27/02/2024
Read and don’t you dare ever give up! ♥️
In the mid-1950s, an elderly woman, penniless after pneumonia, mounted a horse and set off on a journey through 18 states of America—with a dream to see the ocean. Along the way, strangers provided her with shelter and food, and she became a folk hero. Local residents were astounded to see an old horse plodding along the highway, ridden by a hefty, gray-haired woman, with a lively and spirited little dog running beside them on a leash. The woman was always smiling. What was she so happy about, people wondered, watching this odd procession. Could she be mad?
Annie Wilkins would later tell that it was God who told her to follow her dream, even if it seemed unattainable, childish, and wrong. Her dream was to bathe in the ocean and break free from the world she had lived in for over half a century.
As you get older, your account of losses only grows. In a strange way, life gradually takes away everything it once generously bestowed. And it's true, the pain from those losses never leaves, and no human experience can make up for what's been lost.
There comes a moment when the death of another loved one seems to hint—what are you still doing here...
Annie Wilkins was born and spent almost her entire life working on a pig farm in Minot, Maine, with her mother, father, and uncle. In 1954, at the age of 62, Annie felt her life was drawing to a close. Her parents had long passed away. After caring for her only living relative, her uncle, and trying to keep the small farm afloat, she barely made ends meet. Then her uncle died, and the farm had to be sold.
Her situation could be described as having no home, no family, no money, and no future. Annie was left alone with her beloved dog. Then, the elderly woman fell ill with pneumonia. Doctors said there was a dark spot on her lung and she had at most a year and a half to live. They suggested she move to a nursing home.
She was not prone to romantic reflections, but in those days, she often remembered her mother. Despite a life that was hard, like that of most women of her generation—with lots of work and very little love—her mother never stopped dreaming. She told her daughter that one day they would gather their strength, finish all their chores, and travel to the Pacific Ocean, to California. Her mother didn't live to see that moment, and Annie decided it was time to fulfill their shared dream—if she herself didn't have long left, she would try to reach the West Coast and see the beautiful lands her mother had dreamed of.
She felt reasonably well—yes, sometimes she breathed heavily, coughed. After all, she was 62. And what, wait for the disease to consume her from within? Absolutely not.
She remembered what the doctor said—time was against her. So, she had nothing to lose. In the end, if she was meant to die, why not do it on the road?
She had a purpose. Annie felt her mother approved of her decision and guided her on what to do. Where did the idea of selling homemade pickled cucumbers come from? No one else was there to eat them anyway…
She sold cucumbers for several months and pawned her house. With that money, she bought a retired gelding named Tarzan, who looked more like an old, worn-out mare. Perhaps Tarzan, too, dreamed of shaking off the old days—he once shone at a riding academy.
Annie stocked up on feed for him and her beloved mutt, a mix of dachshund and spaniel. Now these two became her family.
She wore almost all the clothes she had left, pulled on an oversized men's jumpsuit over them. To the saddle, she tied a sleeping bag, a cast-iron skillet, buckets. A clothesline served as a leash for the dog.
Annie hoped she could feed her team with odd jobs. She wasn't afraid of work.
In mid-November, the trio set off on their journey—despite snowfall and ice. She didn't have the heart to look back at the small house. She was sure she would never see it again.
Later, newspapers would write many beautiful words, saying this was not just a journey but a hymn to hope, mercy, and incredible resilience.
Once outside her small house's gates, Annie was desperately trembling. Fear overwhelmed her—how could she, an old woman, seriously think she could find work on the road! Who would hire her when even men around were unemployed?
Yet, the three travelers—old woman, horse, and dog—moved forward, overcoming bad weather and blizzards. They forded rivers, climbed mountains, huddled on the roadside, as cars whizzed by at crazy speeds. The horse would shy away from them to the side, making it difficult to control.
In Arkansas, they narrowly avoided an attack by a coiled snake. In Colorado, they were nearly trampled by a herd of cattle, and in Wyoming, they woke up one morning completely submerged in water—a sudden flood had inundated everything around them.
