Day One-Hundred-Sixty-Four, Samsung Sucks (10x Fast)

I woke again to rifle fire. It was still dark outside. Technically they are supposed to wait until the sun comes up. But when a big buck's sticking his tongue out at you it is awfully hard to wait.

I camp in the woods. Deer live in the woods. The hunters are out in force. Most, no doubt, are serious men who more or less know what they're doing. But all it will take is one idiot. Back and to the left.

It is not as if I am back country. I stick pretty close to the highway. "People know better," I asked a hunter, "than to shoot across the road?"

"Well..." was all he could say. I was not reassured.

He moon was very bright last night. You could all but read in my tent. Even in amongst the trees. I woke up several times. In order to see if I had to throw up. It turned out I did not. Not just yet, at any rate. The feeling has not yet passed.

I shot down a side road to Medina, Tennessee, another very small town. I thought I'd be dining on Pop-Tarts this morning but they did have a fine cafe. I had one of my biggest breakfasts. It was delightfully cheap. But I did not leave there wholly pleased. I'm having problems with my computer.

It sometimes refuses to charge itself, or to hold that charge when it does. I'm bleeding power from somewhere or other. It is driving me nuts. I spent two or three hours plugged in today when I would have preferred to be walking. I've got eleven hours of daylight to work with these days. It's getting harder to meet my quota.

Which is twenty miles, should it interest you. Any less and I feel ashamed. If I still had eighteen hours of sun, I'd be doing thirty I'm sure. I am stronger than ever, despite my complaints. Today I walked twenty-two. But it could and should have been twenty-five. Hey, Samsung, you suck.

Out of Medina I headed south, along the back roads for a while. The highways are rather nice around here, but this was the shorter route. There was no shoulder and some dump truck traffic. I worry about country dogs. A black lab puppy snuck behind me and barked. I almost pooped myself.

He had a big bark for a little dog. I gave him a piece of my mind. I hope I didn't hurt his wee puppy feelings. I think he was just having fun.

My battery being what it is, I did not dare check my map. Too much of that and I would not be able to type up my daily report. So I pointed myself to what I thought was the south and sullenly walked on.

There are plenty of towns around here. I really can't get lost. I've got my Pop-Tarts and I've got my tent. I am good for two or three days. Once when I got lost in Montana I thought I was going to die. Or kill the weasels at Google Maps who had sent me so far astray.

Not kill. I exaggerate. I do it for comic effect. I doubt I'd do more than glare at them or make fun of them until they cried.

It was my chief ambition to make it through Jackson. It is a proper city. I had conflicting reports about how far away it was. Turned out I discovered a shortcut. It took me right there. Just about when I thought I was lost I hit the city limits.

Which don't exactly put you downtown. They extend their limits as far as they can. That way they can collect more taxes and sell more building permits. I was still in the countryside, but at least I was on the right track.

Eventually I got to some new houses. Big ol' suburban places. With twin master bedrooms and three car garages. I can't imagine who's buying them. For the same price half a mile up the road you can get thirty or forty acres. You might have to live in a shack for a while, but it would be money well spent.

Onward and up and into town my little road narrowed some. And traffic got much heavier. There was no sidewalk at all. It was a little hairy but the weather was nice. It was in the high seventies today. Seventy-nine, said a bank clock, but they inflate their figures.

I walked the whole length of Jackson, Tennessee, population 65,000. On smaller streets, through neighborhoods. It is rather a jumble. Most of the houses I saw were quite old. A lot of them were fairly grand. But others among them are crumblng. They are all mixed together. There will be a series of mansions with circular driveways across from a check-cashing place. Or a muffler shop or a liquor store that closed ten years ago.

There are hills and trees and a whole lot of cars. There's a county and a federal courthouse. At length I reached the far edge of town. I walked on without stopping. I was on my wide highway again. I walked through two miles of countryside. Then the city of Jackson started all over again.

It was that same street you see in every reasonably sized city in America. A four-lane road with a turn lane or two, lined on both sides by junk. Carpet discounters and fast food shops. Strip malls and Walmarts and such. Car dealers and insurance offices and one or two Mexican restaurants. It went on and on and on for miles. At least there was a sidewalk.

I eventually stopped at a McDonald's. Hey, McDonald's, you suck. Your food, I mean. It was indeed a fairly good place to sit. I could refill my Coke. I don't know if it's allowed, but thet don't pay their people enough to yell at me. And I plugged my computer in to recharge. That charge did not take.

It is causing me all manner of stress. Really. It gnaws at me. One hates to grow repetitive but Samsung really really sucks. Sucks. Sucks sucks sucks. Sucks, I tell you. They suck. Or maybe it is those Droid weasels. I've got a power bleed somewhere. It is really making me angry, and anger doesn't become me at all.

Sweetness and light suit me beautifully. Always have.

I must have had some other adventures. I'm sure I gleaned an insight or two. But they are forever lost to the world. Because Samsung sucks. Find me now camped south of town on the very edge of a ravine. There is evidence that a hunter perched here not so very long ago. So long as they are shooting down and not up, I should be just fine.

I SAW my first cotton fields today. Fluffy. Even after the harvest. There is too a great deal of cotton along the edge of the road. Blown off trucks, I imagine, or maybe just loose in the wind. In either case, it's exotic to me, being a Yankee and all.

THE LADY at the register at a gas station refused to let me pay for my CocaCola. No discussion, no questions asked. Either I was the millionth customer, or she thought I was a hobo.

