by Ed Talone

I stood on a switchback and looked out over the Mojave Desert. I had come from Mexico some 150 miles on the Pacific Crest

Trail. The day before in Idyllwild, California, I had met up with Sue Lockwood and Gordon Smith. The brother and sister team were at the campground there enjoying a day off. They were acting as a support team for two Pacific Crest Trail thru-hikers who were off the trail for a spell.

While we talked Gordon casually asked if Sue could join my walk tomorrow over to the road at Cabazon. He added that she would have Mac, her guide dog, along. I said “sure,” and we agreed to meet the next day in Snow Creek Canyon.

Now I just had to find them… The road was empty, so I called Sue’s name. “I’m over here,” she

answered. “Over here” was under a large Manzanita bush with her guide dog. It turned out that Sue had been waiting for three hours! She explained that she did not know how fast I walked and did not want to miss a chance to hike. The solution was to get there at 6 a.m. and wait.

I was stunned, but I soon learned that almost nothing would stop

Sue Lockwood if there was a trail to hike. That first hike led to more as I headed north. The high desert

was perfect for a diabetic who had to keep her feet dry. Sue’s guide dog Mac was so dependable that Sue usually set the pace. The only exceptions were brushy areas where I resembled the sweeper in a curling match, clearing the trail as we went.

Weeks later along the John Muir Trail Sue defied medical advice and decided that she had to experience hiking above 10,000 feet. Over 19 miles and two passes I described as much scenery as I could. Sue blacked out twice, but both times Gordon was there to revive her. She knew this was a once in her life event, so she gave it everything.

Another goal was realized in California as Sue went backpacking for the first time in nearly two decades. Constant dialysis made this difficult. This special day went perfectly until a stumble only 100 yards from camp resulted in a broken leg. Leaving Sue in the care of my friend Rob (an EMT) I hiked out and arranged for a helicopter rescue. Sue recounted the “exciting ride” to everyone she knew.

Many people would have ended the summer there, but Sue

A Hiker Like Anyone ElseRecounting a blind woman’s cross-country hike

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covered another 150 miles on crutches, finding it safer than having me push her in a wheelchair…something about hills!

Sue used the summer of 1993 to get back in shape by covering long stretches of the Continental Divide Trail. Our next big hike was the North Country Trail in 1994. Hiking was more challenging now, as Sue faced dialysis four times daily. This was accomplished with Gordon’s help in their van while I sat quietly wearing a surgical mask. The procedures were done at midnight, dawn, lunch and dinner. Despite this, Sue covered nearly 3,000 miles over eight months.

These trips were prelude to the dream we both shared -- to walk across the entire country. We talked of it as the winds blew in North Dakota. We aimed for 1997, but Sue’s body was giving out. Gordon saved her life with a donated kidney. A second kidney came nearly a year later from an anonymous donor, as Sue reached the top of the nation’s transplant list. Once during recovery, her heart stopped. Her explanation to the surgeon was, “don’t worry, it’s happened before.”

Finally, in late 1998 the way seemed clear. To test her stamina, we covered 288 miles in 20 days across Illinois that fall. The winter was spent furiously planning the route. Our starting point was neither coast, but rather Alton, Illinois. The reason was that Sue’s doctor worried about the effect of summer heat on the transplanted kidney.

The first day as we crossed the Mississippi river at Alton, Sue had one more decision to make. Gordon, ever protective of his sister, favored covering the route over two years. He was waiting by the trail at about 4 p.m. to let her decide. She never hesitated, saying only, “we’re not done yet.” The subject never came up again.

Fully underway, we followed the KATY Trail across much of Missouri, sharing campsites used by Lewis & Clark under towering limestone bluffs. Next, steep, narrow roads took us up to Iowa and postcard towns along the Wabash Trace. We entered Nebraska via a narrow bridge thanks to a toll collector who stopped traffic. This was another world. For three days, winds as high as 70 miles an hour blasted us. At times we had to walk in the opposite direction to make any progress. More than once we were flattened.

Next up was the Cowboy Trail. For 249 lonely miles we followed a path across endless fields and later beneath the largest sand dunes I’d ever seen. At Johnstown, Nebraska, we met Otto Rosfeld who played the music of those hills on his guitar just for us. That area, Cherry County, was so empty that there was no school there until 1933. Lacking trees and materials, the school was built of sod.

At the South Dakota border, we left our country and entered the Lakota Sioux Nation. A Native Pow

Wow charmed us, but Wounded Knee made us ache. Sue was rolling now, often needing little or no insulin and feeling great. The key was no days off because everything was in balance.

