Day One-Hundred-Ninety-Five, Late Than Never

WIt is not, contrary to popular rumor, Day 195 at all.  Technical problems, don't you know.  It's the morning of Day 196.  But it's not too late.  I can still just recall the magic of yesterday.

It was cold, dammit.  At least in the morning.  I hadn't slept too awfully well.  I shivered some and tossed and turned.  I was haunted by awful dreams.  In one the woman I loved married an idiot, fat with Art Garfunkel hair.  Because he owned five electric razors.  God only knows what it means.  In another an aligator ate my cat.  That one is easier to interpret.

It's no fun at all packing up in the cold.  There are all kinds of zippers and snaps.  All designed to send new kinds of pain shooting through my icy fingers.  But I managed.  I always do.  There was a gas station a quarter mile away.  Too far to do me much imkediate good, but I did not have to wait for my coffee.

And a breakfast biscuit at the attached Arby's.  I bought one more for a stranger.  A genuine hobo in real need.  He rather put me to shame.  I get treated like a hobo a lot these days.  It's an impression I've been inclined to forgive.  But sitting side by side I look for all the world like a soft living kid from the suburbs.

Which I am, but my hobo friend overlooked it.  I guess he just thought I was new.  And offered me all sorts of useful advice, none of which I hope to soon use.  A lot of it had to do with eating garbage and getting the best bunk in jail.  And defending yourself from the kinds of folks who beat up hobos just for fun.  And steal their shit.  Many are cops.  The worst of them, he says, are in Florida.

Which is where I'm headed at long awful last.  It took me a while to find my road.  I spent a day or two zig-zagging about.  I out-thunk myself.  I got too creative.  I put some faith in Google Maps.  Until I finally admitted defeat and settled onto 90 east.

I-90 will take you all the way to Seattle.  I've crossed it on this walk several times.  I even walked it a bit in Montana.  It's your most efficient route across the US.  But this ain't I-90.  This is State Highway 90.  It's a different beast altogether.

It is two lanes wide with no shoulder.  I spent most of my day in the ditch.  Wading through tall grass over very rough ground.  I'm feeling it in my weary old knees.  There was too a psychic cost.  I've developed an unreasonable fear of gators.  I cringe at each shredded tire.

Or rotted stump or beer bottle.  That's the thing about gators.  They hide.  They blend into their environment.  That's how you know they're there.  If you can't see them you're as good as dead.  I tell you, it has raised my pulse.

I'm told they won't eat you all at once.  First they drag you to their pond.  And hold you underwater until you get thirsty.  Then they stuff you somewhere.  And let you rot for a week or two.  Then they sip you through a straw.  Or a length of reed or what they have handy.  They grind your bones to make their bread. 

There is too the threat of fire ants, "far ain'ts" if you prefer.  I'm quick.  They ain't manage to get me yet, but there sure are a lot of them.  And mean as badgers, the arsonists.  They've got a hill every ten feet.  They may be the only thing there is keeping the gators in line.

I hiked as far as Elsanor, a wide spot in the road.  There are two gas stations, one closed, one running.  I was delighted to find they had food.  Real food.  Chicken gumbo with corn bread and turnip greens.  I ate a mountain of it and I ate it fast.  It was getting dark.

I'll tell you one thing about chicken gumbo.  It digests at the speed of light.  I was suffering severe abdominal cramps by the time I got up my tent.  Or got it half up.  I had to pause the procedure.  I had some business to do.  Oh, Lordy.  It could have been ugly.  It is lucky no one got hurt.

"Too cold for gators," or so I've been told.  I guess they hibernate.  The question is where.  I still feel nervous setting up my tent in the woods.  I think some of them just sleep in the woods.  I slept right on top of one.  I thought it was a log.  It messed up my back.  Gators are ornery critters.

And here I am, miles down the road in the small town of Seminole.  On the state line.  I'm at the gas station.  It's where I enjoyed my breakfast.  A proper breakfast.  At a gas station.  I couldn't have been better pleased.  And the nice lady at the counter called me Sweet Pea a dozen times.

I FORGOT TO mention the pelicans.  They are my new favorite bird.  Or second, after penguins.  They are just as ridiculous, but not nearly as well dressed.

LAST NIGHT the whole sky was sunset, not just a patch in the east.  All fluffy pink clouds on a baby blue sky.  Florida.  Miami Vice.

Published with Blogger-droid v2.0.1

Day 195 Coming Soon!

