Lady Goes Walkabout - Last Chapter

Last chapter, Lady Goes Walkabout

Day 33

I am home.  I unpacked, did my laundry, and sat down on the couch.  I thought I would just rest a moment but the next thing I knew it was dark and my tummy was rumbling.  I must have been pretty tired, because now after supper I am ready for bed again.  I have a meeting tomorrow with my advisor to talk with her about my new thesis plan, and I have a list of books to search for at the library. I also have a meeting with the principal of a local elementary school where I have to teach a semester of reading for the education section of my degree. 

  I know the depression can return, and I have to watch out for that, but I also know ways to avoid it.  Walking every day helps, or at least sitting outside on the porch, when there isn’t time for a full on walk.  I plan to start a hiking club, or join one if there is one already started.  I have plans.

Day 34

After working my way through my list, meeting with my advisor and such, I found a hiking club.  I called, and signed up to backpack with them on Saturday and Sunday.  I am excited; I will be backpacking with other people who know what they are doing.  I should learn a lot.  I had better pack carefully; I don’t want anyone saying I was carrying too much, or saying I didn’t know what to do.  I borrowed a backpack, a real one, and I spent all day today packing and repacking for best use.  I kept reminding myself that I had hiked, basically backpacked, for three days on the side of the road.  Even so, I wanted to look prepared.  Tomorrow we were meeting on campus, and driving up to the Georgia Mountains to start our hike.  

Day 35-36

I am back home, rested and happy.  Our weekend backpacking trip was wonderful.  We drove up to the north GA Mountains, found the correct spot to park, and pulled packs and boots and such out of all our cars.  I put on my new to me pack.  It was heavy, but not too heavy.  I wiggled around some, adjusted the straps, and tightened the belt.  The group hiking included three men, a married couple, and another girl.  We took a few minutes to get acquainted.  I was the only new person in the group, and they all reminded me to rest as needed, to let them know if I needed to stop at times.  We started walking, and fairly quickly the trail turned and began climbing uphill.  I was used to hiking out west, and here in Georgia the trees were tall and squeezing in.  All that greenery and living pulsing plants made it a little hard to breathe, but as I walked I found the beauty of the deep and green woods.  The air was hot and sticky, and sweat dripped from my nose and chin.  After an hour of hiking I felt settled into a pace, and was enjoying the walk.  I love the rhythm of walking, of feeling the feet pass along the ground.  Step, step step, I could do this all the way to Maine.  Of course, we only had 2 days.  At the top of a ridge we all stopped to drink water and snack.  My hiking buddies were very interesting.  They thought it was funny that I lived in Georgia, and yet found the close trees oppressive.  

At the end of the day we reached the camping area.  It was down in a valley, and the trees were more spread apart.  A shallow wide creek ran by the spot.  Each of us dropped our backpacks, and heaved collective sighs of pleasure.  There was nothing better than taking the heavy weight off of my back, and feeling cool air blow across my sweaty skin.  I began looking through my pack, pleased with my light planning.  One of the men in the group opened his pack, looked around at us smugly and pulled out of the pack a huge, heavy cast iron dutch oven.  It was so heavy it clanged on the ground as he put it down.  My eyes opened wide.  

“You carried that, that pot, all the way?”

All the guys laughed.  

“How on earth?  I spent hours planning and making my pack as light as possible.” I protested.

They laughed again.  One of the other guys in the group answered.  “We all wanted to eat his dutch oven cobbler, the best food ever.  To do this, we shared carrying all his stuff, so he could carry that and the cans of peaches.”

“You will see after supper, it will be worth it, every hernia and every extra pound.  Trust me!”

We set up our tents and cooked our meals.  The dutch oven man built a fire, and let the fire settle into hot coals.  He lined the oven with tin foil, and began dumping canned peaches into the pot.  He mixed a cake mix, without eggs, and covered the fruit.  While we relaxed, and rested, the wonderful aroma of cobbler teased us.  Finally it was done and we all ate every bite.  

“Next time, who will carry the ice cream?”

In the morning we woke slowly, and after breakfast we walked uphill and out to a lovely view of the entire mountain area.  The cobbler man, or dutch oven man, pointed out way off into the distance.  

“Our trail continues on that way for miles and miles.  It joins the Appalachian trail and then of course continues on all the way to Maine.”

“Have any of you done that, hiked all the way?” I asked.

“No, none of us, but some of us have walked a long way, several weeks worth.”

“We have all dreamed of it, and now you will too.  Welcome to our club.”

They were right, as we hiked back down off the mountain and reached our cars, my mind was wandering the other way, heading north.

Day 37

School starts in a week.  My roommates are back.  I decided to treat them to a surprise welcome home party. I fixed a fire in my fire ring I had set up in the backyard.  We speared hot dogs and roasted them in the flames.   We laughed, and shared our summer stories.  When the fire turned to coals I started the cobbler recipe, having borrowed the dutch oven from my hiking friends.  We sat around the fire, listening to the crack of flames, watching the shadows dance around us, and marveled that we were only in our backyard.  I could hear a neighbor clanging around in his garage, and every once in a while we heard a car drive by.  Lightning bugs flicked on and off, and the cobbler cooked.  

            Katie sighed, “This is a perfect evening.  I feel ready for the new year at school but I also never want to leave this backyard.”

            I told her I understood completely.  Once the cobbler was done I spooned the gooey peaches and cake out to everyone, and we enjoyed our meal, eating together under the stars and branches of the tall trees.  The sweet southern evening settled around us, and we were content.

            Day one of teaching in the elementary school

A week has passed and a lot has happened.  First we started our first semester of our last year of graduate school.  I began reading and working on my thesis, changing the theme to travel literature.  No longer teaching college classes, I now was teaching elementary kids in a tough city school.  I was given freedom to choose my own books and curriculum, since my teaching was also a training for me, but I was warned, these city kids are not going to be interested in the same books as you like.  What does that even mean? Inner city kids, stuck at home while single parents work, or tossed between a parent and grandparent, or whatever awful situation they have, they are not going to care about reading?  Or at least not reading what I read?  Maybe these kids just haven’t been given the chance to care.  We shall see.

This morning was the first day of school with students.  I walked into my classroom, looked around at the tidy desks, the decorated walls, and stacks of books along the walls.  It was peaceful, and ready.  The room brimmed with potential, and all it needed was life, the energy of young minds ready to learn.  A bell rang, and a roar was heard.  All at once a crowd of young faces, all dressed in matching blue shirts and dark blue pants pushed into the room.  Once everyone was sitting down, a level of quiet settled over the room.  Each face stared at me, curious, or carefully not interested, each one waiting to see.  I was new, the unknown quantity.  Would I make a good year for them, or a long and dull one? 