Opposite page: Sue near Blue mountain Lake, cA on the PcT, just before breaking her leg. Top: Sue on the mickelson Trail. middle: Sue and Ed Talone on the north country Trail in michigan. Above: Sue and her guide dog on the Buckeye Trail in Ohio. Ed Talone & Gordon Smith.

See Sue, continued on page 6

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The Sioux loved Sue and her new guide dog, Buddy. One woman, Charlotte Two Bulls, drove 60 miles over bad roads to give us $6.75 in change for lunch. With it we enjoyed Indian Tacos in Pine Ridge.

Too soon, we left the Sioux behind and followed a spectacular trail through the Black Hills. The Mickelson Trail featured a number of long trestles and four rock tunnels. Trail’s end at Deadwood marked another milestone for Sue as she covered the marathon distance for the first time.

Wyoming was only 17 miles, but we learned about clay-like material called Bentonite that is a main ingredient in many chocolate bars. Chocolate lovers should avoid this area!

Montana welcomed us at the town of Olive, population three, and then got desolate. We were headed for Miles City and an abandoned railroad called The Milwaukee Road. It stretched some 2,200 miles from Chicago to Tacoma, Washington. We would follow it off and on for more than 1,000 miles. Here, we counted tumbleweeds, followed the enchanting Musselshell River, joined a parade in Roundup and sampled pan fried steak in Martindale, Montana in the shadow of an electric locomotive.

At this point we decided to head for eastern Washington to again avoid severe heat. Along the way, we planned to stop at Missoula for Sue’s routine medical tests. Everything was perfect…and then suddenly the hike was over.

Doctors there found an infection and told

Sue that two toes had to be amputated. She called her doctor, Dr. Khanna in Missouri, and was told to come home. She did not hang up the phone for four hours. When she did, we had a plan, and hope. We headed for Spokane, Washington, to visit a colleague of Dr. Khanna whom he trusted. There, we took our only day off in nine months. While Sue had surgery, Gordon repaired a wheelchair and I prayed. The surgery went smoothly and Sue could walk without pain, but she had to keep her foot sterile for three weeks, hence the wheelchair.

Now I walked and Sue rolled across much

of the state of Washington. Highlights included the Seattle ferry crossings and the mile-long Hood Canal Floating Bridge. Crossing this was tricky as there are no shoulders. I pushed Sue while Gordon walked in front of us to block oncoming traffic. Out near Cape Flattery, Washington, Sue dipped a bottle into the Pacific Ocean and added it to water she had collected from the Mississippi River. We celebrated the end of our westward travels with my parents in Seattle and a celebration lunch atop the Space Needle.

Sue and I were briefly separated here as she completed medical follow-ups to her surgery. At one point she left arrows on the trail to ensure that I would not be lost. We were reunited at the 2.3 mile long Snoqualmie Tunnel. Sue was walking again as we headed east to complete Washington.

Idaho was entirely along the route of the Milwaukee Road. It started in St. Maries with a crossing of an active 2,200-foot trestle, followed by an active tunnel. We entered a café there to see if it was safe to cross, as we had heard it was closed. I asked the question to one man who laughed and said, “I know it’s closed because I run that train.” Back on trail, we passed over 11 major trestles and through nine tunnels in one 17-mile stretch. We actually had to pay $7.50 each for the privilege of walking this segment. It landed us back

Above: On the plains of north Dakota; Top of page: Sue and Ed on the north country Trail in michigan. Gordon Smith & Ed Talone.

Sue, continued from page 5

“These trips were prelude to the dream we both shared -- to walk across the entire country. We talked of it as the winds blew in North Dakota. We aimed for 1997, but Sue’s body was giving out. Gordon saved her life ... and finally, in late 1998, the way seemed clear.”

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in Montana after we made an arduous climb over a pass to avoid the still unopened 1.8-mile Taft Tunnel.

We descended to Missoula in happier circumstances, and then left the Milwaukee Road Trail to cross the Continental Divide at Stemple Pass. Near Townsend, Montana, we passed 3,000 miles and left the Missouri River behind. Finally, on August 18th, we arrived back in Martindale, Montana, and the West was done. After a four day trip by van, we again crossed the Mississippi River at Alton, Illinois and headed east.

East for now meant north, up the Mississippi to Nauvoo, Illinois to connect with our hike of the previous fall. One last van ride across the state took us to Park Forest, Illinois where that hike began. Indiana was next and was highlighted by a visit from Sue’s brother Floyd and his wife Luene. Together we visited the family farm at Burnettsville and hiked together for a few

days. After a rugged segment along the undeveloped Cardinal Greenway, we entered Ohio.