Samsung sucks.

Published with Blogger-droid v2.0.1

Day One-Hundred-Ninety-Four, Jurassic Park

Find me at a Subway ( ! ) in Spanish Fort, Alabama, a few short miles from where I set up my tent.  It is well before nine, yet breakfast time, but it is best that I start typing now.  I no longer have the battery power to unleash it all in one spurt.

I woke up betimes after ten hours' sleep.  It was long overdue.  Indoor living was taking its toll.  I was of the Walking Dead.  I would not, in fact, have much minded another two or three hours.  But a boy's got to walk.  This ain't no disco.  This ain't no fooling around.

It did wind up raining last night.  There were unmistakable signs.  But I was not swept out to sea.  I didn't even get wet.  But it did enliven the sand at my feet and gritted up all of my gear.  And there was a robust wind which added some challenge to packing up my tent.  It came close to being swept out to sea.  I'd have missed it.  It's buggy here.

And not as warm as I wish it were.  Still I've suffered worse.  I was congratulating myself on a very fine spot for my tent.  My own little island between the sea and a swamp, inaccessible to modern man.

That is until I passed an alligator on my way back up to the road.  Rather startled me, he did, and he was thoroughly dead.  About four feet long with a malevolent grin.  I hadn't known there were gators here.  "Oh, there are hundreds," says the lady who made my breakfast.  Live and learn, what.

I think I could have taken him in a fair fight.  He might have chewed me up some.  But I'm hoping it will never come to that.  I am a Man of Peace.

I think I've left them behind for a while.  I made it across the bay.  And up a steep hill to Spanish Fort.  There are nice views up here.  But on the whole it's another fresh suburb.  It would not look out of place near Seattle.  I am thankful to be on dry land again.  I'm back to more familiar terrain.  Gators are just so much spice.  I'm told there are black bears too.

***************

Not nearly enough miles further up the road.  I had to stop and plug in my computer.  Certainly you could live without these reports, but I very much needed to check my map.  I got all kinds of turns on unnamed roads.  It would be easy to get lost back here.  But a good deal harder to find myself.  Follow the gator tracks.

I was nearly murdered by some ass in a Prius, gibbering on his phone.  I doubled back to find him at a light.  He was gone by the time I got there.  Which is better for both of us.  I was going to pound him to mush.

Which is not what you want from your Man of Peace.  I still think it's the Right Thing to Do.  To stop him before he runs someone down, or at least make him earn the right.

A Prius.  Damn.  You expect that behaviour from mini-vans and monster trucks.  But it's hard to be a Liberal in America today.  We must hold ourselves to a higher standard.  What kind of mileage do you think you'll get dragging me under your car?  Will you be able to speak for our noble cause if you're missing most of your teeth?  Would it make me feel at all better about myself, beating up some scrawny little dork?

Yes.  Yes, it would.  Murder me at your peril.

I had lunch not too long after breakfast.  Fried fish.  It was disgusting.  Long life in Japan has made me a fish snob.  They do it much better than us.  Their babies are cuter.  We're better at baseball.  But just barely.  We'd better look sharp.

***************

I've had time to cool.  I no longer want to pound that boy into mush.  I'd be content just to scare him a bit.  Maybe break his nose.

***************

I've never spent much time chatting on cell phones myself, but I know what you're talking about.  You'd have us believe you're trading stock or discussing philosophy.  Or putting in that all important call to the poison control center.  But we both know that isn't the case.  You're talking mindless shit.  You're an idiot and so's your friend on the other end of the phone.  Hang up and watch the goddamn road.

***************

Well today was a wasted day.  I did get some exercise.  Walking dozens of miles out of my way on the back roads of Alabama.  Google sent me on a goose chase or two.  To one road that didn't exist.  And to another shut up tight with a gate and a third where the bridge was out.  I was trying to steer wide around Pensacola.  That is not going to happen.  I walked all day in order to get about four miles from where I began.

Poop.

It is meant to be cold tonight.  It is going to freeze.  Which would not so very much bother me if it weren't for last Thursday night.  North of Mobile.  The experts all said it was going to be thirty-seven.  It bottomed out at minus thirteen.  I've never been so cold in my life.