I quieted the students, introduced myself, and asked, “Who here has read the book  'My Side of the Mountain?'  We are going to head off onto an adventure, one book at a time.”

I passed out the student copies.  The cover of the book shows a boy in the woods, holding one hand up in the air.  He has on a leather glove, and just above his hand flies a hawk.  From the artwork you can tell that the hawk had been sitting on the boys hand, and was now flying free.  

It was a great day!  I hope to see those students someday out on the trails.  And now, I have a work book to fill out, plans to make, and a hike to start.  Thanks for reading this journal, and I hope your adventures lead to good places!

Chapter 5 of Lady Goes Walkabout

 Chapter 1, click here.

In case you haven't figured this out, her life is my daydream life :)

Day 26

This morning while drinking my coffee I looked in my book and I couldn’t find a single campground within 10 – 15 miles of the spot I slept in last night.  I could either walk back to the town that had my car, or just walk forward and see where I end up.  Looking at the map I drew a kind of triangle, connecting the campground to the car and adding a third point about 10 miles away.  Then I packed up and just started walking. My heart raced with the distance I was putting between myself and the campground, the car, and all that represented safety.  Even so, I walked.  I walked along a dusty and empty road.  It was a beautiful day, with a few clouds and breezes, but no threat of rain.  I came to a small town and stopped in a city park to rest.  A family was enjoying the pretty day, a father and mother and two small children.  They looked at me, but didn’t seem bothered.  I pulled out my lunch, and pulled off my shoes.  I ate and leaned back on the grass.  After a while the father walked over to me.  

“Howdy,”  he smiled, “my wife and I were wondering if you were lost.  If you need help?”

I was a little embarrassed, I am sure I had a bit of a homeless look to me.

“No, I am fine.  I am walking, out exploring the country.”

He nodded.  “I have read about a few people doing that.  Are you crossing the entire country?  Where did you start?”

I really wished I could say I had walked from Georgia, but I told him my true story.  His wife came over and the three of us sat in the grass watching the children and visiting.  They seemed impressed.  

“I think I would be scared,” the wife said, “but at the same time it sounds like you are having quite an adventure.  You should take pictures and write a blog.”

“I have a blog, not sure how good it is though.”  I shared my website, and we exchanged email addresses..  They gathered the children and loaded them into their car.  “Have a wonderful trip!”  The wife walked back to me and handed me a small bag.  “This is for you.  I am sure you will enjoy it better than us.”

I waved goodbye to them.  Meeting people was a surprising but fun part of this trip.  I looked in the bag.  It was full of snacks, probably gathered to keep the kids happy in the car.  I ate the animal crackers right away, and the candy bar.  I put the fruit roll ups and the fruit drinks in my pack for later.  At the bottom of the bag, wrinkled up, was a piece of paper.  I opened the paper to find a $20 bill and a note.
            “Enjoy the walk, and have a pizza on us when you get the chance.”

Day 27

After the lunch in the park I walked farther into the country.  As the evening came on I started thinking about where to sleep.  Could I just set up my tent in a field by the road?  What if the field belonged to someone and he came along, upset with me.  Or, what if a policeman thought I was homeless and arrested me.  Would they arrest me?  I had no idea.  I kept walking, and after a while I saw a pretty farm house just off the road.  My heart started pounding nervously as I began to have an idea.  I had to sleep somewhere.  I didn’t want it to become dark while I just wandered.  I took off my pack, ran my hands through my hair as if that would help, and walked up to the front door.  After I knocked an older lady opened the door.  I smiled, tried to look harmless, and asked her if it would be OK to camp in the field down the road from her house.  I told her I was walking and camping across the state, and that at times no campground was nearby when I needed it.  I told her I would keep the area clean, and be out walking early the next morning.

She just looked at me, looked out at my pack, and then looked back at me again.  After a moment of hesitation she agreed. 

“We own all this land on this side of the road, so if you want to camp over by that large tree, I bet that would be a nice spot.  Just don’t make a mess.”

I thanked her over and over.  She offered to refill all my water bottles, and again I thanked her.  Then I walked over to the spot she showed me, under a nice wide tree.  I set up the tent and ate a big but cold dinner.  I sat under the tree and read a while, then wrote here.  Now I am going to sleep, very tired and sore.  This has been fun, and I am not sure I want my car back.  My feet, though, they might be ready for the car.

Day 28

I am back in the town and my car is working again.  I checked into a hotel and took my first shower in several days.  Now I am sitting on the porch of the hotel, looking out over the highway and writing.  Yesterday was magical.  I woke up early, like always, and packed up my gear.  I double-checked all around the tree to make sure it was clean. Since this was farmland, I was wondering where I could go to the bathroom, without causing any trouble.  During the night I had just peed near the tree, no mess, and no witnesses.  Now the sun was up.  I looked nervously over at the house, and noticed the lady standing on the porch.  She was looking my way, and when we met eyes she called out,  “Hey, walking lady, come here a minute.”

I walked back to the house.  The owner, a much older lady, had fixed a large breakfast for me, and brought it out to her porch on a tray.  She and I sat on the porch eating scrambled eggs, bacon, toast with home canned jelly, and drank orange juice.  It was the best breakfast I had ever had, much better than the fruit roll ups I had eaten earlier that morning.  She was friendly, and asked a lot of questions about my adventure.  Before I left she sent me inside to use her “real bathroom” as she put it.  I wished I had some gift to give her, but I thanked her over and over.  

I walked all day.  Before lunch it started raining, and I had to eat a soggy sandwich under a tree.  I put on my raincoat, but it was a hot day, and I quickly sweated and felt as wet as the rain.  The walk started off poorly.  I trudged along the side of the road, watching the raindrops bouncing off the dust and grass.  After a few minutes I discovered that watching the rain, feeling the rain, and accepting the rain made for a better mood.  The rain brought out the colors of the landscape, and the grey skies contrasted deeply with the wheat growing all around me.  I walked and soon the road was full of puddles.  I jumped right into the middle of the water, splashing and laughing.  I’m not sure when was the last time I had played in water, or even just laughed so hard.  Finally I just walked on, and now with every step I squished water out of my shoes.  That had been a bad idea, but a fun one.  I stopped and took off my shoes.  In the pack I had sandals, and I switched to that, and walked on.    The rain continued.  I took off my raincoat, and just reveled in the water.  I found myself laughing out loud.  The joy of the moment overcame the discomfort.  A car drove by, slowed down, saw that I was enjoying myself, tapped the horn, waved, and drove on.  Finally the rain stopped, and the water slowly evaporated from the road, the trees, and me.  When I arrived in town I looked a mess.  As I checked into the hotel the receptionist looked at me warily.  She double checked my credit card and conferred with the manager.  I didn’t care, I chatted about my day.  They must have decided I was crazy but since my car was at the local garage I was trustworthy.  Tomorrow I am going to the laundry mat and the library.  I want to get on my blog and change my name to “Walking Lady.”  I liked that.

