October 18

10-18

Woke up this morning damp from the night air. That’s what I get for not pitching my tent – ah, well. It seems Ann Marie’s dog (inside her fenced in yard – we were in the trees a few yards away) liked Klondike a lot last night and wouldn’t let us go to sleep. Kept barking. Went to the gate and tried to bribe it with a few of K’s chewy-sticks, but after a bit, he was back, yelping, honking, yipping, hound-dog-style. Finally heard Momatos come out and put him in a smaller pen and he still howled all night long. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a dog with such single mindedness. Every time I’d wake up throughout the night, I would still hear him barking. I wonder when he sleeps.

Had a cup of coffee, took my vitamins this morning and protein powder, provided courtesy of Linda and Earl Heflinger. Klondike took her supplements as well and her salmon oil which she just loves. It’s in a capsule and she likes playing with it, sorta like bubble gum.

About 10 o’clock, stopped to use a payphone and catch up on some calls and try to fix the cell phone problem that I’m having. My brother has loaned me one of his cell phones to use until we get a cell phone sponsor. The batteries are only lasting 20-30 minutes or so.

There was a gentleman there named Frank, selling fruit and vegetables and had adopted a cat about a week before that was curled up on it’s own little bed. Said he calls him “Kitty-cat.”

So I was making a couple of calls from the payphone and a group of Mexicans pulled up and wanted to use the phone. They were very shy and the one man made his call, obviously talking to some relatives in Mexico. One of the younger boys, about 20 or so, came up to me and in broken English asked if he could pet Klondike. After he told me that I had a very pretty dog while petting K, he asked where we were going, and I told him. He said, “Oyi? Alaska?” and he looked up at the other fellow who just got off the phone and I heard the phone-guy ask him in Spanish what was going on and the young guy answered him and I caught “Alaska” out of it and the other guy goes, “ALASKA? Senior loco!” (“Mr. Crazy”) and a string of other words. I started laughing and the young guy looks at me and grins and says, “You unnerstan espany?” and I said, “poquito Espaniol” (I might have the speling wrong), which means “very little Spanish.” And they started laughing and I said, “but comprendo Senior Loco” and they laughed harder. It was pretty funny.

As I got ready to go, sat down on the ground and put my pack on. Frank’s standing there watching and he said, “That just the way we used to do it in the Army. WWII when I was in Germany.” He went on for about 10 minutes and we talked about carrying packs and what his experiences were in war. It was good to see a person who seemed to come away from that experience with a little less wounds and bruises than some other folks. What an experience that must have been.

We trudged on as the sun rose and started to slowly broil us to death.

****

Hwy. 27 is a main four lane highway up the middle of Florida. In my younger days I used to take it to Orlando when I went to visit Mickey and friends. Also used it once to escape from hurricane Andrew. My dad, who has seen plenty of adventure on and off the high seas himself, had decided to stay in the Keys as this Force 5 hurricane bore down on us. My mom came to me and asked what my wife (ex now) and I and her kids were going to do. I told her that I was surprised my dad was pulling his macho (bleep) because I thought he knew better, and that I wasn’t going to stick around and wind up hanging in some tree on the far side of Florida Bay. I had seen too much in the fire department to be stupid with Mother Nature. I remembered one of the old-timers telling me when I was a rookie, “Believe me, boy, you don’t wanna experience what it is like to pull bodies down from trees.” His comment had always stuck with me whenever a bad storm threatened the Keys.

So the family headed up the turnpike in several vehicles – along with about a million other Miamians headed north. Of course, all major roads out of South Florida resembled parking lots. Just north of Miami I got tired of sitting on the highway in my truck with no AC in early August and announced that I was gonna catch the next exit and head over to Hwy. 27. The rest of the family followed and we discovered what few others had discovered: a clear road right out of Andrew’s way.

