didn’t need to be around him much to sense that Jesus was alive in his heart. When he asked you how you were, he meant it. When he laughed it meant the joke was really funny. And when he died many people felt a big loss. Tom was a committed Baptist and loved the Lord with all his heart. He took the scriptures seriously and was a man in earnest in all that he did and said. We should all be more like Tom, myself included. I ask God today to help those with cancer be at peace with their illness but more importantly with those they love. I ask for God to be with those who minister to those with cancer through medical care as well as spiritual. I ask God to watch over the families that are caring for someone that is dying, and I ask God to make His presence known to the surviving members of the families in which a death from cancer has already taken place. Last, I ask God to help the kids who either suffer from cancer themselves or have lost a grandparent or parent, brother or sister to the disease.
I ask all these things in the name the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Tomorrow I ride for Sande Berger and will pray for the right words to use tomorrow night. It will take me all day riding to try to think of how to put into words the effect that she had and continues to have on my life and ministry. Until then, good night!

photo reportage of Culbertson, Montana.... enjoy!

2007-06-20T23:31:00.001-04:00

http://pmrphoto.com/culbertson/
copy and past this in your browser window....

2007-06-20T19:51:00.000-04:00

http://pmrphoto.com/pmronbike

2007-06-20T19:43:00.001-04:00

/Users/patrickmurphy-racey/Desktop/AK trip photos/pmronbike.jpg

Day 5: Bemidji, MN to Culbertson MT. 561 miles.

2007-06-20T19:37:00.000-04:00

The nice thing about being over forty is that you really don’t need an alarm clock anymore. The amount of water you drink in the hours before you go to sleep dictates how early you wake up. I was wide awake in my tent this morning at 5:45am. I got everything stowed and put back on the bike by 6:15am and since breakfast wasn’t served until 8am, I just took off. In terms of miles, today was a very good day. I actually rode right through another time zone; I’m now on Mountain Time. Realizing that I’ve driven so far as to have a two-hour time difference from home got me thinking about how far I will be in a few days. Many people don’t realize it, but Alaska is one time zone further west than Pacific time, which is crazy!
I rode into Great Falls, MN and saw both the river at flood stage, and unfortunately, people coming out of the only early mass within 100 miles. I had missed it by 30 min. They don’t call Minnesota the land of 10,000 lakes for nothing. There is water everywhere. It was nice and cool out this morning so I was able to bundle up with the warmer weather gear and was comfortable even at high speeds. I set a goal of not wanting to eat breakfast until I got into North Dakota and two hours later, I had a great meal. There was much less wind today as in days past, which made riding a lot easier and more comfortable. It was a perfect day for riding a motorcycle. There were virtually no clouds in the sky and very little traffic. I guess I need to quality that… Very little traffic means that you see an oncoming car or truck about every five to ten minutes. I had the road to myself.
US Hwy 2 in almost all of North Dakota is a four lane divided highway. It was a delight to travel on because it was smooth, and has a nice long sweeper turn every 50 miles or so.
Today I had fun improvising on the Hail Mary prayer. I ended up saying that prayer once for each person in my entire family. It was a cool way to do it though it took longer than a normal rosary. I would just ride along and see their face in my imagination and each person would almost always laugh before I was finished.
The first antiphon from morning prayer today was something I also thought about all day long: “Give joy to your servant, Lord, to you I lift up my heart.” When I’m out there in the wind with the noise of the engine in my ears, I am filled with joy. It’s easy to lift up my heart when I’m on the bike. I think sometimes of Jonathan Livingston Seagull, who just wanted to fly higher and faster all the time. I understand his need to push, though I keep it to 5 above the speed limit most of the time. Then there is evening prayer tonight, which is a tough read for me because I just finished dinner about forty minutes ago…
“Where want and famine still abound, Let your relieving love be found. And in your name may we supply, Your hungry children when they cry.” (Psalm 127) AAAAAARRRRGHH!!! They are all so hungry over there in Haiti. It hurts me to think of them with their bulging bellies filled not with food but with fluid. Most of the little kids have red hair rather than black as it’s a sign of malnourishment. One of the high priorities after we collect enough money from donors to pay for the teachers’ salaries, we then need to look into books, computers, and a feeding program so the students in the school will get at least one meal every day. While some of us on the Haiti Mission board dream of a new building for the high school, we have many other needs to address first so please (sorry, this is my day 5 appeal coming) be generous. If you don’t have any cash to give, then please forward this blog site onto someone else that might. Thanks for considering my request, patrick

