Don’t you ever get lonely?

As I answer the question about loneliness on the road, a twinge of emotion grips my chest. It's true—there are times when I feel lonely out on the road. But it's a bittersweet feeling, one that I've learned to accept and even cherish.

Walking alone on this journey for clean water is not without its challenges. But being alone has also offered opportunities to grow as a human being. The road has been my teacher, offering lessons in perseverance, resilience, and self-discovery. Through every step, I've learned to confront my fears and push beyond my limits. Even in the face of daunting challenges, I've been able to find the strength to persevere. I'm discovering that I'm much stronger than I ever thought I could be.

I often think about the ripples of my actions and how they might impact others. Even if I never know for sure whether my actions have made a difference, I can take comfort in the fact that I did everything in my power to try.

Despite the peace and tranquility of solitude, human connection is still something we all crave deep down. But even in those moments of loneliness, I know that I'm experiencing the world in a way that few others ever will. Walking allows me to take in every sight, smell, and sound of my environment. I'm able to fully immerse myself in the world around me and appreciate every detail and nuance that makes it so special.

There's something about being alone on the open road that brings a sense of clarity and peace to my mind. Walking has become my meditation, my way of connecting with something larger than myself. It's a reminder that we're all just tiny specks in this vast universe, yet still capable of experiencing its beauty and wonder.

So yes, there are times when I feel lonely out here. But those moments are outweighed by the profound sense of connection and wonder that I experience every day on the road. And in the end, I know that I wouldn't want it any other way.

A Walk in the Woods

As I walked through the pine and cork trees, I noticed a set of animal prints on the trail ahead. My curiosity got the best of me, and I followed them until they abruptly ended at a puddle of water, left behind from a recent rainfall. I paused, studying the prints and contemplating the creatures that left them behind. But as I stepped closer to the puddle, I was reminded of the stark reality facing millions of women and girls in Sub-Saharan Africa.

I kneeled beside the murky water, watching an insect dance across its surface. In that moment, I couldn't help but think of the women and children who must travel several miles every day to collect similar water for their families. Water that is contaminated with diseases such as cholera, typhoid, and dysentery. Water that can be deadly to those who drink it.

The thought of it was overwhelming. How could so many people lack access to safe drinking water in this day and age? How could the United Nations recognize water and sanitation as a human right in 2010, yet millions still suffer from the lack of access to clean water?

As I stood there, gazing at the puddle, I couldn't help but feel grateful for the clean water that flows from my tap back home. The privilege of safe water was something that I had always taken for granted, but now I saw it as a luxury that millions of people could only dream of.

The statistics were staggering. 315,000 children in Africa die each year from diseases caused by unsafe water. Millions more suffer from illness and disease, all because they lack access to clean water. It was a harsh reminder of the disparities that exist in our world, and the work that still needs to be done to ensure that everyone has access to the basic necessities of life.

Merry Christmas

Dionne Haroutunian

I was exploring the enchanting blue city of Chefchaouen, Morocco, when, by fortuitous circumstance or fate, I met two remarkable individuals, Dionne Haroutunian and Mike Cooks.

Dionne, a gifted artist and enthusiastic motorcyclist from Seattle, Washington, is on a mission to foster world peace through personal connections. Her unique approach involves traveling the world on her motorcycle, forming lasting bonds with people from diverse cultures, and creating a "human blanket" of friendship that transcends borders. Accompanying Dionne is Mike, an intrepid adventurer, photographer, and fellow motorcyclist who is documenting her inspiring journey.

We spent countless hours discussing our individual missions, sharing personal stories of triumphs and challenges, laughter and tears, and an unforgettable adventure that took us to a remote Berber village (stay tuned for more on that).

To underestimate Dionne with her pink hair and vibrant spirit would be foolish. Her unwavering commitment to making the world a better place, one friendship at a time is truly commendable.

If you're interested in learning more about Dionne and her mission, I highly recommend visiting her website, 4artandadventure.com.

World Toilet Day

A group of awesome individuals in Killyleagh, Northern Ireland, squatting to raise awareness about the dire issue of open defecation, which affects over one billion people worldwide. We would like to express our gratitude to Gawn and his family for generously allowing us to use their home as a backdrop for our photo campaign.

We call it by many names: the loo, the porcelain throne, the john, the crapper, and the turd tube. The toilet doesn’t get the respect it deserves. We take it for granted, yet according to Water.org, "No other invention has saved more lives than a toilet."

The United Nations observes November 19th as "World Toilet Day" to highlight the 2.5 billion people in the world that don’t have access to a toilet.

Poo is a crappy subject, and while everyone does it, no one wants to talk about it. "This lack of access is a ‘silent crisis’ that has claimed more casualties through illness than any conflict." (United Nations, 2015)

Sanitation is a human right.

