5/1- 5/5: NYC

The train dropped us a mile from Chris's mother's house in West Paterson, NJ. Chris was looking forward to seeing her, and were both eager to get out of the packs, out of the nasty clothes, and into showers!

Friday night was spent chatting and gorging ourselves. Mary and her husband, Musty, made sure I felt at home as we settled in for this seemingly unknown length of time. All we knew was that Chris's sister, Wendie, would be in from Seattle the following Friday for Mother's Day, and that we wanted to stay thru her visit, which would end 5/13. At least 12- days. This was Chris's prime destination out east, and it was time for me to relax, exhale, and process the past three weeks. That's exactly what I did. In fact, I finally left the house on Monday, only for cigs. I literally walked 2- miles for a cigarette. Most of the rest of the time was spent tinkering with the blog, editing & uploading pictures, and trying to clarify foggy ideas of how to proceed from here.

The four of us had some interesting chats over the weekend, although I'm quite sure Musty finds us to be quite ridiculous! He is literally a retired rocket scientist, and a lot like Bill in that he's scientific- minded, but much less open to abstract ideas. In fact, he may have nightmares about the very notion of things abstract, perhaps sometimes awakening in a cold, tangible sweat screaming "empirical proof!" I kid the Musty...

Now, to his credit, one nugget he left with me was his philosophy that, in the end, evil will always triumph over good for the simple reason that evil has no moral war to wage about just eliminating good. Good on the other hand will first pontificate, then try to legislate or rehabilitate, before deferring to the metaphorical study group to "seek further 'data' before more action can be taken."

This all leads down the very dark alley toward establishing a standard of Moral Superiority; one I assume Musty himself has no issue walking in the dead of night. Yet, it's an interesting point, and screams to several different groups, and ultimately depends on how you define "good & evil". Hopefully you're not leaving that not- so- simple definition to George Bush or the Magic Space Man. We never got to that point, thank God, and for once I'll attempt to leave something alone before I get steamrolling. I'd also like you to know that, if not for some serious editing, the preceding paragraph would have reached the first full "Rant Alert" status of 2009! "Am I not merciful?!?!" Name the movie, win a prize...

The four of us (Chris, Mary, Musty, and I) also seem to share a special disdain for the Federal Reserve. We spent 4- hours, straight, watching and discussing a program from the mid- 90's that outlines the history of the Reserve, central banks, and the income tax. More importantly, and creepy, is that it predicted this "crisis" you're being sold... and did it in 1995.

As the new week arrived, my next step presented itself, in a big way, from a traditionally unlikely source: Shalain. Out of the blue she began talking about flying to Michigan to meet up when I finally get there. Unfortunately, we have no idea when that will be, so the conversation turned to ME doing the traveling, NOW, since we were hunkered down on the east coast. Besides, my calendar oddly seems a bit empty for the foreseeable future. With Chris going to see family & friends in Mass. after New York, my taking a trip back to New Mexico now would fit nicely. Plus, when else will I be able to do it this conveniently? It seemed odd to retrace my steps so quickly after leaving, but it "felt right", and I laughed realizing that I had done nearly the same thing, on a smaller scale, last year after 10- days!

After weighing planes, trains, and automobusses, we decided to get the 7- day advance Greyhound ticket from Newark to Santa Fe. I severely dreaded 2- days of Dirty Dog, but this suffering would allow me to Amtrak to Boston. Worth it indeed. To prevent intense nausea, and perhaps even a bludgeoning of one of the various breeds of punk that curse They Who Would Have You Leave the Driving to Them, I chose a route other than Nashville- St. Louis- Amarillo. If I never again see that Fascist Shithole in St. Louis, I'll be happy! (see last August's post for the backstory) Instead, I would travel through Pittsburgh, Columbus, Indy, Peoria, Des Moines, Omaha, and finally Denver before getting home. Some territory I hadn't seen in awhile.

Another major development on a personal level that may play a role later this year is that my last "mythical sister" and I finally started a dialogue via email. We seem to click nicely. She is quite blunt and to the point about things. We all know by now how He Who Writes Blog loves that! Her name is Lynn, she lives in Boise, and you'll be hearing much more about the rest of the story as Michigan gets closer. Suffice it to say for now that this was a big deal for me.

Chris had been making arrangements with people to meet up with in the city, so we decided to make one long trip to Manhattan, rather than spending money on the bus everyday. We were on the bus Wednesday morning, planning to stay with various friends until Friday evening...

