By then, the body knew what to do.
My ankle was tender.
My mind was still.

The trail had worn me down just enough to make me pay attention.

That’s when I passed a gated government facility.

A Simple Sign

Nothing special.
Just a marker.

Gate #77

Without explanation, something internally shifted—the feeling that I was onto something important.

Not a beginning.
Not an ending.
A threshold.

Why 77 Mattered This Time

I’d seen the number before, earlier in the journey.
My mind flashed back to Chunky Gal Trail #77.

Then another memory surfaced—a word I’d recorded months earlier in The Gambia, a video I call Book 77.

The thoughts came quickly.
So I took out my phone and started speaking.

Gate #77 became the second witness on trail. I was paying attention.

77.
77.

What This Video Is

This isn’t about signs.
It’s about sequence.

Some moments only make sense after you’ve lived a little longer.
Some gates only reveal themselves once you’re already on the other side.

Suddenly, everything came together—the trail, the timing, the recording in Africa, the gate in New Jersey. Or did it? Time will tell. For the original word from Africa to be accurate, we’ll need to see an occult ritual tied to #77 before May of 2026.

When that happens, I’ll release “Book 77” to reveal the full, damning picture.

If you’ve ever looked back and realized that’s when things changed—even though nothing dramatic happened at the time—you’ll understand Government Gate #77.

—

More soon.

And then I saw it.

Chunky Gal Trail #77.

The name stopped me cold.

Not because it was strange (trail names often are), but because it echoed something I couldn’t immediately place. A resonance. A bell ringing somewhere deep in memory.

A Memory from Africa

The previous year—half a world away on the Smiling Coast of Africa—I recorded a word that I call “Book 77”. At the time, I didn’t fully understand the implications of the dots I was connecting. I just knew what I saw mattered enough to document it.

Standing there at mile 77, the connection stirred—but it still wasn’t clear.

Clarity didn’t come until December.

The Text That Changed Everything

A spiritual father sent me a text.
A single message.
An image.

Suddenly, a timeline snapped into focus.

In May of 2025, Israel marked 77 years as a nation. But it goes deeper than that.

If we don’t see something on December 21, there are a few other dates before May 2026 that have my attention. The first is the Super Bowl.

SuperbOwl Sunday

This year, the SuperbOwl marks exactly 77 years, 7 months, 7 weeks, and 7 days since the State of Israel was founded, and I have lots of things to say about the Superb Owl and the predictive programming foisted upon America for the last sixty years.

Will anything occur at this time?

Overtly, probably not—but if one has eyes to see, the Super Bowl is always used as a form of disclosure. TBD.

The Likely 77 Ritual Date

While the Winter Solstice and Superb Owl will undoubtedly speak if you have eyes to see, I am more focused on what gets disclosed during this less overt date:

• March 18, 2026 — This is the 77th day in 2026, the last day of SXSW, and the first day of the Biblical new year!

  

The Last Play of the Game

If we don’t see something catastrophic on the above dates, the absolute last option for a 77 ritual during the 77th year of the State of Israel comes in the days and weeks leading up to April 21.

Why? Israel turns 78 on April 22.

Will we see a 77 ritual before then?
Will it be on American soil?

Time will tell. And the clock is ticking…

77 Speaks

If you have eyes to see, you know numbers speak.

I’m not claiming I understood any of this when I stepped onto the Appalachian Trail. I didn’t. Nor do I fully understand it now. What I’m learning—again and again—is that God often reveals meaning in layers.

First the encounter.
Then the memory.
Then, at the appointed time, the understanding.

That’s what this video is about.

To fully grasp what these convergences imply—spiritually, prophetically, symbolically—you’ll need to watch Book 77 (coming soon). Stay tuned!

I won’t spoil it here.

Just know this:
None of this caught God by surprise.
And maybe—just maybe—it won’t catch you by surprise either.

One Unforgettable Journey.

The Call

I didn’t plan to hike the A.T.
The idea arrived as two quiet, unmistakable words:

Appalachian Trail.

No fanfare. No explanation. Just clarity.

Ten days later, I was on a plane with a backpack and no real idea what obedience would cost—or give. I had crossed borders before, more than fifty of them internationally, chasing culture, story, novelty.

I knew how to move. I knew how to arrive.

What I didn’t know was what it meant to walk toward the same destination for months on end.

The Trail teaches that early.