FORGIVE ME, I sent my Bible home. It was bulky in my pack. I already have a Bible but this one's inscribed my the Reverend Robert Waddle. I'll read it, I promise. When I get glasses. Or longer arms.

YOU'LL BE HAPPY to know I did learn something from my brush with this man of God. Fried baloney is good. Seriously. Try it and see if I'm wrong.

SAMSUNG sucks.

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Day One-Hundred-Fifty-Seven, Halloween

Bridge construction started at seven. I was already astir in my tent. It was very nearby but out of the way. If they saw me they didn't care. I thought of introducing myself, with an eye towards getting some coffee. But everyone seemed awfully busy. I packed up and moved on.

Two or three miles to the town of Thebes, along the Mississippi river. There were barges moving up and down. The river itself was glass smooth. When I crossed yesterday there were whitecaps and waves. That was more interesting. Here it was brown with miles of rusty trees lining the banks on both sides.

There are grey sand beaches too. I don't know if there are meant to be. Or if it's just the Army Corps of Engineers having fun like they do. No one here seems to want to live beside the river. You'd think they would like the view. I know it ain't quite Malibu but it's pretty in its way.

I had hoped to have breakfast in Thebes. Thebes isn't much of a town. The only store they have sells bait and very little else. There's a railroad bridge I wanted a picture of but I couldn't get an angle on it. Not without climbing down some jagged rocks. That's the Army Corps again.

Lewis and Clark spent their second night there, not twenty miles from where they began. Turned out paddling upriver was not as fun as they thought it would be. Though I'm guessing they did not paddle much themselves. They had their men to do that. I don't know how many but right about then they were thinking they might need some more.

I really had set my heart on breakfast. I didn't eat much yesterday. Nor had I taken the thoughtful precaution of filling my backpack with cheese. Illinois, I'd been sure, would take care of me, but it is nothing but strip clubs and swamps. And today a number of trees. Some of them are even yellow. It seems this year it got too cold too fast so they did not reach their full splendour.

I worried it would be twelve more miles until I got something to eat. Or very possibly twenty-four. I was a little sad. Certainly I've gone days without eating before, but I did not get much walking done. I tried to look hungry so some little boy would make a sandwich for me.

Secretly I was just a bit pleased. Some suffering is key. I don't know that I'll ever be proud of myself for Walking Across America. It has not been hard enough. I'm dropping weight like a refugee but I'm eating like Henry VIII. Starvation, I thought, should be part of it, if only for one token day.

Still I was not wholly displeased to find Olive Branch, Illinois. It was on my map but I had spaced it. It came as a nice little surprise. I was just a little late for breakfast but I ordered the biggest they had. I had starved in my heart and that was enough. It is the thought that counts.

Pancakes. I ain't really a fan. I liked them when I was a kid. But they were cheap and man-sized, big as frisbees and three-quarters of an inch thick. I finished them out of a stubborn pride, and with a kind thought to the hungry children in the world. But damn, they all but did me in. I'll be digesting them for days.

Olive Branch is a good two miles long. Not too many people live there. But there are a few shops and a small motel and no less than two cafes. And a tuxedo rental shop. Folks here like to look sharp. My waitress looked like Sarah Jessica Parker, before she got her hard edge.

I walked on feeling fairly content. It was again a beautiful day. Not many people live in southern Illinois. Most of it is a nature preserve. Federal, I believe. Mostly trees with the odd farm here and there. And swamps, of course. There are skeetery bugs. I kept an eye out for gators.

Traffic was light and there was a good shoulder and plenty of places to rest. Little roads disappearing into the trees where I could sit on my pack. You'd be surprised how very few such places there are on the roads of America. As often as not I'm perched in a ditch, weaving a hammock from snakes.

Some miles on I passed the spot where Lewis and Clark spent their first night. They had made even less progress on that day. From where I was standing it looked like they might have done better to walk. I don't know where they left from. Cairo, I suppose. That makes sense. It is on the Ohio and the Mississipi, though below the level of both.

I quit when I got to the edge of Cairo. I've got blisters on both my heels. Still I managed twenty-three miles. Not bad for a lazy day. I am camped on the edge of a soybean field, behind a dollar store. Dining on handfuls of Halloween candy and just a bit colder than I like to be.

It is a hell of a spot, really, and proof of my hobo skills. I spotted it from five miles away, before it even came into view. I saw the freeway, I saw the highway, I saw where the railroad was going. And knew there would be a little triangle just designed for my tent. Civilisation on all sides and invisible to the world.

HALLOWEEN is a stupid holiday. I know it's fun for the kids. Free candy. Nothing wrong with that. But sooner or later we all turn twelve and then your excuses are gone. Adults who enjoy dressing up in costumes need a talking to or a slap. And why designate a holiday devoted to all things creepy? Better we should celebrate the Beautiful. The world is ugly enough.

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On Photography

I ain't what you'd call a shutterbug. The only camera I have is the low-res one that comes with my tablet computer, and it is usually buried deep within my bag. When, for example, I met the bear, my first thought was to put some distance between us, not to unstrap my pack and spend five minutes digging for my camera.

So I have taken all of two photos so far. And had one or two more sent to me. I would be delighted to share them with you, but my tablet computer is less generous than I am. Someday, I promise, if your interest persists.

I have been writing of my adventures, more than most hoboes do. It does take a certain tenacity, typing as I am with my thumbs. So let me paint a picture of words. You've all seen bears before.

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