We left Bland after a full day of no hiking a zero day. It seemed a little tough getting back into the swing of it, even after taking only one day off. Our packs were heavy after a fresh resupply, it’s been a challenge to figure out the food situation on the trail. The tendency is to carry way too much food, only to reach the next resupply with a fair amount left over. It’s demoralizing to realize you carried all that weight, all that distance, for no reason. Slowly, I’m getting better at it. Hopefully we will continue to improve, to the point that our food bags are nearly empty when we arrive to town, it’s definitely a work in progress.

The hiking in this section was tough. The mountains are drier, water sources can be as far as seven or eight miles apart at times. This forces us to pay a lot more attention to how much water we must carry to get us to the next available source. Water is about the heaviest thing we have to carry, so we try our best not to bring too much. It’s a fine balance, five to eight extra pounds of water has a huge effect on how much effort you must exert as you hike. Running out of water for long stretches is even worse. Once you fall behind on hydration, it’s hard to catch back up if you continue to hike. The terrain has become a lot more rocky, foot placement requires a lot of concentration to avoid slipping or rolling an ankle. I know of one hiker who was stepping out of a shuttle after a ride back to the trail from town. He stepped out of the van onto a loose rock and rolled his ankle so bad he had to go to the hospital. After hiking all those miles he trashed his ankle stepping out of a vehicle. The one wrong step after so very many right ones.

We spent one night at the Weary Feet Hostel located right off the trail. We fished at a couple streams we encountered along the way, catching a couple small Brook trout and bream. The big Rainbow or Brookie we’re hoping for continues to evade us. We ate sautéed Chicken of the Woods mushrooms, and we were starting to find the first ripe wild strawberries and a few blueberries along the trail. There were lots of green berries everywhere, we looked forward to the time when many more ripen.

The weather has been unseasonably warm out here, as in most other parts of the country. We decided to try night hiking after the sun goes down, when temperatures get a little cooler. Night hiking is tricky, it requires constant attention to your footing, and the trail is a little harder to follow under the shine of a headlamp. You stumble a lot more at first it seems, but like anything, the more familiar you become with it, the easier it becomes. We see lots of deer at night, their eyes like glowing orbs in our headlamps. They seem less afraid at night, allowing us to pass closely as they stand and watch. We haven’t seen any bears at night yet, which is surprising to me, but we’re ever watchful. We carefully evaluate each set of glowing eyes we encounter. I’ve never really been scared of bears, but we definitely respect them and try to stay out of their way.

Night hiking presents a lot of time for reflection, the hours creep by with little talking between us, just long spans of time walking. The hours pass slowly, and the hiking pace is definitely slower. It lends itself to long stretches just spent pondering my life. I spent a long time thinking about Leslie Whitt. Excepting my own father, and my grandfather, “Les” Whitt was undoubtably the third greatest male influence in my life when I was a boy, and later in life when I became a man.

Robert Leslie “Les” Whitt came to Alexandria Louisiana in 1974 to become the curator of the Alexandria Zoo. I think he was 24 years old at that time. As a boy growing up in Alexandria, I loved, and was completely fascinated by animals of all kinds. I was especially interested in reptiles and amphibians.

Les always said, “when I came to the Alexandria Zoo all there was was a monkey on a stick, and the stick was broken.” Over the 34 years as curator, Les transformed the Alexandria Zoo into the greatest zoological attraction I have ever seen in a town the size of Alexandria, and that’s coming from a guy that has seen as many zoos as anyone. Even today I try to visit the zoos in the towns I pass through, and I have never seen another quite like the Alexandria Zoo in central Louisiana. Even today the culture of the zoo Les created still endures, long after Les’s passing back in 2008.

I first came to know Les because he was also an inactive member of the LDS church. I was enamored by Les, he was everything I wanted to be. At the time I dreamed that one day I would be a zookeeper like him. When Les came to Alexandria he was a 24 year old hippie with a vision. Alexandria Louisiana was not the most accepting town for people like Les in the seventies, an old southern agricultural town entrenched heavily in old south tradition and bias. In spite of those challenges of early acceptance, Les and his wife Lee Ann, became highly respected members of the Alexandria community. The zoo became an artistic reflection of Les’s vision, it was his masterpiece.

From the first day I met him, he immediately became my hero. My mother embraced Les and Lee Ann. She always fostered the interests of her children. For me that meant taking me to the zoo. She would often drop me off at the zoo during the summer and on Saturdays, and I would spend the days “helping” Les with whatever project he was working on. Les had the somewhat rare quality of being able to relate to young boys, even after he was much older. He never forgot what it was like to be a boy, as most men do when they grow up. He was always patient with me, took time to teach me, always let me help him, even when it would have probably been easier to do things himself. Les was a joker, he loved to pull little pranks at every opportunity. He was truly an amazing man. Because of Les, I had many opportunities to interact with many animals on a level that few kids my age were fortunate enough to be able to do. Les taught me how to behave and handle myself around big cats, bears, monkeys, birds, and exotic reptiles from all over the world. I treasure the memories of my experiences with Les.

