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AUTHOR’S
NOTE:
There
is a change in tense and tone in some of these log entries. This
is mainly due to my making the entries on a mini cassette recorder then
having them transcribed by a “helper” on the other side of the
country. Actually, as a writer, it’s kind of fun to experiment with a
different style. I hope you enjoy them just the same.
October
17
Had
my brother drive me through the rough sections of Dade County, up Hwy.
27. I had been warned
repeatedly by several highway patrol or Monroe County deputies that
walking through that area would not be a safe thing to do.
Did
something to my back on Friday when I walked through Key Largo. By
Sunday I could barely move! But had to get on the road, so finally found
a hotel in Sebring that took dogs and was close enough to a doctor
incase my back didn’t get better.
I
wound up staying there for 2 days taking lots of Aleve.
Tuesday
morning my back was still bothering me but it was not as bad as the
first few days. Mom suggested a new way to put the pack on – sit down
and pull the straps on, then stand up.
DUH! Ya know?
I have found one thing out, the older I get, the smarter my
parents get *grin*.
On
my way out of Sebring, stopped at a Tampa Tribune office.
Walked in with Klondike and said, “Hey, maybe one of your
reporters wants a different angle on a story?”
(I take any chance I get to let folks know about the site.)
The
receptionist looked at me oddly, stood up, took a long look at Klondike,
and said, “Yeah, I’ll call a reporter but your dog’s not allowed
in here.”
Right
about that time, a couple of ladies from ad sales saw Klondike standing
in the front lobby and came rushing out, squealing in usual fashion, and
showered all sorts of affection and kisses on my dog.
I’m
standing there going, “Hi, my name’s Robert,” and they’re going,
“Yeah, that’s great. You’ve got a beautiful dog!
(back to Klondike) YES, you’re SO BEAUTIFUL, aren’t you!
Huh? Huh?”
Just once I would like to be that damn dog!
It
just so happened that one of the ladies, Mickey, has parents who live in
Fairbanks, so she gave me their name and address – they even have
e-mail! I’ll contact them
when I get up that way, get some advice on the local terrain.
After
our interview, we headed out of town. You’d be surprised at the number
of people who stop you on the road who want to give you a ride -- it’s
kinda funny. In one
particular case, Klondike and I were getting close to the time when we
would take a break and a gentleman pulled off and offered a ride.
Said he was headed to Michigan, said he would take me as far as
he was going in the direction that I was going.
I
said, “No thanks,” and explained what we were doing.
After a moment of chatting I asked how far it was to get out of
town and he said about four miles.
I graciously accepted the ride to that point.
We
had a chance to talk while he drove.
His name was John, and he was president of the Highland County
Humane Society. He had a whole bunch of dogs himself and Klondike had caught
his eye, so that’s why he pulled off and started talking to us.
So
we got to talking about humane societies and it seems that they have the
same problem that many other humane societies have, just barely scraping
by and of course then there’s the controversy of the “no kill”
shelters. These are the
shelters that limit the number and kinds of animals they take in, or if
they don’t have a choice, they just label an animal “un-adoptable”
and then put it down. Where as humane societies don’t have a choice
but to handle all of the animals in a given community.
After
listening to John for a bit, I asked, “So what do you think is going
to solve the problem?” and it didn’t even take him a second to
respond. It’s like the answer was so obvious to him and it should be
obvious to everyone else. He said, “We have to start with the
children. We have to start educating the children because the adults
that are responsible adults are already taking care of their animals.
They are spaying and neutering them, the way that they’re supposed to.
The rest of the adults who are irresponsible with their animals, no
education is going to change them. So we have to start working with the
children instead and educating them in the importance of proper animal
care.” Well, put, John, and thank you!
Also
could have gotten a ride to Michigan with John – I thought about it
for a half second.
Later,
Klondike and I were enjoying a little water break under a cypress tree
along the road when a gentleman pulls up in a big pickup.
He gets out and is tall and lanky in a sort of Texan way.
He asks if Klondike would like some cold water and if I would
like some crackers and a soda. Klondike was full of water, but I gladly
accepted the soda and snack.
