Weighing 410 pounds, and simmering with a lifetime's worth of mistakes and tragedies to reflect upon, Stephen Vaught left his San Diego home one day and went out for a stroll. When he'd returned, the Fat Man Walking, as he was known, had put 3,000 miles behind him, shed approximately 100 pounds, and, of course, appeared on Oprah.

The combination of morbid obesity and chronic depression isn't the most obvious recipe for such ambitious feats. But happy or sad, fat or slim, we all conjure up the notion of checking out and hitting the road from time to time. While many of us are able to shake off such flights of fancy with a quick re-read of On the Road, for some the drumbeat of the unknown isn't silenced quite so easily.

Stephen Vaught found himself to be one such unfortunate adventurer. A former Marine, he was once at the pinnacle of physical fitness, had a decent job, had dated a few pretty girls here and there. He'd had his share of ups and downs, wins and losses, just like the rest of us. But as Vaught told Gelf in a recent email interview, his demons were far more extreme than the average man's woes of domestic boredom and post-adolescent restlessness.

An unhappy childhood and a young adulthood marked by tragedy—he was behind the wheel during an accidental vehicular manslaughter of an elderly couple—set a dour tone that would anguish Vaught for decades. Through routine bouts of nomadic living patterns and self-imposed isolation, he couldn't escape his guilt, grief, and self-loathing. Gradually, his depression was changing him into the Fat Man.

Vaught eventually found himself with a loving wife (April—they're now divorced) and two young children. His sunny San Diego domestic life may have appeared full, but to him only highlighted the emptiness that probably made a family man (and fat man) out of him in the first place. Vaught had settled down, but he remained unsettled.

A heart-attack scare during a night of casual shopping in a local Target store provided the spark that lit the fire under Stephen Vaught's boots. After choosing a destination (New York City) and a path by which to reach it (primarily Route 66), Vaught began his tumultuous, epic journey on April 10, 2005. Armed with basic backpacking supplies, he went out to find himself (and hopefully a thinner version of himself).

By the time he crossed the George Washington Bridge thirteen months later, Vaught was a bona fide celebrity surrounded by reporters and a documentary crew. His personal website was mobbed by a curious public. But as the media transformed his search for curative yet strenuous introspection into a generic inspirational story intended for mass consumption (see ABC's Fat March), Vaught became tired of the weight loss angle to his walk.

His weight loss of 100 pounds (today he says he's at 315) wasn't big enough for some of his audience. How could such drastic measures produce such mediocre results? Vaught said those naysayers missed the bigger picture. The readings of the scale were far less important than the qualitative transformation of his state of mind, or, dare he say it, soul.

Nearly a year and a half after ending his trip, Vaught, 42, tells Gelf what a really long walk taught him about self exploration, religion, and perfect media storms.

Gelf Magazine: Where is the Fat Man Walking (or Working, Playing, Living, etc.) these days?

Stephen Vaught: I'm back in San Diego after spending four months with my family in Ohio. I'm working for a friend right now but looking for something more creative. I've spent most of my adult life as a business manager, but that no longer fits into who I am.

GM: If you do not want to classify your journey as a "weight-loss story," what would you like it to be classified as? Is such a context important to you, or irrelevant?

SV: Weight loss is certainly the goal because obesity is the result of a poorly managed life, in my case. But that weight loss is pointless without a real and significant change to the behaviors that caused the obesity in the first place. Without critical self-examination, commitment to change, and finding an agreeable center, you cannot expect to change who you are. Without such change, weight loss is not permanent. So in that regard, the more important part of the journey is the pursuit of the self. Without it, failure is certain; with it, weight loss comes naturally. Dam the dike and the flood waters recede.

"I didn't quit, mainly because of my sincere desire for change and partly because of how humiliating it would have been to do so."

GM: Now that the media spotlight has dimmed, do you feel you've reclaimed your experience?

SV: Well, not entirely. It seems that the media is, was, and always will be a part of the story. I started this walk alone and finished it with a worldwide audience, thanks entirely to the media. My inexperience in dealing with that media made them part of the story. So now when I think back to the walk, I really remember two different walks; the first half, where it was really about introspection, challenges, and overcoming odds; in short, finding inner strength. The second part was more about surviving my own creation: staying focused with what I needed to do for myself while riding the tidal wave of media, and subsequently, the fans. Once I separate out the mania surrounding the walk, I can appreciate how great the experience was for me, how much it really changed my life, and most importantly, that it was the greatest year of my life.

GM: Was the pressure of public scrutiny something you sought before you started your walk, perhaps as a drastic stab at self-motivation?

SV: Not at all. Initially I thought I might get some local interest. I had family and friends that I thought would pay attention to the website. But I never imagined that things were going to get like they did. If I had known then, I might have reconsidered the whole thing. In fact, I didn't even do a journal until I was well underway. I told April what was going on, and she posted things to the site. But soon I found that telling the story made me feel connected to people with similar issues, and that was a very powerful motivator. I believe that it was because of that journaling that interest started to grow. People began living vicariously through me. Having the limelight on you when you are struggling so hard to overcome a self-inflicted situation makes it all the more difficult. In hindsight, the media was both good and bad.

