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November
1, 2000
Slept
in a glade two nights ago. Bugs so thick I choked on them. A sliver of a
moon hung low through the cypress as I stood and watched a jet make a
trail into the sunset. As I fell asleep, I could hear hunters and their
dogs in the distance – shots fired every once in a while. But despite
the heat, the road induced pain and worrying if K or I would get hit by a
tray bullet, I was at peace.
Early
yesterday afternoon I ran out of water – filtered some from a dirty
river. It tasted horrible! (I was told later that a paper mill was
upstream.) Later, pitched my tent on the side of a tiny bait and tackle
store property in the middle of nowhere. Washed a little grime off me in
the bathroom. My face was barely visible through welts left by countless
insect bites.
Talked
to the lady there and we chatted about fisherman and bait – I ran my
family’s tackle shop in the Keys for years. She told me how mad and rude
the fisherman get when the shrimp delivery truck was late, or the shrimp
were small – neither of which the tackle shop clerk has any power over.
I told her I had experienced the same thing in the Keys and that I used to
tell the fisherman, “Yep, shrimp truck’s late. Guess they do it just
to piss you off, eh?” Then they would get in their trucks, slam their
doors and screech out of the parking lot. Glad I don’t have to deal with
them anymore.
***
My
life has been reduced to Ziploc bags. Everything I own is packed in them.
The only way to keep sweat and rain out.
I
watch the world passing by at 60mph, or overhead at 450mph. People going
places, oblivious to Klondike and me. We are but a speck along the side of
the road, something to point at and provide an ever so brief moment of
thought or amusement: “Hey, look at that crazy fool!”
The
loneliness sometimes is so intense. Lives hurry on by around us, and we
are so isolated from them. It is strange; often they are just a few feet
away yet the distance is so great
Life
has changed so much for me, now. Where is the next convenience store or
grocery? Where is the next campground to take a shower or do laundry?
Sometimes, when we are miles between towns, where is the next water? Will
it be clean, or run off from a plant upstream? Or will there be a big
rattlesnake guarding it?
The
highs? Oh, the highs are higher than I’ve ever been. The freedom of the
open road early in the morning. A bottle of ice cold Gatorade, or chocolate milk. A home
cooked meal.
The
lows? Heat beyond imagination. Insects so thick, sometimes I can’t
breathe. Feet so numb from walking the pavement they feel like stumps on
the ends of my ankles – often hurting late into the night. The promise
of a tiny town, or camp area a mile of two ahead, made by a helpful
stranger who has no concept how far a mile actually is because he is
driving and doesn’t realize that the actual distance is more like 10 or
15 miles.
I
am in a campground tonight, if you can call it that. It more resembles a
campground/roadside stop in a black and white “End of the World” movie
of the 50’s.
The
water smells and tastes like rotten eggs and the shower is in a building
that is barely standing. At least I was able to wash some of my clothes,
while I showered in them – just the outer layer of dirt came out. And
with only a few hours until sunset, no time to fully dry due to the wet
nights of the South. I write
now while tending a small fire I built for some sort of comfort and to
help keep the bugs away. I also found some broken bricks to line it and
have placed my socks and a pair of shorts on them to dry.
The
bugs are so intense, even Klondike can’t find a good place to lie. She
is constantly brushing her face with her paw, snapping into the air at the
bugs, her teeth making a “chomping” sound each time.
I
am told we are at least 60 miles from a town with a laundry
My
days now start well before sunrise, and come to an end just after sunset.
The sliver of a moon hangs again over the cypress trees, now, and the fog
is setting in – the paper is getting wet as I write.
What
I wouldn’t give to see a familiar face, or hear a familiar voice right
now. But not yet, it would just remind me of how far I have to go.
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