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I availed myself of the free continental breakfast. Of that I have little to say. They were very kind to me at the EconoLux. It's the finest hotel in the world. But I feel for those folks on the continent. They really don't eat so well.
Even with my quick start I was in my room until a minute past checkout time. I couldn't help it. It was so warm in there. I could not tear myself away. I was on my bed watching the Weather Channel, entertaining dark thoughts. The sunshine they've been promising me for days did not appear on their radar.
It was foggy outside and threatening rain. It remained that way all day. No doubt the black clouds were up there somewhere, hovering just out of sight. It was not too too cold but it was windy. I walked over to the mall.
Norfolk, Nebraska is a goodish town, home to twenty-four thousand people. Which is, comparatively speaking, a metropolis and the biggest town I've been in for months. In the small towns they're inclined to welcome me, as a curiosity if nothing else. In Norfork I felt a little bit silly walking around with my pack. And my baggy clothes and my safety hat and my own version of a beard. Children stopped and stared open mouthed until their mothers hustled them away.
I felt sillier still in a shopping mall. Malls have their own set of rules. People dress up to go shopping, whether they admit it or not. What's worse is that though I was thoroughly bathed, I was wearing my same stinky clothes. Anyone wondering if I was a hobo need only have taken a whiff.
It is a small mall. I went to every shoe store, then every shoe store in town. No joy. The shoes I am wearing are melting right off my feet. They are not paining me or upsetting my stride, but I fear they may be on the verge of what the engineers call a Catastrophic Failure.
Duck tape. Duct tape. Zip ties and paste. Spit and baling wire. I'll MacGyver 'em if I have to. I'm going to be just fine.
I very much hate shopping for shoes. I know some people think it is fun. Women, I believe they are called. They're awful pretty but still. I can easily think of three or four things that I would rather do. Not least because new shoes bring with them a new hundred miles of pain. And they cost a lot more than anything should that wears out after a month.
Giving up on shoes I hiked to the laudromat. It is nice to have clean clothes. And it was warm in there. There were little kids zooming around on the carts. I have very faint memories of being bored out of my skull at laundromats. They are no place for children. But I've got to say I quite like them now. They're warm. There are chairs. It is soothing. And you meet the nicest folks, often a segment of the population you will not see anywhere else.
By then I figured it was time to eat. I popped into a bar for a burger. And thirteen Cokes, more out of habit than in any reflection of thirst. Nebraska was playing the Washington Huskies in some sort of football game. It is huge around here; everyone on the street wears red in support of their team. I actually attended the University of Washington. I didn't give a rat's ass who won.
Though now I hope that it was the Washington Huskies. Football fans give me the creeps. It is an asinine game, too slow of pace, that glorifies man at his worst. Baseball may be every bit as dull, but at least it is gentlemanly.
Then it was time to get out of Dodge. It was by then four p.m. If I'd stuck around a minute longer I knew I'd be back in the motel. I just can't afford it, money or time. I only wish that I could. I'll spent my last and best years watching TV with a banjo in my lap.
I headed up 275 in the cold and the fog and the wind and the dark. For no good Christian reason it had gone to four lanes, with no shoulder at all. That meant I had to walk in the grass with the prickle burrs and the snakes. The latter of which are frozen stiff, but they crunch unpleasantly under foot.
I crossed a river and the landscape changed. There were all at once hills and trees. That always makes me a little uneasy. I get used to things as they are. And I lose my rhythm in these big cities. I was sure I'd find no place to camp.
And the fog was getting thicker. It was getting dark. To the side I saw a sign, ROAD CLOSED. Some unpaved farm road, off into the trees. It should have said, JAMES! CAMP HERE!
So I did. It was only after I got my tent up that I realised it was just 5:30. Oops. I could have walked another ten miles. But it is raining now and I'm snug and well-fed. We'll worry about walking tomorrow.
NORFOLK is pronounced "Norfork" by old-timers, "Norfolk" by the newer breed. I was for a long time uncertain which one was correct. I was reluctant to pronounce it at all. I would call it "Uh, you know, that town up the road" or contract it into something like "Norf'uck". Which was embarrassing for everyone. Nobody knows how I suffer.
I PASSED a farmers' market, on the way to the mall and bought some fancy bread. And some zucchini bread from a very old woman. She was charging two dollars a loaf. It has to cost her twice that much to bake it and bring it to town. Damn it's good. I should have bought more, but I did not want to bankrupt the gal.
JOHNNY CARSON grew up here. He is still highly regarded. For our international friends, he is like our Winston Churchill.
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