5/1: Escape to New York

I'm always amused as to how a bed feels after sleeping on the ground for a stretch. One of mankind's best innovations- no doubt.

We slept in until around 1 then slowly put our things together while Wendy cooked up a huge, unexpected breakfast. "Ham, eggs, bacon, toast, juice- in the Age of Swine Flu!", I laughed. I guess swine- product acquisition would be a bit more difficult, not to mention travel to/ from Mexico, if it were an actual threat and wondered to myself how soon it would be until it was yesterday's news.

The steps thru Tuckahoe were retraced and after a mile we were back to terra incognita, still on route 50, trying for Mays Landing by Saturday. Not exactly an example of elaborate goal setting, since it was maybe all of 10- miles. The weather was cool and cloudy for the most part, with hints all afternoon that we'd be dumped on eventually. The walk was quite nice, stopping at a little greenhouse for apples and grapes, then a nice conversation with Liddy the Horse. We had ultimately given up hitching New Jersey. Occasionally, Chris would throw out his thumb, but more out of habit than anything. At this point, we were ready for Saturday's pick- up, and were just sauntering down the road until it arrived.

At about 4:30 and half- way to Mays Landing, we had stopped for a break when Chris's Mom called to say that plans had changed. She wouldn't be able to come. This sent us into a flurry of improvisation. As Chris put it, we had grown smitten with the notion of being in New York by Saturday, so I quickly called NJ Transit to get bus- info on Mays Landing- Atlantic City, and learned that we had just under two hours to catch the last one that night. It was nearly 5- miles yet, so we'd need to get off our asses and walk a steady clip, but had about enough time. Then the skies finally decided to open up.

As I was prepping Elmo for the Mays Landing Sprint, I looked over and saw a minivan pulling off. We had not even come close to getting a ride in the entire state, and NOW, when we really needed it (and had decided to 'just get to NYC'), we had one? My immediate, and brilliantly insightful reaction: "Are you fucking kidding me?" Thankfully, the driver missed that display of wordsmithiness.

Next to college co-eds, this was the most unlikely of rides. The driver was a single woman in her 50's or 60's, and they rarely stop, out of fear. Especially for TWO passengers. I thought this was quite remarkable on her part, as did she, and I finally understood why when she said, "Something told me to turn around and pick you up!" The line I had heard repeatedly last summer. She then credited Jesus directly, as though Chris and I provided the Saviour hours of entertainment. Hi, Jeebus!

In the excitement of the moment, and the drastically changing scene, I never thought to ask her name. In fact, I said very little at all. I had wisely deferred the front seat to Friar Chris, letting him handle this little theological exchange, which of course he was happy to do.

Our new friend was a lovable, happy, joyful mother of three grown sons, one of whom is a helicopter pilot in Afghanistan. She reminded me of one of my oldest friend's mother and was obviously a very devout Christian and happy to hear about new thoughts and ideas; as long as she was allowed to re- frame then proudly re- display them within her religious context! I have learned not to actively engage religious dogmatists, and was taking great joy in watching Chris try! He would share some of his spiritual ideas, and I would then see her twist and manipulate these thoughts into her brand of fundamentalism! It was great fun. I was giggling to myself quietly as we sped up route 50 in a downpour.

Along the way, I had managed to get her to offer to take us another few miles, to Egg Harbor City and the NJ Transit train station. Here we'd have a few more options to get to Atlantic City. I really enjoyed the ride, and the conversation I was privy to. It reminded me a great deal of last year and what I had so far, for the most part, been unable to replicate in 2009.

Arriving in Egg Harbor City, there was a train just pulling in, so we quickly said goodbye and a thousand thank yous, then hurried up the platform. The train said "Philadelphia", and before I could look for Atlantic City schedules, Chris was making his way toward it... and Philadelphia. It wasn't like I had anything better to offer, and I liked the idea of smelling Philadelphia's distinct stink again, so we were quickly headed west by train, rather than east by bus. My kinda trip!

When finally seated on the train, we had a few moments to at least partially process what the hell had just happened. This had the same feel as the day we had been sprung from Maryland thru Delaware. The 45- minute ride to Philly was spent reflecting a great deal on this, and writing.

Our apparently related chain of events continued to play out after we arrived at 30th St. Station. We had a 20- minute wait for the Amtrak to Manhattan's Penn Station, then once in the city, another quick 20- minutes for our last train back under the river to his mother's house in New Jersey.