GM: You've said your website was largely responsible for your eventual rise to fame. Its deliberate publicity of your trip seems somehow in conflict with the nature of your walk. Why was this personal journey something you felt the need to broadcast, despite its highly private significance?

SV: This was something I let the public know about for two basic reasons: One is that it is harder to fail when you have a lot of people watching you, and from that you can draw strength. Secondly, I knew that there were a lot of obese people out there looking for answers and motivation. I wanted to show people that you are only limited by your own fears and inaction. More importantly, people do not need to rely on gimmicks and potions. They have the power of change inside of them, and just need to find it.

GM: In essence, then, you were your own publicist?

SV: In the beginning, April and I simply called local camping-supply stores asking them to give a discount in exchange for ad placement on the website. I had no idea how big the thing would really become when I started, so I never looked to them as sponsors. We were approached early on by a couple of business people that wanted to monopolize the name and website. That's when I started to get it, about the popularity of the story. After that, April and I both made the decision to just let any potential sponsors approach us, and I'd just focus on the walk. I didn't have time to deal with all of it, and April had very little interest in it. I now know that that decision was a mistake and it caused more chaos then it prevented.

GM: How do you believe your trip would have been different had you told no one about it? Do you ever wish that you'd kept it to yourself?

SV: Sometimes I think that if I'd been alone, that I might not have finished. There is no way to know that for sure, but there were plenty of days that I thought about giving up. That is part of being obese, giving into your weaknesses. But I didn't quit, mainly because of my sincere desire for change and partly because of how humiliating it would have been to do so. I believe that if I had kept it to myself it might have been more beneficial for me personally, giving me more time to reflect and less distractions. But either way, it brought me to where I am today and I am grateful to be here.
There are a lot of people who have emailed me asking about how they can get attention for their walk, run, ride, swim, or whatever. I tell them to be careful what they wish for, seriously think about what they are trying to achieve, and determine if the public helps or hinders that effort.

GM: What were the specific religious or spiritual undertones of your trip? Was this trip framed in a spiritual context from the get go? If not, when and where did it adopt one?

SV: I have to start by saying that I don't believe that religion and spirituality are necessarily connected. Certainly, religion—true religion, that is—has spirituality at its core. But I believe most people use religion to hide from the intellectual and existential journeys that we all need to take. It is a truly spiritual religious person that embraces the inherent intellect to find the way to God, even if God is not the intended goal. Those who avoid this journey are not living life's richness, and instead are simply burning precious time. I feel that growth is not possible without introspection of some sort, willing or otherwise. Accidental enlightenment is fine, but not guaranteed or even likely.
When you spend sufficient time alone in your own mind things seems to open up, the world becomes clear and simple. This is not to say that if you stand in a field for a few weeks, all the world's ills will disappear. It means that the way you see that world changes, and thus so does your experience within it. This is the base of all philosophies (religions), acceptance through understanding—but it is really focused on in Eastern philosophies. I tend to favor the Zen Buddhism outlook, although I shy away from calling myself a Buddhist.

"The idea of a risky walk across the country pales against the risk of living as an obese man."

GM: Before your trip, what were your religious beliefs?

SV: This is always a difficult question for me because it tends to polarize people. I usually sidestep it by saying that I don't discuss because weight and depression are universal and my message is not meant for one particular belief or another. What I do believe in I am confident in, comfortable with, and always test. I grew up a Christian, but most people born in this country were. I have spent a great deal of my time studying religion, theology and philosophy specifically, and consider myself well-versed in all the five major and a great deal of the minor belief systems.

GM: Before you embarked on your journey, did the risk of dangerous or uncontrollable situations make it more appealing to you? Do you think you generally embrace reckless behavior more than the average person?

SV: I have to admit that I do enjoy the unknown, and I usually respond better in a crisis situation. In some cases you never really know how strong you are until you test it, and not just any test, but a life-and-death one. I believe that this is a product of my inner-city upbringing and time as a Marine.
But in my situation, the idea of a risky walk across the country pales against the risk of living as an obese man. On the one hand, a cross-country trek is risky, but you fend for yourself and adapt, improvise, and overcome. Conversely, with obesity you will not survive unless you change and do it fast. So when you compare the two risks, walking across the country no longer seems so dangerous.

GM: Have you gained an understanding of a man who chooses to leave everything he has behind?

SV: Attachment is the most egregious quality of man. The more you hold on to a thing, the more it holds you prisoner. With the exception of my children, I have completely abandoned my previous life. I no longer manage business or pursue money beyond what I need. I've given away all of my material things and live life out of two or three carry bags, and I recommend it highly. Without the suffering related to desire, and envy over material things, I'm able to remain focused on my greatest possession: my existence.

GM: How do you think your experience has left its mark on the life you've led since its completion?

SV: It has certainly made things more difficult, in a way, because I'm unable to return to my old life even if I want to. Exploring one's self is an endeavor that you cannot return from, you cannot unlearn or decide to quit. As a result I find myself stuck between those two worlds, one pulling me towards the old life and the other pulling me further away. Cutting those last strings is proving to be the most difficult.

GM: Do you ever think about a second trip?

SV: I wish I could leave tonight. Hell, if I had the opportunity I would leave during the middle of this interv…

Related on the Web: Steve Friedman, who will be appearing at Gelf's Varsity Letters event on Thursday, November 8, profiled Vaught for Backpacker last year.

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