Yet, 893 million people practice open defecation, which is emptying the bowels outside in fields, forests, bushes, and bodies of water rather than into a toilet.

The practice poses serious risks to human health and the environment.

It contaminates water sources and spreads diseases, including cholera, typhoid, hepatitis, and diarrhea.

Every 20 seconds, a child dies from diseases caused by fecal contamination.

And not having a toilet at home is dangerous for women since each time a woman uses the outdoors to relieve herself, she is vulnerable to physical or sexual assault.

Providing everyone with access to a toilet saves lives, promotes dignity, and protects the environment. Let's work together to make access to toilets a reality for all.

I will end with this slogan from the World Toilet Organization:

I give a shit, do you?

Thank you

Inspiration, Connection, and Kindness.

In the ancient town of Cashel, my writing muse finally made an appearance. As I gazed upon the majestic castle, the ruined abbey, and the lush, green hills, I felt the words come to me effortlessly. My memoir had been a slow and arduous journey, but in this idyllic setting, the words flowed like a river. For several days, I hunkered down in my tent, scribbling away until my hunger, thirst, and the call of the open road forced me to pack up and leave. But my travels through Ireland had more surprises in store for me. In the quaint village of Ballylooby, I stumbled upon the charming Kilcoran Lodge Hotel. There, I met Christine, an Irish-American woman from New York who had come to Ireland to visit her family and care for their ancestral home. We hit it off instantly, and our lively conversation lasted long past midnight. After several days of relative solitude, I savored every moment of our encounter.

As I continued my journey towards Mitchelstown the next morning, I felt a sense of anticipation building inside me. Little did I know that my new friend Bernie had contacted the local radio station, Tipp FM, about my travels. As I entered the village, I was greeted by the friendly producer, Ben Sweeney, who walked with me for a mile while pulling my cart. The two of us chatted about my adventures, and I felt my spirits lift with each step. Soon, we were joined by two garda officers, John and Morris, who added to the jovial atmosphere. We took a few photos and wrapped up the interview, but the warmth and camaraderie stayed with me long after we parted ways.

These moments of inspiration, connection, and kindness make my journey through Ireland a truly unforgettable experience.

Reflections on the Road

Rock of Cashel

As I arrived in Cashel, the City of Kings, I couldn't help but reflect on the road that led me here. The miles I've traveled have become easier with each passing day, but my journey has been more than just a physical one.

It has challenged me to look within myself and confront my fears and weaknesses. The road has molded and shaped me to survive, and at times, I feel like a stranger to myself. But despite the personal sacrifices I've made, I know in my heart that I'm exactly where I belong.

As I look back on my journey, I'm filled with gratitude for the people I've met, the lessons I've learned, and the beauty of the world that surrounds me.

The Kindness of Strangers

I love Irish hospitality. I find the Irish to be welcoming and supportive of my cause. Many people will stop their cars to chat or honk their horns in support.

When I arrived in Athy, I met two women, a mother and her daughter. They noticed me walking down to the river for a photo and stopped me. After a bit of conversation, they invited me to their home for dinner that evening. Over a nice meal of trout, beets, vegetables, potatoes, and the best homemade apple tart I have ever tasted, I learned Kate co-produced a documentary named Naledi, which had been nominated for Outstanding Nature Documentary at The News and Documentary Emmy Awards. The film is on Netflix, so if you get a chance, check it out.

The next day, on my way to The Swan, I found the hills to be a challenge, especially an area known as Wolfhill. I was ready to ditch my heavy trolley, Magellan, as I made my way up the aptly named hill. Moments later, I was rewarded for my efforts, when a woman named Carmel and her mother, Anne, invited me into their home for tea and a sandwich. Carmel’s mother had seen me on the road earlier that day. It was a welcome break. I didn’t stay long, as it was getting late and I needed to find a place to pitch my tent for the night. Someone had suggested I inquire about a room at the pub in town, which I did. When I walked in, George, the owner, was sitting at the bar reading a newspaper. I asked him if he had lodging, but he was hesitant because he no longer operates as an inn. However, a moment later, he reached behind the bar, grabbed a set of keys, and led me to a room near the back of the pub. He brought me fresh towels and told me to let him know if I needed anything else. That evening I dined at the restaurant and then returned to my room for a good night's sleep.

The following day, when I tried to pay George for the room, he refused. After breakfast and a few photos, I said goodbye and thanked him for his generosity. I departed and made my way to Durrow via Abbeyleix.

After a long and rewarding journey through the Irish countryside, I arrived at my accommodation in Durrow. The warm welcome and thoughtful gestures of the hosts, including a soothing foot soak, were a perfect ending to a day filled with breathtaking scenery and unforgettable encounters with the welcoming people of Ireland.