One Direction

When you wake up every morning aimed at the same distant mountain, travel changes. There’s no rush to consume experience. No checklist of highlights. Just the next white blaze and the quiet promise that if you keep walking, it will lead you where you’re meant to go.

Movement becomes devotion.
Progress becomes faith.

The Appalachian Trail is simple in design—one blaze to the next. This straight and narrow corridor through wilderness is the longest marked trail in the world. There are switchbacks, climbs, descents, and moments where the path disappears into rock or root—but the blaze always reappears.

That’s how divine guidance works too.

You don’t need the whole map. You just need the next marker.

Learning to Listen

Out there, stripped of distraction, the Voice inside me finally had room to speak—and then, slowly, to replace my thoughts with His. I learned how little I actually needed to carry, and how much weight I’d been hauling that was never mine to begin with.

Doubt disappears.
Urgency fades.
Clarity sharpens.

I stopped asking where am I going? and started asking why?

Authority, Not Control

I used to think nature was something to be managed or endured. The Trail dismantled that idea.

I walked through hail that stung like judgment. Watched skies twist into something dangerous and alive. Felt the ground remind me it can move when it wants to. In those moments, I remembered the story of a man asleep in a storm—unafraid, not because the storm wasn’t real, but because He knew who held it.

I don’t fully live there yet.

But I’m learning the difference between control and authority. One clenches. The other rests.

Creation isn’t something to dominate. It’s something to move through in alignment.

Staying Oriented

On trail, you get lost sometimes. Not dramatically—just enough to realize you’ve drifted. And when you do, you don’t panic. You look for the white blaze.

That’s it.

The blaze reorients everything.

God’s voice works the same way. When things get noisy or unclear, you don’t need a new destination. You need a reference point. Scripture is the FarOut app for your soul—not replacing the walk, but confirming where you are. Reassuring you that the trail still exists, even when you can’t see around the bend.

You’re not failing because you wandered.
You’re learning how to return.

Company on the Way

There was solitude, yes—but never loneliness. It’s hard to feel alone when you’re being led. And it was clear, He was with me every step of the journey.

There was community too—unforced, generous, fleeting and deep all at once. Strangers became companions simply because we were walking toward the same end. On the Trail, no one asks who you were. They ask where you’re headed. My answer was always “North”.

Direction matters more than history.

The Summit

And then, one day, the final mountain appears.

Katahdin rises not as a prize, but as punctuation. A period placed gently at the end of a long sentence. I climbed not as someone who conquered a mountain, but as someone who had been carried to it—step by step, blaze by blaze.

At the summit, the wind spoke louder than words. The miles behind me fell silent.

I understood then: the Trail didn’t change me by adding anything new. It changed me by removing what wasn’t true.

It taught me how to walk when called.
How to listen when uncertain.
How to trust the path even when I couldn’t see far ahead.

Still Walking

The journey doesn’t end at Katahdin.
And it doesn’t end off trail either.

But obedience always leads somewhere worth standing.

Sometimes all you need is the next white blaze—and the courage to follow it.

P.S. If you’re a fellow thru-hiker, I want to hear from you. Leave a comment with your trail name and what trail you completed. I’m especially interested in hearing from my 2025 AT family!

I’ve now set foot in Georgia, North Carolina, Tennessee and—currently—Virginia.

There’s no question that I am here on purpose … for a purpose.

Ten days before I departed, I heard a faint whisper in the recesses of my mind speak two words, “Appalachian Trail.” I questioned what I was hearing.

As the thought persisted, confirmation came from others. And so, I packed my bag and departed. From day one on trail, it was clear to me there is a deeper reason for this journey than I claim to know.

The path has been laid before me, so I am simply walking. North.

Trail Questions

• Some have questioned why I am walking. Me too.

• Some have questioned if I’ll complete the entire trail. Me too.

• Some have questioned when I’ll be done. Me too.

For now, I am simply walking about 15-25 miles a day and enjoying the amazing beauty along the way. The entire trail has been filled with peace and purpose.

I’ve explained it like this to some who have asked:

It seems I left the 99 and am going after the 1, again and again. I’ve been given a grace to walk at a seemingly supernatural pace, then—on occasion—I’ll hear to slow down or stop. Another sojourner will pass and I’ll pick up at their pace and spend the day walking with them.