Day 29

Looking at my blog I see that I have really touched several people struggling with depression.  This is a big topic, and one that seems to affect many.  Why we don’t do more to help these folks, or why do we feel so stigmatized that we don’t ask for help, reach out to those with answers?  I wanted to contact each person that had written to me about his or her depression.  I wanted to send them outside, make them touch trees and point their faces to the sun.  They needed to splash in the water, forget what others think, and find the joy of life.

            I tried to write a message that conveyed that thought.  I wrote about my two day walk without my car, and about how I had felt so helpless at first, and then I realized I was only helpless if I chose to be.  I also wrote about seeking professional help.  After all, my adventure started in a counseling session.  I wonder what that doctor would think of me splashing in mud puddles half a country away.  After that thought, I put my doctors email address in the computer and sent her a link to my blog.  I sent a personal email to each person that had written to me.   

            I spent nearly the entire day in the library, reading other blogs about walking and the healing aspect of nature.  I wondered if I had found something new, but of course many people understood the relationship to mood and the outdoors.  I settled into a comfortable chair with a couple of books and passed the rest of the day immersed in ideas.  Finally the librarian tapped me on the shoulder to let me know it was closing time.  I walked back to the hotel, and sat on my bed.  A hotel can be a dreary place, and usually I have a disconnected feeling when staying in one.  Tonight my head was swimming with possibilities.  

Day 30

            I decided to start driving back towards home.  I wanted to try some kind of walking near the house, maybe walk several days from my home to a hiking trail, and then follow the trail for several days, and after that the fall session of school would be beginning.  I had teaching responsibilities, and of course my last year of graduate school to finish.  I thought about starting a hiking club, or an outdoor club.  It would be aimed at women, because we are less likely to get outside, and more likely to suffer depression.  

While driving back towards and through Texas I tried to imagine how I could use what I had learned.  Even harder, I tried to quantify what I had learned.  I felt like I had grown, and gained in knowledge, but I couldn’t explain in what way.  If I couldn’t verbalize my new ideas, did I really have new ideas?  Maybe it was just a feeling, and feelings just come and go with the wind.

            Still, I felt better and I wasn’t afraid of my feelings anymore.  That had to count for something.  I had learned little things, such as to keep an eye on the gas needle when in Texas.  After pumping gas I pulled out the map and looked for a campground.  I found one outside of Amarillo, and drove on.  

            After setting up my tent I walked, as usual.  I walked around the campsites, and then found a nature trail.  This part of Texas was flat, and the walk was easy.  I passed a group of men also out walking along the trail.  I walked on under some trees, and stopped at the edge of a creek.  The water was shallow, and bugs were skating on the surface.  The men walked by me, and stopped just on the other side of the creek.

            “Howdy ma’am.  Are you enjoying the walk?”  one of the men asked.

            “yes, it is nice out here.”  

            “We are having a campfire at our site tonight, you are welcome to join us.”

            “thanks.”  

            “Are you on your own?”  a different guy asked.

            I hesitated.  How should I answer that?  Of course I am alone, but I was out in the woods, facing 5 guys.  

            The speaker may have noticed my nervousness.  He looked at his friends, and then spoke.  “It doesn’t matter either way, but if you have friends with you, bring them.  If not, come anyway.  We are pretty much inviting all the people that don’t sit inside their campers watching tv.  It is a chance to visit and get to know other outdoorsy people.  Hope to see you later, when it gets dark.  Oh, and bring a chair if you have one.  We are at site number 42.”

            They walked on and after a few minutes I returned to my tent.  I hated that I had felt afraid, but at the same time it was good to be cautious.  

            I ate my meal, and kept an eye on campsite number 42.  They guys started a fire, and pulled out several chairs.  I waited, and after a few minutes a couple walked over and joined them.  Pretty soon the fire was high, and the people were laughing.  Two girls walked over, and after that another couple joined the group.  I picked up my chair.  It was time to get to know new people.

Day 31

            I am glad I walked over and joined the group.  I love traveling alone, and having time with my thoughts, but also I need other people at times.  Everyone I met last night was friendly, and easygoing.  We didn’t have to know names.  We just enjoyed sharing stories and adventures from our travels.  Those poor people thought I was some kind of outdoor maven, when they heard I had walked for 3 days without car or plan.  To me it still sounded sort of crazy, but each person there seemed to love the idea.  I found out from one of the guys that quite a few people have walked across America, and there are several books and blogs about their experiences.  I had new plans for my reading list, and to the amusement of all,  I copied down titles of books, writing by firelight.

            This morning as I was, as usual, enjoying my coffee when one of the guys walked over to my site and sat down at my picnic table.  I was sitting in a camp chair closer to the fire pit, where I could see the sun rise over a grassy field.  He asked if I minded visiting for a few minutes.  They were about to pack up and head off to return to their college classes.  It was the guy that had noticed my hesitation in answering if I was alone or not.  He wanted to apologize for making me feel nervous, and he wanted to tell me a story.  I heated up more water and fixed him a cup of coffee.

            His name is Matt, and his sister is Melissa.  When they were young, maybe 10 and 8, he and Melissa read a book called My Side of the Mountain.  The main character of this book had run away to live on the family mountain.  He fished for food, made acorn pancakes, lived in a tree he had burned out, and hunted with a falcon.  I immediately wrote this book title down with the other books from last night.  Matt laughed and said, “So, are you an English teacher?”

            “Actually I am.’ I replied.

            He continued his story.  He and his sister decided to do the same thing.  They lived in a neighborhood on the edge of undeveloped woods, and after a day of planning they left a note and walked off into the woods to be adventurers.  They had a wonderful day, and spent a very cold but fun night sleeping under the stars.  But, in the morning two very angry parents found the children and brought them home.

            And then Matt came to the point of his story.  His father had taken him aside to talk.  The father told Matt he understood the desire to run off into the woods, and test himself against nature.  He understood the need for adventure.  

