He walked alone, praying. Through the dark, over both Grandmother and Grandfather mountains, under the faint light of the stars and a waning Moon, Tom Dostou journeyed alone on a Night Walk. His steps guided him to the sunrise.

Afterward, resting, he observed: "It was beautiful, but a hard walk in some ways. I am psychologically tired from the months of preparation and the ongoing stresses of walking and making arrangements. That has taken a lot. Something like this really calls on you to reach deep. Last night as I walked I saw again how important the Sunbow 5 walk is, and how committed we have to be. It's going to take everything. I have to be prepared to make the ultimate commitment to complete it, even be prepared to die. That's some of what I understood as I walked through the night.

"These are very sacred mountains we are in. They have a long history, and they have been wounded in many ways through disrespect, and a lot of horrible things have happened here in history. It's very important to pray as you travel through.

"At one point late in the night I felt called to a particular rock, and I laid down on top of it. At that time I was given a vision of these mountains, of this whole Appalachian chain. I saw and felt myself in relationship with the most sacred of the mountains: Khatadin in Maine, Washington and Monadnock in New Hampshire, Wachusett in Massachusetts, Ragtop (Old Rag), Grandmother and Grandfather Mountain, and some others. It was a very powerful vision, and it showed a lot.

"These mountains are not respected anymore. In times past they were used for vision, and people would come to them only to fast and pray, and to open themselves to the Mystery. Now they are hardly ever used that way. In my vision I could see that this is something that is missed by the spirit of the mountains -- as if they were lonely for that kind of human striving and contact. It would be good if it would happen more now. That would help with the deep healing that the people of this planet need to do."

During the day, the main group of walkers moved on through the heat, down the Blue Ridge Parkway as far as Crabtree Meadows State Park, NC. Several of the walks commented on how, when they walk through some of the tunnels that have been blasted, they feel as if they are in the belly of the mountain -- and that the bellies are aching. They said they could feel what has happened to the Earth.

The walkers found their campground comfortable, and enjoyed a spaghetti dinner while making plans to move on at daybreak to the Peace Chamber at the Foundation for Earth's Ancestral Voices in Swannanoa, NC.

James Duncan called from Chattanooga, TN, to say that he would join the walk on Wednesday. From March through May of this year he completed a long walk he called "The Trail of Joy." James, his wife, and their five daughters all walked from Talequah, OK to New Echota, GA. Their walk reversed the pathway Cherokee peoples were forced to walk in 1838 in what is often called "the drive away," or "The Trail of Tears."

The Trail of Tears came about when pressure from settlers seeking to take over Cherokee lands reached a crescendo in 1828-30. At that time Georgia passed laws extinguishing the government of the Cherokee, outlawing their traditional capitol at New Echota, and distributing their lands. These laws were in direct violation of numerous legally binding treaties between the tribe and the US government, and also an explicit ruling of the Supreme Court. However, US President Andrew Jackson harbored an abiding and undisguised scorn for Native peoples. He publicly refused to honor the treaties, and instead advocated an Indian Removal Act. Thus, the nation broke its vow and set the stage for the forced displacements of hundreds of thousands of Native peoples, including the Cherokee, to barren lands far west of the Mississippi.

Walking the trail of tears, poorly fed and equipped, relentlessly driven, the Cherokee lost over one-quarter of their population to sickness, exposure, and mistreatment. Eventually they were settled in Eastern Oklahoma at Talequah. That is where James Duncan was born some 46 years ago, a direct descendant of some of the people who walked that sad trail to the west so many years ago.

What James Duncan and family strove to do with their walk this spring, was to bring the journey home: to reverse the pathway and bring the spirit back toward the East with a walk of prayer and understanding. "We wanted to try and heal some of the pain and sorrow and bitterness," he explained. "And so that is why we walked the Trail of Joy.

"We need to open our eyes to the fact that we are one people, one nation. If we are divided, it's because we let it happen. We are all brothers, this we know. We have to come into harmony with ourselves first, before we can come into harmony with others. That is why we walked. We walked to pray and to help with the healing."

James will be sharing the story of the "Trail of Joy" with the Sunbow 5 Walkers over the next few days. He will also tell them of the "DeSoto Walk" that he is planning for the Spring of 1996. With his family and all who are interested, he will make a prayer and healing pilgrimage from the Mississippi River, where the conquistador Hernando DeSoto died in 1542, back to Tampa, FL, the starting point of his march of death and destruction through the Southeast. About this upcoming walk, James would say only "It is time for healing."

The Sunbow 5 Walk for the Earth will move on past Asheville, NC, on Thursday, and head for the Qualla Boundary -- present-day headquarters of the Eastern Band of the Cherokee Nation -- by Friday.

-S.M.