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Find me back in my tent in my red wooly hat. It is good to be back in the woods. I've been too long indoors. It's not good for me. I'm lost when I am not walking.
Life is about defining yourself. You decide what you are. Whether you're pretty or bad at math. Whether you're happy or sad. Republican or Democrat. Most of that's left up to you. I am a Walker Across America. That is a good thing to be.
When I stop I am nothing at all. It takes away my reason to be. It makes it harder to make new friends. My cookies don't taste as good. Carb-loading and gluttony meet on the finest of lines.
Now I'll have to stop walking eventually. Soon enough I'll hit the sea. And it will be rough. I'll need a new plan. I may get depressed for a while. But I'll climb my way out; I always do. It might even be easier this time.
I have come maybe fifteen short miles. I didn't leave town until noon. Or one o'clock or thereabouts. It was an awfully late start. But the weather was clear and balmy warm. Florida is Florida again.
I had bold plans to leave early. I was thinking six o'clock. But we all know that was not going to happen. I did not fall asleep until five. I have been what the doctor's call "under the weather." Somebody poisoned me.
You would say I have flu symptoms Or maybe a really bad cold. But these minor illnesses cannot hurt me. I am a superman. I suspect arsenic poisoning, or maybe something bubonic. Something that would kill an ordinary man. I got by with a tummy ache.
But I'm better now, thank you so much for asking. I'm not at one-hundred percent. My legs are just a little sore and I'm feeling a wee bit congested. My pack too was heavy as hell. That may be my own fault. I strapped it on and looked in the mirror. I had never seen it before. Damn, but it's big. What was I thinking. Sometimes it's best not to know.
I've left my highway 90 behind. I'm now on 27. Which is not vastly different but I don't know. It may be too soon to say. It is leading me through a forest of sorts. There are fewer pine trees here. There are a lot more leafy trees. Many with hanging moss. Which rather adds to that hobbity vibe I so enjoyed last week.
I'm out of Tallahassee but my next town is two days off. I have no idea what I'll eat tomorrow. I am not carrying food. Twice I stocked up and twice I ate up everything that I had. It was getting expensive. I was getting fat. I decided to play it by ear. I'm sure there's a gas station up there somewhere. It is a pretty big road. And a benevolent God would not let me starve, despite my sinful nature.
I found a brilliant place for my tent. That's important on my first day back. Hobo skills go rusty quick. Most of it is about being bold. And a fellow gets timid living indoors. You've got to assert yourself. You can't let the gators push you around. They'll make you their bitch.
I watched a show about gators on cable TV. They're actually sort of cute. They have nice smiles and I like how they walk. I'm not going to tell them that. You know they'd just be insufferable. They are the vainest of creatures. They spend half their lives gazing at their reflections, and the other half murdering blameless pedestrians.
My new sleeping pad is doing its job. I'm not sure how long it will last. The instructions recommend a "smooth, flat surface." I don't know where they do their camping. In gymnasiums and hockey rinks. It's bumpy and sharp where I am.
But I'm well, thank you. I'll leave you here. I am awfully sleepy. And I've got a long walk ahead of me if I ever want to eat again.
Goodnight.
"HEY, HOBO!" -- a hobo greeting. Really.
A FELLOW AT a gas station gave me spare change. Seventy cents or so. Score!
DENNIS SAID the reason Chattahoochee is so nice is because they make the mental patients keep everything clean and look after the gardens. I expect they tell them it's therapy. Poor psychotic bastards.
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