Day One-Hundred-Eighty-Eight, Bre'er James

Where to camp.  Before I left home, that was my chief cause of stress.  And remains so, especially now that it gets dark quickly and soon.  But it is too some of the best fun I have, now that I've got hobo skills.  It's a point of pride the clever places I've found to put up my tent.

Find me now in a briar patch.  Sometimes I outthink myself.  But it was getting dark and I am very close to Mobile, Alabama.  In fact it was dark when I got up my tent.  I had some yard work to do.  Clearing a four-by-seven foot patch with an off-brand multi-tool.

The pliers work best.  They don't do all the work.  I'm fairly riddled with thorns.  And I am going to have the damnedest time getting back to the road.

I always do.  I always forget how I got in there in the first place.  Short-term memory loss, they call it.  I don't care; I've got my wits.  I'll figure it out.  I'm not new at this.  I've camped in briar patches before.

It is supposed to be some degrees warmer tonight.  Between you and me, I'm not feeling it.  If anything, I'd say it was colder.  Confound these winter gods.  They won't be happy until my throat is all scritchy and my beard is matted with snot.

I had some trouble falling asleep last night.  It was less the cold than the pain.  Life in a tent is no feather bed at even the best of times.  But I had been walking all day with a limp.  That will send the whole system askew.  New muscles kick in to compensate.  I was feeling it as far north as my shoulders.  Which just as quickly infected my neck.  Which soon enough addled my brain.

Everything works when everything works.  I am but one vast machine.  With clockwork gears and valves and pistons, to extend a metaphor too far.  But I was better today.  I'm running like a top.  More or less.  It could have been worse.

I was slowish getting back on the road.  I was not sure I'd get fed.  So I set off expecting the worst and got a bit better than that.  I found Dottie's Country Store in Gulf Crest, a town they leave off most maps.  But they took me in and filled me with coffee and cellophane donuts and chat.

Dottie's the boss.  She's been married to Harvey for pert-near 46 years.  And God bless her for it; he's an ornery old cuss.  He was very kind to me.  They let me sit in and talk at them for almost two hours.  I met their regular customers and Daisy, their silly little dog.  Four-and-a-half pounds of viciousness that is hard to take seriously.

You can be cute or you can be tough.  Few of us manage both.  I am but a rare exception, in this and other things.

Dottie has gone and got herself robbed.  They shot her poor son in the face.  Without any permanent damage.  It did derail his life.  He quit drinking and fighting and settled down.  He gave over his life to the Lord.  He took it as a sort of a sign.  I can see how you might.

If someone shot me in the face I know what I'd do.  I'd scream like a little girl.

When I left they loaded me down with pecans.  Dottie shells them herself.  I don't know that I've ever been any place where you can pull nuts right off trees.  Thailand, I guess, and California.  Parts of Oregon, maybe.  Still, I really like the concept.  I want my own pecan tree.

Pecan pie, by the way, can be very good, but don't think it's some ancient tradition.  It was invented not too awfully long ago as a scheme to sell more Karo syrup.  Stand informed.

I left Dottie's in a jolly mood.  I tell you, I am easy to manage.  All you've got to do is be nice to me and I can do anything.  Be mean and I will squish you like a bug.  By God I will. 

But as for Walking Across America, a little kindness goes an awfully long way.  One random stranger wishing me luck and I'll be lucky all day.  I took off like rocket.  Lucky I did.  It was a fairly hard walk.  I have been on Highway 45 for weeks, in all of its iterations.  From four-lane divided to country road.  It is narrow here.  But heavily travelled.  There's no shoulder to speak of.  I spent much of my time in the ditch.  Which means I have to step higher and cross rougher ground.  And keep my eyes wide open.

I lunched at Cheapo's in Chunchula.  At least I think that's what it's called.  I am in no position to look it up.  Because Samsung sucks.

Burger again.  I swear I've lost the taste.  I did manage to get fed.  And they were all very nice to me.  They gave me the last piece of peach cobbler.  Someone had boxed it up.  To take home after work, one supposes.  I'm sorry; I needed it more.  It is cake and pie and Love which sustains me.  I need all I can get.

I hammered out another six or seven miles.  I'm sure walking strong these days.  I've got aches and pains.  One bad toe.  My backpack is killing me.  I guess the point is I'm used to it.  And the sun shines.  The Gulf Coast is less than ten miles off.  Which means that in the most generous terms, I have Walked Across America.

Now it's your turn.

BRRR.

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