Now, walking up 27 I took time to look at the scenery. The sun was hanging low. To the right were small sand dunes punctuated by glades as green as sawgrass grows. On my left were orange groves and pastures; the pastures providing an endless source of scents that drove Klondike nuts! Most of the time, when there wasn’t a shoulder, she walked the white line on the side of the road, or just on the edge of the shoulder. She was pretty good about following my gentle tugs on her lead, letting her know which direction I wanted her to go. But, whenever a pasture was near, her ears would perk up and her step would lighten, no matter how many miles we had walked that day. She would also start this little skip-dance that would often lead her out onto the road. It was like the scents were some kind of stupid-drug that would permeate her brain to the point that she wouldn’t pay attention to anything but the smell wafting across the road. This nearly got us into serious trouble a few times.

Just out of Lake Wales, Ann Marie pulled up in front of us and got out of her car. “How you holdin’ up?” I told her fine and she said, “Yeah, right, you look like hell.” The days were certainly hot and humid, but they were nothing compared to the Keys. I guess I was so used to the heat by now that I didn’t even realize what I must look like to others.

“You wanna ride into town?”

I told her I had seen a sign back a bit announcing a campground up the road a couple of miles and that we could walk to it, but thanks anyway. This ‘cut the crap, pal’ expression flashed across her face. “C’mon, you gotta give in a little bit, ya know,” she scolded. So Klondike and I accepted her offer. Once again, Klondike stuck her head out the window and acted cool in a way only a Siberian husky can do.

10-19

On the north end of Lake Wales, as the sun was starting its morning climb into the sky and the sweat was deciding if it wanted to pour off of me, we got stopped by a gentleman who was parked in front of an antique car dealership. His name was Dan and his wife was sitting in their car and he insisted that I come in and “Meet some bull-shitters” (as he put it) in this antique repair shop. He said, “Now there’s a lot of bullshit that goes on inside of here but I want to introduce you to them.” He didn’t even know why I was walking. So I walked in with my pack and Klondike and he introduces me to the guys, three of ‘em, and says, “This guy’s walking and he’s tired of walking. He wants to buy a car.” And the tall skinny guy in the middle says, “You like Lincoln’s?” and I said, “I love Lincoln’s.” and he starts laughing (I was kinda uncomfortable being there, so I thought my answer was a safe one). They all start laughing and he says pointing to Dan, “Well this guy has 40 of them at home.” And the other guys says, “Where ya going?” so I told him, “Alaska.” And he just shook his head. He had an earring in his ear. Probably mid 40’s. He says, “What’re ya doing it for?” I said, “The adventure of it.” The other guy, the guy on my left says, “So, where do you camp?” So I explained to them that I pitch a tent or stay with someone depending what happens about that time of night.” And he says, “So you cook for yourself?” and I said, “Yep.” About this time I took a swig from my hydration tube coming over my shoulder and the tall skinny one in the middle says, “So is that extra oxygen you suckin’ on there?” I laughed and told him just water.

Then Dan says, “So what do you think of the noseeum’s?” and I said, “Well, I’ve been pretty fortunate with the noseeum’s.” and he says, “Man, you’re lucky! My wife gets into them all the time. She gets them on the toilet seat!” the other guy, straight across, the tall skinny one says, “Well how do you know they’re noseeum’s if you can’t see em?” and Dan says, “Well you should see the welts she gets from ‘em!” and the younger fellow with the earring says, “Well maybe she’s cheatin’ on ya.” And Dan says, “Nah, I don’t give her enough time.”

About this time I figure it’s time for me to move on, so I politely excused myself from them and Dan says “Can I leave now?” and the tall skinny one says, “I wish the (bleep) you would!” and they all laugh. So Dan grabs me by the shoulder and shoves me out the door and says, “You know, that’s what we need more of in this life -- more smiles and more happiness.” He pats me on the shoulder and says, “You have a safe trip. Don’t get hit by any cars.”