The few minutes in Manhattan were remarkable in a few subtle ways for me. I had another of those kick- ass "look where your day started" moments as I thought back to waking in Wendy's RV just few hours earlier. I also had fun tinkering with the metaphysics of how things had changed so dramatically once we had seemingly decided to "just get to New York." There was obviously a connection between Denton and Mays Landing, although I had no idea what it was. Finally, we had now been on the road nearly 3- weeks, and were coming into this, planned, extended interlude. Things had felt weird, and often a bit forced at times. This down- time came at a good time. I needed to reset my mind, reflect, and evaluate; the old "personal inventory". In the months leading up to leaving, I hadn't been able to do that since I was forced to halt the personal writing I'd been doing a few years.

In the end, I'd have plenty of time to figure it out...

4/30: Corbin City, NJ- Wendy

Chris and I got a relatively early jump on the day. The idea was to make our way as far north as we could, with a minimalist goal of May's Landing by Saturday. This would give us two days to go the nearly 20- miles or, hopefully, much further with a ride. Chris's mom was planning to pick us up Saturday, and had an offer from Ken to get a ride if we could get anywhere on I-95. Thus we had set simple "goals" of getting as far as possible to shorten her drive or, if we were very lucky, hooking up with Ken somewhere around Philadelphia or Trenton. Unfortunately, we were also coming to accept that rides were unlikely, at best, in New Jersey.

This was the first day of consistent walking since we had shut it down because of my heel, and we kept up a surprisingly good pace. Since the shoes had broken in quite a bit now, the heel was repairing itself nicely, and I had lightened up, we were moving more quickly than the week before.

We stopped for some supplies, then quickly found the ever- present Wawa... which, with its coffee and cheap(er) smokes, was becoming my favorite stop. Stop we did.

While reclined against the wall outside, we were approached by a bearded, tattooed character who slid along side, crossed his arms, and asked "What are you two up to?", as if he recognized something.

Tom was a biker who also ran a moving company. He looked to be in his 50's, and had a beard that would impress both the saltiest biker and biggest ZZ Top fan. He & his wife, Rita, were driving to Cape May with their teenage son for Rita's birthday, and running into us had delayed things a bit!

The conversation went on for quite a while considering the venue, with Rita both reminding Tom that they had things to do AND taking part at the same time! It was comical, and obvious that the four of us got along famously! Too bad that they were going the other way, we could have talked until Anchorage. I loved these two!

We lingered at the Wawa for nearly two hours not feeling the urge to accomplish much, despite our "goals", and had a nice pace for the day. Tuckahoe was next after a rest or two and a hike thru a nature preserve. On the way thru this little village, we pondered buying a converted short- bus that had been converted to an RV, much like the veggie bus. Something fitting about the fact that it was a... short- bus.

Corbin City begins across a drawbridge from Tuckahoe, and is barely a town. I had stopped on the other side (if it has "sides") to get rain gear handy, when out of the antique store we had parked in front of walked a pair of elderly ladies who were curious about the creatures mingling outside. After a nice chat, they pointed out the Corbin Cafe just up the road, which they suggested as a place to refill water before the "nothingness" further up 50.

We were greeted with what I sensed as suspicious curiosity as we lumbered in asking the bartender if we could please fill up the water bag. The suspicion quickly melted away as the 3 or 4 patrons learned that we had found their little town after traveling from New Mexico and Colorado. Corbin Cafe is the typical small- town dive I love, and I liked that it had "Corbin" in the title, as I could easily see my late- friend, Michael Corbin, loving the place!

We stayed for what I thought was a surprisingly long time chatting, and when we finally pulled ourselves away to find our ground for the night, Keith came after us carrying the Coke bottle I was using for spare water. I had left it sitting at the bar, and along with the forgotten water came an offer for beers if we chose to come back inside. That sounded damn good.

Two beers turned into us buying dinner... which of course turned into more beer. After an hour, we had an invitation to camp in the bartender's backyard, and the bar had begun to fill up for the Thursday night pool league. The bartender's name was Wendy, and thru the course of the night we met her boyfriend, Avery, as well as her daughter, Tiffanni, who were playing in the pool league. After two or three hours, the accommodations had been upgraded to Wendy's camper trailer: A bed!

