Then, as we'd feared, the weather in France and western Germany dogged us with numbing rain and snow through the Black Forest--even in May--while showers had us constantly changing in and out of rain gear.

I'd heard it was very popular in the summertime, but surprisingly we were alone on that beautiful trail most of the time. Far from fair-weather hikers, we walked six to eight hours a day through rain for eighteen out of twenty-one days in Austria. On the other hand, as always, traveling slowly had its just rewards.

If that weren't enough, midsummer temperatures soared to 80 and then 90 degrees (F).

However, local hospitality provided a welcome breeze. Despite language barriers, we were a novelty. We frequently chatted with newspapers and television news teams about the reason for our trek. Their reaction was supportive and warmly emotional, as they'd suffered through nearly endless wars for centuries. Ultimately, we reached millions with a message of peace. Then, the unthinkable happened.

In Belgrade, we heard disturbing news. Israel and Hezbollah in Leba-non were trading missiles. News pundits predicted the start of World War III. The border population was already being evacuated. Instead of turning back, we promised to re-evaluate our route (or the wisdom of continuing) once we reached Istanbul. To risk it all and hike through a war zone seemed reckless. Besides, I was still determined to find a safe route that others might follow.

Outside the Serbian capital, our path coincided with the old Roman Via Militaris road dating back to the 1st century. Occasionally, we'd see bits of its two chariot-wide cobblestoned surface poking through peeling asphalt. Meanwhile, the sizzling weather and fatigue continued to take their toll. Yet the hardest part of our journey remained--crossing Turkey and the Middle East.

After we reached Istanbul, my diabetic friend, suffering from the heat and dehydration, made a difficult decision. He'd return home. Considering his earlier trek from Dijon to Finisterre, he'd walked the width of Europe--a noble accomplishment for anyone--let alone a 68-year-old. I also had a difficult choice. With the wildfire of war possibly spreading to Syria, an Ebola-type virus infecting parts of east Turkey, an attempted attack on the American embassy in Damascus, and the recent killing of tourists in Amman, I decided to continue alone across Turkey's high, barren plains. Then I'd head south 800 km. to Alanya on the coast and cross over to Cyprus. This route coincided with a later Crusader trail.

Given Middle Eastern policies, I was initially uneasy about folks' reaction to an American stumbling through a Muslim region. However hardly a day passed that I wasn't taken under someone's wing. Their generosity was amazing and I had to be careful of what I visualized, as wishes would soon mysteriously ma
terialize. People reached out, curious to learn about my quest and talk about peaceful options. Alanya's television station even insisted on shooting an interview before I caught the short ferry to northern Cyprus.

This trek across Cyprus (Option B) was never absolutely guaranteed. The notorious border between the north and south had only recently opened after thirty years. So I was relieved to cross without any major problems, then trek another three days through sleepy mountain villages. Finally, I arrived in Limassol, in the shadow of its own Templar castle on the island's southern coast. Then I made the overnight crossing on a weekly cargo ship to the recently shelled port of Haifa, Israel and nearby Akko, another historic Templar fortress.

In Turkey, I'd heard about the Israel National Trail and was anxious to meet Dany, its founder. He was generous with his time, supplying me with topographic maps and a helpful list of 'angels' to assist on my final stretch to Jerusalem. This path turned out to be a welcome change. For eight days, it led me off-road into the parched, rugged hills, then along wide beaches to cosmopolitan Tel Aviv, and finally southeast toward the Holy City.

Israel was on a high state of alert; typical for life on what they call "an island surrounded by a sea of sharks." Yet my hosts were open and generous and interested in sharing a rare glimpse of modern Israeli life. Once again, as in Western Europe, the Balkans, and Turkey, I discovered people are similar, no matter what their country, culture or religion.

Finally, after trekking 137 days (160 days total) over 4,223 walking kilometers (2,620 miles), I entered the Old City of Jerusalem through legendary Jaffa Gate.

There was no fanfare or welcoming committee. I was only one solitary traveler entering a city held sacred by three major religions--and grateful to all who'd helped him realize a dream. Over the next several days, I sauntered through history, taking in all the highlights that make Jerusalem unique, yet my arrival on foot made it all more meaningful. Before leaving, I stopped into the Latin Patriarchate office where the Chancellor typed what he said was the first certificate or compostellae issued to a modern-day foot pilgrim.

After seven million small steps, I know we each can make a difference. I planted seeds along the trail. With a bit of luck, they'll take root and this Templar Trail will become a true international path of peace that all may walk in brotherhood.