If that happens again I'm going to be cranky.  It was not just that unhappy night.  There was too the awful morning and packing up a frozen tent.  Literally frozen.  I was afraid to fold it.  I was sure it was ging to crack.  Like a rose dipped in liquid nitrogen.  My toes were fragile as well.  As were my fingers and every bit that in any way protrudes.  If that happens again I'm going to hitchhike.  All the way to Belize.

And I must say this gator has me upset.  I've been complaining about them for weeks.  But it was for me an academic exercise.  I never thought I was going to see one.  This changes everything.  Remember the Seventies?  Back then the damned things were going extinct.  Who's bright idea was it to bring them back?  Prehistoric lizards running amok.  What a stupid idea.

Cold, nearly killed, a long wasted day, you might think my mood is sour.  Not really.  I've been worse off.  Lemme post this while I still can.

Published with Blogger-droid v2.0.1

Technical Difficulties

I'll do my best to avoid it, but I may disappear for a day or two.  Battery problems, don't you know.  Samsung, God love 'em.

Published with Blogger-droid v2.0.1

Day One-Hundred-Ninety-Three, Brothels I Have Known

It has been a while since I've slept in my tent.  I had all but forgotten the joys.  And the sorrows of outdoor life.  I have been off the road for four days.  And managed to upset one or two people.  They were convinced I was dead.

I'm not.  I apologise.  I did not mean to cause you undue concern.  I was just having trouble keeping up with my blog.  Indoor life wears me out.  And gives me too much time to think about how I might bolt my sentences together.  It makes it hard to write.

I did have the wits to notify my mother.  One would hate to upset the old bird.  Last time I went to ground for two days she threatened to call the police.  As if I don't get enough of their fawning attention.  They're all over me as it is.  I would just as soon not be cuffed and beaten at my mother's behest.

More likely than not, I will survive this adventure.  I was not always so sure.  I figured my chances at 50/50 on the day I left home.  It wasn't something I thought much about.  Still I expected to die.  I wonder why it did not bother me a good deal more than it did.

Snakes, bears, murder gangs.  I did not imagine specifics.  Strange, though, that I'm still around now.  Today was my most dangerous day yet.

I left my motel at eleven or so.  I was not sorry to go.  The Motel 6 in Mobile, Alabama serves as a brothel of sorts.  And a gathering place for crackheads and thugs.  Tom Bodett ought to blush.  A fellow takes his life in his hands every time he steps out for ice.

I did meet a lovely naked girl.  She seemed to like me a lot.  And proposed a sort of business arrangement.  Now it was my turn to blush.  Which she insisted was very charming.  That made me blush even more.  You might have thought me more worldly, but I'm fairly pure of heart.

I had to zig-zag out of Mobile.  So said Google Maps.  That city is built on the edge of the sea and there were only two ways out.  The interstate is off-limits to me which meant I had to head north.  Through what everyone has been glad to tell me is "the most dangerous part of town."

And I didn't just shoot through it either.  I took the scenic route.  Google Maps does not seem to care if I get drive-byed or not.  But I was fine.  I'm new in town.  I have no enemies.  And I may even have a friend or two.  A few people stopped by to talk.

"Whatever you have to do, make sure you get out of here before dark."

Which was in fact my only intention.  I had bridges to cross.  And traffic to negotiate.  It's the cars that scare me the most.  Mobile is a big busy town, and not designed for pedestrians.  I cannot run and carry my pack and I had some big streets to cross.

I was only lost once.  I had taken the time to write my directions down.  Six or ten miles took me to a bridge, the tallest I've been over yet.

Cochrane Bridge, it calls itself.  Man, was it up in the sky.  I wouldn't have made it yesterday through all of the rain and fog.  There was a good wide shoulder, but I could not make good use of it.  I was walking near traffic to keep away from the shoulder which was about ankle high.

I'm sure there were some great views from up there.  I did not waste time looking around.  I had one glance and from what I could telll, Mobile is a good looking town.  With lots of trees and sea-driven mists.  They have a modern downtown.  With one big pointy building and one little pointy building and one medium-sized boxy thing.  And a vast seaport and some lovely homes and a Waffle House on every corner.

I did not hit the Waffle House today.  I could not afford the time.  I've had nothing to eat but two bottles of Coke and a selection of Hostess products.  Bought from bait shops and gas stations.  I'm working on a significant wooze.  

Over the bridge is an industrial park.  There I had trucks to dodge.  And fumes to inhale.  It was a trafficky walk with not much shoulder at all.  I had to walk in the grass with the "far ain'ts," a powerful local menace.  They'll kill you just as soon as look at you.  And then burn down your house.