Chris and I both had a grand time with the notion that all this had come about by simply stopping in to a place most would ignore to ask for water. We had also intentionally suspended frugality for the night concluding that it was worth the money to have a little genuine interaction with people. We were right. We had a great time. Everyone at the bar was unbelievably nice. They all knew each others names. And each others business. Keith had even went and put together a sort of care package, which was snack foods, along with packets of tuna and Spam. It was quite the gesture. I received a call from Ken early in the evening, saying that he was in Richmond, VA but would be driving through the night to try to make Boston by 7am. It was obvious that we were going to miss him, but I'm not sure we ever held out anything other than a faint glimmer of hope from the beginning. The topic had only rarely come up during the day.

After several beers, many conversations, several attempted playings of the Soggy Bottom Boys on the jukebox, and another full meal for Chris, Wendy and Avery were ready to head home at about 11:30. That was perfect, since both of us were fading fast. Wendy lives in Tuckahoe, about a mile down the road we'd just walked, and once there we were quickly shown to the camper accompanied by a not so- subtle hint to "leave it as we found it!" I love direct people! Once my head hit a real pillow, it was no time at all until I was out.

4/29: Seaville, NJ

I got a good night's sleep, and awoke refreshed & in much better spirits. The weather, however, had gone toward Hell. We knew the happy days of sweaty sun were behind us for a bit, and had actually expected it to rain overnight, but it had held off, being windy and cool as we broke camp in the reeds.

The first order of business was breakfast at Dock Mike's cafe, which is right on Cape May harbor. I had a spinach omelet, and chuckled to myself when I realized that, judging by one of the barnacles, it appeared Popeye himself had dropped anchor outside.

The omelet and multiple cups of coffee were fantastic, and so was our waitress Dottie. She kept the coffee coming as Chris and I discussed things, including my mental menstruation of the day before. It seemed after some reflection that we were entering a new phase, and not just New Jersey. The methodology had been handled... now, perhaps, it would be money and, most importantly, how to generate it.

Just before 11, we left Dock Mike's fully fed and with the literal and figurative batteries charged.
The weather had become decidedly wetter during our visit with Dottie, with 40- 50 mph gusts off the Atlantic. The temps were now in the low- 50s, which felt like 20 after getting used to low- 90's. I began to seriously question the wisdom of mailing the seemingly extra coat home the day before, as I would have now used it beneath my rain jacket.

We elected not to walk the mile into town for the library, instead walking back over the bridge to try for a ride toward Atlantic City & New York... again. We were there perhaps an hour, having a grand time in all our inept glory, when a state cop pulled over and politely asked what we were doing. With my cynicism toward police still festering, I just assumed he was either a) a smartass or b) a nimrod; neither being good breeding traits in lawdogs. He was polite, and never asked for ID, even after he told me, half- smiling, that we couldn't hitchhike... anywhere in New Jersey. It was illegal in the entire state.

Well... shit.

He did happen to have a NJ Transit schedule in his seat- sack of piggie treats, so we took one, quickly agreed that Cape May held no further treasures, and that taking a $4.75 bus to Atlantic City would be a good idea. We walked BACK over the damn bridge for the last time and made our rain- soaked way downtown to the bus station, getting there ten minutes before it left.

I spent the ride north just writing. Just as I had finished, we discovered that the next stop was a Parkway Service Center/ commuter park 'n ride. Since I had kept my head buried in Pocketmail, I assumed we were close to A.C., and before we knew it, we had made an almost unconscious decision to get off right there and skip the Adventures of Atlantic City. This seemed to amuse the driver, who pointed out that we had paid all the way to AC. Only later would I realize we were barely half- way there. Behold! fiscal genius at work.

The service center was at least pathetic, and perhaps even toxic. The restroom/ Roy Rogers area closed at six, and there was next to no traffic. But, there was an Information Center where we decided, finally, to get a map. But only because it was free. I find it slightly amusing and mildly troubling that I will spend money on cigarettes, but not a fucking map. Something is askew...

After an hour or two, and using our trusty (sort of) new map, Magellan realized that US- 9 was just west of us, running next to the Parkway an open field away. By now, it was getting late and cold. The plan: get on route 9, find a spot, have a hot meal, get a good start on Thursday. For once a plan went... as planned.

After eating and setting up camp, I did get a surprise call from Ken saying that he was headed from Miami, thru New York City, and all the way to Boston, via I-95. We could ride the rest of the way with him if we got to the interstate. That would save Chris's mom a trip, and be neat to get the three of us together. It didn't seem completely out of the realm of possibility that we may possibly get there the next day, and gave us something to strive for on Thursday...

