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.