“But”, said the dad, “You took your sister with you.  That was very dangerous.  The world is so much more dangerous for girls, and not only should you have not taken her out into the woods, you shouldn’t push her to want to do these things.  For her safety she needs to find other dreams, more appropriate for girls.”

            Matt had felt bad to expose his sister to those undisclosed extra dangers, and he felt bad that she wouldn’t be able to enjoy the outdoors the way he did.  It was several years later before he realized, or thought about the fact that the writer of the book that had caused all that trouble had been a woman.

            I thanked him for sharing.  I asked if his sister still liked the outdoors.  He shrugged a little.  “She gardens, and loves to plant flowers, but she really never wanted to run off into the woods again.” 

            “But,” said Matt, “I am going to tell her about you.  I think she will like to hear about a girl, a lady that walks wherever she wants.”

            “And,” I said, “I am going to teach that book to my students, and when I have a class of younger kids, I will always encourage boys and girls to enjoy the outside.  It may be more dangerous for us girls, but what it comes down to is we have to make a decision.  Do we let fears and what might happen, and could happen decide our future?  I really think I would rather have something bad happen and have lived, than to be safe and hide in my house all the time.  I just had not thought of it that way before.”

            After Matt returned to help his friends pack up their stuff, I pulled out this journal to write.  I have an idea for my graduate studies.  Instead of writing a thesis on something so dull as 19^th century authors, I could study and write about travel writers.  Or maybe books that encourage people to try new things, like the My Side of the Mountain book.  It is something to think about.

Day 32

I am nearly home.  I called the guy that was staying in our house, and he was fine with me returning early. He was tired of being in such a large house all alone anyway.  The roommates were returning in a couple of weeks, and then classes would start right after that.  The guy had found a job that started about the same time, and he would be leaving.  Such is the life of college students, and those that graduate.  People come, and people go.  I set up my tent in the same first campground that I had started in.  This time there was no rain, no snakes washing away, and no strange older couple sleeping in a tent.  This time the campground was full of girl scouts.  I had a great time watching as the girls and the leaders set up camp, chose girls to collect firewood and other girls to start dinner. They were loud, and they ran all over the place, but they were having fun.  After my talk yesterday with Matt, I was pleased to see all these girls taking over the woods.  Once the sun went down, flashlights came out, and I felt like I was surrounded by large bouncing lightning bugs.  One of the leaders came over to apologize to me, and I begged her to not worry, and to let the girls have their fun.  We talked some, and when she learned about my travels she invited me to hang out at their fire.  One girl fixed a S’More for me, and as I ate the melted marshmallow oozing over melted chocolate, I knew I never wanted these adventures to end.  Finally I was tired and had to return to my tent.  I wrote this by flashlight and now I shall sleep.

Lady Goes Walkabout chapter 4

Chapter 4 of Lady Goes Walkabout

Click here for chapter 1

Day 21

Today I entered Texas, long dry and hot.  I drove past rolling hills, and deep purple valleys.  Later the land flattened out, and I drove on and on.  It was a pretty day, and the driving was easy.  The drive was so pretty because there were few towns, few shops and few billboards.  I almost forgot to watch the gas tank.  When I checked it, it was about half empty.  I could not remember the last time I had seen a gas station.  It had been so good to drive along uncluttered and natural landscapes, but now I worried.  I drove and drove, watching the needle move closer to empty.  I began to feel a little dread, what would I do if I ran out of gas?  Should I stop before I run out?  What good would that do?  I kept driving, trying to maintain constant speed, hoping that would stretch my mileage out.  Finally, just as the needle hit the space right above E, I saw a station.  The gas price was high, but I didn’t care.  It was a relief, and a lesson learned.  

I drove so long that again I forgot to search for a more private campground, and again I ended up in a commercial site, right on the edge of town.  I was, again, the only tent in a sea of RV’s.  I set up, fixed a supper, and walked around looking at everyone’s camping homes.  Some of the RV’s were larger than my first apartment,  and some were small and cozy.  A few people carried hanging plants and cute flags that they set out in front of their doors.  That seemed a lot of work for a temporary place.  I passed a few people sitting outside, but most of them were either inside or out somewhere.  When I had paid for my campsite, I had learned that I could sign up for a tour of the local tourist spots.  I learned that we would have a group fire later in the night and the staff would provide the fixings for S’mores.  

I returned to my little home, and started writing here while the sun was setting.  Just before it got dark I heard a loud radio blaring “The Yellow Rose of Texas”.  A tractor pulling a trailer filled with hay was driving around past all the campsites, and all sorts of children came spilling out of their campers to ride.  The hay ride passed by me three times, filled with kids and serenading us with the music.  My first question was, where did these children come from, the entire campground had been quiet.  My second question was, who turned the music up so loud, and how could I stop him?  The hay ride ended in a field at the back of the campground, with a fire pit set up.  I watched the camping guides start the fire, and the kids and parents gather around.  I doubt I will get any sleep for quite a while.

Day 22

Last night I ended up walking over to the bonfire.  There is something uniting and uplifting about sitting around a fire, staring into the flames.  I ate one S’more, and I ended up visiting with a family that was driving across the country.  It was a mother and her three kids.  The campground hosts led us in songs and crazy skits, which I actually enjoyed but will never admit.  The mother, Sara, and I decided to share breakfast in the morning.  I woke up early, and drank my coffee in peace, not one person was stirring in the campground today.  Once I saw the mom and the kids moving around outside of their pop up I walked over with my contribution to the meal.  I had packaged oatmeal and a few bagels.  Sara seemed genuinely happy to see me, and we chatted while preparing the food. She had a pancake mix in a huge plastic container that she prepared at home for the trip.  We ended up eating pancakes, bacon, orange slices, and my oatmeal.  The kids started telling me all about their trip across the country.  It sounded like they were having a great adventure.  After breakfast and cleaning up the kids all decided to wander into the field to play some game with rules I couldn’t understand. Sara and I sat on the picnic table and chatted.  She told me she grew up backpacking, and to her camping was done out in the woods, no one around usually except her family.  They carried all that they needed, often cooked over the fire, and ended each evening quietly watching sunsets and enjoying fires.  