4/28: Cape May, NJ

Quite an odd day considering the euphoria of the night before. A day that started poorly, for no apparent reason, then improved gradually as the day went on, but I never quite got on track.
I initially awoke at about 8:30, again, but ornery as hell. I remember thinking that I "should" be in a better mood, so just blamed it on the fact we were up so late, or maybe that I was by now out of cigarettes, and hated the fact that it would nag at me non- stop until I got them... forcing a premature trip to Wawa. Slave says what? Rolling over and sleeping for a another hour or two didn't seem to help.

Once up and moving around, as Chris put it, I was just generally agitated at nothing in particular; everything in general. So, I tried to find answers to non- existent "problems." "Problems" like how we were getting out of Cape May, and how things would go once we got to New York. Thinking that was completely foreign to the revelations of previous days, and worse, I knew that thinking was horseshit. Yet, there was apparently nothing I could do about it. I kept repeating, "I have no idea where I am today."

As the day's activities began, things got better. My heel was performing heroically sans liner, so walking was a breeze. Plus, I lightened up a bit by sending my extra jacket home. Seemed like a good idea at the time.

After an hour at Wawa indulging in my vices, coffee and cigarettes, we decided to make our way toward the Route 9/ Garden State Parkway confluence to try for a ride toward Atlantic City and New York. We had fun sitting by the side of the road, but got nowhere.

From there, we began chasing visions of reliving the night before, only on the Atlantic side of Cape May, but grossly underestimated how far it was. We made it as far as the Parkway, then walked over a bridge onto a little island that may have been called Striper Island, but I'm not sure. We wandered toward the harbor, docks, and charter yachts where we began contemplating money- making schemes involving boats... concepts that have been with us from the beginning. We also noticed a little diner that was closed, but would be open in the morning. Chris suggested that we get up early and return to it for breakfast and to catch the fishermen. I thought that was a fine plan, since that meant camping nearby.

We hiked the short distance to a boat launch, then ducked down toward and along a sandy embankment/ river beach as the sun began to set. We found a place to camp behind a business and some houses where we decided to throw down in some reeds. We had a quick bite, chatted about the day, wrote, then dozed off to sleep. I was ready for this confusing, disconnected day to end.

4/27: New Jersey

We lingered in the sun for just over an hour while waiting for the 4:15 ferry across Delaware Bay to Cape May, NJ. This felt like a significant step to me after being focused on the act of just getting there for nearly a week.

The ferry itself is a commuter that mostly transports drivers between NJ and Delaware, so we may have been the only actual foot- passengers aboard.
The crossing itself takes 80- minutes, and with the perfect weather, gave us an opportunity to wander about, take pictures and just relax, basking in our badassitude. I also discovered that my heel had healed to where I could wear my boots once again, and was able to determine that much of my misery was likely caused by my sock liners... that were supposed to prevent blisters!

Once off the ferry, I filled up on water to the sounds of Glenn Beck preaching Gloom 'n Doom over the Apocalypse of the Month: Swine Flu. We both recited in unison the line from "V for Vendetta": "I want everyone to remember WHY THEY NEED US!" I wondered what new "legislation" would be sure to follow on the heels of this, and in advance of the implementation of Codex Alimentarius in December. Not that anyone will care, of course.

From the ferry terminal, it was off to find beach, and hopefully bikini. We never found the Tropicana models, but boy, did we ever find the beach. Not even a mile away, on the Bay side of the Jersey peninsula. This meant that we could cook Chris's concoction of rice and mac & cheese (there ya are, Steve!), and watch an intense sunset while alternating between camera and spork.

The beach was nearly deserted, save dog walkers, a couple of families, and the typical sunset watchers. There were also rolling mini- dunes directly behind us which, with a little sly action, would provide the ultimate camp site for the night. We are not short on sly.

We waited until the beach was deserted, which was a matter of minutes after sunset, then walked a couple hundred yards away from the access until we found the perfect spot. In the bivies we'd be hidden from morning beach traffic, but still have a grand view of the ocean, moon, and sky full of stars. Not to mention the sounds of surf all night. I could not have painted a more perfect place.