Like any normal person, Annie feared she might be robbed or killed along the way. A sense of relief washed over her when she began to meet people. This trio was so out of place on the highway, evoking such mixed feelings—shock, compassion, bewilderment—that everyone wanted to help. Annie was invited to stay overnight by complete strangers, and many offered her and her four-legged friends a permanent place to stay. It was touching to the point of tears.
Annie wrote to a friend that even truck drivers, rough, unpolished long-haul truckers, took them under their wing—warning them about traffic jams, black ice, and looking after them in every possible way. In Pennsylvania, she arrived with a cough and severe back pain, and was invited to stay as long as she wished in the luxurious Chadds Ford Inn, where rest and good food helped her fully recover. But she also had to spend nights in jails, because it was safe there.
The newspapers learned about the unusual “wandering rider” and started publishing news as she slowly moved across the country. Unexpectedly, she became a folk hero. Now, upon entering another town, she was provided with a police es**rt, invited to local schools to talk about her journey.
“I felt like Lindbergh, who flew across the Atlantic Ocean alone,” she said with understandable pride.
Clearly, the towns and villages through which Annie traveled were not populated by mythical elves; no one is perfect. But this old woman unmistakably provoked the best in those she met.
Journalists often asked her how she felt about her incredible success. “Calm,” Annie replied. “God has a plan for each of us. Everything is predestined.”
The closer she got to her goal, the more often she remembered an encounter at the beginning of her journey. It was one of her first overnight stays in an unfamiliar place, the town of Windham.
She decided to spend the night in a grove near the road. Exhausted and full of impressions, she fell asleep immediately. She woke up to the angry growling of her dog—above her loomed a policeman who politely asked her to follow him.
He took her to a small private hospital managed by Dr. Lawrence Bennett and his wife Nellie. Nellie fed Annie dinner, made a bed for her, and arranged for Tarzan to stay on a neighboring farm.
The doctor turned out to be paralyzed; he had been lying on his back for the last 20 years but continued to practice and help people! An incredible person. His wife took him everywhere on a special trolley.
The next morning, Nellie drove her back to Tarzan. While the horse ate its oats, the women talked. Nellie was very friendly, but it seemed she wanted to say something and didn’t know how. Then Annie said, “Some people don’t approve of what I’m trying to do.” “My husband and I approve,” Nellie immediately said. “But we would like you to reconsider and stop.”
Annie thought she had misheard. “While we were having breakfast this morning, my husband called your doctor,” she continued. “So, we know all about you and your pneumonia.”
Annie was grateful to her for the care—she hadn’t been cared for like that in a long time, and for the delicacy—she didn’t insist, so Annie tried to explain that she had the Lord’s approval, that she felt better than ever. Fresh air was helping her lungs, and the attitude of the people she met along the way was working wonders.
Nellie smiled, hugged her, and looking straight into her eyes, said, “You’ll make it there, you MUST make it there.” Then she kissed Annie on the left cheek, turned around, and walked to her car.
Everyone was rooting for Annie. It was as if their own lives depended on whether she reached the ocean or not. As if all the things they themselves had never dared to do, all the opportunities they had turned down, suddenly came to life in this strange, cheerful woman. Perhaps they saw in her their own unfulfilled dream of freedom, of belief in goodness.
In Pennsylvania, Annie met Andrew Wyeth, a world-famous artist (though she had no idea who he was)—he had come especially to meet the eccentric old woman and her horse.
She went into the stable to saddle up Tarzan, and there on a crate sat a man drawing her horse. “You’re getting a good likeness!” He smiled, thanked her, and said his name was Andrew.
They traversed 18 states over 17 months, and finally, Annie, Tarzan, and Depeche Toy (the name of the dog) dipped their feet and paws into the Pacific Ocean!
After living briefly in California, Annie returned home and lived another 24 years—far beyond the time doctors had allotted her. She passed away in 1980 at the age of 88.
Even managing to use her travel journals and photographs, working with an editor, she wrote and published a book titled "Last of the Saddle Tramps."
Annie accepted everything life threw at her with grace, but she orchestrated the end of her life in her own unique way. In this extraordinary experience lies wisdom—the understanding that it's never too late to start over, to believe in people and your own strength, even if you're not in the best of health in your old age.
Katie Kaspari
Unshakeable People Club
