Steve Vaught is only about a quarter of a way into his journey, but already he has gone places he never imagined. The Valley Center man made his second appearance on the "Today" show on his 40th birthday Aug. 1. He recently signed a book deal with Harper Collins to tell his story. People around the country are looking at him as a new American folk hero, and so much attention has come his way that he is planning to design a T-shirt that will raise money for charity.

And all because he decided to slim down by taking a walk.

On April 10, Vaught strapped on a backpack loaded with camping gear and supplies and headed east on what would become perhaps the nation's most celebrated and inspirational weight-loss plan.

Vaught weighed about 400 pounds at the time and feared he would never live to see the high school graduation of his children, ages 3 and 8. He had tried diets, but they lasted only about six weeks before distractions and depression kicked in.

He thought of a new way to lose weight, daring and ambitious but also brilliant in its simplicity; he would walk from coast to coast. Vaught said the depression did show up as expected after six weeks, but by then he was too far from his couch and refrigerator to succumb to their lure.

Vaught is in New Mexico, somewhere east of Grants and west of Albuquerque off Interstate 40. According to his Web site, he had walked about 746 miles as of Friday and had 2,074 to go before reaching New York City.

"There's a couple of stretches of nothingness to look forward to," said his wife, April. "I'm sure he's going to have to go through some steep mountain passes in the Pennsylvania area."

Before leaving on his walk, the Vaughts set up a Web site, www.TheFatManWalking.com, to let family and friends know where he was. For people who didn't know Vaught, an introductory page explained who he was and why he was walking.

"Socially, being fat is hard to deal with because I feel that (I) am looked down upon by people even when they are not doing so maliciously," Vaught wrote. "It may be human nature. You know, 'survival of the fittest.' Also, I feel as though I am being taken advantage of by companies and people that want fat people to buy their latest 'miracle pill' or prepackaged food that will help me lose the weight."

Vaught's site caught the attention of a local radio station, and his story spread. His mission struck a nerve with people, especially those who could relate to his frustrations about trying to lose weight.

"'Nuts,' you say?" Vaught wrote about his coast-to-coast plan. "Well, maybe. But how nutty is spending a fortune on miracle weight-loss drugs or fad diets that never seem to have lasting results or dangerous surgeries that cost the same as a luxury car? Living your life without health insurance because you are considered too high-risk? What about the fact that only 3 percent of weight-loss attempts are permanently successful? What about the anxiety, depression and pain involved in everyday activities when you are fat? I don't want to miss out on birthdays, graduations, marriages and grandkids because I chose not to take my life back. That, to me, is nuts."

As more people learned about Vaught, more reporters came calling. A documentary crew is filming his walk, and Harper Collins has signed him to publish his story through Regan Books. Vaught is declining interviews until the book's release at the end of his walk.

The book contract was an unexpected but welcome surprise for the family. Vaught once owned his own towing company and had been a consultant for other business owners, but a downward physical and psychological spiral in recent years left his confidence shattered and his work offers few.

The Vaughts live in Valley Center with April's mother, and April works part time at her aunt's business. While money has been scarce, they have not been on public assistance, April said.

Their Web site lists 19 sponsors and individual supporters from 19 states, Canada and from parts unknown. The guestbook is 854 pages as of Friday and includes messages from across the country as well as Argentina, Australia, Belgium, Canada, China, England, Egypt, Finland, France, Germany, Hong Kong, Italy, Mexico, Norway, Peru, Portugal, Russia, Spain and Switzerland.

"I weigh 300 pounds and am inspired to walk and lose weight, too!" wrote one man. "I want my family to know I am going to lose weight and be the man my father meant for me to be! It will be hard to give up the cheesy fries and Wendy burgers. I feel the cravings as I speak."

"God bless you as you go," a woman wrote. "My husband who was heavy like you died at 36, leaving a 4-year-old daughter. She is turning 18 this year, and he has been missed in her life. Do whatever it takes and whatever God had led you to do."

April said she and her husband find such comments very touching.

"People talk about how their dad could never go to their graduation or get on an airplane and play with the kids because of obesity," she said. "It speaks to the reasons why Steve is out there."

Comments have been overwhelmingly supportive, although several have criticized Vaught for leaving his family for what they see as a stunt. They have questioned why people would contribute money to him rather than more worthwhile charities.

Aside from a single sentence that asks people to e-mail them if they can help in some way, there are no pleas for money on the Web site. More lengthy is April's plea asking people who approach Steve with endorsement deals to back off.

The amount of donations they have received has inspired the Vaughts to want to "pay it forward." April said she plans to sell a T-shirt with art designed by her husband, with the proceeds going to charity.

One of the latest journal entries on the Web site reports Vaught's weight is now 346 pounds.

Contact staff writer Gary Warth at gwarth@nctimes.com or (760) 740-5410.