She and her children had decided to cross the country over the summer.  They already had a pop up camper, so they took that with them.  Mostly they were staying in the commercial campgrounds to save driving time.  She initially found herself not enjoying the trip because of all the distractions, such as the loud hayride of last night.  Then she realized her kids were having a great time, they were still playing in the woods or the outside, creating games as their imaginations led them.  They loved all the goofy activities, they made friends with other children, and sometimes they just wanted to sit inside the camper and relax with their books.  She chose places that had great day hikes, and pushed her children a little when needed.  It was turning out to be a perfect vacation with a mix of the campy and the serene.  The revelation that she had chosen to not enjoy the trip had hit her in another campground deep in the mountains of North Carolina. The kids had been invited to watch a movie in a neighbor’s RV and she had wanted to say no.  TV had nothing to do with her trip, the whole idea had been to escape from that lifestyle, but her children had become good friends with the neighbor kids and they wanted to share an activity together.  While they were all in watching the movie Sara had walked around the campground, like I do each night.  Many of the people in that place were semi permanent visitors; the campers were more like their vacation homes.  Each spot had a camper, with decorations and sometimes flowers in the mini yards.  Most of the campers had awnings and they had strung little lights along the awnings and the poles holding them up.  It made for a pretty rustic little town look.  She realized that night she was trying to impose only one view of enjoyment on her family, and she decided, while enjoying those lights, to just find the fun without judging.  Many styles of vacation, or travel were out there.  Her kids were having a great time, and now she would too.  They were still learning, bonding, and seeing places they had never seen before.

We ended up visiting until lunchtime.  She had a day hike and picnic planned, and I was invited.  Before leaving the little family began assembling peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to eat on the hike.  One of the daughters made two, and proudly handed it to me.  

“You are now one of us, the Have peanut butter will travel gang.”

They laughed, and it felt good to be included.  

Day 23

The hike with my new friends had been great.  I loved watching the kids as they saw new things.  Sara and I enjoyed adult conversation.  She told me the hardest part of this trip was only having children to talk with every day.  It was also what made the trip special, but every once in a while another adult was nice.  We hiked along a river, the pathway winding along with the water.  We heard and saw lots of birds.  Tall grasses covered the land as far as we could see.  It was fairly hot, but clouds formed off to the west.  Sarah kept an eye on the clouds, but didn’t seem bothered.  After some time we found a large boulder on the edge of the water, and that was such a perfect place for our lunch that without words we all climbed up and found comfortable spots.  The sandwiches were good, and we also had fruit and chips.  One of the daughters laughed and said,

”If mom isn’t careful we will get so tired of PB&J that we may never eat it again.”

“It is simple, and when traveling simple is best.” Sara replied.  

“I could go for a meat covered pizza right now,” said her son.

“Only if you carry it all the way out here.” 

“Yeah, but it might be a peanut butter pizza,” teased his sister.

The sky was blue, with only one corner of the sky in cloud.  The grasses were dusty green and the river a deeper blue.  I could not imagine anything better. 

“I could just stay here forever,”  I sighed.  “Thanks for letting me tag along.”

“The whole country has trails, every stop has at least public parks where you can walk.  Stopping every day like this you really get a feel for how the country changes.  You can see and feel the differences so much better than just taking an airplane and dropping into an environment, just so, without any context.”  

I agreed.  As much as I was enjoying this trip, this experiment, I had started doubting.  Why was I doing this?  Wouldn’t it be better to stay home, tend the house and yard, and just do whatever it was I always did?  But today, sitting on the rock with my new friends, I knew this trip was valuable, even if I couldn’t quantify why.

We hiked on for a while. As the clouds built up we turned back.  When we reached the parking area the wind picked up, and the air temperature cooled.  

“Perfect timing,” said Sara, as the rain began to fall.  The rain felt good on our dry skin, and the cool air was very welcome.  We laughed and turned our faces up to the sky.  I could actually see individual rain drops bending towards me as I looked up.  Finally the son spoke up, “Can you unlock the car mom?”

We climbed in, wet but happy, and drove back towards the campground.  

I thanked my new friends for a wonderful afternoon.  We had stopped along the way back for a quick fast food supper.  While eating we exchanged email addresses, and she gave me directions for an excellent hike further along my trip.  I hated saying goodbye, as we both were packing up and moving on in the morning, but I was so glad to have met them.

I climbed into my tent, snuggled into the sleeping bag, and listened to the rain hitting the rain fly.  It was wet outside, but I was dry.  It had been a great day, and now I was tired, in the good I have hiked kind of way.  I read a little, and of course am now writing in here.  Good night.

Day 24

While driving today I thought about some of the things Sara had said.  She was right in that crossing the country in a car gave me more insight into the changes as I passed through each state.  I wondered how much more I would learn and see if I were walking across the country.  The very idea sparked a level of enthusiasm in me, and I daydreamed for quite a while as the landscape became flatter and drier.  I stopped for lunch at a public park, and in memory of my new friends I ate a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.  After lunch I walked a little around town, looking in the windows of shops and peeking into the yards of homes.  I was from Georgia, where well-watered grass was a sign of a good and diligent homeowner.  Out here, in the desert landscape, very few people had grass; it wasn’t natural.  Grass was a greedy water guzzler, and it wasn’t worth it.  The yards were landscaped with plants that could tolerate the drier weather.  As I walked I passed one home with bright green grass.  The yard looked so out of place, the green almost radiated in the unnatural color. 

I found myself in the library, and after reading my emails I checked on my blog.  Quite a few people had read the article on my walking.  I had a couple of comments.  One lady wrote about being depressed, and thought my idea of walking to improve mood was good.  She hoped she would get out more.  I wrote back encouraging her to walk right away.  Another person wrote to me that my idea of travel seemed like a good one but wasn’t I afraid to be out alone as a woman?  The world was a dangerous place, and anything could happen.  This person ended by saying he would never want his daughter or wife to travel alone.  I didn’t know how to reply to that person.  After some thought I just said that I had only met good people and that I was very careful.  He had planted a few doubts in my mind, though.  He was right, the world could be dangerous, and a woman alone was more vulnerable.  

I wrote about my two nights in commercial campgrounds and how friendly everyone had been.  I wrote about the joy of the rainstorm at the end of a long and hot hike.  I tried to share how all the sensations were good, the sweat and ache of muscles, the cool and wet of the rain, the breezes, all of it.  I hoped any readers I had would see why the travel was worthwhile, even if slightly dangerous.  I hoped that the lady that said she was depressed, and others like her, would take the actions necessary to fight the depression.  I wrote another article comparing depression to diabetes.  If a doctor told his patient he had diabetes, the patient would take whatever medicine was needed to improve his health.  The patient would probably exercise, eat better, and learn more about this disease. Why is depression different?  I really hoped others would read this and start walking, visit doctors, do whatever was needed.