Another aspect of my relationship with Les was with respect to the church. Les was the only adult church member I knew that was inactive. His perspective was different. I could talk to him about my own struggles with the church without fear of judgement, he understood. His words and advice provided me comfort, I knew I could tell him anything without judgement.

As I grew up and went off to college, I saw Les a lot less often. Les introduced me to Peter Lindsey at the Monroe Zoo. Peter was the reptile curator at the zoo. I spent many hours with Peter working with reptiles. Before the time of cell phones, other than the occasional visit to the zoo when I was home, Les and I talked very little. But we had that type of relationship where we could be absent from each other’s lives for even years at a time, and when we finally did get together it was like we had never been apart.

When my mother passed away on the 1st day of March in 2003 after a short battle with pancreatic cancer, I returned to Alexandria for the funeral and burial. I felt completely lost as I left the burial service at the cemetery that rainy Wednesday.

I was headed back to Lafayette from Alexandria that afternoon, and almost without thinking about it I drove straight to the zoo. I was very emotional when I walked up to the ticket window. Lee Ann was working and when I saw her face we both started crying. She came running around the counter and gave me a hug. “Les isn’t here”, she said. “He’s at home, he’s been very depressed and he hasn’t left the house in a couple weeks. He’s so sad about your Mama.”

While cleaning out a duck pond about five years prior, Les stepped on a piece of rusty wire that pierced his rubber boot and stuck deep in his foot. He developed a strep infection which lead to rheumatic fever, destroying the valves of his heart. Les was fortunate to receive a donor heart at a time when only a cardiac transplant would save his life. As is common in cardiac transplant patients, Les struggled with bouts of clinical depression after his transplant.

Lee Ann told me to sit down. “If there’s anything that will get Les off the couch it’s you John”, she said. “Let me call him.” She went back into the office, then came back and told me he was on his way.

Les drove up and parked, he jumped out of the car and ran up and gave me a big hug that almost lifted me off the ground. He squeezed me tight then turned away and said, “lets go take a ride on the golf cart, I want to show you some stuff.” His voice was thick with emotion.

We rode around and looked at exhibits he had either improved upon or created since I had last been there. “You remember Obadiah?” He asked. The last time I had seen the white bengal tiger he was a couple year old cub. We went around to the back of the tiger enclosure and pet Obadiah through the fence. The big cat rubbed his face and neck against our hands like a giant house cat as he purred loudly. It started raining harder so we got back into the golf cart and drove over to the reptile house.

We jumped out of the golf cart and ran under the overhang in front of the reptile house to get out of the rain. Les looked at the ground and said, “you know I’ve been so depressed about your Mama.” “I couldn’t even bring myself to come to her funeral today.” He brushed away tears that were welling up in the corners of his eyes. “When we first came to Alexandria it was a little hard to fit in, but your mother took us in and treated us like we were part of your family.” “I’ve never forgotten about that.” Les looked up at me and asked, “you been going to church?” I looked down and said, “no, not really, I mean I went today, but it’s been quite a while before that since I last went.” I looked back at him and asked, “what about you?” “Have you been going?” “Nah,” he said, toeing the dirt on the floor of the overhang with his rubber boot.

“What do you think is going to happen to guys like us when we die?” I asked him. “I haven’t been able to think of much else since I left Mama’s funeral today.” Les looked out at the rain that was falling steadily all around us. “You know right before my heart transplant I was really sick.” “I was in the cardiac ICU at Ochsner in New Orleans.” “I was on hemodialysis because my kidneys were failing, my liver was in shock, my lungs were full of fluid, it was really looking bad and they moved me to the top of the transplant list.” “The doctor came in and told me that the medicines supporting my heart weren’t working anymore.” “The doctor said they needed to sedate me and put me on the ventilator to support my breathing.” “He told me if they didn’t find a donor I probably only had about four or five more days.”

“Two days later they found a heart and it was a match.” “I was so sick, my liver enzymes were so high that I was in a coma for nines days after the surgery.” Les grabbed me in his arms and hugged me close. I could feel his tears dripping from his cheeks onto the back of my neck. I felt my own eyes swirl with tears. “During those nine days, I had a spiritual experience that was so powerful that even today it panics me inside to even mention it, I can’t even talk about it really.” Les pushed me back from his embrace and looked at me with tears streaming down his face. “But what I can tell you though is this.” “Guys like you, and guys like me, we’re gonna be alright.”

That was the last time I saw Les, he died in 2008 due to complications related to his transplant. The city of Alexandria held Les’s funeral at the convention center downtown on the banks of the Red River. There were thousands of people in attendance, Les touched the lives of many people through his work at the zoo and in the community. I drove to Alexandria for his funeral, I stood watching the slide show set up in the foyer. There was picture after picture of Les with every type of animal imaginable. I was proud to be in some of those slides with him.

Les loved BB King, Les was a musician himself, he played with BB King on several occasions. Les knew his end was near before he passed away, and he left specific instructions regarding his last wishes. Les’s casket was propped up so Les could look out over the Red River flowing by the convention center. Les had on a BB King ball cap, and a BB King backstage pass around his neck. His right hand gave a thumbs up, and he had the same half grin on his face that in life, was never very far away. May he rest in peace.