Once nestled in, there was a funny, familiar scene replayed in duplicate. We were ecstatic, and began to call people in a vain attempt to share the joy. Just as I had called Chris, Eric, & Shalain from the beach in Santa Barbara, and while riding the freight train thru Oregon. We felt like we were absolutely tuned in and, in an odd way, like we were being "rewarded" for our patience, calm, and serenity of method over the past couple of days. We were fully immersed in that same joy and rush of pure energy that we had tapped into in Albuquerque, and tried to articulate between ourselves where it was coming from. It again, as always it seems, came back to the side- car analogy. Taking the role of the ultimate observer in the drama that is your own life... and not getting caught up in the mundane, bullshit- details that consume us most of the time. It was a striking conversation that perfectly complimented the night before, at the state park in Denton.

We were up chatting on adrenaline until nearly 2am, and just before fading away, I had one of my "wake 'n sleep" moments. This happens when the comparison of the place I awoke with the place I went to sleep is dramatic. From the woods in Maryland, to the ocean in New Jersey. Nice!

Fittingly, one of the observations that were made surrounded how struggle helps to highlight these moments of mini- enlightenment. If everyday were like this, they would be meaningless. Tuesday would be a stark reminder of this for me.

4/27: Delaware

This day will go down into my personal Hall of Fame, right up there with the train ride, Florian, Pat, Ciel, and Ken.

After the events of the night before, I awoke at the familiar time of 8:30 in a fittingly calm state of mind with the impressions, conversations, and realizations still resonating loudly in my head.

I was in no rush to do anything. In fact, one could infer that I was just dragging my feet. That was far from the case, I simply felt... synchronized. Doing things in their own time, and it was good! Chris was in the same state, and it took us nearly 4- hours to eat, shower, shave, and re- pack. The weather was again nearly perfect, for me anyhow, with a blazing sun and approaching 90 by the time we left the campground- at around noon.

We set up again on 404, but further out of town than before. We were now completely away from the Food Lion and Shell station, by a stop light. We figured that if we had no luck here, we'd try to swoon some unsuspecting Lewes- bound traveler at Food Lion but, after finally getting our thumbs in the air to go along with our sign, the idea quickly became moot.

We had only been there for 30- 45 minutes when a Prius pulled over and offered to take us as far as Laurel, Delaware. He assured us that Laurel's route 13 would take us straight to Lewes, and that Laurel was about half way there. That was good enough for us, and we were finally leaving the hospitality of Denton, and Maryland, behind us.

Brian looked to be in his mid- 20's, and was the perfect person to be our first ride. He is a biology grad who had recently returned from Osaka, Japan where he had taught English. Portland and Nicaragua were also on his list of possibilities. We got a kick out of that, especially considering our Latin America aspirations. He was very, very interesting to chat with, and we both felt that we would have enjoyed getting to know him more, if only we had longer than 30 or 40 minutes. He got our cards, and he's one I genuinely hope makes it to the website.

Brian dropped us at a busy intersection in Laurel, right at route 9, and hurried off to his dental appointment. Chris and I crossed the highway, bypassing the gas station, finding a sign that said "No Stopping or Standing". We found this appropriate... since we'd be sitting.

We never got to even sit down; Ben and John are now officially the quickest ride I have ever gotten. They had seen us walking, and turned around to catch us offering to take us to Georgetown, about half of the remaining 28 miles to Lewes. These two seemed to be a couple of guys that I would love to guzzle beer with. Ben was a direct, borderline abrasive, guy that told you precisely what he thought whether you liked it or not. I liked his authenticity immediately, and felt right at home. John was a big guy who reminded me of my nephew. He struck me as a person who liked the notion that he has a rough exterior, but once you got to know him, you would realize that there was much more to him. I enjoyed this ride immensely, and when Ben said he would have taken us all the way to the Lewes Ferry if he had more gas, I was more than happy to offer him $5 to finish this leg of the trip. He accepted, and before long we were all the way thru Delaware and sitting in front of the Lewes- Cape May Ferry terminal. I snapped their picture, and we were off to get our $10 tickets.

We had gotten thru Delaware in less than 2- hours, and I had not gotten to get to know it nearly as well as eastern Maryland. I did see enough to realize that it is a pretty, albeit flat, state with a very "Oregon" vibe. I had not seen much, but liked what I did!