Day 3: 411 miles – Tomahawk WI to Bemidji, MN

2007-06-19T22:43:00.000-04:00

This morning was crisp and cool after the rains on Day 2. I woke at 6am, did my morning prayer, and packed up the bike. I rode north, towards Ashland and it seemed as if the trees were standing up to greet me. Every time I visit the North woods, I forget how big and tall the trees are! The sky was grey and filled with blues and greens and purples; it would have been a watercolor artist’s nightmare to try to capture accurately. As the sun rose, I got closer and closer to Ashland and I recalled memories of my Dad’s stories of the place, and of our infrequent trips there when I was a kid. It’s a wild place where the wind is always blowing off of Lake Superior. Even a 75 or 80 degree day requires a jacket to break the wind. I ate breakfast at the Golden Glow café on main Street. It’s a fixture in Ashland and I always go there with my Dad when we’re there. They’ve got some long O’s up there, “let me tell ya.” They asked where I was from and when I told them Tennessee, they nodded their heads and smiled. “So you’re from down below then?” Now it was my turn to nod politely… I found St. Agnes Cemetery without any problem and set about by working a grid system to find my grandparents’ grave. About my third circuit, I found it. I stopped there and visited a while, and then I prayed a prayer of thanksgiving for my life so far and I told my Grandma Racey that I missed her. We love our dead, we Catholics, and I make no apologies for it. Their continued presence in our lives after their earthly death serves only to enrich us. They see things from a different perspective and are therefore in a unique position to pray for us. There is a sweet sadness when I dwell on losing all of my grandparents, and yet the challenge comes from deep within our faith tradition to risk faith and ask them to pray for us. I left the cemetery feeling satisfied and full, rather than sad and empty. I stopped twice to try to find mass in little towns along the way. The first church only has Saturday night mass (pray for priestly vocations) and the second one has mass every day at 9:30, so I stopped only to find out the priest was presiding at a funeral. So I made my morning prayer last all day!
the wind was unbelievable today, sometimes blowing me right out of the lane on the road. the big logging trucks are like wind bombs that go off with a deafening roar when they go by the opposite direction hauling heavy. Still, the bike is heavy and has good feet. I followed four guys from new York State riding Bmer's today for about 100 miles. They are also heading for AK so I wonder if I'll see them again. Some guy named Art with two young German guys are making the trip together. Art is riding a Suzuki with a cool sidecar that he said is full of tires for the two Bmers when they get closer to AK.
As I got up to around 250 miles today, I started to experience a very uncomfortable itching on my scalp. Wearing a helmet for 8 hours a day can’t be good for me… Anyway, it got really bad so I did what any independent bad-to-the-bone, BMW ridin’, Alaska Explorin’ dude does in that situation… I called my wife Ellie and asked her what to do. Then I set the GPS unit to search for Walmart to shop for new hair products. If you’ve never been in the hair care aisles of a Super Walmart, you’re really haven’t lived yet. So now I’ve got goo on my head that I’m hoping will improve my comfort level tomorrow. I didn’t realize how far I‘d gotten today until I checked the map in the KOA campground where I’ve pitched my tent for the first time. I rode almost 2/3rds across the sate of MN today, so I’m feeling better about logging only 411 miles. I will try to make it deep into North Dakota tomorrow and try to figure out when I’m going to turn North again into Canada. Today I spent a lot of time praying for my family in Chicago, AZ, and WI. I also thought a lot about Haiti today as I usually do. They need help in that high school so if you’re reading this, consider it a direct request from heaven to dig deep!
It’s getting dark outside so I’ll have to cut this short. Once the sun goes down in Minnesota, all the state birds have a meeting and divvy up which people to draw blood from. God Bless us all, every one… and may the Lord help me to make it into my tent without losing more than a pint…

