Day Thirty-Eight, Independence Day

On this day in 1776 our Founding Fathers adopted the Declaration of Independence. They declared independence a couple dys before. It took a while to get it all written up. That task fell to Thomas Jefferson, although he had to incorporate everyone's ideas. It still has a very nice flow. I would have failed in Jefferson's shoes. I am not a collaborative writer.

I woke up in front of my own log cabin, high overlooking the river. The trains were closer than I'd thought they would be. I could have hit one with an apple. I slept well and soundly but woke up too soon. With the sun it gets blasted hot. At nights, however, it is frosty cold. I wear a stocking hat. And long underwear and I pull my bag's zipper all the way to the top.

And when I wake up it is zooming past eighty outside and I have to strip naked to save myself. And because it is fun. Being naked out of doors is one of my new favorite things. It is not my very favorite thing, you understand. But it is right up there in the top fifty.

But I had walking to do and I suited up and was back on the road by 9:30. It was going to be a trying day because I had to walk thirteen miles to get my next food and water. I try to keep it well below five. But the towns are fairly well-spaced around here. I had just enough water but nothing to eat but one of those organic energy bars I've been hauling around since Idaho.

They are unspeakably foul, all "brown rice protein" and other things fresh from the earth. They are vegan-friendly and fair-trade certified and look, smell and taste just like turds. They've taken their philosophy full circle. What's more organic than a turd?

The inorganic protein bars are not vastly better. Pop-tarts are where it's at. They are a bit crumbly but they are vitamin-fortified and you can get a whole box for the price of one nasty little protein bar. They come in hundreds of flavors and are about the best deal in the shop. Only problem is I keep eating them up and forgetting to get more.

I walked that 13 miles almost non-stop. It is my usual practice to follow forty minutes of walking with a three or four hour rest. But I was afraid I'd die out there so I did my best to keep moving. There was no shade to speak of and I was afraid to leave the road because I kept seing bull snakes which, though fairly good-natured as snakes go, are big enough to eat a cat. Though they prefer rattlesnake.

Every Marine I've met so far, and every vagrant, has made a special point to tell me that rattlesnakes are "good eatin." Their eyes light up when they talk about it. I think I've seen one or two drool. Bunch o' weirdos.

I will have to learn to be up with the dawn. The sun was high and hot. I guess it was in the mid-eighties. It didn't bother me much. One summer when I was in India it got up to 126. Anything less makes me laugh.

I did get fairly sunburnt, though. That is all part of my plan. I want to create a layer of precancerous tissue on my arms and face so I won't have to use sunscreen. It turns my beard white, don't you know. That cannot be forgiven.

I was very strong today. My feet are quite unbandaged. Up and down hills, the mileswere just clicking away. About halfway through that first thirteen I rounded a bend and the horizon wad filled with what are unmistakably the Rocky Mountains. Not foothills or Bitterroots but the old boys themselves, thickly covered with snow. They are high and jagged. Bring 'em on, I say.

Thirteen miles brought me to Dixon, represented by a saloon. An old cowboy place, narrow and dusty, presided over by a no-nonsense woman called Joanne. They did not serve food but Miss Joanne grumbled at me and produced a heaping plate of fried chicken and potater salad. Happy Fourth of July!

The only other customer was drunk beyond reason. He bought me two cans of Pepsi. He said I could use his shower and smoke his pot, which I thought was very civil of him. But he was just too drunk to deal with. I would have liked to hear more of his stories. He had a very funny one about shooting up stolen penicillin, thinking it was morphine. "Every scar on my body lit up."

From there it was six hot but remarkably painless miles to Ravalli, where I had a burger and two beers. The beer was served by Calvin who owns the one saloon. He is a Salish Indian. An old cowboy told us funny stories about bronc riding and whorehouses in Mexico. Norman Rockwell could not have better pictured America.

I am not sad to have missed the fireworks, but I would have liked to see a parade or a rodeo Montanans, it seems, take their Fourths of July very seriously. I would have very much liked to have made it to Arlee today, where they are having a pow wow, which as I understand it is a sort of county fair with drums and dancing. No liquor and fireworks, though. Apparently they learned that lesson the hard way.

Call it twenty-plus miles today. Calvin told me about a fantastic camping spot. I had to climb a gate to get in here but I feel very much at home. I can hear the highway but they can't see me. I hear too a distant drumming. This is beautiful country, my favorite bit yet. I am just a little bit hungry. In a perfect world I'd have the strength to hike back to the bar for an egg roll or something.

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