For the love of a truly good thing, I give thanks

“I always say I’ll rise, but I will refuse to shine without coffee; and the beautiful brew that was left on the tailgate for me – many times – made the difference between a gray day and a good day.” – Kid Valence

I can’t believe I haven’t written about what has come to be known as “Kathleen Café.” It has been such a vital part of our morning ritual that to be without it…well, morale would slip, tempers would flair, life on the road here would become even more unbearable. And I’m not being dramatic in the slightest here.



When the White Pearl arrived at the Grand Canyon it came equipped with all sorts of fun and hoopla. The truck itself is so busy to look at that people will literally stop mid-stride to check out all the stickers on it.



The dashboard, the stuff on top of the cab…it’s just a big ‘ol steel box of entertainment.



But a blessed variety of things it brought was a cooler, a camp stove, a pot and a holder for coffee filters.

We do get coffee made for us in the morning. But the quality and quantity and timing are all widely variable.

Lately, we’ve been getting up at four in the morning and are on the road by five. On these days we get breakfast on the road generally around 7:00 or so. Coffee is served then. That can be pretty rough when you’re used to that first cup before you want to even see anyone, let alone walk 7 miles.

I’m not a coffee drinker myself, never really have been. I like the taste of it and will have it every now and again just for the occasion of having it. But it kind of tears up my tummy and turns my nerves up to shaky.

I do like my caffeine though and I get my fix with black tea. I’m a little cranky until I have that first cup myself…just cause I drink tea doesn’t mean I like to tip a little herbal number in the morning, hell no…crank it up…just like my little java buddies.

So, back to the café.

Kathleen likes her coffee and always has really good stuff. Her and Carrie would work up a pretty potent brew in the early days of the walk and then at some point, it started getting shared with a small group of people. To the point that now there are about 6 folks that start their morning by woozing over to the back of the truck in the dark with their mugs (or looking for a borrowed mug from the collection in the red tote) and filling up.


Carrie used to share this duty, but since she’s left it’s Kathleen that starts the water boiling; measures the grounds and works the process of getting all that goodness going into individual mugs. She also keeps creamer in the cooler and knows, I’m pretty sure, who takes it and who doesn’t. Who likes sugar. I’m kinda the odd duck in the group, just needing the water…and the milk…and I do keep my tea in a box in the truck (thanks so much).

It may sound simple. But you can see the mood on people’s faces literally lighten when they look over and see that stove glowing on the ground. Rest days can be a little rough for folks when they don’t see any movement at the truck in the early a.m.

“Café’s closed,” Patrick said one rest day morning when Ammon wandered over to the parking lot, looking aimlessly at the truck.

Collectively we look in the direction of her tent. No movement. A wistful gaze and a sighed acceptance follow. We go to town. It’s not the same.

I remember when we were talking about the truck possibly going away when Fritz visited us in New Orleans. Carrie was adamant about making sure the coffee station remained. We all agreed to take a component in our individual bags just to keep that ritual going. The truck ended up staying and so the café remains open every walking morning. It’s such a gift.

“Thanks so much,” we always say when we collect our beverage.

“Your welcome very much,” she says.

Another day has started beautifully