Day 2: Chicago to Tomahawk, WI - 441 miles

2007-06-19T22:42:00.000-04:00

Day 2: Chicago to Tomahawk, WI - 441 miles
Mass this morning was especially good. I drove over to Christ the King parish where Ellie and I got married seventeen years ago. They are fantastic memories but lack Sophie and Patrick, which seems odd. It’s as if they were always our kids, and I guess that’s how it should be. The gospel today had one line in it that floored me. Mathew writes, “if someone presses you into service for one mile, then go with them for two..” This really speaks to me for my/our involvement in Haiti. We know we should help, but how much? We should help in terms of how we think we should respond, and then go another whole mile. As my old fat butt got more and more sore today, I kept thinking of that verse and kept going. When I left the old neighborhood on Chicago’s Southwest side, rather than getting on I-294 like I always do to go to Milwaukee, I instead took side streets downtown. I rode through my own Irish Catholic area, then into a predominantly African-American part of town, then into a Latino section, through Chinatown, and then finally into the Loop where the collision of humanity is such that you can no longer typecast an area by ethnicity. What an awesome city Chicago is in the summertime and on a motorcycle!!! It was a perfect morning for a ride up Lake Shore Drive and past Millenium Park, When you ride a bike, more of the senses are activated. I rode past a young Latino girl scrubbing the sidewalk in front of a Mexican restaurant and I could smell the strong cleaner as I went by. I smelled meat cooking through Chinatown, and mulch as it drove by me in a truck up in Winetka. I passed by a lovely tree filled with white flowers on Waukeegan that smelled beautiful and then I smelled my way through acres of manure, spread on the millions of acres of farmland that is Wisconsin, and let a root beer float tickle my nose in Saukville where I visited my friend Jeff on his new mini-farm.

I ran into a lot of rain and a big storm today North of Milwaukee. I ended up getting drenched before I could change into my rain stuff and rode about 40 miles soaked to the skin. I finally found a small campground and asked them if they’d let me pay them to use their bathhouse to change. They wouldn’t take my money so I must have looked pretty bedraggled. I poured about a pint of water out of my left boot once I finally got it off. Once I got the proper gear on, I rode from Stevens Point up to Tomahawk where I chose to get a cheap motel tonight. $38 ain’t bad… Color TV, sheets and towels… it will seem like the Ritz by the time I’m through with this trip.

The last words of Fr.’s homily this morning at the early mass were, “Make today a delight.” I took his advice. I sucked the marrow out of Chicago’s downtown, cruised along the lake for an hour, spent time with one of my best friends, and got wet. I delighted in every moment of today. Tomorrow I will visit the small town on Lake Superior where my Father grew up, went to St. Anthony De Padua High School school, played the trombone, learned to love cars, to drink, and where he buried his father. I will visit the graves of my Grandpa “Chuck” and my Grandmother Isabel from where Sophie’s middle name comes from.

Day 1: 560 miles, Father's Day with my Dad in Chicago

2007-06-17T21:51:00.000-04:00

Today was a great day. After mass at 7:30am, I left Knoxville after receiving a blessing for missionaries next to Jordan Pyda (my friend and hero) from Fr. Al Humbrecht at Sacred Heart Cathedral. After mass, I walked outside the church to find my friend and fellow Deacon Ben and his wife Mary Jo. Mary Jo had been hitting up people that had been to mass and had already collected a couple hundred dollars by basically standing between them and their cars. All kidding aside, I am continually amazed at the generosity of the parish there. They seem to understand that their money has real impact on our brothers and sisters in Haiti. They continually open both their hearts and their pocketbooks when we ask for help. I stopped for lunch today at a White Castle in Kentucky. For you Krystal people out there, they are the "real" slider and taste like my boyhood home in Chicago. As I sat in the AC and tried to cool off (it was pusihing 96 degrees today), I looked across the parking lot and saw a poster in the window of the Taco Bell next door advertising the "4th meal." It was tough for me as I was stuffing my own face with food that no Haitian would ever eat in one sitting... I began to reflect on how much our two countries really need each other. We don't need a fourth meal, instead we could use two rather than three. We are obese in the USA and they are starving in Haiti. Surely I'm not the only one that sees the total logic of the need for our communal relationship.
I got to confer the sacrament of baptism for the first time yesterday with my friend Pete Owns's little girl "Beckah." It was awesome to actually touch the oil of chrism and then annoint her. She did great when I poured the water over her head in the oldest church in Knoxville at Imaculate Conception. I thought the whole time... "this is so weird that I am doing this!" But I am a Deacon = 8 days, as Fr. Al pointed out this morning. There is a substantial good feeling deep within me that is allowing my own path of self discovery and sense of mission to flourish. We've been taught all this time, "a Deacon is not what you do but who you are." Christ was the actor in providing grace on Beckah and her family yesterday but I had a front row seat and I definitely got some on me as well. As I rode due North today from Knoxville to Chicago, I prayed for people that others asked me to, I prayed the rosary for the students, teachers, and staff of Knoxville Catholic High School, and I really prayed all day in thanksgiving for this opportunity to find Jesus between the orange and white stripes. I am filled with excitement about what adventures await me and pray with confident expectation that God will indeed bless me as I conciously try to self discover his will for my life as an ordained Permanent Deacon. May God Bless us all in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen and goodnight...