I passed a nice afternoon in the library before returning to my car.  I was trying to decide how far I wanted to drive today.  I had marked an interesting campground in my guide book that was only 10 miles away.  I could stop early, buy some groceries, and maybe find a good hike for the morning.  I turned the key in my car, but it only made a clicking sound.  I tried again, and again.  I know almost nothing about cars.  I check my oil, and fluids, and I keep it full of gas, usually.  I lifted the hood of the car and looked uselessly at the engine.  It was still there, and that was the extent of my knowledge.  I looked around hopelessly at the town.  I know no one here. I had no idea where to start.  Finally I walked back to the library.

The librarian helped me find a garage with a good mechanic.  He met me back at my car, and took a look at the engine.

“It’s still there.”  I joked.  He said nothing.  I guess that wasn’t very funny anyway.  After a few minutes he said he thought it might be a problem with the starter.  It would probably take a few days.  His shop was just around the corner, he put the car in neutral and we pushed it down the street and into his garage.  He was quiet but seemed honest.  I thanked him, took out of the car my pack and a few items, and walked down to a local hotel.  

Day 25

I did it!  I had been daydreaming about walking across the country, and today I did it!  Of course I didn’t walk across the entire country, I just walked the ten miles to the next campground.  This morning I talked to the mechanic, and told him I would be back in 3-4 days.  I pulled out of my car all I thought I could carry in my pack.  I chose the light tent, and the light stove.  I took the map and some food, and the stove, and raingear. 

             When I left the garage I walked to the grocery store.  Trying to remember what the hiking club had told me, I chose lightweight items.  I pulled things out of their boxes, and did everything I could think of to reduce both space and weight.  Then I started walking.  It was that simple.  I walked along a less busy road that followed the general path of the interstate, and I walked all day.  The first thought I had when the car died was a feeling of helplessness.  I felt abandoned in the middle of a strange town.  Why was I helpless?  With every step I took I a feeling of power grew in me.  I followed a roadway, listened to birds and watched butterflies.  The world moved past, and suddenly I had to sing, to yell.  

“Whoo, hoo!  Here I am, I am walking and no one can stop me!”  I skipped, jogged, and then slowed down to walk again.  My voice had not penetrated past the grasses to either side of the road. The birds did not care.  I was fine with that.

When I got tired I stopped.  When I saw shade I rested under the tree for a few minutes.  When I saw a store or a gas station I used the rest room.  I imagine I will have to solve that problem differently at some point, but why pass a free and clean indoor toilet when it is right there waiting for me?  

            At lunch time I walked up a hill, away from the road.  I used my raincoat as a blanket to sit on, looking around first for ant hills or other surprises.  I sat on the top of my hill, looking out at the road I was following, and ate my lunch.  I could see farther off the busy interstate, and lines of cars moving along.  I could see fast food restaurants, and I was glad to be eating outside, enjoying my clean meal.  

            After my break I walked back down to the road and continued the journey.  Every once in a while a car passed by, and a few of them stopped to see if I needed help.  I thanked them, but assured them I was fine.  It was a different feeling than that first walk where I felt so strange that I couldn’t tolerate the looks of others.  Later in the day I came to a town, and walked right through.  I am sure I looked a little odd, carrying a pack, all hot and sweaty, but no one bothered me.  I pulled out my map, the campground road was just ahead.  I turned down the road, walked up to the entrance of the campground, and signed in.  This campground is small, and quiet.  I am sitting at the picnic table, waiting on my water for supper to boil.  My tent is set up and I have all I need.  A part of me feels abandoned, my car is 10 miles away, and I am here.  Another part of me feels empowered, my car is 10 miles away, and I just walked off to my next location.  Ha!

Chapter 3 of Lady Goes Walkabout   

 To start at chapter 1 click here.

Day 15

I just got back from the grocery store.  My dining room table is covered with easy meals, snacks, noodles, canned meats, and more.  The couch is covered with clothing, items for warmth, shorts and hats for heat.  I have shoe piles at both ends of the couch.  Books and maps cover the chair beside the couch, and all my camping gear sits in the middle of the floor.  I don’t think my car is big enough.  I have a friend coming tomorrow to take care of the house.  He hated his apartment and needed a place to stay, so he is taking over my portion of the rent for the summer.  I emailed the roommates and they said, “What!  Are you crazy!  You’ll be murdered in the woods and we won’t even know which state you will be in.”  Actually that was just Katie.  The other two said basically the same thing. “Have fun.  Just make sure the rent gets paid.”

I looked over the map and decided to head west.  After all I am in Georgia and there isn’t much distance if I head east, but going west seems romantic and perfect anyway.  I need to stop writing and pack the car.  Not all of this stuff can go with me and I need to organize to make it easier to unpack in the campgrounds.  I leave tomorrow.  Why tomorrow?  Because, if I don’t leave soon, I might chicken out. If I don’t leave soon the smoke will find me.  Tomorrow I will write from Tennessee.

Day 16

Greetings, from the mountains of Tennessee.  I just woke up and made my coffee, and thought I would write from the picnic table of my campground.  I am losing my fear of starting the fuel stove, and so I was able to have hot water.  Yesterday was a long drive.  I forgot Tennessee was such a long state. I only covered half of it too.   The entire drive was sunny and nice.  I stopped at a gas station for ice cream about 2:30, and when I started the car I heard on the radio that a massive thunderstorm was crossing the Midwest.  It should hit Memphis around 3, pick up steam and hit my mountain town about 6, same as me.  I drove on, a perfectly sunny day.   Once I reached Kingsport, and traffic began to pick up, the expected storm also arrived and the sky turned dark.  Rain fell as I tried to read road signs and find my way around a new town.  It wasn’t easy, but finally I pulled into the campground.  I was the only person in the entire place.  No ranger greeted me.  No other cars or tents were set up in the campground.  I had the choice of any campsite, but it was raining so hard I didn’t want to get out of the car.  Rivers of water rushed past me.   I looked out the window and saw a long black thing wash by me in the water.  It was a snake; the snake was being pushed down the road by rainwater.  

I parked the car close to the bathhouse and ate a sandwich from the drivers seat.  After a while when the rain slowed I slipped out of the car and sat under a picnic shelter, listening to the rain.  Weather doesn’t mean that much to a person living in a house, with a warm and ready shelter waiting every day.  When the only thing you have to live in is a bag of nylon with a few poles, the rain affects everything.  Imagine not having any place to live.  The damp air under the picnic shelter was chilly, and would probably be cold tonight.  Why did I decide to do this, to drive willy nilly across the country to try to sleep in a rain so heavy the snakes were washed away?  What was wrong with me? 