There
was something about him that told me he had something on his mind and we
talk a second about the orchards and I said, “So what’s your
business?” and he said, “Cattle – and I do a little work for the
Lord,” and I’m thinking
“Oh God, here we go again.” And he looks me square in the eye and
says, “Do you know the Lord?” and I said, “Yes, Sir, I do,” and
he said, “In what way do you know the Lord,” and I said, “As the
one and only savior.” He handed me his business card, wished me luck
and got back in his truck. That seemed to be the only thing he was
interested in talking to me about, and he used food to disguise his
intentions. I wasn’t quite sure how I was going to handle the rest of
that conversation if he pried any further because I don’t believe in
lying to someone, but I also didn’t want to get tangled in a lecture
regarding personal religious preferences.
After
he drove off, I was getting ready to put my pack back on when this lady
pulls up in a Toyota pickup, gets out and strides up to me with a big
grin. She’s dressed in a Waffle House uniform, her nametag says
Denise, and she’s looking around at my pack and Klondike. “Nice
dog,” she says, “I’ll give you a ride -- where ya headed?” and I
say, “Alaska.” She doesn’t blink an eye and says, “Well, I’m
headed into Sebring,” and I say, “We just came from there,” and
she says, “Well, I’m goin’ to the mall there and I can give you a
ride if you want,” and I say, “Um, thanks, but that’s south and
last time I checked, Alaska was north of here.” It’s almost like she
didn’t even hear me and says, “No, I insist, I’ll give you a ride
where ever you want to go, no problem at all,” and I say, “Thanks,
but it’s not necessary. We’re walking.” So she stands there for a
second with her lip kinda scrunched up and says, “Well, I’m going to
the mall, then I’m heading back. I live in Lake Wales so I’ll stop
on the way back and give you a ride to Lake Wales.” I say, “Ok,”
and she marches back to her car and drives off.
Further
up the road, walked by a K9 unit and a sheriff’s department unit
interrogating some shifty looking characters driving a BMW. One of the
officers just smiled politely and gave a little wave as we walked by.
At
some point, I was almost hit in the face by a cigarette butt that
somebody had flicked out their window. It brought to my attention the
amount of cigarette butts that I’ve noticed along highways – the
amount of garbage in general. I just don’t understand why people have
to throw stuff out their windows instead of using the ashtrays in their
cars or keeping a little plastic bag in their cars for garbage. It just
shows such lack of respect for the earth. It reminds me of the times I
used to be filming (while doing documentary work with the treasure
hunters) on some Spanish galleon in the Keys and a cigarette butt would
come floating by, or the number of forest fires I have fought when I was
on the fire department. I can only remember one that wasn’t started by
someone throwing a cigarette out their window. It just doesn’t make
any sense. It adds to it when one hits me. I’m glad it didn’t hit
Klondike.
So
2 ½ hours down the road, we’re plodding along and I’m listening to
my music when all a sudden I hear this, “Yoo-hoo!” Hwy. 27 is a
four-lane highway divided by a median and I look up and there’s Denise
from the Waffle House yelling at me from in the median. She’s yelling
and I can’t understand what she is saying, so we walk across the
highway over to her. Now she’s insisting on taking me into Lake Wales
and I say, “No, no, no. Really, we’re walking – thank you.” And
it’s like she hadn’t even heard me when I had said last time that we
were going to Alaska. She says, “Where are you walking to?” and I
say again, “Alaska,” and it suddenly dawns on her. “You’re not
walking to Alaska!” she shrieks, “You can’t walk to Alaska!” and
I say, “Well, the road map I’m using says I can,” and she says,
“There’s no road that goes to Alaska! Let me take you to Lake
Wales!” and she throws open her truck door, stomps around to the back
of her truck, and throws down the tailgate. “Here, just throw your
pack in there,” she says.
Now,
we’re only a couple of hours away from having to look for a place to
camp for the night, so I was just wondering if it wasn’t the Universe
trying to tell me to catch a ride now because the area that we were in
was kind of difficult to camp in due to the orange groves and pastures.
There wasn’t too much untended property around, so I decided to say,
“Well, we’ll be looking for a place to stay up there,” thinking
that if she said we could pitch our tent in her yard, or sleep on her
floor, I would take her up on her offer. Instead, she says, “Well you
can stay in a motel up there. There’s plenty of motels,” I say,
“We’re not staying in motels – too expensive and most don’t take
dogs.” She stops and blinks at me and says, “Well, I think you’re
crazy! You sure you don’t want a ride to Lake Wales?” and I say,
“No Ma’am. Thanks very much, though.” So she hops back in her
truck, throws a wave and yells, “See ya’ later!” and heads down
the road.