Ohio featured a number of scenic riverside trails, haunting ghost towns, and our only encounter with an aspiring thief. At Chillicothe, as we slept, the side door of the van opened. A young man poked his head in. After being greeted by three hikers and a growling dog, he advised us to “keep it real” and left.

At Parkersburg, we crossed the Ohio River and entered West Virginia. We followed a series of spectacular rail trails that included 14 tunnels that predated the Civil War. At one point, a barbed wire fence closed the trail so that the EPA could remove soil poisoned by heavy metals. Vowing to eat no soil, we scaled the fence and fi nished the trail. Lest anyone think that we did this lightly, keep in mind that in remote areas, Sue did not have the option of retreat, or stopping

Above: Sue celebrates her fi rst time hiking 2,000 miles; A postcard keepsake from their cross-country thru hike. right: long before her thru-hike, Sue was featured, for her fearlessness, in the missouri medical review. Patrick Nichols; Missouri Medical Review.

early without creating real danger for herself. We had to get through, so we found a way. From here, narrow dangerous roads laden with coal trucks led us to Pennsylvania.

Trails now blazed with fall color and the nights froze hard. At Rockwood, Pennsylvania, we sat in old seats from Pittsburgh’s’ Forbes Field and celebrated reaching 4,000 miles together. Sue just said, “I’m gonna miss this.”

Quaint towns and stunning views kept us going. We arrived at Big Savage Tunnel to fi nd it fl ooded and therefore closed to us. A brutal climb up and over the mountain brought us to the Mason-Dixon Line.

After another family celebration in Cumberland, Maryland, we joined the C&O Canal. Gordon and Sue were both stunned by its beauty. “Why do you hike anywhere else?” Sue asked. Our campsites were along the Potomac River, and just perfect. All was well until a fl uke storm hit at Dargan’s Bend. Within minutes the towpath was fl ooding and we were only saved by a handicapped restroom that had a ramp. Sue waited above the fl oodwaters while I fl agged down a car. Within minutes Sue was back at the van and able to dry her feet.Th e next day, we passed through the Catoctins and all mountains were behind us.

See Sue, continued on page 8

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Th e miles fl ew by now. A few days later, we passed through Maryland University’s Cole Field House during a basketball practice. Sue, a former basketball coach herself, asked me to describe the drills and then proceeded to tell me what each accomplished. It was interesting to hear a coach’s point of view. Th at same day, two long-sought permissions came through.

First, we were escorted through the private portion of the Patuxent National Research Center. We followed old grassy country lanes and crossed a number of stone bridges here. Th e second was a very special gift to Sue from friends she never knew. For more than a year we had been trying to get permission to walk across the 4.3-mile Chesapeake Bay Bridge. Now the day was at hand.

We entered the administration building and sipped coff ee while traffi c cones were put out blocking one lane of the “old” bridge. Next we passed through a neat tunnel (our 64th of the trip) under the toll booths. Th en we were over the water! Th e people driving by were wonderful, waving, calling encouragement and honking horns. Sue

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was overcome and waved back trying to take it all in. Halfway across she asked me, “Did they do this just for me?”

“Th ey sure did,” I said. Too soon it ended, but Sue called it the highlight of the trip. It was

mine too, just to see her smile like that. Sue never sought attention, but on that day she made an exception and it was wonderful to see.

Th e end was in sight as we entered Delaware. Barren fi elds covered with frost marked our route. Seagulls appeared, along with the fi rst sand dunes since Nebraska. At the crest of a fi nal dune, we were handed balloons sent by Sue’s brother. With Gordon, my parents, brother and others watching, we made our way to the surf and touched the Atlantic.

We hugged. Sue said quietly, “We did it!” I couldn’t speak.Sue added Atlantic Ocean water to her stash from the Pacifi c and

the Mississippi, then handed me the bottle. I look at it every day. Sue Lockwood died in November 2007. Whenever she was asked

about her hiking, she always said “I’m a hiker just like anyone else.” Others wanted her to discuss obstacles and off ered the enticement

of fame, but she only saw challenges to be overcome. Th ose of us who had the honor of hiking with her never saw her fail, because she never failed to give life everything she had.

Above: Ed proudly carries Sue’s water bottle on American Hiking’s 2010 Hike on the national malll; a postcard sent to Ed when Sue reached 1,000 in 1993. Heather Sable.

Sue, continued from page 7

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