Week of September 22nd to 28th, 2000
Now, where did we leave Jean last week? Oh yes! Keith had helped Jean a lot... I began receiving e-mails from people from West Virginia, Pennsylvania, South Carolina offering accommodation for Jean should he go through where they live... I was wondering what was happening! One of these nice people wrote this:
"Date: Sun, 24 Sep 2000 09:09:24 -0400
Yesterday I received an e-mail from Keith Shuey. I don't know if Jean or
you have any idea the impact his walk is having. Keith emailed not just me but
a network of cyclist from Pennsylvania to West Virginia all the way down the
east coast to South Carolina. We'll be looking for him. I'll get the word out
to look for our friend Jean.
Chris
Poquoson, Va, USA 23662"
I was wondering what Keith had written to have such an impact. Then he sent it to me:
"Every now and then, something unforgettable happens to me as a result of
simply riding my bike.
Late Thursday afternoon, around 4:30pm, I rolled out of the house to ride
what would probably be the final Gateway ride of the season. I arranged to
meet Larry Dieren there to pick something up, so I didn't want to be late.
I rode south on Rolling Road, through Relay, and down to the Avalon
entrance of Patapsco State Park. I decided to cut through the park so I
could use the mens room.
As I approached the little Park kiosk, just before the Thomas Viaduct, I
noticed a person standing on the left side of the one-way lane. It was a
man with what appeared to be a sport-baby carriage--the kind built for
speed. As I came closer, he began to flag me down--probably needed
directions? I unwillingly came to a stop.
Now that I could see him up close, I noticed several things. He appeared
to be about 40 years old, with darkly European good looks, very tan, very
fit, wearing state-of-the-art running clothes and shoes--all New Balance
stuff, I think. The carriage he was pushing was not carrying any
babies--it looked as though it was packed with camping and survival gear.
He had an engaging smile, and started speaking to me in French. When it
was obvious to him that my French was not what it should be, he started
speaking in very broken English--"do you know how long is this road? Does
it go to a park?" I assured him that, yes, it did indeed go to a very nice
park--about a kilometer from here, more or less. Are you on holiday?
Where is your automobile?
He replied sort of like "Holiday? Mmm..non..although I am having a
wonderful time. I am from Montreal, Canada--no automobile--I walked here
from Montreal"-- whereupon he demonstrated a little two-step move to
emphasize that I was hearing him right, no translation problems. "What?" I
replied, disbelievingly. How in the hell....Then he told me he had started
walking about 4 weeks ago, had spent the night at someone's home in
Lutherville, MD, and had walked here, to this very spot, today. Tomorrow
he would walk south on Rt. 1 to Laurel, and from there to D.C. His name is
Jean and he was looking for a place to camp tonight. Would this park be
suitable for camping? Would he be all right here?
There were no Park Rangers in sight. I told him the park was full of
campsites, it would be best to get permission, maybe pay first, these
Rangers could be mean sometimes, but if I were in his shoes, I wouldn't let
that stop me. Chances are he would never be detected, what with the budget
the MD Park System is on. Jean appeared to catch my drift, and produced a
small black book along with a world map. He showed me his route so far,
and his intended route--it went clear down to South America and
beyond--around the world, in fact! In the black book he showed me hand
written messages of goodwill he had picked up along the way, prefaced by a
handsomely produced letter of introduction from the Mayor of Montreal. The
letter, in French and English, stated that
Jean was on a mission: to walk around the world to promote World Peace. It
said his journey was expected to take him 8 to 10 years to complete --would
you please be kind to Jean?
Whoa! Jean then produced, from the same book, photographs of his
family--mother, wife, two children. He was smiling proudly, almost
wistfully. He then asked if I had a computer at home--did I have access to
the Internet? In that case, would I please e-mail his wife and tell her I
spoke with him today, that he was fine, that he loved her, and that he
missed her? "Sure, I can do that", I replied magnanimously--"what is her
e-mail address? Is that all you need? If you want, you could overnight in
my house, if you meet me back here in two hours after my ride"...."Non,
non, you have been more than kind, and very helpful. I will be fine here,
merci, merci..." He wrote the e-mail address, along with a Website address.
I told him I could take him to a motel if he preferred, but Jean would
have none of it. Not in the budget.
By now, I badly needed to pee, and daylight would be slipping away soon.
Jean gave me the information, thanked me profusely, and bestowed his
charismatic grin on me one more time . "Go ride! Allez! Allez! Merci!
Merci!" I grudgingly left him there, with a strong feeling that I was
missing a great opportunity to better know a truly wonderful human being.
Jean positively radiated warmth and kindness--the real McCoy, a walking
piece of history, a testimony to the Human Spirit. I will look for him
when I come back.
I came back from Gateway at exactly 7:00pm. I rolled all through the park
looking for Jean. I spoke to several cyclists and hikers, some of whom
said that yes, they had seen some guy with a tri-wheeled carriage, he was
here about a half an hour ago--no idea where he is now though. It was
getting dark fast, and chilly too. I thought of him looking through the
woods for a campsite--how lonely it must be. I thought of that engaging
smile, the ridiculously noble, quixotic mission he was on. I wanted to be
a part of it. I shouted his name into the twilight, across the river, into
the woods....nothing, not even an echo. My opportunity to play host to a
perfect stranger had slipped away, into the woods. It was now dark in the
valley--better go home to my warm house. Send an e-mail to his wife
Luce--let her know that I encountered the great Jean Beliveau, and had let
him slip through my fingers. I should have taken him out to dinner, should
have reveled in the opportunity to experience the extraordinary, the
marvelous, should have given him a spot on the couch--no, I sent him into
the woods. But the opportunity and the short experience I did have would
never have happened had I not been out on my bike. Maybe next time...
Jean Beliveau's Website is:
Keep an eye out for him.
Keith"
No wonder... Keith, you have to be a novelist!
So, the 21st and 22nd, Jean slept in the woods, in his tent. He wrote his diary and thought about his family. It is normal to feel down sometimes, even in the comfort and warmth of your own home...
September 23rd and 24th He was invited at the house of a long time friend working in Washington DC. How nice to talk about the good old time... over a glass of wine...
On the 25th Jean walked for about 2 hours and arrived at Simon Dixon's home, still in Washington. He took the time to go to the Canadian Embassy, The House of Quebec and he even had a photo taken in front of the White House. Simon was so nice to him as to arrange accommodations on the way to and in Richmond, VA.
The 26th, tent night in Fort Belvoir, Woodbridge, the 27th, at Fred Sweat's house in Staford, the 28th, in an abandoned house in Golansville (fortunately there were no ghosts).
Till next week...
Luce J