Almost hit by 2 cars. One was a woman. I looked up and watched her crossing the white line and I’m thinking, “Oh heck, she’ll pull back over.” She was almost on top of me by the time she pulled back over. Barely missed us. Then about 45 minutes later, here comes this guy driving an RV. Swerves right over the white line, right into us, barely got out of the way. My walking stick hit the side of his motor home -- that’s how close he was. Seem to remember a cell phone sticking out of his ear – wonder if he would get better reception if I jammed it somewhere else!

Later in the day K and I were taking a break on the north end of a small town when a Polk County K-9 deputy named T. Ellis sauntered up to us. “Nice dog. How you doin’?” he said. “Are one of you hurt?” I smiled and thanked him. No, I told him, we were just taking a break from the road and the heat. He was very polite, but I could tell he was checking us out. I explained what we were doing and could see him relax a bit. Considering how many miles we had already traveled, this was the first time we had attracted the attention of law enforcement – not bad, I thought.

He asked me how Klondike was handling the walk, and we chatted about how stubborn and single-minded huskies could be. I asked him what it was like being a K-9 deputy, and he said, “I’ve been doing it for five years now, and I love it. It adds a whole different element to being a cop.” When I asked him how he got started, without hesitation he told me that it was something that he had always wanted to do, so he finally went and did it.

I was rather surprised by his answer, because if the people I have met and talked to are any indication, there are a lot of folks out there who hate what they do for a living. I find it interesting to listen to people tell about the different things they do, or would like to do, for a living. Sometimes, when I run into someone who tells me how much they hate their job, I can’t help but ask them, “If you could do anything in the world and get paid for it, what would it be?” The majority just stare off towards some unseen horizon, shake their heads and say, “I don’t know. I never thought about it.”

The rest cock their heads, smile and start describing their “dream job,” their hands waving around animatedly. The part that I find sad is that most of them then give me all the reasons why they can’t make their dreams come true. Somehow, somewhere along the road, someone sold them a bill of goods that told them happiness and personal satisfaction in their life or job only happens to other people. That their fate lies in the hands of some “higher” authority that has a cruel sense of humor, therefore they should be satisfied with their station in life. Somewhere they became convinced that they had to be a “victim.”

Stayed with a friend for a few days recovering from the heat and waiting for a package from Colorado. Seems she has a pen pal on Death Row who asked her to get him a certain brand of dictionary. Here is the letter he wrote thanking her:

"Hi, I hope all is well. I got the book today, thank you very much! Now I’m the envy of the whole row. Plus I'm going to be the smartest soon – no word I can’t spell. Me and the others can’t believe the price of it, so I told everyone to tell there people to go to Barns & Noble, maybe I shouldn’t have done that, everyone will have one then. But for real there's things in there I don't have any idea about, like how to use words in different ways, all kinds of stuff, its like a Big treasure chest, I know its silly of me to get excited over a book, But I've been trying to get that same book for 3 years, everyone that said they would get it for me, never came through. But you did, and I thank you very very much."

I asked if I could quote his letter, and she wrote and asked. Here is her answer I got via e-mail:

“I have told him that your were going to quote his letter, without using his name, and its up to him if he wants his name used. I don't want to jeopardize this pen pal of over a year, as you know. It will be a year of writing on Jan 20 (this I know cuz I save my letters to disk before printing, so as not to repeat myself) ;-) But from his enjoyment of your logbook, and his wanting me to say hello to you, I wouldn't be too surprised if he didn't care if you used his name or not. Though you may not want to, not very Disney-esque stuff LOL. Let's just say I have made fans for you in some very strange places ;-) Are you picturing the whole Death Row passing your logbook excerpts around?”

When I first got this note from my friend, I don’t know what I felt. My log books being passed around on a Florida Pen Death Row? As I write this, it has been several weeks since the above exchange, and I still don’t know what to think or feel. I sit here, and for the first time in a long time, words fail me – I have been trying to write something for several hours. I want to say something to those men. However, I think words like “thanks” or “good luck” or “cheers” have a different meaning when they are read on Death Row. I don’t know how PC this is, but, Guys! Thank you for your support! I hope you enjoy this latest batch! You will be in my thoughts and prayers as I walk.