About
5:30, Klondike and I were heading for a shade tree right next to a feed
store and a lady pulls up in a little two-door Saturn, gets out and I
recognize her as a lady that I had seen back in Sebring in the morning.
We had talked a bit in front of a C-store. She had some friends, a
couple, in her car. She walks up to me and says, “You need a place to
stay for the night?” and I say, “I’ll be looking for one in a
bit.” She says, “I live just a mile down the road and I’ve got
seven acres. I’m sure you can find a place to pitch your tent
there.” So I figured it was only about an hour away from the time that
we needed to look for a place to stay so I said, “Sure – thanks!”
My
pack didn’t fit in her trunk with her other stuff and it hung
precariously out the back. Her friend climbed into the back with her
husband and Klondike sat on my lap, put her elbow on the open window
frame and stuck her head out into the wind – just like one of those
Hollywood-type dogs. Every now and then she would pull her head back in
and give me a Husky grin around her tongue hanging out. I could see it
in her eyes; she thought she was so cool.
When
you spend your days walking at about three miles and hour, it feels
really weird sometimes to get in a vehicle and see the countryside now
suddenly speeding by.
Ann
Marie was her name and she was in ad sales. Her two friends in the car
were from Italy, the woman’s name was Brenda and her husband’s name
was Momatos, and they were just getting ready to reopen their pizzeria
back in Sebring. They told me they cook their pizzas the old Italian way
with wood burning stoves – made my mouth water, as all I have been
eating is canned sardines and mac and cheese or ramens.
Ann
Marie and I talked about the business of ad sales. “I love sales, and
I am good at it” she said. “You know, it used to be really good but
you can hardly make a living in it now. I used to sell ads for $600-$650
a page. Now everybody is so busy undercutting each other they’re down
to $250 and that’s hardly enough to make a living – it’s barely
above minimum wage.” It reminded me of what Bleep-Mart had done to my
family’s bait and tackle business in the Keys when they moved in a
half-mile down the road.
Ann
Marie was divorced and looked to be in her late 30’s, but there was
something in her dark eyes that told me she was older. She had gone to
school for marketing and business in Michigan and had an air about her
that proclaimed she was now happy with her life and had some definite
ideas on how she wanted to live it. She also had some definite ideas
about a few other things. For instance, I would bet you money that she
will vote for Nader. She was also planning to go back to school to learn
law or arbitration, and was trying to find a way to do that and still
pay her bills.
So she offered me a chance to wash my clothes and shower, get all
the road grime off – and Brenda rustled up this fantastic vegetarian
meal. Ann Marie’s friend, Frank, came over and joined us for dinner.
He was a tall, slightly graying quite type – very thoughtful. He asked
me to tell about some of the folks I have meet along the road, so I did
my imitation of Denise from Waffle House around mouthfuls of tofu. After
a bit, Frank said, “You know, I went on a road trip back in the early
70’s.” And as he spoke, his eyes drifted off and I could see he was
back on the road again.
“A
buddy of mine called me and said, ‘You know, I just gotta get out of
town and go on a vacation. Let’s go buy a couple of Harleys.’ So we
bought a couple of Harleys and headed to Colorado. Finally wound up
there, a month and a half, two months later after hanging out with
friends a relatives along the way. Wound up in Aspen.”
Frank
hung out there for the whole winter but his buddy got cabin fever about
half way through and so they fought their way through a snowstorm to get
him to the Denver Airport. He certainly had fond memories of that. He
said, “People don’t realize. They thought we were nuts, just picking
up and going on our way.” I said, “Yeah, they don’t realize that
you can just pick up and go if you want to. There’s a few sacrifices
that you make along the way but you can do it if you want to.”
The
weather was nice. Spent the night writing a couple of letters by
flashlight. Fell asleep looking at the stars up through the cypress
trees and wondering what tomorrow would bring.
Road
Kill Count for the day: 1 Beaver, 2 Foxes, 6 Birds, 100 Turtles, 3
possums on the half shell. Day’s
tally: 20 horn honks and waves, 3 offers for rides.
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