Inevitably, this leads to the sharing of my testimony. And my testimony leads others to the inquisitive pursuit of the unseen realm. Interestingly, whoever is walking with me on trail becomes a captive audience that cannot escape the reach of the One who is pursuing them. With a strong hand and outstretched arm, He continues to encounter hikers with His unconditional love.

Capturing the Journey

To those who have asked about following along on the journey with me, I’ve embarked on a new way of capturing my trip. I’m vlogging.

Sorta.

I’m capturing daily commentary on the trail as if I’m vlogging, yet I decided early on that I would not be the one to edit or post these clips. I need to hire an editor to manage that side of the journey or else you’ll never see anything.

It’s hard enough walking continuously all day. At the end of the day when I set up my tent and lay down, I pass out. When I wake up, I repeat the endeavor all over again. Simply put, there is no time on trail to edit videos.

So, videos will not come until I figure out the whole editor situation. All that to say, you’ll see the journey—ups and downs—at some point.

Here are a few highlights I’ve endured:

• Hailstorm (followed by 11.7 mile night hike)

• Earthquake (4.1 on the Richter scale)

• Tornado (just a warning, but the wind was epic)

• Bear (seen a few now, mostly with cubs)

• Skunk (almost stepped on him)

• Dragon’s Tooth (morning sunrise)

How can you help?

Many have asked me how they can assist my journey. My answer early on was “I don’t know”. I was unsure what I had gotten myself into and had no clue about what was needed on trail.

After a month of hiking, I can now better answer that question.

Indeed, there are ways you can assist … if you’re so inclined. As far as equipment goes, I’m fairly dialed in. On the food side, however, I’m consuming way more calories than I ever imagined possible. A typical day right now is around 6000 calories.

I’ve been told that it’s not uncommon for hikers to eat more than 8,000-10,000 calories a day toward the end of the hike. That’s a lot of food, and food can be heavy so lightweight options become the only option on trail.

Hiker hunger is real.

If I had my druthers, I’d add these luxury food items to my daily intake to help manage nutrition and boost energy.

• LMNT Electrolytes - 2 packs Daily
  (Chocolate Salt, Citrus Salt, Lemonade Salt, Orange Salt)

• Progenex Recovery - 2 scoops Daily
  (Chocolate or Peanut Butter Smash)

• AG1 Travel Packs - 1 pack Daily

Unlike other snacks and meals available at resupply points along the trail, the above three items are rarely available on trail. And, after a month of hiking and investigating the routines of fellow hikers, I believe these would make the biggest difference in my daily routine.

Other items of interest include jerky, protein bars, homemade pemmican (Justin, are you reading this?), dehydrated fruit and—an absolute luxury—dehydrated dinners such as Mountain House or Peak Refuel.

Support Appreciated

If you want to help supply my journey, text me to let me know what item(s) you’d like to supply and I’ll give you an address where you can send them. (Or, if you simply want to give to the cavernous food fund, you can do so here.)

Logistics aren’t my strong suit. The easiest solution for you (and me) is to have everything sent to one location in Austin where one amazing woman will split items into resupply boxes that will be shipped ahead of me on trail. (Thank you!)

Again—if you text me—I’ll share that address. No worries if not.

Video journey coming soon. For now… just walking. North.

Two weeks before I set out on the Appalachian Trail, a surprise came my way via a Still Small Voice. I had been pressing in, seeking guidance on my next adventure when a question filled my spirit.

“In the last thirteen months of travel, where did you have the most impact?”

I thought deeply about this question as I drove through the Texas Hill Country. In Africa during the first six months abroad, my ministry was mostly to locals. That all changed when I made my way to Europe; the lives touched in Turkey, Georgia, Armenia, Northern Macedonia and Greece were almost exclusively fellow travelers.

I could sit in a hostel all day and other sojourners—mostly in their 20s and 30s—would find their way over to me. One question would lead to the next and soon we’d be having deep spiritual conversations about the meaning of life and where they were headed.

There was a certain ease to conversations that filled me with deep peace and purpose.

The Whisper

As soon as I realized that “fellow travelers” was the answer to the above question, I heard a faint whisper: The Appalachian Trail.

I shook the thought aside and went on driving. I’ve considered many thru-hikes in my travels, yet if I were selecting one, it would certainly NOT be the Appalachian Trail.

• The Pacific Crest Trail (PCT) is the more beautiful of the options in America spanning from Mexico all the way to Canada.

• The Continental Divide Trail (CDT) is definitely the most epic option, also spanning from Mexico to Canada, straight over the Rockies.