10-22

When you are walking across the country alone, you have a lot of time to think. And I have been thinking, lately, about the way people treat each other.

As I walk, I see people interacting with one another. Interacting in cars, as they speed by. Interacting in C-stores as I buy a snack or take a break in the shade. Interacting in their homes, when I am staying with them -- and sometimes from the road, when I am walking by. When you are on the outside looking in, you see people living their lives -- in ways that I am sure they don’t see. Sometimes, it’s because they are too close to their situations -- other times, simply because they don’t care. So much of this behavior is destructive, to themselves, or to others around them, and I wonder, what purpose does it serve.

A few months ago a friend of mine decided to take back control of her life, and make a change in her scenery, too. Changes that her family, and some of her closest friends didn’t support. (I am sure there are plenty of us who have found ourselves in similar situations.)

As I watched from afar, I couldn’t help but admire her courage as she came up against those who were so stuck in their own way of thinking that they wouldn’t even try to see how things were from her point of view. If her point of view didn’t fit in their little boxes, they weren’t having any of it.

What made it even more difficult was that she has kids. If we take an honest look around us, we see examples of people making (or trying to make) positive changes in their lives -- these include divorced people with children. We don’t have to look much further (just read the paper or watch the news) to see stories of neglected, abused or abandoned kids. Kids whose parents can’t take care of themselves, let alone the children they brought into this world.

Part of the changes my friend was making resulted in her kids going to live with her ex and his family until she could get back on her feet. I thought, At least they will be in a safe and loving environment.

On a recent weekend where she had the kids, one of her sons couldn’t sleep, so he crawled into bed with her and they talked. At one point, without warning, he asked, “Momma, how come does Grandma say so many mean things about you?”

When you are walking across the country alone, you have a lot of time to think. And I have been thinking lately, I have one question I would like to ask Grandma, or Grandpa, or anyone else who says such things: What purpose does that serve?

****

After spending a couple of days in a campground on the Suwannee River, I looked at my map and decided to make a change in course. I was supposed to head north to Georgia, but realized that just two miles south was a road that headed in the direction of the Gulf Coast, and I thought, Ya, know? I think I want to see the Gulf. So K and I headed off in that direction.

Hotter than Hell, and the bugs are really getting bad – biting flies start about 11 a.m. and continue to about 1 p.m. – then they go away. Gnats and no-see-ums are constant. K is having a horrible time with burrs. Have to clear her paws every 30 minutes or so!

Spent the night with some fellows who do wood carvings with chain saws! They do incredible work! They were fixin’ bluefish and collards in a big pot on a bar-b-q outside and playin’ Jimmy B real loud. Told me to go in the freezer (which is outside on the ground beside their trailer) and grab a beer. Did so, swung the door open and got a face full of an eight-foot rattlesnake stuffed in there for safe keepin’. Actually, there were several snakes frozen in there.

The snakes must have been an omen. About 3 p.m. the next day K and I were takin’ a break and there was a stream close by, so I let her go down and drink “cold” water. She went down a different route than I did – I still had her on her lead, which is 15 feet long. As I stepped carefully down through the growth to get closer to the water, I had a funny feeling that said be careful of snakes. No sooner was the thought out of my mind when I heard the hissing sound of a rattler to my right. I looked and it struck – hitting the side of my boot less than an inch from my leg! The next few nano seconds felt like I was in a scene from The Matrix! I jumped up and back, slipped and landed on my back, the snake struck again, this time just under my boot! The snake coiled again . . . . all I could think of was K coming to investigate, thinking I was playing with her, so I threw her lead toward her and scrambled up the bank – trying to be as quiet as possible so as not to get her exited. Or as quiet as one can be when one is running from a BIG rattlesnake!

I reached the top of the bank and headed across the bridge. K just looked up at me and went right back to drinking – ah, the single-mindedness of a thirsty husky! As I reached the other side of the bridge I started calling to her and she slowly slogged through the water, dragging her lead. Thank God, it didn’t get snagged.