 The rain slowed.  Maybe I could set up the tent under the picnic shelter and then walk it slowly over to a campsite.  I tried to imagine such a thing, but couldn’t see how that would work. Finally the rain stopped.  I waited a few more minutes.  The clouds began to part and blue sky peeked out at me.  I chose a site, rolled out the tarp, with a little struggle set out the tent.  By the time the tent was up, covered with the rain fly and filled with my sleeping bag I was sticky and sweaty.  Where did that cool air go?  I walked around the entire campground, and found a short trail out to an amphitheater.  No one was there, and so I returned to the campsite.  It was getting dark.  I went to the bathhouse, brushed my teeth, cleaned up and returned to the tent.  

While I was gone a truck had pulled into one of the camping sites.  They had no tent, just a truck.  I climbed into my tent, and read a while with my flashlight.  Finally, tired, I turned off the light and looked out at the truck.  They still had no tent set up.  All I could see was a man sitting in the driver seat, maybe reading, maybe just looking down at his hands.  That seemed weird to me.  Why was he here, alone in the campground, with no tent, not camping.  He was just sitting in his truck.

I felt very alone.  My cell phone had no signal.  I couldn’t close my eyes wondering what he was up to, why he was there.  At the same time I was tired, and sleep was going to take me.  Finally I found my car keys.  If he tried anything I would set off the car alarm.  With that tiny level of security I slept hard.

Today when I woke up the first thing I noticed was the truck.  It was still there, and the dreaded driver was getting out of his seat.  He was an older man, stiff from the bad sleeping position, and looking very worn and wrinkled.  In the seat beside him was an older lady.  They slowly walked to the bathhouse.  I felt quite silly.  

I cleaned up my breakfast and pulled out a local map.  I decided to see what the area had to offer.  There had to be some good day hikes nearby. As I pulled out of the campground I wondered if the snake ever found his way back to where he started.

Day 17

I had a wonderful day of exploration.  The campground is a small one, and has no hiking trails.  I drove around for an hour or so, and stopped in a small town.  I found a park beside an old stone bridge over a river, a perfect place to relax.  I ate my lunch and watched as families, older people and a few business people on their break also enjoyed the sunny day.  After lunch I walked along the river.  The water ran quickly over rocks, and around fallen trees.  Before the day was over I had walked the entire town, following first the river, then the sidewalks of the down town area.  I looked in a few antique shops, and picked up some snacks from one store.  By suppertime I slowly made my way back to the car.  A different group of townsfolk were out enjoying the river park, more teen-agers and couples.  I drove back to my campsite, my home away from home.  While cooking on my stove I noticed quite a few more people were staying in the campground this night.  The weather was better, no rain, and it was a weekend, but I was surprised at the huge difference from last night.  My mystery couple was gone, but the campground was full of pick up trucks, tents, old campers and lots of kids on bikes.  They all seemed to know each other.  I enjoyed watching the children ride around the camp road, it reminded me of when I was little.  I had loved my bike and the freedom it gave.  

After supper I built another fire, and sat back in a chair.  Tree frogs, lightning bugs, all the wonderful outdoor sights and sounds of the south filled my senses, and the fire only made it better.

  It is too dark to write, so I will end on that note.  I have not been depressed in days.

Day 18

How quickly the peace can be destroyed.  As soon as the sun was completely down the party began.  Those people camping all around me turned on the radios in their trucks, and loud country music drowned out the insects and frogs.  They turned on the car lights, all the better to bring the daytime to this mountain night.  Beer cans, screaming and laughing kids, loud music, I don’t think any college dorm had ever been so loud.  I was camped in the middle of some redneck family reunion.  I let my fire die down and climbed into the tent, burying my head under my pillow.  Nylon walls are not great noise deflectors.  As the night wore on trucks and cars drove by, their lights flashing through the tent.  If they had sat still I could have read a book with the brightness of the lights.  Eventually I fell asleep, and at some point the party people ran out of energy and also fell asleep.  I woke up late, almost 10 am, and now am writing in this journal at my picnic table.  All the revelers of last night are sleeping, only a few kids are out playing quietly.  My coffee never tasted so good.  

I had planned on finding a nice mountain retreat, camping in the woods and hiking every day.  I wanted to find that joy, that peace that would tease me when I was out walking.  I remembered the hidden wood near the house, with the fire ants and rain.  It had been so quiet, so alone.  Even though that had been my first time to camp away from my house, I had not been afraid.  I made mistakes, but had never felt fear.  The first night in this campground I had felt fear of the strange travellers, and the second night I had been afraid and irritated at the wild party people.  In some ways camping was no different than living in a small town, or apartment community.  All types of people with all types of lifestyles were crowded together.  This was not really the wilderness, or the escape I had imagined.

After breakfast I filled my daypack with food, water and rain gear.  I had learned my lesson from before.  I walked from the campground, and followed the first road I came to.  A few cars passed, I just smiled, waved and kept walking.  I made sure the cars could easily see me, I didn’t want to be a danger, or in danger.  I just wanted to walk.  Soon I came to an intersection and followed a smaller, clearly less used road.  This road turned and started uphill.  The walking became hard, but even so it was very nice.  I could see over ridges, and as the road climbed I soon could see a river below.  The walk wasn’t easy, but there were very few cars, and it was pleasant.  I stopped often for water, and to snack.  I passed some homes, and enjoyed the flowers and gardens.  As I walked past one house I noticed an older lady sitting on her porch.  

“Good Morning,” she called out.  

“Good morning, “ I replied.  

“What a perfect day for a walk.  It is good to see a young person out enjoying the day.”

“Thank you,”  I stopped for a minute to stretch and drink some water.  Her dog stood up and began to growl at me, but she shushed him and he sat by her side, wagging his tail.

“You have a pretty view here,” I said, hoping she didn’t mind that I hadn’t moved on.

We ended up talking for an hour.  She invited me to join her on the porch and she poured a soft drink in a glass for me.  She did have a beautiful view.  Her house was old, and built close to the road, but over the ridge I could see more ridges, valleys and mountains.  She told me that she walked every day.  She walked in rain, cold and snow and hot and humid days.  She didn’t walk as far as she used to, but she still got out.  She remembered when the countryside didn’t have fences, and she could just walk over the mountains.  She would walk out over fields and mountains to visit cousins and friends, and after a nice day she would walk home and fix dinner.  After a time she used to just climb over those fences, but now that was too hard and she did like me, walking on the roads.