If it were up to me, I’d have chosen one of those two trails. I haven’t even considered a thru-hike in years (except briefly after completing a recent trek through Arkansas on a quick 30-mile weekend excursion).

The Appalachian Trail? No thanks. Too many people.

If I’m going on a trail through the great unknown, I want something remote and far-flung. Not a 2200-mile green tunnel up the East Coast filled with fellow travelers. I went on about my day.

And yet, I couldn’t shake the thought. The same three words kept floating about in my periphery: The Appalachian Trail.

Fine. I decided to look up some details. Where does it start?

The Conference

Turns out, the launch point is Amicalola Falls about an hour from a conference I was already set to attend in Tennessee. I know God called me there, yet when I got my ticket back in January, I was not certain why. I just know when I heard the conference mentioned on a podcast, I wrote the address of the conference in my day-planner and arranged a ticket for the end of April.

I also knew that May held new adventure for me. I thought that would be in the Middle East, yet when I threw out a fleece before the LORD, it came back negative.

And so, I threw out a separate fleece about The Appalachian Trail. “LORD, if You want me to go, I need a new phone before I depart.” The following day, two different people were speaking to me about upgrading my phone.

Walk in the Light

The day after I had the realization about the Appalachian Trail, I began a Biblical study on the word “WALK”.

I started writing verses looking for some sort of theme or purpose to my journey. Midway through the list of verses, my phone buzzed. I answered. It was Shabbat and Dr. Gayle was calling with an unusual question.

“What do you think Yeshua meant when He said, ‘Walk in the light when there is light?’” I laughed out loud. Gayle had no idea I was considering a VERY LONG WALK, nor did she know I was currently writing out verses around the theme of walking when she called.

God has a unique way a lessening the blow. I waited until Monday to tell Gayle I would be leaving Texas and, subsequently, decreasing the amount of time dedicated to Simka over the next five to seven months (that’s the average time it takes to complete the trail). She was taken aback when I delivered the news, yet when I reminded her of the question she asked me days before, a certain Peace took over.

She blessed my journey as we scrambled to get things in place to replace my daily presence. I would be leaving in just over a week.

The Overalls

The following day—Tuesday—I found myself revisiting one of my favorite ministries.

Once a year or so, I schedule some time at Luke 4:18 to sit with a couple intercessors and work through new levels of healing old trauma. It’s always amazing to me how God reveals and heals.

Some of you know the details of the childhood trauma I was blessed with as a boy. Truly, it has shaped who I am as a man, and I have come to be grateful for the experiences, despite the damage it caused along the way.

Just days before departing for the conference in Tennessee, I sat down at the table once again. Two women sat with me, one of whom knows the extent of my background and the second knows very little. The second of the two—Emma—came with four pages of notes that had been revealed to her by the Spirit the day before.

I am amazed at how the LORD works.

Emma saw a young boy in overalls. That was especially interesting to me as no one in the room knew overalls were my boyhood clothing of choice. As a five-year-old, if I got to choose my daily outfit, you better believe I’d be wearing overalls.

Clearly, overalls were a big part of my childhood identity, yet something I had not even thought about for decades.

The Slingshot

Emma went on and began to outline my childhood trauma without going into details. She saw the young boy was wounded by a male father-figure. True. My dad was abusive. To counteract this, she saw the young boy was given a slingshot in the spirit (one of my favorite childhood toys).

She then asked me if the younger version of myself needed anything; the immediate answer I heard was “air”.

Air?

I assumed this meant the little part of me needed some space to breathe, yet as I sat with my eyes closed I experienced what I will call a vision:

This young boy in overalls pulled back on the slingshot and fired it at a “monster” that had been nailed to the wall since the last time I was in one of these sessions.

As I released the slingshot payload, nothing fired except a puff of air, yet that “air” was enough to pierce the monster. He deflated, hanging from the nail like a deflated party balloon. And then… a nail-pierced hand emerged through the wall and removed the balloon. Gone.

Just like that, a weight was lifted. I don’t fully understand what happened, yet it was as real as any healing I’ve ever experienced.

Emma went on with the notes she had written the day before…

The Yellow Car

Emma saw me at my age now. She did not understand what she was seeing, yet was able to describe it in detail. Before I share, let me simply say that I had NOT told her I was considering embarking on an adventure along the Appalachian Trail.