2007-06-13T14:26:00.000-04:00

12K miles to AK on two wheels... What am I thinking????

2007-05-22T08:06:00.000-04:00

Ever since I turned 18, I've been riding motorcycles. At first they were borrowed bikes and then they were inexpensive used bikes, all of which I loved riding. About two years ago, my friend Dan Hosford who was also ordained last Saturday, turned me on to BMW bikes. I'd always dreamed of one day owning and riding one and I stumbled into a great deal on one. Dan and I did the major 50K service in my garage in the winter of 2005 and ever since that Spring, I've been hooked.

For years, I've always yearned to see the entire United States of America. I have been to all 48 contiguous states at this point and Alaska is the last one I've never been to. This summer, I plan to ride my BMW to Prudhoe Bay, Alaska. I hope to kill three birds with one stone.

Imbedded in my aim and goal to ride to Alaska is a need to somehow process the miracle of holy orders in the form of my ordination into the Permanent Diaconate. I need some time alone to really ponder the change that's taken place within me over the last five years, and to think about Bishop Kurtz's imposition of hands on my head. I plan to self direct a retreat on two wheels which will include much solitude, a lot of prayer, and thanksgiving for my family, my relationship with Jesus Christ, and celebrate the work of my life which is photography. My friend Amy Roberts from KCHS gave me a book that is a guide to St. Ignatious' Spiritual Exercises. I plan to use that book as well as the Lturgy of the Hours to guide my path spiritually as I ride.

In trying to live out my call as both a baptized Christian and an ordained Permanent Deacon, I hope to image the servant Jesus by raising money for a high school in Haiti that I've been involved with through the Sacred Heart Hope for Haiti Mission. I hope to baptize my mid-life crisis by turning a love of travel and motorcycling into something that serves the many intense needs in the poorest of all countries int he Western Hemisphere.

I plan to chronicle my journey of faith by blogging my way through 12,000 miles in about 5 weeks or so. To follow my progess, please check out this blog to track my ride for Haiti. Also, please consider e-mailing a link to the blog to anyone that might be generous to donate money to that cause. Any and all donations I receive will funnel money directly to our account at Sacred Heart for the specific cause of the school: St. Michel l'Ecole de Secondaire.

When you meet the people of Haiti (A'yiti), they appear so helpless. Starvation and malnourishment are so common and obvious in the Central Plateau, that meeting a person who is healthy is a rarity. But when you ask them how you can help, they rarely ask for money, they ask instead for prayer. After that, they ask for education. Education to the Haitian people is their only way out of the endless cycle of poverty the entire country is involved in. The whole of the country is a prime example of economic injustice. The Haitians believe as I do that raising the level of health in terms of water projects and health care, and eductaion are the keys to getting Haiti on its feet for the first time. It's also the easiest way to share the gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ, by using our hands and feet.

Milwaukee Catholic Herald Article Out Today

2007-05-18T15:22:00.000-04:00

http://www.chnonline.org/2007/2007-05-17/newsstory1.html

The above link will take you to the Milwaukee Catholic Herald's Newspaper website which did an article on my planned trip to Prudho Bay, alaska in a few weeks. Right now, it looks like I'll be heading out sometime during the second week of June, maybe a week or so after my ordination to the Permanent Diaconate. The sister of a guy named Dick Geldreich has already volunteered her brother to ride me from MKE to the MN border. Sounds like fun, Dick! Not sure if a Helix will keep up though man... did you really ride the Four Corners on a 250cc scooter????? Must have gotten some awesome fuel economy.

In other news, I bought a new windshield today and a cruise control for the bike so my right hand won't get fatigued. After my butt gets numb, it's my right hand that gives me pain sometimes...

Welcome to the RideforHaiti blog!!!!

2007-05-15T00:26:00.000-04:00

I plan to explain in greater detail what I'll be doing this summer.... Like getting ordained to the Permanent Diaconate, and then riding to Alaska on my BMW to raise money to build a high school in Boucan-Carre, Haiti. I welcome sponsors for my ride as 100% of anything you give will find its way to the L'ecole de Saint Michelle Secondaire. Please be generous!!! They need your help.

One of the ways people that get around on two wheels with bugs in their teeth say Hi is through a simple wave on the interstate. I'm hoping I can provide you with more than a wave at Haiti. Please consider getting to know more about the country, it's 200 year long fight for true economic freedom, and become part of the solution for it's 8 million people.