(Editor’s Note: Atlanta’s Father Bill Hoffman, now working as a missionary in Peru, shares with BULLETIN readers his account of a journey he made during Lent by horseback to visit Catholics in remote areas where no priests had traveled in two years.)

Why doesn’t this horse stop going under low-hanging branches? I ought to get off and walk - I really should - at least going downhill. If this horse slips again on these wet rocks, for sure I’m getting off. The next village must be behind that hill to the left - I wish I could remember the name of it. Oh, yes, it’s Huillcayhua. How did I get out here anyway?

Well, five days ago, Sisters Maria and Miriam, M.J.V.V., (I wrote about this order last week) asked me to accompany them on a trip through a district that had not seen a priest for two years. We sent word out by radio since the telegram was out of order. The first village was asked to send horses, but, as it happened, no one was listening to the radio at that time, and so no horses arrived. A kindly man arrived, by chance, with horses to take some eucalyptus seedlings to his village, and agreed to let us use three of them to get to our destination. That was a 10-hour trip.

The Sisters said we’d have to leave early so as to avoid the daily afternoon rain. Well, every day BUT that day! We were in the rain from 8 until noon, with a clear afternoon.

Sister Liliana was an old hand at horses - she was also the first one to fall when something frightened her mount! Sister Miriam, just out of the novitiate, had never ridden a horse, and was the ONLY one who did NOT fall off her horse. I fell yesterday when my horse slipped on some wet and muddy rocks; I can still feel a knot in my leg from it.

For sure, it’s rained everyday, and most of the day up till now. I wonder if these shoes will EVER dry out. The cold feet I can take care of once in bed at night, but the shoes stay wet. Luckily, bed time is about 8 p.m. since there are no electric lights, only candles in these villages. And the people don’t stay up using candles.

WHAT HAVE I BEEN DOING in these villages anyway? Well, there has been a large percentage of people that has wanted to confess sins and receive Holy Communion. And baptisms and weddings. Thank God the sisters have been doing all the paperwork. And I can pass off on them all questions about our itinerary. For instance, back there several people asked if we were going to visit the village of Iglesiapata, just over the mountain - it’s the “sister community” where corn is raised, whereas when we were was a potato growing area, and residents in one village are closely linked to the other village for reasons, first, of barter, then of intermarriage. And all such inquiries I could refer to the Sisters -- I’m just accompanying them, they are in charge of this area.

I think I’ve had enough corn, potatoes, rice and dried meat to last for several months, but I know that’s all I’ll have until the mission trip is over. After all, that’s all the people here eat - well, they do add some fruit and some greens to it once in a while.

My God, why is it my lot to get beds that are too short to stretch out my legs? I know there are not longer beds in a land of relatively short people, but it really would be nice to have just one night stretched out all the way.

Anyway, they always provide tons of blankets and they do keep me warm. And I have noticed only a few fleas with the blankets - not as many as I thought I’d find. God is good!

Look, I’m going to get off this horse right now - I can walk faster and more comfortably! But these men who brought the horses are trying to do us a favor - they walk, but want us to ride. How will they feel when they see me dismount disgustedly and walk? I suppose they’ll feel what they offered wasn’t good enough for me. But that’s not what I mean. I LIKE walking, it’s more comfortable, it’s more...Oh, what’s the use - they won’t understand. I’ll just hang in here somehow.

Great! Sister Liliana’s horse has begun to limp and now she’ll have to use my horse and I’ll be able to walk! Thank you, Lord!

The knapsack is light and it feel great to use the legs again. But these horses do go slowly. Well, I’ll get ahead of that really slow one. That’s better. And now I’m leading our small caravan along a narrow, but well used, trail, at 11,000 feet, overlooking the Pampas River. What a majestic view! Where are the others? There they are - I’d better wait until they catch-up. This cloud we’re walking through is getting me wet - let it blow over, Lord. That’s better.

Well now, which of these three or four possible trails do I take? Better wait for the guides. Where ARE those people, anyway? Five minutes is long enough for them to have reached me, IF they are on the same trail. They must have somehow cut down hill. I’d better do the same. Good grief, I’ve been looking and yelling for 15 minutes and not a sign of them or of ANYONE, I’d better go back where I saw them last and follow the trail more carefully. And now I’m back to where I was waiting before. Those fresh hoof prints lead up there - they must have passed while I was wandering around looking for them. I HOPE that’s what happened. If I walk really fast for an hour, I’ll catch them no matter what. If I don’t find them by that time, I’ll ...,(I wish I knew). Guardian angel, guide me! Why do most of the mountain trails always go UP! Beyond that ridge the trail goes up into the clouds again - guess our next village is around there somewhere.

What’s that? “Padre, down here!” Oh, that little figure way down there. Where did he come from? “Down here!” All right, I’m coming - right embarrassing this, getting lost and having to be searched for. Thank you, Lord, for having me put back with my party. I’m sorry for not following along at the pace of the group.

At last the final day of our trip. The men of the village promised to have our horses ready for the early nine-hour trip. Early, as they say it, is the “first hour” -- but I’m not new at this and I know by now “first hour” means between 6 and 9 a.m. I suppose the “second hour” would be 9 a.m. to noon. Showing my impatience might let off a little steam, but it would accomplish absolutely nothing more, they won’t move any faster.

I used to spend some time thinking about what penance to choose for Lent. I USED to. Why CHOOSE? All I have to do is accept from the poor -- give them a chance to share what they have and what they are. They are poor in only one sense -- materially. They aren’t poor in their own eyes when they can share themselves and their little with others. And that’s even more so when they share with the messengers who bring them the Gospel and the Sacraments.

It was a time of penance. It was Lent. A time for me to accept without frown or sharp voice that others provide for the visiting minister of God.