Emma saw me in a yellow car called “The People’s Car”. I was traveling through the mountains in America. It was NOT in Texas. It was NOT international. I was traveling from campground to campground. I was traveling from campfire to campfire!

Are you kidding me?!?

I don’t know about you, but that was enough confirmation for me to know that the LORD is in this Appalachian adventure (even if I don’t fully understand what I am doing).

First Things First

From the moment I heard “The Appalachian Trail” to the time I departed for Tennessee was just over one week. During that time, I heard the LORD clearly tell me to worship in the Texas State Capitol under the Rotunda before I left.

For several months, we’ve been gathering in the Annex on Tuesdays to worship. This move from a hidden place into the public seemed strategic, so I called EmJae, a local Worship Commander, and invited him to join me.

He had Tuesday evening free, so I joined him on Tuesday at 7pm.

Consistency was the word spoken over this endeavor on the first night. And then—when we gathered again the following Tuesday at 7pm—I heard the Lord speak about a “7-10 Promise”. More on that later.

I departed for Tennessee the following Wednesday morning.

Off to the Conference in Tennessee

I’m not your average conference-goer. That’s simply not my scene, so I found it intriguing when I was called to Tennesee. Some incredible men of God spoke over the course of four days:

• Jonathan Cahn

• Mario Murillo

• Joseph Z (I was given a clear, time-sensitive word to share with him.)

• Mark Biltz

• Bill Cloud

• Perry Stone

I took three Simka Foundation business cards with me on my journey and shared them when I felt led. One such prompting puzzled me. Two women sat in front of me the second day. When I sat in a different location, Debra and Cathy again appeared before me.

I gave Debra a card not thinking much of the repercussions.

The Conference Ended

As the four-day event came to a close, I heard the Spirit say, “I have a ride for you.” I left my Airbnb and walked to the conference center that morning with a full pack, ready to go, yet without a ride.

I was instructed to make a sign that pointed me to Amacalola Falls, GA. As the final speaker dismissed everyone, I made my way to the exit with my sign. As soon as I stood in the doorway, however, I felt reprimanded. “I didn't tell you to go here.”

Fair enough, but if I want people to see the sign, I should probably be located in a high traffic area as people exit the premises. Maybe someone is going my way?

Nope. I heard clearly to go to the food court (where no one was) and to sit outside on the benches (where no one could see me behind the bushes). LORD, this makes no sense! I sat alone, murmuring to myself with my small sign invisible to everyone departing. And then, I heard a voice.

“Excuse me. Are you Stephen? Are you heading to the A.T.?”

Meet Hunter

An unassuming older man in a camo shirt approached me and introduced himself. I would soon learn that I was in the presence of Appalachian Trail greatness.

Hunter is a three-time A.T. thru-hiker who was once ranked #1 hiker by Appalachian Trail Conservancy. Hunter went out of his way to seek me out after he met Debra and heard about my journey that very morning!

He not only gave me a ride. He gave me an A.T. education.

You see, Hunter actually knew Earl Schafer, the first guy to ever hike the full A.T. Hunter is also a retired Park Ranger, wilderness survival guide and Messianic Rabbi who teaches emergency preparedness and Biblical prophecy in his spare time. The 76-year-old legend took me all the way to Amicalola Falls where I registered as a 2025 thru-hiker: #2374.

One Last Stop

Before he left me on the trail, however, Hunter made sure I had the proper gear, food and attire. That meant a trip into Dahlonega to peruse the local Walmart and fill my food bag. As we pulled out of Amacalola Falls headed for town, what car should pull into our parking spot but a bright yellow Corvette.

I immediately thought of Emma’s vision about the yellow car. You can’t make this up.

The Plan

The original plan was for Hunter to drop me in Dahlonega at the Hiker Hostel, but when we learned that it had been bought out by a boutique hotel, he came up with a new plan.

As a 3X Thru-Hiker, I decided to take Hunter’s advice along the way; whatever he said became law. He insisted I start at Springer Mountain, not in a few days as planned, but that very day. He drove me another hour down a dirt road and dropped me 0.6 miles from the official start of the Appalachian Trail.

My “Approach Trail Day” was unlike any other. It seems as though there was a plan in play long before I ever made my way to Georgia. Here am I.

As I walked the slippery trail to the official start of the AT on Springer Mountain, I pondered what this trail would hold for me. Would I finish?

I knelt alone on the mountain and touched the first white blaze painted on the stone summit next to a brass plaque.

Time to walk.