When I had a chance to breathe and think, I replayed the scene in my head. Rattlesnakes are not known to miss – except during the season when they are shedding their skin. During this time, they strike at almost anything, and they are almost blind. Lucky for me, this was the season!

However, there was another reason that the snake did not make a clean hit to my ankle. It was just trying to get my attention. Over the years, I have come to understand that all things are interrelated – that everything happens for a reason. And I mean EVERYTHING. For me, this isn’t even a belief anymore – it is how I live my life. I simply know it as a universal law.

Many native cultures (all over the world) teach of the “medicine” that the animals carry and represent, and how this medicine applies to us, the human inhabitants of earth. Try it sometime. Pick up a book about animal medicine. (Don’t worry about which one, the right one will find you.) As you learn about it, notice the deer on the side of the road, or the fox that crosses your path and the hawk that circles your head. Then apply their appearance in your life to things that are happening in your life. Sometimes it is an event or a situation that you are experiencing – sometimes the animal will appear when you are having a certain thought. It’s pretty cool, and it will give you further insight into yourself. It will also bring you to a new level of understanding that we are ALL related – how important it is that we each take responsibility for our own actions in the great scheme of taking care of this planet. One of the most important things I have learned from this is that we should pay more attention to healing ourselves, our own lives and spirits, and not worry so much about what our “neighbor” is doing – not worry so much about trying to “save” him from himself.

Now some will challenge me on this, on the animal medicine. But I tell you now, there are more ways to communicate with our creator than we can imagine – and this is just one of the ways. And since it teaches how to heal ourselves, and heal the earth in turn, how can anyone say it is “bad”? Not that there is such thing as “bad” or “good,” since those terms are relative – but that is another subject and discussion.

Soon we were heading down the road. But before we made it another 100 yards, K yelped and started bucking at the end of her lead, jumping out into traffic. I quickly pulled her back in as she fought me – and this wasn’t easy swinging around with an 80-pound pack on my back as I tried to get her under control. I grabbed her paw and discovered a whole clump of burrs buried between two of her toes. As I tried to clear them, her teeth closed down on my wrist harder than I had ever felt – she almost drew blood. I realized then that she wasn’t going to cooperate and I wrestled her to the ground, my pack on top of me. All of a sudden, K made a horrible yelping howl, bit me again and clawed her way out from under me – right then I also felt my right leg turn to fire. I had pulled us down on a fire ant nest and they had crawled up under her fur and were covering my right leg, up under my shorts and into my socks – they were so thick I couldn’t see my leg! And K was yelping in fits and starts and bouncing back into traffic again.

I dragged both of us farther off the road and frantically tried to brush the ants off me while I pulled K closer and started running my hand against the natural angle of her fur, picking each of the ants off her one by one. After about ten minutes, which seemed like the longest day from Hell, I got the ants off her and smashed the last few that were up my shorts and in my socks. And I concluded that, animal medicine or not, fire ants are a really bad joke played by God.

Just as I finished, a lady pulled up in her fancy car. I recognized her from the day before. K and I had taken a break under a tree that was adjacent to her property. She had come out and offered food and water to us. Now she got out and walked up and said, “Well, you made it this far – not bad.” I told her of my battle with snakes and ants. She shook her head and chuckled a bit, thinking I must really be crazy. She asked where I was headed for the night and I told her I had been told there was a campground up the road another couple of miles. “That isn’t for another 10 or 11 miles,” she said. Damn! That was too far and there was no place to camp along the road I was on due to waterlogged glades on either side for miles. She looked at me with this pitiful expression and offered a ride. I gladly accepted and dumped my pack in her trunk. K climbed in the back seat and promptly fell asleep.

The campground in which I had planned to stay was not only 10 miles up the road, but another six miles down a side road (that’s two hours’ walking), so I asked her if she could just drive me to Perry, since it was on her route back to Tallahassee.

Spent the night in a Perry campground, got a hot shower and washed days of road grime out of my clothes.