Eventually I continued on.  I passed over the top of the mountain or huge hill, and started down into a town.  At first I passed more and more houses, then I came to whole neighborhoods.  I stopped and sat on a rock wall bordering a cemetery, and rested.  

“Are you a backpacker?”  A teen girl asked me.  She leaned against the wall.

“No, I am just out walking.”

“Oh, that is too bad.  Sometimes my family and I see backpackers here in town.  They come in for rest days, and tell about their trips.  They usually smell, and you don’t.”  She laughed.

“Glad to hear that.”  I laughed also.  “What is a rest day?”

“You know, like when the hiker has been out on the trail so many days, and they want to sleep in a bed.  They come in and stay at my aunts hostel, they buy tons of food, and hang out a day or two before going back to the trail.”  

“That sounds like something I need to check on.”  

“Go eat at the diner in town.  There are often hikers in there.”

“Thanks!”  I hopped up and started towards town.  It wasn’t hard to find a diner, probably the only one.  The restaurant had a screen door, and seemed very relaxed.  Unfortunately the only customers looked local.  I sat down and ordered French fries and a milk shake.  The waitress laughed and said,

”Got to get those calories back I guess.”

I enjoyed my snack, and when I left I saw another store.  In the window display was camping gear.  I had to check that out.  Before I left I had a new tiny light weight stove in my daypack, and a used, and very light tent.  Someone had decided backpacking was not for them, sold everything and returned home.  Now someone, me, had decided to start this new adventure.  I turned to walk back to the campground.  Certainly if I hiked out miles to find a camping place, loud truck driving music blaring types would be unable to follow me.  

Day 19

My reveling party friends were still camping, and the place was beginning to look like a trashed park.  I had no interest in staying here another night, so I packed all my things up into the car.  I drove into the same town that I had walked to, and parked near the diner.  I walked down the street and found the Hostel my teen friend had told me about.  While checking in I mentioned to the owner that I wanted to learn about backpacking.  She told me about a hiking club that met every Sunday afternoon at the local library.  I took my things up to my very basic room, and dropped my day pack on the bed.  I found my notebook and a pen, and took those items with me to the library.  

I had arrived almost 2 hours before the hiking club would meet, but I could always entertain myself in a room full of books and ideas.  Of course I found myself on the computer checking my email messages first.  All three roommates wanted to hear from me, had I left yet, was I dead, or tired of this nomad life?  I had been gone 3 days, people.  Then I started searching the internet for blogs on walking, nomadic lifestyles, the simple life, and so on.  I found people walking across the country, walking across their state, driving across the country, living on self sufficient farms, exploring self sufficient farms.  If I could think of a search phrase I could find a blog about that search phrase.  If I dreamed of a crazy idea, there was someone out there living that crazy idea.  I was walking because I had been depressed, and now, a month or so later I had forgotten that I had even been down.  Why were so many people trying out these different lifestyles?  What was driving them to try such a new and sometimes radical way of living?  They must have been searching for something, or fleeing something.  I remembered watching a movie when I was a child.  It was the story of a normal city family moving to the wilderness to find the things missing from their urban life, and to improve the health of one of the kids.  I remember the father giving a speech in the car.  He had sounded like a whining child to me, as he said things like “There must be more to life than the rat race we are caught in,” and “This modern life is killing our children.”  

Is it whining to complain about the things in our modern life that we don’t like?  Maybe we should be grateful for those good things, modern health care and clean water come to mind.  At the same time we should have the discipline or common sense to avoid the parts we don’t like.  I decided to start a blog.  This way I could show my roommates and my family that I was still alive, still wandering, and still learning.  I could show the fun and the difficulty of my, what should I call this, adventure?  Or exploration?  Or I could be very 1960’s and say I was finding myself. 

I actually already had a blog, one that I rarely wrote in.  I had started it when I started graduate school, and mostly I wrote about students coming to college unprepared to learn.  I changed a few images, and started writing about my first couple of walks.  I finished my entry telling about the two nights in the campground and my search for a more peaceful and natural way to enjoy the outdoors.  As I was saving the article I noticed several people gathering in a side room of the library.  The men all had beards, most of the ladies had longer hair.  Nearly everyone wore outdoorsy styled tee shirts.  I had found the hiking club.

Day 20

I learned a lot from the club.  Many of the members only hike during the day, and they gave me names and directions to several wonderful day hikes.  Some of the members liked to backpack, or carry all they need on their backs to sleep and eat on the trail.  They gave me advice on what to carry and how to keep the pack light.  All of the people I talked with shared a love of the outdoors, a love of nature and a desire to keep the trails and wild areas clean.  I learned that I should pack my used toilet paper out, and self-sealing baggies were good for that.  I learned that I should scatter the ashes of fire places, not burn trash unless it will all burn away, and to never keep food in my tent or around my sleeping bag.  I learned a lot, but also I found out that they were not planning a hike until the next weekend.  I thanked them for the information.  I told them about the trashed campground I had left and learned that not all people who camp were the same about respecting the outdoors and other campers.  One sweet lady told me how to pick the best campsites for car camping.  If the campground offers electricity, and is close to the interstate, it is more likely to be crowded and noisy.  State parks were the best, if I didn’t mind using lanterns or flashlights, and sometimes pit toilets.   I thanked her and decided to continue my car camping trip for now, and to practice with the light stove and tent as I found good places.  Today I packed the car back up and hit the road.  It felt good to be moving again, and seeing all new places.  When I passed Memphis and started on the large bridge over the Mississippi I felt almost dizzy.  There was something symbolic and scary about crossing this wide river, it represented the crossing over into new territory.  All day I drove past rice fields and other flat lands.  Now I am camping in the very kind of campground I was told to avoid.  This was a commercial campground, close to the interstate and most of the sites were full of huge RV’s.  I set up my tent, fixed supper and watched my neighbors.  

This place was clean.  There were several families with small children, and lots of older couples.  I watched people walk along the small road and nearly everyone waved at me as they passed my site.  An older couple stopped to chat, telling me that they used to camp in tents, but now they needed the softer bed for sleep.  They told me of all the places they had visited, and made me very glad I was on the road.   I loved hearing about their experiences.  They wished me the best on my adventures, and walked on.  As the sun set and the sky turned a beautiful orange, all those people went inside their campers, turned on the lights, and turned on televisions.  I felt bad for them, as I enjoyed a brilliant sunset from my camp chair.  The air turned cooler, and the darkness settled around me.  All these people had left their homes, driven to a new and pretty place, and set up campers to recreate home.  I was confused.