4/26: A Day in Denton

This is the day that we may, quite possibly, look back upon as the day we hit our stride.
After our conversation Saturday, we awoke in the field with a decidedly different mentality: relaxed & unhurried; side- car passengers. We had been working into a pattern of rising earlier, and were up and out of bivy on our way to the Shell station by 9:30. The dayplan: hitching a ride. My heel needed a break, and Chris was enthusiastically taking to the Relax- Enjoy- Slow Down method. This day had a much different feel to it than the rest.

The weather was sweltering, with a blistering sun, and temps hovering in the low 90's all day. We set up on the Shell's sidewalk, a ways away from the entrance, and spent the first part of the day writing, chatting, and just enjoying the, for lack of a better phrase, liberation of surrender to fate. I knew we'd get out eventually but I was smitten with Denton, so even if it took a day or three, my heel would be healing the entire time and I'd come out the other end better off.

We began by essentially replaying my first days in Ft. Morgan last May. Just hanging out, making use of the handy water- spicket to keep cool, while minding our own business hoping to strike up a conversation that would lead to Lewes. With a similar result as Ft. Morgan: Sunburn. We eventually made up a sign that said "Lewes", to no avail, and around 3 decided to change locales, to the roadway.

We leaned Chris's pack, with sign attached, against a sign post then reclined against the guardrail for the rest of the afternoon. Not once did we raise a thumb... again repeating the ineffective tactics from early in last year's trip. Inexplicable.

There were a few humorous moments, mostly borne from boredom and borderline heatstroke. We created our hitchhiker boy- band characters. I was going to be the brooding, quiet, sensitive one (getting all the chick's moms) who would ride in the pickup bed. Chris would be the pretty, affable one who had all the 13- year olds swooning. He would also be the one who entertained the driver. I'm not sure he was happy with the casting.

Another was the Saga of Nibblitz. For Bill, and all the other South Park fans, Nibblitz would be the Kenny of squirrels. I was entertaining myself by trying to toss peanuts into Chris's hiking boots, when one or two went into the highway. The narrative then developed about how the friendly, cuddly, creature- Nibblitz- would bound happily into the highway chasing his bounty of nuts, then would promptly be flattened by an environmentalist in a Prius. Like Kenny however, Nibblitz would be resurrected to die another day. It would later be from cardiac arrest after spilling some instant coffee on the ground. Ahh, hitching.

Ultimately, Chris decided we should wander back to Food Lion, where we would be curiosities rather than hitchers. I reluctantly agreed, acknowledging that we had not exactly blazed a trail east using the current technique. If Food Lion failed, we'd then wander toward Martinak State Park, which was perhaps a mile away, since there was also a compound the librarian had referred to as The Brotherhood adjacent to it. We did manage to meet some kids in their late teens or twenties who thought we were completely awesome, and as I overheard them say on the way to their car, "two of the coolest fuckers ever." They obviously had heard our boyband.

Other than adolescent idolatry, nothing came of the Food Lion trip. We bought the night's "dinner" at the Dollar General, and began to make our way toward the "Brotherhood" and the state park as the sun fell. I discovered through the day that I could walk quite well in my sandals, so I strapped my boots to Elmo and steadily hobbled along.

The Brotherhood and the state park lie down a sleepy side road, about a half mile off 404. As the road got darker, I began to wonder what other meanings there could be to "Brotherhood". We weren't in Mississippi, so I thought it unlikely that this wholesome librarian was sending us to the doorstep of the Grand Dragon of the Maryland Chapter of Hooded Klansmen. As we arrived however, I confess I saw the scene from O Brother, Where Art Thou, where they stumble onto the meeting. The sign signified that this was a camp of some sort, rather than a shelter, run by the Church of the Brethren: Brotherhood. The driveway leading to it was ungodly, and rather cultish, so we decided to skip the sure spiritual enlightenment in favor of Martinak State Park.

As we arrived, we saw that there was a Day Use sign posted, which brought back memories of Muir Beach. We had also been scoping for stealth camping sights along the road, but I was quite ill- equipped to be trekking around the woods with ticks and Widows... since I was sock- less and in sandles. We were unsure about how to proceed at this point, so we flagged down an RVer who happened to be leaving to ask about camping. I believe the sight of two dirty vagabonds appearing out of the dark frightened him, as he refused to roll his window down any further than a crack. As soon as he left, fate intervened. A man had apparently noticed us lingering and was walking down to check on us.

