As he labored his way through the final stretch of a trek to the largest immigration detention center in the Northeast, Jaime Martinez said he felt “sobered” by his destination.
“We’re walking to a place where people can’t walk free,” he told TribLive on the side of a country road somewhere in Clearfield County.
Around noon Sunday, he and a group of immigrant rights advocates arrived outside Moshannon Valley Processing Center, about 130 miles from where they began walking, to call for its closure and in solidarity with those detained in the center.
Martinez, executive director of Pittsburgh-based Frontline Dignity, set off with a group of supporters Easter morning from ICE’s field office in Pittsburgh’s South Side. Dozens from throughout the state joined along the eight-day journey to Moshannon, located near Philipsburg in Clearfield County.
The march, which Martinez has called a “pilgrimage,” took the group through a half-dozen counties, up and over mountains — and deep into Trump country.
But Martinez said the most aggression the group encountered was a pair of hostile corgis somewhere near Coalport in Clearfield County.
Several dozen motorists beeped and waved in support of the marchers as they headed from Osceola Mills to Moshannon Sunday morning.
Martinez said he began most days around 5 a.m., offering prayers of gratitude in English and a rosary cycle in Spanish.
Exiting the spiritual realm for the material one, Martinez followed up his prayers by coating his feet in Vaseline and preparing for the day over breakfast with his companions.
Most days, Martinez said he was accompanied by around a six or seven others, though the last leg of the journey saw him leading more than 30 hikers.
Among them was Raj Narayan.
Narayan, 53, of Pittsburgh said he joined four days of the trek in honor of his parents, who immigrated to the United States from India when he was a child.
“They were immigrants, but they were entirely dyed in the wool Americans,” he said. “I hope I’m a good son of this country.”
Inspired by the Civil Rights-era marches of the 1960s, Narayan wore a wool suit jacket and dress shoes on the last leg of the journey in an effort to model Martin Luther King Jr., whose nonviolent ideology serves as a template for his own beliefs, he said.
Aside from Martinez, Rosalyn Tosh was the only other marcher to complete the full walk from Pittsburgh to Moshannon.
For much of the trip, she served as the group’s caboose, pushing her bicycle along the way in addition to about 50 pounds of gear.
“The first few days were rough, but I just kind of accepted it,” Tosh, 20, of Pittsburgh said.
She plans to bike back to Pittsburgh over the course of two or three days.
A Carnegie Mellon student, Tosh said she was surprised by the amount of supporters the group found during the mostly rural hike, and she appreciated the natural beauty of the region.
She also formed strong bonds with her fellow hikers.
“It was everything I wanted out of it,” she said.
Teresa Parsons, 68, said she planned to take a cabin vacation from work last week, but she scrapped the idea when she learned of the march.
Instead, the Oakmont resident walked more than 100 miles over seven days.
Parsons said she enjoyed interacting with locals along the way and began to understand the “great struggles” of some Western Pennsylvania communities.
“I’ve met a lot of people I don’t agree with on everything, but we can agree on dignity,” she said.
When Carlos Mora felt his feet ache during his four days on the march, he said he thought of the thousands of people who made much more arduous journeys to reach the United States.
Mora, 29, of Erie is an organizer with Erie County United, a political activist group in Northwestern Pennsylvania.
He immigrated to the United States a decade ago from Colombia, where he said he witnessed the recent Venezuelan migrant crisis first hand as he lived in a neighboring region to that nation.
“Nobody wants to be a migrant,” Mora said.
He said he hopes the march will make more people aware of the plight of immigrants and draw more people into conversation.
“What unites us is 99%, but what divides us is so small,” Mora said.
Hailing from the Hawk Run community near Philipsburg, Ben Lanager said Moshannon has a mixed reputation among locals.
While many in the community are critical of the center, others see it is a vital job supplier for the region.
But Lanager, 25, said he could not support “cruelty for profit.”
The detention center is run by the Florida-based Geo Group, which operates several for-profit prisons throughout the country.
That prompted the Penn State senior to join the last portion of the journey on Monday.
“This is a true feat of activism,” he said.
When the several dozen marchers arrived outside Moshannon Monday — bolstered by several supporters already waiting outside the center — the scene was initially festive, complete with chants and impromptu musical performances.
But as Mora and local activists read testimonials from those who had been detained at the facility and the names of those who have died in federal custody, the mood turned solemn.
Martinez, who said the march was inspired by his own Catholic pilgrimages, encouraged the crowd to channel their anger into love and purpose.
“We’ll keep seeing you on the front line in the defense of dignity,” he said.
Afterward, he said he felt “relieved” by the end of the journey and “ready for the next steps.”
A fundraiser started in tandem with the hike in support of Frontline Dignity had raised nearly $50,000 of its $133,000 goal by Sunday afternoon.