Day One-Hundred-Sixty-Nine, Wildlife

I didn't sleep at all well last night. It was cold and my back was sore. Which is just about what you might expect from sleeping in a tent. But it's usually not so bad. I expect this was just a fluke. Something to help me appreciate the comforts of hobo life.

At some point in the very wee hours I heard a blood-curdling scream. Like something out of a horror movie, not a half-dozen yards from my tent. I was startled but not frightened. It did gnaw at me some. I couldn't imagine what in God's nature could possibly sound like that.

Then it hoo-hooed, which suggests owl. That was a coyote trick. Other coyotes soon after answered. From all points on the compass. Near and far. I was surrounded. There must have been dozens of them. I left them to their foolishness and tried to fall back asleep.

Which I did eventually, but not as soundly as I would prefer. It was all I could do to crawl out of bed, late at seven o'clock. After what should have been ten hours' sleep. Only three or four really counted. It was the sort of morning where you don't feel like making your bed.

But I can't indulge in that luxury. Everything has to get packed up. It is tedious and oddly stressful. I'm never sure everything will fit. Add mud or rain or rifle fire and it gets to be no fun at all. At least the sun was up by then. I wasn't too awfully cold.

A ways up the road was a gas station. I could have walked by without coffee. But there was too a truckers' cafe. The Jake Break, I think it was called. The waitress was kind, as was everyone there. This is Mississippi. I ordered the Hungry Man Breakfast. Plus biscuits and gravy. Plus pie.

A boy has got to keep fed.

I spent an hour or two trying to fix my computer. It is worse than ever before. Any more I might say about that would not be fit to print.

From there it was on towards Booneville. I was making very good speed. It was neither warm nor cold. My legs were strong. I was listening to NPR. I bought a little radio in Corinth. It did not cost much at all. And it even works if I am careful to hold it at exactly the right angle.

Halfway there I split from my highway and picked up 145. Which is the road that used to be. It should take me to Tupelo. Where I hope to find a Verizon office. That's where they sell these things. And where they will tell me that they cannot help. And where I'll be cuffed for assault.

I stopped once on the edge of Booneville. This blasted computer again. And had me a gas station hamburger. The ladies who made it were nice. No great chefs, mind, but good people. I could refill my Coke for free. And did so until I got shivery and started hiking again.

To a Wendy's, not a mile up the road. I had another hamburger. Just to be polite. I needed somewhere to sit and plug in my computer again. Samsung, by the way, sucks, sucks. Make time to tell all your friends.

It was my good hope to get some miles in. It was a pretty good walking day. But with only an hour of daylight left I was five miles short of my quota. I thought about checking into a motel to work on my computer some more. But the one cheap place didn't have any phones. I do like to call my mother. Or have her call me. I am a good son, no matter what stories she tells.

Thirty bucks a night. Run by Indians. All the motels here are. I smell the incense and the lime pickles and it's like being in Delhi again. Which is no clear recommendation. Delhi is fairly unclean. And the service is spotty and the people are brusk. Lizards live under your bed.

Florida. It frightens me. It's being overrun by snakes. Rock pythons. They eat people. They've had alligators all along. It seemed like such a good idea. Seattle to Miami. Across this vast country diagonally. I'm having second thoughts. The best route down takes me through a stretch known as Alligator Alley. Somehow I don't like the sound of that. It sounds vaguely gatory.

Booneville, by the way, was a pretty big town. How big I cannot now say. I daren't waste power looking it up. Samsung, you should all know, sucks. It was getting quite dark when I got out of town. It went on for miles and miles.

Then there was a stretch of really big houses, deep among acres of land. Then medium houses on five acre lots. Then small houses jowl to cheek. Then the medium houses again. Then some trailer parks. Then I crossed a highway. By then it was dark. I thought about turning around.

Or walking all the way through the night, but there are some narrow bridges. It wouldn't do for me to get sqooshed. What would the gators eat? So I relied on my hobo skills. I found a wonderful spot. By the light of the moon, diffused by clouds. I really do have a gift.

I'm in a bowl, surrounded by river. I'm sure it is sometimes a pond. But the banks will protect me from rifle fire and hide me from passing cars. I may have some trouble getting out of here. And I'll get awfully wet if it rains. But it was just what I needed when I needed it and I found it in the dark.

It will be in the fifties tonight. I'm not too far bundled up. And I can leave my windows open which really helps dry my tent. I hear crickets and owls and passing trucks. There are varmints in the underbrush. And the coyotes are howling not too far off. I should sleep just fine.


I CAN'T spell Mississippi without chanting the letters to myself. I always put an extra 'S' in the middle. It just seems so much more rhythmical that way. Then I have to go back and erase it.

"PEOPLE THINK hillbillies are white, but there are black hillbillies, too."

I COULD really go for some Indian food. A fellow gets tired of burgers. But consistent and predictable digestion is the key to a successful walk.

SAMSUNG sucks.

Published with Blogger-droid v1.7.4