Bob used to be a Park Ranger, and still lived on the property. He seemed a bit suspicious at first, but when we told him what we were doing and we were seeking accommodations, he turned into one of the friendliest people we've met. He told us that there was indeed camping, then personally led us to the spots. We quickly determined that we would probably be paying for the site, so just decided to go with it. The campground was nearly deserted, so we had our choice of sites. We had just set our packs down, when Paul drove in.

Paul was the Park Ranger on duty for the night, and again, beyond friendly and helpful. Must be something in the Denton water. We told him about the website, a few of our experiences, and pretty soon, we were all laughing like we were old schoolmates! When I told him about my heel, he took me to the truck and provided first- aid supplies from the most bountiful kit ever assembled. He then pointed out the SHOWERS (!), then offered use of the washer & dryer! It gets better. When I asked him the about registration and payment, he said we'd already done it. We had a slab of ground nestled in a piece of Maryland Heaven... for free. Again, it seemed like things had laid out perfectly... all we had to do was follow. That would most certainly continue.

When Paul left, we were aglow. This mindset was paying dividends, and I was thrilled to see Chris notice, then embrace it thru the day. We spent the rest of the night next to a fire and watching spider- eyes glow in the grass.

I Love Denton.. pay a visit sometime!

4/25: Denton, MD

I initially thought I would be writing a virtual novel for this post, but instead I'm going to refer you to Chris's posts. He spent all morning writing about the mental gymnastics of Friday and Saturday, and articulated it perfectly. There's no use writing virtually the same thing here, other than to add that it's funny how often these little psyche- disturbances turn out to be valuable indicators that you're off course.

I point to that when trying to explain to people why I was so miserable doing radio; miserable to the point of hurling stacks of CDs across the studio, becoming (even more of) a total prick to work with ... and not being able to explain why. I firmly believe many people suffer from this peculiar affliction, but are ill- equipped (or afraid) to investigate it. Instead they accept the notion that they're simply "depressed", and run to the pharmacy, or do nothing until the pain becomes to great to bear. I can empathize with that, and it deserves more pity than criticism; it's how we're engineered. In that sense too, those whose barometer is active are blessed.

Saturday was a bit more difficult for me than the previous 12- days, and it was due "solely" to my feet, my left heel in particular, which had been getting progressively worse since Tuesday. It's a chronic problem, unless I have shoes that fit perfectly, and are broken in before I engage in marathon walking sessions. I'm using the same boots that I used last year, with great success, but I purchased them a scant two days before we left, so the leather had not had time to mold to my feet. After our chat Saturday morning (Chris's post), I had some miles left in me, yet was running short on blister- dressing. I was reusing the same bandage, simply adding more duct tape to secure it. That made it bearable but, after the few miles into Denton, I realized the tape was preventing air- circulation causing a problem of its own. Loose skin now spread the entire span of my heel. The actual blister was healing very well, but where the loose skin was meeting the intact skin was cracking, causing even more pain.

After Saturday morning's hurried, narrow escape from Hillsboro's abundance of Black Widows and ticks, I'm nearly in love with Denton. It reminds me of Pleasantville, without the creepy- factor. Our first stop was the library where we found some of the friendliest & helpful librarian folks you'll ever see. After two hours of Internet, and cell/ camera charging, they pointed us in the direction of the pharmacy, where I could buy some Moleskins. We walked about half way there when we got our first ride from a special- kind- of- crazy local and his wife, who were on their way to the store too.

Rite Aid happens to be literally next door to Food Lion, so we could conveniently replenish our dwindling food. Only after purchasing everything did we realize that there was a Dollar General two- doors the other way. I had learned the usefulness of the Dollar Stores from my carnie friends. Carnies are not the most savory of creatures, but one of their redeeming qualities is a special kind of fiscal savvy. You need that spend- thriftiness when your first priority is beer (or heroin) AND you plan to eat!

After the shopping, re- packing, and re- re- bandaging chores were completed, my heel began to dry, making it extremely painful to walk. We had come to the conclusion that we were going to set up Camp Denton, and begin the attempt of hitching to Lewes. This reminds me a bit of my central- Idaho experience last year, except there are no trucks to hope for, and no Mormons to fear me. Hitcher says, "Boo!" Hitcher also thought this may take awhile.

By sundown, the Food Lion shopping center had taken on the "small- town Saturday- prom night" vibe. I was feeling rather traumatized after dealing with pain all day, so we crossed paths with a pack of feral cats feasting on Food Lion waste, and found a place to camp hoping to get an early jump on Sunday.