I was still nervous about my road.  I wasn't sure I could get over the bay.  And I'm still not sure but I'm less concerned.  Find me on an island in the middle.  Camped just off the Causeway at a wide spot in the road, about four inches above sea level.  If it so much as drizzles tonight I will be swept out to sea.

Still it's a testament to my hobo skills.  Not everyone would have found this spot.  But I still had two long narrow bridges to go and it was getting dark.

"It's a blessing to be on the water like this."  So said a man on the road.  And no doubt it is.  It's beautiful here, down on the edge of the sea.  There are seafood restaurants and places to fish, but for the most part it's a long strip of road.  Interspersed with dangerous bridges, a mile or two out in the bay.  But I haven't had much time to look around.  I'm just trying not to get squished.

I SPENT A WEEK in a brothel in Bangkok.  I thought it was a hotel.  My next hotel was also a brothel.  What are the odds? I wondered.  Not as steep as you'd guess.

CHEERS to Miss Tiffany, the usurer, who let me plug in at her loan office.  I was cheered by your smile.

Published with Blogger-droid v2.0.1

Days 189, 190, 191 and 192, Kidnapped!

Kidnapped, yes.  Abducted, if you will.  Plucked right off the street.  Bundled into a late model car and driven across state lines.  In broad daylight, no less.  Mobile, Alabama can be a pretty rough town.

It amounted to a four-day holiday.  I had a very nice time.  As a guest of Ronné and Dennis Knighten.  They drove all the way from Florida.  And carted me all the way with them.  God knows what they had in mind.  I think they were trying to see how much I can eat.  I hope I did not let them down.

Friday morning I woke up cold, as cold as I've ever been.  In a briar patch, you may just recall.  Eight miles north of Mobile.  My tent was iced over inside and out.  I couldn't feel my toes.  My fingers were brittle and actively hurt.  It was an awful morning.

That improved somewhat when I got back on the road.  I had a good walk into town.  Up and down some steep narrow roads, carved through thick rows of trees.  To a Waffle House for luck.  Then to a Verizon shop.  And then to another.  I like to visit them all.  I think I owe it to them.

The second was a corporate store.  The other was a mere franchise.  I left with their promise to mail me a brand-new Samsung computer.  Or "like new," I think they call it.  Professionally refurbished.  Which is awfully nice of them.  We'll see how it all works out.

Then it was off to Florida.  I'd not met the Knightens before.  But was not too awfully frightened of them.  We've maintained a long correspondence.  Dennis has his own vague ideas about Walking Across America. 

And turned to me for friendly advice.  I regret that I've been useless to him.  But I am living proof that Anyone Can Do It.  Dennis is focused and energetic.  It should be a lot easier for him. 

I was more nervous about meeting his wife.  I know Dennis is a nut.  But for all I knew she might be stable.  I paid someone to trim my beard.  It was but a thin gesture but it did seem to work.  We got along just fine.  And now I have at least two new friends in Crestview, Florida.

They took me on the grand tour.  We drove slow past the prison.  And walked the white sands on the Air Force base.  We knocked on doors in the projects.  The Knightens are running a ministry.  They go where they're most needed. 

On Sundays they conduct a Bible study.  This week was the Sermon on the Mount.  I was up half the night studying.  I did not want to look like a fool.  But not so much was demanded of me.  We were all encouraged to sing.  I did not.  Self-consciousness is a burden, but it will serve the common good.

Most of the flock is fresh out of prison.  Or jail, as the case may be.  It is Dennis' ambition to keep them that way.  He works there as a guard.  And plays Barry White at strip search time.  He likes to make everything fun.

It does not handicap him as a preacher, though he can be hard on himself.  He is tireless and offers much clearer thinking than you hear in your typical church.  But he stiil loses me on divinity.  I don't think I'll too soon be saved.

But there was no pressure.  There was lots of food.  I met a man with gold teeth.  And a number of good-hearted little kids.  And when it was all over they drove me all the way back to Mobile, Alabama.

To pick up my walk where I left off.  I've been in a motel ever since.  Having failed to sleep or type my reports.  Call it another vacation.  I'll do my best to do better tomorrow.  I couldn't do very much worse.

THANK YOU, Good Knightens.  I had fun.  See you in another week.

Published with Blogger-droid v2.0.1

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.

Published with Blogger-droid v2.0.1