Day Nine, Calling Wolf

This is the third time I'm typing this, now from a library in Leavenworth, Washington.  One envies the brave pioneers.  Their roads were rougher and they had fewer mini-marts in those days, but they did not have to cope with the perils of wireless technology.

Anyway, day nine... I woke up early, having slept comparatively well.  I was in a good mood if a bit undernourished and my pack felt surprisingly light.  For the first three miles or so, not much longer than that, I wondered if I had not forgotten my tent.

Well before noon I made it to Cole's Corner, my first civilisation for days.  I don't know if it is a proper town, or just some fellow called Cole promoting himself, but in either case it is home to the famous 59er Diner, a pink and turquoise, Naugahydey, poodle-skirty sort of place, with old license plates and Elvis on the walls.  It seems to be doing well in the hands of a shamelessly flirty, delightfully outgoing woman whom I know only as Flo, assisted by a number of strikingly beautiful young women in short shorts, also called Flo.  It is a paradise.

It did for a while make me wish I were in love, or yet entitled to that emotion.  There's a lot to be said for not being in love, of course.  It's liberating.  But I hope you know what I mean.  All alone I enjoyed a hearty breakfast and a slab of blackberry something-or-other which Flo insisted was not pie but was plenty close enough for me.  With ice cream.  When I left the chief Flo gave me a fabulous sandwich for the road, and a good-natured, attractive, outdoorsy couple two tables down picked up my check, which was awfully nice of them.  It made my heart go pitty-pat.

I wish I had longer to talk to Flo. She fascinated me. I suspect she is burdened by a profound intelligence, and a burden it is, I am told. Sometimes it is easier just to be pretty. Outside and just down the road a piece, I ran into Lee, poor Lee, that noblest of souls, who, having taken too much to heart my reckless claim to be "starving to death", assumed I was starving to death and, conspiring with Pauline, his lovely bride, put together the most magnificent care package, filled with all manner of delicacies, and brought it up on his bike.  I have not yet had the honor of meeting Pauline but I can picture her.  She is a flower and it is worth noting she was once almost eaten by a bear.

Thanks, guys. Really. I am in your debt.

Loaded up with all things good and feeling uncharacteristically cheerful, I was in great shape to make good time, but somewhere along the line I got distracted. I ran into a friendly fellow called Wood, drinking beer outside a service station. "Have a beer," says he. "No, thank you," say I. He became at once very solemn. "Please," he says, "It would mean a lot to me. I would consider it a personal favor."

Now you see my dilemma. I had to keep my head clear if I was going to make it to Leavenworth that day, but after all of the kindnesses I have received in the past several days, it would not be sporting to deny him this simple request. So I took off my pack and sat down. We drank and talked and talked and drank. This fellow was easy to like. He is a Marine, a truck driver, and a whitewater rafting guide. He has a quick smile and tells good stories and with one glance I knew he could mash me into paste. And he knew it and there was an unspoken understanding that it would not in this case be necessary. Friendships have been based on less.

So two hours later, bloated and woozy, I continued on down my road. When I left Mr. Wood gave me an enormous knife to help protect me from bears. Not one of those silly, pot-metal substitutes they sell at the Korean grocers, either, but a proper hunting knife. I think it is the kind OJ used. I don't know if it is exactly legal but I wore it on my belt. It made feel like a mountain man. It reaches almost to my knee. I put it to work clearing a space for my tent when I stopped next to the river, six miles short of my goal. A late end to a long weary day, I was just glad to get some sleep. I kept hold of my knife. If a bear came knocking I would use it to slash a new door in my tent and run away.

Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.9